But now I was faced with another day. Another lie.
“Isn’t this the weekend of your brother’s anniversary party?” George’s question came out of nowhere.
I was working. At least I think that’s what I was doing. I looked down at the wood in my hand and saw nothing. No shape. No idea of the instrument I was supposed to create.
“What?” I asked, barely hearing him.
I had come into the shop as I always did. But I talked to no one. I couldn’t. The every day life I had painstakingly created for myself was quickly becoming not enough.
Not when my head was elsewhere.
“Don’t leave, Amelia. Don’t go with him,” I begged, trying to reach for her. I could see the star on his arm. It burned brighter than the sun.
I knew that when she left, she’d never come home again.
That this time was different.
George frowned. “Your brother. His ten-year wedding anniversary. You put in for the time months ago. Did the plans change? Are you not going anymore?”
Plans I had made months ago were completely insignificant now. It seemed ridiculous to continue to live this life of no substance.
What was the point?
What was the purpose?
It wasn’t real. No matter how easily I played the part. Who cared if people thought I had a brother? And happily married parents? And a childhood spent delivering newspapers and playing high school football?
Who was Elian Beyer?
He was nobody.
“Uh. I’m not sure.” I was fumbling. I was hesitant. My stories couldn’t keep up with the fallacy.
I got to my feet, grabbing my almost empty pack of cigarettes. “I need a smoke.” George’s frown deepened. Tate was watching but pretending like he wasn’t. I stared him down, letting him know that I saw. Stan and Nathan stayed busy, heads down.
Margie never bothered to look my way anymore.
It was just as well.
Their opinion was no longer something I cared about.
I didn’t care.
“Well, just let me know by the end of the day. If you’re not going away, I could use you in the shop,” George said but I had already started walking away. Outside. Away.
No one followed. No one joined me.
I was alone.
I lit my cigarette and walked down the narrow alleyway towards the front of the building. I stood on the sidewalk, staring across the street toward The Lion and the Rose Bookshop. I knew she was inside. Somewhere.
I knew her schedule. Had it memorized. Her whereabouts weren’t a mystery.
But everything else was.
I had spent years looking for that indescribable thing that would make all the pain worth it. I had thought living my version of a normal life was it.
It really wasn’t.
Was it Layna?
I knew the answer deep inside.
Of course it was.
I thought I had been trying to forget. Perhaps I was only trying to remember. Being with Layna made it easy to recall the things I had shoved deep, deep down. Into the darkest recesses. Into the shadows.
“Hold my hands, Elian. I’m going to spin you around,” Amelia laughed, linking fingers. Pulling me to my feet.
I was just a boy but I knew what love felt like.
It was this.
My sister.
“Ring around the rosy. A pocket full of posies.”
“Ashes. Ashes. We all fall…”
“Down!” Amelia cried, yanking on my hands. We crashed. We toppled. We fell.
Into a heap on the ground. Laughing. Singing.
Together.
“Elian, dude, can I talk to you for a minute?” Tate walked down the alleyway towards me and pulled a cigar out of his front pocket.
I turned back to look across the street. Towards Layna. Towards the monster that called to me.
“Again, Amelia! Again!” I squealed. My tired, seven year old arms held out for her to take.
“Ring around the rosy. A pocket full of posies…”
Sun. Cloudless skies. Young and true.
I smiled. Full of honesty.
Simple memories making me shine.
“We’re worried about you, man,” Tate said, sucking on his cigar. The brown tobacco leaves wet with his saliva.