Strains

Sunday brunch is amazing, the food is a delicious array of breakfast offerings found all over the living world. I don’t deny myself a few sample tastes from Hercules’ plate today. I just can’t help it. And I’m glad I fell for the temptation, it makes doing the dishes afterward an easier pill to swallow.

I wasn’t expecting to do two sets of dishes in one day, but it is what it is. Sucks because I’m going to be late to meet up with Caiden, but I have a plan to make it up to him.

I smile into the elbow deep bubbles.

Yeah, I’ll definitely make it up to him.

***

My hands are full when I knock on the back door to the library. After a few minutes, the door opens. Caiden stands in the doorway, smaller than I’ve ever seen him before.

“Where are your cloaks?” I ask.

“I don’t feel like I need to wear them today,” he says and beckons me inside. I walk past him, and into the main hall of bookstacks. It’s still pitch black inside, but the fire is already going in the fireplace.

Caiden settles in his chair. He looks small in it, like it could swallow him whole. He lights some candles scattered throughout the room with a snap of his finger. The area brightens and I take in the details of the clothes he had covered for so long.

Just a plain pair of denim jeans and a light blue tee shirt. I wonder if they’re the same clothes he died in, or something he brought back from the human world. He really does look like a typical teenager.

“Aren’t you going to sit down?”

“Actually, I was going to ask if you were hungry.”

Caiden jumps up. “Oh! I can run down to the portal, sorry I should’ve gone earlier.”

I have to catch him by the shoulder before he runs out. He stiffens at my touch and I back away. I hold out the bag in my hands.

“I thought I would make you some real food,” I say quietly.

The flames in the room jump. Caiden pulls at his collar, something he’s always done that I thought was because of the heat trapped in his robes. Turns out it was nerves.

“Do you have a stove?”

He shakes his head slowly and begins to deflate. I look to the fire in the hearth that dimmed slightly.

“How good are you exactly at controlling fire?”

He smirks at me, and light dances on his cheek.

“Probably as good as you need me to be.”

I’ve never cooked over a campfire before, I’ve seen it done, but never made an attempt myself. Caiden helps me carry a stone slab from a bench from the courtyard and we position it at the edge of the fire.

As for tools, I’m limited to a paring knife, ladle and stock pot. I also have some assorted vegetables and some stock powder. Not much, but enough for a vegetable soup.

Kitchen sink meals like this were a staple in my family. Both of my parents detested grocery shopping, so they would put it off until the refrigerator was bare of everything except a box of baking soda. When I got old enough, I contributed to the meals too, treating our barebones pantry like a Chopped mystery basket.

Caiden lengthens the flames as I sauté some of the vegetables to release their flavors. The scent of sweet vegetables wafts through the library. I wonder if it’ll permeate the pages of the books above, but I guess it doesn’t matter. The books here will never be checked out again, not unless it’s my name on the checkout card. I add the stock powder and a few bottles of water. Caiden lowers the flames until only the smallest flicker remains.

We return to our seats in front of the fire.

“How long do you think it’ll be?”

“Worried you won’t be able to control your fire for that long?”

He laughs then looks at the pot.

“It’s tortuous to wait. Do you think it I turn up the heat just a tad bit…”

“Don’t you dare,” I say sternly.

He puts up his hands then crosses them. The room is so dark now, darker than we’ve had it since we’ve been here.

“Why aren’t you in your robes today?” I ask. It’s been bothering me since I got here.

“Just didn’t feel the need,” he says simply. But it can’t be that simple, he wore those layers when it was hotter than hell outside. I have a feeling he knows I’m not satisfied with his answer, but he doesn’t elaborate.

We sit and exchange passages of poetry from books that Caiden has picked out. Lots of euphemisms for dying and various interpretations of purgatory abound within the pages.

“Are these books you brought back?” I ask.

“No, this one here was brought back by a student and the one your holding crossed over when a prior student died.”

I run my hands over the spine of the book. It’s in rough shape. The cover and spine stained so that I cannot make out the title or author. Worse is that the first pages are missing. It’s too damaged to be part of a library collection, at least as far as living world standards go. But for it to have been there when a student passed, how hard must they have been clutching onto this book that it came into Near Elysium with them? This book, in the living world is damaged beyond repair and certifiable garbage; but here, in Near Elysium, it’s invaluable.

“Do you know who it belongs to? Or what the name of the book is?” I ask.

“It belongs to the library as a piece of a special collection. I figured this occasion called for something of equal value.”

The soup! I rush over to check on it. Finally the soup is done simmering, and I fill our mugs just under the brim. I had one to a grinning Caiden. His small supply of salty crackers work as a delicious and buttery garnish. It reminds me so much of the kitchen sink meals that my family ate huddled up on our couch. Warm and unbelievably cozy.

I look to Caiden, and go cold in spite of the scorching soup. He hasn’t said anything, and his body is completely still. I thought it was good, but maybe my taste buds are all screwed up from the diet food Matthew forces me to eat.

“It’s amazing, Elizabeth.”

I drop my mug from my lips.

“I mean it. Best and only meal I’ve had in too long. Thank you for giving me something so precious.”

“I’m glad you like it. It’ll make my inevitable lecture from Matthew worth it,” I chuckle then guzzle down the rest of my mug.

Caiden goes back to the pot for seconds.

“What could he possibly have to complain about this time?”

I twist a section of my hair in my fingers.

“Well, I did charge the ingredients to his account at Flynn’s stand at the Portal Pick-Up.” Caiden freezes. “In my defense, Hercules did say it was weird that Matthew hadn’t been giving me an allowance so I think that makes us square,” I say, trying to sound like I believe it.

He walks back to his seat.

“Fair point. Now that you mention it, you were missing a core class on your schedule. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before.”

“I’d have to take another class? I’d rather take a punishment than another class I’d just fail anyway.”

Caiden shakes his head.

“I know he’s new to the job but this is getting ridiculous. Core classes were designed to give a student a skill or trade, something they could rely on once they graduated. Before the portal closed, core classes were chosen by the students. Nowadays facilitators choose them, which really means every house takes the same class.”

He takes in a gulp of soup.

“Damn that’s good, now where was I? Right, core classes. Students take what they learn in class and use that knowledge to perform different duties around campus, they are given an allowance for the work they perform. You went to the Portal Pick Up today, that’s one of the outfits that the Meats perform. They use their strength to haul items from the portal, and what they learn in their economics and business classes to sell the wares they gather. Make sense?”

I nod. “So the others…” I trail off.

“Aquas handle food production and agriculture; Sparks do maintenance and engineering and the Socks handle communications. It’s all very cohesive.”

I stare into my empty mug. Where would I fit into this? I feel like a square peg being shoved into a circular hole. It’s like there’s no place for me except in the basement.

“Elizabeth?”

I look up and meet Caiden’s gaze.

“It’s Matthew’s job to place you appropriately, don’t dwell on it. I’m sure once he’s left to foot the bill at Flynn’s he’ll figure something out.”

“Yeah? Well what class did he take?”

Caiden leans back in his chair. “If I remember correctly, it may have been potions and hexes? Summoning? Some kind of magic, I don’t remember specifics.”

“There are magic classes?” My Hogwarts dreams might actually be realized!

“Not anymore. It was a waste of time, really. A class students took for an easy grade. The Council cancelled that class after only a few years.”

Damn it. Just when I thought things would get interesting around here. I serve Caiden the last of the soup and grab my pot.

“I’m going to go rinse it outside.”

“I’ll go with you, might be best to take it to the stream in the garden,” Caiden says.

“Sounds good.”

***

We walk into the garden on the edge of campus. Caiden is carrying the dirty dishes and I have the books we had been reading earlier.

“Take a seat on the bench over there, I can manage this,” he says.

“Yes, sir.”

I go to the black, iron bench lying beneath a shawl of violet wisteria blooms. I crack open the tattered poetry collection and begin reading. This is as close to Heaven that I’ve been in while here. A beautiful garden ripe with sweet smelling flowers, the slight sloshing of water being swirled around the dishes and the company of a sweet boy.

Caiden is laughing when he comes to sit beside me.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

He holds up the pot.

“I thought I recognized this thing,” he turns it upside down, dripping a few drops of water onto my shoes. There’s an inscription written at the bottom of it. It’s in the same handwriting I saw this morning on Hercules’ heavy bag.

“It’s Matthew’s?”

“It certainly looks that way. This must’ve been his ‘cauldron’ he used in his magic class. What a strange coincidence.”