Continued from….

There will be a day when all of our souls are laid bare and we answer for the lives we live. There will be no secrets…

Char reaches for the crutch that was lying next to her on the rumpled bedding. The sound of clucking chickens and the oppressive heat contributed to the slow orientation to her surroundings.

She stares at the stump that used to be her right leg and watches it twitch and move on her mental command.

“Alright,” she thinks, “At least I can still move the stump.”

She prepares the rest of her body to rise and with some effort makes it to a standing position. The sickness that ravaged her body for two weeks left it weak and she wobbles slightly as she hops to the open door covered by mosquito netting.

Once there, she slowly navigates her way down the steps of the stilt house, a home that was a typical Thai board home, made of teak and bamboo, the house raised one story with open living space underneath. She gingerly hops down one step at a time.

She sees a fire with a pot of boiling water swinging on a spit above it. An old Thai woman wrinkled with age, was stooped over the flames, placing fresh vegetables into the boiling water.

“Good morning grandmother.”

Grandmother looked up and smiled and nodded. “Good,” she says in the local Thai dialect, “You made it down the steps.”

Char smiled back and touched the scars that pulled on her neck with that simple effort. There were so many cruel and daily reminders of the past. The only way she could escape was to take the smorgasbord of pills and close her eyes. Consciousness was too painful.  

But that too was in the past. It was here in this stilt house that she had peace, where memories of the moment that took her heart and her beloved and left her forever scarred and half a person.

The moment that took her sanity.

Her grandmother placed a cup of lukewarm herbal tea in her hand and closed her fingers over it. Char sipped it carefully, balanced on her crutch and her one good leg.

“Thank you, grandmother, “ she said.

——————————————————————————————

She takes Tom’s hand in hers and feels the rhythm of his body swaying back and forth, their eyes locked in love. She hears the distant clapping of the crowd, the music and his voice as he leans over her ear and whispers, “I love you Mrs. Tom Finley.”

He leads her around the dance floor, her legs following his lead.

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth Mr. Finley,” she whispers.

“Good,” he said, “Because that’s where we’re going.”