Chapter 16: Not on My Schedule

Cerys got as far as the turn in the passage before she had to put her good hand against the wall.

The growing rooms were still a long way below her. She could hear people moving somewhere beyond the next bend, going about a day that had begun without her. She had wanted to reach that bend. Now she wasn't certain she could get back to her room.

She had sat up easily that morning. Easily enough, at least, to convince herself that yesterday's promise not to get out of bed just to prove she could had already served its purpose. She hadn't hidden her scar when she dressed. She'd made it to the door without calling for Elis.

The passage had looked so ordinary that she'd kept going.

Her ribs caught when she tried to straighten. She waited for the pain to ease, then took another step. Her injured shoulder pulled against the weight of her arm. By the time her foot reached the floor, her legs had begun to tremble.

“Cerys?”

Elis had come around the bend behind her. She turned her head but couldn't turn the rest of herself without losing the wall.

“I was going to come back,” she said.

“I can see that you're trying.”

“I was doing better.”

His eyes went to the hand she had pressed flat against the wall. He didn't come closer yet. “What were you going to do?”

“Get to the growing rooms.”

“Today?” he asked.

“I thought I might at least get to the stairs.”

She'd said it aloud now. The distance between what she'd planned and where she stood was humiliatingly small.

Elis glanced in the direction she'd been walking. “Can you get your weight off that arm?”

“I don't know.”

“All right.” He stayed where she could see him. “What do you want me to do?”

It was not the question she had prepared an answer for. She'd expected him to tell her she was going back to bed. She'd expected to be furious and, worse, to have to obey because she couldn't manage the walk alone.

“I want to finish,” she said.

“Getting downstairs?”

“No.” She looked back toward her room. “Getting myself back.”

He nodded, as though she'd given him a perfectly reasonable destination. “How can I help?”

Cerys tried to push away from the wall. Pain tightened across her side. She stopped before her feet moved.

She could ask him to carry her. She could also insist she needed nothing and stay here until she couldn't stand. Both choices suddenly seemed designed for someone who wasn't as tired as she was.

“Come on my left,” she said. “Let me take your arm. I want to walk, but I need you beside me.”

Elis came close enough for her to reach him. He offered his forearm instead of taking her hand. She caught his sleeve first, then found a steadier hold. His other hand stayed at his side.

“Is that enough?” he asked.

“Give me a moment.”

He waited.

The first step back was worse than the last step out. Cerys had to put more weight on him than she'd intended. She felt the shift in his stance as he took it, but he didn't try to lift her or hurry her down the passage. She could stop when she needed to. That was something she hadn't known how badly she wanted until she had it.

“You can say you told me so,” she said.

“I didn't tell you anything.”

“You were going to.”

“I was going to ask where you were going.” His arm steadied under hers. “You answered that,” Elis said.

She might have laughed if her ribs had allowed it. Instead she concentrated on getting past the doorway she'd been so pleased to cross.

Inside the room, the bed looked farther away than it had when she left. Elis waited while she decided where to go, then helped her turn toward it. She sat before she could change her mind and try to make the last few steps look easy.

The relief was immediate. So was the anger.

“I could stand for longer yesterday,” she said.

“You weren't trying to walk to hydroponics yesterday.”

“I didn't get anywhere near hydroponics.”

“I know,” Elis said.

She looked at him. He wasn't smiling. That made it harder to turn her mistake into a joke she could survive without looking at it.

Elis drew the chair up, but left room for her to stretch her legs. Cerys let her arm fall into her lap. The sleeve she'd gripped was wrinkled; she was absurdly conscious that she'd done that to him.

“Did I make it worse?” she asked.

“You've overdone it. I want you to rest and let me see how you feel once you've recovered from the walk.”

She waited for a more precise answer. He'd never offered her one to make her feel better, and she knew he wouldn't begin now.

“I was hoping to do a full shift when I went back,” she said.

“I know. You've mentioned it.”

“Only because you keep not agreeing.”

“I haven't agreed because a full shift is still too much. After today, I don't want you treating the first trip downstairs as a test of how long you can stay,” Elis said.

Cerys looked toward the passage. Her coworker had said he wanted her back when she was ready. She'd pictured arriving, seeing what the team had changed, and staying until they were all tired enough to go home. She had never imagined having to leave while there was still work she could do with her hands.

“So I can go back for a little while,” she said, “but not work the way I used to.”

“When you're ready for a short visit, we can talk about that. The full routine will have to wait longer.”

He had not forbidden her from going downstairs forever. She ought to have been relieved. Instead she thought of the distance she'd failed to cross and felt how much she'd spent trying to win back a day she hadn't yet been given.

Elis stood to leave her to rest. Cerys caught the edge of his sleeve again before he could move.

He looked down at her hand. She let go, then found she still had something to ask.

“Next time,” she said, “will you walk with me as far as the turn?”

“If that's what you want.”

“And if I need to stop halfway, don't decide I've failed.”

His expression changed, just enough for her to see that he'd heard the part she hadn't quite meant to say. “Then we'll stop halfway.”

She looked at the wrinkles in his sleeve. She had grabbed him because she was afraid of falling. Asking him to come next time was different. She would have to trust him to see her stop without turning it into a reason to take over.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For the arm?”

“For letting me ask for it.”

After he left, Cerys took the hydroponics page from beside her pillow. She had been saving it to carry downstairs herself. Her collar rested below the scar; she left it alone. She turned the page over and wrote one sentence.

When I come back, it will be for a short visit first.

She wanted to scratch it out and promise a full day instead. Her hand ached from holding the pencil, so she set it down. The first day back would not be a test of how long she could endure. It would end while she still had enough strength to choose the ending herself.