Chosen

Chapter 17

Tilting his head, West concedes. "True," he says. "I always liked her. She actually had a sense of humor."

I smile, thinking back over the many good memories I have of my grandmother. I was so young when my mother died, and Crane never acted like my father, so Juniper became my defacto parent. That all changed when I was in my fourteenth year of school, though. She was diagnosed with dementia, and has been stuck in the elderly ward ever since. She still seems pretty sharp most of the times I get to see her, but she does tend to misplace things. Visitors are only allowed once a month, for two short hours, so I haven't even had a chance to tell her about everything that's happened yet. But visiting hours are today, right before the festival, so I can finally talk to her. I have so much to tell her that I doubt I can even fit it all in such a short time.

West stands up, pulling me out of my reverie. "I've got to get up to the infirmary now," he gets to his feet. "See you tonight for the festival," he stoops and whispers into my ear, briefly kissing the side of my head before he turns and walks away.

"See you there," I call out belatedly, but he's already gone, confident enough in us to not need a reply.

- - - - -

"Come here my girl, let me look at you!" Grandmother Jupiter wraps me in a warm hug before holding me at arms length to scrutinize me. Her chin-length dark hair is streaked with gray, and tucked behind her ear revealing several scars along the side of her face. These are a result of her running into the cave-in rubble to save people right after it happened and getting hit with some falling pipes. She considers them a badge of honor. "You're too skinny! You need more protein," she tells me, our running joke.

Her room is small, with a narrow bed in the corner, a small table and chair beside, and rack mounted on the wall for her clothes. Like me, she only has one personal affect in her room, a photograph in a simple frame. Her photo is of me during my twelfth year, smiling and looking off to the side. I remember it being taken, on a free evening, with Jay distracting me with a goofy face as my grandmother snapped the picture. I'd been angry, as photographs were rare and precious, but she had loved it, claiming it was the "real me."

"I'll just go raid the food stores then," I tease, sitting down beside her on the bed. "So how are you? Still bored out of your wits?"

She sighs dramatically, throwing up her hands. "Completely. You would think that, after running this place for decades, they would let me do more than sit here twiddling my thumbs or play checkers with the other oldies. But nope, I'm just supposed to sit here day in and day out, slowly rotting my way to the grave."

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. My humor and sarcasm was inherited from my grandmother, and obviously skipped a generation. "Okay, okay, enough of that. I have so much to tell you, I don't even know where to start."

Juniper gives me a sympathetic look. "Oh, honey, I know. I know. How are you holding up?" She pats my hand, and I feel her weathered fingers, always cool to the touch.

Then it all comes out. I've always been able to tell my grandmother anything, more than Jay, even more than my own self. Talking to her has often revealed truths in myself that I didn't know were there. I go on for over an hour, telling her about the choosing, my new job, the community's reaction and behavior towards me, my fight with Jay, even a few snippets about West. I leave out the cave-in and our newfound relationship, though. I'd like to keep that for myself for just a little longer. Finally I finish, my throat a little hoarse.

She squeezes my hand comfortingly. "You've been through the ringer, my girl. But something else is troubling you, isn't it? Now, tell me what it is."

I'm amazed at how well she knows me. I think carefully before I answer. She knows how my relationship with my father is, and disapproves of his strict tactics. But she's still his mother, and that makes me feel the need to be careful. "I've actually been doing pretty well, all things considered." She raises her eyebrows at this. "I just...feel guilty is all."

"For what, Elia?" Grandmother Juniper asks, cocking her head.

"For choosing myself over the the people," I whisper. Without warning, tears spring to my eyes. I blink repeatedly to keep from crying. Until this moment I didn't know how deep my guilt ran.

She ponders my confession. "I think there are other ways you can do your duty to your people," she says slowly.

I look at her with surprise. "How? I feel like what I'm doing now is so small, so ineffectual."

Now it's her turn to be surprised. "Why, everything we do matters, Elia. I would think you of all people would know that by now. We wouldn't survive without everyone doing their part." I sit and think about her words. "However, if you feel like you could do more, then the answer is right in front of you."

"What?" I ask her hopefully.

"If you want to do your duty to your people, find out what they need most, then figure out a way to give it to them." She says matter of factly.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" I ask, confused.

"Ah, now that's the hard part, isn't it?" She smiles. "You've always been a smart girl. You'll find the answer."

The ward supervisor walks by and gives us a five minute warning. "I really don't like that man," Juniper mutters to me. "Now, where is my chief badge? I'm supposed to wear it this evening." After a few minutes I find it in the pocket of a pair of pants hanging on the clothes rack, where she often loses things. I place it on her table so she won't miss it when the time comes to pin it on. "I'll see you tonight, grandmother," I tell her as I walk to the door.

It takes a beat for her to remember. "Ah, yes, the harvest festival. Sure, honey, I will see you there." With that she ushers me out with a quick kiss. I internally cross my fingers and hope she doesn't forget her speech.