I didn’t know how to feel about seeing my father, knowing that he had kept the truth from me all those years but not knowing why. Then again, I had also wanted to believe the best in my mother up until the end. But my father was the only one who could give me real information, and before Brody, he had been the only one I could trust, which was why his lie stung a little bit more than I expected. But I knew everyone deserved another chance. I had used a few up myself.
My father had built up this wonderfully impossible image of what my mother had been. Maybe after she left, he even romanticized. That was in his nature. He was a lover of fiction and books, and more than anything, my father deserved a happily ever after because he was a good man, too good for my mom.
When we arrived at their new house, which was in a small neighborhood near D. C., I felt a stab of jealousy. Smith told me they found a library position for my father, which was good for him, and then there was their cute little home complete with a white fence, well-manicured shrubs, and a porch swing. Smith also informed me that with blood samples from me and Isi, they could compare our DNA makeup to that of my sisters, and they were almost positive that neither of my sisters would shift. I shouldn’t have been jealous that they were happy, but I was. They were going to be able to live a normal life. I was condemned to always be on the run. To always keep secrets.
When I walked into the foyer, I stopped and smelled the air. It smelled like fresh-cut flowers, and vases of all different types of wildflowers that my sisters had surely picked were set up. My sisters ran to me when they saw me, and I hugged them tightly, patting their auburn hair and rubbing their freckles. I told them to be good and that I would see them soon. The closer I was to them, the more danger they would be in.
My dad led me through French doors into a sunlit room. It was his office. He brought me to a couch that was up against the wall and held my hand and waited for me to tell him about the mission, about what was going to happen next.
I didn’t mess around. There wasn’t time. “Mom’s gone.” He looked down at his hand holding mine. When he didn’t say anything, I continued. “I killed her.” Only then did he look up at me with pain in his eyes. I saw tears forming. “Say something, Dad.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, are you crying because you’re upset with me? Are you ashamed I killed someone? Are you sad she’s dead?” My anger built. “You know that she was there to kill me, right?” He shook his head, tears falling down.
“Meda, stop.” He let go of my hand and wiped his face. “Of course I’m sad your mother is dead. I’m heartbroken.” He shook his head again. “There was always a part of me that thought she would come back.” My mouth formed a thin line. I couldn’t believe what he was saying.
“Dad, this woman was going to kill me.”
“That woman was still your mother.” His tone was stern, like he was scolding me.
I jumped up and backed away from him. “Who are you?”
My dad stood and moved towards me. “I’m sorry, Meda. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I mean, this is difficult. I know it had to be difficult for you. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through in the last year.” I watched emotions play out in his eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hardly recognize you as my daughter. I just…with all you’ve been through, I don’t want you to forget that there is good. There was good in this family. Please don’t forget that.”
“What do you see now when you look at me if you don’t see your daughter?” My dad moved forward and grabbed me in a hug. I let him hug me, but I couldn’t speak. I knew that if I did say something, it would come out wrong. I knew it would be best if I had time, if he had time.
We stood like that for a while. Finally, when he let go, I cleared my throat. “I better get going.” He didn’t say anything, so I turned and made my way to the front door. He didn’t stop me; he followed me, like a shadow.
I opened the door and half turned. I wouldn’t let go of the handle because I didn’t want him to hug me again, not at that moment. He lifted his hand in a wave. I did the same and then walked out, closing the door behind me. I realized I used to be like my dad, trying to push away the bad and only see the good. Only see what I wanted to see, but I was beyond that now. I guessed I had changed.
Brody was behind the wheel. I slipped in the passenger seat. He looked at me and could tell there was something wrong. He reached out his hand, and I put mine in his. “Want to talk about it?” he asked. I shook my head.
He only briefly took his hand away to put the car in gear, and then his palm returned to mine, and we drove that way for a while, each mile unraveling the tangle of emotions I felt inside.
The freeway turned into a highway, and the highway turned into winding dirt roads. We stopped at a few gas stations and rest stops, got some snacks, and continued on the road. I didn’t know where we were going, and I was perfectly fine with that. I watched the trees go by. My only experiences in the country were with my father and when I was first taken by Brody, Aaron, and Dan. Needless to say, I didn’t have good memories of the wilderness.
After hours of driving, we made our way down one last windy country road. I could make out a small cottage in the distance.
When Brody pulled next to the building, I asked, “What are we doing?”
“I thought it would be nice to get away,” he answered and studied me, waiting for my reaction. Before I could respond, he continued. “I thought we needed to change your perspective of the country. Don’t laugh at me,” he said preemptively. “I was hoping one day we would be able to find a place to settle down.”
Speechless, I shook my head. “What do you mean? One day? Settle down?” I couldn’t make sense of those words, especially the use of “we.”
“We both know the Opposition needs you, not only for their own reasons, but to help people like you and families like yours. But one day, when we decide we’ve done enough, we will live our lives for us, not them.”
I laughed. “Do you forget we’re only seventeen?” Brody flushed red. “I didn’t mean that, about me and you, I mean. I meant that it seems like you have our lives planned out. Some of the missions are dangerous. How can you be sure we’ll get the chance…?” I couldn’t finish. I didn’t want to sound hopeless, but after all I had seen, I wasn’t so sure about life after missions.
“Meda, if it ever gets too dangerous, if they stop caring about you and only care about the mission, I promise you I’ll take you away. In fact, if you told me right now that you were done, I would love to disappear with you.” I went to speak, but Brody cut me off. “Now, I know you wouldn’t do that, but I’m just saying. I’m with you to the end. And I didn’t mean to make it sound like you were stuck with me. I’m not proposing marriage. But this is what seventeen-year-olds would do. You know, seventeen-year-olds with no adult supervision. They are irresponsible.” He grinned and took a deep breath. “I love you.”
“I love you, Brody. I would love to disappear for a little while.”
“See, I always knew you were capable of doing the right thing.”
author biography
Christina Hagmann grew up in rural Wisconsin, climbing trees, swimming in creeks (pronounced “cricks”), and running amok. She began reading Stephen King in 5th grade and was hooked. That year she wrote her first short story, and she’s been making up stories ever since. When not writing short stories and novels, Christina can be found spending time with her family, coaching, teaching English, and reading anything and everything.
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