Desolate(4)
My hand strokes over the scar Ryan gave me with the sharp end of his knife, reminding me every day of how close I came to death, and how dead my brother is inside. The Doctors all believed he was fixable but I can’t believe he is. Someone who was never broken can’t be fixed. Melody dislodged something inside me all those years ago, something I had put in place to keep the emotion out, but she awakened my soul and loved me in spite of my sins. I was broken, and gradually she reassembled me. I wish more than anything someone could do that for Ryan but I know it’s impossible. There’s nothing to fix inside him. The way he looked at me when he sliced into me will never leave me; it’s more of a scar than the one decorating my skin. He was a wolf and I was the hunted. He played me so effortlessly, and preyed on my love for him, waiting for the moment to strike me where it could do the most damage. He wanted to take Mel away from me. He wanted me to know he was going to kill her. He was completely empty and he wanted us to feel as hollow as he was.
I had a meeting request from his psychiatrist a week ago and I have yet to call. I hate going there and don’t want to risk seeing Ryan, although I know that’s very unlikely unless I request a visitation. But just being under the same roof as him leaves me uneasy. I’ve only been there a few times, when the Doctors want to change his medication or update me on his progress. I’m his next of kin. Five years ago our mother finally died of that overdose I used to wish upon her. The funeral was laughable. You could hear crickets from the lack of people attending but I went to make sure she was really dead. With my wife on one side and my father at the other, we listened to the priest talk a load of shit that didn’t apply to her and then watched her being lowered into the ground. I felt both relief and grief. Grief for the mother she could have been and relief that she wasn’t around to fuck me up any more than she already had. She had visited Ryan once in all the years he was at Bluewater but he didn’t request to attend her funeral.
“Blake, baby, I need to go into the office,” Melody calls over the falling water. She had worked more hours than me lately. Her Editor-in-Chief quit out of the blue a month ago and left her working his job until she finds a suitable replacement. Her once small newspaper company has grown immensely over the years, but Melody likes to keep the heart under her watchful eye. She always had a vision for the type of news she would print and always stayed true to that. She made more money than we could ever spend, sponsors several charities, and offers internships at the company’s expense. I’m proud of the woman she’s become.
“You own the company, baby. Just promote someone already so I can keep you home to ravish you whenever I choose.” I open the shower door and pull her inside. She screeches and slaps at my wet chest, her robe becoming drenched instantly.
“Let me help you take this off.” I smirk devilishly.
I keep her in there for longer then I should but I need to take advantage of our time together. She’ll be at the office for the rest of the night and I could be called into work by the time she returns.
THE DOORBELL CHIMES AGAIN, MUCH to my annoyance. Cereus hasn’t spoken a word to me all night and the usual peace offering of pizza followed by Ben and Jerry’s didn’t bring her around.
“Don’t move, Cereus. I’ll get the door,” I mock as I walk past her sitting on the couch playing with her cell phone, unmoving despite the doorbell chiming more than once.
When I open the door I glare at the kid staring back at me. He has neatly styled hair, and he’s wearing a football jersey and a smile on his face that looks a little forced.
“And you are?” I ask.
“Hello, sir. I’m Matt. I’ve come to see-”
“Me,” Cereus answers, pulling the door further open and smiling up at me with wide eyes, imploring me not to embarrass her.
“Oh, now you get up. You’ve never mentioned a Matt before. Who is he?”
She wrinkles her nose, her tell for being pissed at me. “He’s a friend from school, Dad!”
“He’s a guy knocking on my door hoping to see my daughter at ten o’ clock on a week night. I have a right to ask questions.”
“That’s okay, Cereus. My parents would be the same way.” He smiles, assuring her.
“Have many boys calling for you at a late hour do you, Matt?” I ask with an edge to my tone.
He laughs but shifts on his feet. “No, sir. But I do have a sister and my father and I are very protective of her.”
Hmmm. I kind of like this little shit’s answers. Most boys would have stuttered and fled by now.