The 9th year

In the 8 years since coming here, I have learned how to live alone. At 1st I had the excuse of needing to see my loved ones. And then they were gone and there was nothing left to do. No one to tend. No one to live for. So I learned to get by without reasons. I have no justification for my existence anymore. I am nobody’s father, nobody’s husband, nobody’s son or brother or friend. It shames me sometimes, this urge to survive. It seems shallow, and animalistic, to want to go on when no one I care for is around. And then a stranger came and talked to me and made me remember what it was like, to discover the echoes of yourself in someone else’s story. I allowed myself to imagine we were friends. I permitted myself to hope for more. But she was just another scavenger. Always wanting something, easy transport, fresh meat, portable wealth. I told her to pack her things and go. She went crazy, I thought she was going to hurt me. Then suddenly all her rage and contempt seemed to disappear, and in her silence I understood. It was not desire that motivated her, it was not greed either, though I could see how badly she craved material things. But whatever demons hounded her were stronger than desire. I found her raining down blows on her own bare back. The whip was not mine. It must have been her own, brought with her out of that past she refused to reveal. I wondered what sin she atoned for, whom she had abandoned, or stolen from, or murdered. I wonder whose faith she had betrayed. I came awake to the sound of quiet weeping. She lay with her head on my lap, I thought of her as a penitent nun. But now I see that she was merely a sorrowing child. The next morning she askd me to acompany her to church. I told her that there wasn’t any point. Whatever her scam was, I wasn’t buying it. I would have forgiven her anything, so grateful was I for the chance to escape my own life.