Page 107 of As the Rain Falls
“Your sister is really dead, isn’t she?”
And then, he laughs again. Louder this time. Downright cackling. I wish I had other words to describe it, but all I feel is distraught by his behavior.
“Yes, fa-father.”
Gregory holds his palm, pressing against the cut, trying to keep it from bleeding some more. I blink, astonished that he even noticed the cut in the first place. Maybe he isn’t that drunk, which only makes this worse.
“She is,” I whisper brokenly, unable to say her name, at least not right now. “She’s dead.”
Lucia is dead.
My nails start picking at the sides of my thumb, ripping the fragile skin apart. I can’t stop. It’s too soothing.
“What a fucking joke of a brother you are, I mean,” Dad slurs. “Couldn’t even look after your own sister.”
The words should hurt, but I’ve heard a lot worse coming from him. I had a lifetime’s worth of insults directed at me by the time I was seven years old. He can’t stand my fucking brain—not unless it’s working perfectly.But it’s been a hard fucking month, and for what it’s worth, I miss my sister. I keep turning my head to the side, expecting to see Lucia standing next to me.
I love her.I love her so fucking much; it kills me that she is gone.
The care I have for her, I mean.
It’s like carrying around a parasite.
“I booked a flight,” Dad prompts, out of nowhere. “Can’t stand to sleep in this house anymore. Don’t know how you can do it without her.”
“Yeah.” I smile weakly, the ache in my chest going numb. “Neither can I.”
***
“You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
Old Well hands me a warm mug, his face doing that thing it often does when he disapproves of something but won’t stay silent about it.
“Funny enough, that’s because I haven’t.” I shrug, whistling so the cows keep trailing after me.
“Really?” He pauses, one hand on his hip, the other braced against the fence. When I don’t give him an answer, Well slaps the back of my head, bringing me back to the moment. “Boy, I’m talking to you.”
“I did.” I rub the spot, running a hand over my recently shaved head. The buzzcut is making me look like a junkie. “It’s just… There’s a lot going on at home right now.”
“I hear you,” he nods thoughtfully. “I assume you mean your father?”
“He’s been drinking a lot. I don’t think being here, as in living in Le Port, does him any good.”
I pat the back of our youngest calf, Rosie, and she answers with a soft noise that’s not quite her final moo-moo yet. She’s too small to keep up with the rest of the group, but at least she’s trying.
“Go back to your mom, sweetie.”
Rosie trots away from us, happily rejoining her family. Well smiles sarcastically, his crooked teeth flashing. “Oh, and you’re the one who’s supposed to fix that for him, are you?”
“I’m not.” My lips part as I point out the obvious, breathing in the humid air as I check the sky for any sign of heavy clouds. A few are gathering further away on the horizon; it might rain again before the night comes. “But he’s miserable.”
“Well, of course he is. Your father just lost another cow to milk, if you know what I mean.” Well picks up a piece of weed from the ground, chewing the edge of it lazily. “You can’t let him get in your head.”
I glare my eyes at him, but he just grabs my elbow, forcing my attention back.
“You can’t.”
“He’s not getting to me.” I pull my arm from his grip, checking to see if all the cows are around us. “Antony and you need to trust me a little more. It’s annoying to constantly have to explain myself to you guys.”
