Illinois held Kansas in one arm and a fat stack of letters in the other.
“Do you want me to read them to you?” asked Illinois, taking a seat by the bed,
“I think they’re all notices of secession. Do you want me to read them to you anyway, Dad?”
America barely responded with a blink. He’d seemed extraordinarily uninterested in everything, even Kansas — no, especially Kansas. All the other states, at least the states that had stayed by his side, had to take turns taking care of her.
Illinois flipped through the letters anyway. “There’s a notice from Alabama, and Mississippi; Louisiana’s left us too…” muttered illinois, until he settled on an envelope that was a bit different from the others. “And a message from Russia.”
“Russia?”
“Should I open it?”
“…”
Illinois set the other letters on his lap and tore Russia’s open and began reading. “America, I regret that you have such unruly children, but looking back, it seems inevitable…” he flinched as it sounded like he skipped a few paragraphs, “Nonetheless, for your aid in the Crimean War, I would like to reciprocate. Not because it is my concern how you raise your children, but rather, but because it is inevitable. It is your boss’s decision whether to accept, but upon your request, I may find the time to visit your myself. Be well — Russia.”
“No.”
“You sure?” asked Illinois.
“Mn.”
“Okay…” Illinois shifted Kansas in his arm a bit as he thumbed through the rest of the envelopes, naming more states — Georgia, Florida, and then Texas.
“This one’s real thick. Do you want me to open it?”
America didn’t say anything. He was too occupied thinking he couldn’t let Russia see him like this, in the care of his children because he couldn’t get up and had started losing feeling in his toes.
Illinois seemed to take this nonresponse as a yes — they all had started to do that — and opened the letter anyway. It seemed to explode with papers, all stuffed into that envelope. He tried to pry out the papers carefully, but with his hand so limited by the baby, the papers fell and scattered except for the few at the bottom. A small sheet from the bottom caught his eye. He picked it out and read. “America. I have finally found the time to read your letters. They tell a fine story. I regret that I cannot be a part of it. —Texas.”
He picked up as many letters as he could, unfolding a few carefully. “What are these? Washington? Where did all these come from?”
Yesterday, the new boss had ordered that America stop trying to give his children their things back, but this was different. Those letters, he’d wanted them for so long, he’d thought he had lost them, and now even though they were all so bitter Texas had still thought to send them back.
Re: United We Stand [9/?]
“Do you want me to read them to you?” asked Illinois, taking a seat by the bed,
“I think they’re all notices of secession. Do you want me to read them to you anyway, Dad?”
America barely responded with a blink. He’d seemed extraordinarily uninterested in everything, even Kansas — no, especially Kansas. All the other states, at least the states that had stayed by his side, had to take turns taking care of her.
Illinois flipped through the letters anyway. “There’s a notice from Alabama, and Mississippi; Louisiana’s left us too…” muttered illinois, until he settled on an envelope that was a bit different from the others. “And a message from Russia.”
“Russia?”
“Should I open it?”
“…”
Illinois set the other letters on his lap and tore Russia’s open and began reading. “America, I regret that you have such unruly children, but looking back, it seems inevitable…” he flinched as it sounded like he skipped a few paragraphs, “Nonetheless, for your aid in the Crimean War, I would like to reciprocate. Not because it is my concern how you raise your children, but rather, but because it is inevitable. It is your boss’s decision whether to accept, but upon your request, I may find the time to visit your myself. Be well — Russia.”
“No.”
“You sure?” asked Illinois.
“Mn.”
“Okay…” Illinois shifted Kansas in his arm a bit as he thumbed through the rest of the envelopes, naming more states — Georgia, Florida, and then Texas.
“This one’s real thick. Do you want me to open it?”
America didn’t say anything. He was too occupied thinking he couldn’t let Russia see him like this, in the care of his children because he couldn’t get up and had started losing feeling in his toes.
Illinois seemed to take this nonresponse as a yes — they all had started to do that — and opened the letter anyway. It seemed to explode with papers, all stuffed into that envelope. He tried to pry out the papers carefully, but with his hand so limited by the baby, the papers fell and scattered except for the few at the bottom. A small sheet from the bottom caught his eye. He picked it out and read. “America. I have finally found the time to read your letters. They tell a fine story. I regret that I cannot be a part of it. —Texas.”
He picked up as many letters as he could, unfolding a few carefully. “What are these? Washington? Where did all these come from?”
Yesterday, the new boss had ordered that America stop trying to give his children their things back, but this was different. Those letters, he’d wanted them for so long, he’d thought he had lost them, and now even though they were all so bitter Texas had still thought to send them back.