29. Twenty Seven
Twenty Seven
Creed
Waking in the morning is wildly different than it once was. Not only am I in a huge bed, in a huge room, in a huge house, but I find myself in a little spoon situation. If someone would have told me a year ago that I would share a bed with a girl at all, I would have thought they needed a lobotomy.
Yet here we are.
I’ve never been much concerned with masculinity, but this is just short of humiliating. Some time in the night, I curled myself into the fetal position. Taking the opportunity, Eden pressed her forehead into my back and wrapped an arm tightly around my waist.
To preserve my dignity, I tell myself that I’m doing it for her. If this is what it takes to stave off eardrum shattering screams, so be it.
Fluorescence flashes between the curtains, followed seconds later by a tremor. Another flash, and the hand gripping my shirt tightens.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sit up and look at the clock. Eden’s room is barely bright enough for me to read it, and I’m stunned to see that it’s a quarter 'til ten in the morning. It must really be coming down if it’s that dark.
Turning my head over my shoulder, wide eyes stare back at me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She doesn’t move an inch, but her eyes dart to the window.
“You’re scared of storms?” The bewilderment on my face must offend her, because she shoots up beside me and scowls.
“Yes,” she says emphatically. “You aren’t?”
“I can’t hear them, so they don’t bother me very much.”
I rise from the bed and make my way to the curtains, ripping them open. Murky gray floods the room, supplying a haunting cast.
Eden takes cautious footsteps towards the glass until we’re standing side by side. Not taking her eyes from the raging storm, she signs, “It was very loud up there.”
A pang hits my chest. I used to think that I had it bad, on the move with Cecil. But at least I had some who cared about me.
Throwing my arm around her shoulder, I steer her away from the window and toward the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, we watch one another in the reflection.
“I know what to do.”
The rain has subsided, misting the Earth and thickening the air. Eden and I sit beside the fire, soaking up the warmth. A pan of blueberry muffins sits on the rug between us. She pops the last bite of a third muffin into her mouth, cheeks stuffed to full capacity.
“They’re like pancakes, but easier to eat,” she signs in wonder. Brushing the crumbs off her fingers, she reaches for another.
I attempt to conceal my laughter, but there’s no hiding the grin splitting my face.
“They’re Cecil’s favorite, too,” I tell her, “so you better save him some.”
The muffin is halfway to her gaping mouth when she pauses, face falling. With an exaggerated sigh, she places it back down.
“Where is he, anyway?” She asks, biting at the corner of her lower lip. I shrug.
“Who knows? Cecil does what Cecil wants.”
Eden doesn’t respond, but her eyes dart around the room nervously. Then, she’s picking at her nails.
“What is it?” I coax.
“Nothing.”
My eyes nearly roll into the back of my head. If there’s one thing Eden isn’t good at, it’s concealing her emotions.
“Tell me, or I’ll throw these muffins to the birds.”
Her eyes narrow at me in disdain. But it works.
“Are they afraid of me?”
I consider lying to save her feelings, but then think better of it.
“Some,” I admit. “But Veda told them you won’t hurt anyone.”
Sadness flickers in her eyes, and her chin wobbles.
I should have lied.
I panic, hurrying to rectify the situation. “They don’t know you. Once they do, they’ll love you like I do.”
She shakes her head, covering her face with her hands. Reaching forward, I grip her wrists and lower them. I watch her imploringly, desperate for her to talk to me. Her shoulders sag.
“What if I hurt someone?”
“You would never do that.”
This only upsets her more, but instead of welling tears and frowns, her lips pinch in frustration. Pushing to her feet, she attempts to walk away. I’m quick to follow, and I catch her arm before she can make it more than a step.
Wrenching her arm free from me, she takes a step back. “You can’t say that,” she insists.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve killed people!” Her signs are exaggerated, amplifying the height of her emotions.
My stomach drops. I know what she’s done, but her admitting to it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Still, I try to rationalize with her.
“People who would have killed you without a second thought,” I argue.
She tucks her lips into her mouth. “Not everyone.”
This gives me pause, and a sense of foreboding fills the room. Lightning flashes in quick succession, illuminating the stark expression on her face. The ground beneath me quivers.
The storm rages.
“Who?” I’m not sure I want the answer, but I have to know. I’m not afraid of Eden, and I don’t believe she would ever hurt someone on purpose. But if she’s capable of taking someone’s life unintentionally, that’s a serious issue.
“I can’t,” she answers weakly.
I take a step closer. My fingers envelop hers, and I stroke my thumb down her palm.
“Who?” I repeat.
She stares at me unwaveringly, expression harried. Fractures of light are mirrored in her eyes, as though the bolts dance within her. The trees outside are nearly bent in half, the rain blows sideways. There’s a continuous rumble throughout the house, as if the walls themselves are agitated.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I’m unsure if the electricity is coming from the weather or the girl in front of me.
Her eyes flicker with defeat. Finally, she raises her thumb to her chin and signs a singular word.
“Mama.”
Hands folded on the kitchen table, I watch the window and wait for headlights to peek over the horizon. My brother has been gone the entire day, and I’m more than a little angry that he chose to pull one of his disappearing acts.
After Eden made her admission, there wasn’t a lot of talking. She was inconsolable for at least an hour, to the point I was worried for her wellbeing. I attempted to ask questions, desperate to understand, but she could only get out bits and pieces before she would crumble again.
At a loss, I took her to my room and laid with her until she fell asleep.
Which brings me here, waiting for my dickhead brother to grace me with his presence.
Lights finally shine through the post-storm haze and announce his arrival. I stay seated, knowing he’ll come straight to the kitchen in search of dinner. He’ll be disappointed to find that I was not his personal caterer tonight. For good measure, I hid the muffins in Eden’s bedroom.
Stalking into the room, my brother looks like a wet dog. Raindrop stains dot his long sleeve shirt, and his hair is stuck to his forehead. The moment he catches sight of me, he halts with a look of bewilderment.
“What–” he begins, but I’m quick to cut him off.
“Where have you been?”
Cecil cocks a brow, pissing me off further. God, he’s such a bastard. Walking past me, he signs the whole way, eyes darting over the kitchen in search of food.
“I hoped the nagging would stop once I told you everything.”
Stepping into his path, I press a hand to his chest. My nostrils flare, and he takes in my expression.
“Where’s Eden?” He asks, suddenly looking nervous.
“Asleep. She had a rough day, not that you give a shit.”
Cecil grimaces. “What happened?”
Answering his question with a question, I ask, “What do you know about her mom?”
Frustrated, Cecil’s lips part and shoulders sag on a long exhale. “Nothing. I assume she’s dead.”
“She is,” I confirm.
That grabs Cecil’s attention, and he narrows his eyes at me. Like he can read my mind if he looks hard enough.
“How do you know?”
“Eden told me she killed her.” The callous way I say it makes my own stomach churn.
My brother looks how I imagine I did when I was told this new bit of information. Face ashen, jaw slack.
“When?” He asks.
“When she was born. Her mom died during the birth.”
Cecil’s lips pull down. “Why would that be her fault?”
I throw my hands up in aggravation. “I didn’t get that far. She was hysterical.”
He nods, resigned. His lack of reaction is all the more infuriating. I’m the only one grasping the severity of the situation. Even Eden’s acceptance pisses me off. It’s like her brain is programmed to tolerate horrible things over and over, and she carries on without batting an eye.
Cecil stares off, deep in thought. I snap my fingers in front of his face, and he gives me an exasperated look.
“What is your plan?”
“You’ll have to be more specific.” He stretches his arms and yawns.
“With her. What is your plan with Eden?”
He leans against the counter, scratching at his stubbled cheek as he contemplates. “I’m not sure, yet.”
“You can’t make her hurt anyone,” I say firmly.
“I don’t want to,” His face is earnest. “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.”
My eyes nearly burst from my head.
“Hopefully!? You can’t–”
My brother mouths something, and then he turns his back on me and heads towards the hall. Marching towards the island, I slam my palms down on it repeatedly, forcing his attention back to me.
Whirling around, his index finger flies to his lips in an effort to silence me.
“You will destroy her. Can’t you see how fragile she is already?”
“I understand–”
“I’m not finished! You always say that you do these things to protect me, but that doesn’t make it any less selfish. You’re not afraid for my life, you’re afraid for how it might make YOU feel if something happened to me. Can you care for someone other than yourself for once?”
His face falters, and there’s a glimmer of something akin to devastation. But my brother is stubborn, and unfeeling, so he sets his jaw and schools his expression.
“Thank you for your input,” he responds coolly. “I will take it into consideration.”
The response is so formal, I almost expect him to shake my hand like we settled a business deal. Instead, he turns on his heel and exits the room. This time, I don’t stop him.