Chapter 24 #2
Theo made growing up easy when he was around.
I felt like we talked a lot, but now I question if his conversations with me were on a superficial level.
It sure didn’t feel that way at the time.
As children, we laughed over Sunday morning cartoons, physically wrestled over who got the last Oreo in the house, and told each other impossible fictional stories, within forts made of sheets and pillows.
I cherish the fond memories we had. Sometimes thinking back to them hurts, because I feel robbed.
Severed from creating more memories together.
The walk home is bitterly cold tonight. Pulling my coat closed tightly, I lift my hood to shield my face as hot tears rained freely.
I cry when I’m mad or sad. However, this isn’t a sorrowful cry.
I’m livid. Pissed at Eamon for keeping things from me.
Irate with Andrea because every interaction with her is instantly sour.
Lastly, I’m resentful of my brother. For fucking dying and leaving me to face this life alone.
He was more than just family. He was my teacher, my friend, and my hero.
I miss him every goddamn day and I’m reckless for it.
The apartment may as well be a dim icebox. I adjust the thermostat once inside, with hopes of warming my fingers and toes soon. Thanks to the extra money from the unexpected sale on the street, I could finally bump the heat to 60℉.
As per usual, no sign of Andrea. Honestly, I didn’t even care what she was up to.
I change into warm flannel sleepwear then search the fridge for something that won’t have me hugging a toilet in four hours flat.
Disappointed by the cold options, I move onto the shelf of nonperishables, settling on a mason jar of pistachios for tonight’s ‘brinner.’
You know… the time between dinner and breakfast? It will catch on one day.
I peer into Thelma’s tank, finding her nestled in her little fortress of solitude. She really loves that skull my brother added for her, all those years ago. The little spider was usually more active at night, so it was strange to see her cozy in the hide at this hour.
“Damn. I really need to freshen your substrate, girl.” I made a mental note to swing by the pet store within the next week.
Precariously juggling my phone and the jar of seeds, I collapse onto the couch.
Then, select the next episode in my marathon of family drama with weapons; pull the coffee table to the edge of my seat and begin shelling the green, tear-drop shaped fruits.
I try to tell my body; this is good for you.
I even said, “Mmmm,” to convince myself, but it was no use.
My stomach is in knots from thinking about what Eamon said.
After eating no more than a handful, I was done willing myself to ‘nourish my body.’ It did, however, keep my hands busy. Soon, I found myself with a pile of ivory-colored shells and a mound of uneaten pistachios. My stomach growls, unimpressed that I can play with food but not actually ingest it.
The phone vibrates next to me. I dust off my fingers and lifted the phone to check the notification.
The Stalker: Why did the pistachio get fired?
What? I jump up, immediately searching the dark street outside my window. No one’s down there… but I know he can SEE me! Just in case, I pull the drapes closed. My phone vibrates again from the couch. Another message. I know it’s him again.
The Stalker: It kept cracking up at work.
Is he? No! I type back.
Cindel: Was that a joke?
The Stalker: Yes.
Brodi thought he was a comedian, too. Most of his jokes were extremely inappropriate.
Could he be…? No. Fuck that. Even if my stalker wasn’t shielded by layers of Kevlar and cotton, I would still know it wasn’t him.
Brodi never took care of me the way that this man has.
Once the crazy notion passes, I text back.
Cindel: Are you drunk?
The Stalker: Not currently.
At the beginning of my shift, Eamon was wasted. Has it been long enough for him to sober up? If my stalker is Eamon, then he should know the answer.
Cindel: How well did you know my brother?
While I wait for a response, I start counting how many seeds I cracked. Cracking up at work. I bit my bottom lip.
“Not funny.” I declare to no one. Minutes go by. No response. One hundred and thirty-one shelled pistachios.
I put down my phone and paced the room. Pick up the device, still no response.
This is maddening! Fine. I turn off the television, clean up and restore my uneaten ‘brinner’ on the living room table, then brush my teeth.
After checking again for a response from The Stalker, I abandon any chance of “piece of mind” for today and crawl into bed.
“Watch me sleep for all I care!” I say within my darkened room.
My body is tired, while my mind is restless.
I try to readjust, elevate my head, put a pillow between my knees, but all I seem to do is toss and turn.
Sleep doesn’t welcome me. I even try playing games with myself, pretending the roaring in my ears is a swarm of crickets on a summer evening.
The sound morphs into a school bell that rings incessantly. Counting sheep is pointless.
Sometime between three and four in the morning, the sandman finally accepts me.
I dream of Theo. Not flashbacks but memories that ‘could have been.’ It was one of those realistic dreams. The ones that make you question whether or not this actually happened.
Twinkling lights illuminate our Christmas tree, while the carnage of wrapping paper and presents lay strewn throughout the room.
Laughing echoes in the distance, and I move toward it.
Like a movie playing for me, I observe as our family gathers around a table filled with delicious holiday fare.
Everyone is so happy. Laughing and talking.
Just watching them was enough to warm my heart.
Theo left the room briefly, only to return with a silver platter, which he lays in the center of the dining table.
Everyone looks at one another smiling, excited for the feast ahead.
I wish I could stay within this moment for the rest of my days.
Theo lifts the tray’s lid to unveil the main dish.
It wasn’t ham or turkey, but a skull. Everyone gasped at first, but then they started to chuckle.
Upon closer inspection I could tell the skull was not real.
Its surface decorated with tiny chips of paint and black outlines.
Unaware that something was within, I jumped back when a tarantula came out of its eye!
Everyone roared louder… Mom… Dad… but not Theo.
That’s when I notice he’s changed. His eyes now black.
Hollowed voids where his blue eyes should have been.
I startle awake from the vibration of the alarm on my phone. My body is overheated. Sticking to the sheets from the strange delusion. The whole room feels warm. Shit. The heat was on all night. I pull myself from my sweat covered bed and immediately head for a shower.
Once dressed, I head to the kitchen.
Andrea is sitting at the table staring at a bottle of wine adorned with a ribbon around its neck.
“Little early for a drink,” I state dryly, walking toward the sink for a glass of water.
She stands and thrusts the bottle into my arms. “It’s for you actually. From your darling Eamon.”
I examine the tag on the bottle of expensive French wine.
I’m sorry. Please allow me to make it up to you by making dinner. -E.
The door closes to Andrea’s room before I’m able to utter a word. Well, this sure adds fuel to the already blazing fire.