Page 77 of His Property

I stride through my living room, past Gabi on the couch, and bound up the stairs. Gabi’s angry voice reaches me seconds later, but she’s speaking to Mae. I ignore them while they bicker about whether or not it was shitty for me to come here, and I grab the wheelchair from the physical therapy room.

I carry it down the stairs, my jaw tight as I meet Gabi’s glare.

“You’re breaking the law right now, Victor. I should call the police.”

Without a word, I unfold the wheelchair and stand up straight.

“I’m not fucking going anywhere with you so you can—”

“Stop,” I say, gripping the handles on the wheelchair. “I’m giving you what you want. If you want me to fuck off afterward, I will, but for the time being, just shut up and let me show you something.”

Her glare slowly falls, and she looks between me and the wheelchair. “Show me what?”

“I’ll tell you when we get there.”

She exchanges a look with Mae, then swallows. She seems uncertain about this, and I don’t think it has to do with me. I think it has to do with her being uncertain about truly wanting my honesty. It’s cliche, but the truth really does fucking hurt.

Gabi finally looks at the wheelchair and nods, and I help her into it. I push her outside while Mae trails behind.

I can feel the tension emanating off Gabi, but I ignore it. This is what she asked for. If she can’t handle it, that’s on her.

I wheel her to the fence line where a small vegetable garden is. It was my mother’s, and I haven’t kept up with it over the years, except for a couple of tomato plants in the summertime, so it’s mostly dirt. It’s a seven by four wooden box filled with soil and it’s only been moved twice since I can remember. Once two weeks ago when I dug up my father’s remains, and the other time the night that I killed him.

I crouch in front of the box before dragging it out of the way. When I stand, I look at Gabi and point to the loose dirt. “There. That’s where I buried Dad.”

Gabi’s breath fogs, and she wraps her arms around herself, staring wide-eyed at the old grave.

“He isn’t there anymore. After Mom came, I dug up the skeleton and incinerated it. His ashes are inside a coffee can in the trunk of my car if you want them.”

Gabi’s breath hitches, and tears spring to her eyes. I’ve been scared of this moment, scared of my sister finding out what happened or who I am, since the night I killed our father, but right now, Gabi’s tears don’t affect me. I don’t feel anger. I don’t feel regret. I feel exactly the way I did while I buried our father’s body. Nothing.

“W-why?” She looks up at me, her lip trembling and so many questions in her eyes.

I look away and tuck my hands into my pockets. I shrug. “He knew.”

“What?” Gabi asks. I look back at her, and her face falls. “What do you mean?”

A burst of anger flows into me at the memory that I’ve spent my life suppressing, and I fight the urge to shut down. I close my eyes and inhale a shaky breath, letting myself go back to that night. Letting myself feel the betrayal, the hurt, therage, but only for a few moments.

I open my eyes and clear my throat. “He heard me one night, when Mom was in my room. He opened the door and saw what was happening, and instead of stopping it, he left.”

Gabi moves her gaze to the grave. Her shoulders tremble, and she closes her eyes.

“After Mom left my room, I waited a while, then went to find Dad, and he was passed out on the couch. I stood over him, and I just…” I shake my head and feel tears slip onto my cheeks. “I felt so enraged. I know it isn’t rational, but I blamed him for what she did, even more than I blamed her. I spent so much time convincing myself that Mom was sick or that she really loved me or whatever, but Dad… I just…” I cough and glance at Mae who’s listening with her hands clasped in front of her. A wave of shame crashes over me, but I turn my attention to Gabi and keep going. “I hated him. I hated him so fucking much, and I’d never been so angry. I went to the kitchen and got a knife, and I stabbed him. Again and again. I don’t even remember him making a sound.”

Gabi gasps and clenches her eyes shut, and I absently reach my hand toward her. I pull it away and lay it at my side, my chest tightening.

“I’m sorry,” I say, frowning. I’m not sorry for killing our father, but I’m sorry for a hell of a lot of other things. I’m sorry for letting her believe he left her. I’m sorry for locking us into two more years alone with our mom. I’m sorry for hurting her, right now. I’m just sorry.

“I don’t know how much Mom saw, and we never spoke about it, but I knew she must’ve known,” I say because now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. “I buried the body and cleaned up the best I could. When I woke up, Dad’s car was gone and so was the couch.”

“I remember,” Gabi says, lowering her head and covering her eyes with her hand. “She said Dad left us that morning and took it with him.”

I shuffle my feet and look down at the ground.

“How could you not tell me?” Gabi asks.

I meet her eyes just as she lays her hands in her lap.

---