Page 14 of Chemistry: The Chemist

His soldiers were marching, but seemingly to the wrong tune. If his life ended before a son of mine entered the world, balance would not be possible.

My silence was the bane of her existence. She’d give everything in her bank account to know what I was thinking most times. The window she wished my eyes were to my soul, she’d pay to have built.

“Chemistry.”

The halting of the keys led her eyes to mine. I massaged the hair that had begun to thicken on my face. Though I’d always kept it low and manicured, the length added definition to my face, framing it much better. I was fucking with it.

“Your father is dying.”

“He’s your father as well.”

Her shoulders hunched forward. Though she didn’t voice her insecurities and fears as they related to the topic of conversation, I sensed them. In her eyes, where I’d built the windows she dreamed of. And from her posture.

“How long, Chem?”

“A year at best.”

Softened eyes etched away at the cage around my heart. This wasn’t how or where I wanted to share this news, but I hardly had a choice. Roulette was the closest I had to a friend.

The others had proved to be enemies. And the one whose loyalty was not up for question was a member of a family in The Triad. Confiding in him was not an option.

“A year,” she repeated, falling apart inside while keeping a straight face as she stared back at me.

“You don’t have t–”

“Shut up.” She choked, twisting her chair until her pretty face was hidden and I could no longer see her broken heart through the bay window I sat at often.

But, I could still feel it. I, too, had one. And they were bleeding in harmony. Together. As a unit.

Sniffles of hers pushed a sigh from my lips. Baby was hurting. And unlike other times, I couldn’t stop her pain. Though I hadn’t expressed it, I shared the same pain. That hurt she felt, I felt that shit, too.

Two snaps of my fingers and her eyes were on me again. Dried, but coated with redness, they studied me.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t made good on my promise. I haven’t fallen through. And it’s fucking with me.”

“He wants you to give us a son.”

“Needs me to.”

“Chemistry, that’s asking a lot of you in such a short amount of time.”

“I wasted a lot more, baby.”

“I know, but damn. How are you feeling?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Her lack of response made my flesh crawl. The way she could pull things from me was impossible and made me uncomfortable. Simultaneously, it was comforting. Because, if no one else, I knew there was always Roulette.

I gambled my life every time I stepped into her office. Admittedly, I was addicted to the thrill. She preferred the challenge.

In so many ways, she was as twisted as our father, as twisted as her brother. It was no secret. Our siblings knew it. So did her mother.

“Cornered,” I released. “But it doesn’t fucking matter.”

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