Eloia Born

By Britta Jensen

"Loved it! A well-written narrative of disability, dystopia, and exploration...consider it a spiritual successor to Lois Lowry's The Giver and M. Night Shyamalan's

• Language: English
• Publisher: Murasaki Press
• Release date: Jan 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781732899520

Britta Jensen

Britta Jensen's novel, Eloia Born, won the 2019 Writers League of Texas YA Discovery Prize. Her stories explore themes of persevering through disability, found family and the intersection of various cultures on real and imagined worlds. Other published works include Hirana's War, Ghosts of Yokosuka, and her short story, "Why Not Ophelia?" in the Castle Anthology of Horror- Femme Fatales. For the past twenty years Britta has edited books and taught creative writing. She lived in Japan, South Korea, and Germany for twenty-two years before settling in Austin, Texas with her awesome capoeirista husband. You can learn more about her work as an editor and author at www.brittajensen.com

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NOTE TO THE READER ON BLINDNESS

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Ihave never been blind; however, my life has been surrounded by close relatives and students who are visually impaired. Notes on Blindness by John Hull was a crucial narrative in my research for the novel. Blindness can be defined, in educational realms, as a range of visual impairments. Some individuals have severe tunnel vision that turns into complete blindness at night, others have muscular disorders that render their eyesight unreliable throughout the day, and a small minority of those categorized as blind have zero vision. I did not set out for Eloia Born to be about blindness. Instead, it is a story in which the two main characters happen to be visually impaired. For the sake of the story, Leanora's visual impairment is not referred to continually. This is because when one is partially sighted, whatever one sees is understood as the norm. I beg your indulgence with the way in which visual impairment has been constructed for the sake of the story.

Part I

Asanis

Our sight blinds us to the truth of men’s hearts.—Elders of Asanis

1

Leanora

My mother said everyone has two hearts. At one point in our lives we’ll wish one would stop beating so the other can live more peaceably. I didn’t understand what she meant then. Now it’s too late to ask her.

Everyone, except father, lost their sight in the Mists that descended on Asanis nine years ago. The Mists moved swiftly—like a heavy, wet fog—clinging to our skin and rendering all of Asanis blind within a day. Hardly anyone talks about it. I don’t know if it’s because of the new technologies my mother created before she died, or because pretending that our lives are better blind will make it so.

My life before the Mists was about snatching up the beauty all around our community of Asanis: the dark pines, the wildflowers in the meadow after spring’s rains, the paintings of the ocean my mom created from her memories of Lepidaia, my birthplace.

After the Mists, I was lost, struck temporarily blind with everyone else, not understanding how to retrieve the joy I had felt in watching the seasons change in the surrounding fields and forests. However, my parents and I began to regain partial sight after a time. For a while I could only perceive shapes and shadows, sometimes glares of light. Then the slivers of time passing in the landscape became clear again and I was left with permanently poor peripheral vision and night blindness.

I closed my eyes, the birds making a racket outside, my fingers tracing the whirls and bumps on the page. T-R-A-C…then I lost my place and I had to go back. T-R-E-A-C-L or is that an E? Maybe it would be better if I was blind like everyone else, except Father. And he could touch-read fine.

Impossible. I wanted to shove the paper away, but then Agda would hear and scold me. She’d never gone to school.

Leanora, you studying? she called out from the kitchen.

Yes.

I can’t hear you reading, she cackled. She knew how terrible I was at touch-reading.

Before the Mists, reading had been the thing I was best at. Now, my poor scores made me the ridicule of the entire school.

I refocused myself, closing my eyes, trying to feel the patterns, to memorize each letter, commit it to memory. Then a sound startled me and the paper slipped onto the floor.

Bass drums pounded the air through the loudspeakers outside our house. Everyone milling about on the dirt footpaths to and from the center fields of Asanis would be stopping and waiting for the horns, the signal to recite our final daily oath, Our sight blinds us to the truth of men’s hearts.

In the kitchen, Agda, short and pudgy, ignored the drums, continuing to sing an old song from Lepidaia instead. Lua lu lai, I caught you with my eye… If father wasn’t home she never recited the oath. She continued frying chicken and saffron in one pot and beans in another. I gladly joined her private rebellion, singing louder in hopes of killing my nerves about my final exams the next day.

Usually Dex was around when we cooked dinner, but for some reason he was late. Girls at school had been bragging about what they’d done with him during the spring festival a few weeks back. I figured that since Nati and Ayli were always lying about our classmates, including me, it would make sense that they embellished their adventures with Dex. I didn’t know how to bring it up with him and maybe that was what was making me nervous, not my exams. I was running out of time to improve my scores in eight out of ten of my competency subjects. It was the final year and the only things I had to show for my studies were my perfect scores in vocal harmonies and music composition.

Agda stopped stirring. You helping, Leanora, or just singing?

Just singing. I laughed and took the chopped vegetables, dropping them carefully into another sauce pot she’d prepared. There, I just put them in the pot.

Agda put her hand on her hip. How do you know it’s the right one?

It’s the only one that has the scent of your exquisite sauce. I tapped her on the arm, so she knew I was playing with her. Agda was the one person, other than father, who I thought might suspect I could see. Still, I tried to make light of my accuracy in finding things. Father said that my half-eyesight shouldn’t be an impairment to my learning to touch-read. I often argued that Agda, who was fully blind, couldn’t touch-read to save her life and she did okay. My father was not happy with these kinds of justifications. He could see and touch-read perfectly.

Where’s that Dex boy? He’s usually here by now. She started humming again as the front door banged open and the second trumpets sounded for evening oath. I ran to the door, thinking it was Dex, but it was Father. He’d stopped for the daily oath, which wasn’t surprising since he wrote it as a way of uniting us after the tragedy of the Mists. As much as I disliked the robotic repetition of the oath, it had helped Asanis. There were no more suicides after we started the daily oath—even if it came too late to save Dex’s father.

Once the evening oath was over, father squeezed my arm and strolled past me, his tunic flapping behind him down the corridor that connected the infirmary’s complex behind the house.

There he goes again. He don’t eat dinner. I’m bringing it to him, whether he likes it or not. Agda grinned and I kissed her on the cheek, her curly red hair coming out of its loose bun. I tucked a tendril behind her ear and back into the bun.

You sweetie. Make sure you pop those kids at school. Getting meaner everyday, from my hearing at the market. Her wide smile was missing several teeth from a poor diet before she came to live with us. But to me she was the most beautiful person in the world, her light brown skin radiating joy.

Every day, when you’re singing those little ditties, you remind me of your mom. She wiped her brow. I miss her. She put her hand on my arm and sighed. Even if he don’t want to talk about it. She indicated the corridor behind us where my father had gone.

She was the only person in Asanis who would still talk about my mother fondly, as if she still lived and breathed. She sang and put her arm around me, swaying like Mom and I used to do.

The other spring day when we were walkin’… her singing voice was steady in a way her gravelly spoken voice never was. While she sang, she was transformed into a younger woman, her eyes radiant, even though they were misaligned and unfocused.

The sun was so hot, your smile so rare… I joined in. …I’m try’n be better than we really were.

Lua lu lai, why do I try? The journey below to your heart is a lie…, Agda continued.

Father came back from the infirmary and interrupted us. Dinner ready?

Agda released her hold on my waist, going back to the pots, carefully sniffing the contents and putting her navibelt earphones back in one ear.

Almost, I said, and my father flashed me a look. He moved too quickly for me to catch what the look meant. Because of my non-existent peripheral vision, if someone moved too fast I couldn’t track them. I needed most objects to be within twenty feet of my eyes and time to track what I was seeing, especially if it was something unfamiliar.

It sounds like it’s done with all that singing going on. He sounded tired, and he slumped down at the living room table, rubbing his dark face with his hands.

Rest for a little bit and we’ll all eat together, I said brightly, hoping that he could join us at least once this week. But he went into his study in the next room and started reading one of his thick books, pretending that he hadn’t heard me.

Fath—errr. I creeped up to him and nudged him on the side, trying to get a glance at what he was reading.

Daught—errrr. He tickled me and I rubbed my hand against his beard gristle. His dark brown hand against my tan one was so funny. His skin had a shine mine never had. My mother had skin like clear glass when she was alive. Father would follow her with his eyes wherever she went. It was how I knew he loved her, that look in his silver eyes, his black brows furrowed.

Now his brows were gray and his hair cut so short that I wasn’t sure what color it was anymore. I leaned my face against his bald head and it was hot and dry. Then I kissed him, to let him know that he didn’t have to work so hard. He didn’t like when I said it, so I hoped my kiss would convey the message. When my lips made contact with his cheek, he grimaced and pulled away a little. Like it pained him.

You have exams tomorrow? he asked, putting his arm around me.

Unfortunately. I wish…you see the other students…. I couldn’t say it. He’d heard it all before. Father didn’t like it when I brought up the mistreatment from my fellow students. He thought it was my fault because I listened to them; I didn’t guard my mind from their poisonous ways.

Who are you? he asked me, still looking at the book.

A healer’s daughter, I repeated, dully, hating his standard answer to my school troubles.

And what should you be?

I didn’t want to say Proud of who I am, for the billionth time, so I started to sing, hoping he’d join in. After a few refrains from Lua Lu Lai, I was still the only one singing.

Father, come on! Sing with us.

Father stopped reading and levelled his face with mine, where he knew I could see both his eyes. Only if Dex isn’t coming over. He’d started acting funny about Dex over the past eight months. Not outright rudely, just different and very detached. It made me wonder, sometimes, if he’d changed how he felt about me too.

He’s my only friend, you know.

Father gently held my head so I couldn’t look away. His eyes were soft, all the flint of the day’s toil gone from them. I know. I wish you and Theres—

I pulled away from him when he mentioned my old best friend from before the Mists. She left me to my tormentors.

Leanora, stop being dramatic. He hummed the refrain from Lua Lu Lai again, then stopped. Agda, can you tell me why you and Leanora insist on singing so many sad songs?

Agda hummed along with him and didn’t answer. She never answered him when she thought he wouldn’t like her replies. I hadn’t yet learned how to do that.

It’s because we miss Mom. It’s our way of remembering her.

Father put his hand on my shoulder and sang along with me, a memory of my mother singing with us surging through me.

"The gracken caws,

The marlbird sings so sweet,

Singing your praises, when shall we meet?

Lua lu lai come back my prize

Do not deny all that we once were…"

We harmonized on the last line, The journey below to your heart is a lie…, and our voices faded away on the final refrain. It was almost as good as the times when Mom sang with us. The memory surging through me ended when father let go of me. When I looked at him, his eyes were moist and I hugged him tight. I couldn’t remember seeing a memory of her so clearly before. Father turned away before I could ask about what I’d seen.

Arms grabbed me from behind and swung me around. Dex?! He sang Lua Lu Lai, mixing up the lyrics before putting me down. His voice was out of tune and Father stood stock still when Dex almost knocked him over on his way to embrace me. I was glad he hadn’t tried to kiss me on the cheek. I should have told him Father was there.

Did I hear a dog yowling instead of trying to sing properly? Father joked before taking Dex’s hand and greeting him. You’re late. We’ve eaten all the food and you’ll have to settle for some roasted nuts.

I’ll take what I can get, sir, Dex answered, a slight wobble in his normally radiant smile.

I tried to change the subject. Everyone’s gathering at the lake for a bonfire. Maybe you can both come with us.

Agda poked me. You have exams tomorrow and your father is busy saving us and the cattle from disease. Everybody, sit down so the food don’t get cold. Dex boy, you come here and help me.

Dex moved the controls on his navibelt before followed her, touching my shoulder lightly on his way to the kitchen. As usual, he wouldn’t let me help. Keep singing, we’ll take out the food, he insisted.

Once we were settled, he sat next to me and squeezed my hand under the table, I squeezed back and tried to keep from giggling. Agda kept trying to put more food on my plate. I’m fat enough. Eat more, skinny girl.

Father watched me while I ate, not saying anything, looking strained. It kept me from doing what I liked, which was watching Dex: his clothes dusty, his tunic showing a little too much skin, his muscles thicker with each passing day. I didn’t like that look in Father’s eyes and how they hardened at the edges when he caught me smiling at Dex. Recently, Father had taken to pointing out that Dex had food on his face when there was nothing there.

No one, except Father, knew that I could still see. Mom had taken this secret with her to her grave and now I was obliged to keep it.

As always, Agda finished eating first and had started to clear the leftovers. Dex got up to help, humming another song. Usually Father left to go back to the infirmary, but when he stood he put his hand on my shoulder, keeping me from getting up.

Dex, Agda, you hear me?

Yes. The water stopped.

Father moved to the kitchen’s opening. Dex, make sure you pick up Leanora early for exams tomorrow. I’m tempted to match her if she doesn’t pass her touch-reading.

Dex came out, drying his hands on a towel. You can’t be serious.

Father had joked about such things in the past, but his silver eyes were hard and opaque. She’s sixteen—that’s old enough—and what will another year of school do for her if she’s not doing well in the important subjects?

But she’s a healer’s daughter.

Even the healer’s daughter has to follow the rules.

I stood up. There was no way I was going to be matched.

Janzi’s father and I spoke today.

Janzi is a no-good, stupid— Father stopped Agda.

We’ll take it from here, Agda.

Agda didn’t move for a while, turning between the two of us. She always stood up for me. When Father gave her the earphones to her navibelt and turned up the volume, she snatched it away from him, refusing to put in her earphones. She slowly shuffled away, humming on her way to her room. I wished she had stayed.

Father put his hand on my shoulder. Leanora, you’ll have to pass your last exams tomorrow.

I can’t be matched with Janzi. He’s….

…a complete moron. Dex finished for me. He came to stand next to me and put his arm around me, taking me out of Father’s reach. The tension in the room felt like it was going to drown out any other sound. Outside, a group of teenagers strolled by, playing drums and singing. The younger kids had already finished their exams, giving them an extra two days before the farmers and cattle drivers put us to work in the fields and forests to start the summer gathering, planting and tending. Everyone, even the older kids with exams due the next day, was headed to the lake to celebrate.

Leanora needs to stay behind and rest. You go on with the others to the lake, Dex. My father tried to make his voice light, but I knew it was a command, not a suggestion.

Dex lingered at my side, took my hand and kissed it lightly. Tomorrow morning, then. He stood there, his light blue eyes unfocused, but his whole face turned toward me in expectation. I didn’t want him to go and didn’t know how to make him stay. I followed him to the door, afraid to touch him while my father was watching us. Once he finally closed the front door between us, I confronted my father.

Why can’t I tell him that I can see? What’s wrong with telling the truth?

He didn’t answer for a while, then exhaled, meeting my gaze with his silver eyes. Asanis changes slowly. Your mother and I saw that when we came from Lepidaia. But we knew we had a great work to do here. I still do. He paused and cleared his throat. He hadn’t spoken about Mom in such a long time that I was afraid he might lose control.

Someday all the changes, the matching system, everything I’ve worked so hard to make here in Asanis will make sense. He looked away from me and turned toward the kitchen. He started washing the dishes. It had been years since I’d seen him do any sort of kitchen work. I picked up a towel and dried. He was so thorough he didn’t miss a single bit of food sticking to the pans or plates. When he was finished he stood and looked at me. All the warmth was gone from his face, every muscle tight with strain.

Father… I put my hand on his sleeve and he pulled away.

Your mother was too indulgent with you about your music. I am serious about Janzi. If you fail your exams you will be matched. His silver eyes flashed at me and it was hard to hold his gaze. There are no apprenticeships for female musicians and you and I both know you can’t work the fields the rest of your life.

When I started to speak, he turned and walked out of the kitchen without saying another word. It wasn’t like him not to hear my side of things. How had I made him feel so differently about me in such a short period of time? I stood there for a long time, waiting for him to come back, hoping there was some way for us to change the rift that had started between us. I ran down the corridor connecting the house to the infirmary. When I reached for the doorknob, the lock was turned at the opposite end.

Father, let me in. Please.

He didn’t answer. I had been forbidden in the infirmary since my mother’s death. Why would today be any different?

2

Dex

If I admit I love her, I will lose her.

The one honorable act of my seventeen-year-old life, I was convinced, was waiting to happen. Too much of my life in Asanis was lived waiting for a future where most of my choices had been altered by the Mists. When you’re born seeing and your vision is taken away, you think of everything in terms of what you remember you used to see: Leanora used to be pale with red splotches on her arms and neck that her father couldn’t get rid of.

I used to be a darker brown than my older brother Nicu.

The little ones are so lucky, being born blind. They have no idea what they’re missing. They can’t ache for what they don’t know. But I still remember. Leanora is the only one I can talk to about the old wildflowers. She describes them so beautifully, like their perfumed scent can bring all the colors back into our lives.

Asanis has a thick forest with hot summers and mild winters. We sometimes prayed for snow, but rarely got it. The icy weather likes to stay in the mountains to the west and north of us. Without seeing the forest, only feeling its oppressive darkness and scratchy things, I sometimes wonder if it has changed. I seem to be the only one in my family who cares about such matters. Perhaps I want to see the forest because the last time I beheld it I was untying my father’s dead body—from where he’d hung himself from an oversized old birch—so my mother wouldn’t know how he’d died. Leanora and I found him together, in the forest surrounding our neighborhood in Easterly where she used to live next door to me. I still resided in the same small collection of wooden shacks almost everyone except the farmers lived in.

For some reason, in that worn shack with leaky windows, my mother loved my father—who never deserved her. Her kind face, like Leanora’s, is frozen in time, never growing old. The Mists should have felt like ages ago, but nine years later, you would think I’d have adjusted to the darkness by now.

Mostly I’m mad that I’ll never get to see the girls at school naked—now that they’ve grown up. I have to settle for fleeting moments of caressing their skin when it’s slick with perfumed sweat. Sometimes, the bright daylight will play a trick on my damaged eyes and I’ll think I can see something other than a shadow and I’ll trip over myself and cause the girl I’m kissing to fall. For a second, I expect to see something glorious and then the moment is gone.

What good is it for a girl to take her clothes off when she goes swimming if you can’t see her in her naked glory? Or, behold the pleasure in her eyes when she has given you her hand for the first time?

A look I’ll never see in Leanora’s face.

Dex, is that you? A girl calls out to me on the footpath. It doesn’t matter who it is right now. I pick up the pace, making certain the identify button is off on my navibelt.

I hate my inability to control this part of myself. The fact I can’t tell Leanora, whom I used to spill my guts about everything, haunts me everywhere I go. We didn’t used to have secrets and now it feels like the wall of them is eroding everything I feel for her.

I think I can see the pleasure in Leanora’s voice. In my mind, I mean.

I could turn back now. I could go back to her house and say what needs to be said.

No, it can wait. After our exams.

In the morning, I will slip into her house and cook breakfast with Agda’s help. When she tastes my spice stew, her voice has this lightness I don’t hear anywhere else, and it’s like all the forest around us is singing inside that stupidly enormous house she lives in. I’ll feel like I’m floating. If my brother Nicu could see me he’d never let me hear the end of it.

I probably wouldn’t care, because I am such a different, better person in her presence. I want to reach down and break the barrier that keeps me from treating her like all the other girls I’ve messed around with. But then, what would we have to look forward to? If I admit I love her, I will lose her.

I can give up the other girls, all too anxious to touch my bare chest and experience what everyone whispers about. But I couldn’t be that other person around Leanora. She was with me in the beginning when everything was taken away from us.

We’re the only ones who know that my father committed suicide during the Mists. The last thing I saw after we untied his body was her, standing in the early morning forest, her dark, liquid black eyes afraid, her hand closing around mine.

We have to cover him before he’s found, she’d whispered. We were so young. Too young to see that. But she had stayed there with me, covering his body.

Leanora is the only reason I am able to feel any love and compassion at all. She doesn’t care that I sing like a frog and can’t afford a new tunic. I couldn’t bring her down to where I’d been with other girls, then.

I walked further into the forest, the branches catching on my shorts. I hated myself for not taking the chance to tell Zer I wanted to be matched with her. Wasn’t I