Chapter Text
I watched my mom and dad retreat into our marui for the night, ready to put Tuk to bed now that Lo’ak had been found. It was past Tuk’s bedtime.
I stood on the pier and turned to look out toward the reef. Their disappointed faces kept flashing in my head. Their words echoing and echoing.
Where were you? and Yeah, what happened to ‘keep an eye on your brother’?
I ducked my head and wiped my eyes, which were shamefully tearing. I shook my head and tried to breathe slowly but couldn’t. I felt –
I couldn’t describe how I felt. Like running? Like screaming? Like breaking something? I couldn’t place it, only that the feeling was filling me to the brim and like every other time I failed to live up to my parents’ expectations, no matter how hard I tried, I struggled to contain the feeling, to push it back.
After my dad asked me, “So what’d the other guys look like?” about the Metkayina we fought earlier today, making me think for a single moment that I might have made him proud, that I might even get to hear him say he was proud that I helped defend my sister, and just feeling in that moment how close I was, or thought I was, to his approval, for once – letting him down tonight was harder to bear than usual, and it was so frustrating that whether I protected my siblings, or didn’t, either way I wasn’t enough for him. I didn’t know how to be enough for him. I didn’t know how to make him proud.
I walked off away from our marui headed for the beach. It wasn’t so late yet that I was expected to be in bed, and as long as I stayed close I was allowed to be out. Walking along the shore with the ocean breeze always managed to soothe me.
The waves rolled in slowly, rhythmically, barely brushing against my feet as I walked under the stars. Behind me, Awa’atlu was beginning to settle down for the night. People were returning from the reef, retreating into their maruis and dousing torches. I let out a long breath, feeling better now that I had a moment to myself.
And of course that was when the shape of someone sitting on the beach came into focus: Ao’nung. He was crouching, arms on his knees, looking out at the water, looking deep in thought – which I thought was unusual. His freckles glowed in the dark.
I started walking with purpose toward him.
When he saw me he startled and leaned away, like he thought I might hit him – and I very well might have, if it wouldn’t mean getting in trouble with my dad again.
Instead, I demanded, “Why did you let my brother take the fall for you? It’s not enough to leave him outside the reef to die?”
He put his arms up in surrender, but nothing like he had earlier today before our fight. Earlier, he’d been posturing. He’d been mocking. This time, he looked genuinely guilty.
“I don’t know,” he said, “But I already talked to Lo’ak – okay? We’re even, now.”
“Even?” I scoffed, “Even for what? You started this!”
I stepped closer to him and he scooted back in the sand before scrambling to get up. He still looked like he was afraid I might hurt him. Earlier tonight I’d dragged him by his kuru across the village in order to make him confess, so he knew I could if I wanted and would if I needed to.
“Fine, fine! Not – not even. But – we’re good, now. I’m not going to fuck with him anymore,” he said. When I neither responded nor backed off, he added, “I swear, Neteyam.”
“Just because Lo’ak’s forgiven you, doesn’t mean I have,” I said.
At this Ao’nung deflated, and his features softened. “I know. Look – hit me, if you’re going to. Get even with me.”
At this I froze, and all the anger fizzled out of me. “What?”
“Get back at me, if you’re going to,” he said.
I laughed in disbelief. “You think that would make it up to me? Letting me hit you?”
“Fine, don’t then. Just – tell me what you want me to do,” he said.
I shook my head, realizing just how different we were, and went to walk away.
“Neteyam!” he said and grabbed my wrist. I swung around to glare at him. “Come on – what can I do?”
I furrowed my brow at him. “Why do you care if we’re even?”
He let go of my wrist and stepped back. Then he rubbed the back of his head and looked away, before responding, “I don’t know.”
I cocked my head at him, only just realizing something.
“Why didn’t you take me outside the reef?” I asked, no accusation in my tone. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but now I genuinely wanted to know.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I was in the fight too,” I said. “So why didn’t you leave both of us outside the reef?”
“You weren’t there when we were leaving, I guess,” Ao’nung said, but it didn’t sound like he believed that. His expression was tight, controlled. He looked uncomfortable. I only looked more closely at him.
“You could have told Lo’ak to come get me,” I said, and looked away from him, out toward the water, trying to remember how everything went down earlier that day. My dad had told Lo’ak to apologize to Ao’nung, and Lo’ak had left to do exactly that. I didn’t go with because Dad hadn’t asked me to apologize too, and I wasn’t going to apologize to Ao’nung if I didn’t have to. But it would have only taken a couple of minutes for them to return and ask me to go with.
“You wouldn’t have come,” Ao’nung said then, and this time he sounded sure.
I paused. That was true. I would have tried to convince Lo’ak not to go.
But – Lo’ak wouldn’t have listened.
And I would have been forced to go with anyway, to “keep an eye on him.”
That was part of why my parents’ words had hurt so bad this time. The only reason I hadn’t kept an eye on my brother was because I had no idea he’d left the reef. As soon as I found out, I dragged Ao’nung to them to ensure I wouldn’t be the one punished for what happened to him. It was all I could do, at that point.
And I was punished anyway.
“I would have gone, because Lo’ak wouldn’t have stayed,” I said then, and looked back to Ao’nung. “You know I would have.”
Ao’nung looked exasperated and said, “Who cares? Do you want me to leave you outside the reef, for fuck’s sake?”
I eyed him closely. Everything about him was off. He was trying to sound like his usual cocky self, but it wasn’t working. Ao’nung just looked nervous.
“I don’t understand,” I said to him, my frustration growing, “First you make fun of my sister. Then you leave Lo’ak outside the reef. But me, you leave alone. Why? Just because I don’t have extra fingers doesn’t mean I don’t have demon blood too, you know.”
At this Ao’nung startled and shook his head, both to disagree and to express his confusion with my line of thinking.
“I know that,” he said, “Look – if you want to know why I gave your siblings so much shit, you’re out of luck. I don’t know why I did it and I don’t know why it fucking matters because I’m not going to do it anymore. I’m sorry I did it at all. I told you – we’re good, now. You might not be good with me, but I’m good with you – And your siblings. I shouldn’t have let Lo’ak take the fall for me, but I’m not going to forget that he did.”
I hesitated to respond, looking him up and down, gauging how sincere he was being. Then I sighed. He seemed genuine.
“Fine,” I said, “We’re even, then.”
“Really?” he asked, clearly shocked that of all things, an apology was what I wanted from him.
I slumped down then, crouching in the sand, and looking out at the water. Ao’nung hesitated, seemingly unsure whether or not he should stay. I didn’t say anything and let him decide for himself whether or not he wanted to. It made no difference to me.
He crouched in the sand beside me. I didn’t look at him, but I could feel him looking at me. He still seemed nervous about something. He didn’t need to be. Whatever I was feeling, it was no longer directed at him.
Mostly, now, I was just feeling exhausted. Not exhausted like I needed to sleep, either. Exhausted like I needed to get away from something. Exhausted like I needed to be somewhere it was easier to breathe.
“I saw you with your parents earlier,” he said, after a couple of minutes had passed. “Why were they scolding you?”
I looked at him to see if he was being serious. He was.
“Because they’re disappointed in me,” I said.
Ao’nung scoffed, and I furrowed my brow at his reaction.
“What do they have to be disappointed in you for?” he asked. “You didn’t go outside the reef.”
“I should have been there to protect Lo’ak,” I said, like it was obvious. Wasn’t it?
“It’s not your fault you weren’t there,” he said, “It was mine.”
At this I huffed out a laugh. I didn’t disagree, but it made no difference. I said, “It’s always my fault, Ao’nung. I’m the older brother. You should know – what if something happened to Tsireya? What would your parents say to you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. She never gets in trouble. But – I know that if something happened to Tsireya and they tried to blame me for it, I’d be pissed.”
I swallowed thickly at his words. My eyes stung again, and I willed myself not to let my emotions get the best of me. The last thing I wanted in the world was to cry in front of Ao’nung. My tail flitted too erratically against the sand, and I tried to purposefully slow it down, not wanting it to give me away as it so often did.
“I guess we’re different. If something happened to one of my siblings, I’d blame myself. I’d be pissed at myself,” I said, then, ducking my head down and flattening my ears. I felt shame again, just thinking about something happening to one of my siblings.
“Hey,” Ao’nung said, and nudged me. I looked up at him. His expression was startlingly severe, and his pale blue eyes gleamed in the starlight. I almost didn’t breathe.
“If something happens someday, you can’t blame yourself,” he said. “All you do, all day, is look after your siblings, Neteyam. You do everything for them. If I know anything about you, it’s that if something happened to one of them it would be because there was nothing you could do.”
I gaped at him, truly not breathing for a moment. His expression was so earnest. I’d never seen him like this before – without the bravado, without the eagerness to mock. And of all the things for him to say, while being so earnest – he said that?
I swallowed finally, and breathed.
“Thank you,” I said, and meant it. The way he said it – I almost believed it, even. But I couldn’t let myself. “But you’re wrong.”
Then I stood and started walking away from him. All the torches in the village were out now, and I knew my parents would be wondering where I was. I would not risk disappointing them again, by returning home too late.
“Neteyam,” he said.
I turned to face him, trying to disguise my emotions, despite how open he was being with me.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“I…I don’t know. I’m sorry,” he said. His expression was still so earnest. His eyes wide. I could hardly believe it. I was half convinced I must be imagining it.
I shook my head. “For what? Goodnight, Ao’nung.”
Then I left him, and I felt him watch me walk all the way back to my marui.
Once I was lying down for the night, I stared up through the cover of the marui at the few stars that peeked through. I listened to the waves crashing in below me, hoping it would lull me to sleep, like they usually did. Sleep evaded me.
It wasn’t my parents’ faces flashing in my mind, or my parents’ words echoing, anymore.
It was Ao’nung’s face in my mind as he said you can’t blame yourself.