Epilouge to The Giver

I guess you could call this and Epilouge, but I have to do an assignment for English where I write an extended ending to The Giver. Please critique, because I want to do really well on this assignment. Please, only people who have read the book. The ending doesn't make sence unless you've read it lately.

As Jonas regained consciousness, he sat up and took notice of his strange surroundings. He was sitting on something not very soft, which he presumed to be a bed. It was colorful, though much harder than any bed he had seen in the community. A yellow flicker caught his attention and he noticed there was a fire burning in the wall. No, not in the wall. The fireplace.

“Mama! He’s awake!” an excited girl of seven of eight said to her mother, breaking the silence. Her hair was pulled back in one un-braided bunch. Jonas tried to remember what it was called when hair was arranged that particular way, but he couldn’t exactly remember. She wore a striped shirt with many colors covering it.

The entire room was colorful, Jonas noticed. The orange flames, a vibrant red vase with small pink flowers, copper pots and pans hanging from the walls, and even the milk was colorful. A glass cup of milk sat on the counter with a beige tint to it.

“Go tend to the child, Jenny,” the girl’s mother ordered. She came over with a steaming towel for Jonas. “Lay back.”

“Lie,” Jonas corrected quietly as he did what she told him to do.

“Does it matter?” the woman inquired. She applied the damp cloth to his forehead.

“Precision of language is—used to be important,” he said. “Where is Gabe?” he asked, suddenly remembering the toddler that rode on the back of his bike the whole journey.

“Jenny is feeding him right now. She and my son, Asher, enjoy—“

“Asher?” Jonas said and popped back up. A splurge of curiosity sent Jonas’s mind doing back flips. How could his friend have gotten here?

“My son… Asher,” she said hesitantly. A tall boy, much older and different than the Asher Jonas knew, strode in and tended to the fire before helping his mother clean some dishes with soap and water. Jonas wondered why they were laboring over used plates in their own home.

“I used to know somebody who went by that name,” Jonas said, disappointed. It was only a coincidence that he should meet an Asher as soon as he left one.

Just as he thought of leaving his friends, Jonas felt a pang of remorse at who and what he had forsaken. Tears sprang to his eyes for his loss. The woman bustled around by a window, unaware of his sudden change in mood. It was still snowing outside and he shuddered at the thought that the community was taking punishment of strange weather and pain for his actions.

The girl, Jenny, returned with Gabe laughing and smiling in her arms. Jonas wiped the tears from his face and took the child as she sat on the end of his bed.

“How have you been, little guy?” He said. He realized he was using the same baby-talk his father had used and changed his tone of voice immediately. Never again would he speak as his father had. He wasn’t even Jonas’s father, technically. Jonas didn’t have a father. The man that took care of him through his life killed innocent toddlers. He no longer had a son to share his “feelings” with.

Gabe watched the fire flicker and lick the logs till they turned to cinders. The baby clapped his hands as a log fell and sent embers shooting into the smoke.

“He’s a very nice boy. Gabe is his name, right?” Jenny asked. Jonas nodded. “Especially at night; He sleeps like nothing I’ve ever seen before!”

“Oh?” Jonas said. It was strange that Gabriel could sleep so soundly without Jonas transferring memories to him. Perhaps it was the tiring journey, or maybe he had finally slept peacefully by himself.

“Yes,” the mother interjected. “He’s such a wonderful little boy.” She brought Jonas a cup of something dark and delicious smelling. He tried to remember the name of it, but he couldn’t. Memories were slipping from his recollection like water from cupped hands. Jonas sipped.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Hot chocolate. Have you never tasted it before?” Jonas shrugged. He wasn’t exactly sure if he had or not. It was most definitely familiar to him.

“Hey kid, what’s your name?” Jenny asked. Her eyes were wide and pale, but Jonas could see that she had colored eyes, not just gray shades surrounding black pupils. They were blue. They were a beautiful gray-blue rimmed with green and brown around a dot of black. Those eyes pinched him with familiarity until he realized her eyes were the same as the Giver's. The same as his.

“Do you want me to keep calling you kid, or will you tell me your proper name?” she said with attitude that would have earned her chastisement in the community.

“Giver. You can call me the Giver,” he said, bouncing the baby boy on his knee.