10

Where am I? My eyes are open. I am looking up through a canopy of branches that sway and whip in the rising wind. Rain falls on my face, heavy now. I reach up and touch my skin. It is there. It isn’t empty, faded. It is the face of a man, not a fifteen-year-old boy. I take in the air. I know where I am. I am at the old swim park. I know what it means.

Drew has not responded to my texts. Maybe he hasn’t seen them. Maybe I wish it could be true. Even if he did, if he saw them and understood, he might not come alone. He could bring half of the state police force. He could arrest me, blame me for all of this. He could paint one of his stories: I am the jealous little brother trying to bring him down. Or worse, Patsy and I are having an affair, and Lauren found out. That’s his game. And he never loses.

But we aren’t playing his game. I’ve made sure of that. He’s spent hours being unsure. Where am I? Why would I leave her car like that? My truck at her office? How could I have Patsy’s phone? Where is she? Where is Lauren? How much could they know? The bones?

I have him off-balance. I feel it to my core. He’ll come, and he’ll come alone. He will race here to confront me. He will, once again, underestimate me. He needs to. He can’t admit that, for the first time, I have defied him. Patsy has defied him. And for all his power, he can’t be prepared for that.


TIME PASSES SLOWLY now. I stand on the bank of the pond. The wind causes a light current to lap up on the black sandy beach. I reach down and pick up a stone. As the rain falls in sheets across the surface, I throw the rock out into the center.

A flash of lightning illuminates the park for the quickest of instants. It is like time stops, like I stand in the middle of some fading picture watching the splash. I imagine the stone sinking into the depths. I picture it falling and falling until it comes to rest on the roof of a rusted-out Ford Explorer, one that remained in peace for far too long.

“Liam.”

His voice is flat and hard, just loud enough to be heard over the storm. I turn, my eyes still adjusting to the sudden flash. At first, all I can see is a shadow. He towers between two of the cabins, his hands in the pockets of a long overcoat. I freeze for a second, because his face is so shrouded in darkness that I can’t see his features. I can’t see his eyes, his mouth. I need to see his face. To know it is real. To know all of this is real.

For an instant, I think to run away. Get out of there and never look back. For so long, I saw him as something above human. A god with the power to warp reality to his will. Since I saw him turn that power on Patsy, though, something changed inside of me. The years came crushing back. The torture. The fear. The disgust and guilt and pain. Everything that was broken inside me. I pictured it all being laid at the tiny feet of that unborn child, my brother’s future son. I saw the cycle so clearly in that moment. I saw my life repeating over and over and over again. No one could deserve that. I thought about everything I had done. And, for one shining moment, I found the strength to take a stand.

But his face. Trying to blink the rain away, to see him, I close my eyes. In that instant, instead of Drew, I see my father. He stands in his workshop, the light from that tiny lamp shining on his hard, sharp profile. Slowly turning toward me. But his face remains a void, a splash of nothing.

When my eyes shoot open, my brother is still wrapped in darkness. His face is still hidden. I need to turn away, to run away. Or the shadow will simply swallow me whole.

A jagged bolt of lightning crackles overhead. In the flash, I see. It is Drew’s face, his piercing eyes and flat mouth. He is real. He has always been real. He is not the emptiness. And he is no longer smiling.

“I know you brought her here,” Drew says. “You can’t stay away, can you?” He laughs. “Maybe I couldn’t, either, if I did what you did.”

My head shakes. I hear my fifteen-year-old voice when I say, “I didn’t do it alone.”

Drew finds this even funnier. He is practically in tears.

“Liam, we both know you didn’t.”

My eyes widen. It is the first time my brother has said this to me. His words rock my fragile hold on reality even more deeply. He takes a step closer to me. His features, even in the storm, begin to emerge. I can see his eyes clearly now. They are sharp and deadly.

“But who cares about that?” he says. “We can’t take it back. You can’t change it.”

“No,” I whisper.

He walks up to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder. I can smell him, clean and sharp. I swear I can feel the heat of him through the cold rain. His fingers grip me, dig into my muscle.

“We’re in this together, brother. We always have been.”