Chapter 16 – “Ribs” - Lorde
VICE
“RIBS” - LORDE
“Do you think I could do this upside down?” Leo asks.
I drop my book, glancing at him from the other end of the couch.
He’s got his feet against the wall, head dangling off the end of the sofa as “California Love” blows through the Bluetooth speaker on the desk in the corner.
A blue glass bong sits in front of him, and his eyes are narrowed in deep concentration as he attempts to flick his lighter and stretch his neck so that his mouth can cover the pipe.
“I can’t fucking believe you’re about to be a dad,” Everett mutters from the chair across the room, offering Leo the same perplexed expression I know I have.
Miraculously, my brother gets his lips around the mouth of the bong while simultaneously lighting the bud, inhaling a perfect hit before using his free hand to push the bong away from his head and blow out a cloud of smoke.
“First of all, fuck you.” He points at Everett.
“I’m going to be a great dad. And secondly, fuck you.
” He swings his legs sideways, damn near taking me out in the process.
I shove his shin out of my face and off the couch as he moves into a sitting position beside me.
“You know I have actual fears. How dare you exploit them like that.”
“What fears?” I ask, closing the book in my lap. There is no way I’ll get any reading done so long as they’re here.
I got off work this morning at eleven, and about four hours later, both of my brothers let themselves into August’s house, waking me from my nap and asking me to join them for a smoke session in the sunroom.
I haven’t ventured in here much since moving in, but it’s a nice enough space.
Clearly, August uses it as some kind of studio with a makeshift tattooing bench and a worktable sprawled with canvas paper and pencils.
There is a couch against the back wall, facing out into the backyard through the wall-to-wall windows across from it, and a lounge chair in the corner.
Supposedly, Darby kicked Leo out of the house for a few hours this afternoon because he’s smothering her.
He says he’s not, and we all know that isn’t true.
He smothers her on a good day, when she’s not pregnant.
The way I’d describe him now is more like he’s attempting to crawl inside her skin and carry the baby for her.
I don’t blame her for telling him to get out of her face and settle down before coming back home.
“My dad abandoned me,” Leo continues. “I mean…he loved my mom, but he couldn’t do it without her, and when he had to, he just gave up.
” He speaks of the situation casually, but the distant look in his eyes and the way he chews on the inside of his cheek tells me it’s something he battles with often.
“What if something happened to Darby, and I ended up the same way?”
“It’s not something in your blood, Leo,” Everett scoffs.
“That kind of shit is learned behavior, and that asshole didn’t raise you.
Carlos and Monica Ramos raised you, and they did a good fucking job.
The only thing in your genes is a susceptibility to alcoholism, which is why you smoke weed.
” Everett nods toward the bong. “You’re going to be a good dad. ”
Leo sends him a grateful smile. “You’re a good dad too.”
“I know.”
“Do you guys think I’ll be a good mom?” I ask.
Everett inhales so sharply he begins coughing, and Leo looks at me like I just kicked a dog. Their heads swivel frantically between me and each other, eyes wide, mouths gaping, unsure how to respond.
I burst into laughter, the sativa Leo brought beginning to kick in. “I’m kidding. You know I don’t want fuckin’ kids.”
Everett lets out a sigh of relief as Leo rubs a hand down his face.
“You have all the qualities of being a good mother, but your lifelong adamancy of not giving birth kind of threw me,” Leo says. “You will be a cool-ass aunt, though.”
“Oh, absolutely.” I nod rapidly. “I’m going to be super mysterious and edgy.
I’ll teach them all tarot and how to put a man in his place.
I’ll show them where to find the sluttiest fanfics on the internet, and I’ll introduce them to Lana Del Rey so they never forget who our Lord and Savior really is. ”
They frown at me, and I’m so fucking happy that both of my brothers are girl dads. I laugh again, falling back onto the throw pillow behind my head and tossing my legs into my brother’s lap.
“I like hearing you laugh, Lele,” Everett admits. “You seem like you’re doing better, and Dal said you’re doing a great job at the bakery.”
“Tell my boss not to talk about her employees to her boyfriend. It’s unprofessional and none of your fuckin’ business.” I kick a leg out, pointing at him with my big toe.
The grand opening of the bakery was this past weekend, and it went amazingly.
People came from all over the region to celebrate it.
Turns out Dahlia’s background in marketing, graphic design, and social media did wonders for promoting the bakery and the boardwalk as a whole.
I worked three twelve-hour days in a row, the entire family along with me, and I can’t remember the last time I was so fucking exhausted.
It served as a good distraction after whatever the fuck happened with August in my room last week. I’ve hardly seen him since, having just one wordless run-in in the kitchen on Thursday.
When I decided to masturbate with my bedroom door wide open, right around the time he gets home from work, I knew that I’d inevitably cause chaos because of it.
I thought he’d sulk, slam doors, and maybe yell at me later on.
I did not think he’d appear in my doorway for a front row show, but once he started playing the game, I didn’t have the strength to call time-out.
I joined right in, and something far too real erupted from that pent-up frustration.
It was rough and wild and painful, but soft and tender and raw at the same time.
Emotionally exhausting and spiritually fulfilling, all while providing a desperately needed release I’ve been craving far too long.
Nothing has ever felt like that—like him.
It’s equal parts terrifying and addicting, and I want to do it all over again. I want more of it. All of him. The yearning to feel him inside me is agony—a constant gnawing urge I can’t relinquish on my own. The need festers beneath my skin.
I’m hot just thinking about it.
“Elena?”
My eyes snap to my twin’s, face flushing. “What?”
“What are you thinking about?” Leo nudges me with his knee.
I don’t bother lying. “An orgasm I had last week.”
“Jesus Christ,” Leo mutters, shoving my legs off him and curling his lip at the same moment Everett groans, “Why the fuck would you say that to us right now?”
“You asked?”
My brother rolls his eyes. “I was trying to be fucking sentimental. Goddammit!” He runs a tattooed hand through his hair. “Can you not allow me to live in a blissful ignorance where my sister isn’t a sexual creature?”
“Why does it offend you so much?” I ask. “I don’t yell at Dahlia when she yaps about how big your dick is, no matter how disturbing I find it. Stop conforming to gender norms, Everett.”
“You shouldn’t have said that thing about his dick,” Leo murmurs. “He’s going to be annoying now.”
“I didn’t need the reminder. I’m well-fucking-aware.” Everett smirks. “And I’m a feminist. We know this, don’t insult me by insinuating otherwise. I don’t think it’s wrong. I just don’t want to hear about it. You’re like a baby to me.”
I smile innocently. “A baby who was so thoroughly ravished—in filthy, derogatory ways, just so we’re clear—that she’s still thinking about it, even a week late—”
“Hey, Auggie.” Leo flashes a shit-eating grin, eyes raising to something behind me.
My mouth clamps shut, words stuck in my throat as I slowly turn my head, finding August towering in the doorway.
Of course, he’s just gotten home from a run, so his white T-shirt is sticking to his toned chest, a lickable bead of sweat falling down his temple.
He’s fighting to maintain his composure, but when his eyes flash to me, I find a heat that could match the flame in my cheeks right now.
He heard every fucking word.
“Am I interrupting?” he asks softly. He’s not wearing his glasses, so his green eyes are clear and smoldering when they meet mine, burning holes through my fucking face. “I heard commotion and figured you both must be here.”
“My wife told me I had to leave the house because I’m a stage-five clinger,” Leo chimes.
“I’m not surprised by that in any capacity.
” August smiles playfully before lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, revealing his lean stomach and golden skin.
The pronunciation of his abdominals could’ve been carved by Michelangelo himself.
It’s actually insulting to look like this. It pisses me off, in fact.
A frown tugs at my lips as my gaze catches on an unfamiliar tattoo along his ribcage.
It’s fucking huge and heavily detailed. The art is beautiful but heartbreaking.
Literally. A human heart spans the length of his side, framed by unmistakable violets, exactly like the design along my forearm.
A knife pierces the heart from top to bottom, blood dripping down the blade.
Some kind of script or writing is faded behind the heart, but before I can attempt to make out the words, he drops his shirt, breaking my stare. When I lift my gaze to his face, his eyes are on me.
“You did interrupt,” Everett says, filling the awkward silence. “Our sister here was just telling us all about her orgasms. So, I’d like to thank you for your timing, actually.”
August fights to keep his expression neutral, but I don’t miss the slow rise of his brow beneath that gold hoop pierced through it. The near imperceptible tilt of his lips as he eyes me once again.
“Well, unfortunately for you two”—he nods at my brothers—“I’ve got to take a shower. So, I’ll leave you to Elena and her orgasms.” He smirks, giving me a final once-over before he spins off the door frame and disappears down the hall.
I can only pray that the color of my face doesn’t match the heat licking up my cheeks. My stomach turns over on itself, butterflies clog my throat, and my pussy fucking throbs at the weight of that interaction.
I swallow, willing neutrality into my features.
“So, how’s that going?” Leo asks.
My eyes flash to his, and while he studies me intently, there’s no accusation in his gaze or in his tone. I glance at my twin, who’s oblivious as always, staring down at his phone.
“How’s what going?”
“You and August. Are you good? Friends again? You haven’t talked to us about what living together is like, and I want to make sure you’re comfortable here. Not feeling like you need to stay here out of necessity.”
Everett perks at that, and he slips his phone into his pocket before leaning on his knees.
“Living here is fine. We mostly stay out of each other’s way.” I pick at my nails. “We’ll never be friends again, but we coexist like two roommates should.”
Everett hums contemplatively, his foot tapping against the floor.
“What?” I ask, looking at him. “What is it you want to say?”
I can always tell when he wants to say something but is too afraid, or otherwise feels like he can’t.
“You seem to be doing better.” He shrugs. “I thought August may have something to do with it, that’s all.”
“He gave me a place to stay,” I respond.
“So, that’s something, I guess. But I don’t really need the rest of you holding out hope for anything more.
Too much has happened, and we’ve outgrown each other.
” Those words burn like acid as they crawl out of my throat.
My soul wants to scream wrong, wrong, wrong but I continue, “We won’t be friends like we used to be. ”
“I think it’s more than that, Lena,” Leo chimes in.
“If you’ve ever loved someone, in whatever capacity that may be, you never fully stop.
A little part of you always hopes for their well-being.
I think just knowing he’s here, that he’s safe and okay, after everything we’ve been through…
It’s helping you, even if the relationship isn’t the same anymore. ”
I only shrug.
Of course, he’s not wrong. I’ve always longed for August to be safe and healthy.
Maybe not happy, not in my deepest moments of despair when I needed someone to blame, but I savored whatever information my family would share in passing.
The confirmation that he was breathing was something I couldn’t function without.
“I mean…the first two days Darby and I drove from Kansas out here, she didn’t even speak to me.
” Leo laughs to himself. “There was so much tension, so many secrets, we were completely untrusting of each other, but it was like…” He shakes his head, taking a breath.
“Just knowing she was under the same roof I was, even if in different rooms, I felt settled. I felt whole. That if she needed me, I was nearby. That I knew where she was and that she was safe. After so many years of asking questions, or fear I’d stumble across her name in an obituary or something like that… the knowing, it helped.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “It does.”
“Yeah, well…” Everett sighs. “I still think you should be seeing a therapist.”
Everett has been pushing therapy to me since the day Zach died, but even harder in the last six months. They tell me everyone is going to therapy now, at the insistence of Dahlia. Even August has one, a fact which took me by surprise.
But even with the distraction of living here, the distraction of having a job, the urge to write again—that heaviness in my bones remains.
That guttural exhaustion and self-loathing rest beneath the surface of my skin.
Therapy would mean pulling it out, addressing its existence, and I’ve just learned how to pretend again.
Therapy would mean speaking of my past, opening up wounds I’m still attempting to bandage.
Seeing a therapist would mean telling the whole story, and maybe it’s not rational, but I’m terrified of the chance that they may look me in the eye and confirm all of my fears.
I am the villain, I am to blame, and there is no hope for me.
“I don’t need therapy.” I laugh, dodging the concern as I settle back into the couch and throw my legs on Leo again. “I have books, weed, and good orgasms. I’m doing great.”
I smile at my brothers, lying through my teeth.