Page 33 of Rot

Well, if he thought I’d trip over myself just to get close to him again… he didn’t know me very well. No, I’d gotten us that intimate by egging him on, so that’s what I’d continue to do. He wanted me to stop seeing Jordan? I wouldn’t. In fact, I’d texted Jordan a lot today.

Did it matter if I was using him? No. I didn’t care.

Aunt Maggie let out a sigh once Elias was no longer in earshot. Her dirty blond hair was up in a clip, stray wisps sticking out every which way. “I thought he’d get used to you two being here, but it seems like he’s just as standoffish as ever. I really don’t know what to do with him.”

My mother didn’t even glance at her sister, which left me to hold up the conversation instead, “I don’t mind. It’s okay.” All right. So, I wasn’t great at holding up a conversation. Sue me.

“No, it’s really not,” Aunt Maggie spoke with a single shake of her head. “But I don’t know how to bring him out of it. It’s like he’s been in a mood ever since his father died. I mean, I get it, of course I do. I lost the love of my life that day, but we’re still here.” The more she talked, her eyes grew misty. “We have to keep living, make Dave proud.”

“He wasn’t like this at all before Uncle Dave died?” I asked, hedging for more information about my hot-and-cold cousin.

Aunt Maggie set her fork down. “He… he had his moments, but none of those moments lasted this long.” The pause in that sentence led me to think there was more to this, more she wasn’t saying. Maybe more she couldn’t say.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” I gave her a smile.

She seemed to accept the smile, muttering, “You’re right. I worry too much about him, like I’m sure your mother does with you.” She glanced at my mother, finally realizing she hadn’t eaten. “Something wrong with the chicken tonight?”

My mother had heavy bags beneath her eyes, as if she hadn’t been sleeping. I wondered if it had something to do with that phone call I’d overheard. “No. It’s fine. I’m not very hungry tonight. Excuse me.” She stood up, her chair scraping against the linoleum floor. Without saying another word, she headed for the basement door and disappeared, leaving me alone with my aunt and her plate to clean up.

Aunt Maggie waited a second before telling me, “Do you ever wish you had a normal family? I know I do. I wish Dave was still alive, and I also wish our parents weren’t so…” She stopped herself from saying whatever it was she was going to. “Doesn’t matter now, does it?” She didn’t wait for an answer; getting up and taking her and my mother’s plates over to the trash to scrape them off.

I decided to help her do the dishes, seeing as how we had some time alone. Maybe I could learn more about Elias.

“Can I ask you a question?” I tried to sound as innocent and naive as I could.

“Of course, honey.”

“What exactly happened that day? When Elias and Uncle Dave were hunting.” Elias didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who enjoyed hunting, but maybe that was only because he’d beefed up after losing his father, putting all his energy into being hateful and working out.

Aunt Maggie paused as she opened the dishwasher to load it. She looked at me, her hazel eyes much the same as my grandmother’s, only warmer and kinder. “Sloane…” I could tell, just by the tone she used when saying my name, she didn’t want to talk about it.

But, seeing as how no one in this house would, I had to press on. “Was it Elias?” That question could be taken in multiple ways, and I could tell just by how my aunt flinched, that I was right on the money.

“It’s not his fault,” my aunt said, loading the dishwasher. “Dave was wearing camo. Elias was aiming at a deer. It was an accident. He… he didn’t mean to.”

Elias had killed his father, albeit accidentally. Perhaps he kept that arrow as some sort of sick reminder that he’d failed his father and was the reason he was dead. Some people were nothing but balls of self-loathing. I could definitely see Elias being one of them.

“He killed him?” Just like that? One haphazard shot of his bow and he’d killed his father? I felt like there was more to this story than my aunt was letting on.

“He… he called nine-one-one. They told him to hang tight. They told him not to touch his father, not to remove the arrow, but he… he already did. Dave bled out before they arrived.” Aunt Maggie sniffed. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and closed the dishwasher before turning those eyes to me.

And then I saw something in them I was used to seeing: fear. Anxiety. Blame. Everything I saw in my own mother’s eyes when she looked at me. It struck me then that perhaps my aunt wondered if Elias had lied about the accidental part. After all, there was no way she could know, since she wasn’t there.

“It’s not his fault,” Aunt Maggie spoke, repeating it. “It’s not.” I wondered if she said it so often to make us believe it, or to make herself believe it. “He’s a good boy. He’s just… he can be troubled sometimes.” Then my aunt swept over to me and took hold of me, her hands wrapping around my upper arms.

She shook me once. “Has he been cruel to you? Has he said or done anything to you, Sloane? If he has, I’ll—” She stopped, blinking, and straightened herself out. She let go of my arms and took a step back, seeking to calm herself. “Just promise me you will tell me if he does anything.” The intensity behind her plea would’ve shocked me, if I hadn’t already been paying attention.

“I will, I promise.”

Her shoulders slumped in relief. “Good. And, please, don’t talk to Elias about the accident. He doesn’t like talking about it.”

“I won’t,” I said, though I figured it was less that Elias didn’t want to talk about it and more that he didn’t want anyone to suspect him. Maybe he had fired on his father on purpose, maybe he’d wanted to kill him. Maybe the whole deer thing was just a story no one would be able to fact-check.

Or maybe it really was an accident and I was just hoping for a kindred soul inside Elias.

Because I didn’t want to leave it on that note, I said, “I’m sorry about Uncle Dave. I wish I could’ve met him.”

Aunt Maggie forced out a smile—this one was unlike the smiles I typically gave in that she only did it to try to avoid crying. “Oh, honey.” She came toward me once again, and since I had nowhere to go, I let her—ugh—hug me. “I’m absolutely positive Dave would’ve adored you, just like I do.” She smoothed down the back of my hair as she continued to hug me.

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