“Alex! I’m not messing around! You need to answer this door right now!”
Dark hair tumbling into his eyes, Alex cants his head to one side, his expression rueful. “See.” He climbs off me, and that icy dread sinks it’s claws deeper. I want to grab hold of him and make him stay. Locked away here in our little bubble, whatever madness exists outside can’t affect us. Can’t hurt us.
Glancing down, Alex notices the fact that his hard-on is still tenting his sweatpants. He laughs breathlessly as he reaches down the front of his pants and tucks his dick into his waistband in an attempt to hide it. “Don’t look so sad, dolcezza. No chance this thing’s going anywhere any time soon. I’m harder than fucking reinforced steel. Give me two seconds. Here.” He takes hold of me by the wrist, guiding my hand down in between my own legs. “I want you shaking and trembling by the time I get back. No coming, though. I’ll punish the shit out of you if you rob me of that.”
I watch him put on a t-shirt, frozen in place and in time. Later, this moment will replay itself on a loop in my head. I’ll recall the way the muscles in Alex’s broad back shifted so beautifully as he worked his arms into his shirt and pulled it lazily over his head. I won’t be able to forget the slow, confident smile he throws over his shoulder at me as he steps over his guitar case and leaves the bedroom, drawing the door half-closed behind him. I’ll still be smelling the rich, doughy, enticing aroma of fresh bread emanating from the bakery across the road, and it will still be turning my stomach…
Mechanically, I inch myself toward the edge of the bed. My arms and legs are wooden and uncooperative as I tug on a sweater and a pair of jeans. Basic manners dictate that it’d rude to follow after him, I should give him space to have a private conversation with his social worker, but manners and etiquette don’t seem important right now. I need to be with Alex. I can feel it. I know it.
The air in the hallway is a solid ten degrees colder than in the bedroom. A gust of biting wind snakes its way past the two figures standing in the doorway up ahead; it knifes straight through the black hoody I just pulled on, making my skin break out in goosebumps.
A high-pitched ringing sound mutes my hearing as I take each step forward.
You’re wrong. You’re being fucking paranoid. Stop overreacting. Offer to make a pot of coffee or something. Seriously, chill the fuck out, girl…
My little pep talk falls on deaf ears.
Three feet away, Alex reaches out and takes a hold of the door, his knuckles turning white as he grasps at the wood. “What?”
“I know. I know, Alex, look…let me in, okay. There’s a lot of information to unpack here. You should be sitting—”
“You’re lying.” Alex’s shoulder blades knit together beneath his t-shirt. The tension he’s radiating is even more shocking than the cold. “This is her, I know it is. Jackie’s concocted this bullshit story to cut ties with me for good. She wants to make sure I never see him again, and you…you’re going along with it for some reason. Why…why the fuck would you do that?” His voice is soft, but he’s tripping all over his words.
Right behind him now, I peer around his arm, making eye contact with Maeve. I’ve only seen her the once, that time at Raleigh. She was wearing an elegant grey pantsuit, the collar of her shirt pressed into a sharp fold. Her dark hair was swept back into a practical bun. This woman looks nothing like the person who argued Alex’s case with Darhower. She’s dressed in track pants and a massive sweater with the words, ‘SPIRITUAL GANGSTER’ emblazoned across the front. The messy top knot on the crown of her head looks like rats have been nesting in it, and the tell-tale black smudge of yesterday’s mascara beneath each of her eyes implies that she didn’t wash her face this morning before she rushed out of the house.
She shakes her head, her voice, rough with emotion, catching in her throat. “You think I’m that cruel? You don’t think I’m on your side? After everything that’s happened?”
Alex notices that I’m behind him. He moves an inch to the side, making room for me, but his eyes don’t break away from Maeve. “If you’re not complicit, then she’s fooling you too,” he says gruffly. “You know how bad she wants to keep him. She’ll do anything to make sure I don’t get Ben back.”
Maeve drops her head, her eyes closing for a beat. When she opens them, she doesn’t look up. She stares down at the keys in her hands, rubbing the pad of her thumb against a gold disc that’s attached to the fob. “I wish…that were true. If that were the case, it’d be simple. We’d track them down and find them. But…I was just at the funeral home, Alex. I…I saw Ben. It was him. He’s been there almost a week now. There was some kind of admin mix up. They couldn’t figure out who they needed to call.”
Alex backs away, shaking his head. He stumbles, barely bothering to correct his footing as he attempts a hasty retreat. “Bullshit,” he hisses. “Fucking bullshit. Jackie…she found a way to…I’m telling you, this is just Jackie…”
“This isn’t pretend, Alex. I’m not making it up.” Maeve sounds like she’s on the other side of the world, speaking down a really bad telephone line. My ears are trying to block out what she’s saying. “She was at the funeral home, too, okay? Her injuries were catastrophic. She…she didn’t make it, either.”
Alex stops, slumping sideways against the wall. He looks at me, a tiny frown marring his brow, his chest not moving, and my heart fucking shatters and breaks. I haven’t heard Maeve say it. I haven’t heard him say it, either, but the words are there, like an IED I’ve unwittingly stepped on, blowing up, and blowing up, and blowing up, the explosion never fucking ending.
Ben’s dead.
Something awful has happened.
Alex’s brother is gone.
DAY ONE
Idon’tknowwhattodoDadhejustkeepsstaringatthewallIcan’tdoanythingforhimIcan’thelphimpleasetellmewhatI’msupposedtodo…
DAY TWO
“Please, Baby. You’ve got to eat something. Can you just try? You’re gonna make yourself ill. Alex? Alex?”
DAY THREE
“They asked what you want him to wear. I can…I can go to the store and get a suit or something? What do you think? I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to deal with this, but they say they need to know…”
DAY FOUR
“I DON’T WANT A FUCKING PIECE OF TOAST, OKAY! JUST PUT…PUT THE BREAD DOWN, SILVER!
Fuck.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. God, I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Jesus fucking Christ. I’m…you shouldn’t be around me right now. You really need to go.”
DAY FIVE
“When will we have given enough? When will we have lost enough? There’s no one out there, keeping track of how much pain we’re dealt…how much we’re asked to bear…and that’s the most terrifying thing, Silver.