It was too crowded in the den. Tendaji loved his family, truly he did, and he did his best to act relaxed, normal. As if he had never left home and nothing bad had ever happened. But it was too crowded in the den and at night he could feel the walls pressing in on him and he could hear her voice. His mistress still haunted him. Still wanted to hurt him, to kill his family. Each night he woke up with a scream stuck at the bottom of his throat and each night he made his careful way out of the den. Stepping over a limb here, a body there. Always careful not to step on anyone, not to wake anyone up. Because even though he wanted to run and run and run, he wouldn’t place any of his burdens on his family. Even at night when the world was a place of nightmares, they remained true. Abrafo, Nia, Izin, Safi, Kamau, Cari – on and on and on! Even his new mystery aunt, the scary one. He’d watched carefully, but none of them were monsters. None of them had hurt him.
So each night he slept in the den, hoping this night would be different and knowing it wouldn’t be. And each night he woke up because the walls were closing in and the things behind his eyes were too horrible.
He stepped out of the den and took a deep, shuddering breath of night air. Another. Breathe.
Like a ghost, Tujil-dasu was by his side, sitting next to him without touching. Touching was bad sometimes. Not that she would ever hurt him; she was safe. She never asked him to do anything he didn’t want to do, and she always… he never bumped into her or anything, but she always knew when he had a nightmare, always came out of the den with him. Sat and watched him breathe and didn’t ask any questions.
Tonight he felt like talking. He made his way down the bank of the stream so that he wouldn’t wake his family. Tujil-dasu followed him, just as he knew she would. He stopped a short way down and turned to look at her.
“She kept saying it was normal,” he said. He didn’t clarify who She was; this was the continuation of an old conversation, one carried on in bits and pieces during the nights he escaped his family’s den. Some things could only be said at night.
“It wasn’t,” Tujil-dasu replied.
“But she kept saying it was. That I should like it when she… when she hurt me. She’d look so, so… disappointed. Like she pitied me, or or I was letting her down somehow.”
“Tendaji…”
“She kept asking if I loved her. I only said no the once.”
“Because she’d beat you if you said no.”
“Only at the end. I meant it at first. I thought… I thought she was right, that there was something wrong. Wrong with me, I mean. I tried… I tried to enjoy it, or pretend I enjoyed it. Not to… to flinch so much. And it wasn’t so bad at first. I thought she loved me.”
“Of course she didn’t! How could she?”
Tendaji looked away. “I know I’m too pathetic to be loved…”
“Stop it. Look at me! That’s not what I meant and you know it. If she loved you, she’d never have hurt you. Not once.”
“She hurt me when we made love. All the time. More and more as time went on.”
“Making love isn’t the same thing as being in love. There’s a difference.”
“No there isn’t.”
Foolish boy, she thought to herself. “Tendaji, when did she ever say she loved you?”
He hesitated, thought back. “She never did,” he said slowly, wondering.
“Then for all of her faults, she wasn’t a liar.”
“So nobody’s ever loved me,” he said with a sad smile.
“Your family loves you.”
He smiled the same sad smile. “And I’ve brought them nothing but trouble.”
“You’ve brought them your own wonderful self. Cari told me you used to tell the most wonderful stories about giant butterflies,” she teased.
“Used to.”
“Oh Tendaji…”
“When I was younger, I set off with Izin and Kamau to find a lady love. I thought I’d finally found her… but nobody’s ever loved me that way. Nobody will.”
Except me. “You’re still young.”
“I’m tired. And… and I can’t even sleep in a den! The walls are just. They’re so close. I can’t. And I hear her, I hear her whispering, all the things she wants... she calls me pet and she just, she’s there and she…”
“Tendaji,” Tujil-dasu said firmly. “Your name is Tendaji.”
He closed his eyes and lay down beside her, his side brushing hers. “I’m so tired.”
She nuzzled his ear. “Then sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
He smiled. “Why do I feel safer when you’re near?”
“Because you know I’ll look after you.”
“But you’re always away,” he muttered, half asleep, “smelling of other wild dogs…”
“There’s a difference between making love and being in love,” she repeated softly.
Tendaji quirked a smile. “Does being in love hurt,” he asked, “as much as making love?”
“Oh Tendaji,” she sighed, “making love doesn’t hurt at all.”
“But it hurt so much…”
Tujil-dasu lay down so that her body stretched out next to Tendaji’s. “I told you. It wasn’t normal, not any of it.”
“Then show me normal,” Tendaji growled, awake once more. “Show me a female that will even look at me –“
“A lady leopard?”
He watched Tujil-dasu out of the corner of his eye, not sure what it was about her tone that made him feel so sad. “Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll find your lady leopard.”
Tendaji looked away. “I’m frightened…”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not ever,” she said fiercely.
“But I’m still frightened.”
“My dear, beloved Tendaji… nobody will hurt you. Not while I’m here. Not while your family’s here. We’ll protect you.”
“I wanted to be the one to do the protecting…”
She smiled and nuzzled him. “You still can. Ask Safi or Abrafo to teach you how to fight… but tomorrow. Sleep now, I’m here.”
And, smiling, Tendaji slept while Tujil-dasu lay awake, pondering his request.
Word count: 1,047
