Originally hosted on https://illoria.wixsite.com/annamittower/anthology-of-speculative-scribbles
Natalie's sigh didn't escape Miklin's hearing as he collapsed into the sole unoccupied armchair. Natalie occupied the other one as she had almost every single day since her accident. That one didn't have as many worn spots and enough cushion remained to prevent the springs from poking through. His chair had at least three springs which vied to poke him in his rear end at the moment. That was one more than last week, Miklin mused, and he wondered exactly how much longer the armchair would last.
The rest of their tiny apartment sported more of the same wear and tear, with Miklin's own additions and fixes to keep what remained working, but even that wouldn't last past another few months. The Chandler family had never been rich to begin with so the brother and sister were well accustomed to stretching out everything from food to clothes. And life had worked out just fine until last year.
"No luck again?"
Natalie's quiet voice broke his spiral of negative ponderings.
"No. None at all. I even revisited that guy over at the docks who said to come back after the latest ship arrived. He did let me work for a few hours, but he's being decidedly cagey about any future work. And he paid me under the table as well. I get the feeling that he wants to hire me, but he's worried about pressure coming down from on high." Miklin snorted roughly. "That bastard."
Natalie made no sound, but Miklin knew that her face, if he looked, would bear a sad expression. He slapped himself mentally for bringing up such a dark topic.
"The amount he did pay me, however, means that we have food for the week and possibly enough for a little extra. I think he threw in a little bonus after I told him it was your birthday tomorrow." Miklin smiled at her and leaned over to gently squeeze her hand. "How about it? Cake? A special treat? Anything you want, Nat."
That did manage to lift the corners of her mouth and she returned the squeeze with both of hers. "I don't need something fancy for my birthday, Mik. We should use it for something we actually need."
Her words tore at his heart, but he forced a grin. "If that's what you want for your birthday, Nat, then that's what we'll do. Your choice. Now, you've stayed up long enough waiting for my return. Let's get you ready for bed."
"Alright. I am tired." She lifted both her arms and laced them behind his head as he bent to gather her in his arms.
She was so light now, that even he, weak as he was from lack of food, could carry her easily. He acted as her legs while she prepared for bed. The tight quarters made maneuvering tricky, but after an entire year of practice, he accomplished it without adding a single scratch or a bruise to his precious sister.
After sending her to bed, he closed off the alcove with a thin curtain and returned to the living space. His stomach chose then to grumble loudly.
"Shut it." He punched his stomach, thankful that it had held off complaining till after Natalie went to bed. He hadn't told her that their food had only lasted so long over the past few weeks due to him skipping meals.
If he didn't find a steady job soon, the pair of them would probably starve to death. It had taken him quite a bit of effort today persuading the dockside manager to even get hired. If the wrong someone noticed him working, the news would work its way back up the chain to that bastard and then even the manager would feel the backlash. But the man had softened his stance after hearing that it was Natalie's birthday. Everyone on the station might be totally opposed to hiring him or doing anything to help him, but for Natalie they still had sympathy and small gifts appeared now and then in their dropbox. The gifts bore no names, but he and Natalie could guess the giver occasionally.
He wondered how many of these anonymous helpers would remember Natalie's birthday. It might have been disingenuous of him, but he had spread the news of her birthday to everyone he had talked to in the past week, hoping that the news would reach the ears of those who might be kind enough to help them out one last time.
Miklin sagged back into the armchair, rubbing his stomach. He would have to eat something or else he wouldn't have the energy for his daily job hunt the next day. With a groan, he pushed himself up off of the three annoying springs and rifled through the nearly bare pantry. He grabbed a nootbar in the flavor that Natalie hated and broke it in half. It would be enough for now and breakfast.
The bar tasted like a mix of sawdust and cardboard, but it did contain the needed nutrients for survival so he forced it down with some water. The water didn't taste right, but it had always tasted funny since they'd switched to the cheaper, but less pure, recycled water. It tasted even worse now that their water filter had reached the end of its life. Perhaps Natalie would appreciate it if he used her birthday money to replace the filter.
Miklin woke the next morning to the rattle of the dropbox lid. He stumbled sleepily out of bed to check it. The clock read 04:30, nearly four hours before first shift would begin, but most gifts arrived at odd hours when less people were about to tell tales. As he surmised, the box contained a small package. He smiled after opening it. The gift contained Natalie's favorite cookies which could only be imported from planetside. Even before their descent into abject poverty, these were a special treat reserved only for birthdays and holidays. Natalie would be excited to see these.
He hid the package under his bed to surprise her with later, and quietly slid out of the door. She wouldn't wake for another few hours. He would take the time now to buy the necessary items.
Hardly anyone walked the passageways and few of the shops were open at this hour aside from all hour eateries. However, Miklin knew where to look for the cheaper shops which catered to those stuck on the nightshift. In these he found more nootbars and other preserved food to partially fill their pantry. True to Natalie's wish, he spent the bonus on a single necessary item: a water filter.
It was on his return that he heard someone calling his name in a whisper.