Page 49 of Secrets That Bind Us
Year after year, those headphones quickly became her superpower. Her mask. A way to hide in plain sight– because who suspects the quiet girl that prefers to be left alone with her books or video games to be listening in on very adult conversation? So many secrets. There were too many hushed arguments, whispered curse words, and worst of all –tears– in the Huntington/Henderson household.
Take now, for instance. Even though Savannah looks as though she’s reading her mother’s old yearbook, she’s half eavesdropping on her mother’s conversation with Uncle Eli – her agent (a professional relationship but alsoplatonic– to which Savannah looked up in Webster's Thesaurus – and decided the best synonym was indeedfriendship) - who’s currently on speakerphone, arguing about a deadline and a new book tour, which Savannah really hopes leads them to Paris again. She’s also really only looking at all the pictures in the yearbook when she decides she’s seen enough pictures of the one she has decided must be her real father–Dean Carson.
Although her mother hadn’t said anything, she really didn’t have to. Not when all the yearbook pictures had a face so similar to her own plastered all over them. Truthfully, Savannah was both satisfied in finding out the truth herself but also disappointed in her mother. Not for being a teen mom– she knew her mother was relatively younger than her old friends parent’s back in New Haven. She was simply disappointed her mother didn’t have the ovaries to tell her.
Setting the yearbook on the new end table, to pick up another thriller she very inconveniently left upstairs. She huffs out a sigh, leaving her very comfortable spot on the couch, trudges up the flight of stairs, past Noah’s bedroom (where she can hear him playing with his new Lego set), and into her very blue, grey, and black room – that’s always just a little too cold, even in the Texas summer heat. She strides over to her very empty nightstand. The nightstand where she placed her book on just this morning before heading downstairs for breakfast. Glancing around her room, slightly confused, she spies the corner of the title on the floor, to which she laughs… and then abruptly stops, you see– because as she bends to retrieve it, she hears what can only be described aswheezingbehind her.
She snaps up, tensing, expecting Noah– and yet, when she turns, she’s utterly alone. And the wheezing has stopped. With a few blinks, sheshrugs it off, retrieves the book, and decides to stop by and check in on her little brother – you know, in averynonchalant, very cool big-sister way – to verify he was in factnotchoking on a Lego. She stops by his door that’s partially opened to hear him muttering to himself –but then…someone responds.
Dropping her book on the refurbished hardwood floors, she shoves the door completely open and stares at her little brother– still in his dinosaur pajamas, because it’s Saturday– to find him completely alone.
“Hey Savvy.” He smiles, dimples fully on display.
The room is freezing, but Noah seems unbothered. It’s as though she’s the only one who can ever feel the constant chills caused by the large AC units her mother had installed before they moved in.
In a very cool manner, she strides into his room and opens the closet door. Finding nothing, she turns back around to face her little brother, keeping her breath under control. “Hey, monkey butt. You want a snack?” She’s very proud of the way her voice doesn’t shake nor give away the intense feeling rattling her bones.
“Do we have bananas?”- hence why she calls him ‘monkey butt.’
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay! I’ll race ya!”
“’Kay…” she replies, because even with her headphones on, she heard the wheezing coming from inside of his closet. Not wanting to be alone, she darts behind him quickly.
Once downstairs, she toasts two slices of bread, spreads peanut butter on them, slowly peels and cuts the banana, and places them on the peanut butter toast–one for her, one for her favorite little brother.After filling a glass with milk and grabbing two reusable straws, she sets it between them on the breakfast nook–one for her, one for her favorite little brother.
When Noah giggles and says, “I’m your only brother!” Savannah shrugs.
Sounds of teeth crunching into toast fill the air between the siblings, and after a few bites, Savannah’s curiosity has crested. “Hey, monkey butt?”
“Hmm?”
“Who were you talking to in your room?”
“Grandma Sarah.”
Puzzled, she decides to correct him. “Grandma's name was Marie.”
“Grandma Sarah ishermommy. ‘Member Mommy’s family picture book?”
“Oh.” She nods. Duh. “Do they… visit you a lot?”
“Yeah.” He swallows happily.
“They just show up?”
“Mmhmm,” he answers nonchalantly. “They’re inside the walls.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Verity
Present Day
Coffee… coffee… motherfucking COFFEE.
Themoundsof coffee that arrived at the unfinished bookshop– which we’ve decided to nameThe Ink Plot Bistro–are staggering.Fourteenboxes of nothing but different samples of coffee are stacked so high I’m afraid to walk beside them in case one of them falls and then I’m crushed to death by a fifty-pound box of coffee to the head. Tarps are still up. Thankfully, the floors are finished but-
