Page 14 of Beyond The Maples
"It won't be enough," I explain. "There are no jobs. None around here that pay anything above survival. Why do you think I go to the Games so often? The diner doesn't even cover basic costs most weeks, Lind."
Looking over at my little brother; he seems suddenly so young. The despair on his face stripping away the years, reminding me of when things got bad when we were little. He's hunched over the table with his head in his hands now, like he's trying to solve the world's most intense math equation.
I go and sit across from him at the dinette, taking his hand and squeezing it.
"We have to figure something out Maple, we can't lose her too. She won't make it long without treatments. I've learned little bits here and there to keep her comfortable, but she won't last long before she ends up exactly like Mom." His voice cracks.
Tears build in Linden's eyes and slowly slip down his face. I know he's probably reliving the same horrifying memories that play on repeat for me some days. My heart fractures, knowing so intimately that helpless ache.
Staring at my little brother, and I know then what I've always known. I would move mountains. I would make sure they were okay, even if it ruined me. They would both live full lives. I would make sure of it.
"I know what I have to do," I say quietly, looking at him with such conviction it snaps his head up and our eyes meet. "I have to enlist."
Linden immediately stands back up, his instinct to pace taking over again.
"Maple, you can't. That's not an option."
I look at him, my eyebrows bunched, and I attempt to smile. The way he says it, I know he sees what I see. That it's our only hope. Our only way out.
The soldiers, even during training, are about the only people across the country who have access to proper medical care and consistent food. Their families have benefits, and even death pay. Which is often necessary because of how dangerous it is.
"You have absolutely no training Maple, no special skills that are transferrable. None that would keep you off the front lines."
He's trying to rein in his dread, and doing a poor job.
"Well, I don't really have any skills, transferrable or not." I snort.
Linden starts getting frustrated with my self-deprecation.
"Stop doing that. You know what I mean. You'd make a decent engineer, if they still allowed the inventing you'd be good at. If anyone should go, it should be me. They would take me in with the medics, even if I'm only a little practically trained."
Now it's my turn to get frustrated.
"You are absolutely not going. This is on me."
I say it a more firmly than I mean to. But I need him not to fight me on this. Linden would never make it. He struggles with people, and in the past he's gotten himself in trouble by reading social situations poorly. Throw him in with a bunchof burly unit crews and he'd drown, no matter how smart he is. He's sweet and soft and everything good in him would die out there. It isn't an option.
"Lind, most medics are right there on the front lines, anyway. You'd be no safer than if you were a grunt. You can stay here, take care of Willow, finish school, and as soon as you do and your Doc benefits kick in for us, I'll come home. It will be a couple of years at most."
I say this softly, hoping he understands. Linden shakes his head, a vacant look in his eyes.
I know a part of him is relieved, and he probably feels guilty for that, too. As much as I'm sure he would love to step up, he's not meant for that kind of life.
I walk around to where my brother sits and take his face into my hands. I purposely squish his cheeks a little.
"Everything will be ok. This will work. I heard it takes forever before cadets see action. Besides, I'm very tough. I bet they'll see how very tough I am, and I'll just start training people."
I grin a little at this. It's half-hearted, but it pulls a crooked laugh from him. I tug him towards me for a tired hug.
"Come on. Let's go to bed. We can deal with telling Willow tomorrow. I need sleep."
I watch as Linden gets up, hesitating at his bedroom door.
"This is just going to be temporary, right?"
I look away because lying to his face is not something I can live with.
"Of course," I say, before locking myself in the bathroom and letting the full unbearable weight of my anxiety finally consume me.
