Page 8 of Only the Small Bones
With everything now set in front of him, I waited. I began to get nervous when he didn’t make a move, but then he glanced up at me, then behind him to the living room, and back at me. This seemed to be the way he liked to communicate. I took the hint, leaving him alone while I feigned relaxation on the couch, reaching up to grab the newspaper off the coffee table.
One end ripped in my tight grip as I watched him through the reflection in the window. His back bowed, curling protectively over his plate, like he thought I might return to take it from him. His arms moved frantically as he scarfed his food down. His cup clinked on the table, his silverware clattering to his plate as he rotated between eating and drinking. At a certain point he abandoned his utensils altogether.
I wanted to warn him that eating too much too fast might make him sick, especially if he wasn’t used to eating a high quantity of food at once. I couldn’t bring myself to interrupthim, or the heartbreaking scene before me. It was as though the simple act of eating was an emotional journey.
He stayed there a long while after, his shoulders trembling. My heart squeezed within my chest. I wanted to take him in my arms, to stroke his hair and his tears, to shed my own tears for him. I stayed put, though, once again knowing my attempts at comforting him would do more harm than good.
Eventually, he stood, turning to the living room and flinching at seeing me there. He’d forgotten about my close proximity. Syrup stained his chin and shirt, and in an instant the lost look he wore changed. His puffy eyes had gone stone cold again. I didn’t speak, although an apology rested on the tip of my tongue. Ryan’s pain made me feel sorry for even existing.
I thought he’d head to his room. He’d looked that way. Instead, he moved in a trance-like state to the window, flattening a palm over the rain battered glass. A squeaking noise echoed through the room when he slid to the floor, his hand dragging down the window as he went. The trail of condensation he’d left behind must have come from wiping away his tears.
I perched on the edge of the couch now, not moving a muscle. He curled up onto his side, bringing his knees up to his chest. The knots in his spine were prominent in that position. My insides twisted with rage at seeing his frailty, and it made me want to do unspeakable things to the people who hurt him.
It didn’t take long for his soft snores to fill the space. Some of the tightness I’d been carrying in my limbs since yesterday—since long before then—left my body, seeing him rest. I hoped it was peaceful, that nothing hurt him in his dreams. I couldn’t protect him there, but I’d do whatever I could to protect him in reality.
Tip-toeing over to him, I covered him with the soft throw I kept on the back of the couch. My eyes grew damp as the cornersof my mouth rose. I traced my smile with shaky fingers, thinking my mother would be happy to see it.
“Celebrate the small victories,”she’d say, and so I did. Because while he still slept on the floor, at least he was out of his physical bondage.
William
I jerked awake with a gasp, barely managing to keep the name clawing its way up my throat from exiting my mouth in a scream. The nightmares were back. It had been a blissful few weeks without them.
Shoving the blanket off me, I wiped the sweat from my neck while attempting to orient myself with my surroundings. Moonlight pierced through the glass wall as the rain raged on, and the newspaper I’d been holding earlier lay on the floor near the coffee table.
Dropping my feet to the area rug, I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to rub away the final dregs of sleep in hopes of gaining clarity. The last thing I remembered was Ryan drifting off to sleep on the floor, and me watching him from this very spot.Ryan.I shot to my feet, looking around to see if he might be sitting in the kitchen or at the other end of the expansive room. I was alone.
Ambient light shone from the hallway leading to the library. I looked around for my phone to check the time, but then remembered I’d left it on my desk after speaking with Davidson earlier. I set off in that direction.
The brass picture lights hanging over the bookshelves illuminated the room in a soft golden hue. Ryan stood in front of my award case with his back to me, skating a finger over the engravement of one of my gold-plated statues.
“Être dans la lune,” I pronounced softly, not wanting to scare him. He wheeled around like I had anyway, wearing a caught-red-handed expression. Not caught touching something he had no right to, but caught caring about something. The way his eyes fell from my face to my shoulder made me believe that. Recalling how he responded to me hearing his hunger made me sure of it too. Ryan didn’t want me knowing anything about him, specifically anything he perceived to be a weakness. I looked toward the accolade he’d been trying to read. He was curious about me. I found the idea both moving and terrifying.
“It’s a French film.To be in the Moon. I won that one for Best Original Score.”
He swallowed, his breathing irregular.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I woke up and you were gone… I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
He’d pressed his back into the case when I entered. I retrieved my phone from my desk, then returned to the doorway to put him at ease. After checking the time I did the math in my head. I slept for three hours. Had he been awake for most of those? I slipped the phone into my pocket after seeing I had a few missed calls and texts from Davidson and Xavier.
“I’ve been meaning to box this stuff up.” I scanned the meaningless trophies, feeling no pride in having won them. “I showcase them for my mother’s benefit, really. To keep her from worrying about me. She worries when I choose not to focus on the good. When I minimize it in preference of the bad.”
Ryan turned away from me as if he didn’t want to hear about what might not be good in my life. I didn’t blame him, not when imagining what his life had been like prior to yesterday. My martyrdom suddenly resembled ungratefulness.
“I was thinking of having my mother over for dinner one night. She’s a great cook, and we could use some variety around here. Plus, the longer I try to keep her from visiting, the moreinsistent she’ll become.” I didn’t know how long Ryan would be here. The others had been ready to transfer to Safe Haven after a week or two. I wouldn’t rush him, though. It would take as long as it took. I did have people in my life that would want my attention, though. Primarily my mother and Xavier. If Ryan was going to be here a while, I’d need to start warming him up to the idea of them.
“She’s a great listener too,” I added without revealing what she did for a living. I didn’t want to pressure him. “I’m guessing after a few days we’ll get tired of eating breakfast for every meal.” I knew he wouldn’t eat take-out. Everything would need to be prepared in front of him before he ate it. I supposed I could have just sampled everything first, but cooking would be the way to get my mother in here, so I’d stick with that reasoning.
“Did you sleep well?” I whispered. My question sent his nostrils flaring. Nothing I said seemed to be the right thing but I’d keep talking anyway. It worked with the others—although where they’d been mostly scared, anger seemed to be Ryan’s primary emotion. I began second-guessing myself, unsure if I was equipped for this. The empty pit in me expanded further, letting me know my demons agreed.
“How about a tour of the place?”
Ryan peered up looking guilty before bowing his head so his hair hid most of his face. I froze up thinking of all the private things he could have seen on his exploration. Things I didn’t ever want anyone seeing.
“Ryan?” Fear scrambled my brain as his haunted, yet honest, eyes returned to me. I relaxed then, somehow knowing he hadn’t pried into anything that could have exposed me.
“How about the recording studio then?” You needed a code to get in, so he wouldn’t have been able to venture in there. His eyes glittered with something close to excitement beforethe spark died again, as though there was still too much bad weighing down any possibility of good in his life.
