Page 119 of Soul So Dark
A door shuts in the hallway, startling me, but I don’t bother to look. I know who it is. Luca still has a bedroom here, but it never occurred to me whether or not he still uses it. I listen to the heavy footsteps get fainter as they move away from my door. He’s been here the entire time.
My brother is a ghost; a shadow that moves out of the corner of your eye, and when you look, he’s gone. I feel like I’m turning into the same thing—just another shadow that’s gradually disappearing from this house. Finally, the front door shuts and he’s gone. And in a few days, I’ll be gone, too.
I shouldn’t have brought Dallas here. It was the wrong time. The next time Dallas sees where I live, it’s going to be different. It has to be mine, something brand new—to me, at least—andIhave to be different. I have to have my shit in order. The only way I’ll allow her to see this room is when we bring our little boy or girl here to visit grouchy Uncle Adrian and his artificial knees and herniated discs.
My phone starts vibrating and Adrian’s name flash across the screen.
Speak of the devil…
“Hey, man,” he sounds exhausted, per usual. “You didn’t take my credit card, did you?”
His tone suggests he already knows the answer.
“No, why?”
“Because it’s not in my wallet, and when I checked the account, it has a bunch of random charges on it from today.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” he lets out an irritated sigh, “some cash from an ATM across town, charges from a gas station, a sporting goods store…oh, yeah,” he snickers, “and one from some bougie cupcake shop in the city.”
Even I have to laugh at that one. You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but Luca’s a major pastry connoisseur, to the point where he bakes for all of our birthdays because he thinks every other bakery makes shit cakes—or at least he used to.
“Dude, call the cops,” I huff, “report him for identity theft.”
“I can’t do that,” Adrian mutters, like every other time.
“Yeah,you fucking can!” I exclaim with disgust. “Bruh,he probably went and bought more guns. Lock his ass up!”
“What good would that do? Then he’d be in prison. What then?”
“Fine!” I snap. “Then put him in rehab before he kills himself!”
“If I could even find him…”
“He was here today when I got home,” I retort, to which there’s only silence.
“Are you alright?” he finally asks apprehensively.
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you by making you clean my dead body up off the floor when you get home.”
“Come on, man—” he tries to brush me off, but I interrupt him before he can.
“He put a gun to your head!” I roar.
“I’m aware,” Adrian exhales. “I wasthere.”
“You know what? Maybe he’ll get arrested. How fucking sad is it that his only hope is prison at this point? Hope he doesn’t kill anyone on his way there because you felt too guilty to do anything about it.”
“At least I’llbe hereto deal with whatever happens to him,” Adrian snaps.
It’s like another punch to the chest, except this time he’s not worried that I’ll die in some foreign country. This time, he’s implying that I’m abandoning them, and if I die, too, then that will be the ultimate slight.
Without another thought, I mash my thumb onto the screen and end the call.
Dallas is right. We are like the Curtises.Left behind…holding on by a thread…fighting…I hate you…I didn’t mean it…I’m running away…such a disappointment…
I grab my backpack from the floor and tear a sheet of paper from my notebook. When I start writing, I don’t stop until the page is filled, and after that, I reread every word, adding and subtracting until I say everything I want to say.
