Page 79 of Pieces of Ash
Fuck.I don’t know what came over me.
Usually, when he gets into it with one of his boys, I stop eating. I fold my hands in my lap. I look down, wait until it’s over, and he gives us permission to eat again. But last night—for no reason I can think of—I didn’t look down.
I looked up.
For once, I looked up.
And Anders—18-year-old Anders, with the blackest eyes I’ve ever seen—looked back at me. At me. Into me. Through me.
Oh, God, why did I look up?
Something happened. Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus, somethinghappened. Between me and Anders. Somethingfuckinghappened.
Time froze.
Itfuck—I mean, itstopped.
Everythingstopped.
Life stopped.
Breathing stopped.
My heart stopped.
Somewhere outside of me, Mosier was yelling, and Damon was drowning and grunting, and I felt soup splash onto my chin, but I couldn’t look away from Anders. I couldn’t. I…
HE looked away. He looked away, and I still couldn’t. I kept watching him. It was like I’d never seen him before. And maybe I hadn’t. I don’t know. I stared at his face. I watched his jaw—it clenched so hard, then relaxed, and then he looked up at me again and mouthed, “LOOK AWAY” just in time.
I looked down as fast as I could.
A second later, and Mosier would have caught me. Caught us.
Us.
No, no, no. No. NO. There is no “us.”
Itcan’thappen. He’s my stepson. I am 13 years older than he is.
Wait. Wait. Wait. I’m going too fast. Slow down, Teagan.
After dinner, Mosier took them to his room. Damon with his head red from blood and purple from the soup, gets up and follows his father. But Anders.
He stopped at the doorway, turned, and looked at me. Again.
AND. TIME. STOPPED.
AGAIN.
And maybe it was THAT look. That second look.
Because this is worse than coke. I feel like my heart’s going to explode because it’s beating so fucking fast.
I don’t know.
Yes, I fucking do. I know. I know. I know. I remember. I remember that look.
I remember it, and I can barely fucking breathe right now because I know what it means.
