6
SEX
Finn
Nocte liber sum Nocte liber sum
By night I am free.
Alea iacta est The die has been cast. The die has been cast.
The die has been f*cking cast.
Serva me, servabo te. Save me and I will save you.
Save me.
Save me.
Save me.
“Hey, bro.” Calla walks into my room, abruptly, unannounced, and I instantly close my journal, hiding my thoughts behind its brown leather cover. “What’s up?”
I smile, swallowing my panic, hiding everything carefully and completely behind my teeth.
“Not much. You?”
“Not much. Just restless.”
She hops onto my bed, sitting next to me, her fingers immediately tracing the letters on the front of my journal. She knows enough not to open it.
I shrug. “We should do something.”
Act normal.
She nods. “K. Like what? Wanna drive to Warrenton beach?”
To see the old Iredale wreck? We’ve seen it a million times, but whatever.
“Sure,” I answer simply. Because sometimes saying fewer words makes it easier to conceal the crazy.
We climb off the bed and Calla turns to me, grabbing my elbow.
“Hey, Finn?”
I pause, staring down at her. “Yeah?”
“You’ve seemed….off this whole week. I thought when you went to group a second time it’d help, but you still seem strange. If something’s wrong, you’d tell me, right?”
Youcan’tYoucan’tYoucan’tYoucan’t. You’re crazycrazycrazycrazy. Don’tTellHerYourSecretSecretSecret.
I swallow back the voices.
Act normal.
“I’m fine,” I lie. A blissful lie to spare her worry, to spare my pride, to spare me the humiliation of being dragged away to a padded room, to a place where keys are thrown away and the crazy people are forgotten, replaced by medicated shells.
“Promise?” Calla is hesitant, her red hair standing out like fire against my white curtains. She almost always accepts my word, but this time, she knows me. She knows I’m lying.
“Repromissionem,” I assure her. She rolls her eyes.
“You know, sometimes, Latin just complicates things. That took you five syllables to say what you could’ve said in two.”
I smile and shrug. “It’s a dignified language. It has character.”
“If by dignified, you mean dead, ok.”
She laughs and I pretend to, because honestly we’re shells anyway, medicated or not. We’re not the people we used to be. We just look like it on the outside.
We clatter down the creaky steps of our house, bickering back and forth, doing our best to seem normal because mom always said fake it ‘til you make it. We’re definitely doing our part.
As we round the corner into the large, elaborate foyer, the distinct roar of a motorcycle splits apart the serene atmosphere of the funeral home. We stare at each other.
We don’t typically get mourners on motorcycles this far up the mountain.
Dad steps past us, eyeing Calla curiously.
“Thanks for referring someone to me for the carriage house. I wasn’t expecting your help with that, considering how much you wanted it for yourself.”
Calla stops still, frozen in place, while she stares at dad.
“He called?”
He?
Her voice is filled with anxiety and happiness and hope. I stare at her. What the hell is this?
Dad nods. “Yeah. This morning. That’ll be him now, to look at it.”
Calla spins around and stares out the window, and I look over her shoulder.
A black, aggressive motorcycle, a Triumph, is parked on the circular drive, as a tall dark-haired guy stands in front of it, removing his black helmet.
Calla is so absorbed in watching him that she doesn’t realize how closely I’m watching her.
She smiles a beatific smile. “It’s been days since I told him about it. I thought he didn’t want it.”
My dad raises his eyebrow. “He still might not. He’s just here to look at it. Really quick—how did you meet him?”
She pauses. “I met him in the café at the hospital the other day. I’ve bumped into him a couple of other times. He’s been there visiting someone. He seems nice.”
Nice.
Dad doesn’t push her because the guy is already walking up the porch steps. “Excuse me while I go show him around.”
I don’t bother to ask her who the hell this guy is, or why she chose to invite him into our life by renting out the apartment that both she and I wanted for ourselves. I don’t have to ask. I can see it written all over her face.
She’s glowing as she looks at him, an expression I’ve never seen on her face. She’s interested in him. Very interested.
Apprehension builds in my belly as I watch my father shake his hand, as they walk side by side down to the carriage house.
The guy looks decent enough, but there’s something about him. Something unsettling, separate from the way my sister is staring at him in rapt fascination.
GetRidOfHimGetRidOfHimGetRidOfHim.
I ignore the voices, and watch the carriage house door close behind them.
A heaviness settles around me, something dark and oppressing, because even though I want to save my sister from me, I don’t know if I’m ready.
I smile at her. “Ready to go?”
She pauses, glancing back outside, hesitant now as she stares at the closed door of the Carriage House.
“Um… let’s have a raincheck, ok?”
I suck in a breath, startled that she would ditch me for this guy. I should’ve known from the new look on her face. The look of intoxication. But having it actually slap me in the face for the first time is still shocking.
She has an interest outside of me. Something that came between us, even though the moment is small… even though it’s just a stupid drive to the beach.
Even though I want to be unselfish, I don’t know if I can handle it.
We were outsiders our whole childhoods and all the way through high school. And while it sucked, it was also a hidden blessing, because since I was all Calla had, she focused solely on me. We’ve always been everything to each other.
Bile rises up in my throat as I watch her descend the porch steps and walk across the lawns, her chin stuck out, and her hands buried in her hair as she arranges it over her shoulder.
I need her. I need things to stay the same. But I can’t risk her. I can’t suck her down. I can’t let my craziness swallow her then spit her out. But I need her.
My thoughts are contradicting and confusing and swirl around in my brain until I can barely focus. I stagger to the window seat and stare down, my forehead pressed against the glass as I try to catch my breath.
Serva me, servabo te.
Save me, and I’ll save you.
As I remember the dark-haired guy’s confident stride, I have a feeling that he’s someone I won’t be able to save her from.
But the die has been cast.
I see that now.