4. Luke
4
LUKE
I look over and she’s sitting with her wine and for once it feels nice to have company that isn't my dad. I was frustrated by the fact she was out here on her own, looking for mythical wolves in a snowstorm. After putting the stew to simmer, I tidy up the kitchen and sit down opposite her at the table. I take a sip of the wine and savor the taste of it.
"So, as a photographer do you travel a lot? What kind of pictures do you prefer taking?" If I’m going to spend the night with this woman, I might as well try to get to know her a little. I watch her over the top of my glass as she takes a sip and then swallows.
"I travel all over the world. I like wildlife photography, but I have taken photos of so many different things. I've been in precarious positions, which is challenging, but those are my favorite. I like the adrenaline of getting the photos that normal photographers don't want to risk getting. I've made a lot of money over the years with my photos." She takes another sip.
"Interesting. What is your favorite photo that you've ever taken?"
"Oh, delving deep in the get to know you questions." She laughs. It feels good to have some noise in here. I'm usually here on my own and all I do is read and sit in front of the fire. I didn't know that I missed laughter as much as I do right now.
I laugh. "Well, it's going to be a long couple of days if we don't find out more about each other."
"There was one time I went to India to Lakshmi Tatma, she's the girl who was born with eight limbs. The extra limbs were from rare parasitic conjoined twin, and it could kill her. She comes from a very poor background, and I wanted to photograph her with her parents and in her home town. She was amazing, I had a translator with me and she said that she's used to living the way she is and that she will be sad when her other limbs are removed. She was scheduled for surgery when I was there. She had the surgery, she survived but faces many health issues. I went back to photograph her years after her surgery, and she looked like she’d never walk or be able to do much. She said she didn't feel whole anymore."
"Wow, I remember reading about her and I think that there is a documentary about her. She was a happy young girl. She has to get used to a whole load of new obstacles with only four limbs. She will have been used to having the other limbs there. Wait, did you sell those to National Geographic? I saw those pictures and they were amazing."
"Yes, that's me." She blushes, which I don't expect. Since I walked in here, she's been hard and to the point. But she clearly doesn't take compliments well. Interesting.
"I like to get in with the unusual things in life and also the animals. I don't mind being in danger, in fact I prefer it."
"I see that. How did this trip come about? Who wants to walk in these mountains in the snowy season?" I pour us both another glass of wine.
"Thanks. I'm always looking for different things to take pictures of and I've been following the information about the Blue Wolves for as long as I can remember. It's interesting and finding out whether it's true or a myth is what I'm all about. I did altitude training to come here. I have all the gear. I'm not just a woman who wandered off the path and ended up on the side of a mountain. I came prepared."
"I see that. You were carrying a heavy bag with you." I stand and turn the stew off. Then I bring it over to the table and put it on the coaster and say, "Tuck in, I hope you like it." Do I really? Do I really want her to like what I made her? I was making it for myself anyway, right?
"Thank you." We both put some into our bowls and the cabin is silent while we eat. I look at her once or twice just to take her in. She is one of the most beautiful women I've seen in a long time. I don't always live up on the mountain and I'm not celibate, but no one has caught my attention. I don't want the bimbos or the ones that are looking for just a one-night stand. Well, I've had a few of those, but they make you feel cheap, and I hate that feeling.
We both have a second helping of the stew. "Oh my god, Luke this is so tasty, I must get the recipe off you."
"It's easy really, but I'm happy to give you the recipe. It’s my mom's. It's been handed down through the generations. Mom wanted to pass it down to the next girl in the family, but they only had me so she passed it onto me and made sure I could cook it. She showed me a lot about cooking. I didn't get much chance to do it when I was in the military as we were always deployed. I only have my parents, so made sure I came home as often as I could, but I always took the extra deployments. So, I never got the chance to cook. That's why I always bring food up with me so that I can try different things." She's smiling at me.
"That’s so beautiful. I don't see much of my parents, so I was never handed down any recipes or anything. I learned how to throw things into a pan and watch them boil. I'm a ramen noodle kind of a gal."
"That's a shame, maybe I can show you." What am I suggesting? Do I really think I'll see her again when we leave here? Do I want to? I think so, but things could change.
"That would be great." She looks at me as she takes a sip of wine. Interesting.
We clear the dishes and take another glass of wine and sit on the only two chairs in the cabin. It's small, remember. I put more wood on the fire.
"Do you cut that yourself?" She nods at the woodpile in the corner.
"Yes, it's the first thing I always do when I get up here. I knew that I needed enough for a few days, so chopped a lot. But with another person in here, I think I'll have to cut some more up tomorrow. I don't normally have it this warm."
"I'm sorry. If I could go down the mountain then I would. But look it's terrible." She looks over to the window, where the snow is falling heavily and building up against it.
"I'd never throw anyone out in this. I'm not sure we’ll go upwards tomorrow but look we can try and see how far we get."
"I really appreciate it. Now you know about my photographic history, tell me where you were deployed and are you still active?"
"I'm not active, I've been medically discharged."
"I'm sorry to hear that." She takes a sip of her wine, and I know she wants to ask more.
"I'm okay with it. We were in Afghanistan fighting the Taliban and it was horrific. They really don't care that their women and children are killed in the fighting. We didn't want to kill civilians, but sometimes we were given the wrong intel. I didn't go into the military to kill women and children and that weighed heavily on me. I know that some of them were in the Taliban. You’d see kids of like six or seven years of age, walking around with rifles and it was really hard to see. They were born into war, and they were robbed of their childhoods. I think of them when I'm at home with my parents and it makes me even more grateful."
"I'm sorry that you had to witness that. It must’ve been terrible."
"It was and it fucked with my brain. I still have nightmares of killing kids, even though I knew there was a chance they’d have killed me without even thinking about it."
She looks at me for a while. Then she reaches down and touches my hand. "Do you think you’re ever going to be able to sleep without nightmares?"
"I don't know. Some nights I don't have them, but that's because I don't sleep for long, but if I was having a full night’s sleep then I always have a nightmare."
She squeezes my hand. "I have nightmares too. I was always left to fend for myself. I think I was about eight. Well, that's the first memory I have of being home alone. I woke up and my parents were gone. I ran around the house shouting for them. It felt like a full week before they showed up, but it was only two hours apparently."
She looks out of the window, deep in thought. "Soon they were leaving me all day. I had to make food, eat by myself. I went to school, came home and was on my own. They were working and would come home and expect me to have made food for them all. I didn't know how to cook, and I'd get in trouble. This went on for years until they went on holiday and left me at home on my own for a week. I was three days into the week when I was trying to boil an egg for breakfast. I turned the gas on and there was a knock at the door. I went to see who it was, and it was the postman looking for my mom. I told him she wasn't there, and he asked when she’d be back. I said in four days. He asked who was looking after me. I told him I was. I closed the door, but he tried to get me to open it. When I did, he told me he was calling the police because they needed to come and make sure I was okay. He pushed his way inside and when he looked around, he looked at me and cried. "You've been living like this for a while, kid," he said. I told him I had. What I didn't know was that he was a smoker. So, he pulled out his cigarettes.
"Kid, let’s get you outside and we can call the police. They’ll look after you. He pulled out his lighter and as soon as he pushed it to light it there was an enormous explosion. The windows were blown out. The walls had a hole in them. We were both thrown away from the explosion. I landed in the sitting room by the window. I could see the house was on fire. When I finally managed to get up, I ran outside to look for the postman. He had been thrown out of the door, but he landed funny. I went up to him and he looked at me. He told me that I was on fire. I didn't know why it didn't hurt, but I found out later it was because of an adrenaline spike. We were both injured and had burns. I thought I'd never see him again, but when I woke up in the hospital he and his wife were there holding my hands. I looked at them both and they told me that they had arranged it with CPS that they wanted to foster me and eventually adopt me. It's because of them I've been able to do everything that I did. I got a full ride scholarship to college and then set up my freelancing business. Unfortunately, they both died a few years ago in a car crash. But I owe them everything."
"That is so sad, Emma. You managed on your own when most of us would’ve just laid there."
"It was do something or die. I wasn't ready to die at that time in my life."
"I'm sorry they treated you like that." It's so sad and makes my life seem so privileged. "We are a pair aren't we. Both of us suffer nightmares when we should be sleeping peacefully."
"Yeah, so true. I'm getting tired, do you have anywhere I can sleep. I have a blow-up mattress in my bag, I can sleep on the floor here." She points to the floor by the wood burner.
"No, you can take the room, and I'll sleep on the floor. I'm used to sleeping wherever I can."
"Absolutely, not. I crashed your cabin, so you shouldn't have to sleep out here. Please let me do this."
"Okay, but I want it known that if we’re still here tomorrow night, then you're sleeping on the bed."
"Deal." She stands and goes to her bag to get the mattress. After blowing it up, she grabs a pillow from the chair and her sleeping bag and climbs inside.
"See you in the morning."
I tidy our glasses away and then go into the bedroom. I hate the thought of her sleeping out there, but it's what she insisted on. Climbing into bed, I lay there with my hands under my head and stare at the ceiling. I wonder if I’m even going to get some sleep tonight or not. But I'm tired. It's been really nice sharing my space with someone else.