There Is Only Now
MANU ILAPAVULURI
I was five when she found me. I was buried under clothes, straw and broken clay. I didn’t really want to look at her to be honest. Her teeth were skewed, her eyes glinted weirdly, and she kind of wheezed.
‘My, aren’t you a sweet little thing?’ She asked me why I hadn’t left with the other folk, why I hadn’t packed up a small bag and rushed out of the town like everyone else, away from the flames that licked everything up.
I looked in the distance, passed the woman’s hunched posture and out the entryway of the house. They hadn’t returned.
‘Well, girl, if ya ain’t ‘gonna give me some straight answers, I think I’ll just take these.’ Her wrinkled hand reached forward and snatched my mother’s special silks, ‘And – HEY!’
I scratched her, pulling the silk pieces back and crumpling them into my chest.
‘You’ve got some nerve, you have.’ Her skewed teeth gave me another weird smile.
*
‘You’ve got some nerve, you have. You little shit!’
I scoffed quietly to myself. ‘You’re the one breaking your own rule,’ I muttered.
‘This ain’t the same thing! It’s been a damn long time and my business will be welcomed back, just you see.’
Not bothering to give Nettie another response, I instead focused on the bramble bushes in front of me. My fingers stung from the pricking thorns. I tried following Nettie’s instructions, tried to avoid the bunched branches, choosing the stragglers, the abandoned ones, and made sure to not crush them as I picked them off the stem. I had gotten better since the last time we were here, but I was still pretty bad.
‘Ya know what? Forget it, I’ll take care of this. You get my basket back to the shop and start juicing.’ Nettie pulled me up by my arm, leaving a clean rag in one of my hands and her basket in my other. ‘Take the long way and use the stream. Do not use my clean water, you got that, Sap?’
I hummed a response before taking off down the rocky path.
When I reached the winding waterway, I slowly sunk my hands into the water. They were stained and scratched and I couldn’t tell what was berry and what was blood.
The irony struck me as I hissed from the tear of my own skin. I hurriedly dipped my hand back in, laughing despite my pain. One of Nettle Joy’s Fortifying Skin Potions would’ve been perfect right about now, if she wasn’t a fat fraud. I quickly turned to glance behind me, as if Nettie would miraculously appear from thin air at the mere thought of calling her “fat”. And a fraud, although she’d be proud of that part.
I wrapped the rag around my hand before heading to the wagon – our home and Nettle Joy’s portable shop.
It was an oakwood structure, paisleys painted in dark green along the body, with blue shutters and brass hardware. The steps creaked, the hinges groaned and with every single journey the wagon protested, but it kept us safe. It was home, at least more of a home than I could ever remember having before. The shop itself was smaller, more of a stall really, bolted to the back of the wagon. Enough space for two people to hobble about, bumping elbows while they provided their business as they travelled.
It was a simple life. It was enough. It had to be.
I gave the horses a few berries as a treat before climbing inside and setting the basket down on the counter, starting the prep for Nettie’s new remedy. There was the “healing tea” to soothe ailing heartbreaks. Then came the specialised perfume which gave “internal alignment”. The latest scam was an elixir which promised a calmer soul. It would be the “permanent fix”, according to Nettie’s new sign.
I squished the blackberries under a wooden spoon to get a deep maroon slush of berry juice and pulp.
‘“Permanent fix”… Right.’
I blew at the stray pieces of my hair that tickled my nose before pouring the blackberry juice into another bowl lined with a cotton cloth. After draining the pulp, all that was left was a crimson liquid, thick and tart and sickeningly sweet.
*
Business was back. We had parked just on the outskirts of the town’s marketplace, close enough to be noticed but far enough to be alone, just how Nettie liked it. The midday sun was searing down upon us, a sweltering heat with only the shade of our stall to keep me cool.
Nettie had set up a table on the dusty path to display the new product – Nettle Joy’s Soothing Amethyst Elixir – medium-sized glass bottles, filled with basil and blackberry tea. Nettie put on a show for the customers, crushing up sugar crystals dyed purple, adding them to the tea and giving a dramatic stir before corking the bottle. She performed the same choreographed commercial with every purchase, and I watched her revel in the oohs and ahs of the small crowd.
Business was indeed back, and from Nettie’s off-key humming that night during pack up, business was good.
‘Count the earnings and give me the number, Sap.’
I sighed and pulled my weight off the table I was leaning on.
I heard her scoff. ‘Aw, what’s it, aye? Tired from standing in the shade all day?’
I knew what response I could give, but it wasn’t worth the trouble. Besides, Nettie was right, she had been the one working all day. I simply shook my head.
‘Good.’
We continued to work in silence. She folded up the table and stocked the empty bottles back in the crates, ready for tomorrow while I counted our earnings down to the final coin.
I cleared my throat, ‘A total of eight hundred and forty seven. All coins.’
Nettie tutted, ‘Yeah, these folk can’t afford the notes like that last town. Posh poppy cocks, they were.’
I split off fifty coins as my personal earnings before filling Nettie’s pouch with the rest. ‘If memory serves me right, you said that town was the only one lavish enough for you.’
‘Grew some balls, did you?’ Her gaze was sharp.
I chewed my cheek, opting to change the subject by showing her that I had indeed only taken fifty coins, as promised.
Nettie just gave me a nod before handing me a bowl of stew and some bread. She slurped and gnawed at her meal, sending me the occasional glance to make sure I was eating.
‘What?’ She asked, after a while.
I shrugged, eating a spoonful of stew. ‘Nothing. Just wondering if I can have some of the blackberries afterwards? We have enough to last us the week.’
Nettie sighed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her bangles clanking together in the movement. ‘Because, Maple, I don’t waste my stock on some little sap who wants something sweet. You want to have something, you pay for it. That’s how it works.’
I pursed my lips. ‘Yeah. I know that. I was going to pay for it. Just wanted to know if it was an option…’
She regarded me with a little more of a smirk before dumping her bowl in the sink. ‘Guess you’re learning, Sap.’
I relaxed a little at the sound of the nickname, quickly finishing my dinner and getting started on the dishes as Nettie grabbed her money pouch and headed out, further into the town. Meaning there had to be at least one pub playing cards that night.
By the time I was finished, the bramble scratches on my hands stung from the soapy dishwater. I shook my hands, flicking droplets into the basin before I started to look for some ointment. Hopefully something that wasn’t made by Nettle Joy.
‘Hey!’
I jolted from the heavy knock.
‘I see the light, I know you’re in there!’
Bracing through the stinging cuts, I shuffled towards the other end of the wagon, mentally cursing the creaky wooden floor.
‘We’re closed!’ I yelled out while rummaging through Nettie’s drawers.
I pulled out a small dagger and gripped it tightly as I heard another knock. I cracked the joint in my neck and held the weapon just as Nettie taught me. Mock bravery is still bravery, as long as the other side doesn’t know you’re bluffing. With a single deep breath in, I tore open the door. ‘You hit that door again, I cut off your hand.’
He wasn’t that much taller than me, a bit stocky with a nose that was a little crooked, but I could have handled him.
‘Please, no, he means no harm.’ Beside the loud disturbance was an elderly woman, wrapped in a shawl and grasping the man’s arm tightly. ‘My grandson is only worried about me,’ she croaked out.
I turned back to the man, watching as he eyed the dagger in my hand. ‘What do you want?’ I asked, keeping my grasp on the blade.
‘Our money back! Look at this!’ The man pointed at his grandmother’s cheek.
The skin was raw and red, inflamed and irritated from what looked like a rash.
I frowned. Cautiously sheathing the dagger, I stepped down from the door to let the lantern lights spill out. The old woman’s skin seemed to peel slightly, as if a moulting snake shed its scales too early, leaving itself vulnerable.
‘What happened?’ My voice caught in my throat.
The elder woman shook her head, reaching for my hand, ‘It must not have sat well. I’ve felt woozy all evening.’
Her grandson crossed his arms, puffed out his chest and stepped forward. ‘Our money, please.’
‘I…’ My lips pursed as I glanced back and forth between the pair of them ‘I can’t do that. No refunds.’
Even in the warm lantern lights, I could see the grandson’s face redden with anger. ‘That’s absurd!’ He stepped closer, only halting as my hand reached for the smooth wood of the dagger.
‘Come, boy,’ his grandmother gripped his shoulder. ‘Let it go.’
I watched as he allowed himself to be pulled along by his grandmother. ‘We should go to the mayor!’
‘We should go to the medic.’
I waited for them to turn the corner before stepping outside and locking the door shut. Hooking the keys onto my belt, I went to find Nettie.
*
I pushed past drunks and dancers, feeling my sober head spin from the flickering lamp light and clamouring mess of voices. I spied her at the corner table, a few feet away from me, chugging a beer and pushing her coins further towards the centre.
She waved me off when I tapped her shoulder, holding up her half filled mug to be topped off.
I felt a twitch in my cheek. Scoffing to myself, I took the mug out of her hand and poured what was left of her beer into another person’s mug.
‘Aye! What’s this – Maple? What in the name of God Almighty are you…’
‘I need to talk to you.’
She swatted me away. ‘Sit on it.’
‘No, it’s about a customer!’
I held her shoulder, turning her to look at me. Her expression went cold. I let go in an instant.
She rapped her knuckles on the table top. ‘Deal me in for another round, I’ve got to take care of something.’ Gripping my forearm as she rose from her seat, Nettle began to pull me outside.
I snatched my wrist back and kept walking further away from the noise of the pub, and the smell of the drunks. ‘Someone had an allergic reaction’ I said over my shoulder. ‘Probably from the tea.’
I halted, turning to see what she’d say.
Her eyebrows crinkled. Her metal earrings jangled as she nodded. ‘Alrighty, ‘lemme get my double earnings and we can set off, no fuss.’ She pulled her wire-y grey hair into a tight bun.
‘What? Set off?’
‘Aye.’
I felt my jaw slack as I watched her reach for her money pouch, recounting her coins. Her lack of empathy wasn’t shocking. Not in the slightest. It was her lack of pride. Her lack of ego. ‘They asked for a refund,’ I muttered, offhandedly.
She bristled. ‘No. No refunds.’
Ah. There was the ego. I sighed, feeling the familiar palpitation in my chest as I tried to reason with her. ‘Nettie, she’s an old woman.’
‘I’m an old woman!’ She stepped closer, gesturing to herself. ‘You don’t see me bitching about.’
I stiffened, my chest tightening as I remembered the elder woman from before. Her gentle hand on mine. ‘She wasn’t a bitch,’ I whispered. ‘We need to do something.’
Nettle laughed, her spray hitting my face, ‘I don’t need to do anything. What I’m going to do is leave. Let’s go.’
‘Nettie, a customer was injured!’ I felt as if my eyes could not widen further. ‘That merchant’s book – the one you stole – it clearly stated that black basil could cause rash in some instances. I told you!’
‘I will sew your mouth shut if you don’t–’ I sidestepped, dodging her outstretched hand as it tried to grab my wrist again. She scoffed, ‘My sign says no refunds. I wrote it plain as day.’
‘Plain as an ant! This isn’t fair.’
‘And you think your wee ass has judgement on what is fair or not in this damned world?’ She stalked closer and I stumbled back with every step she took. ‘I have not and will never give in to every blimey squawker who’s got a stick up their–’
‘There have been more?’ A cold chill trickled down my spine.
Nettle slowed down, her bottom lip quivering. ‘Sap…’
‘How many more? How many others?’
She clamped shut, her eyes searing into mine, like she was daring me to react. And how badly I wanted to. Every hurried exit, every abandoned sale, every time she told me to stay inside while she “dealt with the competition” – there was no competition, there was only her, and the harm she’d caused. I ran a hand through my hair, laughing at the absurdity of my own ignorance for the past ten years.
‘God!’ I spat. ‘I believed you. I knew you were a fraud, but I really believed that you wouldn’t stoop this low!’
‘Shut up!’ She lunged forward, pulling me in by the collar. I bit my tongue, drawing blood into my mouth. ‘You know this is how it works.’ Her voice was a jagged whisper, a shard of stone against the smooth silence of the night.
My jaw clenched at the metallic glint of the dagger, pulled from the sheath on my belt, now held in Nettle’s hand.
She released me from her grasp, pushing me slightly. ‘You think I don’t feel? Hm? I have felt the pains of this world, Maple. It kills to care. You survive by making it through with what you’ve got, right? Well, this is what I’ve got.’
I stepped back as she spun the dagger between her fingers, finally pointing the sharp tip at my face. ‘You need to understand, we had no past. We have no future. There is no miracle. There is only now.’ The blade sliced a clean cut down the centre of her palm and the crimson liquid dripped down her hand. ‘You bleed and it means nothing. You mean nothing.’
My eyes could not leave the sight of her blood.
‘You want to leave, Sap?’
Did I want to leave?
‘Go! Go on then, you ungrateful, little… No. This youngin rebellion is enough for me.’ She tossed the bloodied dagger to the side and I watched it hit the dirt street. ‘You made your choice, Sap. Now, where’ll you go?’
I lowered my head, feeling my eyes burn with hot tears.
Nettie croaked a disparaging laugh. ‘Who else do you have? TELL ME!’
I flinched, horrified at the way she clenched her injured hand into a fist, her blood pouring from the gaps between her fingers.
But Nettle just smiled her weird smile. ‘WHO ELSE DO I HAVE ANYMORE?’
I gasped back my sobs, as I hurriedly tore an inch above the hem of my shirt, rushing forward to wrap her cut.
Nettle wheezed out a cough, masking it into a breathy chuckle. She held her palm upright, facing the sky, the moonlight making her dark blood shine. ‘See?’ She said in a gravelly, beer-stenched voice. ‘Your life was burned when I found you, Sweet Maple. You need me, Sap. We do this together.’
THE END
Manu Ilapavuluri grew up creating stories from sticks and seashells and flower petals. Regardless of her future, she can never abandon her desire to create, determined to run along with whatever spark ignites inside her mind – for every idea is worth exploring, when you want to make something worth sharing.
