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Boy wanted to touch all the controls at the helm and on the friction engine – the engine really fascinated him. Where did that rapid whine come from? What would happen if he stuck his finger in?
He held his fingers near the rotating wheels but then pulled them back when Liberty glared at him. The temptation to touch something ate at him. He finally put his hands behind his back and stood in place, staring at Liberty. Maybe if he stared long enough she would let him steer.
“Stop staring and go do something useful.”
Here was his chance. “I can steer. That’s useful.” He was too excited to blink. Boy crossed his fingers and waited.
Liberty stared back at him now. What was she thinking? Was she going to throw him overboard or let him steer? That would just about be the best thing that could ever happened to him, steering, besides being born of course, and the day he became the Keeper, and the day he got his very own sister.
“No. You don’t know how to operate an airship.”
Here was something he could argue against. He had her now. “You could teach me.”
Liberty sniffed and turned her nose up. “No.”
The fact she hadn’t gotten up and thrown him overboard gave him even more hope. “Please.”
She slapped the arm of the captain’s chair. “Damn it. I knew it. I told myself back at Shatters you were going to be as annoying as hell. I should have left you there, sweeping his storeroom.”
Even though she was angry and he should have moved away, he stepped forward. “Why do you always say damn? Am I going to hell? Are you going to hell?” His father had told him about heaven and hell. What would happen if he went there? Was being annoying a good enough reason to send him to such a place because, if it was, he would try to be better.
Liberty smacked her forehead with her palm. “I feel like I’m already in Hell, but that’s not why I say it. I curse because it makes me feel better. It’s like shooting tiny, little poison darts out of my mouth. I picture them shooting into whatever pisses me off.”
Boy quickly glanced around the base of the captain’s chair. He knew people pissed but had never seen it before. He was disappointed to see there was no urine anywhere, certainly not running down from the base of the chair. Maybe if he waited long enough she would.
“Pisses? So you’re urinating while those darts are shooting?” Boy was too excited to move.
“Whatever did I do to deserve you?” She tapped on the altimeter, as if too annoyed to look at him any longer.
“Both of our fathers died.”
That statement drew her attention back to him. Liberty gave the altimeter another forceful tap. “So what do you want to know about flying?”
Boy stared at her, too excited to speak for the moment. Finally, he said, “Everything.”
Liberty stood and motioned for him to climb into the captain’s chair. Once in place, she put his hands on the wheel. “Hold here and here, and please don’t get us killed.”
Most of the day passed in a blur of excitement. Boy stayed at the helm, Liberty standing nearby, watching his every move. He wanted to stay there all night but a storm blew in, ruining his plans.
“Go inside. I’ll keep watch tonight.” Liberty helped Boy out of the captain’s chair and waved him toward the cabin.
“But I want to stay here with you. That’s what brothers and sisters do; they stick together through thick and thin.” While he stood waiting for an answer, raindrops plopped onto the deck and the top of his head.
Liberty reached over and wiped them off his face. “Not tonight. I don’t know if you’re waterproof or not.” She patted his head. “Go on now. We’ll discuss the brother and sister thing tomorrow.”
Boy wanted to argue but the expression on her face clearly said she wasn’t up to arguing. One of the things his father had taught him was that he needed to learn to pick and choose his battles. Maybe this was one of those times when he needed to walk away.
Without Liberty knowing, Boy stood in the doorway to the cabin and kept an eye on her the entire night. It was frustrating to be stuck inside, but he respected her wishes. How was he supposed to watch over his sister if she treated him like he was too fragile to stay by her side no matter what the situation or weather? He stood in the doorway until he eventually felt himself winding down.
No longer afraid of approaching her, Boy went out to stand beside the captain’s chair. “I feel myself getting slower. Would you wind me up, please?”
Liberty jumped clear out of the chair. “Damn. I should never have oiled your joints last night. I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”
He turned so she could reach his back and waited, only turning once she’d finished. She looked exhausted, only to be confirmed when she stretched and yawned.
“Do you think you can keep an eye on things while I take a nap? I’m fit to drop and need to get out of these wet clothes.”
Boy was so happy that she was going to trust him with her life and the airship that he was rendered speechless for a moment, finally uttering, “I remember, and if something happens I don’t understand, I’ll wake you.”
Too afraid she might change her mind, Boy quietly climbed into the captain’s seat.
She positioned his hands on the wheel and patted his head. “Okay. I’m trusting you, so don’t let me down, okay?’
“Okay.” He was so excited that Liberty had decided to trust him, but also knew deep down in his heart that this didn’t mean she was ever going to love him like his father had. Shatter had called him a bucket held together with bolts. What if his sister thought of him in the same way? Did she see him as just a machine she could trust to watch over things while she slept?
When she turned to leave, he said, “No one is ever going to love me again. Are they?”
Liberty turned back and looked at him for a moment before asking, “Why do you say that?”
How could he not? There were no indications that she ever would. If she loved her father half as much as he had his, then she was bound to do her best to follow the rules he had put in place to keep her safe. Boy couldn’t blame her, but it still hurt, knowing he was doomed to a life without love.
“You said your father told you never to love anyone. I’m glad mine taught me to love, but I wished he’d also taught me to breathe. I like watching people breathe. I wonder why father didn’t create a way for me to do so?” Maybe if he could breathe people would stop assuming he was nothing more than a tiny robot devoid of feelings.
Liberty leaned forward and patted his head, her face filled with kindness when she said, “Look,” and rubbed the side of his face. “I’m good at breathing and you’re good at loving. If you will love enough for us both, I will breathe enough for us.” She cupped her hand underneath his chin and smiled.
Boy wanted to tell her how beautiful she was when she smiled, but looked away from her smile and into her eyes. “I will love.”
Her smile widened. “And I will breathe.”
But Boy suspected there was more to Liberty than she let him see. He suspected she was capable of loving him if only she’d try.