CHAPTER FIVE
Thick, Red, Ink?
SERENITY
Brooks stops at the vending machine and hums serenely to himself. He presses his forearm into the glass case and leans closer. Lake pointed out to me yesterday that Brooks acts like a middle-aged dad. He isn’t wrong.
Brooks grunts. “Want anything?” He presses a hand into his lower back.
“No, thank you.”
We stepped out into the hallway after Lake fell asleep. He hasn’t been doing the greatest. His withdrawal symptoms are a wad of migraines and cold sweats. It’s like he’s having a common cold on steroids that isn’t going away.
At Boston Hope, the clinic tries to make the process as smooth as possible. Especially in Lake’s case. According to Brooks, Lake has only been taking heroin for a few months, but regardless, it’s a heavy drug. With death, revival, and a pack of bruised ribs, the transition to sobriety is anything but simple.
“Thank you for coming by today.” Brooks spins around from the vending machine, popping open a can of soda and slurping it. “It’s making Lake’s bullshit a lot easier.”
I smile. “It’s no problem.”
It isn’t. I’ve smoothly joined the two of them and their journey. While Lake seems confused as to why I’m always dropping by, he also doesn’t care, and I’m comfortable enough to consider the brothers as my sort of friends.
“You seem tired today. Even Lake got concerned.”
“Tired is an understatement.” I sigh out a long breath. “It’s just work, though.”
Brooks raises an eyebrow, taking another sip of his drink. “Is it—”
“Brooks Carter?” A woman cuts in.
His grouchy-dad body language disappears. He straightens his posture and turns to the voice. “Angelina? Wow! I haven’t seen you and Greg in ages.”
Brooks hands me his soda and gives me a regretful smile. I tuck in my bottom lip and sink my body into the wall.
“Brooks. Oh, my goodness. We still love the house. It was so easy to baby proof for our little one.” The woman shimmies her head and shoulders. “Everything is just perfect.” Her hair breezes around her body. The smile on her face is beautiful perfection.
“I told you it would be! I’m glad you’re still enjoying it,” he pauses, “what? Eight months later?”
I knew Brooks was in real estate, but he must’ve taken acting classes too, because this soda in my hand does not belong to the Brooks Carter I’m getting to know.
“Yes! Anyway, my sister just went into labor. Is this the maternity ward?” She slaps her hand over her chest. “Oh! Is your wife having a baby?”
I tilt my head. I’m positive Brooks doesn’t even have a wife. Let alone a pregnant one.
Brooks shakes his head, holding out a finger. “Maternity is on the fourth floor.”
“Oh, shoot. Okay. I gotta get up there.” She goes to turn back to the elevator, but then she perks up again. “Wait! Can I get another one of your cards? My brother’s neighborhood is so unsafe. I want him and my nephew somewhere reliable.”
Brooks reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, handing her a sleek black card. “Have him call me.”
Angelina smiles from ear-to-ear. “Thank you. I hope I’ll see you soon!” She spins on her toes and runs back to the elevator, barely witnessing Brooks’ farewell wave. He keeps waving until the elevator doors are shut.
He leans against the vending machine, sighing and taking back his drink. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t seen your pregnant wife waddling around lately?”
“That’s because I don’t have one.” He laughs. “People assume I have the American dream because I sell them the American dream.”
The way he says that leads me to another question. “Do you enjoy real estate?”
“I only love it because of Lake,” he says, making my heart swell. “I started college a year late because I didn’t know what I wanted to do.” He nudges his head toward Lake’s room. “But Lake told me he was going into business and to go with him. He’s why I have my own company that’ll keep me secure my entire life.”
“I had no idea Lake did any of that.” I blink. “Did he finish college?”
Brooks shakes his head. “He’s about five credits short.”
My stomach sinks deeper into my body. Getting to know Lake has made one thing crystal-clear, he’s way too hard on himself. His almost-business degree is definitely on that list.
“He’s my baby brother.” Brooks nods to himself. “He’s done a lot more for me and others than he knows. A lot more than he ever needed to do.”
“I know he’s feeling the pressure. It might be worth mentioning to him.” I want to give suggestions without seeming pushy. Brooks and Lake are becoming my friends, but I don’t think I’ve established myself enough to get bossy with them.
“Yeah. That’s a good idea. Thanks Serenity.” He takes a last gulp of his soda and tosses it into the barrel next to us. “Anyway, back to you. Why are you tired?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Just work.”
Brooks huffs and stretches out his back. He swivels his torso from side-to-side. “Lake asked me to check on you. I need more than that. Otherwise, he’ll get pissy and dumb.”
My smile sprouts. “He asked you to check on me?”
Brooks rolls his eyes. “He’s unfortunately more observant than expected. Details. Please.”
“Well, of course the ER is always busy and often traumatic—”
“No.” Brooks shakes a finger at me. “Outside of work. There must be other shit making you look zombified.”
“Zombified? Thanks?” I pull my hair out from behind my ears.
Unfortunate is right, though. Before my shift today, I found out my water was days away from getting shut off. I paid enough to prevent that, and I walked to work in the cold. I try to tell myself it could be a lot worse. It could be. I’m lucky to be an RN. My salary isn’t horrible.
Then again, living costs are higher than a skyscraper. My human experience isn’t tied with a liveable wage. In a few years from now, I’d have a higher salary, and my sister’s crap wouldn’t have put me in this tight of a spot.
But it could be worse.
Brooks looks at me with a puzzled expression. He’s making that dad face where all fathers make when they try to figure out what their child is hiding.
I shake my head. “I’m just a little tight on money. That’s all.”
He rolls back his shoulders. “Ah.”
Ah? Is he sure he doesn’t have a pregnant wife wobbling around?
“How bad is it?” He strokes his chin.
I tilt my head towards each shoulder, pretending to weigh out the pros and cons. “I’ll get by.”
That’s very possibly a lie.
***
My driveway finally comes into view. It gives my tired feet a little more motivation to move forward. I drop my arms to my sides and breathe in the crisp air. There’s only a thin layer of snow on the ground, and thankfully, Boston’s anticipated winter storm hasn’t happened yet.
I love the snow when I can see it from my window. Not when I need to trudge through it, smelling like ER and sadness.
My eyes land on the rolled up newspaper laying at the edge of my driveway. I stop and pick it up, tearing open the wet plastic cover as I walk up the gravel. I don’t pay for my newspaper. It’s either the delivery person keeps dropping it on the wrong doorstep, or the previous homeowners forgot to cancel their subscription.
I pull my keys out of my bag and slip them into the lock. The thin plastic stays tucked in my palm as I unfold the newspaper and step into the slight-warmth of my home.
I kick my door shut, drop my bag onto the floor, and throw my keys into the bowl. My attention returns to the paper. One name on the second page causes a thick layer of anxiety to blanket around me.
The Mancini Family Terrified. The headline screams at me in dense black letters.
A simple interview following a high-class family. I linger on the picture of a broken mother. Her hair tucked in a high and tight bun. A tissue in her hand, dabbing her tear-streaked face. The interview was first recorded on Channel five, and it was compelling enough to add to the newspaper.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling my fallen heart beat quicker and quicker with each tick of the clock. I don’t need to read this. I can throw away the Newspaper. Out of sight, out of mind. If I just don’t read this, I might sleep better tonight.
I open my eyes and start reading right away. Words jump off of the page, adding to my rising heart rate.
Missing for almost fourteen months.
Limited released details.
A heartbroken and worried family.
His mother doesn’t know how to go on any longer without her son.
Blood found in his hotel room.
Was It murder?
If you have any information, contact the Boston Police department.
I drop the newspaper from my clammy hand onto the side table. My hand lands over my heart. I stare at the newspaper, leaving it there, instead of throwing it away.
I feel horrible for his family. I truly do. The few times Delilah went missing, it shattered my entire world. I wanted answers, too.
Answers now would be great. If she wasn’t lying six feet under, secured in her casket. She left me leaping over accusations, holding me in fear, never letting me heal and move past her death.
It’s just another punch to the gut. I’m the only one who helped my sister, but she hated me close to the end of her life.
I wonder if she treated it as her final show before overdosing, if that’s why she tied me up in all of this.