First to Dance (12 page)

Soon Ayita zoned out of the
ir conversation. She was in her own world, thinking about the day she landed here. Who changed her route from Earth to Adonia? Was that person still here? Did he or she intend for Ayita to crash into the lake and die? There had to be a space center here somewhere—was it near the winter dwellings? Ayita hoped so because then she thought she could find it, but what if there wasn’t one at all? And was there still a computer somewhere tracking her every move? Ayita’s mind raced with all these thoughts until the sound of a child crying broke her concentration.

Three women jumped from their seats to tend to the fallen child, and the little boy ended up in the lap of the first woman to reach him,
which happened to be Kesi. Ayita watched Kesi as she held and comforted the boy with a mother’s love. He had a scraped knee, but his tears were quickly dried up and he went back to playing with the other children. Kesi had a warm smile on her face and she continued to watch him play long after the incident. Her expression was soft and genuine.

“Is that her little boy?” Ayita asked
Panya.

Panya
looked confused. “What do you mean by
hers
?”

Ayita briefly wondered how to rephrase her question. “I mean, is she his mother? Did she give birth to him?”

Panya shrugged her shoulders.

“You don’t know?”

“He might be. I think she birthed a child at
some
point. If he is hers, she wouldn’t know either.”

Ayita’s jaw dropped. “Are you saying she wouldn’t remember her own child?”

Panya nodded her head and didn’t seem at all alarmed about the topic. “The children are everyone’s. If a child is hungry, someone helps feed him. If he is sad, someone helps comfort him. Every woman is a mother to the child, and every man a father.”

Ayita tried to wrap her brain around this. “You don’t
know who your real parents are,” she said.

Panya
looked offended, and the other women started paying attention to their conversation. “What do you mean my ‘real’ parents? Every adult that helped raise me was a parent to me.”

“I’m not saying they weren’t, I just mean…the woman who carried you in her womb for nine months. You don’t know who she was, or the man who fathered you.” Ayita felt tears coming to her eyes, and for the first time since leaving, she missed her mother.

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Panya snapped. “If you think you’re better than us because you can remember things, well, you’re not. First you’re offended that we forget, and now you’re offended at the shapes of our families. Why don’t you just go home?”

Ayita
was taken aback by Panya’s anger. She felt her heart racing and she didn’t know what to say. Everyone was staring at her, now. Same problem, different planet. “Panya, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to offend you with my questions. I’ll leave you alone.” She got up and walked away. She started crying when she thought no one was looking, but Ziyad saw her and he quickly came to join her walk.

“Having a good day?” he asked.

Ayita’s tears stopped for a moment and she chuckled. “Don’t tell me you forgot that tears indicate sadness,” she joked. She liked that she could tease him, and he didn’t get offended by it. They walked for a while, and she said, “Panya is upset with me. I feel like I am back on Zozeis where rejection was around every corner and my heart was never safe.”

“Well, you’re not on
Zozeis anymore,” Ziyad said.  “So if you wait about a week, Panya will forget all about whatever you did to offend her.” Then he added, “But if you want the kind of friendship that keeps a heart safe, you’ll need to face the problem with her and repair whatever damage was done.” His wisdom made Ayita feel childish, for she’d had no intention of approaching the subject again with Panya. The idea of letting her forget the incident was tempting.

“Thank you
Ziyad,” she said. “I needed to hear that.” She crossed her arms and took a deep breath. She hoped he would ask her what their disagreement was about. Then she could tell him, and hear his thoughts on the matter. She wanted another opinion. But he didn’t ask. He knew better than to put himself between the girl he loved as a sister and the girl he thought he might fall in love with.

“Anytime,” he said.

When Ayita saw
Panya about an hour later, she didn’t hesitate to bring up their conversation. It turned out that Panya was looking for her to discuss it as well.

“I didn’t mean to offend you
Panya. I’m really curious about the way you all live here. This is my home now, too, and I want to understand.”

“I’m not upset with you,”
Panya said. “Actually, I was looking for you because I wanted to explain. I’m the one who needs to apologize. I’m sorry for overreacting.” She held up a book. It was the first book Ayita had seen since leaving Zozeis. It seemed extremely out of place in Panya’s hand. “This is my diary,” she said. “I was reading it so I could remember the details when we talked.”

They sat down together and Ayita listened as
Panya retold her story.

“I was in love with a man,” she said. “And I
was pregnant because of that love. We had a child, a daughter. When I became a mother, I realized I’d never really known love before, even with her father. The love I had for her was greater than anything I’ve ever experienced in life.”

She paused
to look Ayita in the eyes. “Her father and I promised each other that we wouldn’t be like the other parents. We wouldn’t forget our child.” Panya took a deep breath and closed her eyes before she continued. “When winter came one year, when our daughter was almost three years old and wanting to explore everything…”  She started to tear up, and Ayita placed an arm around her to comfort her. “She was exploring like all the other kids, and the other adults were taking care of her like they take care of all the children. Like they took care of me. I made sure to spend time with her every day, but as much as I did my best to remember her, she slowly started to forget, like they all do. The children always forget their parents in the wintertime, when the people are separated. Her desire to explore and play was so great that it overpowered my desire to make sure we didn’t forget each other. Then, spring came.  It was time for everyone to return to their summer dwellings. I thought she was with her father, and he thought she was with me. She was with neither of us. She went home with another group, but we did not know which one. To her it was nothing; to us it was everything.”

She sighed. “
Her father was very upset with me, and with himself. He wanted nothing to do with me after that. He said he didn’t ever want to have children again lest he forget them too. So he left. Then I was alone, with no one to love. The next year at wintertime, I saw our daughter and I recognized her, but she no longer recognized me at all. I was a stranger to her, and she would not come home with me when the winter was over. She was a community child, like all the others.” Panya sighed again, and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. “That is why I got upset earlier. To be honest, I didn’t really know why I was upset at first, but I knew I would find the answer in my diary. That is how much I have forgotten, and it’s only been a couple of years.”

“Panya, I’m so sorry,” Ayita said. She put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, then gently pulled her in for a hug. She tried to imagine being in Panya’s position, but it was difficult.  She struggled to relate to her forgetting a face; how much more difficult would it be to forget a family? She stayed with Panya until night came and they each went their own way.  

It wasn’t long before Ayita fell into a daily routine on Adonia. She would visit Dakarai shortly after waking, then leave in the afternoon and spend time strengthening her friendships with Panya and Ziyad. Then at night, she would lay awake and think for long hours, unless she heard Dakarai’s song, which drew her back into the forest every time she heard it.

One night,
Ayita was sitting beneath her table-top tree, staring at the dark, star-scattered sky.  It was silent.  There was no music playing tonight.  Ayita lay down to sleep, but sleep would not come.  Then, faintly, she heard it.  Dakarai’s song.  Ayita stood and walked toward the forest, and toward him.  The music ended as she neared the clearing, and she saw him sitting in the grass, facing the water.  The sound of the waterfall seemed louder now than before.  Ayita stood still and watched him for a moment as he sat and stared, then she too turned her head to watch the rushing water beneath the moonlight. 
He knows I’m here,
she thought. 
But does he still know who I am?
  She closed her eyes to think, and when she opened them, he was gone.

His voice came
from behind her, and it startled her.  “Why are you hiding?”

“Hiding?” she asked.  “I’m not hiding.”

“Why were you standing here instead of coming forward?”

“I was thinking,” she said.

“About what?”  He was standing really close to her, and she felt a little intimidated.

“Wondering if you would remember me,” she answered.

Dakarai tilted his head to one side as he studied her face.  She thought she saw a spark of recognition in his eyes, now, but he didn’t say anything, and he turned, walking away to the middle of the clearing, where he sat down again in the grass.  Ayita waited for a moment before following him and sitting down as well.

“My name’s Ayita,” she said, and she held her hand out, but he didn‘t take it.

“Okay,” he said.  They didn’t say anything then for a while.  The sound of the waterfall was like a lullaby to her ears, and Ayita’s eyes began to close until at last he started speaking again.  “Why do you come here?” he said.

“
To see you.”

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that,” he admitted.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want a shallow friendship.”

Ayita felt a little shocked, and hurt. “Do you think our friendship is shallow?” she asked.

“It is if I never remember you.”

She thought for a moment. “What
do
you remember?” she asked. “Not about me, but about anything. What do you remember about
you
?”

He took a deep breath and looked up at the stars. “I remember feelings
sometimes,” he said. “But not where they came from.” He looked at her. “When I see you, I feel peaceful, but I don’t know why that is.”

“Peaceful?”

“Like everything is going to be okay.” He almost smiled before his face went hard. “But I know it’s not true. Life isn’t going to be okay. I’ll always forget the ones that I love. Life will always be shallow. I can’t live in an ignorant bliss like the rest of you. I don’t accept it. I don’t want another person to come into my life only to forget me, and me to forget them. I don’t really want you here.”

Ayita was
deeply hurt by his words, but she felt closer to him now despite his trying to push her away. “I’ll never forget you,” she said.

He didn’t
know how that could be possible, but she sounded so sincere when she said it. “I can’t truthfully say the same,” he replied.

“Do you want to remember me?
”

He stared at her for a long time and Ayita felt uncomfortable waiting for his response.
She decided to hopefully assume that his answer was a ‘yes’ he didn’t want to admit to.

“I came here in a s
paceship, and you saved my life, Dakarai. I’ve come to see you almost every day since I arrived, and I’ve not forgotten a word you told me. I feel bonded to you. You’re my friend, and I’m never going to forget you.”

Dakarai
continued to study her face. Then after a long pause he said, “Maybe that is why I feel peaceful. You remember what I forget. As long as one of us remembers, maybe it really can be okay.” He looked hopeful but unconvinced. He sighed and looked up to stare at the stars. “You came from up there?” he asked.

“Yes.
” She lowered herself to lie down in the grass and put one arm behind her head.  The sky was black speckled with white.  She smiled, realizing the stars looked the same as they had at home.  Same arrangement, same designs. Somewhere out there, her father was under the same speckled sky and probably wondering about her journey. She wished he could know she was okay. She wondered if, maybe someday, he might return to the space station in curiosity, and perhaps go inside. He could go to the computer and learn all that she had done. He could know that she was learning to swim and learning to love. Then she remembered his parting words to her.

“I believe that you will return, and when you do, I know you will turn this planet on its head and paint all the walls of this city. If anyone can do it, you can.”

She sighed. How could she ever accomplish that goal, and did she still want to? Ayita was learning to love it here despite the awkwardness of being forgotten day after day. She thought that she might finally be growing content with her life. Still, Earth was calling to her, and she didn’t know how to get there.
Maybe I have to let go of that dream,
she thought.