54. Brody
Brody
It’s been two weeks since everything went wrong at Hele House. I’ve spent most of that time in my flat, shutting everything and everyone out.
“Open the door, shithead,” Candice shouts.
“Yeah, we know you’re in there,” Kat bellows through the letter box.
Someone leans against the bell, causing it to ring continuously. That’ll be Merry.
“I bought beer.” The forth voice is lower in pitch. Jesus, things must be bad if my sisters have rounded up my brother, Garrett, for reinforcement.
I look down at my outfit. I’m not exactly dressed for company, but they’re family so the ratty joggers I only wear inside the flat and a t-shirt I think might be Matt’s will have to do. I open the door and all four of my siblings tumble into the flat.
Garrett immediately beelines for the fridge.
He has this thing about beer being served cold and hates the idea of drinking it any other way.
“If it’s warm it may as well be literal piss,” he always says.
I’m not sure he understands what “literal” means, because I’m fairly sure room temperature lager is still preferable to urine, but hey ho.
“How do you look both thinner and fatter at the same time?” Candice asks, her hands on her hips as she looks at me. “Like you’re simultaneously gaunt and puffy.” She huffs. “What do you think, Kat?”
“You’re also kind of pale and a bit sweaty looking.” Kat wrinkles her nose as she delivers her verdict.
“And those joggers are a hate crime,” Merry adds. Merry likes to call things a “hate crime” when she thinks they’re a crime against fashion and she hates them.
“What do you think, Garrett?” Candice asks my brother.
Garrett declines to comment. We’ve always operated a policy of three sisters being enough to contend with without us picking on each other too.
He simply hands me a beer and I accept it gratefully.
I love my siblings, but there’s something about them all arriving here en masse that makes me think this is an intervention.
They herd me towards the living room and guide me into one of the armchairs before making themselves comfortable on the other seats.
“We’re only here because we love you and we’re worried about you.”
So it is an intervention. The only thing missing is Matt to offer his unique take on my situation. But there’s a scrape of a key in a lock and then Matt appears, clutching two bottles of wine and a carrier bag which looks like it’s full of crisps.
“Well I think we’ve solved the mystery of your complexion,” Kat says staring at the alcohol and snacks.
She raises an eyebrow as she takes the bag from Matt and looks inside.
“You have enough Wotsits to sink a battleship. And are those salt and vinegar Chipsticks?” She sounds judgy – and she is, don’t get me wrong, Kat judges everything – but she’s also fishing for an invitation to tuck in.
She’s a contradiction but you get used to her after a while.
“Yes. They’re your favourite,” Matt says.
Kat narrows her eyes at him as if she’s suspicious he remembered, but this isn’t the first time he’s been sent to requisition snacks and I’m sure it won’t be the last. She takes the packet and then returns to her spot on the sofa.
The Jacksons have a one minute rule for seats and she won’t risk someone taking the prime spot she bagged for herself.
When we were growing up, every time you had to get up for something was like running a gauntlet.
In the end I just learned to be comfy on the floor, it causes far less drama.
But I don’t get to enjoy the Wotsits before I’m shipped off to the bathroom by Merry. “Just have a fucking shower and put some decent trousers on. It’ll make you feel a million times better about life.”
I do what I’m told. It isn’t worth trying to argue with my baby sister. She’s scrappy and loves a good fight. I’m five years older, fifty pounds heavier, six inches taller, and I still can’t beat her.
When I return, wearing a proper pair of jeans and a soft cashmere – well, cashmere mix – jumper, my hair still damp from the shower, my sisters give me a round of applause.
“It looks human again,” Candice says.
“Just,” Merry adds. I’ll take it as a compliment.
For two hours my siblings grill me about Ari and Only Fangs and what I’m planning to do going forward. They’re concerned about my broken heart, but also about how I’m planning on paying my rent since I don’t have a job anymore.
I don’t tell them that it’s all good since I borrowed a chunk of money from a demon. Instead I tell them I found an investor and that I’m going to build the app anyway.
“It’s for vampires though,” Garrett says. “Isn’t it. Or shit, did I get the wrong end of the stick again?” It wouldn’t be the first time that Garrett has misheard something, or put two and two together to make five, or even dreamt something which he then convinced himself is actually real.
“No, you’re right,” I tell him and watch him visibly relax that he hasn’t “done a Garrett” this time.
“But you’re not a vampire.” There’s the tiniest hint of a question there, like perhaps he has forgotten that his only brother may in fact be a vampire.
“No,” I say slowly. “But Matt is.”
“Nan still thinks it’s porn,” Kat says.
“It’s not porn, is it?” That’s Garrett again.
“It’s a dating app.”
He points his two index fingers at me like he’s shooting a gun with each hand. “Got it.”
I think I must convince them the world isn’t about to end because after another hour the siblings disperse, all of them have far better things to do with their Thursday evening than spend it with “Mopey Pants” – that’s Merry’s new nickname for me.
Matt and I decide to play some Balatro on the Switch.
I won’t go into all the details of the game but it’s basically a type of super-charged poker you play against the computer.
It’s highly addictive and I think I’ve played about fifty hours so far this fortnight.
It’s definitely helped to take my mind off the things I don’t want to think about.
The doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it,’ Matt says, jumping up. I’m guessing from his reaction that it’s Ivan. Otherwise he never offers to answer the door. “Brody,” he shouts a few moments later. “You might want to get your arse out here.”
For fuck’s sake, I was having a really good run in the game. “Who is it?” I call.
“Just get out here,” he replies.
I sigh and put down the controller.
And there she is.
Just standing on my doorstep.
I pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.