Page 74 of Unspoken Words
“Andhe was going to drive his car. Drunk. How irresponsible and completely stupid is that? He could’ve killed someone, or even himself. Argh,” I growled.
“You’re not his mother, so stop acting like it.”
“I’m not acting like it.”
“Yeah, you are. You do it all the time: Connor do this, Connor don’t do that. Connor pick up the basketball—”
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“Nope.”
Shocked, I continued to stare at the back of his head, waiting for him to turn around and explain his shitty verbiage. But he didn’t. He just continued to shovel popcorn into his gob.
“Chris!”
“KICK IT TO HIRD! HE’S OPEN. FUUUCK,” he hollered, throwing his hands in the air.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Having a conversation with my brother when the football was on TV was about as feasible as ice-skating in high heels. Football was in his blood. He lived and breathed it. Always had, always would.
Standing up, I headed to the kitchen to tidy up before Mum and Dad returned home from the local produce market. “YOU NEED TO TAKE OUT THE TRASH,” I shouted.
“Yeah, yeah, in a minute. The game is nearly over.”
I grumbled and decided to do it myself, needing something mundane to distract me from worrying about how Connor got home after I threw his keys in the bushes. Guilt had festered in the back of my mind ever since because he wouldn’t have been able to find them—he could barely stand straight.
Pushing it aside, I opened the backdoor, trudged to the bin, and lifted the lid when the sound of a car door slammed next door followed by my skank of a neighbour yelling. It piqued my curiosity, so I quietly dropped the trash bag and snuck to the fence to eavesdrop.
“I’m not just a rock you can kick to the curb,” she shouted, her voice breaking on a sob.
“Lilah, please lower your voice.”
A chill ran down my spine and froze my legs in place.Connor.
“Lower my voice?” She did the opposite. “WHY? SO THE NEIGHBOURS WON’T HEAR?”
“Please just get back into the car. We’ll go somewhere and talk this out.”
The desperation lacing his words churned my stomach, the tips of my fingers tingling as they trembled. He’d never sounded so panicked.
“Ha!” She laughed, but it was far from pleasant. “Now you want to talk?”
“Yes. I don’t want … I didn’t mean … Fuck! Lilah, please.”
Willing my legs to move, I stepped out from behind the fence to see them both standing on her front path. Connor’s hand was clasped around her arm, his shirt untucked, his grey eyes red, hair dishevelled. Lilah’s dress strap had fallen down her shoulder, her hair equally dishevelled, her lipstick smeared, heels dangling from her hand.
She flicked her eyes to where I was standing, and they flared with something so volatile and sharp, that it sliced through me. “Perhaps we should’vetalkedlast night, instead.”
Nausea hit me like a truck, and I stumbled backwards, my throat thick, my body hot.
Connor’s eyes found mine, his face ghostly pale. “ELLIE! Shit!”
I turned around, dizzy with movement, words, and visions, and scrambled back to the house.
“WAIT! ELLIE! IT’S NOT—”
Ignoring his pleas, I opened the backdoor and ran for my room only to be chased down seconds later when he closed the door behind him. We stood there in silence, his presence behind my back unmistakable and all-consuming. I didn’t move and neither did he, two statues in a space surrounded by photos of the two of us happy in each other’s arms.
Reaching out, I picked one of them up from my desk and ran my finger over his smiling face before turning to face him. “Connor, wh … what did you do?” My tear-soaked eyes met his, and he dropped to his knees without so much as a word.
