Woman

Walking into my home was exactly how I imagined. A thousand memories waited to rush me by the door into a blurred mist of happiness and tears, of anger and fears, of nightmares and dreams, of summer and please, please and please can I go with John and Father to hunt?

Arthur left my hand at the stairs as I wandered around and scanned the small wooden cottage. Every moment I stood inside my home I felt reconnected, like a tiny lightening bolt ran through me to the past. But everything is different. Mother and Father were not going to call me from downstairs, no matter how high I climbed, and the new green paint would always hide the calm white that Father had smoothed on the walls.

The time with Michael danced behind my eyes as John and I were too soon guided by Usman out of the house out of politeness to the family that owned it. That time. It flashed on my eyes like flames and dying lightening. Like everything that I had recalled from my home was slowly seared into oblivion with every moment I was in his house. Was marriage meant to be so consuming and tumultuous that my own memories of home faded?

Will I ever find peace?

Arthur's soft hold on my hand was my only guide back to the inn as I wandered through the present like a corpse so willing to enter the past. I am still unable to believe I left those memories in that home, that I cannot even visit freely. That all the past is in history without any further development. Like a frozen history of love and sweetness lost to the melting powers of the sun as spring arrives to tarnish all permanence. Like the very earth that held my parents alive for me was consumed so fiercely and without mercy by the heat of the changing seasons. Like there is nothing to hold onto.

Those who took from me; I can no longer even grab onto them for accountability as summer sears away that painfully mortifying spring time of my life.

"I give her two minutes before she floats to them fluffy clouds in the yonder," Stella, the owner of the inn's elder daughter, chimes.

"What?" I say glancing over my shoulder to see Sara, the younger daughter, speaking with John.

Stella stands closer to our table and points a skinny finger straight at my brother. She eyes my untouched sandwich and Usman feeding Arthur.

"Can't y'all see the way those two click?" She says. "I wonder what they're talking about. You said he was your brother, Sir? Now, if that's true, you two don't look a thing alike."

"Yes, John's my brother," I say.

Stella raises a fine brown brow at me. I stare back with a Michael-esque resistance to be made fun of.

Arthur giggles and pulls my sleeve. One pudgy hand is covering his snickers. I wrinkle my nose and lean in close to his face.

"Ma-ma! You said he-he that you're a boy! She-he-he called you Sir!"Arthur says half whispering as ever-watching Stella turns back to the far side of the dining hall.

"Did I? I suppose I did, silly mama," I squish my nose with Arthur's and he let's me pinch his cheeks.

Usman turns his eyes on mine and slides a bowl of soup towards me.

"So Mia, do you see a spark?" He asks and I begin to eat my sandwich.

"Time will tell. I don't think I could live here anymore, now that the house is so different," I say. "I really don't feel a connection."

Usman smiles distantly and turns his attention back to feeding Arthur.

Stella leans over the counter after wiping it clean and keeps observation over John as Sara brings him two servings of steaming rice.

"Mia, I was saying that those two look like they're really getting along. Wouldn't you say they'd make a nice couple?" Usman says.

"Oh, right. I wouldn't know that. It's possible," I glance at John, he's loving, but who would be his match?

"In my observation, it appears that John has been asking her a lot of questions."

"Uncle John was talking to the boss's daughter in breakfast too! I saw them," Arthur chimes and jumps in his seat.

"I suppose they could be...something. One day," I say.

"I think that we are all in a time of our lives that it's right to get married, don't you think Mia?" Usman says.

One marriage was all I've ever known. One hurricane, blizzard, raging animal stampede marriage is all I've come to remember.

"John deserves to be happy."

Even if he doesn't want to stay with me.

"That's what I am saying. Every one deserves to have a life partner, someone to share their happiness, trials, and goals with. It's part of life to get married, maybe separate, and then find someone new."

"Right," I nod with a glance back at John as he and Sara gather a few dishes and stumble awkwardly as they walk together.

"Myself, for example, I have never been married, but now is an ideal time." Usman says.

"Right, you're the right age, so why not?" I take a deep breath.

I suppose if John wants to get married, it's a choice he has to make. For me, it wasn't a choice. Joseph and Matilda are a happy couple that chose to be married. That ended well at least.

"And you, Mia, you deserve happiness too," Usman grins at me reassuringly.

"Right, we all deserve it."

"So, are you ready to get remarried?" He says and the thought floats over my head.

"I was," I gulp a lion's breath of air. "once."

Arthur begins edging off his seat as he watches us both. I raise an eye brow at him and he points eagerly at John walking out of the Inn with Sara standing my the entrance.

"Mama, please, please and please with cookies can I go with Uncle John? Mama? Mama, can I go? Mama?" Arthur jiggles my arm around.

"Okay, but if you don't catch him quick he will be out that door." I say and jog with Arthur to the exit.

"John, will you take Arthur with you? He's feeling cooped up." I say and John grabs Arthur's hand.

Arthur makes his signature "Yes" face and silently cheers.

"Sure, we'll be back soon. Uh, Sara's just showing me a place."

"Yes, I know a good place, it's nearby. We, John and I, wanted to find it out for y'all to go to after tomorrow." Sara says, with a slight crack in her voice.

"John, we have to somewhere tomorrow," I say.

"Don't worry Mia, I promise it'll be right after, okay now bye!" John throws Arthur into the air and takes off into the street with a light jog.

Sara scurries after them with her long skirt flapping at her heels with the dust.

Usman begins to walk in the opposite direction. I follow with heavy strides.

"Sometimes in life, you'll feel you have no direction. I had a friend named Zayn, he was always on the same course of action. He always wanted to fight with the world. Simply forcing life to suit himself. He tried to make combat his life and only become the perfect solider. But he couldn't stay on that one direction. After five long years of assignments and hardwork, Zayn gave up."

"Did he ever find his way?" I say, suddenly feeling my burden muddled with this solider.

Usman smiles and the light hits his eyes as he turns to me.

"He did," He laughs. "He went back home and found a wife, a calling to the art of metal molding in a black smith shop. He even had two little ones when I last visited him."

"Must all life stories end with a marriage? I don't mean to be rude, but is that the only way to be happy?" I say with the battle raging on of my past wanting to take over my mind and the present somehow exhausting walk.

"Personally I would love to be married, my father always says that is when life begins. I think you should get married because you're first experience didn't help start your life."

We have circled the entire block around the Inn. I lean against it and watch Usman's retreating figure.

"Why not?" I grunt. "Why doesn't that count?"

Usman turns back and takes strides toward me. I see the reflection of my frustration in his eyes. All consuming and unsettling to see in his bright intelligent eyes. This is a man of discipline, I realize now as I stare into his eyes, anger is something he holds steady like a sword. Unsheathed when required, and mastered with skill.

"It doesn't count," He states.

I feel the finality in those words. The completion of the moment. The settling of the dust after the stampede. I can't hold myself to such an empty answer.

"Why?" I say and push his shoulders back. "Why hasn't my life started! Why did he marry me then? Why did I have to suffer? Tell me! Tell me; why doesn't it count?"

Usman stumbles back a few steps and slowly walks upto the wall. He places a hand on the wall to either side of my shoulders and furrows his brows.

I huff and puff. His long curls almost touch my head as he towers over me.

"You never said yes," He states, with his steady face one fraction of an inch in front of mine.

He breathes out. I smell a refreshing scent of mint. He pushes himself off the wall and slips inside the Inn. The warm smell of natural herbs vanishes with him.

I have to say yes.