Page 37 of Deranged Imposter

He drops the clear folder, black ink bleeding through the translucent surface. Bracing his palms on the desk, he ducks his head and sighs, tremors wrecking his massive body like a lonely tree against a mass of hurricanes.

“I need a new start, away from here—from them, just… I don’t want a constant reminder of him.”

He sounds selfish and can very well act on it, a product of his upbringing and environment, but he’s not heartless for wanting to put himself first. Maybe he’s been living in Zico’s shadow and hid it from me. Maybe his family contributes to it while I’m not looking, or it could mean everything is just too much.

“Where will you go?” I lean my forehead on his tense arm, sensing the taut shift in his muscles as he breathes heavily.

“Anywhere but here,” he replies determinedly.

I want to burrow myself behind his sternum and hide there forever, with his heart safely tucked in my hands. I want to be in his mind, living as a parasite between a flower field and wasteland, so he won’t forget me no matter how much he tries.

He’s not taking me with him. I know, and it’s all-consuming to not flinch.

A fresh start means no ties leading him back to Zico, and I am an integral part of the trauma he went through. Not directly, but the indirect connection is as bad as being the cause of it. I don’t think he’ll sever his ties with his family, but a low contact agreement sounds the best.

“You wanted to see the Sossusvlei dunes,” he says, and curls his fingers into his palms, knuckles turning white as he stares at his reflection on the desk.

“And I said 'no' because I can’t tell which is worst: getting lost in Namibia, a place I’ve never been to, or in the desert when I’m topographically challenged.”

He chuckles, but they sound like death charms tolling. It’s a nice tune, obeying the room’s command to cause havoc on my prickling skin.

“Kashmir is peaceful,” he whispers, dull eyes searching mine. “Have a reset with nature.”

I have no idea where Kashmir is.

“But let’s start with the Eiffel Tower,” he offers, blessing me with a genuine smile for the first time since yesterday. “Small steps, then we’ll go bolder.”

“We?” I squeak, hope thriving like a monstrous itch deep in my bones and marrow.

“How many times do I have to prove you’re important to me?” he questions, fitful anger fluxing on his tongue. “I’m taking you with me.”

It’s such a casual conversation on a solemn day when emotions are high, reservations are low, and thoughts are everywhere. But my mind is sharp when I think about the time and sweat I put into my education, the drafted email of my ambition, and an envelope with four graduation ceremony tickets.

I’m excited, but I’m not happy. Yet, I don’t know what I’m unhappy about.

“For how long?” I close my eyes, drawing his scent into the lining of my lungs.

“We’ll travel until you find a place you love, then we’ll buy a house there.”

I laugh under my breath. That sounds like a marriage proposal, one with a clear meaning, but the consequences are too terrifying. If we don’t work out, then I would lose him.

I love him—as a friend and a lover. Time will guide me, so for now, I hang back.

“Why don’t you like medicine?” I probe, bashfully changing the topic.

Staunchly ignoring the piercing gaze to the top of my head, I let his arm go to turn and lean on the desk. The packet inside the translucent fold contains medical school comparisons, and it’s an educated guess that it’s from his father.

Mr. Masini hoped to have Mikah follow in his steps. From the times I’ve accidentally caught their conversation in his father’s home office, I’ve always prepared to get dragged out of the family home to hide with him in his special spot until he’s calmed.

An area only we knew.

Just like Mikah didn’t know about his brother’s special spot, where he was all this time.

An accident, the investigation concluded, with no foul play and a clean tox screen. It’s assumed that Zico went to his hidden spot to play in the middle of the night, and an accident happened. That September night was hailing, and I don’t believe he would go out during the storm.

I have doubts, but I would cause pointless pain to his family by presuming.

It’s an unfortunate tragedy nobody could’ve prevented.

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