Степан Мазур – Tai (*in english) (страница 8)

He knew spirits were cruel. Every tale, movie, and book warned to stay away from them. Nothing good ever came from these interactions.

“Worlds shouldn’t come in touch. This one and that one—they should keep apart!” Tai exclaimed.

“Why shouldn’t they? Brother?” his sister asked calmly.

Instead of answering, Tai cried, his throat tightened. Bitter curses and demands stayed unspoken. He desperately wanted to hug her. But reaching out for her ethereal form, he felt the same cold.

Cold and emptiness.

She’s shed her body like old clothing, the boy thought.

A pain in his chest made him long to become older and stronger, at least for his sister’s sake. As her older brother, he should tell her not to mix with pirates. But how could he tell her that after driving her away?

Clutching his fists, Tai, the boy with gray locks peeking out from under his cap, summoned his courage and shouted, “I accept your soul, Alyona! I will be your keeper. I don’t care what people or spirits say. I love you. You are my sister. I will protect you. I’m your brother!”

His sister smiled, revealing a noticeable gap where a baby tooth had recently fallen out, a detail she’d been self-conscious about, refusing to smile in photos. But now, none of that mattered.

I wonder if our digital camera could survive. I’d give anything for our family photos.

As Tai smiled back at the spirit, he suddenly felt drained of strength. His legs buckled. The sounds of the physical world assaulted his ears.

Consciousness left him, and darkness clouded his vision.

Opening his eyes, Tai saw Dalai Tisein’s puzzled face. The old man was rubbing his forehead with coconut pulp, using oils to revive him. It didn’t immediately make him feel better, but then a breeze blew, and something cold was applied to his forehead, refreshing his mind.

The monk pushed the other half of the coconut, filled with juice, to the boy’s lips. Gently supporting his head, he allowed the recovering boy to sip a few mouthfuls.

“You’re a keeper, Tai,” Tisein declared.

Collecting the oily coconut juice with his parched lips, the boy asked, “What does that mean?”

“You see unrested souls,” the monk explained. “You hear them, and you can respond. More importantly, they listen to you.”

“What should I do?”

“Think of it as a game. But remember, only those who loved you in life will mean you no harm. Others might use you, or worse—harm you.”

“How do you know all this? You didn’t see the pirate. Or my sister,” Tai remarked, draining the last of the coconut milk. The taste was overly sweet, but it quenched his thirst.

Dalai Tisein smiled sheepishly. “I must confess, I am more than a martial artist or a temple abbot.”

“How so? This is your temple, and you… you fight.”

“All these worldly clothes,” the monk said with another peaceful smile, “are merely to fulfill my primary role. Some know me as a Buddhist liberator. In the West, people like me are called exorcists.”

The boy had heard this word before, once or twice, but its meaning escaped him. “What exactly do you do?”

“I drive unrested souls and other demonic presences away from our world,” the monk elaborated. “But I can only sense them. You can do more. You can see them.”

“I can,” Tai repeated, pulling his legs in and hugging his knees. It baffled him how the old man could discuss these topics so calmly—topics that, in another setting, would’ve landed him in an asylum. Yet, his questions only multiplied.

“Why can’t you see them?” Tai squinted. “And you aren’t going to drive Alyona away, are you? She’s good. I’ve known her all my life.”

The monk shook his head. “I don’t know, Tai. I’m certain of one thing—we have much to learn from each other. I propose we work together.”

“Work together? With me?” the boy was surprised. “But I’m ten years old.”

“What does age matter? It’s ability that counts,” the monk replied, clearly having his own plans for him. “You’ll teach me to see that world. I’ll teach you to be a keeper.”

“Can you really do that? Is there even a manual for this sort of thing?”

“I learned to understand that world, Tai. After leaving professional sports, I read and studied extensively. I came across secret manuscripts and ancient books. I know things that aren’t typically spoken of, but since they exist, we must learn to deal with them.”

“Well,” Tai drew out the word, unsure what to say. “That pirate… So you’re going to teach me? And who taught you?” He squinted at the old man, guessing him to have been taught by another abbot.

“I’m self-taught,” Dalai Tisein responded. “This isn’t something that can be taught, Tai. It must be embraced. Stay in the temple, and we will learn from each other.”

“What about my home? What about Russia?”

“You said you have no one there,” the monk reminded calmly. “Where will you go? Your home is where you are.”

Tai fell silent, his mood darkening. Realizing his blunder, the monk added, “Grow stronger, and you’ll be able to decide for yourself where and who you want to be with. You can come back to your homeland whenever you wish. No one can take that away from you. But for now, it’s better to stay and learn.”

Tai gave Dalai Tisein a close look. The monk seemed uneasy, struggling to find the right words. “That other world is serious,” he tried to explain. “We can’t ignore it. But what do we really know about it? Not much, if you give it a thought. Take my offer, Tai. You have the freedom to choose your path, but it already took you to a temple of Buddha. That means you’re needed here, in the Kingdom.”

Thinking it over, Tai gave a nod. He’d never met his father’s family; his maternal grandparents had passed not long ago. His mother had no siblings; she’d inherited their house and, selling it, paid the family’s sea vacation.

He turned out to have no one but neighbors still remembering him back there. None of them would probably care to take him in instead of sending him to an orphanage where he’d rather not end up. But what other choice he had? This paradise island took away everyone who cared about him.

“I feel like a spirit myself,” the boy muttered. “Nowhere to go. No one waiting.”

“You’re not a spirit,” the old man countered. “You’re alive. More alive than ever. You’ll stay missing until the time is right. I’ll try to secure new documents for you, as a refugee.” The mentor stood and extended his hand. “Come.”

“Where?”

“It’s about to rain. It will distract you, and you need to focus. We’ll find a sheltered spot for meditation and discuss everything there.”

“Rain?” Tai looked up at the sky, which only had a couple of small clouds. The weather seemed pleasant, the sky tranquil. How could it rain?

The old monk smiled. “Trust my old bones. They’ve known many fractures. The rain will be heavy.”

Climbing the temple stairs, Tai caught his breath and gazed at the sky in bewilderment. The wind had quickly brought clouds, changing the scene as if flipping a slide in a presentation. Rain began to fall suddenly, like a wall of water. Extending his hand from under the roof, Tai watched the raindrops linger on his palm.

The abbot and the novices had disappeared. Alone, Tai rang the temple bell and watched the puddles quickly form in the courtyard.

His hands gravitated back to the bell. He felt an overwhelming urge to ring it, filling the air with its melodious sound. Tai dreaded the silence. It felt like it could rip him apart from the inside.

Touching his belly, he muttered quietly to himself, “So much void inside. It’s not noise the rain makes. It’s mourning all the dead.”

“Are they treating you okay here?” a squeaky voice asked from behind.

Tai turned around. Alyona stood there, playing with her braid, the flower-shaped clip securely in place.

“Yeah,” the boy replied, shaking his head.

He scrutinized his sister. His imagination conjured a scene of her being swept out of her bed by a massive wave, or caught by surging waters on her way to breakfast, then violently thrown against a wall, her neck twisting before she could comprehend what was happening.

Maybe she was still asleep and never understood what happened? Is that why she has no bitterness?

Yet, Tai resolved never to ask his sister if she remembered the moment of her death.

“I’ll come to you every time it rains,” Alyona added. “Is that okay?”

“Yes. I miss you. Please come,” he blurted out, then fell silent, tears welling up in his eyes. He struggled to hold them back.

“I miss you too. Don’t worry. I’m here for you,” Alyona declared and smiled again. “We’re family. A family sticks together.”

“Yeah.”

“Chin up, brother. When the sea’s calm, I’ll take you to the dolphins.”

“Okay,” the boy smiled through his tears, much like the monk often smiled.

“You can call me when on the seashore or by any water. I’ll come,” his sister promised and then vanished along with the fading rain.

Tai closed his eyes and wiped the tears away with the back of his hand. No, the rain wasn’t crying. It was his soul shedding tears. Where were they all coming from, that much water? How could he stop them?

The abbot reappeared in front of him, holding a small plastic basket filled to the brim with elongated, round, orange fruits. He pulled out a folding knife, expertly sliced open a ripe mango along its pit, and handed it to Tai. “Eat. These are mango fruit. Sweet. Juicy.”