Day 6 - Scene 1

Screaming.

Banging.

Pain.

Enar woke up.

He opened his eyes and crammed them shut again. Too bright.

A numb ache rolled through him. Morning. It must be morning.

The banging came again.

“Enar! Wake up!” Rolf's voice came from beyond a wall.

What had happened? How did he get here?

He raised his head and clubs of steel hammered at the inside of his skull. Groaning, he laid back down, resting his head on the pillow. He'd done it again.

“Enar! Wake up!” Rolf banged on the door.

Enar didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to live. Why did he do this?

Something rustled outside the window and knuckles rapped against glass. “Yoho! Enar! Are you there?”

“Yes...” Words rattled out of Enar's throat and the taste of bile and rotten apples filled his mouth. “Yes,” he croaked, louder this time.

He'd ruined everything.

“Great. You're awake. I'm coming in.”

What? No. He was still in bed. How was he in bed? He'd been in the stables.

Amanda! He had to get back to Amanda.

The door out creaked open.

“Hey, Enar, how are you doing? Are you ready to get going?” Rolf's voice came from out in the hallway.

Enar groaned. “Yes... what?” Going? He wasn't going anywhere. “I'm fine.”

“You sound as fine as a dead crow, my friend.” Chuckling, Rolf appeared in the doorway. “You'll need to get up though. Hasse is already here to take you to the train.”

Train? What train? He couldn't leave. He had to get back to Amanda. They weren't done yet. Only – he was too late. He'd blown it. He'd had his chance and he'd blown it and now he was lost forever.

Rolf cleared his throat. “I brought some water for you. Thought you might want to freshen up a little.” He waited in silence for a moment. “I'll go put it in the washroom.”

Go away. Please. “Thanks,” Enar forced the words out. He wanted to go back to sleep, to get away from everything, to not know. Instead, he forced himself to sit up in bed.

Rolf went away, his footsteps receding down the hallway.

Enar twisted around and set his feet down on the floor. Where had his clothes gone? He sat on the edge of the bed in only his underwear.

Outside the window, birds chirped and sang. Inside the burrow, Enar slumped forward, rested his arms on his knees, and hung his head. The room wobbled around him and he crammed his eyes shut. His head still hurt, but at least the spinning stopped. Breathe in. Breathe out. One thing at a time.

What had happened?

Why was he here, how had he gotten home, where was his clothes, what had he done? What had he done?

“How are you feeling?” Rolf had appeared in the doorway again.

Like shit. “I'm okay... I'll be fine...” He rubbed at his eyes. “I just need to...” He needed to sleep – for the rest of his life.

“You look pretty rough – do you need me to help you to the washroom?”

“No... no.” Enar shook his head and immediately wished he hadn't. He put his hands on the edge of the bed and pushed himself up to standing position. “I'll be fine,” he muttered.

He probably would, eventually, until next time.

“Okay then,” Rolf said and backed away from the door. “Just, let me know if there's anything I can do to help. Hasse is here already.”

Hasse. The train. Enar groaned inwardly and tried to force a smile on his face. “Okay. I'll be quick. No worries.” He couldn't be riding a cart today. Not like this.

Rolf turned around and went into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair and Enar gritted his teeth as the wooden legs dragged against the tiles on the floor. As Rolf sat down to wait, Enar shuffled his way out into the hallway and down towards the washroom. When he got to the little stairs he reached out a hand to steady himself against the wall as he descended.

In the washroom he stopped and stared. On the little table, next to the wash basin, a lone candle illuminated the room. It shone on clothes hanging from a clothesline in the ceiling – his jeans and his shirt he'd worn yesterday; nearly dry to the touch

What were they doing here? Had he done that?

He leant against the door frame and stared up at the clothes. Shadows danced as the light flickered. Enar's head spun and his stomach lurched. Bile rose in his throat. Clasping his hand to his mouth he stumbled forward, towards the hole in the floor in the corner, the one that should only be used in emergencies.

His knees cracked against the floor, and standing on all fours he emptied his stomach into the hole. He hurled until his throat ached and his belly cramped. He hurled until there was nothing else to throw up and all that remained was the taste of bile on his tongue and sour spittle on his lips.

Arms trembling he sat back on his haunches and waited, still leaning over the hole, but nothing else came. He hugged himself to stop from shaking and tried to calm his breathing.

Eventually he got up. He washed himself in the basin, grabbed his clothes from the line, and left. Behind him, the washroom stank of vomit.

“How are you doing lad?” Rolf still sat on the chair in the kitchen. “Do you need a hand?”

“No.” Enar stepped into the bedroom and threw his clothes on the bed. He'd pack them last. There should be a plastic bag for dirty laundry in the suitcase, he could put them there. That way they wouldn't get anything else damp.

What had he done? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Move on.

Light and sounds from the morning filtered in through the curtains. The world went on as normal.

His coat hung where he'd left it, over the back of the chair. On the chair itself lay his spare jeans and a clean shirt, both neatly folded.

Useless. A useless drunk was what he was; a nuisance and a burden.

Someone else had hung up his clothes to dry. Someone else had laid out clean clothes for him to wear. What else had they done?

Rolf had brought him water. He must have known.

Silent, and with quiet care, Enar picked up the shirt and put it on, trying to make as little noise as he could. Standing with his back to the doorway, and well out of sight from the kitchen, he buttoned it up. Keep calm. Keep quiet. Be respectable.

Satisfied he'd put all the buttons in the right holes he picked up the jeans and shook them out. Calm. Careful. In control. One leg at a time he pulled them on, zipped up, buckled his belt and patted his pocket to be sure he had everything with him. Done.

Ice filled his stomach.

He patted his pockets again.

His phone lay in his front right pocket, where he always kept it. His skin grew cold. He hadn't worn these jeans before. He'd had his phone in his other jeans yesterday.

Enar swallowed. It must have been Rolf. Maybe if he didn't say anything about it, his host wouldn't say anything either. Keep quiet. Keep calm.

In the suitcase, he found the plastic bag he'd packed for putting his used clothes in. He pulled out his dirty laundry and put it in the bottom of the suitcase, not caring that it mixed with his last clean shirt and and all the socks he hadn't worn. He probably stank of old alcohol anyway.

He grabbed the damp clothes from the bed, crammed them into the plastic bag and dumped it all in the suitcase. He closed the lid and locked the clasps that held it shut. Done. He could leave now. He never wanted to come back.

Staring at the suitcase, on the floor, in the room, where he'd slept, a heavy lump appeared in his throat. He'd been happy here. He'd love to come back, but he couldn't – not now.

Stick it out. Keep it together.

He closed his eyes, hung his head and took a few slow breaths.

Just a little longer.

Out in the kitchen, Rolf cleared his throat and the chair he sat on creaked.

Enar picked up the suitcase, grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, and walked out into the hallway. His head spun, and he dropped what he carried to reach out and steady himself against the frame of the door.

The suitcase wobbled for a moment and then fell on its side with a bang. Enar winced. Pathetic.

“How are you doing?” Rolf asked from the chair in the kitchen.

Enar stared at the floor. Over by the opposite wall, just next to the other door, lay a small pottery shard. He closed his eyes and sighed. “What happened?”

Rolf chuckled. “I have no idea, my friend. No idea. Why don't you tell me?”

“I... don't know...” He leaned against the wall, looked at the suitcase, and wished he could just leave it there. “I don't remember. We had some cider...”

“I'd say you had more than just some, my friend.” Chuckling, Rolf stood up and came out in the hallway. “Come on, let's go.” He bent down and picked up the coat and the suitcase.

“Yes.” Enar nodded and reached out to take the coat from Rolf, but his host had already stepped out of reach, towards the door out. He let his hand fall and pushed off from the wall with the other. “I'm coming.”

Rolf pulled the door open and stepped out. The light of the morning stabbed at Enar. It pierced his eyes and cracked against the insides of his skull. Too bright. Where was his hat? Now when he really needed it, he had no idea where it was. Hopefully in the suitcase.

Probably lost in a ditch somewhere.

Squinting, Enar followed Rolf out of the burrow. When he stepped over the threshold, he stopped and raised a hand to shield his eyes. It was late. Not yet time for lunch, but well past breakfast. When did the train leave?

“Wait, Rolf. Wait.”

Rolf stopped a little further down the path and looked back up at Enar; he too shielding his eyes. “Yes?”

“Do you know... I mean...” Enar stopped and took a deep breath. “Did you help me get back home last night?” His face bright red, he looked at Rolf for a moment, before breaking eye contact to stare at the grass by the side of the path.

“Yes,” said Rolf. “We found you down by the gate last night, so we helped you up and put you in bed.”

Enar stared at him. “You found me?”

Rolf nodded. “Yep. The bell rang as usual, but when you never showed up me and Erik went to have a look. You'd sat down on the stairs and fallen asleep.”

“Oh...” He fidgeted and stared at the ground. “Thanks.” Clearing his throat he raised his head and looked straight at Rolf. “Thank you very much.” He'd been a bother. He'd have to accept and acknowledge that. “I very much appreciate it.”

“Don't mention it, my friend.” Rofl grinned up at him. “You were very cooperative once we woke you up. No trouble at all.” He waved down the path. “Now come on. We've got to get moving.”

Enar pulled the door shut behind him and started off down the path. The ground lay dry under his feet and the morning sun had driven the dew from the grass. “Wait... I went to sleep outside in the rain?” What had he done last night? Was Amanda okay?

“No. At least I don't think so,” said Rolf over his shoulder. “The rain stopped at around midnight and the bell rang shortly after that.” He chuckled. “You probably walked a lot in the rain though. Your clothes were completely soaked through.”

“I wore clothes at least then?” He tried to make it a joke, but like everything else it just came out a dry rattle. Pathetic. He just wasn't a funny person.

Wait.

He had taken his clothes off. In the barn. He'd been gallivanting about in front of Amanda dressed in only his underwear and wrapped up in a blanket – practically naked. Fat, drunk, and naked. He'd never be able to look her in the eyes again. Then again, she probably wouldn't want to see him anyway. Just as well. He'd just say something stupid and make an ass of himself again, or upset her, or something.

Ahead of him on the path, Rolf laughed. “Yes, of course you were. Your shirt was open, but that's normal after a few drinks. Good cider and little fiddly buttons just don't go that well together you know.”

Enar didn't know, but nodded anyway. Must be a hill sider thing. “Yes, right. I know...” He'd always kept his shirt on before.

They walked on in silence until they reached the porch. There, Beired waited along with Loianna, Linus and Linnea. Elsie had run off somewhere and Erik kept Hasse company down by the gate. The old driver hadn't wanted to climb all the stairs.

Beired, or possibly Linnea, had put together a breakfast pack for Enar to eat on the cart. He made a half-hearted attempt to protest and claim he wasn't hungry, but Beired wouldn't have any of it. A bit of food would do him good and that's the end of that.

Enar relented – not that he'd put up much of a fight – and took the pack; probably a breakfast roll or two. He'd eat them later.

Then they all said goodbye; a bit awkward and a bit formal, but with no handshakes, and absolutely no hugging. He probably smelled too bad, and they probably didn't approve of him anymore anyway.

About halfway down to the road, Enar stopped at the top of a short staircase. He put his hand on the railing to support himself and took a deep breath. “Rolf.”

“Yes?” Rolf stopped and turned around. Still carrying Enar's coat and suitcase.

“I'm really sorry about all this.” He swallowed and picked at a crack in the wood in the hand rail. “I didn't mean to be a burden.”

“Nonsense, my friend.” Rolf grinned up at him. “These things happen, and at least it only happened once, and you didn't break anything. It's all fine with me. I bet you're the one worse off anyway.”

“Well...” Twice. He'd done it twice. “If you say so.” And he'd broken the stupid jug. “It's just... you know...”

“Yes, yes. I know. I've been there too. Now stop worrying about it or I will get annoyed for real.” He turned around and continued down the path, perhaps with his step a little stiffer than before.

Enar sighed and followed.

“Enar! Wait! Enar!” A young voice yelled from back up the slope.

Enar stopped and looked around. Ahead of him, Rolf sighed and set down the suitcase; another delay.

Up among the trees, Elsie came running, dress flying around her knees and hair flapping behind her. One of her braids had come undone and she hadn't bothered to fix it. “Enar! Enar! Wait!”

“What is it Elsie?” snapped Rolf. “We're in a hurry.”

“Sorry dad.” Out of breath, the girl didn't even look at her father. “Enar. I made something for you. So you remember us.” She held up a loop of string to him – a necklace.

Enar winced. He didn't want to remember this. Departing, hung over and in shame, wasn't something he'd want to be reminded of when he thought of his vacation.

Still, he couldn't refuse the gift, and, forcing himself to smile, he took the necklace from her hands.

A stone with a hole in it had been threaded on leather thong. Grass and little twigs had been placed around the stone and tied to it with twine.

Clearing his throat he held up the necklace and studied it closer. The craftsmanship was what you'd expect from a little kid, but the amount of twine used in tying the twigs to the stone indicated that a lot of effort had gone into it. “Did you make this?” The words rattled out him, grinding against his throat. “It's very pretty.”

“Anna made the stone, but I picked out the pillars and tied them on myself.”

“I see.” Enar nodded. “I see.” Pillars?

Elsie looked up at him, her hands behind her back.

“Thank you.”

“Put it on. It won't do you any good if you don't put it on.”

Do good? What had the strange little child put together. Beired's daughter. Maybe she took after her mother. The monks had said they should keep an eye on her.

Enar looked from the necklace, to the girl, and back to the necklace again. What harm would it do? It wasn't like he wasn't a miserable wretch anyway.

He put the necklas over his head.

Nothing happened.

When he pulled at the collar of his shirt to let the pendant lie directly against his chest one of the twigs scratched his skin. The thong weighed against his neck, but other than that he didn't feel anything.

“Great!” said Elsie and clapped her hands. “Now we hurry. You're late.” And just like that she ran off again; past her dad and further down the path. “Hurry!” She yelled as she ran, arms flailing, and hair flying.

Enar sighed and wished he could be as happy. He looked at Rolf and nodded. “Let's go.”

Far back up at the burrow the bell rang as the gate swung shut behind them. Hasse and Erik stood talking by the side of the road in the shade of the blushberry hedge. Further down the road waited the carriage, with Rosalove still attached, ready to get going. Elsie stood next to the horse, with a hand on its mule and whispering something in its ear.

The back of the cart had been filled with burlap sacks; probably apples, probably lumpy, but still something to lie on for the ride.

“There you are lad,” yelled Hasse and waved. “Cutting it close are we.”

Enar groaned inwardly, but nodded and lifted his hand in greeting – not very high. “Good morning,” he mumbled and tried to smile.

“Hah! Morning. It's near midday already lad.” Chuckling, Hasse came over and grabbed the suitcase from Rolf. “I hear you'll be feeling a bit delicate today.”

“Yes...” Enar blushed. “Sorry.”

Hasse clapped him on the shoulder, hard enough he had to take a step to the side to steady himself. “Nonsense lad. I'll have none of that. You need only apologize to your own poor self.” He walked over to the back of the cart and tossed up the suitcase, up on the sacks.

“Yes, so...” Enar sighed. “Yes.” He needed to loosen up a little, didn't he? Stop apologizing for everything.

“Come on, let's go.” Hasse climbed up on the cart and sat down on the driver's seat.

“Well...” Scratching the back of his neck and starring at the road, dry again after the rain, Enar turned to Rolf. “Thank you very much for everything.”

“Don't mention it, my friend. It's been a pleasure.” Rolf grinned and handed him his coat. “I hope you had a good time, well, most of the time.”

“Yes. Yes I did. Thanks.” Enar sighed and looked up. The sun shone. The wind hummed through the trees. On the other side of the road, the forest fell away into a ravine, and, beyond that, hill upon forested hill spread out as far as he could see. Birdsong pierced his ears, sunlight stabbed at his eyes and his head ached enough he thought it'd split. “It's been great. Really.” He sighed and let his head hang again. “I'm sorry I made a mess of myself.”

Rolf reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. “Don't worry my friend, I'm sure it's worse for you than for me.” He squeezed once, grinned, and let go. “You really ought to hurry though. The train won't wait.”

“Yes. You're right.” Enar took a deep breath and turned to follow Hasse. “Thanks again,” he said over his shoulder.

“Off with you now.” Rolf chuckled. “Shoo shoo my friend.”

“Goodbye Enar,” said Erik, coming up to stand beside his father.

Enar nodded at the boy, almost a man, and then finally moved to climb up on the cart.

“You can lie in the back if you want lad,” said Hasse. “They're for cider anyway so it don't matter none if they get dented.”

Enar nodded and clambered over the back of the seat and sat down on one of the sacks. Lumpy. Round and hard, but at least he could lie back and close his eyes, perhaps rest a little. If only the old fart would have the sense to shut up and not talk his head off.

“Enar! Enar!” Elsie stood beside the cart and waved her hands in the air while jumping up and down, making sure he'd see her.

Rolf gave a shout and the cart started into motion.

Enar lifted a hand and waved. “Goodbye Elsie.” A smile crept up on his lips, unbidden and real. “Tell Anna I say hi.” Where had that come from?

Elsie laughed and stopped jumping. “Silly Enar, tell her yourself.” She walked beside the cart for a few moments and then stopped and waved. “Come back soon.”

Yeah, like that would happen. He waved one last time and fell back against the sacks of apples, staring up into the sky, leaving Elsie – and Rolf, and Erik, and the rest of the family – behind.

The hoofs of the horse clattered agains the ground. The cart rattled and creaked, jostling Enar back and forth among the apples, but at least Hasse kept quiet.

Enar folded up his coat, placed it under his head and tried to make himself as comfortable as he could.

What had happened last night? They hadn't had that much of the cider, or had they? He hoped he hadn't done anything bad – more bad than getting horribly drunk and not remembering anything. He'd made an ass of himself for sure, but what if he'd done worse. What if he'd hurt her again; said something mean, or tried to do something.

Enar squeezed his eyes together and tried to force himself not to think about it. Surely he'd been too drunk, right? He should try and get in touch. Neta would know how.

He should.

He'd been an idiot and a fool and he should own up to it and set it right. Somehow, he'd make it up to her. He'd apologize and make his excuses.

When would she be back? She hadn't said. He should probably wait a bit, a few weeks maybe. It wouldn't hurt. Maybe he could send a letter instead. It's not like she'd want anything to do with him anyway; a foolish, miserable, drunk who was too stiff and uptight and couldn't dance and didn't have anything interesting to say. She probably had many, much more interesting, friends anyway.

She was way too good for him.

Enar squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of something else. A dog. He'd get a dog.

Amanda had said she didn't want anyone. She liked being alone. She didn't mind a bit of fun now and then, but she liked being alone.

The stone on the necklace weighed against his chest. One of the twigs pricked his skin and he poked at the little pendant through his shirt to adjust its position.

Why did the cart smell of raspberries?

---

Continued in Enar's Vacation - Epilogue.

Back to Enar's Vacation.