Kody Boye - Sunrise

This is a bit awkward, Jamie thought, raising an eyebrow when Erik looked up at him. His friend merely shrugged, then dipped a biscuit into the canned beef stew. I already knew not to expect you to talk to me, Erik, but the kid?

He’d been under the impression that Erik would bond with the boy, or, at the very least, give him a little attention. Then again, he couldn’t really expect Erik to do much of anything, especially with a kid whose very presence most likely dredged up bad memories.

Aaron died when we were fifteen, he thought, looking down at his soup. Which means it’s been…what? Eleven years?

It was hard to believe that Erik’s little brother had died so long ago. Afflicted with Leukemia, the seven-year-old had little chance of surviving infancy, let alone his toddler years. The fact that he’d made it so long had been a miracle. Everyone had expected him to beat the disease, or at least go into remission. All the treatment, all the chemo—

“Jamie?” Desmond asked. “Everything ok?”

“Everything’s fine,” Jamie said, shooting a glance at Erik, who offered him an indifferent look. “How about you?”

The boy nodded his head in agreement. “Is your food ok?”

“It’s great. You said you made the biscuits from scratch?”

“It wasn’t easy, but I did.” Desmond glanced down the end of the table, to where the sergeant sat between the still-debating civilians and police officers, then whispered, “It’s probably the only time I’m doing it though.”

“Too much work?” Jamie asked.

“No. Too much supplies.”

“But it’s only flour, sugar, shortening, stuff like that, right?”

“I wanted to get on the sergeant’s good side,” the boy said, “but I won’t get there if the stuff in the kitchen starts disappearing.”

“Good on you,” Jamie said, clapping the boy’s shoulder. He squeezed Desmond’s arm and returned his gaze to the rest of their small group. “You’ve done a good thing tonight, Desmond.”

“Sir?”

“If we’re really in this for the long haul,” Jamie said, “at least this will help us prepare for it.”

Though likely unsure of what to say, Desmond settled back into his seat.

When Jamie looked up, he caught a smile in the corner of the boy’s eyes.

The sight made him smile.

“Jamie,” Erik said. “Mind if I ask something?”

“Shoot,” Jamie said, leaning forward to unlace his boots.

“What was with the weird look you gave me at dinner?”

Jamie paused, fingers tangled within his bootlaces. “That.”

“That.” Erik braced his arm against the foot of his cot, fingers tightening around the metal rung to the point where his knuckles turned white. “Want to explain what was up?”

“I was wondering why you weren’t talking to Desmond.”

“What do you mean?”

“It just surprised me, that’s all. You got along with all those Chamorro kids from Guam so well.”

“Guam was different.”

“From what?”

“From this.” Erik sat down on his cot and ran his hands over his face. Like a child just woken from sleep, he rubbed his eyes with the tops of his fists, making it more than clear that he wasn’t going to speak any further.

“I miss Aaron too, Erik.”

“This isn’t about Aaron, Jamie.”

“Yeah it is. I’m not stupid, buddy. I can tell by the way you were acting that it was bringing up bad memories. All those kids back in Guam…you hovered over them like they were your own flesh and blood. The one boy was Desmond’s age.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Just come out and say it, Erik—you were bothered that Desmond looks so much like your brother.”

“Fuck you,” Erik said, rolling onto his cot. “Aaron looked nothing like Desmond.”

“No, but he would’ve.”

To this, Erik had no reply. Instead, he laid an arm over his eyes and took a deep breath, first inhaling, then exhaling. His chest rose and fell as if he’d just risen from the water after not having a breath of air for several minutes. During this lapse of silence, Jamie watched his friend with sad eyes and a heavy heart. Had he misdiagnosed his friend’s behavior, Erik wouldn’t be acting like he was. He’d hit the nail on the head in exactly the right spot.

I shouldn’t have brought it up . He caught the glimmer of a tear snaking its way down Erik’s face. This was a really fucking bad idea.

Still, he wondered, was it better that he’d done it now instead of later? He was well aware of Erik’s random mood swings and his past dependency on drugs. After Aaron had died, Jamie had frequently seen random bottles of pills lying amidst the piles of dirty underwear and girly mags, the latter of which he’d stolen from his father, the former the subject of depression and bad habits. He’d only seen Erik’s room in that state a few times over the years, but the times he had were enough to assure him that his friend had fallen low during that crucial time in his life.

“Are you taking pills?” Jamie finally started to ask.

“What?”

“I asked if you were taking pills,” Jamie said, dropping his boots to the floor.

“No,” Erik laughed. “Why would I?”

“Because you used to do it.”

“I got out of that habit when I was sixteen. You know that.”

“Not really. You could’ve picked it back up.”

“I assure you, I didn’t. Even if I did, what business would it be to you?”

“You’re my friend. I’m worried about you.”

“Just because I’m being visited by my little brother’s ghost doesn’t mean I’m going off the deep end.”

“It’s not that hard to get there nowadays.”

“What about you?” Erik asked. “You still think about Jake?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Jamie said, setting his head on the pillow.

“But you—”

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Erik said, rolling onto his side.

Jamie closed his eyes.

The past was the past. He had to keep telling himself that.

A knock came at the door at four-thirty a.m. Roused from sleep by both the sound and the idea that something was coming to get him, Jamie rolled out of bed and quickly crossed the room. When he reached the door, he started to peer out it, but stopped when Erik lifted his head. When he mouthed ‘ Who is it?’, Jamie shook his head, then peered out the peephole. Desmond stood outside, hands in his pockets. “It’s Desmond,” he said.

“Desmond?” Erik frowned. “What’s he doing here?”

Jamie opened the door. “What’s up, buddy?” he asked, leaning an arm against the doorjamb.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure. Of course you can.”

“I’m not dressed,” Erik said.

“I don’t care,” Desmond replied. Jamie closed the door and Erik pulled the sheet up over his waist. “Sorry for bothering you guys.”

“No problem,” Jamie said, locking the door behind them. “What’s the matter? Why’re you here, especially so late at night?”

“I’ve been sleeping on the floor.” Desmond paused to reconsider his words. “Sergeant put me up in the kitchen,” he continued. “Said we needed to keep the rooms open just in case more refugees come in.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jamie growled, heading for the door. “I’m gonna up there and give him a piece of my mind.”

“Please, don’t,” Erik moaned. “This is exactly why no one used to tell you anything back in high school.”

“You went to school together?” Desmond asked.

“We grew up in the same neighborhood. Next door to each other, actually.”

“Can we cut the pleasantries?” Jamie asked. “This is bullshit.”