Merritt
© 1992 Lorne Laliberte
"Nothing returns but what is given. Nothing is truly given unless it causes pain."
Merritt closed the book around his fingers, and laid his head back against the wall. The soft husk of the sapha wood was damp and cold; he thought of closing the window to keep out the rain. No, he needed the green smell of the forest, blowing into the shack in gusts that battled his candle's tiny flame. He needed something from outside to remind him he was not alone in this strange world, that the wind and the rain were the same here as anywhere. To remind him that there was life, that living things could thrive, even with Ariel so near.
She is only human, he thought in her defense. More human than anyone else on the base, besides himself. It was this link to her that frightened him -- all that he saw in Ariel, all that he hated so much about her, must as surely exist within himself. That he did not see it in himself meant nothing; Ariel was a reflection of his potential, and he did not know how to live with that part of being human in him, somewhere.
It would be good to be alone for a few days. He looked at Ariel's bags, stacked neatly beside the crude wooden door. How many days leave would he waste before he managed to stop thinking about her?
He lifted the book, and opened it from around his fingers. "Pain is holy, but only when it is your own."
The door swung open, wildly, on the single hinge that held it to the wall. The wind seemed to leap from the window above Merritt, spraying the small table and bed beside him with rain.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ariel demanded, pausing only to force the door back into place before slamming down the plastishield window. She stood above Merritt with rage in her eyes, and he knew instantly that she wasn't going to leave.
"Didn't they give you your leave?" he said, keeping his eyes on the book's white pages.
"Yes, they gave me all the seven days. But I took them back."
Merritt looked away from the book, and matched Ariel's icy stare. "You what?"
"I took them back. They wouldn't give me transport off the base. Not even a damn jumpship ride." She waved her hand angrily at the insects flapping around the ceiling. "Why was the window open, Trezzel? Does it take that much fucking intelligence?"
"Ariel," he said, slowly, levelly. It was all he dared say to her.
"Don't start with me Trezzel. I'll talk the way I fucking like." Her eyes lowered to the book, still held open in Merritt's stable grasp. "You're still reading the same book."
Did he have to read fast just because he could? "I'm taking time to enjoy it."
"What's to enjoy? The halfers aren't likely to teach us anything."