Page 41 of Saving Sparrow
I wanted to call bullshit. He saw how she acted when she came to take Elliott away from us. We could hardly sleep last night knowing they were in this house alone together. Implying she gave a damn had to be Miguel’s way of getting Elliott to accept help, to talk to his therapist about his missing memories.
“She only pretends to care about me,” Elliott whispered. “I heard her talking to someone on the phone about a conservatorship. I looked up what that meant.”
I knew exactly what it meant. I remembered my father threatening my mother with it the night before she left. I’d told Miguel all about it.
“Why would she want to put you into a conservatorship?” I asked.
“My parents died without a will, so everything they had goes to me. As my guardian, my aunt can access funds with court approval. It’s how she bought this house, how she can travel and shop, and afford drivers. I don’t know what she says to get away with half the things she does. But it all ends when I turn eighteen.”
“And if she can get you into a conservatorship, then she can keep control,” Miguel said.
“Talking to a doctor won’t help me; it’ll only help her.”
Because whatever he had to say would make things worse for him. It was easy enough to read between the lines. We were quiet for a while after that, just holding on to each other.
“Why did you stay?” Elliott whispered to Miguel. “After your mom died, why didn’t you leave? If you thought your stepdad…” he trailed off, looking between Miguel and me.
“We do what we have to, to stay together,” I said. “Even put up with a murdering piece of shit like my father.”
Elliott flinched at the venom in my tone. I didn’t have it in me to apologize; I just started rubbing his back again.
“We’re gone after we graduate high school. That’s when the trust my grandfather left me kicks in.”
“Oh,” Elliott said, dropping his gaze. I gripped his chin, lifting his head until he met my eyes. A single tear fell down his cheek.
“You’re coming with us,” I said, because to hell with asking. I thought my demand would earn me Miguel’s disapproval, but he smiled at me. “When’s your birthday?”
“August twentieth.” A couple months away.
“Convince your aunt that you’ll give her every dime of that money. Swear it in fucking blood if you have to. You don’t need it. You’re ours now, Elliott. We’ll take care of you.”
Elliott
Then
“You’re ours now, Elliott.”
I wasn’t sure what Quentin meant by that, but it felt good to my heart. Hours later, it still did.
Being around them felt like walking in on a private conversation, but they welcomed me into it instead of turning me away. It felt like I was missing something, though.
Their bond felt super important and intense, almost suffocating to be near. They engaged with their guard down, something I couldn’t wrap my mind around, even though I wanted to.
They loved each other like they weren’t afraid to, like life hadn’t already shown them they had everything to fear. I wanted that. I wanted to talk without thinking first, without being careful I didn’t say too much.
I wanted to be free, but one wrong secret spilled, and it would all be over. They’d judge me if they knew the truth. How could they not?Ijudged myself, even though so much of it was buried somewhere in my brain I couldn’t reach.
Quentin and Miguel allowed each other to be themselves, and they’d told me I could do the same. I didn’t feel brave enough.
They didn’t laugh at me when I prayed or recited scriptures, even though I didn’t know why I bothered. For as long as I could remember, I’d been told to pray for my sins, that God would hear me and cure me. He hadn’t done either. I’d remained sick and continued to pay for it.
But all I had was my faith, even though it had failed me until now. Maybe I could have something new, something better. Maybe I could have it with them.
I felt protected with Quentin and Miguel, and it scared me because I’d never felt that before. Being around them was the only time I felt normal, seen, and understood.
Would they still want to be my friend if they knew about my past? The parts I remembered, and the parts it felt like I’d slept through? I didn’t want to uncover those parts. I knew bad things lived in them, things I didn’t feel strong enough to face.
“You’ve always been so fragile,”my mother once said.“I think he blames me for it.”
