Counterfeit

-forty--

-forty--

WE TALKED FOR hours, simply dreaming the world away. I learned so much more about him, about his hopes and his fears, and what it meant to have a chance to live, even if under such cruel circumstances. And I learned that he once had two brothers, but now he 'only had one left.'

"Before I came here, he was alive." MiKinley informed me. He was talking about Augustus - his remaining sibling, and explaining to me what had happened to Elijah and how quickly he had become ill. "But I suppose that was 9 months ago, now, and for all I know, he could already be dead, too." 

"Or maybe he's Insusceptible, like you." I suggested, trying to determine if MiKinley was familiar with the concept of hope. 

"Maybe." He sighed. "But wouldn't they have brought him here if he was? They would have told me if he was immune."

"I'm sure they would have told you if he was sick." I didn't for a second believe the words that came out of my mouth, but if I could somehow persuade MiKinley into believing them, then I prayed that my sin would be washed over in forgiveness. He needed something to hope for, and if it was something as important as family, then perhaps it would be enough. 

He sighed again; for a moment, the ache in his heart drowned out the life of our surroundings. MiKinley rolled over onto his back, staring up at setting sun as I lay next to him, my toes falling short of the water's ripples. It had been so long since we were like this; un-apologetically human, lying on the grass, living, only without touch. It was moments like this where I knew that he was my best friend, and that despite any hardships, it would never change between us. 

Looking over at him, his eyes shut, knees propped upwards, I desired an honesty with MiKinley that we hadn't yet tiptoed upon. 

"I have a brother." 

He opened one eye, raised his hand across his face as he squinted from the sunlight, and focused on me, an arm's length away. "I know. You've told me this before." 

"I think I've forgotten him a little. How is that possible?"

He didn't speak until a few moments later. He braced himself up on his elbows and gaze over at me in curiosity, debating over a thought of bravery or heartache. 

"Everyone forgets."

"But he's my brother, Kin. I'm not supposed to forget him." Then, additionally, "Do you remember Elijah?"

"Of course I do." He was quick to answer, almost as if he were offended, possibly ashamed. 

"Do you remember enough?"

I could see what he wanted to answer me, but the lie would just be to himself, and I knew that he knew it, too. I watched him in his dazed state of conflict, wondering whether his head or his heart would win. 

"I remember the things that matter. And some things which I might have made up in my mind. But they'll never be enough: never the same as the selfishness that comes with just being with someone, and not having to try and remember them, because they're not gone... Pip, you're not forgetting, you're shutting the memories away. That difference makes you the luckiest person alive no matter who you've lost."