Page 55 of Cryptic Curse

I’ll take care of Eagle.I always do.

But I can’t if he won’t level with me.

Something’s crawled inside him, and he needs to relax.

“Come on,” I say.“let’s break out the old Nintendo.”

When we were little, Eagle and I spent hours playing Mario Kart, at least when Falcon and his friends weren’t hogging it.I kept all the old systems and play them in my man cave every now and then.Even though a half-dozen different updates to the Nintendo have come out since then, I still return to the old 64 we played as kids.The graphics are shit, but you can’t beat the nostalgia.

My man cave is my family room.It houses all my systems, latest games, and a massive TV.

I lead Eagle toward the room, Jimmy panting along.

As I flip on the lights in the man cave, I can’t help but glance over at the array of trophies and pictures lining the walls.Most of them are from our childhood, spent outdoors being constantly competitive.We actually had a pretty good childhood before real life hit us like a fucking truck.I breeze past the photos, heading to the entertainment center where my Nintendo 64 sits.

I plug in the system and flip it on.The familiar intro music fills the room, instantly taking me back to simpler times when life’s biggest concern was avoiding those damned red shells.

Eagle flops onto an oversized beanbag on the floor, watching me as I set up the game.

I hand him a controller, and we fall into a comfortable silence as we start the game.The familiar thrill of the race begins to ease some of the tension in the room.

For the next few hours, we’re not two grown men dealing with the complexities of life.We’re just Eagle and Hawk, two brothers competing for bragging rights in a world of pixelated race tracks and infuriating power-ups.

Every so often, I sneak glances at Eagle.I can tell he’s lost in the game, his focus solely on his character on the screen.But there’s still a shadow in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Still got it,” Eagle grunts as he wins our third race in a row.

I chuckle, shaking my head.“Beginner’s luck.”What a crock.We’re both seasoned players.

“You wish,” he returns, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his face.

We play a few more rounds.Yet the longer we play, the more I notice Eagle’s growing quietness.

I pause the game, turn to face him.“All right E, what’s going on?”

He sighs, rubbing at his forehead.“It’s…Dad, actually.”

I nearly spit out my drink of soda.

Dad?

Not some sort of drug relapse?Not Scarlett Bellamy and another of her dramas?

“Okay,” I say.“What about him?”

“I can’t wrap my head around it,” he says.“He actually tried tokillhimself.”

I get it.

We all had a rough time letting the news sink in.But the actual attempt was months ago.We’ve processed it.At least I assumed we all had.

Dad’s awake now, and even though he’s not making sense, his prognosis is pretty good.This is great news.So why is Eagle so freaked?

“He did,” I say.“But the good thing is that he wasn’t successful.In fact, he merely grazed his skull.If he truly wanted to kill himself, he could have done it no problem.Dad’s a crack shot.Hell, he taught all of us how to shoot.”

Eagle nods.“True.But what if it was a cry for help or something?”

“You mean you think he’s depressed?”

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