The Ibutatu Estate, Isla Dzum
Hashem shrugged, lowering the trunk from where he’d started to hoist it on his shoulder. He watched Aremu, carefully, as the Mugrobi came around, and hooked his hand and the wooden prosthetic beneath the edge of the trunk. There was a shift, and Aremu felt the weight of it settle onto him, at least in part. He inclined his head.
Between the two of them, they carried it towards the house.
Behind him, Jidha was hoisting Aremu’s trunk onto his shoulder, trailing after them. Chibugo was climbing down the ladder still; he dropped the last few feet to the bottom, glancing around, the breeze off the ocean skimming his braids. He leaned over and spat, then, onto the knee high waving grass that lined the cliff.
Aremu carried the trunk with Hashem the rest of the way into the house. The Hessean left him the last of its weight, and Aremu grunted, lowering it carefully to the floor in the midst of the living room. The furniture was dusted, kept clean; no sheets covered the room here, at least. The windows were closed, and Aremu went to one, and then the next, opening them so the cool breeze washed over the light wood furniture, crisp white curtains snapping in it. Clean cushions were set here and there on the couch and chairs, vivid floral patterns in bright colors, just a little faded from the breeze and sun.
“Flooding hot here already,” Chibugo said, stepping around Jidha as he set Aremu’s trunk down. “You need help getting it up there?” He gestured at the stairs with his chin.
Aremu shook his head. “No, adame,” he reached out.
Chibugo clasped Aremu’s hand in his, squeezing lightly. He smiled.
Hashem trotted out the back door; he spat once on the ground outside as well, making his way back to the ship.
“Ule’elana, Aremu,” Jidha said, smiling. Aremu smiled back.
Chibugo’s second hand came and met his forearm. He shook his head; he grinned. “Almost like old times.”
“I cannot thank you enough,” Aremu said, frowning.
Chibugo grinned. “What are thanks between brothers?” Hs gaze lowered to Aremu’s wrist; his eyebrows lifted, and his head tilted to the side. “I know what I owe you.” He squeezed Aremu’s hand with his. “Be well, my friend.” He glanced at the trunk, and went over, and crouched beside it, rapping lightly on the top. “And Circle bless!”
Laughing, Chibugo went.
Aremu stood at the doorway; he waved, once, exhaling. Chibugo was the last figure up the ladder, Jidha and Hashem above him, the sling which had raised and lowered the trunks already towed back onto the ship. Aremu closed the door behind himself, and went to the trunk; he undid the straps, one then the other, and opened the lid of it.
“All right,” Aremu exhaled, kneeling beside her. Something which had clenched tight inside him for two days relaxed, slowly.
Welcome, Aremu thought to say, or else make yourself at home. We’ve made it, maybe, he might have said. You’re safe, he wanted to say; you’re as safe as I can make you. You can stay here as long as like. I hope you’ll like it, here. He tried to see it from her perspective, and he found he couldn’t, really, not quite; he couldn’t imagine what this must be like for her, not the journey, not the house, not him.
“How do you feel?” Aremu asked instead, softly. He smiled at Aurelie, soft beneath the little frown wrinkling his forehead. He reached his hand to her, slowly, thinking to help her out of the trunk and into the house, standing himself for better leverage. The prosthetic on his right side he tucked into the pocket of his linen pants, so it was only a bulge, as if it were nothing more.
Outside, there was a quiet rumble as the Tsqueqachye’ki lifted away; a shadow passed over the house, and was gone.