The Ferryman - Book 1

Chapter 20:

Homesick Map

Moth slept deep into the next day. She woke up feeling heavy and nauseous – she couldn’t recall why until the violence of last night crashed back onto her.

She curled up under the blankets and tried to pretend it had all been a stress hallucination, but when she closed her eyes the face of Aunt Rena stared back at her with eyes full of river water.

Moth couldn’t keep her eyes closed. She sat up, blood pounding through her body. She wished she hadn’t woken up.

The pain in her hand had subsided into a numb prickling, as though it had fallen asleep. Though it was better than last night, Moth sat in her bed, staring at the wall, feeling the sopping cold presence of Aunt Rena always in the corner of her mind.

An hour passed into another, and Moth didn’t dare to move.

A gentle rap on the door startled her out of her revery.

“Mothball?” whispered Tully through the door. “Are you awake?”

Moth tried to answer but her voice snagged in her throat. She tried again, squeaking out, “Come in.”

Tully opened the door and came in with a grin, but it fell off when she saw Moth clutching her knees in the corner of a dark room. “I thought you’d feel better after a night’s sleep.”

Moth gave a quick nod, but tears pooled in her eyes, and she looked away.

Tully climbed into bed next to Moth and hugged her. “You have to take some days off. You can’t work yourself into a madness.”

Moth felt nothing she said could convince Tully that Aunt Rena was trapped underwater – and Moth had no desire to burden Tully with that agony. She only nodded again.

Not being alone helped her feel safe. She shakily got up and got dressed, and Tully joined her going down to the kitchen to get lunch.

Salvia was in the kitchen, setting up a tub with boiled water for a Sunday bath.

Moth stiffened when she saw it and clung to the door frame. A hot sweat gathered at her neck. Her body flushed with panic.

“Moth?” asked Tully, trying to tug her into the kitchen.

Turning on her heel, Moth ran halfway up the flight of steps and doubled over, heaving for breath. She could feel hands clutching her wrists.

*

Moth took a week off work. She barely left her room the first two days, and a confused and worried Salvia brought her food – after she brought some to Aunt Violet.

    Little by little, with Tully’s encouragement, Moth worked her way from her room and could endure being around glasses of water and washbasins without thinking Aunt Rena would drag her under.

But the fear of her returning clung to Moth.

She could not understand why Aunt Rena had manifested so powerfully to her, but not to Aunt Violet who was purposefully trying to see her. Aunt Rena had said she smelled like a ferryman – but Moth did not know why.

The days led into another Sunday, and by that time Moth had gotten over her fear of her washbasin and could wash up in the mornings again. She set her face and laid out her work clothes for Monday.

She did not sleep well, but she was awake when the sun rose and she got dressed and waited outside her door for Tully, who smiled proudly at her. “Ready to go to work?”

“Yes.”

They got their lunchboxes and set off down the road.

The familiar steps of the cobblestone, the familiar twist of the street and the early morning sounds, told Moth where they were headed – her heart began to pound, and her knees shook. She couldn’t bear to seem so afraid, so she ignored it even as it bubbled hotly into her throat and seized her jaw.

Tully didn’t notice as she chatted about the latest gossip.

In a second, they were around a corner and staring at the wash house.

Moth seized up entirely and could not move. She watched Tully walk a few paces ahead before glancing back at her, confused.

She heard the drip drip drip of water off Aunt Rena’s hair, falling on her knees, the smell of river scum.

She ran. After some time, she realized she was hiding behind a pile of rotten lumber thrown behind a factory.

Tully came running down the street and spotted her, tripping over her feet as she skidded to a stop.

Gasping for breath, she hurried over to Moth and grabbed her. “Okay, I get it now; somethings wrong and its not that easy to fix. Just let me take you home.”

When Moth heard ‘home’, all she could think of was Hiren. She burst into tears and, taking Tully’s hand, let her lead her back to the Sacherd’s house.

“I’m sorry, Tully,” sobbed Moth, hiding her face with one hand. “I want to go home.”

“It’s alright.”

“I want to go back to Hiren.”

“I know what you meant.”

*

Struggling with the fear and dread, Moth could not get better. She was afraid, and she did not want to stay – she could not afford to stay. The thought of the wash house and its river water sent her into such panic. She could barely stop from crying at the thought of putting her hands in the laundry.

    She wrote to her mother. She did not know what to say, how to explain herself, so she simply said it was time for her to return home. She would return to Hiren next month by train.

    The days went by slowly. Moth thought of talking to Aunt Violet of what she saw but could only imagine the disaster it might cause – she felt helpless about what to do, and could only cross the days out in her journal and wait.

    Finally, it was the day before she’d leave. She spent the day carefully cleaning her room putting her clothes into her luggage.

“Well!” said Tully, standing in the doorframe and watching her pack, “It’ll be my turn to visit you for a year. How’s next week sound?”

Moth paused over her luggage. She was in a haze, and felt ebbs and flows of emotions she couldn’t quite explain. She looked up at Tully and said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help much with anything.”

Raising her eyebrows, Tully asked, “Help with what? You did laundry like a professional, Mothball.”

“With…” Moth struggled for words. What do I mean? Aunt Violet? “With the house.”

“With the…? You didn’t come here to do chores; you came here to earn a wage. And a damn good job you did.”

Smoothing a wrinkle out of a blouse, Moth said, “Well, I am sorry that I’m leaving so suddenly. I really enjoyed being able to talk to you face to face, Tully, not through letters.”

“I knew you’d leave eventually, so don’t worry.”

Moth sat on her bed. Her hand tightened around the blanket. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to leave. I’d hoped, if it worked out, I could just keep working here for my family.”

“That’d never have worked.” Tully said, and then laughed at the idea. “Don’t get me wrong, I would have loved it, but you were always going to leave.”

Her lighthearted tone irritated Moth, and she said sharply, “How do you know?”

Tully sat next to her on the bed and pointed to all the sketches Moth had made and put on her walls. Sketches she had done, from memory, of the creeks she knew by name that sunk through the earth behind her grandfather’s house.

Sketches of plants and their names, sketches of the animals found in the tall grass, of the bugs found in the short grass.

A map of her home as viewed through the eyes of frogs and newts, of rabbits and weasels creeping through underbrush, what they would see in a day under Tiding Range.

“Mothy, you love Hiren. I’m going to miss you, but not as much as you missed your home – you’ve been missing it since you arrived.”

Moth rubbed her eyes and put her head on Tully’s shoulder. “You’ll write to me?”

“No not at all. I will type to you, though, so you can read it.”

Choking out a laugh, Moth shoved Tully. “Would you be serious, please, for once – I won’t see you again for so long.”

“I don’t do that well, Mothball, you know that. But I’ll try just for a minute.” Tully cleared her throat and said, looking her in the eyes, “I know this isn’t what you wanted, but you are going to be alright. I love you, and your family loves you. You have a dad who…” Tully cleared her throat and looked away. “You have a dad, and that’s such a nice thing to have, you know? When things are hard, it’s good to have one…of those around.”

Moth pulled her head down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you in a few years, then, Tulip.”