Page 27 of Straight, No Chaser
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At six, I push out of my chair where I’ve kept vigil over her all night. She only stirred once. Mumbling something I couldn’t make out. But the hint of the smile tugging at her lush mouth came through clear. She’s fucking stunning even in her sleep.
Returning her earlier favor, I set out two pills and a bottle of water before taking a quick shower. My dick needy with the thought of her waking up, looking for me. But my brain knows the truth. I hurt her. Last night. The day before. All the time. And, it’s got to stop. Because she won’t be able to forgive me or herself much more.
Eli will be up soon, and I’ve got to get both of us out of here before she wakes. I don’t even know why. Maybe I really am fucking psycho. But pretending that we’re a happy family stuffing our faces with homemade waffles and planning a trip to the park or some other wholesome way to spend the day together is too much of a fucking farce to endure.
I’m a lucky fucking bastard when I make it to my little brother’s room. He’s sliding sections of track out of the bin and piling them next to the three story parking garage. The perfect picture of innocence that hasn’t been corrupted yet by his jaded brothers. “What’re you doing?”
Grogginess still darkens his expression although he does manage a small smile. “Molly said she would play cars with me so I’m getting the city set up.”
Fucking kills me to crush his enthusiastic spirit. “Sorry little man, but Molly’s belly hurts. She needs to stay in bed for a while.”
“Oh.”
The plastic slides out of his hand, and he doesn’t even flinch when it hits his foot. His heart too sad to notice.
“Will you play with me?”
If I was a good brother, I would. Totally drop down and build a huge ass town and take every single fucking vehicle to the mechanic and restaurant and drive in. But, I’m not a good brother. Not at all. I’m a fucking selfish asshole who only cares about hiding from the people he hurts. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go see my Mom.”
His shoulders droop as much as his quivering mouth. Please fucking god don’t cry. “Do you want to come with me? I can take you out for breakfast.”
He perks up from my enticing tone. Little man loves going out to the diner near her house. Spinning on the red stools lined up to the counter while he waits for his plate of sweets and meats. “Yeah!”
“Well, get dressed then. We’ve got to get going so we’re not late.”
I don’t even finish talking before he’s yanking off his pajamas and digging in his drawer for clothes. Shirts and shorts laid out in perfect matching sets thanks to Mrs. Benson. But without a woman’s touch he still ends up with a cowlick I can’t get to fucking lay down. He doesn’t seem bothered by it so why the fuck should I.
We hustle pretty fast until we reach the car, where he drops the small bag I let him pack, trying to juggle the slick handles while climbing into the backseat. So fucking slow picking up each fucking marker and sticker. But it’ll piss him off I try to hurry him up and our get-away will take that much longer. He’s even more stubborn than I am if that’s possible.
Finally, after what feels like half his fucking lifetime, he crawls in and buckles his seat belt. A huge smile brightening his face. He loves my mother as much as I do. A gentle woman who never begrudges Eli for being a symbol of her ruined marriage and the subsequent failures that came after hers.
“Can we sit up front?”
“Can you be good?”
Shame pinks his cheeks. A reminder of last time when we had to leave early. Sneaking out the side door because he kept jumping on and off the kneeler.
“I was three then. I’m grown up now.”
My chuckle pisses him off, and he crosses his little arms. Disgust radiating through his tone and body.
“I am!”
“Okay, okay. Calm down, sir.”
A few more huffs before he settles in to watch the movie. At least it’s a cartoon I haven’t seen in a while if I have to listen to it blare for the next forty-five minutes. No surprise that traffic is light. Most people still in bed this early. Except for the people honoring their weekly Sunday commitments. And those of us too exhausted to sleep.
We pull into the parking lot just as the warning bells sound. My Mom would admonish me that they are inviting everyone to join in the services. Offering the love of the Lord to the entire community. But even as a kid I knew they signaled the shame of being late.
Bounding to the front, Eli waves to my mother as she sings the opening hymn. Her voice really is breathtaking. Rich and smooth, making her seem like she’s on a stage rather than an altar. She surely would have been famous had she not sacrificed her career for my father. Naïve enough to believe the lies he told her, as well as to himself, that he was capable of changing. For her.
Until his secretary impressed him with more than her typing skills. And the line of mistresses grew as tired as my mom’s patience.
There’s something oddly comforting about the ritual. Kneel, stand, sit. Always in the same order. The same words I heard as a child. A glimpse into the past with the blurry lens that gives the illusion of perfection. When I know for damn sure my childhood was anything but perfect.
Eli slumps against my shoulder, his fingers wrapping around my forearm. Still sleepy from his early rise plus the long car ride. Over and over, he runs his silver Mustang down my leg and back up his. The same endless loop I feel stuck in. That I need to fucking break.
