First to Dance (13 page)

She looked up at
Dakarai and studied his face as he studied the stars. He certainly was not content. She wished there was something to tell him that would grant him solace, but she knew that even if she did, the thought would only be with him for less than a day.  If she wanted to help him, she needed a plan that was bigger than words.
I might not be painting the walls of any city,
she thought,
but I can paint my name on your heart. We don’t need to have a shallow friendship, Dakarai.

He broke the silence by asking
her about where she came from. He asked her this question several times a week, and she gladly told him all that he desired to know. She shared her heart with him and told him about everything that mattered to her.  As she shared all that was on her heart, she felt freedom unlike ever before. The people on Zozeis did not have the freedom to speak like this. She hoped that someday they would.

Dakarai
listened, interested but solemn. He was taking in her words, wanting to learn everything about her, but fully aware that anything he learned today he would have to learn again tomorrow. When she finally left to get some sleep, he watched her walk away until she was no longer in sight. He wished he could stay awake forever and never have to close his eyes. Then he could simply think about her all the time and not forget. He didn’t want to forget.

9

Ayita returned to the forest early the next morning.  It was the first thing she did upon waking. 
Dakarai smiled when he saw her, then frowned and told her, “I’m sorry.”

“Ayita,” she said.

He smiled again.  “Ayita.”  He had a look of peace on his face, just like he said, but Ayita knew that deep down his anxiety remained. It was strange being around him after the previous night, and this morning she still felt his sorrow, but for him it was gone.  All he remembered was the feeling of peace he had when he saw her.

She stayed with him
all morning, but went back in the afternoon as she usually did.  Normally she would return to spend time with Panya or Ziyad, but today she went to learn more about the people here. Somehow, she was going to help them.  If she couldn’t make a difference for the people on Zozeis, she was determined to make a difference here.

When she arrived at the settlement of table-top trees, there was some kind of ceremony going on.
Music was being played by a few individuals with stringed instruments that they strummed their songs on. A boy of five years old was wearing a wooden name tag, hanging from his neck on a thin golden rope, and a large group of adults was surrounding him. Ayita found a place in the circle of people and watched. The adults chanted the name that was hanging from his neck, repeating it again and again. The boy was all smiles. Then they hushed. The boy started walking from person to person, stating his name, and they in turn stated theirs. He arrived at Ayita and flashed her a big accomplished smile.

“
Zoar,” he said.

“Ayita,” she told him.

Then he moved on to the woman standing beside her. When he completed the entire circle, he returned to the center and started dancing. It was adorable and Ayita looked on fondly. The people clapped and cheered his name while they watched the miniature performance. They laughed and smiled and he joyfully soaked up their attention. “Again!” the people shouted. “Again!” So he started again, going from person to person around the entire circle, stating only his name. This time the people clapped in sync with each other—one clap after each time that he spoke his name. His cheeks were turning red and he wore a wide smile.

Ayita spotted
Ziyad in the circle of people, and when the ceremony was over she walked over to him to ask him what it meant.

“The boy chose his name today,” he said.

Ayita looked confused. “He didn’t have a name?”

“He had many names,”
Ziyad explained, “But today he chose one to remember. He will wear his name around his neck for several weeks until he forms a habit of always speaking his name first in a conversation. This way he will remember his name, and remind others. Eventually, those he talks to frequently will remember his name when they see him, whether he says it or not.”

Suddenly her early conversations here made sense, when she would call someone’s name and they would always respond, “No, that’s my name.” Dakarai and Ziyad seemed to be the only ones who didn’t respond that way. Then, with realization, her eyes became bright with excitement. “The habit helps him remember?”

Ziyad
nodded. “We all learned to remember our names that way.”

Ayita eagerly pressed further. “Are there other details that you remember by habit?” Her mind raced with possible solutions.
Maybe habit was the answer. Perhaps they could form a habit of remembering various details about their lives.

“No,”
Ziyad said. “None that I can think of at the moment.”

Despite his answer, Ayita didn’t skip a beat.
“Ziyad,” she asked, “if I start spending more time with the children here, would you help me teach them a habit of remembering?”

He puzzled over the look on her face. She had such excitement in her eyes, like she real
ly believed she could teach them to form a better memory. He’d never seen anyone so sure of their convictions and determined to follow through. Though he didn’t yet share her dream, he felt an obligation to join her.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll help you. Just tell me what to do.”

After she spent the afternoon brainstorming with
Ziyad, Ayita returned to the forest where she found Dakarai snacking on a piece of fruit. He had his own small garden near the creek where the water ran slowly; he had no need to leave the forest for anything. Now that her mind was tuned into it, she saw habits everywhere. Dakarai might forget everything else, but he had a habit of tending his garden before eating, and therefore, he never went hungry.
Someday
, she thought,
he might have a habit of remembering his life.

When he saw her, the first words out of his mouth, as usual, were, “I’m sorry,” and Ayita realized that somewhere along the way he formed a habit of apology rather than a habit of identity.

“Ayita,” she said. She watched him for a while and studied his expression. While Ayita’s mind was on serious thoughts and the deeper workings of life, Dakarai’s mind was on his own carefree existence.

“I was planning to go for a swim.
Do you want to join me?”

“I’m not a very good swimmer,” she
reminded.

Dakarai
smiled widely, ignoring her comment and going straight to the water.  He stood at the edge and gestured for her to come along.

Ayita walked over to the same place she’d entered the water before
.  Dakarai remained standing and watched as she lowered herself in, slowly as before, allowing her body to adjust to the temperature of the water.  She held on to the side and practiced kicking the way he taught her. When she felt confident enough, she let go of the ledge and started treading water completely on her own.

“This is as much as I know,” she said.
“What else is there to swimming?”

“Movement.”
  He smiled a flirtatious smile.  Dakarai removed his shirt and dove into the water.  There was no sign of him for a while, until he popped up inches behind her.  Ayita jumped at the feeling of water rushing up her back and she turned around.

“Don’t do that,” she said, but there was hint of a grin on her face.

“Are you
really
bothered?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

Her smile spread
wider.  “No more.”

“No more smiling?”

“No sneaking up on me!”  She laughed and playfully pushed on his shoulder, which in effect moved her backward more than him.  “At least until I get the hang of this.”

Dakarai
nodded without the slightest attempt to hide that he was amused by her.  He disappeared again under the water and came up about three arms-lengths from her toward the center of the lake.  Ayita remained where she was, every couple seconds placing a hand on the ledge, then letting it slip off.

“You don’t want to stay in that one place all day, do you?” he asked.

“No.”

“So come over here.”

“How?”

“Swim.”

“Yeah, but-”

“
Shh!  Don’t ask.  Do.”

Ayita shook her head.

“Come on.”

“But-”

Now
Dakarai was shaking his head. “No buts,” he said.

Ayita took a deep breath and looked uncertainly at the ledge.

“You don’t need that,” he told her.

Ayita leaned forward and spread her arms out before her, moving them in wide outward semi-circles.  She continued to kick
her legs in small alternating circles, which proved to be awkward while leaning forward the way she was.  She had trouble moving closer to him, and it showed on her face.

Dakarai
chuckled.  “You’re still using the same kick, aren’t you?”

Ayita stopped and reverted to treading water.  “Yes.”

“Try something else.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, sure, I could tell you, but I think it would be more effective if you figure out on your own what works.” He smiled that flirtatious smile again.

“You explained it to me last time!”

“Maybe you needed it last time.  This time, you know enough to keep your head above the water.  Now, focus on yourself, and on the water, and move your arms and legs as feels right until you’re able to swim out to me.”

Ayita tried again, this time just kicking her legs without thinking about it.  She tried to imitate the way
Dakarai had lifted his arms out of the water while swimming the first time she saw him, but her sleeves were heavy and it was difficult to lift her arms above her head. The clothes they made here weren’t like the clothes she had at home. They were thicker, and not quite as soft. The clothes at home were made from cotton, but she didn’t know what these clothes were made of.

“It’s easier with
less clothes on,” Dakarai said.

Ayita scoffed.  “I’m not about to undress in front of you.”

“I didn’t say
no
clothes.  I said less.”

“Still.
  What else would I have to wear?”

“What do you have on under that?”

Ayita raised her eyebrows.  Her thoughts wandered to the books with pictures of people swimming and what they wore, and she realized that the chestnut camisole she had on beneath her blouse was more modest than Earth’s bikini.  Still, it wasn’t near anything she’d ever worn in public. On Zozeis, those things were reserved for married couples, but she wasn’t on Zozeis anymore.

“You’re blushing.”

“Oh, quiet.  And stop looking at me.”  Ayita rolled her eyes out of embarrassment. She reached out to grab the ledge and pulled herself closer, removing her blouse over her head and contemplating whether she should remove the skirt also. It went just above her knees and wasn’t particularly in the way; Ayita was more comfortable with keeping it on. 

“All right,
” he said, “now swim to me.”

Ayita tried this again, leaning forward but not
quite horizontal and kicking her legs in a shallow flutter kick while reaching forward and pulling with her arms.  Her arms naturally reverted to the wide outward semi-circles as before, but her kick stayed the same.

“Lean forward more,”
Dakarai told her.  “The closer you are to being horizontal the more efficient your stroke will be.”

She tried to follow this, but she couldn’t make herself lean forward more than a slight diagonal.

“It’s actually more efficient if your face is in the water.”

“Not going to happen,” she said.

“Just saying.  If you really want to do this right….”

“I just want to be able to do it.”