I examined Kiwi. “I think it’s his hair. The medicine can’t get to his lungs.” I called to William over my shoulder. “Find me a razor!”

He left without a word.

“Arika,” Kiwi rasped.

I sat, and untied my pallium. “Hush now. We’ll talk when you’re better.” I draped my cloak over his body, and he relaxed in my embrace.

My arm fell asleep where it held him. My breath caught between each of his.

After several minutes, he opened one eye. “Arika?”

“I’m here, Kiwi. We’re waiting for the ventilator.”

“No time,” he said. “I got to speak. Sit me up, girl.”

“Not now. Now, you rest,” I urged.

“Up!” he insisted. “If I lay back, the memory will leak from my ears.”

“Leak from your—?” I gave a choked laugh and wiped away a tear. “Oh, Kiwi.” Hugging him close, I shifted my legs and maneuvered his frame until his upper body was propped on my crossed legs. He rested there a moment.

“I came as soon as possible, Kiwi.”

He nodded. “I say to myself, I must tell Arika. I must not leave it untold.”

“You mean your story from earlier is unfinished?” I said, finally understanding why I’d been called instead of Hosea.

“You have more to say.” Seeing he was determined to speak, I propped him higher on my knees, so the words would come easier. “Is that better?”

He nodded, forced a deep breath, then spoke. “I remember when I was a boy; I was not yet in the field. Too small, no use for the quota, see? My brothers—we ran naked, like chickens. We got some clothes, if we were lucky. But we were not much lucky. I had no pants,” he confessed. “Just a shirt I wore like a dress and my brothers—they poke at me. Kiwi is a woman! I had no shoes, but they said nothing about this. Only about the dress—Kiwi is a woman!”

My heart clenched, hearing the shame in his voice.

Kiwi went on. “So one night, we sneak out and look for clothes. We did this many nights, but each night, I came back with only my dress. Then, one day, we saw a pair of britches hanging from a clothespin. Boy-o! I had them britches on like that.” He wheezed out a chuckle. “They fit too big. I tied them up with rope. But, I had pants.”

He wheezed for a while then cleared his throat. “Night came, and my brothers—they go to look for more. They call me to come, but I said, ‘No thanks.’ I was happy with my pants, see? Too happy, I think.”

“How can you be too happy?” I asked.

A fat tear rolled from one eye to the fold of his black mask.

“When you forget you have no shoes,” he said. “That is when you are too happy.”