Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
Tai
“Sandstorm!” I shout over the howling wind.
I crawl on hands and knees towards Bri. She’s on all fours, her hair whipping around her face when she looks up. The sand below me gives out, and I scramble to not sink down with it.
In the blink of an eye, she’s gone.
I frantically spin around, but I can’t see more than a few inches in front of me.
“Bri!” I bellow into the wind.
After a dozen or so steps, I stop and yell for her again. I can’t lose her. Not after all this.
“Bri!”
Somehow through the wind I hear her call my name. I blindly sprint in that direction, barely able to keep my eyes open.
“Bri!” I get a mouthful of sand. I spit it out and call for her again.
For a split second, the wind clears and I see her huddled on the ground, sand coating her body and piling up around her.
I pick her up and pull her into my pounding chest. Her eyes are plastered shut, her hands clinging to me.
I put her hand on my waist and wrap her fingers around a belt loop. “Don’t let go!” I have no idea if she heard me. Her hair has pulled free from the long braid and is whipping her face, getting caught in her mouth and around her neck.
I pull off my backpack and fumble around for the tent pouch. Hopefully, it’s strong enough to withstand the storm.
I let go of her hand to pull the tent out of the pouch. It breaks free from the bag and pops into shape in front of us. I hold down one corner of the tent with my foot. Sand is pelting the fabric and piling up on the sides. I grab Bri’s kaftan at the chest and push her into the tent ahead of me.
Using sand as an anchor, I half bury the tent in the ground and hope it’s enough to keep us from blowing away. I get in the tent with Bri and collapse against the ground.
It’s still loud, but at least we have a barrier between us and the pounding sand. Bri is on her hands and knees sputtering, trying to get sand and hair out of her mouth. I reach over and pull her hair away from her face and wipe away the sand from her cheeks.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, examining her for injury.
“I’m okay. You?”
“Never better.” I laugh. I’m not having much luck brushing the sand off my shirt, so I pull it off over my head and toss it in the corner of the tent. Bri’s eyes widen when they land on my chest. The boots come off next and end up next to the dirty shirt.
Bri brushes the sand off her arms and legs then goes to work on taming her knotted hair. Fascinated, I watch as she combs her fingers patiently through, working section by section.
“Have you seen my hair tie? Are you sitting on it?” she asks.
I shift forward and look under me and don’t see anything. I pat my hands all over the floor of the tent looking for her hair tie. I look under my shirt and boots while she searches her side of the tent.
“I don’t see it,” I say reluctantly.
“Fuck.”
Defeated, she hunches and sinks farther down to the ground. Her face crumples and she bites her lower lip, keeping it between her teeth. It takes me a minute to realize what’s happening: she’s crying.
She sniffs and rubs her wrist across her face.
“Bri.”
“It’s nothing. I really needed that hair tie,” she says and more tears pour from her. “It’s just a hair tie. It’s not a big deal. I don’t even know why I’m crying.” She hiccups and hides her face from me with her hands.
I scoot up next to her and pull her hands away. “It’s okay. I’ll go find it.”
“No. It’s gone. I’ll be fine,” she says and I see a wall come up over her face. The one that is stronger than I thought possible, and I hate it. I prefer when she lets her guard down. She let me in for a brief second, then put the wall back up.
“Whatever you need, it’s yours.”
“Knock it off. You sound like the brethren.” She laughs between sniffles and pushes playfully at my chest.
“You’ve been through a lot. If you need a hair tie, then I’ll find it.” I search for the softness I got such a short glimpse of. I know it’s in there somewhere.
“I have been through a lot.” The tears start falling again. This time I pull her to my chest and hold her against me. Her body goes rigid for a second before relaxing into me, letting me support her.
I rub my hands up and down her back, comforting her and letting her cry it out. After seeing Bri stay strong this whole time, watching her in awe as she’s handled every single thing that has come her way, I’m glad I get to be the one she lets in. The one she trusts enough to fall apart around.
“Does the hair tie have important human significance?” I ask.
She laughs through her tears. “No, not at all. It was my only one. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.”
“You’re going to need to explain that one to me.” I keep rubbing her back, worried that if I stop, she’ll pull away. “I know what a camel is. How could a straw break its back?”
“It means someone can cope with a lot of tiny things, but after a while they pile up and get heavy, and eventually the last straw becomes too much, and it breaks the camel’s back.”
It crushes my heart that she feels this way. She has been carrying a lot. All on her own, never once asking for help. Something inside me comes to life at the thought of being the one to help carry her burdens.
“You’re stronger than any Tilak I’ve ever met, but you aren’t alone. I’m here. Let me help you.” I was hoping to make her smile, but instead, she sobs into my chest again.
“Thank you, Tai.”
She pulls away from me far too soon. She straightens her dress and uses the hem to dry her tears.
I grab my shirt, rip off a strip of fabric, and twist it up. It’s a poor substitute for the hair tie that means so much to her.
“Here, try this.” I hand it over.
She pats down the tangles, pulls her hair back and ties it off.
With nothing left to do, and now feeling incredibly awkward about staring at her, I lie down and stare at the ceiling, watching it billow from the sand and wind above.
Bri lies next to me and inches her way closer until our bodies are touching shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, all the way down our legs.
“You give good hugs,” she says without looking at me.
“Not too bad for a first-timer?” I ask.
“That was your first hug?” Surprised, she jerks her head toward me.
“Yeah.” I don’t dare look over at her. There was never a person to hug. And now, I can’t imagine sharing a hug with anyone else.