Page 38 of Beyond The Maples
We sit for a moment in silence, raking over our experiences and wondering what else we've been missing. What else was right around the corner? Leo tenses his hands. He looks like his jaw's about to combust with how tightly he's clamping it. A tear rolls softly down his face.
"What's going on?" I ask gently.
Leo moves his clasped hands so his arm rests over his eyes like a mask and he takes a deep breath.
"One of my siblings died last year. Illness, they said. But... it was starvation, we all knew it. Years of malnutrition. Our family's too big. He was too little." A sob racks through him, and I make to move, but Farra's already there, sinking to the floor and leaning in on him in silent comfort.
I land on his other side, sandwiching him between us in the small space. I grab Farra's hand, squeezing, feeling my own eyes well with tears. We share a look. We know this kind of loss, have seen it run through our own towns.
The government doesn't always dole out rations per mouth, often it's per household. And clearly some towns have it worse than others.
"I'm so sorry, Leo," Farra offers him.
He whispers, "I just wish I could've enlisted sooner. Saved him. I should've gone the day I turned 18. We were waiting. For what I don't know, I think there was a hope things would get better. My mother offered, but there was no way I'd keep the littles alive. My big brother's legs don't work properly anymore. He worked for a dismantling crew, taking apart and stripping big buildings for materials. He had an accident. My older sister is already married off with her own kids to take care of. I should have done more to help sooner." He sighs, like it's a relief to say it out loud.
"It's not your fault," I say, running my hand through his soft golden curls as he takes shaky breaths, offering what little comfort I can. Because I know how I'd feel if it were me. I know that guilt like this seeps into your soul, sinking its claws into places that can forever change you.
I'm a little in awe of Leo, I realize. I'd assumed he'd lived an easy life, maybe something like Deacon's. It never occurred to me he had endured tragedy, becausehe doesn't let an ounce of his pain show. This world hardens you. It's rare to see someone like him, who's known pain and grief and regret so intimately and still manages to keep their light.
I don't know what to say, so I tell them my story. I tell them about our mom who died too young. Our boisterous dad, who was so desperate to right the wrongs of our world, that he forgot to take care of the ones who needed him. I tell them of my brilliant brother and my wild little sister; I tell them how sick she got too, how I would do anything to prevent her dying like our mother did.
I look over at them after I'm done, worried I may have overshared, exposed too much of myself. But they look at me with understanding, kindness, love, even a little admiration, and I feel tears prick the backs of my eyes again.
It's nice, this type of friendship. Farra takes a deep breath, like she's gearing up for a fight.
"I came here because I need to know what happened to my brother––and my dad. Both of them served, and for a while it was fine. Until it wasn't. My dad's drinking worsened every time he came home. He became more erratic, unpredictable.... Violent even. Until he wasn't even the same person anymore. He drank himself to death." She shakes her head and blows out a breath, like this was the best outcome, and my heart hurts for her. "My brother only served one full term. He went back for a second, but, not long after, he was discharged. He's alive, but barely, and he'll never be the same. He's only cognizant of reality about a third of the time. It's like someone... fried his brain." She's carefully inspecting her nails now, which tells me this is the part that really hurts. It's never easy watching someone you love lose themselves. The notion is familiar.
I give her hand another squeeze.
"I'm sorry," I offer, although it feels bitter on my tongue. I wish there was more I could do for both of them. Some way to help. The weight of caring for more people and wanting to help them feels heavy on my chest.
And this is the problem, isn't it? With loving people in this world. I wonder if this is the real reason I've kept people at arm’s length back home. Hollisand others had tried to connect, but I was so overwhelmed with keeping the people I already loved safe that I couldn't possibly bear more. Maybe that's why it was so easy with Deacon. He was one of the few people who required no saving, his family always peacefully in the middle.
Thoughts swirl in my head about the town, the abundance here that lacks everywhere else. How was that woman selling that perfect carrot? The produce I always saw at the Games always looked like poison.
"I... I'd like to find my dad. I know the likelihood of that is low. When people disappear in New Providence they never come back. But he just vanished one day. Poof. Went out and then never came back. It doesn't make sense, does it? People die, and there are bodies." My face scrunches up at the thought. "I just want to know either way. Not wonder anymore," I admit.
Leo looks at me, knowingly. "I'm starting to realize not a lot makes sense."
"It doesn’t. It's partially why I wanted to come here. The stories my dad and brother told never seemed real. What they told me, and what the Council broadcasts, never seemed to add up," Farra says this resentfully and without hesitation.
I had worried she was a loyalist, but with the disgust lacing her voice, I have no doubts now I can voice my thoughts to her.
"We should stick together here, do some digging," Leo suggests through a yawn. We nod but offer nothing more. The three of us stay there on the floor in comfortable silence for a long time.
We should have kicked Leo out, but he looked so peaceful as he drifted off. I didn't have the heart to do it. And if I'm being honest with myself, separating felt weird after all we'd disclosed to each other. Revealing the dark bits of ourselves to each other without judgement. As I fall asleep, I feel an unfamiliar sense of relief;I don't feel so alone.
Farra, Leo and I make our way to the courtyard the next morning, feeling a little lighter. Something irrevocably shifted in our friendship last night.
It feels less superficial. The walls of wondering where everyone stands crumbling down, and it feels nice to have people I don't have to filter myself around.
I notice Wesley, who's set up a table in the center of the courtyard and is handing something out to cadets before they start their morning routines.
As we come closer, I hear Berkley arguing with Wesley, and Wesley looking like he's about to combust as he frantically jots things down in his notebook. Berk turns abruptly, despite Wesley still talking to him, and marches our way.
As he walks past, I notice he's cleaned up his hair and beard. He looks slightly less unhinged than when we first met, his eyes brighter and his face fuller. More like a friendly neighbourhood dad. Except, of course, that now he has a scowl on his face. I give him a simple nod as he passes, knowing he's in no mood to chat. We wander towards Wesley. I suspect, whatever it is, we should just get it over and done with.
"What's going on, Wes?" Leo chirps, like they're old friends.
