Don't Look Back

Reflection

The day that Glen came to our home in New Boston, I glimpsed-- an apparition, perhaps, and he might as well have been, for he came and went like a whisper of the wind. As Jonas and Father were talking to Glen about the rebel movement, I was gazing after that shadow. 

For those eyes-- the eyes I saw... they just arrested me. They were an exquisite honey-brown, like resinuous amber, but with a deeper, flecked timbre that gave his eyes lovely depth. I didn't see the boy again, not until Glen left, and not until Jonas left. I could not bear to leave him, by beloved brother, behind, without so much as a farewell, so I rushed after their long-legged step-step-steps until I caught up with them at the Bridge that marked the passage from the more modern sector of the city to the ruins. 

"Jonas! Jonas!" I cried, my short, 13-year-old legs puttering against the cobblestones. "Wait for me! It's Cris!" I held basket with some long, fleece socks and bread, swinging it about the crook of my elbow. Jonas shot an embarrassed look at his new soldiers-in-arms, but I saw the twinkle in his eye that said he was happy to see me.

"Of course not, but you were nowhere to be found, little mouse!" Jonas stopped to ruffle my hair affectionately and wink at me. 

"Little mouse? Is that some kind of new thing?" I joked, burying my head in his favorite jacket, which he'd brought and worn over his clothes. "I am not a 'little mouse!'"

Jonas just laughed, and sadly ruffled my hair again. "You are my little mouse. The one who always escapes from me."

I widened my eyes. "But-- but-- you're the one going away this time!" I wailed softly. "I'm not doing anything to leave you, Jonas." 

"And yet you are. You're right though, Cris. I'm the one leaving you this time. This is one thing that I believe in, the one thing that's bigger than my life right now." Jonas sighs, droping his hand from my head. 

"Oh, Jonas." I say softly into him. "I love you so much."

"And I love you, Cristine." He mumbles. Only I could hear him. 

"Jonas!" A deep voice barked, "You might be a new recruit, but I'm not cutting you any slack." I turned, startled to see a young man about Jonas's age, wearing a deepened frown, with scuffy brown hair, green eyes, and a Grecian nose. I can feel the displeasure emanating off of him. "And you've brought your-- what, your girlfriend?-- with you, too. Unacceptable." 

"She isn't my girlfriend, Perseus!" Jonas protests, and I think I see a muscle in his face relax. "She's my sister. Cristine, this is Sergeant Perseus. Sergeant, this is-- well, obviously-- Cris." Perseus nods slightly in my direction, as if I wasn't worth speaking to. But I knew better, and I thought Jonas did, too-- he was always good at reading people. Perseus's eyes flicked towards me every once in a while. He seemed impatient, perhaps wanting me to return home. 

Or was it for another reason? I would never know. "I'm sorry for causing this holdup." I look Perseus in the eye. "I'll be going now, thank you. 'Bye, Jonas! See you... sometime, I guess." I tried to resist looking back, but I could not. When I was halfway down the cobblestone path, I glanced back.

Sergeant Perseus and Jonas were both studying me, studying my movements. Except for Jonas was glancing at me, then at Perseus, then frowning. I could make no sense of it-- and I never would, I'd expect. 

I continued my winding way back to my house... but soon decide to stop at the bookstore, temptation being too great. I greet Mistress Ellen, and she smiles her impish grin, handing off a newly recommended book-- The Greatest Struggle-- by one of my favorite authors, fresh off of the press. Not an electronic book; the Georgian State Government had attempted to return to old life, with bound books and no electronics, only AC and heating units. I rather enjoyed it, and I did not want to see it torn down...