Page 149 of Soul So Dark
Luca’s a far cry from how he looked the last time I saw him in this room. His hair is longer, his tattoos peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves, but he looks…brighter. Maybe because there’s not a darkness lingering behind his dead eyes or an aura of malice shrouding him like a thousand-year curse.
“Hey, Alex,” even his voice sounds lighter, different from the gritty rasp he used to have.
“Hey,” I deadpan. There’s nothing else. My mind is blank.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here.” He cracks a smile. “But I saw a truck out front and I figured it was you. I just came from work.”
“Where do you work?” I ask, realizing the only job I ever knew Luca to have was back in high school at some garage in the shitty part of town that I’m positive was a chop shop.
“For a civil rights attorney.”
I just stare back at him blankly. I must’ve flown through a portal somewhere over the Atlantic and landed in an alternate universe. My brother, Luca, doesn’t go to work at a law office dressed business casual every day. And he certainly doesn’t give a shit about anyone’s civil rights.
“I just stopped by to drop something off.” He’s also strangely unbothered by my lack of emotion.
“I’m sorry, Alex,” he blurts out after a few seconds.
“What?”
“Yeah, uh…” he hesitates for a long time, looking down at the floor like he’s deciding what to say.
Still dead behind the eyes, I watch him with low-key suspicion. I haven’t forgotten what happened the last time we stood here face to face. And, this time, if things go south,I’llbe the one choking him out and stepping over his body on the way out.
“During my surgery,” Luca finally breaks the silence, “I had to stay awake so they could monitor my brain activity. The surgeon told me if I couldn’t think of anything to talk about, I should just sing a song. So, I started singing that song Mom liked. You remember it? The one about the bullfrogs and wine that she used to sing to us all the time?”
Of course, I remember it.
I set my jaw and pull the armor up.
“Afterward, he said that the tumor was pressing on my frontal lobe so hard that they were surprised I could still walk upright. And even though he removed it and I was healthy again, things just got worse. I felt different, like I didn’t belong in my body anymore. After a few evaluations, they all agreed that the tumor caused the changes in my behavior and contributed to why I was incarcerated—why I did the things I did.” He takes a breath. “What I did to you.”
I just stare at him, still not knowing how to respond. This man doesn’t look like my brother, and he doesn’t sound like my brother, but I know he is my brother.
“It’s not an excuse, but when I tell you that I’ve changed, it’s because my brain is different, and I’m not just bullshitting you.”
Stone-faced, I just nod. Maybe I just need time to process this and verify that Luca’s not some alien plant. Meantime, I glance at a square cardboard box sitting on the coffee table.
“What’s that?”
“Oh,” Luca picks it up and offers it to me, “I was going to send it to you a while ago, but then I found out that you were coming home.”
It’s not taped, so I start pulling the flaps open.
“It’s kind of corny and I know it’s not a replacement, but I wanted you to have it.”
At first, it looks like a small pillow, but when I pull it out of the box, I realize it’s a folded-up blanket—a small quilt with little orange lions and green fronds all over it. I clench my jaw tighter, tamping down the whirlwind of emotions.
“I know it’s mine,” Luca continues, “but you deserve to have it instead.”
The quilt feels just like mine; feather soft, faded, and worn with both love and time. It never occurred to me that he would still have it, like everything associated with him was erased with each day he transformed into someone I didn’t recognize.
“Why?” I ask calmly, “What’s to replace?”
Because, as far as I know,Luca doesn’t know what happened to mine.
I lock eyes with him and wait, relishing the heavy silence.
“I let her in the house,” he confesses. “She was mad at you for the Marines and I saw her take it. She told me what she was going to do and I didn’t care. I didn’t stop her.” He doesn’t have to say whoheris, because we both know. “I don’t know why I did it. Maybe I was mad at you, too. Everything seemed so easy for you. You never needed anyone and you could just…leave.It was kind of like how you didn’t needher,and when it came down to it, you didn’t need me, either.”
