Veracity (3 page)

Years passed. I continued to try and find out what the 'real' secret was all about, and I made quite a few guesses at it, some of which I thought were fairly educated at the time, though now I know they weren't even close. I was even brave enough to openly confront Dana with a few of them, and he replied appropriately, never giving me anything more than what the whispers on the island had continuously repeated; they all knew what I was looking for, and were careful not to give it to me.

Then I had my Incision, which was just after puberty, and which was the same surgery that everyone had after they'd physically developed enough. And after that, it's all just a blur of learning and more learning. I think the only other really important event that happened before I Came of Age was discovering Kara.

We'd grown up together and I'd known her all of my life, but we were so strictly forbidden to spend time or develop any kind of deeper friendship with the opposite sex, that I never really had the opportunity to find out how her mind worked. Then, one day, I had to do some pair work with her, and we'd been asked to discuss something or other - I can't remember what - and suddenly, listening to the things that she was saying, I couldn't believe that I hadn't found a way to seek out her company before. She was fascinating, engaging, wise, and I couldn't seem to hear enough from her that afternoon - which, of course, was a mistake. I even knew it as it was happening: we were looking at each other too intently, were too engrossed in the conversation, too interested. And from the ever-watchful corners of the room, the Elders saw the threat brewing, and quickly intervened.

We were pulled aside and given a long talk about exclusive relationships on the island, and we were cautioned of the inherent dangers that existed in them. And though they didn't specify what those dangers were, we were repeatedly told that they were critical, and that if we didn't respect the guidelines that had already clearly been set out for us, we could potentially threaten our whole way of life, in fact, they added with grave voices, our very existence.

But it wasn't only a firm warning, after that afternoon we were banned from each other. They made sure that we didn't sit together, work together, do chores together, learn together, or even walk together from building to building. They would watch out of the corners of their eyes as we ate in the Community Hall, waiting to see if we would risk a glance at one another, always suspicious that there might be something between us that they weren't seeing - a secret. And there was.

We'd been raised on secrets, and the Elders had taught us everything that one needed to know about keeping them, about living around them, through them. We found ways to meet, usually feigning a walk with some random person of the same sex, and then, once out in the forest, separating and meeting at a specific spot. It would only be for fifteen minutes, or maybe a half hour at most, but this turned out to be a blessing in a way, because it shaped our conversations and the way we talked. We had to think about things carefully, weighing out what we were going to say well before it came out of our mouths, and as soon as we met each other, we would have to get right to the point, our words intense, hands flinging in the air to help describe our thoughts, beliefs, theories, our bodies always leaning in close; though very careful not to get too close.

We were always cautious not to touch each other, both of us being privately convinced of some unspeakable and extreme consequence looming overhead. But I like to think that it was on both our minds - because I know that it was on mine. All too often my eyes would sink to various parts of her body, and I would find my thoughts suddenly racing into a very different direction from our conversation, and I would almost have to physically stop myself, shake my head, snap out of it. Because, given the circumstances, not only were these ideas wrong, they were also impossible. No, instead, we would have to settle for words; and, happily, her words were unusually fierce.

She experienced the world in a way that I had a hard time even imagining, she seemed to see a vibrant life and colour in things, heard voices, felt tremors. When I was in front of my peers, or even in front of the Elders, I always felt intelligent, but sitting in front of Kara, I felt stupid, slow. There were times when I couldn't keep up with her chains of thought, my eyes growing glazed, wishing I had more time to think her words through before I'd have to respond. And, unfortunately, I would often be given that time. We were caught out in the forest once or twice, and for a few months afterwards, we would be watched far too carefully to risk meeting again. But we, in turn, would patiently watch the Elders out of the furthest corners of our eyes, waiting for them to lower their guard, waiting for another chance; and in the meantime, saving our words, processing the ones we'd exchanged, and memorizing our responses for later. Sometimes, frustrated at having to wait months before seeing her again, I would lie awake at night trying to imagine what the Elders could possibly see that was so dangerous and reckless in intimacy, wondering how anything terrible could come out of something that, already before it had developed into much, felt so natural, so satisfying. It's interesting to think now that, as much as it eluded me then - lying in the dark, shaking my head at how ridiculous I thought they all were - later, I would come to understand their reasoning perfectly.

4

It happened much later than I thought it would, and it was interesting that once it arrived, the aura of secrecy and mystery that had always surrounded Coming of Age didn't disappear. I'd expected there to be some kind of formal announcement, but that wasn't the case. Instead, a young man or woman would just suddenly be gone, and when we asked about them, we were told, albeit guardedly, coldly, that they were Coming of Age and would only return to the community once they were ready. We noted that this usually took anywhere from a few days to a week. Of course, we'd all expected to find out what it was all about through the whispers, but when people returned, they were different, and seemed to have forgotten the secret understanding between us all that secrets weren't really secrets in the first place. Yet this wasn't the only change. Once people returned, they were reticent, quiet, seemed older; and likewise, the Elders had instantly come to regard them differently, always looking at them with long, understanding glances, giving them a sorrowful smirk whenever they passed.

Though, thankfully, this change in their demeanour didn't really last. Usually within a few days after their education had moved into the Great Hall, the young men and women who had Come of Age started to seem a bit more contented again, confident, even buoyant, and in turn, the Elders stopped favouring them, or at least stopped being so gentle around them. However, things were a little different with Mikkel.

The time between his disappearing from the community and returning to it was longer than most of the others. And when he did return, he wasn't well - he didn't even look healthy. Mikkel, who was normally one of the most social people on the island, became completely withdrawn. He would sit alone at the table for long periods of time after we'd eaten, his arms crossed over his chest, posture sagging, staring at the empty plate in front of him; and the Elders never stopped paying intent and specific attention to him, the women rubbing his back for a few moments as they passed, the men smiling tenderly in his direction, whispering to themselves, nodding their heads. It was only after a month or so that something seemed to click in him, and he began reverting to his likeable, social self, slowly getting back into conversations and seeming a bit happier.

At about this time, I thought I'd noticed him looking at me more often than usual, smiling with a warm grin whenever our eyes met, and generally watching me out of the corner of his eye. Which struck me as odd. And as a rule, Mikkel didn't do things that were odd. I hoped to myself that he was genuinely 'okay'. Then, after meeting him in the forest one afternoon, I realized he was as far from it as he could possibly get.

I thought at the time that it was quite accidental that we should happen across each other when and where we did, but looking back, he'd probably been waiting for the opportunity for quite a while. I was walking along one of the trails that linked two parts of the community together when he threw a rock into the bushes beside me. I turned to look at him. This was one of the things that we'd learned as children: if you wanted to do something secretly, the last thing to do was make suspicious noises to indicate it - as it was the hushed 'psst' sounds, or whispers of 'hey', that the Elders had trained their ears for. If you really wanted to keep something secret, you didn't make a sound at all; and apparently Mikkel really wanted to keep this secret. He nodded his head towards the trees and underbrush away from the trail, and we both looked over our shoulders before walking into them, watching where we were stepping, careful not to break any twigs. When we were far enough into the trees, he came closer and we crouched down, out of sight.

"What's up?" I whispered. I was surprised that he wanted to say something to me alone. I respected Mikkel, thought the world of him really; like everyone did.

"Listen - I think you're going to Come of Age soon," he muttered. He looked a little nervous.

I raised my eyebrows. I'd never seen him nervous before, which wasn't exactly reassuring. "Really? How do you know?"

"Because they don't have to concentrate on me anymore. They think I'm alright, which only means they'll move onto the next one of us."

"So, how do you know it's me?"

"No," Mikkel shook his head, seeming more frustrated than I thought he had reason to be, "you don't understand. Not the next one of them, the next one of us."

"I... You're right. I don't understand."

"Yeah, I know. And you wouldn't - I'm not explaining myself very well here. But... I haven't had time to... I mean - I wanted to find something that..." Mikkel looked down at the ground and held his breath, seemingly as a means of calming himself. Then he looked up at me, his chest still expanded, and let the air out before he began to speak, his voice suddenly cool again. "Look. I wanted to ask you something. Would you promise me two things?"

"Of course," I said, wanting nothing more than to please him.

"First, I want to meet with you to talk. There're a few things I've been thinking about that... I wanted to pass by you, get your views on." He paused for a moment, reflecting, and then he lowered his voice to a whisper, "And, I want you to swear that you won't tell anyone we're going to meet. Do you swear?" he asked quickly, grabbing hold of my shoulder. "Do you?"

"Uh, yeah... yeah, sure. I swear."

"Good," he nodded, slowly, seriously. And then, as if remembering something, he gave me an uneasy smile, which soon melted away, "We should go."

"Okay," I agreed, and poked my head just above the underbrush to see if the coast was clear, but Mikkel grabbed onto my arm once more.

"No. You should walk the other way - meet up with the trail going to the Community Hall. I'll go this way." He stood and started creeping through the foliage, not waiting for a response, focusing on his feet, carefully weighting each step so as not to make the slightest crackle.

"Sure," I whispered to his back, probably a little too late. He didn't turn around.

That night, I recounted the strange conversation, rolling it over in my mind, looking for meaning, hoping to understand even the smallest piece of it. It was so exasperating! There always seemed to be facts around me that were just under the surface. Nothing was given to you. You always had to dig for it, steal it, hide it, shove it into your pocket when no one was looking. I just wanted to know, if only for a few seconds, what it felt like to be on the other side of the secrets, to know what was really going on around me and why. I earnestly hoped that Mikkel was right in saying that I would Come of Age soon. I was sick of being in the dark. Who really cared if I would have a month of sitting at the table and looking grave after eating my meals? At least I would know what there was to be grave about. And I told myself that I was undoubtedly ready for it, whatever 'it' happened to be.

And Mikkel was right when he said they would move onto me next. As it turned out, Harek would take me into the shelter the very next day.

5

I was meant to spend my last class of the afternoon in one of the thatched huts, furthest from the clutter of the other community buildings. I had been taught there before and so didn't really think anything of it. It was supposed to be an individual class as well, so I was walking along the trail alone when I came through the trees and could see the hut for the first time. Harek was waiting for me outside, his hands clasped together, his arms forming a patient "V" out in front of him. I suddenly understood what was about to happen, and smiled.

Harek was a large man who had a white, well-trimmed beard and unsettlingly bright green eyes. I'd always thought his eyes suited him perfectly, that they somehow matched the intensity he had in him, a fervency that, I believe, never really abated. Because he acted in only one of two ways: either he was disinterested in what was going on, completely lost in thought, his eyes jotting around as if tracing random thoughts bouncing off the inner recesses of his skull; or he was bursting with fiery animation right in the middle of things, his voice and presence demanding everyone's full attention. I liked him, mostly. Though like everyone else, I felt a tinge of fear with him as well. I guess I admired him in that peculiar way that one can admire a volcano while standing on the rim of its crater, an invisible and fascinating force murmuring below one's feet. And I think I liked him because of this strange volatility, because he always seemed either on the verge of settling into a long silence, or blowing up - but nothing in between. It kept things interesting.

He watched me as I approached, waiting to speak until I was standing right in front of him. "And? Do you think you're ready for this?"

I nodded, blistering with confidence, "Absolutely."