Page 55 of Unwrapping Deviance

With the dust and grime the old man had let accumulate over the years polished and washed away, I find myself at the kitchen counter, dicing green peppers on a wooden block, listening to Daniel and Mira argue over chicken or steak to go with fajitas even though Daniel has strips of chicken browning in the skillet already.

“Chicken is so basic,” Mira says, metal tongs clicking as she mixes the salad next to me. Her arm bumps mine occasionally. I don’t mind.

“Chicken is classic,” Daniel argues. “It goes with everything.”

“So does steak.” Task complete, Mira settles her tongs in the bowl, dusts her hands and faces Daniel fully. “In fact, I’m pretty sure—”

We don’t hear the rest of her statement when a light, tinkling sound cuts her off. Her head pivots to the living room with an expression of puzzled confusion.

“It’s my phone.”

Her tone suggests that getting calls isn’t a normal occurrence, but the way she hesitates, glances at Daniel, I can’t help wonder if she’s expecting bad news.

Daniel sets his fork down in the sauce catcher and faces her. “Want me...?”

Mira shakes her head even as the ringing continues. “I’m sure it’s nothing. You’re here. There’s no one left anyway.”

No further context is given when she brushes her hands restlessly down her thighs before leaving to find her phone.

“What did she mean?” I ask once she’s out of ear shot. “That there’s no one left.”

Daniel picks up his fork and moves a strip of chicken across the lightly greased pan. His head is down, face focused, but I can see the shifting knot in his jaw from a mile away.

“It’s been a rough year for her.” He lifts his chin a fraction to peer over at me. “She lost her whole family last year. She gets nervous when the phone rings.”

“There’s no one left anyway.”

I get that.

Daniel and I have no one left either. We lost Mom years ago, before the biggest scandals to hit Jefferson took place, a fact Dad was never shy in bringing up.

“Thank God your mom killed herself before she had to see what degenerates her sons have become.”

Losing her was the thing that pushed me and Daniel closer. I mean, we were always close, but after we lost her and Dad was the nightmare we had to face afterwards, we became an untied wall of steel. We bonded over belt welts, bruises, broken bones.

And the things we didn’t talk about.

I’m not attracted to my brother. Despite the rumors, the lies, we never fucked. We seldom even touched. Sure, it happens in the moment by accident, but I never looked at my brother’s cock and wanted it. It was never like that for either of us.

But when you live through the shit we had to deal with every day and the only escape was going to school or staying out until the old man had drunk himself unconscious, you become more than just brothers. You become soldiers bonded together through war, loss and grief. You become almost the same person in two bodies, so close that I could be miles away and feel Dad’s fist breaking two of Daniel’s ribs. Almost died getting home that night, bat in hand, ready to beat the fucker dead only to find him passed out in the couch and Daniel a bloody mess at the bottom of the stairs.

Shit like that haunts you. The only thing that gets you through is the knowledge that you’re not alone.

I had Daniel and he had me.

Who did Mira have? I guess Daniel. It made sense why they were so close. I understood that bond.

Trauma bond.

I read that somewhere once.

The clink of metal striking ceramic has my attention darting to Daniel as he pinches his fingers on the rag hanging off the bar on the stove. His head is turned to the door, expression tense.

“I’m going to check—”

Mira returns then, phone still in hand. “Wrong number,” she says with a tight chuckle and an awkward wave of the device. “A guy looking for Jim. I don’t think I’ve ever even met a Jim.”

With a deep breath, she sets the phone on the small table Mom kept for bills next to the doorway. Her hands are shaking, I note and I have to resist the urge to go to her.

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