The following morning, the day of the harvest festival, Jay approaches me at breakfast. "Hey," he says as he sits down across from me. I stare at him, frozen, spoon halfway to my mouth.
"H—hey," I stammer, as the oatmeal on my spoon falls back into my bowl with a plop.
Jay's eyes are downcast. "Um...so...look. I'm really sorry," he picks at his food, which is really unlike him. Finally, he looks up. "I was way out of line. Of course I'd never want you to be unhappy. I hope you know that. I didn't mean it when I said we were done. I want to be friends, no matter what happens. Is that okay, or did I completely wreck things?" He asks me, unsure.
"Of course you didn't wreck things, Jay. I took you for granted and wasn't fair to you," I reply, relieved that we're making up after going so long without talking. "I'm sorry for everything. I want nothing more than to be friends again."
"Nothing more," Jay echoes with a small smile, but he looks relieved too, and starts eating with gusto.
I finally lower my spoon back to my bowl to continue my own breakfast. When I look up again, Jay is staring across the room with a sour look on his face. "What's wrong?" I ask, tilting my head questioningly.
"Nothing. Just that medic guy," Jay mutters, eating another spoonful.
"Oh—um, about that." Following Jay's gaze I see West wending his way through the dining hall straight towards us, breakfast tray in hand.
Jay snaps his head around and looks right at me. "About what, Elia?" As West gets closer, Jay's expression grows darker. "Are you friends now or something?"
"Or something," I say without thinking. Shit.
Before Jay can reply, West slides into the seat next to me. "Good morning," he says politely to Jay before starting to eat. Jay fixes me with an accusing glare. I bite my lip and give him an apologetic look.
Jay arranges his face into a stiffly polite expression, but not before I see a flash of hurt. "Morning," he replies curtly to West, before stacking his now empty dishes onto his own tray. "See you around, Elia," he shoves back from the table and stalks off.
I sigh. "Well, we were almost friends again," I murmur, poking at my oatmeal with my spoon.
West rubs my back. The gesture surprises me a little—I didn't think he would be this comfortable displaying affection or closeness in public. I lean into him anyway, resting my head on his shoulder briefly before sitting up straight again.
"I'm sorry things are still bad between you," West says sincerely.
I look at him, amazed and grateful. "Well, they were getting better for a minute there before you showed up. We'll get there. Thank you," I say, giving up on breakfast for now. Now this is how someone who supports you is supposed to be. I know it's hard for West too, since Jay has been so important to me for so long. "So, are you ready for the harvest festival?" I ask.
"What, an extra helping of your favorite food, plus a boring speech?" West retorts, rolling his eyes. "Sure, can't wait."
I giggle a little. It's true, the harvest festival isn't really much of a celebration, although my grandmother told me it used to be, long before I was born. It wasn't even a harvest festival then, it was called called Thanksgiving, just one of many holidays the community used to celebrate, traditions carried on after descending underground. I feel a sense of longing to return to a time where joy and celebrating togetherness were still part of our way of life, even if it's a time I never knew. "You're right. My grandmother Juniper will be saying a few words this year, though, so it won't be completely boring," I point out.
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.