7
“Who or what is ‘Della Dragon?’”
<A singing group, most known for “Selfish Little Bear.”>
“Uh, yeah, I love Della Dragon. Especially ‘Selfish Little Bear,’” Rev told Kat and Neesy.
Kat’s eyes grew round, and she breathlessly said, “Really? OK, wait, wait! Neesy, let’s get it!”
The two girls ran off to get what he assumed to be a song, and Rev wondered if he’d made a strategic mistake. He looked over at his mother, who raised an eyebrow, which didn’t tell him anything.
Oh, well. No biggie. I can handle whatever it is.
“She adores you, you know.”
“I’m barely around.”
“Maybe. But you saved her life, and all she does is ask when you’re coming to visit.”
“I try to get here when I can—”
“Don’t worry about it. We know you’ve got your duties. There is a war going on, after all.”
Which didn’t make him feel much better. He’d gone out in town with his team or posse on more than one occasion without bothering to visit home.
“So, how’s she doing?” he asked to change the subject.
“Well. She and Neesy are close, which helps. But she misses her parents.”
“The same parents who gave her to Mr. Mark to use as a suicide bomber? She does realize that, right?” Rev asked incredulously.
“On one level, yes. But the counselor, Mr. Weisen, says this is a normal reaction at this stage.”
As part of the process for his parents to adopt Kat, and as the little girl was technically a Children of Angels, long-term counseling by the state was a requirement. Rev thought it was overkill. She was just eight now, for goodness’ sake, hardly a traitor terrorist.
“Normal reaction or not, I’d have killed them if I found them after what they did to her,” he muttered.
“Rev! That’s no way to talk!” his mother said, scooting back in her chair as if she thought Rev was about to attack.
Rev sighed. To his mother, and perhaps to most of the civilian populace, the Children of Angels were merely duped by the Centaurs, fed lies to gain their support. Maybe Rev had been hardened by the Corps, maybe he’d seen too much death, but he had little sympathy for the traitors to the human race, and he had absolutely none for parents who gave up their little girl to be sacrificed like that.
He looked down and flexed the fingers on his social arm, the shiny prosthesis that the military had given him to wear while out in public. “I’ll try to be more civilized when I’m in your house.”
His mother followed his gaze. “I didn’t mean it that way. I know you’ve suffered tremendously with your . . . your . . .”
“Arm.”
“Yes, your arm.”
The thing was that Rev was not particularly bitter about losing his arm. It was a small price to pay for saving Kat, and with Pashu and his ability to better contribute to the fight against the Centaurs, it probably was all for the best. Maybe already being augmented when he lost his arm affected his body image, but he was bothered far less about his arm than most people seemed to assume.
“But you need to learn forgiveness. Don’t let it fester and change who you are,” his mother continued.
Mom, I have already changed. And I’d like to think for the better.
But it wasn’t worth arguing with her. She was who she was, and without serving as a Marine, she’d never understand. Even his stepfather, with whom he was closer, wouldn’t understand. As much as he loved them, sometimes he thought Mr. Oliva from the VGW understood him more than anyone in his family.
“Do you think, you know, with the draft, that they’ll let you come home?” his mother asked.
“I think that’s just rumor. This is the Perseus Union, not the Manifest Destiny Sphere. The Articles of Confederation won’t allow for a draft.”
“But that’s what they say on the news, that it’s coming. And since you already sacrificed so much, maybe you can get out when that happens.”
Rev gave a mental sigh. His mother’s idea of the news was several blogs created by self-professed experts on just about everything. Many of the other nations had instituted drafts, but an open draft was expressly forbidden by the Articles of Confederation. And that was why when their heavy recruiting couldn’t keep up with the mortality rate, they started conscripting people for increasingly minor offenses.
He was trying to formulate a reply that wouldn’t upset his mother when he was saved by the two girls running back into the living room and climbing onto the couch to sit on either side of him. Kat clutched a small audio player embedded into a fuzzy toy puppy.
Neesy reached across Rev to push the puppy’s nose, saying, “Play ‘Selfish Little Bear.’”
“Neesy, I wanted to start it!” Kat protested, but the music began and cut her off.
It was about as expected—bright and mind-numbing.
The girls sang along, raising their voices almost to a scream for the final four lines line of each stanza:
Sorry, Mommy. Sorry, Mommy,
So the little bear said.
That’s OK, my little one.
And she kissed him on his head!
Screams of laughter followed.
Rev did his best to follow along. He could have had Punch feed him the lines, but for some reason, this had to be just between the two girls and him. At least he got the final line, singing out, “And she kissed him on his head,” with them.
As they started the song for the fourth time, his mother came to the rescue and told them that was enough.
“But Rev says it’s his favorite!” Kat said.
“Why don’t you go get the shirt Dad gave you,” his mother said.
“Oh, OK!” Kat said, sliding off the couch and running back to her room.
Neesy snuggled closer and put her hands around his social arm and squeezed it tight.
“Can I get you something more to drink? Another beer?” his mother asked.
Rev looked at the drink on the table. He was going to meet Mala for dinner and drinks in an hour, and he probably should be sober before he started.
“Maybe a coffee?”
“Coming right up.”
As soon as she stepped into the kitchen, Neesy gave his arm a tug and looked up at him.
“What do you want, little one?”
She hesitated, her face screwed up in concentration. “Do you love Kat more than me?”
“What? Whatever gave you that idea?” Rev asked, completely taken by surprise.
“I don’t know. You spend more time with her when you come.”
Rev’s heart fell. “I spend time with you, too. Neesy, are you having problems with her? Don’t you like her?”
“No, I love her. I like having her here. But . . .”
“But what?”
“Am I still your favorite sister?”
Rev’s heart was breaking, but he forced a laugh and pulled Neesy around to face him. “Neesy, Neesy, Neesy. You’ve been my favorite since I first saw you almost ten years ago. And now, with Kat joining us, you’re my favorite big-little sister, OK?”
“Really? And Kat is your favorite little-little sister, right?”
“You’ve got it.”
Neesy threw her arms around his neck and squeezed just as his mother returned with the coffee. “What’s going on,” she asked.
“Nothing,” the two siblings said, laughing.
“I don’t know; my mother-radar is going off.”
“Some things are just between brother and sister, Mom. Right Neesy?”
“Right.”
Kat chose that moment to come running back into the room. She’d changed her shirt to a green one with “My Big Brother Is A Marine” emblazoned across the front. She stepped in front of him and preened like a model on the catwalk.
“Come here, munchkin,” Rev said, as he gathered her up and pulled her to his right side. Sitting there, with his sisters on either side, he felt a sudden wave of . . . domesticity? No, that couldn’t be it.
“So, I know I don’t need to ask, but are you staying for dinner?”
He was about to tell his mother he had other plans, but he realized that he’d rather stay, not just for the girls, but to catch up with his father, and Grover was supposed to come over that evening from the dorm, too, probably to get clean laundry. He could call up Mala and give her his regrets, maybe promising something else later on.
“No, I think I’ll stay, if you don’t mind?”
“Well, will wonders never cease?” his mother said, a smile breaking over her face. “I was going to dial up something quick, but if you’re staying, I’ll make your favorite.”
“No, no! Don’t go to any trouble. Just dial up something!”
“Are you kidding? When my firstborn is eating with us?” She rushed off to the kitchen.
Rev’s mother had somehow come to the conclusion that one of her dishes from scratch, shepherds pie, was his favorite. Truth be told, his mother wasn’t a good cook, and the meal, while supposedly an Earth classic, was mostly a gooey, tasteless mess. Rev would far rather just get something dialed up on the family’s meal fabricator, but he knew it was a lost cause. When his mother got up a head of steam, there was no stopping her.
If Mala is still willing to meet later, maybe we can grab a bite of something.
“Hey, since Mom is busy, how about we sing some more “Selfish Little Bear.”
The girls squealed with delight, and they started another round of the song. Rev even started picking up the other lines.
Rev never did get that shepherd’s pie, though. After the fifth “And she kissed him on his head,” his quantphone sounded with an emergency recall back to base.