THE BAMBOO GROVE

This short story was first published in the short story collection THE KINDLED FOOTPATH in 2016.

It looked out of place, as if it did not belong where you found it. The bamboo grove shimmered in blue and green in the early morning sun. There was something haunting about it, something inexplicably beautiful. That was why she kept coming back to it.

It had rained the night before and there were drops of water on the leaves. The bamboo had that distinctive smell to it, but that was not what she loved the most about it. It was that there were numerous stalks, growing in all directions, but there was never a clear path leading through them. Every time you came back, you took a different route through the bamboo grove, brushing over the stalks with your hand, going left, then right, maybe headed east for a while, until you felt like going north, or south.

Whenever she went into the bamboo grove, her mind disconnected from the real world, it started dreaming up stories, wondering what the world somewhere else was like. Maybe in some place, where you would expect bamboo, but not here, somewhere in between the no-man’s land, a mall some two miles to the northeast.

What was it like to live in Indonesia? She knew next to nothing about that. Concerning Africa she thought she knew more, but was that true? Or was she merely overestimating her knowledge? What language would people in Cameroon speak? French, yes, but everywhere? Or did they speak any African languages? And has it not been German territory at a time? She wondered whether there would be Cameroonians speaking some kind of German if you just cared to find them.

She believed she knew a thing or two about Japan, where they knew how to build machines and cars that put most in the world to shame. Images came to her, showing that cyberpunk Japan that everybody had in mind if asked about it, only that she had seen that there was a major difference between Japanese cities and Japanese towns, as compared to villages on the countryside. The countryside she imagined to be beautiful. Rice fields, people working them as if the Meji Restoration had never happened, as if the Western world had never reached Japan.

It was contrasts that made life interesting. Japan she thought must have got contrast in abundance. Said rice field, people bowing down to plant fresh crops, only a hundred yards away a train line on stilts in the water, a high-speed train zipping by, taking people wearing suits, using telephones and computers from Tokyo to Kyoto. In the background, you could see a mountain, not the Fuji, but one of the other mountains, of those they had numerous in Japan, it being mostly uplands.

She imagined to be there, at the foot of the mountain, climbing it, until she reached just another bamboo grove. This one was different, it was not shimmering green and blue, but in an interesting brown. A path had been set out through it, but it was not in a straight line, not even following the topography. It seemed like the path followed a concept all its own, incomprehensible for anyone who walked along it, but that this fact created the peculiar experience.

Chirping birds she had never seen before, some distant sound she could not identify. As if the bamboo grove had taken her in, to shield her from the world, creating her own. She was at ease with herself, was there, at the nameless mountain in Japan, asking herself whether the forty-seven ronin had ever seen this. Had they been here, plotting on how to kill the Shogun, after he had had their leader executed? Had they worked out, using their katana on the bamboo stalks in practice, cutting them, so that they would glide down to the ground? Had they been wandering through the bamboo grove like she was walking through it at the moment, finding ease? She did not think so. Their rage and loyalty had reportedly been strong enough, so that they threatened to lose their own lives while assassinating the Shogun.

She could not remember how the story had ended. She had watched this documentary in the middle of the night, when she had been disturbed, so she had not watched it until the end, but that was not important at the moment. When it felt right, she just sat down between the bamboo stalks, she looked up at the skies. It was one of those strange days, when it looked like sunshine one moment and rain the next.

Just what I need, she thought. A day that can’t decide. She felt like that day was like herself, like she was when she was not in between the bamboo, where she could imagine whatever she liked, could be whatever she liked, from a Japanese queen to a famous anthropologist to just a recluse, living in the mountains, not maintaining any contact with the world beneath her feet, not feeling the need to do so. When she was at the bamboo grove, she was free.

Eyes closed, stretched out on the ground, she stopped thinking and took in the impressions. Even through her eyes were shut she could see the green and blue shimmering every time the clouds were blown away by the wind, the sun shining down on her again.

Thoughts vanished, they ceased to exist. The scent, that was last to leave. She had it in her nostrils, smelling it, like nothing she knew, not like the pollution of the suburb, not like exotic dishes people cooked that smelled strange to her, not even as mellow as the scent of freshly mown grass, that you could smell so often when you walked through the wealthier sections of the suburb.

When the scent was gone, nothing was left but the shimmer of the bamboo. She could not tell for how long she just lay there, not thinking, not pondering, not worrying about anything, for how long she had not been in this world but in a different world, that existed only for herself, not for others.

The problem with the bamboo grove was that, no matter how long you stayed, how often you dreamed yourself away, you would have to get back to where you came from. For Natalie, time was ripe now.

She was in no hurry, enjoyed every moment she could spend out there. She saw a blue jay landing on the ground, in search of something to eat, and watched it for a while. The farther she walked back through the bamboo, the more she was reminded of what she had left behind. If you listened closely, you could hear the sound of cars and trucks on the freeway. You could hear the sounds of the real world, your heartbeat went up and the blue and green shimmer was not that effective anymore. Gradually, you left the world you liked so much and entered what you could not endure most of the time.

The problem with the bamboo was that you had to be in deep because it lacked thick leaves, so that you would not see the houses and streets behind yourself. As soon as Natalie spotted the first houses, she felt sad. The walk had recuperated her, but now she felt that it was only six in the morning, that she had slept for not much more than four hours, and that she would pay for that throughout the day.

She passed the last stalks of bamboo, she brushed over their surface, that felt strangely unfamiliar, yet pleasant. Then she was back in the real world, the bamboo grove nothing but a fainting memory. Soon, the cats would stray through it, and when school was out, some kids would rush through it, not able to enjoy it, not like she always did. The only reason why they went there at all was because it was a shortcut on their way back home from school.

Mrs. Harper waved at her when she approached her house. Natalie waved back, she smiled, she faked everything, because she had learned to abide by social standards and rules. Would she look the other way, pretend that she had not seen Mrs. Harper, there would be stories and rumors, all kinds of stories that would come back to her through the grapevine, and she did not need all that trouble because of nothing. It was a lot more convenient to think of something funny and wave.

She walked around the bend, that was artificial because some architect had figured they would need it, so that nobody could think this housing complex had been planned at a drawing table. Natalie had never figured that out, because everybody could see that the bricks at the doors were nothing but foam that had been painted. Not a single brick had been used to build these houses, they all consisted of plywood and that was all. Somehow, people needed to deceive themselves, for better or for worse.

She herself had no intention to deceive herself anymore. Not that day. Maybe tomorrow, if it did not rain, or only mildly. She would go back to the bamboo grove, hope that it was like she had left it, but that was not important now.

When she unlocked the door, she heard Francis cry and knew she was looking at trouble. She had hoped to be back before Carey woke up, as he was mad in the morning by nature, and even more so when breakfast and coffee was not ready. Now that Francis was crying, he would be berserk. She knew it. He would sit at the kitchen table, nothing in front of himself, mad expression on his face. When she entered the kitchen, she saw just that.

‘Morning, honey,’ she said not looking at him, turning to the plates immediately.

‘Where have you been?’ Francis asked. Now, he pretended to be calm, he always did, but it never lasted. And he was a bad actor. As if she had not lived through this just about a thousand times before.

‘I was out for a walk. Couldn’t sleep.’

She jammed some toast into the toaster and remembered to set it up properly. Carey hated burnt toast. If there was any spot on the toast darker than caramel, he would throw it at the wall in anger. If you were lucky, he would only hurl the toast, without the plate.

‘You were out for a walk? At five in the morning?’

‘It wasn’t five,’ she said putting the plate in front of him, walking over to get coffee she had brewed before leaving the house. ‘I think it was five-thirty.’

‘And you think it’s better if you leave the house at five-thirty?’

‘I was just away for a brief walk. To catch some fresh air.’

He got up and hurled the plate at the wall. Rage was in his eyes. He’s never been like that before we got married, Natalie thought as she tried not to look at him.

‘The boy’s been screaming like wild! I couldn’t even sleep!’

‘I know. Here, drink your coffee. I’ll go and look after him.’

She put the cup in front of him and darted out of the room. She knew that Carey was not done yet, but what could she do? She climbed the stairs up to the first floor and went into Francis’s room. The boy was still crying, so she checked whether he was running a fever. He seemed alright, so she picked him up and held him close. The doctors had not found out anything, and Natalie suspected it was nothing but attention the boy lacked. Carey was never spending any time with him. He refused to take care of the boy when he was screaming. As if he was not his own son at all.

‘You’re not tired anymore, Francis?’ she asked him when he stopped crying.

After a while, the boy fell asleep on her shoulder, so she gently put him back in his bed, dreading to go downstairs again and find out what Carey had in store for her this time. She pretended to make breakfast for herself, not looking at him, but she could feel him, could feel his glances on her back. Only a couple of years ago, they had felt good. Now, she started shivering every time she felt it.

‘He finally fell asleep?’ Carey asked.

‘Yes. He wanted some attention, that was all.’

‘Why weren’t you here to give it to him?’

‘I thought he would sleep all through the morning, sorry.’

She heard the chair on the tiles. She knew what was coming. His steps, heavy and clumsy. He had gotten fat ever since they were married. Something about him had changed, or Natalie had not been able to see it before. In the end, it would not make a difference. In the end, she was scared as hell of him. Now, she could feel him, as he pressed close to her while she was not looking at him. There was no point in denying that it felt good to be held close, to be desired. It almost deceived her, tricked her into believing that this time, nothing would happen, that Carey would love her like he had promised to. It was a vain hope. She knew.

‘You’re looking good, you know that?’ he breathed into her ear.

‘No, I didn’t know until you picked me up, took me away from where I came from.’

‘That trailer park, it wasn’t for a girl like you. Not at all. Just look at your hands,’ he said taking her left hand, massaging it gently. ‘You’ve got the hands of a queen.’

He kissed her hand. Her heart started pounding. Sense and sensitiveness were disconnected in moments like this. She closed her eyes. She enjoyed it. Carey turned her around, he kissed her like he did that first night when they had met, when he had come to town, seeing her at the diner, tired from working double-shifts for the second consecutive week, after she had believed her boss again that it would only be for one night. Carey had come in, expensive Italian suit on, that smile on his face. He had ordered coffee, first, then a sandwich, then a milkshake, just to make Natalie come back to his table. Finally, after munching on everything for an hour, had he pulled himself together and asked her out. The rest, as they say, was history. He was so gentle, a gentleman overall. He had mesmerized her, so that after knowing him for not more than a couple of hours, she had left everything behind. Her father, who was an alcoholic, but who had never touched her, had never yelled at her, who had his demons but a good heart. She had never hated him, she had only been sick of the sight of him when he was coming back to the trailer park, when he was sitting in the recliner with the many holes and stains on it, his oily work clothes still on, six to seven cans of beer on the floor, the last one in his hand, half of the content poured on the sticky carpet after he fell asleep. Sometimes, she thought of him, thought what had become of him, but Carey would not let her call him, or god forbid, drive out there, all the fifteen miles, to visit her old man.

‘You’ve said that before,’ Natalie replied after a moment she had spent in her thoughts. ‘You’ve often compared me to a queen in the past.’

He pulled her close, he kissed her again, the world stopped turning for a moment. The moment expanded, it felt longer and longer, as if nothing had ever been between them, as if this life was perfect, just the way it was.

He let go of her, he pushed her away, and there it was. The first backhand of the day. A forceful one this time, almost knocking Natalie off her feet. Carey pulled her up and punched her in the stomach. Natalie could not breathe. She sank down to the floor, her lip started bleeding. She could taste the blood. It tasted as always. It tasted like a bad mistake.

‘Are you happy now?’ Carey asked her. ‘You forced me into this again. You think I enjoy this, beating you up all the time?’

‘No, of course not,’ she lied swallowing the blood. She knew, would a single drop of it land on the white tiles, he would make her scrub them until her fingers bled as well.

‘Why do you keep doing this to me, Natalie?’ Carey asked sliding down to the ground, his back against the kitchen cabinet. ‘You can’t believe how much I hate doing this.’

‘I know how much you hate this. I know you suffer more than me, Carey.’

‘No, you don’t. You’re a little liar,’ he said smiling, ‘but I love you, so I can live with that. If you tell me the truth now.’

‘I’m always telling you the truth.’

‘Here we go again. I want you to listen to me and only respond if asked. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, Carey.’

‘Good. When you claim to go for a walk in the early morning, do you really do that?’

‘Yes. What else should I be doing?’

‘Remember what I said, honey.’ he said with that glow of anger in his eyes again.

‘Sorry, Carey.’

‘Good girl. So, you go for walks, is that correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘You walk around the quarter?’

‘Yes.’

‘Always the same route?’

‘No, not always,’ she lied already trying to conceal the bamboo grove from him.

‘So, there’s deviation to your walking habits.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re sure you’re just walking? You’re not going to, say, Mitch’s house down the street?’

‘What should I be doing at Mitch’s house?’ she asked as if she really had no idea.

‘You know damn good what I mean, you whore!’ he burst out.

‘I’m not doing anything other than walking and I’ve never been to Mitch’s house!’ Natalie screamed because she was sick of this, she could not endure it any further. She was done with this she thought, until she could not feel any strength inside her body. The yelling had woken up Francis, but Carey pretended as if he had not heard.

‘You want me to get over there and show Mitch what I’m capable of?’

‘No!’

‘Why not? He’s taken something from me, so I’m taking something from him. Isn’t that justice? Purest justice?’

‘Mitch has nothing to do with anything.’

‘We’ll see,’ he said getting up.

Natalie knew Mitch, even though they never did anything but talk about the weather and how big Francis had become, next to Mitch’s neatly maintained lawn. It was nothing serious, nothing that justified anything. Natalie also knew that Mitch was stronger than Carey, a man who had his own gym inside his garage, equipment he welded himself and worked out with all the time. Because of that, she knew that Carey would not try anything against Mitch, and he did not have a gun. All he wanted was to make her implore that he stayed with her, so that she could swear to him there was nobody else in her life other than him. She considered this. She considered making Carey humiliate himself by going to the door, out to the yard, but then having to come back because he did not have the guts to oppose a man bigger than himself. She believed he would not even have the guts to oppose a man his size. Then she remembered how he could be when he was really upset, not just a bit, like that morning.

‘Carey, come back,’ she yelled sitting up leaning against the oven.

‘You want me to stay?’ Carey asked when he was back.

‘Yes, stay with me.’

He went over to her, he pulled her up, held her close, embraced her, stroked her hair – and it felt good again so suddenly. Natalie hated herself for that. Not having the courage to stand her ground, to leave him if she had to, that was one thing. But being so defenseless against his affection, that was killing her.

‘I’m staying with you, honey,’ Carey whispered into her ear. ‘I remember the day, when I came to that little dump where you’re from, from where I rescued you. You were like a flower growing out of that, and I took the best with me. I want you to remember that.’

‘Yes, I remember. Don’t let me go.’

‘No, I won’t let you go. I’ll stay with you for good.’

‘I love you, Carey.’

‘I know.’

He let go of her. He slapped her in the face. Hard this time. The other cheek. Natalie stumbled, she almost fell. She put her hand on her cheek, feeling the blood coming from her nose and from her split lip. She could not look him into the eyes, but then she could not ask what that had been for as well.

‘That was to make you remember why you’re here,’ Carey said turning around. ‘I’ll dress for work. You clean up the kitchen.’

That was it. He vanished upstairs. Francis was still crying, but Natalie could not move. She waited until she heard the bathroom door, then she went upstairs to take a look at her child.

Carey was gone for work, Natalie had successfully avoided him, so she got dressed in her work clothes as well and took Francis with her. She did not have a car, not that Carey was not making enough money, granting himself a new SUV every year. She thought there was an intention to this. Without a car, she could not get anywhere farther away than three to four miles without him.

She carried Francis to the nursery eight blocks away, then she marched for another six blocks to get to the diner where she was working, glad that it was not raining, like it had looked like when she had been in the bamboo grove. She wore the outfit of a waitress she had thought she would never have to wear again, but after Francis had been born, Cary had insisted she earned her own money. She could have had a different job, but he insisted on her being a waitress as well.

‘Because I like how you look in that outfit,’ he always said. ‘That’s the girl I was falling for. That image, you in that shabby diner, that sold me.’

Carey could be so tender when he said things like that, when he told other people how they had met. Unfortunately, he could not always be like that. Natalie believed that was the reason why she was not allowed to keep any of the sparse money she made working at least nine hours every day.

‘Morning, Natalie,’ Noel, the owner said.

‘Hi, Noel. How’s Tracy?’

‘She’s fine. Leyla’s had puppies, so she’s staying home today.’

‘Oh, that’s lovely.’

‘Yes. We’ve got six dogs now. You want one? They’re cute?’

‘I’ve got to talk to Carey before I could decide that.’

‘Yeah, of course. Say, what happened to your cheeks?’

‘My cheeks? Ah, yes. I ran into a door.’

‘On both sides?’

‘Funny, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know. It looks like it hurts. I’ll get you some ice.’

‘That’s not necessary, thank you very much.’

‘But I insist. You sit down and cool them, I prepare the tables.’

Noel went and got two bags of ice for Natalie, then he prepared the tables himself, even though that was not his job. He was a very nice man. Natalie assumed that he had ideas concerning her relationship to Carey. This was not the first time she had come in with a swollen face in the past six months.

When the first customers came in for breakfast, Natalie put the ice away and started working. Noel sometimes looked at her from across the grill, as if there was something he wanted to talk about but did not say out loud.

She worked as if nothing had happened. That was her way to cope with Carey’s abusiveness. What else could she do? She was defenseless against him. On so many levels. That made it hard to look in the mirror sometimes. More and more in the past few weeks. When she was at the restrooms to wash her face, she could not look at herself. She knew what she would look like. She knew the bruises would turn to purple now, until nobody could ignore them anymore.

Ranulph was sitting at the counter, drinking coffee. He was roughly her age and came every day at noon before he went to work. He was working at a factory, despite him being a smart guy. He once told her that he had tried making money at an office.

‘But that was killing me,’ he had said. ‘It somehow feels wrong sitting all day, staring at a computer.’

‘I don’t know. I’ve never had that. Never had the chance to work like that.’

‘Yeah, don’t try it. Can’t recommend it.’

He had smiled at her, then forked up some of his scrambled eggs, that he was eating all the time, claiming only eggs could give you enough energy to get you over the day without having two or three breaks.

Natalie poured him another cup of coffee, already starting off when he talked to her.

‘Thanks, Natalie. Could you wait for a moment?’

‘Yes?’

‘Say, what about the face?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean. You’ve just been to the restrooms to cool it again. What happened?’

‘I ran into a door, that’s all. I’m clumsy.’

‘Yeah, I see. You’re running into doors quite often lately.’

‘That’s how I am. Nothing else.’

‘Yes, I understand.’

He smiled at her, then turned back to his eggs and coffee. Natalie had other customers to take care of and that was what she did. She checked her watch, dreading that it was getting late, approaching two pm, because that was the time. The time when Carey would drive by to check whether she was still there. He would not get out of the car, just pull to the parking lot and watch, watch, watch. Sometimes, he watched for half an hour, as if she could not identify his parked car outside. It was driving her insane. More than once she had considered running out there, pull the door open and scream at him, ask him what his problem was, why he would not trust her, if there was nothing better to do.

Of course she had never done that. She did not dare opposing him. And there, as if he was paid for doing it, the car, the massive, the new SUV, pulled into the parking lot. It stayed there, for about twenty-five minutes. Natalie felt his glances on her. All the time. It felt like insects crawling on her, that she wanted to brush of, to wash herself, but could not, could not get rid of it, had to live with it. Forever. She would have to live with that forever.

Noel saw the car. Again, it seemed like he wanted to do something. He had a good heart, but apparently not the heart of a fighter. He would never go out there and talk to Carey, tell him what he thought, threaten him with breaking his leg, his arm and whatever else hurt if he would not stop beating his wife.

Without getting out of the car once, Carey drove off again. Natalie relaxed. Not many hours still to go. She was looking forward to the walk home. Maybe, she could take the longer way home, walking through the bamboo grove. Maybe. She did not know yet. What she did was pull herself together and finish the shift, despite her hurting feet, her hurting back, everything hurting. She was generally exhausted. Sleep was no cure against that, not that she would have loved to be able to sleep for more than four hours at a stretch.

‘You can leave an hour earlier today,’ Noel told her. ‘I’m taking care of the rest.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure. I see you’re tired and your feet hurt. I can tell. You’re not the first waitress to suffer from that. Go home, relax. Take a head start for the weekend.’

‘I appreciate it, thank you very much.’

‘You’re welcome. Take care, Natalie.’

‘See you.’

She could tell he was worried, but still, he did not have the heart to do anything against what he thought was going on, that was wrong. Somehow, it was easier to believe that the suspicion was nothing but that, nothing but a false assumption, so that you would not have to take up actions to be able to sleep well at night.

The weather had changed again. It looked like rain, but it would not rain. There were clouds, then sun, then clouds again. It smelled like rain. Natalie loved that. She loved that rich smell, that filled her nostrils, her lungs, thick as water as compared to the smell inside the diner, that was stale and sort of like rancid oil or fat, no matter what you did keeping it clean and well-maintained.

Her head cleared, she felt good again. She knew that Carey would be home, soon, so she was not quite in a hurry but also not taking her time. She went to the nursery, got Francis, again being stared at by the staff she did not like, her biting her lip again. The assistant was one of those feminist types in her mid-twenties that Natalie did not like. They always felt discriminated, but they did not know what that meant. They wanted to push their ideas on other people all the time, but they never did anything for anyone without thinking of themselves. It was an agenda, a rotten agenda, and Natalie would never leave her child with such people if she did not have to.

‘How is your husband?’ she asked provocatively and Natalie knew where this was going.

‘I’d appreciate if you took care of your own business. You’re paid to look after Francis after all, not to lecture me on your distorted ideas. I’ve had enough of that.’

‘I was just…’

‘You’re supposed to shut up now. Good day.’

Natalie left. She had never been rude before. She would not baffle people. She would try to be polite, but then she could not anymore. She was sick of people who never did anything but talk, never sacrifice anything themselves, so with Francis in her arms, she started down the street, hoping that Carey was not there when she came home. What she needed was a hot bath without anyone in the house, except for her son. It was different being entirely alone. Even if you locked the door and the other person was downstairs you could feel that he was there. And Carey had such a presence. Even when he was in the basement, where Natalie did not know what he was doing, she could feel him as if he was standing right next to her, watching, watching and judging her.

When she walked along the artificial bend, that some architect had imagined, she could see that Carey’s car was parked in the driveway. Her heart sank. No chance for a hot bath, she thought. She unlocked the door, feeling him right away, but she would not say a thing. First, she went upstairs and put Francis to bed. Then she went to the bathroom and washed her face. She washed it, but the purple bruises would not vanish, they would not go away just like that. They would change their color several times, from black to yellow to red, until they would go away. She knew Carey would reproach her for not taking care of herself, for not being beautiful for him. That was the way it was.

Natalie changed into something more comfortable. She could not take the feeling of stiff clothes on her skin anymore. For a moment, she stood at Francis’ crib, waiting until she would have the heart to go downstairs, where he was, where she could feel him, but not hear him just yet. After ten minutes, she thought that there was no point in being intimidated like a child, so she went downstairs, peering into the kitchen, not seeing him.

‘I’m here, Natalie,’ Carey said from the sofa, where he was sitting with a glass of whiskey in his hand. The bottle next to it was almost empty.

‘You’re home early today.’

‘Yes, I’m early,’ Carey said turning toward her. Now, Natalie could see it. His face had been bashed into a mess. His nose looked as if it was broken. His eyes were swollen, they were black. His cheeks had been beaten so hard there were cuts on them. But that was not all. He was holding his glass with his left hand. Natalie had not realized that before. Carey was right-handed, but his right hand was not good for anything. His fingers looked crooked. Somebody must have broken two or three of them.

‘Carey, what happened to you?’ Natalie asked not feeling any compassion.

‘Six men attacked me. They beat me up horribly, not saying anything. When they were done, one of them said “This is for Natalie, you dump bozo”. The man goes by the name of Ranulph. Does that ring a bell?’

‘I know a man called Ranulph. He comes to the diner every day.’

‘I know. Because I’ve seen him there as well,’ Carey said getting up, emptying his glass, hurling it against the wall. ‘After it happened, I drove to the place. You know why?’

‘No, why? You come every day.’

‘I wanted to see if you’ve run off with him. Don’t you understand? I was worried that man might deceive you.’

He came close to Natalie. She wanted to back down, get away from him, but she would not. Carey embraced her, he put his head on her shoulder. There it was again, that feeling. She was helpless when he was like that.

‘I’m not having an affair with Ranulph.’

‘Yes, I know. You’d never leave me. You’ll always be with me, Natalie. You’ll never leave me. I was predestined to find you in that rat hole, that I know for sure. We were meant for each other.’

‘Was it really six men that attacked you?’

‘Why are you asking?’

‘Because Ranulph is very strong. I mean…’

‘You mean what?’ he burst out and pushed her away. ‘That I couldn’t take down a single man? Have you ever looked at me? Do you see all this? You think a single man with a girl’s name could take me out?’

‘I wasn’t saying anything, I…’

He slapped her, slapped her hard with his left hand. Natalie was knocked back but she could stay on her feet. She wiped away the fresh blood, feeling her bruises throbbing. This time, she was sick of Carey. Whatever it was that she felt when he was holding her close, when he was touching her gently, that was nothing anymore. It could not overshadow his violence any longer. Natalie smiled.

‘What are you smiling about, you bitch?’

‘I’m smiling about this bad imitation of a man standing in front of me.’

‘You dare opposing me?’

‘Yes, I do. Because you’re not a real man. Nothing but a trickster, who can’t take anyone his own size. Ranulph went to your office, huh? Taught you a lesson. Didn’t even try, did he? Just slapped the hell out of you, hoping that you would get the message. But you didn’t. Because you’re dump. You think you’re the king in this house, but you’re nothing. Not here, not in the world outside, nowhere. Wherever you go, you’re nothing, Carey.’

‘I’m gonna kill you!’

He darted at her, grabbed her, he punched her down to the ground. Natalie smiled again, so Carey punched her in the face. This time, he really struck her down. She blacked out for a moment. It was as if her brain had been shut down entirely, so she felt like a camera that had been switched off and on again.

Carey was standing over her, holding her, petting her cheek. Natalie was not aware of where she was the first moment. It took her brain time to reboot.

‘Are you alright, honey?’ Carey asked.

‘What happened to me?’

‘You fell down, hit your head. I was scared you might hurt yourself bad.’

‘What about your face?’

‘Nothing. Now, get up. We’ll get some ice for your head.’

He pulled her up, sat her on one of the chairs. While he fetched ice for her, Natalie remembered everything. He pretended that he was innocent, as if he had never touched her at all. Of course it was a lie, just a figment of his own imagination. Carey believed himself. Soon, he would look into the mirror, not seeing the wounds on it, thinking that it was him who had beaten up Ranulph. That was the world he inhabited. It was distorted. It was not the real world. In the real world, all he could bring about was pain. And that mysterious affection, that was crawling around in Natalie’s body, making her feel like she was defenseless, worth nothing. Nothing but an object Carey could project his desire onto.

She pretended that she believed him. She pretended that nothing had ever happened. It was a lie, but then what in life was not a lie. Everything was a lie, maybe even the bamboo grove. At night, she lay awake, she could not sleep, could not dream. There was this man next to her, bloated, getting fatter and fatter every day, his violence increasing likewise. What Natalie dreaded was that the next day would be like the last, that, day in and day out, things would stay the same. She tried to remember what they had been like, back in those days when Carey had found her, like he called it. As if he had been an explorer, searching for a new world to conquer. Was that untrue? It was just like that somehow, and that made it even more painful just thinking about it.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not sleep. Not for a minute. She felt like there was something inside herself that needed to break free, but there was also something other than that, something terrible. Something she would have to cut out of herself. Natalie wanted to get up, so that she could catch a glimpse of sunrise, but all the power had left her. She could not get up, felt as if nothing would ever change. She closed her eyes, hoping that the world would just disappear when she opened them again, but no, it was still there, dark, sinister, full of violence.

It got worse. She tried to get up, wanted to get up, but nothing happened. Her brain switched back to emergency mode, that it was in most of the time ever since Carey had put that ring on her finger. It’s not that bad, she told herself. You’re overreacting, Natalie. It was your fault after all, right? You were a bad wife. Just left the house without asking him for permission.

Was it her fault? The lines blurred, she could not tell anymore. Suddenly, she felt hot, she had to get out of the bed. Because she did not have the strength she just pushed herself, so that she fell down to the floor. Carey did not hear. Or did he not care? She hoped he had not heard, for he did not know a thing about caring, except for taking care of her face. Natalie touched her swollen face. It hurt a lot now, the bruises throbbing after she had touched them. That lit the fire under her. Anger. That was what she felt. It was tough, but she managed to get up. She took a look back at the coward she had married, because she had loved him, and still did, that girlish, that infantile side of herself, the intimidated, the defenseless girl he had taken hostage and would not let go anymore. She wondered if she could suffocate him with his pillow, not let go when he started shaking, if she could stand there, pressing down, for two or three full minutes, until the life would depart him, but she thought that she could not. The idea was giving her consolation for a moment, until she remembered that she had to take care of Francis, and she would not be able to do so from a prison cell.

She stood next to Francis, who was sleeping peacefully this morning. He was the only person that kept her going. Everything she had. After a moment, her problems started fading away. Natalie took the chair right next to the crib and did not notice when she fell asleep.

What woke her up was the first light of the day on her skin, shining in through the window. It was warming her. She had not realized she was cold, almost shivering. Francis was awake but not crying, so she took him out of the crib, opened the window and together, they looked out over the quarter, as the light banished the dark, when day won over night, like it always did, every morning. She could have seen this as a new beginning, as a sign, but that would have been an illusion. What Natalie knew was that she would not give up. She had considered giving up so often. Never had she really done it. That was fair enough.

The air smelled good, she thought it had a hint of bamboo to it. She thought that she could see something glowing in green and blue in the distance, but that was only her imagination. From her house, she could not see the bamboo grove, and she was relieved about that. It might have spoilt it altogether, the idea of what it was, what it was not, and what it was capable of, at least for her.

Natalie had breakfast ready when Carey woke up. She had not gone to the bamboo grove this morning. What she did not need was any more bruises in her face, that hurt like hell all the time now. It was hard to speak but she did everything to conceal that.

‘Morning,’ she said when he sat down and put the cup of coffee right in front of him.

‘Morning, beautiful,’ Carey replied and pulled her close over the table to kiss her. This time, Natalie did everything to keep her heart from jumping. This time, she succeeded. She felt nothing, other than the pain from her face.

‘You want toast?’ she asked knowing the answer.

‘Yes, I want toast.’

That was all they had to say to each other. Wordlessly, they had breakfast, until Carey got up to get dressed. Natalie cleaned up, then went upstairs avoiding him, she dressed and getting Francis, hearing the front door and the massive SUV being started up. Carey never bothered paying much attention to her in the morning, except if he could beat her for something he did not like, just like yesterday, that felt a million miles away, as if it had never happened, as if Natalie had travelled through space in the meantime, to a planet nobody had ever seen before, that had not been discovered yet, that had been waiting for her and her alone.

She walked to work again, as she always did, greeting the neighbors she knew. They looked at her with strange expressions on their faces because of her condition, but Natalie just smiled. Nothing could bother her that morning. She brought Francis to the nursery, then she checked her watch and realized that she was a bit ahead, so she took a detour.

It was more than just a small detour, about a mile, but she felt good and wanted to walk. It looked like rain, but other than yesterday, it started pouring down suddenly. She had not thought of bringing an umbrella, so her clothes got soaked in rain, but it was nothing to her, as up there, she could see the bamboo grove. It was one of those showers that were so strange, because the clouds were slim and except for a gray sky in the distance you saw the sun shining through. That was what Natalie saw. Rain drops kept falling on her, but up ahead, the bamboo grove was shimmering in blue and green, it was inviting her, so she walked a bit faster, with a smile on her face.

She entered the bamboo grove, brushing through the stalks with her hand, feeling their unique texture, a bit cold this morning from the rain. She could smell that distinctive scent, that she had never encountered anywhere else. Yes, everything was alright. Images started flooding her head, she got ideas, imagined different scenarios. The world she inhabited started expanding, it got bigger and bigger, a vast ocean of possibilities, of things to do, something to be looking forward to.

Natalie marched through the bamboo grove, imagining all kinds of scenarios she saw herself in. She felt a bit childish when she suddenly pictured herself aboard a pirate ship during the seventeenth century, fighting alongside the famous Blackbeard. She saw herself back in the seventies, when driving racecars was still glorious, and when it took guts to drive one of those aluminum boxes in Le Mans. She saw herself in the future, conquering the stars as she sailed for them in an advanced spaceship, the world behind her, so small, right there for her to reach out and take it if she wanted.

It was beyond her why she fell back to dreaming like a child, when you still had dreams in your head, regardless how ridiculous they were, dreams that you could chase, if that was all that you did. Chase your dreams. Not bury them and throw away the shovel, so that you could never again excavate them.

She lay down on the ground in the middle of the bamboo grove, rain still pouring down on her, cooling her skin, soaking her clothes. Natalie had her eyes closed, she smiled, smiled up at the gray clouds in front of the blue skies, with the sun shining down on her. It was funny, it felt good to her. Her confidence came back to her.

When she got up to walk to work, she thought that the bamboo grove had done it again. She thought that there was something to look forward to. All she wondered about was what it would feel like if another man, a real man, like Ranulph, would take her in his arms. Would she feel what she felt when Carey held her? Or would it feel differently, would it feel better? Would he ever beat her, be mad at her for nothing, or would he love her, like Carey had promised to and never done, who had never really loved her, but taken her, conquered her, like an explorer conquered ground and rammed a flag into virgin soil to claim ownership.

Natalie thought that she would like to find out what it felt like to be held by Ranulph, a man who had never said a bad word to her, who had stood up for her, when she had not been strong enough, without wanting anything from her.

While she walked back through the bamboo grove, seeing the green, the blue and the light of the day blend into one, she thought that her life was not that bad after all, because there were still different worlds she could imagine, and whatever you could imagine, that was real after all, or was it not? Natalie believed she would soon find out, when Ranulph would come in and order coffee, like he always did. But this time, she knew would be different.

For the last time, she brushed through the bamboo, then stepped on the sidewalk and walked down the road, a smile on her face she maintained until she could not feel the pain from the bruises anymore.