"Please forgive us! We have allowed her to stray from moral ground!" my mother wailed.
My father glared down at me. "This is what happens when you say stupid things. You have brought shame upon us! It was that filthy traveler, I tell you. He put these imbecilic ideas in your head!" My father grabbed me by the arm and, dragging me behind him, went looking for Kino.
Kino was outside the rear entrance. Standing next to him was the motorcycle, sparkling like new. It was hard to believe it had been junk just two days before. Kino's oversized backpack was strapped behind the back seat, shaking in time with the engine's vibrations. The back tire didn't touch the ground, but spun in the air, suspended from the kickstand. Draped across the seat was the brown coat Kino had been wearing when he entered the village. It was clean now, but no less worn.
My father screamed at him, shaking me so hard my teeth rattled, "You there! Yeah, you... dirt-ball!"
When Kino turned to him with unruffled calm, my father’s fury shifted to madness, and he shrieked, sounding more animal than human.
Kino looked down at me and said quietly, "This is what the operation gives you? Perhaps you're better off without it." He winked at me.
I giggled. In an instant, my mind felt clear and calm. I was resolved.
"You! You!" My father shook his clenched fist at Kino, spittle and froth flying from his mouth.
Kino regarded my father with the patience of a saint. "Yes?"
"Yes? Yes? I'll give you 'yes!' On your knees! Beg for pardon! From me! From everyone in this town!"
Cocking his head to the side, Kino asked, "Forgiveness? Whatever for?"
In answer, my father howled again. His face was red, and his whole body shook. I looked up into this proper grownup's face. He didn't look any different than I did when I'd had a fight over something stupid with a friend and run home crying.
He was about to yell something else, or possibly just howl again, when a voice cut in, "I think that's enough." It was a village elder.
I didn't exactly know what his proper title was at that time, but I knew he was an important man. His manner was as different from that of these frenzied adults as could be. Was there, I wondered, an operation for that too?
The village elder spoke to Kino. "Traveler, in every village, in every home, there are different customs. You know this."
It was not a question, but Kino answered, "I do."
"In this village too, we have our own customs. These customs are ancient and are not to be altered by any actions you take. I'm certain you see that."
Kino's shoulders slumped. "I do. I was just leaving your village, Elder. If I stay here any longer, I'm liable to be killed. Are there protocols I must observe in order to leave?"
The elder said there were not. "If you go straight that way," he said, pointing in the direction that the motorcycle was facing, "you'll reach a gate. Use it. But I don't believe your life is in any danger. You entered this village properly, following the procedures. I guarantee your safety until you are through the gate. This is the Land of Grownups, after all."
Kino turned toward me, crouched down, and looked into my face. I became dimly aware that my father no longer stood over me. "Goodbye, little flower," Kino said.
"Do you have to leave?" I wanted him to stay longer. I wanted to know him after my operation. I wanted to talk to Kino as an adult.
But Kino said, "I only stay three days in any one place. You can learn almost everything about most places in that length of time. Besides, if you stay longer than that, you won't be able to visit as many new and different lands. Goodbye. Be well."
I waved at him, and Kino was about to climb aboard the motorcycle when my father reappeared, carrying a long, thin carving knife. My mother was behind him, weeping and wringing the front of her blouse.
Kino turned around.
My father looked at the village elder, holding the knife up for his inspection. The elder nodded.
I gazed at my father, thinking only how strange it was that he had a carving knife outside. It was just so out of place.
Kino asked the village elder why my father had brought a knife.
The elder, in the same precise and detached tone of voice he had been using all along, spoke the most dreadful words, "He will use the knife to dispose of the girl."
All color drained from Kino's already pale face. "What?"
"She has denied her need for the operation and disobeyed her parents. A child like that can hardly be left to run wild. Children are at all times, for very good reason, the possessions of their parents. Parents made their children, and they have every right to dispose of a flawed one."
That was when I realized that my father intended to kill me. I didn't want to die, but there was nothing I could do about it. I looked up and saw an expression on my father's face I had never before seen.
"Good for nothing." he whispered, and his words held pure hatred.
"Traveler. Please step aside. It is dangerous here," the village elder said.
My father came at me with the knife. I saw the silver blade glisten, and thought, How pretty.
Then the world went silent and time slowed down to a mere crawl. I saw Kino dive toward me from the side, trying to stop my father's lunge. But the knife was coming at me too fast.
Thank you, but you're too late.
The blade was inches from me when my father twisted it to one side and caught Kino in the chest as he dove between us. It slid into his body.
Sound returned, and I heard a strange cry. Kino stood as if embracing my father, the end of the carving knife protruding from his back. He fell at my feet, the knife still stuck in him. His body hit the ground with a dull thud and lay still. I knew he was already dead.
There was a gasp from the gathered villagers, followed by a long silence.
Unable to think, I took a few steps backward and collided with the motorcycle. It wobbled on its stand but remained upright.
The n my father laughed. He looked around him, and said, "You saw it! You saw how this man leapt between us. There was no time for me to turn away. I meant to kill my daughter, you know that. But I killed him instead." He turned to the village elder. "What should we do about such a horrible accident?"
I knew what my father said was absurd. Every grownup there knew it as well. They all eyed each other. They looked at my parents, then at the elder.
After a moment, the elder said, "Well, the traveler did jump in the way of the knife, so I suppose there's nothing to be done. It's not as if you tried to stab him. It was, as you've correctly said, an accident. A very unfortunate accident. You are guilty of nothing. Does everyone agree?"
The grownups around them nodded, their eyes blank and wide. "Yes, of course, it was an accident. Very unfortunate. Very sad.” they kept saying.
My father bowed to the village elder. "And this wicked child?"
The elder turned his dark eyes to me. They were like chips of onyx – flat, black, silent. "You may dispose of her. If there is anyone to blame for the traveler's death..." He shrugged, and turned away.
My father bow ed. a second time and said, "Your wisdom brings me much contentment."
My mother merely stood behind him, staring at me with her hands over her mouth. She said nothing, this woman who had once called me her "little flower," just as Kino had... before he died.
Even though I knew they would kill me, at that time, I was happy that at least I was to die without the operation – without becoming a "proper grownup."