Page 4 of Cruel Cravings

The man who stands in the door wears an angry one. It’s clenched onto his face, his thick brows knitted. He’s clutching his iPhone like he’s about to call the police.

“Did you hear me?” he asks when silence drags on between us. “Who the fuck are you and how the fuck did you get into my apartment?”

This must be Taviar.

My voice escapes me. My belly quakes. I blink and blink at him, so startled I can’t function.

Nurse Big Bird used to call these my freeze ups.

Whenever it happened, she said to count backward slowly from ten. Allow time to work through what’s overloaded me. Then piece each word together to express myself.

“I’m…” I start off in a nervous stammer. “I’m… looking…”

“Get the fuck out!” he barks, and I jump. “Get out before I call the police!”

“I’m Jael,” I try again.

A flicker of something I can’t figure out passes over his face. For a brief second, his anger dissolves for… confusion? Shock? Distress? Some muddled blend of all three?

“You think you’re funny?” he asks. “This some kind of sick joke?”

What is he talking about? Why is he so mad at me? Did my sister not tell him I was coming by?

“She invited me,” I squeak out. “My sister…”

“Yoursister?” he spits, then his eyes narrow. “You don’t know?”

His features twist in disturbed fashion. He lets a long moment pass between us where the only thing that takes up more space than the tense silence is the glaring neon yellow caution tape sprawled across the floor.

The same tape I broke to enter my sister’s room.

I swallow against the uncertainty filling me up and cast one last glance around the room.

“Um,” I mumble. “I’ll go. My sister’s not home right now.”

He doesn’t stop me as I move to leave. He presses himself back against the door like he’ll catch cooties if he comes into contact with me.

Story of my life.

People reacting like this when I’m around.

I make it to the front door and notice the broken lock hanging off the hinges, but I only stop when he calls out to me from the living room.

“She always mentioned you,” he says, his tone puzzled. “I guess I just… I never thought you were real. Lyra could be a little…”

He trails off there as if he can’t find the words, or maybe he doesn’t want to offend me.

Her sister.

“I am,” I answer, feeling strangely empty. Yet I cling to my sister’s laptop like it’s my newest possession I’ll never dream of letting go. “I am real.”

I leave the apartment behind, unsure of where to go or what to do.

I’m not sure of anything anymore.

2.Jael

Cold Little Heart - Michael Kiwanuka

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