Life After Legend Read online

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  “Mister Wing.”

  I look up from staring through the airplane window at the clouds, my hands messing with my paper clip ring. The attendant has come over to Eden and me to hand us both a couple of forms. “We’ll be landing shortly,” he says, nodding briefly at me.

  Eden adjusts his glasses and grins. “Are you ready?”

  I smile back, my own joy cautious and restrained, and return to staring outside. “Ready enough,” I reply. Through the window, I can see the sprawling grid of Los Angeles materializing under the clouds, the downtown skyscrapers sitting along the shores of that familiar lake, the coast dotted with Republic warships. It looks just like how I remember: darker than Antarctica, grayer, grittier.

  Tess will be here.

  We land, are inspected by Republic officials. Then we’re escorted into a car that takes us to the apartment where we’ll be staying while Eden interviews for his internship. An engineering position in Batalla sector. The words repeat in my head, strange and surreal.

  As we drive through the city, I notice a headline rotating on the JumboTrons.

  EDEN BATAAR WING IN LOS ANGELES TO INTERVIEW FOR BATALLA ENGINEERING POSITION

  I guess the Republic still remembers us. The sun is setting over the city by the time Eden and I are finally settled in our apartment. As we step out of the complex and head toward the parking structure where our car waits, I glance at my brother. “Excited for dinner?” I ask him.

  He pushes his glasses up a little and practically beams. “Excited?” he replies. “We haven’t seen Tess in . . . I don’t even know. She was a kid the last time we were together.”

  I laugh. “You were a kid the last time you were together.” I smile at the slight pink in his cheeks. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you planning this dinner with her.”

  “Just glad to see an old friend,” Eden says as his blush deepens. I shrug and let it drop, though a smirk plays at the edges of my lips.

  “Oh!” Eden suddenly exclaims. He snaps his fingers. “Forgot her gift.” I roll my eyes as he turns us around to go back to our apartment.

  As we walk, Eden chats energetically about the details of his proposal, constantly pushing the sleeves of his collared shirt up to his elbows and gesturing in midair. I listen quietly. Mom and John would be proud of you. I look for hints of them in his mannerisms, in his long stride and his quick smile.

  “And when I see Tess, I’ll tell her about the hospital wing addition I’m planning for—” Eden interrupts himself to give me a quizzical glance. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  I laugh. “Because you’re talking like a little man,” I reply. “All this coming from the kid who used to shoot homemade darts at the backsides of street police.”

  “Hey, I can still do that, you know,” Eden retorts with a grin.

  I raise a teasing eyebrow at him. “And now look at you,” I reply, shoving him. “I’m sure Tess will be very impressed.”

  The blush flares on Eden’s cheeks. “I am not trying to impress Tess. I—well—hey, laugh all you want, because you’re about to turn beet red at dinner tonight too, and I’m looking forward to it.”

  I shake my head at him, still grinning. “What are you talking about?”

  Eden changes the topic, needling my curiosity. He goes back to discussing his engineering plans and I settle into his animated ramblings again. But then, as we near the apartment complex, I spot a young woman walking in our direction.

  My attention wavers from Eden to her.

  She looks far too young to be wearing such a high-ranking Republic uniform, and her hair is long and dark, spilling loose down her shoulders. Her movements are graceful, as if she was born into wealth, but there’s something humble about the bow of her head, the pensiveness of her features. My gaze lingers on her face. Damn. She’s gorgeous. And the thought feels so oddly familiar, the wave of déjà vu so intense, that I suddenly feel like I’m walking into the past, staring at someone I must have once known.

  She seems to notice us, but she keeps her head down as we draw closer. Beside me, Eden pauses in the middle of his sentence to cast her a surprised look. No, not surprise. Something else. Recognition? Was she one of Eden’s friends? My brother peers at me as if he’s searching for my reaction too.

  The woman meets my eyes briefly.

  I’m hit with an overwhelming sensation, a feeling so strong that, for an instant, I can barely breathe. There’s something teetering right on the edge of my memory, but it’s just out of reach.

  Silently, we pass each other. My heart is beating out of control and my lungs feel like they’re burning. My pulse is echoing in my ears as I take one deep breath in to calm myself.

  Eden is looking at me with an odd expression now. Like he knows what just happened. Without a word, he slows, glances over his shoulder in the woman’s direction, and gives me a pointed look.

  Go talk to her, he mouths at me.

  My boots crunch to a halt too. I turn around to stare at her back. And that’s when, in a rush, I realize that her figure walking away is what I see in my dreams. The girl with the long dark ponytail, whom I always chase after and yet can never catch up to.

  This is her.

  I start moving. My hurried steps click against the pavement. I wonder if maybe I am dreaming again, and if I’ll startle awake in my bed back in Antarctica. I think she’s going to keep walking, and that I will keep chasing, and that I’ll never get any closer to her.

  Except this time, she halts. She looks over her shoulder at me. This time, I catch up to her.

  I don’t even know what to say. All I can do is stare at her, searching in vain for words. She stares back at me with her wide, dark, gold-flecked eyes. Stunning. I know this face. My mind struggles frantically to place her.

  “Excuse me,” I finally say. “Have we met before?”

  I don’t know what I expected her to say in return. A flash of emotion crosses her eyes, but it’s there and gone so quickly that I can’t be sure of it. When she does speak, her voice is calm and steady. “No,” she murmurs. “Sorry.”

  That voice. But I know that voice.

  I frown, confused, and run a hand through my hair. For some reason, the paper clip ring sits heavy on my finger. “Oh,” I reply, trying to turn my thoughts into something coherent. How can I tell her what’s going through my mind? I’ve seen you in my dreams. In glimpses. Fragments. I know the sight of you walking away. “I’m sorry to bother you, then. I just . . .” I frown again. Perhaps I’m just crazy. “You look really familiar. Are you sure we don’t know each other from somewhere?”

  She studies my gaze in silence, as if she’s trying to remember something too. Or maybe she’s looking for something in me. My mind searches, desperately trying to place where she belongs.

  I’ve seen you before.

  My eyes go to her lips. I know those lips. A memory of me kissing her deeply, of her kissing me back. My eyes dart to her hands resting at her sides. I know those hands. A memory of me pulling her to her feet as a cloud of dust surrounds us. I look at her dark hair, her heart-shaped face, her small chin. I know this face. A memory of that chin resting against my shoulder, of her huddled beside me in a rocking train car.

  The memories come faster now, scattered pieces of a once-finished puzzle.

  A memory of her standing over me, stern and furious, then of her sitting on top of a building, drenched with rain, wounded and tight-jawed with hidden emotion. Of her in an underground bunker, her brow damp with fever. Of me carrying her in my arms. Of her whispering to me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. A memory of us at night, together, asleep, her body pressed against mine.

  I can see her face in my dreams, finally matching the figure of her walking away.

  I shake my head. “I have known you,” I murmur. “A lon
g time ago. I don’t know where, but I think I know why.”

  I think she will step away from me, assume I’m crazy, and the thought fills me with terror. But instead, she just stares at me. Her eyes are moist. “Why, then?” she asks me gently.

  Because I loved you once. Because you loved me.

  I move closer, so that I can see the gold glittering in her eyes. “I’m sorry. This is going to sound so strange. I . . .” I grasp for the right words. “I’ve been searching a long time for something I think I lost.”

  A memory of her bent over me, crying, begging me not to go.

  “It’s not strange at all,” she says.

  I can’t help smiling at her, desperate for her to speak again. “I felt like I found something when I saw you back there. Are you sure . . .” I take a deep breath. “Do you know me? Do I know you?”

  Did we love each other once?

  My body stills as I wait for her reply. When she finally speaks, she says, “I have to go meet up with some friends.”

  “Oh.” My heart sinks; the tide of my emotions ebbs away, leaving me cold. I feel like a fool, standing here spilling the wild thoughts in my head to some random person. “Sorry,” I reply, unsure of myself now. “I do too, actually.” I glance back at Eden, who is walking toward us with a sly grin on his lips. “An old friend down in Ruby.”

  This. This is what gets her. Her eyes widen in understanding. “Is your friend’s name Tess?” she asks hesitantly.

  Tess. I blink. “You know her,” I say, smiling.

  “Yes,” she replies, the look in her eyes a mixture of fear and hope. “I’m having dinner with her tonight.”

  I blink again. My eyes dart to Eden. In a flash, I realize that this is what he’d meant earlier, the cryptic reason he’s looking forward to my reaction at dinner. I look back at the woman.

  June. Her name is June.

  “I do remember,” I say. “It’s you.”

  “Is it?” she whispers, her voice trembling now.

  Her name is June. And even in the midst of my broken memories, I know this with complete clarity. Her name is June, and once upon a time, I’d given my entire heart to her.

  “I hope,” I reply softly, “to get to know you again. If you’re open to it. There is a fog around you that I would like to clear away.”

  She says nothing. Maybe she doesn’t remember me. But I study her face, those familiar, beautiful eyes, and I know that she does. I can see the memories appearing before her too, from a time when we were both young and innocent. I remember an old wish, returning to me. I’d always wanted to meet her like this.

  And I find myself seeing things again. Sparks. Flashes. They are not memories now, but possibilities. I see myself at dinner with her, repairing the shattered pieces in my mind. I see us lingering afterward in front of her door, nervous, smiling, awkward. I see us sitting in a park together during summer, overlooking the city, laughing at each other’s jokes, then wandering in the winter air through a carnival, her arm looped through mine, me brushing new snowfall from her hair. I see us dancing together, the teasing tilt of her head, the way I take her by the hand and spin her back into my arms, the way my hand rests at the small of her back. I see myself whispering in her ear at night, her whispering back to me, her fingers running through my hair. I see myself working by lamplight, creating the perfect ring for her out of paper clips. I see myself anxious and pacing, reciting words in front of a mirror, getting down on one knee before her. I see her in a dress, smiling, my arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

  I see an entire life before me, forever intertwined with hers.

  She doesn’t move. She’s waiting for me, her eyes pleading silently for me to act first. So I do. I reach out and take her hand in mine, an embrace that quickly becomes a handshake. And just like that, we are linked again, she is here with me, I am with her, and a piece of my heart is put back together. The tears come swiftly, and I blink them away.

  I loved you. I love you still. I want to be with you.

  “Hi,” I say. “I’m Daniel.”

  “Hi,” she replies. “I’m June.”

 

 

  Marie Lu, Life After Legend

 

 

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