Page 45 of Paradox
I’m preemptively backing up against the wall of snow before I’ve even gauged his reaction. My head and my gut are both pleading with me to climb over it and bury myself so deep it won’t be worth his trouble to come after me. But all he does is hang his head and softly say, "Your beer will freeze if you don’t drink it.”
Eden and I haven’t said a word to each other since I sat back on the step, we’ve just remained in a weird suspended motion. Him behind me, the both of us facing the fire and nothing but the crackle of the wood and flames filling the space around us.
I always wondered what it would be like to survive a zombie apocalypse. And while I know the reality would be much closer to the five days I spent completely alone in the shack, this is what I actually pictured. People, who, in their past lives, would have never connected, but now must rely on each other to get through every day. Existing only by the light of a fire, and whatever food they can find.
I hear Eden stack his bottle with the other five he’s emptied.
He picks up the barbecue tongs and plate, and I lean to the side, giving him plenty of space to pass.
With all four bundles collected, I’m surprised when he takes a seat on the top step beside me. He puts the plate on the frozenground, and I stare wide eyed as he partially unwraps each of the vegetables with his bare hands.
“They’ll be safe to pick up in a few minutes,” he says, and leans his hands back on the porch. His bicep pushes against me, and I hold still, waiting to see if he moves it. When he doesn’t, I relax again with the screen frame against my side. “Do you want another beer?”
“Are you sure?” I answer, my eyes looking forward. “That’s three now. Can you spare the calories?”
Eden almost groans as he reaches behind himself to drag the crate closer. “You had to have been an elf in a past life.”
“Are you sure you’ve only been drinking beer?”
The two bottles clink together as he takes them out. “They’re little shits, like you.” He pops the cap on the first and gives it to me. “They get off on tormenting people they think are angry all the time.” Tossing the bottle opener over his shoulder to land god knows where, Eden tilts his beer in my direction. I tap the neck of mine against his, then watch him down half of it in one go. “That’s the only story my mom ever told me as a kid." Eden makes a noise that lands somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. Shaking his head, he runs the back of his hand across his mouth, then lets his head fall back. "She was fifteen when she had me."
I take a drink and copy his position.
"She used to call me her prince. Until I wasn't enough anymore."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. She never was. I was replaced with so many boyfriends I lost count." Eden takes a long, drawn out breath, then leans forward on his thighs. "When she married Brian I stopped giving a shit. I had to. I had to look out for Carey cause god knows they didn't. I don't know why she thought having another baby was a good idea."
"What's he like?"
"A smart ass, like you."
"He sounds like a great guy."
"Yeah," he smiles and shakes his head. "He is pretty great."
"Why did they leave you?"
Eden turns to look at me for the first time since breaking the silence. "Cause I was never wanted in the first place."
"That can't be true."
"You complain about your parents, but they took me in when mine moved away."
"Eden—"
"You were a toddler when I started spending every holiday at your house.Andevery weekend.Anddinner most nights. So you were too young to remember what they did for me those first few years."
I nod, because I'm not sure what else I can do. Nothing he said about my family is wrong. I have so many memories of him and Tek drinking in the basement or smoking in the backyard when Mom and Dad weren't home. But how many parents have expectations for other people's children?
Eden puts down his beer and walks to the other side of the fire. With his back to me, he links his fingers together behind his neck and rocks from one foot to the other. He looks like a monster in the snow; tall and strong. But also like the smallest thing could bring him to his knees.
"Right," he says suddenly—turning back around. He runs his hands down his face, then shakes them out as he takes his seat beside me. "What were we talking about?"
"Um…" I grin down at my lap so he can't see me. "You were calling me an elf."
"Yeah," he agrees, and picks up his drink like the last few minutes never happened. "That bitch would tell me about one called Styf—and that's you." He points to me with the beer bottle. "He lived in a stable. You lived in a shed…" I watch thefire light flicker against his neck and face as he smiles up at the sky. “He went out of his way to make greedy old men pay for being cruel. So I guess, with the beer, and the food, and all the other shit I've done, that I’m the greedy old man.”
