Robyn Bashaw
the return of gadra
She sat up, dusting off her hands that were still warm from pressing against the dirt. A moment passed and she shifted her legs, loosening the rusty muscles. She stood, shifting her weight between her heels and the balls of her feet. She tore her gaze from the horizon to glance down at her speckled hands where small divots remained, mirrors of the pebbles beneath her feet.
The sun had traveled the world and, with its 333rd return, she knew he would come. Sporting the treasures it had gathered in its worldwide travels, the fiery creature peeked over the mountain at her, nearly tripping over the horse and rider cautiously making their way down the trail. Her foot moved to step forward, but she caught it in mid-air, forcing it to sit patiently beneath her as she found a boulder to rest on.
She wondered if the rider had made it to the sea, that blue sky of the ground she had dreamed so much about, in his year sojourn to find his manhood. The blue was said to extend on forever. She imagined one could climb into a boat and sail on beneath the sun and the moon and the stars and maybe live out one’s entire life without ever running into shore or people again. The rider and she had once sat and spoken of the possibilities that might exist within the legendary waves of the sea, but that had been long ago when they were both children.
His black figure shimmered against the background of gold and green. When the tall shadow creature touched the Earth, she leaped up and raced towards it. His darkened face tilted back as he laughed at her bare feet and loose hair. Dismounting smoothly, he covered her body with his and, for a second, she rested her head against his thick, broad shoulder.
“How have you been, Nali?”
She allowed herself to be pushed away and surveyed. “Decent, but life’s dull without you here, Gadra.”
A satisfied grunt slipped from his throat, but his eyebrows furrowed as his gaze drifted down. “What have you done to your dress?”
She looked down and her eyes widened to see that she had ripped the hem in two when she had tucked her knees. “Oops.”
A smile grew on Gadra’s face as he shook his head. “This is why I missed you, Nali. You say ‘oops’ in answer to a question.”
“Well-” Nali jumped to defend herself then hesitated, “Your parents will be waiting to see you. They’ve been talking about today for months.” She turned towards the village, and he snatched up his horse’s rope reins, following her down the dirt path.
“I see. And that reminds me—why are you out here?”
She shrugged her shoulders, shifting the ragged dress, nonchalantly commenting on how nice a day it was. She knew he had to be thinking back to a year ago when she had refused to come forward from the crowd waving him off. He had opened his arms to her, inviting her to join him and his family, but she had hung back, wary, letting him leave on the mountain trip that, if he survived, would earn him the respected title of Traveler.
“Uh-huh. So you came to see the sunrise, not your old friend?”
“Old friend? Ha. Old nemesis is more like it.”
“You’re not still holding that grudge after all this time, are you?”
When they were ten, she had still joined in the ball games in the village. While many of the boys muttered, Gadra had walked up to her and demanded to know why she wasn’t indoors with the other girls. She’d crossed her arms and informed him that she wanted to play too, not do chores. They’d argued for a few minutes, but, when she kicked the ball two hut lengths, the boys had all shut up and played. The arguments would always start again the next game. “It hasn’t been that long.”
“A year is pretty long.”
“Not long enough to wipe my memory,” she rejoined, keeping her chin lifted as she marched forward. She paused only when he teased her back that, if they couldn’t get along, then perhaps he’d have to give away her present. She turned her head to check the seriousness of his face. “You got me a present?”
“I missed your birthday.”
“You never got me a present before.”
“But I’d tell you happy birthday.” Gadra reasoned. “I wasn’t here to say happy birthday.”
“Well then say it now and you’re good.”
He frowned slightly, “But—”
“Please.”
Now Gadra stopped and bore his eyes into her, trying to tunnel inside to her brain, to her heart. “Is everything alright, Nali?”
“Yes,” she smiled, muscles twitching with the effort, “Won’t you say it?”
“You don’t want a present?”
Something he didn’t quite catch changed in her expression. “Your family’s waiting.”
They were now approaching the village, a medium-sized gathering of thatched huts. They walked on either side of the horse towards the second hut on the edge. The buffalo skin hanging over the front opening flopped aside as a woman with hair just starting to gray sprang forth. She ran forward and wrapped Gadra in her arms.
“My baby, how are you? My, aren’t you thin! We’re going to have to ripen you right up—no worries; I’ve told them to make your favorite tonight: rabbit, corn, and green beans!”
“It’s good to see you again, Ma,” Gadra chuckled, kissing her cheek. He glanced back to toss a comment Nali’s way, but she had stepped back into the shadow of a neighbor’s hut and had now turned to go. “Hey! Nali, where are you going?”
“I have to get home,” she answered quietly at the same time that Gadra’s mother frowned and declared, “She’s not welcome here.”
Gadra turned back to his mother in shock. “It’s Nali, Ma. What’s the matter with you?”
Nali had spent many an afternoon in and around his family’s hut over their preteen years as the two bickered over one philosophy or another. Gadra hadn’t been a philosopher before Nali, but one couldn’t stand by her constant critiquing mouth without eventually coming up with some conclusions of one’s own. He turned to apologize for his mother, but Nali was already gone.
His mother gestured at the door. “Go and talk with your father.”
That night, Nali observed the festivities from the outskirts. It hadn’t been that long ago when she too had danced around the fire, feasting and celebrating in the name of the latest individual to successfully be named a Traveler. To think she might have been able to dance again with Gadra tonight if not for… Nali turned her attention to the babe crawling about by her side. As the tiny hands slipped a leaf in between the rosy lips, she scooped up her child and retrieved the leaf, offering a finger in exchange. With the little one sucking her finger, she watched the fire’s light glow on the tribe.
Her mother had been furious to hear Nali hadn’t immediately told Gadra everything. Having known that the possibility of a forced marriage was the only reason her mother had agreed to watch the child, Nali had purposely not informed her that she had no intention of marrying Gadra. She had needed to see Gadra once more as just herself. Now that was complete and she knew she could set aside that other part of herself, that stubborn, self-assured girl with too many ideas of her own.
Meanwhile, Gadra grinned. To think that this was for him! He had just finished dancing with all the young girls. Or almost all of the young girls. Though his eyes scanned every crevice of the celebration, he could not spot Nali. Where could she be? No one ever skipped the celebration; even those most ill managed to get out of bed or have their beds brought where they could see. Nali should be right in the middle of everything – she was in perfect health! Yet his mother had acted so rudely earlier. And she was never rude to anyone. A year was a long time, but what really could’ve changed?
“Gadra, come dance,” his aunt beckoned, and he rose to her call.
A few days later, Gadra entered the disheveled hut at the back of the village, peeking in and smirking at the sight of the girl sitting on the mat within the main room. His face split in a grin at having finally tracked her down, and he stepped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dark after the afternoon sun.
“Aw, who’s this?” Gadra smiled, seeing the little boy on Nali’s lap. “He’s little, isn’t he?”
Nali’s eyes widened, her words stammering over themselves while Gadra settled in beside them, speaking of his struggle to find her and everyone harboring some kind of secret. Nali breathed in deep to steady her voice. “It’s no secret.”
Gadra snorted, offering his pinky to the baby at Nali’s side. “If there’s no secret then why’s everyone acting so strange?”
“They’re not. They’ve been acting that way for nearly a year now.” He had missed when her family turned her out a couple of months after he left when the village forced her to move to this hut with its old thatching that she had yet to update because she had no husband to help her. She was lucky the village had agreed to keep her on and let her eat from the leftovers of the communal meals. No one had come to help her in the childbirth though.
Gadra sat quietly. He knew there was something more, but he couldn’t quite spear exactly what. When the baby boy put Gadra’s finger in his mouth, soaking it in spittle, Gadra asked, “What did you say his name was?”
“I didn’t.” The silence pulsed two heartbeats before she added, “It’s Baku.”
Gadra nodded, pulling his finger free from Baku’s lips. “He must’ve been born after I left if he’s so small.”
“Yeah.” She looked down, running her fingers over Baku’s thin, black locks.
“Whose is he?” Gadra asked, and Nali swallowed, forcing air through her lips to answer.
“Mine.”
The silence pulsed several beats this time, slow and steady. “What?”
“You heard me.” She said without looking up, but, when Gadra frowned at her, insisting that he hadn’t, she sighed. “He’s mine. I had him. I birthed him.”
When he stumbled over his question, she resigned herself to it, filling in both the question and answer for him.
“Am I married? No.”
“Oh.”
She laughed. “That’s a much nicer response than I usually get.”
Gadra didn’t laugh with her. Instead, he leaned forward, in front of the child, trying to catch her eye. “Nali, when was he born?”
Nali refused to look up from where the babe was pulling himself up on Gadra’s knee, running his hand along the cloth. “About five months after you left.”
“Nali! You knew. Before I left, you knew.”
She tried to evade, but his arm reached around Baku to grasp her wrist, so she allowed, “I may have suspected before, yes.”
He sat beside her, shaking his head until he found words. “Why didn’t you say something? I would’ve stayed-”
“And you would’ve been miserable.” When they’d hit their teens, their conversations had turned from debates to discussions, and, at sixteen, they often sat up late in the cornfield under the stars speaking of the futures they foresaw for themselves and the village. He had spoken on and on about the traveler sojourn he planned to take when he hit seventeen.
Boys had the choice of several paths to achieve manhood—warrior, hunter, or traveler. Any who couldn’t serve as even a mere Hunter would be forced to continue as Gatherers with the women and would never be able to marry within the tribe. Gadra was never concerned with that prospect though, determined since he was ten to achieve the most rigorous of paths. He wanted to be one of the few to know the outer area well enough to become a guide in case of disaster. At sixteen, he rarely stopped talking about his plans outside the village.
“Maybe at first,” he admitted with chagrin, before defending his honor. “But I would’ve adjusted!”
She snorted. “Gadra adjust. That’ll be the day.”
“Oh yes, make fun, Nali. What am I now? A coward?”
“What? After your adventures and-”
“I expect the whole village knows,” he groaned.
“Yes,” she snapped. “Yes, the whole village knows. They all know about how I got myself pregnant with one of the boys from that traveling tribe. Yes, Gadra, the entire tribe knows the whole story.”
“But—” His eyebrows furrowed as he stared across at her. In her anger, she’d finally lifted her eyes to his and he could see the pain behind those black irises.
“Do you think I’m that terrible?”
“No!” He responded to her anguish first, then remembered her question. “No, Nali, I only meant… I would’ve married you.”
“Sure, and thrown away your reputation, your dreams, your life, for our one mistake. I could hardly let you do that. Besides, I would never want to be married out of necessity. You may not believe it, Gadra, but I do have some standards.” She bent down, scooping up Baku. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to put Baku down for his nap.”
“Wait, Nali,” he grabbed her arm, jostling her, and Baku began to cry.
“What?” She tossed him a look of exasperation, then smiled to see his uneasy stare at the baby. “Scary, isn’t it? But don’t worry, I’m not asking for your help.”
She rocked Baku and he began to settle as his father searched for the best offer.
Nali shook her head before he could find them. “Gadra, it’s all settled now. Don’t stir the pot.”
“He’s my son,” Gadra pleaded.
“No,” she looked up firmly. “He’s mine and an anonymous father’s. Leave it that way.”
She walked away without looking back, leaving Gadra to find his way back to the village.
She hadn’t known if he would listen, but nearly a week had passed with no visits. Forcing a smile, she lifted Baku from the bed mat, tickled him until he smiled, then released him to explore the scattered toys in the room. He quickly bypassed them all in favor of the far more enticing fiery logs in the middle of the main room. As she snatched him away, she heard the loud rap at the door, and she called for the holy man to enter. Naturally, he would come just as her child decided to explore the wonders of fire. She trapped Baku on one hip. The footsteps entered the room at the same time Baku released his scream of complaint.
“I DON’T THINK HE LIKES ME.” Gadra winced, voice raised to be heard over the child. He could barely hear Nali’s gasp in the cries smothering the room.
“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!” She groaned when he stepped further into the room, and she shut her eyes momentarily, dreaming of the sea.
“I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAY, NALI! I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR. I PLAN TO MAKE UP FOR LOST TIME.”
“IT’S CALLED LOST TIME FOR A REASON.”
Gadra put a hand on his temple. “Can’t you make him quiet?”
“Here.” She plopped the child in his arms. “Don’t let him near the fire.”
Nali walked out of the room, coming back a moment later with a cloth of buffalo skin. Gadra obeyed quickly at her request, easily handing off the still-screaming child, who seemed to have vocal cords of rubber—infinitely stretchable. Yet, when she ordered him to leave, he stood his ground, yelling back until suddenly the air lost all sound. He blinked as Nali sighed, moving to sit on the mat near the fire. Seeing Baku’s eyes blazing, she gently turned his face back under the cloth to drink from her breast. He stood before them, looking down at the two until she rolled her eyes, muttering about it not being anything he hadn’t seen before. His eyes slipped askance.
They had followed the village’s rules of abstinence before marriage. Until the one evening they had sat hidden in the corn fields—there, under the first starlight, he’d admitted his fear of the upcoming trip he’d idolized so long. Only Nali would’ve answered with that image of the sea he might see over the mountain range, and so he had hugged her tight. Something in their first close contact had led to a kiss that grew stronger and stronger.
He shifted his stance. “Nali, you can’t just exclude me from his life. Baku deserves a father.”
“And his father deserves a life,” she countered.
“And what about his mother? What does she deserve?”
Nali frowned, thinking about the sneers and scoffs that were finally fading away to a haughty silence when she passed. She straightened her back. “His mother has lived without you a year and can make it many more. It would never have lasted long between us anyway, Gadra. There’s no point in forcing it to now.” She had realized after the second month of not bleeding that their one-night adventure would never translate to a long marriage, not with his desire to travel beyond the village, not with her stubbornness.
Gadra’s mouth had fallen open, his anger and shock combining to steal his words, so the rap on the door rang even louder through the open room. Nali’s cheeks paled as she pleaded in a whisper for him to slip out without arguing before she let the holy man in. Gadra couldn’t help smiling when her little body sunk with a groan at his reminder that his horse was out front.
The holy man stood in the doorway, greeting her with a knowing smile. “Nali Hinkas, there is a man in your home!”
“Yes, Healer,” she bowed her head. “I believe you know Gadra Inkles. He’s been gone for a year. Please excuse his ignorance today. I was just explaining the rules.”
He entered the hut, frowning sharply at Gadra. “Very well, as long as it does not happen again.”
Nali nodded quickly, but Gadra interrupted, stepping forward. “Wait. I can’t ever visit?”
“No, Traveler Inkles, not in the home the village has so graciously provided to me.” Nali glanced his way and then pointed with her eyes towards the door.
Gadra’s feet stayed planted on her rug. “Why not?”
“Traveler Inkles, please—”
“She is a heathen, not to be trusted,” the holy man explained, eyes on Baku at Nali’s breast, but Gadra laughed.
“It’s not like she’s about to make that mistake again!”
Nali fought back a smile. “Traveler Inkles, I thank you for thinking to come by, but I do have an appointment to keep.”
Gadra hesitated, but he could sense a losing battle as Nali purposefully turned, offering the holy man drink and food, which he accepted on a stone cup and plate. From outside the hut, Gadra watched as Nali stood holding her child; the holy man fattened himself upon the only mat, occasionally pausing to throw in critique summarized in a snarky saying. Her lessons, the holy man called them. Gadra couldn’t move for disbelief until Nali started to sag beneath the growing weight of her child. Within the next moment, he had the child in one arm and Nali over his shoulder, ignoring her cries of alarm and the holy man’s protests. He carried her through the main room to the other side of a half wall that hid her bed mats. Dropping her onto them, he gently laid the baby boy down beside her.
“Gadra, I told you to leave!”
“Your memory must need some refreshing. I’ve never done what you say.”
“Boy.” The holy man entered the private area, panting. “I know your parents and I will be sure to tell them-”
“Good, go tell them.” Gadra waved his hand. “Go on, right now. And when you’re done, tell them how you prefer to sit and let a woman stand.”
“Gadra, please,” Nali pleaded, but he was done conceding to her.
“Enough already! If I hear one more ‘please’ out of you, Nali, I swear I’ll, I’ll, well, it won’t be pleasant, that’s for sure!” He rounded on the holy man, “What are you still doing here? I thought you were going to my parents?”
Nali glared at Gadra as the holy man scurried around the wall, his thick coat bouncing behind him. “If you keep yelling, you’ll have Baku screeching again in no time.”
“Fine, but then let’s get a couple of things straight – no more pleases. And don’t you ever call me Traveler Inkles again.” He visibly shuddered on the last note.
She waited for a moment before asking in a stiff, polite tone. “Is that all?”
“No,” he scowled. “That holy man is never allowed back here.”
She crossed her arms. “You do that, and I have no home.”
“You can live with me.”
She rubbed Baku’s belly, reminding Gadra that he lived with his parents and dismissing his childish impulses. “I have a child to think of now, Gadra.”
“As do I.”
“But you’re not thinking of him.” Not as she had for the past year, putting her pride and plans aside to meet the needs of their little boy whose dark hair looked just like the long locks of his father. She had kept him swaddled tight to cover the giveaway whenever she went out.
Gadra hesitated, providing a circular logic that, so long as he thought of her and she thought of the child, then it all worked out. Nali shook her head though, insisting that they were best off where they were. His eyes moved about the tiny dusty space with the thinning mats. “I disagree. Is every meeting with the holy man like that?”
She avoided his furious gaze, lifting Baku and rocking him in her arms. “He keeps a roof over our head.”
“I remember the days when you would yell at a storyteller who missed a line you liked, or at your parents for the mere suggestion of arranging a marriage for you.”
Nali blinked back at Baku as she rocked him, thinking of her father who refused to speak of her, let alone with her. An only daughter had been a bad enough curse on him. The horror of a daughter pregnant out of wedlock had ruined him. Her words came out soft, a reflection of the eyes starting to close in her arms. “What do you want me to say, Gadra? I’m sorry I’m not the child you left behind?”
Gadra studied her a moment then sunk onto the mat beside her. “I never gave you your gift. I chose it especially for you.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “I can’t go with you to get it though. Your parents suspect the truth, Gadra. They’re probably afraid I’m going to ruin their son’s life. If only they knew it was the other way around.”
His eyes searched hers. “I’ve already ruined your life, Nali. Now let me fix it.”
“It doesn’t need fixing,” she murmured, but Gadra was pulling forth from his pocket a long necklace of strung seashells. They entirely covered the string except for one tiny portion where two knots held the shells at bay. Nali took it in her hands in awe.
“You were right, by the way.” He leaned forward, watching her face. “The sea is very beautiful.”
“I knew it,” she whispered as he lifted the necklace over her head. Her fingers trailed over the shells, caressing their hard exteriors. With a slight smile, Gadra reached over and turned the necklace until the gaping string lay in front.
“There. And it’ll look much nicer soon enough—I left that space for you to choose the best shell.” He shook his head when she asked to see her choices. “You have as many as are on the beach. That there is my promise to take you to the sea.”
“But—” Her lips parted, but he rested his finger on them.
“You and me, and Baku, we’ll take a week’s journey. I found a path that shouldn’t be too difficult. It’s a sight that everyone should see before they die.”
Her eyes glistened. “You mean it, Gadra?”
“I do. I think it’d make for a very nice spot to celebrate our marriage.” He tried to take her hand in his, but she slipped it away.
“Oh Gadra, don’t.”
“I couldn’t stop thinking of you the whole year.” He cupped his hand on Baku’s forehead. “And I’m ready for this little blessing too.”
“Curse,” she corrected, voice cracking, but Gadra’s dark brown eyes were piercing straight through hers to her heart as he shook his head in disagreement. “Your parents,” she tried instead.
“I told them my intentions the first night of my return. Not that their opinions matter. The only answer I need is yours. Please, say yes, Nali. I love you.”
Her throat was clogged too tight to speak, but Nali lifted her hand, resting it on top of his on Baku’s head. She looked back at Gadra as she interlocked her fingers with his.
Though Robyn Bashaw has graduated with a BFA in Creative Writing in the USA and published a piddling of stories, her greatest accomplishment to date is training her ball python to distinguish the fast taps of play-time and the slow taps of food-time. Check out her full list of work at: https://robynbashaw.wordpress.com/.