Republican Phenoms

Soup

June

My brother died last night.

"Love you, Junebug," was the last thing that he ever said to me. The last time I ever heard his voice. It's hard to believe that he's gone now.

Metias had gone to work last night, guarding the hospital. He was supposed to be back late, but instead, Thomas knocked on my door. He said that he had to take me to the hospital; that my brother had died.

Someone had poisoned him.

He looked so peaceful, lying in the hospital bed. They had tried to save him, but the poison had already stopped his heart. He was already gone.

Tonight, I'm thumbing through our old photo albums and looking at some of Metias's handwritten journals. He used to keep all of his journals on paper, even though he had been an expert hacker. He told me that handwritten documents couldn't be tracked, that they were safer. I have one arm draped over Ollie and a box of tissues at my side. I allow myself to grieve.

Earlier in the day, there had been a small announcement on the Jumbotrons about my brother's death. I suppose that normally, a Captain's death wouldn't warrant a notice on the Jumbotrons, but since it looks like his death was a murder, it made the news. You don't murder an officer in the Republic without at least a small mention of his death on the news.

I saw Commander Jameson, his boss, when I was at the hospital, and she looked at me sympathetically. "We'll find out who did it," she promised.

I hear a knock at my door. I put down my photo albums. Maybe it's Thomas again, coming to check up on me.

It's Daniel. He looks pathetic as he stands there on his crutches, soaking wet, with a tote bag slung around his neck.

"I heard about your brother," he says. "I'm so sorry. My mom made you some soup."

"What the hell, Daniel?" I exclaim, removing the tote bag from around his neck. "Were you trying to get yourself killed out there?" They cut the power to the residences last night, so I know the elevators weren't working. Not only did he take the train from his little home in Lake to here, but he also walked up five floors of stairs -- on crutches. With a heavy tote bag around his neck.

He laughs. "My mom says I was cracked to want to come."

"Yeah, probably." In Daniel's tote bag is an old, dented soup pot. I set it down on the counter.

The pot is probably older than he is. It's probably the only soup pot his family owns, I realize. He had his mom make me a pot of soup, he carried it across town on crutches, and walked up five flights of stairs, just to try to make me feel better?

I think of the very first thing I ever said to him. An insult. I never apologized for it. I've never been particularly nice to him. Even still, he's never been anything but nice to me. I don't deserve it.

I start to cry. Not because of my brother, although I've done plenty of crying for him over the last seventeen hours and thirty-five minutes, that's for sure, but because of all the guilt I feel at this moment. I should have treated Daniel better than I have.

He hobbles over and puts his arms around me. I rest my head on his chest.

"I know that some goddy soup isn't going to bring your brother back," he says, running his hands along my back, "but my mom says that at least there'll be one less thing for you to worry about if you don't have to feed yourself." He thinks I'm crying about my brother. Good.

"Your mom is a smart lady."

Other than Thomas, Daniel has been the only person to visit me today. All of my other classmates have cars; Daniel has the train and a pair of crutches. Nobody else cared enough to even call, let alone bring me food in his family's only soup pot.

"Thank you," I say, crying. "I'm so sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" He pulls me even closer to him.

"I've been horrible to you since we first met. I never apologized for insulting you when I first met you, even though... I stopped feeling that way about you a long time ago. Will you forgive me?"

"I did that a long time ago."

I want to kiss him, and to be kissed by him. I put his hands on his neck, and pull his face to mine. I kiss him hesitantly at first, but then he returns his kiss towards me. This is nothing like the kisses we shared in the closet when we were thirteen -- his kisses are more passionate, hungrier. As he kisses me, I realize that I want him just as much as he wants me. I don't know if either of us is ever going to want to stop.

Eventually, he pulls away. For a moment we just stare at each other, out of breath. "Maybe, we could be friends," I say. "Or perhaps, someday, a little more."

If I had ever been in a situation like this with somebody else, I would think that we've probably already entered into that 'more than friends' stage already, considering how he just had his tongue in my mouth a few seconds ago, but this is Daniel. He's kissed a lot of girls that he is only friends with.

"I'm hoping for 'a little more' myself," he replies, winking at me.

"Perhaps you can get your wish," I say, "if you can keep your tongue out of other girls' mouths."

"That'll be easy," he says dismissively. "Why settle for a June substitute if I can have the real thing?" He kisses me again.

"I should go," he says, after he pulls away again. "My mom and my brother both know I like you, and they know that you're living by yourself now, and if I stay too long, they'll probably think that I slept with you." He rolls his eyes.

"You know I can't let you go down those stairs on crutches without help," I say. "If you fell down the stairs and broke your neck, I'd never be able to forgive myself."

He sighs. "All right."

I carry his tote bag for him. It doesn't weight much without the heavy pot of soup in it, but he doesn't have spare hands to carry it with himself. "I can drive you home too, so you don't have to take the train, okay?" He smiles.

"The plague patrols are going through Lake," he tells me, as I help him down the stairs. "My brother Eden has the sniffles and a fever. He's always been a sickly kid. The plague patrol stopped by our house today and almost quarantined him. If we hadn't been vaccinated, they probably would have. They're still going to keep an eye on him though."

"I hope he gets better soon."

"I'm sure he will, but I'm a little worried about him."

I push thoughts of Eden and Metias to the back of my mind as I help Daniel down the stairs and into my car. He can bend his knee a little bit now, but he still can't put a lot of weight on his leg without it causing a great deal of pain. I hope his leg heals quickly.

We both have pain in our lives. Maybe we'll be able to get through ittogether.