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I force my mind to focus on the forms I need to fill in. But the paperwork is endless. Every time I open a page on my comm, I get halfway through the application process and then they tell me I’m not eligible. My situation is unique, there is no precedent for it. I simply don’t fit into any of their boxes.
I get distracted again trying to send her a message. I keep it short. I love you, I’m trying to return to you. Maybe a small message will find its way through. But all the channels are still blocked, and my message comes back, marked as unable to send.
I feel a frustrated anger boiling up inside of me. Without even realizing I’m doing it, I stand and hurl the desk across the room. It hits one of the bunks on the opposite side and clatters to a halt against the wall.
I stalk out into the night. I need a drink.
Syfer is a small town. Half the population lives at the military base, and the other half serves the military base. Before I even get to the bars, the hookers are there to show me a good time. Normally I flirt but don’t buy, enjoying the easy banter. But tonight, I ignore it all, brushing past them without a word.
“Rude,” I hear one of them mutter behind my back. I don’t care.
The flashing neon sign declares the bar to be The Holy Crocket. The stench of bincha weed hits me as soon as I’m through the door. I consider the merits of getting high, but even though I desperately want to silence the war in my mind, I can see only one end to that road. Instead, I order a bottle of strong liquor.
“Hey, Drex!” Linus calls from the other side of the crowded bar. “I’m glad you made it. Get your ass over here.”
As soon as I sit down with the guys, I’m glad I came out. The shots and the laughter unwind my fraught nerves. I’m lucky to have good friends. They’ve put up with a lot of shit from me since our departure from Armstrong.
Before long, the table is a mess of bottles and shot glasses. This is going to hurt in the morning, but right now, I am on a mission to oblivion.
I have to forget the dark brown eyes that won’t stop haunting me.
17
SOPHIA
“Ican’t believe you came back for me, Drex. I thought I would never see you again.”
“Nothing could keep me from my fated mate, Sophia.” Drex takes me in his arms, kissing me passionately while Isa and my mother clap and cheer. It’s our wedding day. A proper ceremony. The lush forests of Kalei fill my eyes with greens in every hue. Suddenly, a deep pain develops in my tummy.
“Oh no, Drex. I’m going into labor!” Without warning, we’re in the middle of a delivery room. Drex is wearing scrubs and a massive grin. Looking down I see not one, not two, but hundreds of babies.
“Thank the stars I was here!” Drex smiles at me, his arms packed with our many offspring. The big smile on his face has me convinced everything is going to be okay. I can’t believe how easy things are, now that he’s back. I can’t believe how it all worked out. I can’t… I can’t...
My eyes pop open, wrenched from my dreams with an all too familiar feeling of dread. My stomach flips, then wrenches in pain. Fuck, I'm gonna be sick.
Sprinting to the toilet gets me there in the nick of time as last night's dinner, if you could call it that, comes back up in full force.
“Not again.” I moan with my head in the can. Isa comes up behind me with a wet washcloth and rubs it across my sweating face.
“Now, now.” Her matronly shushing soothes my tummy, if only for a second, then the sensation takes me over again.
“How much longer am I going to be sick like this?” I plead, pulling my head from the toilet and starting to cry. Of all the times to be pregnant. Really. With the Alliance on the ground, and food rations starting to affect everyone, it’s the worst time to be eating for two.
“Oh, Honey.” Isa loves to use my last name as a term of endearment. “You can, in all reality, be sick every day until you give birth.”
“No…” Moaning into her shoulder, I turn to Isa like I always have, like the best friend she’s always been. Is she a substitute for Drex? No. Nothing can replace him, but admittedly, I’m increasingly grateful that I have her in my corner.
Five long months and still no word from him. It’s plain to anyone, anyone but me, that he isn't coming back. To think, in all this time I should've heard something, but, no.
Isa has had every chance to rub my nose in it. Especially after she warned me not to get involved with a traveling soldier. Bless her, she’s been nothing but kind these past few months. Looking at her now through my tear-stained eyes, I’m incredibly thankful I have her to lean on.
“Come on,” she insists, pulling me to my feet. “Let's get some food in you.”
“It will just come back up again,” I insist, wiping my face with the rag.
“We still gotta get it in you, even if it comes out again.”
I love the way she says that. Like it isn't the biggest worry on our minds right now. Throwing up rations, at a time like this. Doesn't this baby get how valuable each meal is?
