Page 6 of Beyond The Maples
"Girl, ye sound like a drown’d rat being slaughtered when ye try to sing. Save ever’one the pain and keep it zipped, will ya?" She says this like she’s sincerely trying to help. ?
A few girls grabbing things laugh, along with Hollis, who’s shaking her head and chuckling as I pretend to be offended.
I hear something crash in the room's corner, noting the table of drunks from earlier. The younger kid, the one who asked for produce, is about to throw a punch when I give a low whistle, causing him to pause. Chef pops her head out from the kitchen like a deranged gopher, throwing a towel over her shoulder as I give her a nod toward the table. I should feel bad, making the old woman take the brunt of these situations, but I swear she loves it. Watching an elderly woman kick grown men- who are acting like children- out of the diner, is oddly satisfying.
I smile with relief; the guys give her a few grumbles of protest, but relent quickly. Marta has a way about her, a way of warning people with just a look she's not too be messed with. She gives me a conspiratorial wink as she passes me on her way back to the kitchen, the complaints of the men as they are leaving music to her ears.
?The day goes on, and I listen. Using the extra guests to pick up a few different pieces of information about the Games. The where, the who, the what. I hear wild whispered conspiracies about government experiments, and long forgotten lands with raw magic. I hear about more unrest at the borders in the West.
The squabbling between the remaining territories seems endless. It's not considered a war, but with the mortality rate of our soldiers it might as well be. There'san entire faction apparently that's sent out to our borders just to hold them, to ensure we get to keep our claimed portion of this dust bucket continent.
The information I’m really hoping for never comes, though. I hear little bits about more people all over the country going missing, but I’ve heard it all before. That sliver of hope that our dad is out there somewhere is always lingering in the back of my mind. It’s a hollow hope. Once people disappear, they never really come back.
My mind wanders as I go through the motions, taking orders and cleaning tables. It drifts to the fuzzy memories before my mom died and my dad became obsessed with answers. When my life felt simple. Somewhere in the back of my head, I hear the front bell ring, and voices quiet momentarily. I turn, wondering what has stolen people’s attention, and my breath catches as I see my best friend standing just inside the entrance, a huge goofy grin plastered on his face.
?Deacon is standing there in a worn brown jacket and dusty coloured work pants. His tall frame takes up most of the doorway. I huck my tray of dirty dishes onto a vacant table and run full force towards him, leaping into his familiar embrace, completely disregarding the whispering patrons around us. ?
I revel in his broad shoulders, loving the warmth and instant relief I feel from seeing him in one piece. I let out an embarrassing sigh as I melt into him, and I hear his deep chuckle against my head.
?"I missed you too, Mae," Deacon says with his own soft exhale as I continue to cling to him.
Finally, I pull back, all too aware of the eyes on us. I drag him over to the nook beside the entrance and make a show of checking him over. I continue to manhandle him now that we have a bit of privacy, knowing it will make him laugh. I start with his tousled auburn hair, and copper-kissed skin, running my hands all over as if to check for bumps or bruises, even going so far as to pretend to look up his nose.
"Ok, no head injuries. Good, good, even if it’s empty... it's still necessary for survival," I tease.?
He laughs as I circle around his large form, grunting with fake effort, and lift his arms up and down pretending to check mobility. Finally, I go back to his face and allow myself a moment to really feel relief at seeing him whole.
"I’m so glad you're back," I say a bit shyly, my cheeks heating at my sudden vulnerability. He doesn’t hesitate and pulls me in for another embrace. ?
"I’m so glad to be home. Never let me leave again. It’s horrible on the road. And dusty. And my family is exhausting." He flicks my braid over my shoulder playfully as he pulls back. I bat him away. ?
"Yes, you poor baby. Being with your large family traveling, drinking, and being adored everywhere you go must be exhausting," I chide.
Deacon’s family is one of the last well-off families south of The Centre. The Centre, that hosts the remaining wealth of our country, is our last stronghold. Where soldiers train, scientists and engineers attempt to create new ways to salvage our situation, and from where the infamous Council leads us.
Deacon's family isn't as comfortable as Council members perhaps, but they have the contract for trades and goods and have exclusive rights to run the junkyard for this region. The one I was haphazardly trying to steal from not twelve hours ago. I wait for the twinge of guilt to hit me, but it doesn’t. Maybe I’ve been bending my morals too long to worry about stealing something they would never miss.
Or maybe it's because Deacon’s family being well-off puts them in another category. They never have to worry about where their next meal is coming from, not rent or clothes or Gods forbid, medicine. ?
Regardless of our staggering differences, Deacon’s been my constant over the years. Other than my siblings, he’s been the one person who’s been around for it all. I feel a lot more at ease knowing he’s home. The road is dangerous no matter how connected or well-loved you are. The more mandates the Council puts on food and production, the more crime rises. Every year, people steadily grow more desperate, and the areas between remaining towns become lawless.
"You know what I mean," he counters a bit sheepishly. ?
The pinched look on his face makes me shrink. He is painfully aware of my situation, and how hard I’ve been working to make ends meet for Willow and Linden. I’m uncomfortable with a lot of things, and pity is high up on that list.
?"Welcome back," a meek voice from behind me says. Deacon turns up his charm, his pearly white teeth flashing as he gives Hollis a cheeky grin, leaning in for a hug.
"Why hello there, care to feed a hungry, smelly traveler?" he asks.
?"Of course!" She beams up at him like they’re the closest friends. "We’re so glad you’re home safe."
I bristle.?
I assume, at some point, Hollis and Deacon have been together. Our town isn’t big, and they are both beautiful and charming; it makes sense. There are only so many options. I know I have no right to feel any kind of jealousy over my best friend and his many conquests, so I stamp it down.
"Well, I better get back to all my fans. I’ll leave you two to catch up. We’ll hang later!" I add cheerfully, even though it stings seeing him walk off with her.
"Yeah, we’ll meet when you're off? I want to hear about everything I’ve missed. And see Willow and Linden, of course," he asks warmly.
