Chapter 3 #2
The next night, alone and scared, I knocked on her door.
I was broken, still hurt, and all I could think to do was grab her hand, pull her to me and kiss her.
I could taste the salt of her dried tears.
I promised myself, if we stayed together, we could protect each other from the terrors of what happened.
I put my arms around her under the full moon and I let myself do something I’d never done before. I kissed her and she kissed me back. With a desperation to forget the pain and simply be loved by someone who knew every piece of you and still loved you.
But right then the door opened, and her father was standing there with bags slung over his shoulders and a look on his face that didn’t mean anything good.
"We're leaving," he barked. "See yourself home, Hansel.” He shoved me back, whatever moment was there, was broken.
“Father,” Gretel protested. “It’s dark. We can’t—”
"We're leaving," he repeated, his voice stern but also full of dread, and shifted the bag to his other arm so he could pull Gretel along with him. The tale of what we went through had spread through the town and fear was potent. It drifted from her father as he rushed them away.
I followed them, numb. He already had their horse harnessed to their small, rickety wagon and more belongings packed inside. They didn’t have much to begin with, but seeing it all piled in the wagon like that made my stomach clench.
“Where are you taking her?” I questioned and he ignored me. The man was already gone by the looks in his eyes.
“Hansel,” she cried out as she looked back, her eyes shining, but her father steered her into the wagon.
And then she was gone. Stolen away in the middle of the night. Taken from me.
The very next week, the fires came.
I don’t know how Gretel’s father heard about the fires. Everyone must have known. I didn’t know he had come back to help fight them until someone found his body.
He was pinned down at the far corner of one of the fields when the flames backed him into a wooden storage shed meant to hold tools for the harvest. All the work we did fighting the fires came to nothing. They burned too hot, and too fast. The whole village together couldn’t stop them.
When the sun came up, Gretel was an orphan.
Nobody could tell me what happened to her.
Weeks past and I suffered alone, some doubting what happened, others fearing what I would bring next. They blamed me, some even hated me. I stopped trying to find her.
I was drowning in the pain from the witch’s cottage. Sometimes I’d hear rumors about how she was with this relative, or that one. This village or that one. But she didn’t send a letter. I didn’t hear from her.
I started to think maybe she blamed me too. Maybe she hated me too.
The only other time I saw her was when she came back to her father’s old house, which had sat empty after she left.
By then it was too late. I was bitter, and felt betrayed, and I wanted nothing to do with her.
The famine had already hit hard. It was a struggle to find work.
And a very deep part of me didn’t want her to stay.
Not when this life was waiting for her. She had a chance to run. If only I could run with her.
I didn’t recognize myself anymore. Gretel didn’t seem to recognize the person I’d become, either.
“Let’s play a game,” she blurts out, as if she’s been thinking the same thing and decided those memories are too painful for right now. “Never have I ever.” Her voice is oddly uplifting for the mood I find myself in.
My brow arches. A child’s game? Silence contemplates with me before I acquiesce. “You go first, then.”
“Never have I ever…” Gretel bites her lip, her brow furrowed. “Kissed someone… like other than you.”
“Is that so?” I say shocked. She’s lovely. Beautiful in every way. How could someone not take her hand as I did?
“I’ve forgotten what it even feels like,” she whispers, her eyes wide and staring deep into mine. A fire blazes within me.
“Gretel,” I warn, my voice low. “You know not what you do.”
She stares at me a moment and although I try to look away, I’m caught in her gaze.
“I know what I'm doing. I miss you.”
I pull on the reins, and my horse clatters to a stop. I reach for her without hesitation, put my hand on her face, and pull her in for a kiss.
Her lips mold to mine, just like it used to be, and she opens for me, letting me explore her in a deep, hot kiss.
I’m greedy for it. Feels like fire to kiss her. Like every piece of me is being awakened for the first time since we got back from the witch’s house.
She moans into my mouth and I feel the sweet sound everywhere. It’s far too much and the lusty haze clears for a moment.
I pull back to catch my breath. I grip her chin for a few more beats before I can force myself to let go.
“There,” I say, my heart racing, and take the reins again, urging the horse on.
There’s silence, after that. Every thought races in my mind. I don’t have an answer to any question and I have no idea if she feels what I feel. If this racing in my blood is what fuels her teasing me.
“Well?” I say.
“Well?” Gretel repeats.
“Is it my turn?”
“I don’t—” Gretel shakes her head. “I don’t think...”
“Alright.”
We roll along down the road for a while. The quiet now doesn't seem as strained as it did before. Maybe I’m just imagining that, but I hope I’m not.
“Did you want to play it just to kiss me?” I ask her.
She hesitates but then answers, “Not at first. I just wanted to talk.”
I nod, believing her and then let my breath turn to fog in front of my face.
"You look the same," I can’t help saying. It’s the first thing I thought of when she came back to town, and it’s the first thing I thought of when I opened the door for her last night.,
“What?”
"You look the same.” I nudge her elbow with mine. "But older."
Gretel huffs a laugh. "Well, that's good, I suppose. How much older?"
I laugh, then. It’s the first real laugh I think I’ve laughed in months. Maybe even years. It reminds me of what we used to be. “You look good, Gretel. You taste good too.”
She turns her face away, probably to hide that she’s blushing. There’s so much more I want to say, but none of it makes any sense. It’s all nonsense about how I felt about her. How I missed her. How I don’t understand how she could leave me when I needed her so. How I want to know.
I can’t make myself say any of it.
After a minute, I exhale and focus back on the road.