Three days later most of the colony converged on the Gugino homestead and said good-bye to Bruno and Natalie, Maria, Katherina, and Enzo. They were buried where they had died; Jane and others had removed the missile debris that had fallen on them, reshaped the area with new soil, and set new sod on top. A marker was placed to note the family. At some point in the future, there might be another, larger marker, but for now it was small and simple: the family name, the name of the members, and their dates. It reminded me of my own family marker, where my biological mother lay. For some reason I found this a little bit comforting.
Magdy’s father, who had been Bruno Gugino’s closest friend, spoke warmly about the whole family. A group of singers came and sang two of Natalie’s favorite hymns from Zhong Guo. Magdy spoke, briefly and with difficulty about his best friend. When he sat back down, Gretchen was there to hold him while he sobbed. Finally we all stood and some prayed and others stood silently, with their heads bowed, thinking about missing friends and loved ones. Then people left, until it was just me and Gretchen and Magdy, standing silently by the marker.
“He loved you, you know,” Magdy said to me, suddenly.
“I know,” I said.
“No,” Magdy said, and I saw how he was trying to get across to me that he wasn’t just making comforting words. “I’m not talking about how we say we love something, or love people we just like. He really loved you, Zo?. He was ready to spend his whole life with you. I wish I could make you believe this.”
I took out my PDA, opened it to Enzo’s poem, and showed it to Magdy. “I believe it,” I said.
Magdy read the poem, nodded. Then he handed the PDA back to me. “I’m glad,” he said. “I’m glad he sent that to you. I used to make fun of him because he wrote you those poems. I told him that he was just being a goof.” I smiled at that. “But now I’m glad he didn’t listen to me. I’m glad he sent them. Because now you know. You know how much he loved you.”
Magdy broke down as he tried to finish that sentence. I came up to him and held him and let him cry.
“He loved you too, Magdy,” I said to him. “As much as me. As much as anyone. You were his best friend.”
“I loved him too,” Magdy said. “He was my brother. I mean, not my real brother…” He started to get a look on his face; he was annoyed with himself that he wasn’t expressing himself like he wanted.
“No, Magdy,” I said. “You were his real brother. In every way that matters, you were his brother. He knew you thought of him that way. And he loved you for it.”
“I’m sorry, Zo?,” Magdy said, and looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry I always gave you and Enzo a hard time. I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” I said, gently. “Stop that. You were supposed to give us a hard time, Magdy. Giving people a hard time is what you do. Ask Gretchen.”
“It’s true,” Gretchen said, not unkindly. “It really is.”
“Enzo thought of you as his brother,” I said. “You’re my brother too. You have been all this time. I love you, Magdy.”
“I love you too, Zo?,” Magdy said quietly, and then looked straight at me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I gave him another hug. “Just remember that as your new family member I’m now entitled to give you all sorts of crap.”
“I can’t wait,” Magdy said, and then turned to Gretchen. “Does this make you my sister too?”
“Considering our history, you better hope not,” Gretchen said. Magdy laughed at that, which was a good sign, then gave me a peck on a cheek, gave Gretchen a hug, and then walked from the grave of his friend and brother.
“Do you think he’s going to be okay?” I asked Gretchen, as we watched him go.
“No,” Gretchen said. “Not for a long time. I know you loved Enzo, Zo?, I really do, and I don’t want this to sound like I’m trying to undercut that. But Enzo and Magdy were two halves of the same whole.” She nodded to Magdy. “You lost someone you love. He’s lost part of himself. I don’t know if he’s going to get over that.”
“You can help him,” I said.
“Maybe,” Gretchen said. “But think about what you’re asking me to do.”
I laughed. It’s why I loved Gretchen. She was the smartest girl I ever knew, and smart enough to know that being smart had its own repercussions. She could help Magdy, all right, by becoming part of what he was missing. But it meant her being that, one way or another, for the rest of their lives. She would do it, because when it came down to it she really did love Magdy. But she was right to worry about what it meant for her.
“Anyway,” Gretchen said, “I’m not done helping someone else.”
I snapped out of my thoughts at that. “Oh,” I said. “Well. You know. I’m okay.”
“I know,” Gretchen said. “I also know you lie horribly.”
“I can’t fool you,” I said.
“No,” Gretchen said. “Because what Enzo was to Magdy, I am to you.”
I hugged her. “I know,” I said.
“Good,” Gretchen said. “Whenever you forget, I’ll remind you.”
“Okay,” I said. We unhugged and Gretchen left me alone with Enzo and his family, and I sat with them for a long time.
Four days later, a note from Dad from a skip drone from Phoenix Station.
A miracle, it said. I’m not headed for prison. We are heading back on the next supply ship. Tell Hickory and Dickory that I will need to speak to them when I return. Love you.
There was another note for Jane, but she didn’t tell me what was in it.