On instinct, my eyes dart to Dustin’s and his go wide before he catches himself and squeezes Sam to his side.
Dustin had a huge party out at his parents’ ranch. We’d made love in the barn on a bed of hay like a couple of hicks. He’d told me he loved me and was looking forward to our future together, the Jennings and Miller family names joining to be some kind of small town nobility. I told him I was leaving to go to Flagstaff for school and that I’d hoped to never come back, thus ending our romantic interlude. Thing is, I’d loved Dustin once, as much as I was capable of, but I didn’t love anyone as much as I hated Payson.
The reunions go on like this for another few hours. The liquor keeps coming and before I can control myself, I’m falling into old stories with my ex-best friend, ex-boyfriend, and kids I’d gone all through school with. Most of them seem to understand why I left, with the exception of Sam and Dustin, but as the drinks come, so does their eventual forgiveness.
At one in the morning, we stumble out of the bar. Too drunk to drive, we sit in the parking lot talking until half of us decide to call Henry, our resident cabdriver, and the other half chooses to walk home in the cool night air. I hop in the cab and because my dad’s place is on the outskirts of town, I’m last to be dropped off. It isn’t until Henry pulls up at the house that I get a bright idea. It’ll be the first time since I’ve been back and I’ll need the drunken lubrication to endure it.
Sober would be torture.
Come to think of it, drunk might actually be worse.
LUCAS
The room is dark except for the glow from my flashlight. My shoulder aches from a wayward spring poking through the thin layer of cushion on my secondhand mattress. I run the light back and forth along the edge of my bed, casting a yellow glow on three action figures propped between my bed and the wall. They serve as a tribute and a reminder of their death.
Spider-Man, Batman, and Pinkie Pie.
These weren’t actually owned by my siblings. I wasn’t able to return home after the night they died. I found those in one of those stores where everything costs one dollar shortly after I was released. I didn’t have much money, but I knew I had to have these so I’d never forget.
It’s all I have left of them; the only memories I’ve managed to hold on to are wrapped in three cartoon characters. I have no home videos or photos, only three pieces of molded plastic that have Made in China stamped on their feet.
Alexis loved the pink pony with the balloons imprinted on her flank. She never had a birthday party, but one of her teachers gave her a Pinkie Pie My Little Pony birthday card when she turned six. She coveted the stickers inside and ever since then my baby sister was obsessed.
Mikey was always trying to convince us that Spider-Man would win in any fight against any superhero, but Dave swore nothing could top Batman, even though we all agreed the guy wasn’t technically a superhero but instead a rich man with a lot of gadgets. I mean, it’s not like he had X-ray vision or could spit webs from his palms.
The corner of my lips tug at the memory even if it’s only one of few. My blackouts have robbed me of the majority of my childhood, and I hate them for that. I want my brothers and sister back. I suppose it was a good thing I was practically blind with my own blood the night they died. At least what little I do remember was of their life rather than the image of their death. I spent their funeral behind bars, so even their half-sized caskets can’t haunt me.
Just these three palm-sized pieces of plastic along with a handful of fading memories are all I have left.
With the joy that comes at remembering them, there’s also pain. As much as it hurts to stare at the plastic and paint, I must. I face off with the sorrow and welcome it. It’s important I remember what I can. The horror of what can happen if I don’t keep my feelings in check. If I don’t hold on to my restraint.
Always remember.
The tiny painted faces of— I jump at the sound of something outside my window. Crunching gravel and . . . humming?
I click off my flashlight and close my eyes to concentrate, sure I misheard.
No, that’s definitely humming and . . . a giggle? Yeah, a feminine giggle.
I sit up and crawl across the floor to the open window. Listening close, I determine the sound is coming from the creek on the other side of the house.
With the lights off, I’m able to move freely without being seen, but all the windows are open, so I go light on my feet to avoid being heard. I make it to the living room and lean over the small table to peer out the window.
Squinting, I can barely make out the form of a person. A woman.
How in the hell did a woman get out here?
I search the surrounding woods for a car, another person, anything, but find nothing. It’s as if she just appeared out of thin air.