99

I took Tamara on the safety tour first. Down to the cliff so she knew the danger of walking at night. I showed her the shirt I tied to the tree and mimed being lost, finding the shirt and pointed North, toward the camp. She tapped her temple and smiled.
The snow was melting quickly as the sun reached its zenith. The trees protected a lot of it, so we would probably still have water the next morning. We traveled east, looking for supplies and rocks. Tamara thought ahead and brought an empty suitcase to carry what we found. Being a man, I tried to carry it for her. She snatched it back, pointed at her breasts and then put her hand on her hip with an expression of disgust. I smiled and raised my hands in surrender. “Yes, because you’re a woman. It won’t happen again.” She smiled when I understood. She would pull her weight whether I liked it or not. She was so damn intriguing.
We found a wheel assembly that had been ripped from the plane. I saw nothing of value, but Tamara was able to salvage some of the wiring at its base. Three, two foot long colored wires that might come in handy. I tapped my temple to her.
Rocks were hard to find. A lot of the stone we saw was structured in layers and would flake. Slowly we gathered some useful solid rock as the snow melted and exposed them. I was walking, looking at the ground when I realized that Tamara had stopped. I turned and saw her standing by the suitcase, looking at it like she didn’t know what it was. I moved back to her, shrugging my shoulders to let her know I wondered what was going on. She blushed a bit, pointed at me then back at the suitcase.
I grabbed the handle and lifted what was now a very heavy rock-laden carrying case. I put it back down and gave my best impression of Tarzan and beat my chest. I enjoyed making her laugh. The irony of her having to give up her women-are-equal for a brief moment was forgotten as we laughed together. I hefted the case with both arms and decided it was time to head back. I wasn’t going to admit the case was nearing my weight limit as well. I liked being stronger since she was beginning to seem smarter.
On our way back, I spotted the shoe. Tamara picked up the small tennis shoe and nodded her head and cradled her arms. I set down the suitcase, and we began a quick search of the area. I was again surprised by the lack of deep emotion from Tamara. She obviously had an interest in finding her child, but there was none of the misery I had expected. I was upset that she wasn’t upset when we gave up the search an hour later. His shoe may have been here, but his body was not. There was always the slim chance he was with another survivor. Alone, I didn’t see him lasting a night.
Tamara took a deep breath, sighed with one last look around then pointed back to our camp. I hefted the suitcase and followed her. She was rather callous for a mother, the first unpleasant thing about her. My impression of her was changing and not for the better. If it were my son, I would be cursing God to fight the anger and grief, not shrugging it off as an unwelcome loss.
We set the rocks we had gathered around the fire. Close enough to absorb the heat, but not so close as to be easily blackened. Tamara smiled at me while we worked. I didn’t smile back, and she noticed. I shouldn’t be judging her, but I was. I couldn’t understand her uncaring attitude toward the death of her child. Without thinking, Tamara tossed her son’s shoe toward our hovel. She didn’t even look where it landed.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I shouted. The shoe was the only thing she had found of him.
Tamara was startled and looked at me like I was insane. She shrugged her shoulders and said something that sounded like a question. Her eyes narrowed along with mine. I stood and retrieved the shoe and pointed it at her. She shrugged again. I threw the shoe at her. Not hard, but the throw contained my obvious disgust.
Tamara stood and backed away. I saw some fear in her eyes. I raised my hands, palms out to stall her panic. It didn’t. She began yelling at me and pointing at the shoe. Her finger made circles around the side of her head. She thought I was the crazy one.
I pointed at the shoe then made a motion with my hands to indicate a pregnant belly on me. Cradling my arms, I then rocked an imaginary baby. I followed with the plane crash, one hand flying into the other. I pointed at her and imitated shrugging off the death of her child. “How can you be so damn cold?” I watched her think. “What would your husband say?” I added, miming putting a ring on my ring finger. Tamara shook her head and tried to erase my mime with her hands.
Tamara duplicated my ring gesture and shook her head. She wasn’t married. She copied my pregnant movement and pointed at the shoe shaking her head while speaking desperately. It wasn’t her child. She reached into the fire and retrieved a stick that hadn’t begun to burn, moved over to the log and sat down, waving me over to sit next to her. I did.
Tamara drew a stick figure in the dirt. Another next to it. She added a heart above then drew a smaller, child, figure next to the parents. She looked at me and I nodded my head, the shame beginning to show on my face. I shouldn’t have judged her so quickly. She drew a line through the heart, breaking it. Using her hands, she made angry PacMan like chompers, facing each other, symbolizing a bickering couple. The tone of her words emphasized her play. She drew an arched line from one of the parents to about a foot away, then redrew the figure there and erased the original. I nodded, recognizing a divorce.
Tamara drew another figure between the parents and pointed at herself. I nodded. She drew a symbol above her stick head that I didn’t recognize. She thought for a moment then replaced it with the Euro symbol. I borrowed the stick and drew a dollar sign above that. She smiled and nodded. She drew a line from her to the child, then moved the stick back and forth between the parents. It was her job to transport the child between the parents who must have moved far apart from each other. I was a fool.
I took Tamara’s hand in mine, patted it and tried to look contrite. “I’m sorry I misjudged you.” She squeezed my hand and smiled. I was forgiven. She pointed at her rendition of the child, made an arch across the sky, symbolizing a day and held up two fingers. She had only known the boy for two days. Enough time to feel sad, but not long enough to fully bond. Her empathy was normal. My idiocy was reaching new heights. For some reason, I repeated the ring gesture and shook my head. “I’m not married either.” I could have sworn she blushed.
I stood and grabbed the cook pot. I filled it with snow that was protected from the sun by the trees. We would have water today and possibly tomorrow morning. After that, we were at the mercy of the weather. Tamara relieved me of the pot and set it near the fire.
While the snow melted, Tamara tied the ends of wires together to create a six-foot length. She went to the wood pile and found a stick about three feet long and an inch thick. I watched her work, wondering what she was thinking. She gave me a sly smile, proud of what she was creating and having fun watching me try to figure it out. She took one of the old man’s long sleeve shirts and used the stick like a hanger. She held up her creation to me.
“You made a hanger?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders. Tamara bit her bottom lip to hold back her smile. I think she didn’t want me to feel stupid. She pointed toward the cliff then walked over to a small tree and mimed tying off the other end of the wire, then tossing the shirt over the cliff. Ingenious! A symbol announcing our location. Something that could be seen from the air if a plane was searching in the valley. I rose smiling, pointing at her and tapping my head. “You are one smart woman.” A smart woman with a glorious smile.
We went to the cliff immediately and found a suitable tree that was close enough to the edge, but a small enough diameter to not need a lot of the wire to be secured. Tamara laid down and lowered the shirt over the edge. When she squirmed back and rose, her prideful smile had grown. It was infectious. I held out my hand, and she folded hers into it. I walked Ms. Einstein back to the camp. The first pot of water was on me.
As the sun went down, we went to work on setting up the hovel for the night. Using our sock mittens, we loaded the hot rocks into the suitcase and hauled them into the hut. We placed them in two piles, front and back. Hopefully, that would make them last the longest. We brought in everything we had. No need to expose our necessities to the weather. When it was done, I let Tamara enter first and pick a side. I crawled in and sealed the entrance as I had the night before. It was nearly pitch black, which I assumed was what Tamara was commenting on.
I moved to my side, accidently crawling on Tamara for a moment. “Sorry.” She giggled and pushed me lightly to my side. We organized the blankets blindly, and we both lay on our backs. I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject about conserving our body heat by sharing. Now that she was awake, I would need permission. Without a shared language, it would be difficult to explain. If it got cold, it would be a necessity.
Tamara shifted, I sensed toward me. Her hand found my arm and she pulled me toward her. Ms. Einstein already figured it out. I rolled toward her, and she laughed and gently rolled me back. She would spoon into me. I assumed it made her feel more chaste. I rolled to the other side and tucked myself back into her. Her arm reached around me and drew me close. She snuggled her hips toward mine and reset the blankets. A few whispers of something I didn’t understand and she became motionless. “Good night, Tamara,” I whispered and closed my eyes.