Marigold

by Heather Mitchell Manheim

  Davis noticed Quinn giving Ana a look. It conveyed that Quinn was proud of Ana, which Davis thought was sweet and friendly. Quickly though, Davis saw that look turn into something akin to panic.

  Ana ignored her look and started, “My mom, Camila, she kept us away from the Pods to take care of my father, Jose, who was sick and not allowed in any of the Class One or Two Pods and, therefore, could not get the proper care. We were starving, though, so my mom went to break into a storage unit to get us nutrition biscuits. Only ten years old, I was confused. My last injection had only been a few days before we fled into the woods. So, my mom took me to the edge of the woods to keep a watch out while she tried to get us food, and I saw a Security Patrol Sargent.” Ana started to rub tears from her eyes and looked down, the first time she hadn’t made eye contact as far as Quinn could remember. “I turned her in. I notified the Patrol Sargent because I thought they might help us. Instead, she got dragged into the town center and shot. I got my mom killed. And my father too. Because they took me to the Everett Center, and he was left alone in the woods.”

  The look of shock on Quinn’s face told Davis that she had not known this story, or at least not all of it. But, as was Quinn’s comforting way, she put her arm around Ana’s shoulder and leaned her head against it. “It’s okay; I’m sorry you had to deal with that. You were so young,” she quietly said to Ana. Cricket and Davis nodded in agreement, both now crying. They all realized that sometimes there were just no words to offer comfort or fix a situation.

  A mutual understanding seemed to be found by all the ladies, and slowly, silently, they sipped at the wine for a few minutes until the glasses started to empty. There was not much else to say this evening, so the party began to break up, and Quinn and Ana offered to clean up.

  Davis started to feel tired but continued to sit there for a few minutes until—and she couldn’t be sure—when she was so sleepy and couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed anymore, she thought she saw Ana slip her hand off Quinn’s arm and onto her leg under the table.

  September 16, 2056 –

  Quinn’s Evening

  Quinn felt like she needed a drink of wine. She didn’t drink much, and there were limited bottles in the bunker anyhow. They were for special occasions like birthdays, holidays, “freedom birthdays,” what they called their anniversary of being in the bunker. But, every once in a while, you just need a drink, she thought. And nobody cared if you grabbed a few bottles for those occasions. She also thought it might help her bond with Davis a little if she brought her a glass. Even though she was leaving, she knew it had been a tumultuous time for Davis, and Quinn felt terrible for all she had gone through. Quinn thought it would be nice to put her at ease for her big day tomorrow, and of course, Ringo would let Davis know where the “doorbell” was, should she ever change her mind. A serendipitous event occurred when Davis entered the kitchen right as Quinn thought about bringing the wine to Davis’s room. After acknowledging her, Quinn asked, “Have you ever had wine? I think you need a drink.”

  Quinn looked back at Davis’s stunned expression and knew what she thought, that alcohol was outlawed. Quinn quickly explained that it was forbidden for most people. But, if related to President Everett or in the higher ranks of the government, you could pretty much get anything you wanted for exchange of goods, money, favors. Money in the United State was a weird thing. It had lost much of its value now that they were strictly socialist and the government provided all necessities. But some people liked it for the novelty of it, and in fact, Quinn had heard that in some places, the value was far higher than the number printed on it. “I’ll pour you some Riesling to try. It is very appealing. Almost everyone likes it.” Quinn said to Davis. She tried to say it with a smile, in a very casual way.

  Quinn handed Davis a wine glass and watched her take her first sip ever of wine. Davis flinched back a little at first, squinted a bit, and looked like she was surprised and a little unnerved. In particular, this was a sweet Riesling that Quinn had poured. Long legs were streaming down the inside of the glass. Quinn watched her take another sip, then another, knowing they were going to be in for an unforgettable night, albeit a fun one. Before Quinn knew it, they were chit-chatting and giggling. She started to feel comfortable around Davis, who was older than her but reminded Quinn of her mother or what Quinn could remember of her mom. Then, without warning, Davis said, “You know, um, you know…you are very nice, you know. What a nice young girl, you girl.”

  Quinn suddenly felt warm all over and surprised as well, as she could tell Davis was embarrassed by what she has said. Quinn didn’t want her to feel that way. Before Davis could say the apology that Quinn saw coming, she cut in, offering to get some food and water since Davis wasn’t used to drinking and would need something besides wine in her stomach. Quinn acquired the giggles, which she hoped wasn’t embarrassing to Davis, but it was a little bit funny to see Davis getting so tipsy so quickly.

  Quinn went into the kitchen to gather a few snacks; she made up a quick vegetable plate, got a bowl of nuts, and a bowl of potato chips. She also got a large pitcher of water and some water glasses. Piling the whole smorgasbord on a large tray with some napkins, Quinn was just about to go back into the dining room when Cricket came in and asked her what was going on. It was so funny to Quinn that Cricket just asked like it was a regular thing to pop over to another bunker late at night and see what other people were doing. But Quinn thought Cricket seemed harmless enough, so she asked her if she wanted to join in the wine fun. The more, the merrier, she thought.

  After Quinn and Cricket came back into the dining room, Quinn set the tray down in the middle of the table, and Davis quickly got some water and snacks. Quinn then sat and then patted the seat next to her on the bench, indicating Cricket should sit next to her. However, Quinn was startled when soon after Ana walked in with an indignant look and said, “Am I interrupting something?”

  Quinn couldn’t tell her she wasn’t interrupting fast enough, and as she felt her cheeks blushing hotly, she attempted to quickly and simply explain she was hanging out with Davis and Cricket. Quinn wished she could somehow clarify that she was trying to bond with Davis, making her feel more comfortable and at ease. There was no way to explain in front of Davis, so Quinn quickly slid down, creating a space for Ana to sit down next to her.

  As Ana went to sit down, she gave a quick explanation about how she had gone to Quinn’s room to ask her something but was surprised to see Quinn was not there. Quinn noticed Ana was blushing, and her blush continued as she sat, making Quinn feel bad that she had created an awkward situation for Ana.

  To recompense, Quinn started pouring the wine for Ana, then refilled the other glasses after. That’s when Davis suddenly spoke up, sounding like there was something important to say. When Davis started speaking, it was not entirely clear what she was trying to get at, so Quinn wanted to encourage her. “You can tell us whatever you want,” she said, looking directly at Davis.

  Quinn watched Davis as she drank some water and nibbled on snacks, looking nervous, and as if she was trying to gather and control her thoughts. Quinn decided right then that no matter what Davis said, she would be as supportive as possible. But there was nothing that could have prepared her for what she heard. It started benign enough, about her nightmares, and Cricket said a generic yet kind platitude. Then it quickly went dark. Quinn was quite surprised to hear that Davis had been involved in transporting a terrified young boy to some kind of reprogramming center. While the details were not entirely clear, what was clear to Quinn was that this boy had been in a dangerous situation, and Davis had delivered him right into the hands of the enemy.

  When Davis started to cry, although the shock had not worn off yet, Quinn jumped to one of the things she felt like she excelled at, comforting. She got up to sit next to Davis and rubbed her back. Quinn tried to put her hand on Davis lightly, not wanting to make her more nervous or put her off. She
tried to say a few kind words, although this was a difficult situation. There was not much to say. And Quinn saw very quickly as Ana and Cricket also tried words of comfort that it was just one of those things that would take time. They could be as encouraging and friendly as they knew how—and they would be—but it would not be an easy road to navigate. Made evident by Davis, who was now sobbing.

  Just when Davis started to calm down a little, she suddenly started crying hard again. Quinn felt so badly for her; clearly, she dealt with a lot of pain, confusion, and uncertainty. Quinn also realized Davis was worried and anxious about letting down everyone in the bunker group. Quinn felt torn; she very much wanted this plan to go forward and wanted Davis to help them. However, Quinn also wanted to be supportive and kind to Davis. She looked at Ana and lifted her eyebrows as if she was trying to ask her what now? Quickly, Quinn turned her attention back to trying to comfort Davis again. She barely said a few words when Ana jumped in with some surprising yet incredible words of comfort. Quinn found herself very proud of Ana, her wisdom, and the strength that her speech imparted. However, Quinn started to worry and shot Ana a look of panic as she continued her story. She was unsure Ana should share what Quinn was certain she was about to contribute to the conversation.

  Quinn was stunned as Ana told her story and what had happened to her mom, Camila. Quinn had heard part of it but never the part about Ana talking to the guard and turning her mom in. Quinn felt the bottom of her stomach drop out. What was Ana talking about? she thought. Quinn decided to go back and sit with Ana. Quinn walked slowly back; it felt as if she was treading through molasses. Ana had told Quinn the basics of what happened, but understandably, she did not like to talk about it much and typically avoided the topic. In turn, Quinn avoided the issue and tried to protect Ana when and if the subject ever came up. Quinn was utterly taken aback and had no words when Ana started confessing that she had been the reason Camila got murdered. She wasn’t mad, just very surprised by this revelation and so sad for Ana, and sympathized with how difficult that must have been. How painful that must have felt. And even if Ana had indeed forgiven herself, Quinn could see it in her face that the pain had not gone away. There was not much Quinn felt she could say in this circumstance. It was so beyond any words that could be helpful. So, Quinn just tried to be as comforting as possible and let Ana know that she still supported her.

  The evening started to wind down after that. Quinn and Ana both offered to clean up, and Cricket departed with a kiss on the cheek for each of the other three ladies. Looking exhausted and beyond sleepy, with puffy eyes from crying, Davis sat there a few minutes until Ana slid her hand onto Quinn’s knee. That’s a foolish move, Quinn thought. We can’t get caught doing things like this. She doubly figured they should be careful because she was pretty sure Davis saw the move Ana made and then took a quick departure upon seeing it.

  Even crazier was when Ana looked Quinn in the eye—it felt to her like it was straight in the eye, but Quinn was a bit tipsy—and gave her a crooked smile and then planted a kiss right on her lips. Quinn, for a moment, returned the kiss but abruptly broke away, gasping. “We can’t do this; what if someone sees us? This. Is. Not. A. Good. Idea.” Quinn was fighting all her instincts to do what she wanted to do, which was kiss her back passionately.

  “I don’t care who sees!” exclaimed Ana.

  “Well, I do,” said Quinn, getting up from the table. “Please, I’m sorry, Ana.”

  “Please don’t say anything else. Just go,” Ana started to cry a little, breaking Quinn’s heart with each tear that began to fall. Quinn reached out to put her hand on Ana’s shoulder, but Ana had quickly put her head down on the table and nestled her head in the crook of her arm. Quinn thought better than saying anything at all and promptly left the room, apologizing again as she walked away, and her own tears started to sting her eyes.

  September 18, 2056 –

  Davis Returns to Her Room

  When Davis finally returned to her room, there was something under her door. It was an envelope with a note clipped to it. Looking at it, Davis saw the letter was from Duffy. Davis glanced at the clock and noticed it was a little past 3 a.m. She was tired, her head hurt, and she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to read it right then. However, remembering she was supposed to leave the bunker at about 7 a.m. today, she figured no time like the present and read the note.

  Davis,

  I know this will seem blunt, and I apologize for that, but I got back this evening and wanted to give this to you before you left. However, you were busy tonight—which is excellent; I hope you had a fun evening with the girls.

  At any rate, your mom gave me this note a long time ago, after you were born, but before she had been told you died. I did read it, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t know if we’d ever meet you or when. And, I wanted to make sure there was no valuable information we needed.

  She had named you “Amelia,” so that is how she addressed the letter. She wrote it after the cure for Lombardi Plague was introduced, but the brain control hadn’t been introduced yet. That wasn’t until a few more months down the line. Currently, your mom is very much under the power of the brain control drug. The person who wrote this letter would not write it now. You need to know that. I also think it’s important for you to know that the Marigold Injection was initially called the Everett Cure. Early on, it was changed to the Marigold Injection, so that is all most people remember.

  All my best,

  Duffy

  Davis reread the letter from Duffy before opening the envelope. Her hand was shaking as she opened it; her hand was trembling so much that she couldn’t even get the letter out on her first try. Davis decided to sit on the bed while reading because there was dizziness in her brain. She took a deep breath before forcing her eyes open, although that wasn’t too difficult as she was suddenly wide awake.

  Dear Amelia:

  My beautiful daughter! I am thrilled that I was able to stay healthy enough to bring you into the world. And now, we have both been cured of the Lombardi Plague! That cure opens so much possibility for you. I know already how smart you are—you’re so alert when you look at me, and your little sticky-up tufts of golden hair look like sparks of brilliance to me. Regardless, now you have the chance to LIVE. Have a life to create a story that is remarkable and uniquely yours.

  I never knew I could love someone so much as you; from the instant I saw you, you were my favorite person in the world. I do wish your father could have met you; I know he would have been crazy about you too. Honestly, I don’t understand how anyone wouldn’t be crazy about you. You’re so cute, little, innocent, and sweet. I could stare at just your chubby, perfect little toes for hours.

  There is something you must know, my dear. I do not fully trust Dr. Everett. I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel there might be something malicious happening. Again, nothing specific, so maybe I shouldn’t be so nitpicky. After all, he did save our lives! And for that, I’ll always respect and admire him—he saved my baby daughter’s life. But I’ve heard murmurs, grumblings, things that have made me uncomfortable. He seems to have a bad temper with the staff, which is never good, in my opinion. So, I have created a “password” for you, of sorts. In case something happens and we get separated somehow. I’m sure I’m worrying over nothing—new mom jitters—but just in case, this makes me feel better.

  The password is “marigold.” My father, your grandfather, used to call me his Little Marigold. Not because of the golden hair that adorns the women in our family, although he said that was a fun coincidence. He always said marigold flowers are associated with the brave and courageous lion. That he always knew I could be brave and courageous, knowing that I will have the support and love of my family. That I could accomplish anything that I set my mind to do. And I want to impart not just this “safety password” onto you but also that same strength, courage, hope, and love. You have courage, my daughter. Courage isn’t
doing something brave and strong—although I know you are brave and strong too—courage merely is doing the right thing, even if it isn’t easy. And I can see in your eyes; you will always do the right thing. You will always have the love and support of your family. Even if we are not here when you need us, you will have a whole legion of people you can rely on to help you from the Heavens. You are my Little Marigold.

  I love you, my dear one, always and forever.

  Love, mom

  ~

  Davis curled herself up into a fetal position, not crying, not even feeling anything but numb. Like her brain was dried out. She lay there, looking like a terrified child, hoping sleep would overtake her. She wanted to sleep for a few hours before departing and never look back. Her thought at that moment was that if the brain control could take back over, then she’d totally forget that letter and maybe even that Ruby was her mom. It would be so much easier. Davis just didn’t want to worry about any of it anymore.

  Much to Davis’s dismay, sleep did not come; a half-hour later, she started to read the letter over and over. Trying to make sure what she was reading was also believable. She had never known her mother. She didn’t think the few weeks before being separated counted since she had been too young to remember any of it. Davis wanted to believe it was true, but could she be positive? She decided that once again, she was not sure of anything that was happening.

  The little of what remained of the wee hours of the morning found Davis exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Sitting on the bed, then pacing back and forth, even laying on the floor at one point. Sometimes, the letter in her hand, being held like a prized possession, sometimes it laying on the bed, and Davis just staring at it like it was carrying a virus and could not be touched.