Kelly Gay - The Better Part of Darkness

The plate of nachos slid onto the counter with a slight rattle. Bryn’s cheeks were mottled pink as she grabbed one, shoved it into the sour cream and then into her mouth. She even chewed angry. “Have some before they get cold,” she mumbled, leaning into the corner of the counter and taking another one.

Automatically, I did. The first bite of melted cheese, salty nacho, and hot pepper made me realize that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. My stomach let out an eager growl.

“Connor had gifted blood, too,” she said, eyes narrowing. “You always denied it, but he did. Just like you deny yours.”

The mention of our brother closed my throat and brought a sting of tears to my eyes. Bryn handed me a bottled water from the fridge. The cold liquid soothed my throat and helped temper my emotions. “Can we not talk about him?”

She sighed. “You never want to talk about anything.”

“That’s not true.”

“Uh, yeah it is. You’ve never talked about him; you do know that, right? You keep it all to yourself.” She blinked back sudden tears. Her lips trembled. “I loved him, too. Don’t you think I deserve to know what he felt, what he said to you the day he died?” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and threw her hands in the air. “You know something, Charlie? You do whatever you want, and you never think about anyone but yourself. It’d be too hard for you to talk, too hard for you to ask for help … Does it ever occur to you that the rest of us feel left out, not a part of your little one-woman club?” She paced in front of the counter, gave one last huff, shot me a glare, and then said, “Forget it. I’m going to bed.”

What the hell?

Her door shut softly, and I stared at it for a long time, a chip in my hand, paused in midair. Bryn never went off like that. And more startling were her words—words that hit my very heart and made it face truths I didn’t want it to. I wasn’t selfish. How could she say that? But even as I convinced myself of my innocence, I knew she was right. I’d always told myself that I kept things locked away because it would only hurt her. Better she didn’t know. Better she didn’t get involved in my current state. Better for whom? Who was I to decide that for her?

God, you’re a dumbass sometimes.

The last ones in the world I’d ever hurt were my family. But I had. I’d hurt my sister without even realizing it.

I ate another chip, wondering why I felt like I had to carry all my burdens alone. That question rolled around my mind as I finished the nachos and then cleaned up. We hadn’t touched the coffee. Typical.

I sat on the couch and removed my shoes, sitting back for a moment to wiggle my toes and let my muscles finally relax. My mind, however, was filled with self-loathing and analyzing. Hell, maybe I deserved to carry my burdens alone. Maybe it was my penance.

I should have listened to my brother’s voice in my head the day he died.

He cried out to me, and I didn’t listen.

Connor and I were more than your average twins. Bryn was right, he had gifted blood, but then so did I when it came to Connor. From our earliest memories, Connor and I could hear each other’s thoughts. As children it was fun. But, as teenagers, we routinely blocked each other out. I mean, who wants to hear lusty teenage boy thoughts or share your secret crush? We’d gotten good at blocking. And I’d gotten good at denying we were special. As a teenager all I wanted was to fit in, not stand out. Especially in a bad way. I’d seen how people had treated my clairvoyant grandmother before the Revelation. Called her a kook, a liar, a weirdo … So when Connor called to me, I’d blocked him out as usual. I didn’t know he was about to die, that he was trying to ask for my help to save him.

He died because I didn’t listen.

Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. I swiped them away, feeling the familiar anguish of Connor’s death return. With a heavy heart, I stood and forced the grief back into the far recesses of my mind, telling myself that I’d had enough for one day.

Emma’s room was dark, save for the street light outside making the blinds glow like a night-light. It hurt even more to see her sleeping there, curled up, the covers tucked underneath her chin, which jutted out straight and proud, her lips squashed together and her cheek bunched against her pillow. I loved her so much. I didn’t want to hurt her or eventually tune her out like I’d done with Bryn.

I removed my jeans and undid my bra, pulling it out through the sleeve in my shirt, and then slid onto the full-size bed, curling next to her. Instinctively, she snuggled into me, grabbed my arm, and pulled it around her to hold on to it like one of her stuffed animals she slept with at home. My body relaxed. The smell of her hair lingered on the pillows and sheets and low in the air above the bed, and the scent of her skin was still reminiscent of the powdery baby smell of newborns.

My eyelids drifted closed. My breathing slowed. Just a little bit of sleep. Until morning.

Bryn talking softly and nudging Emma from sleep woke me before it woke my daughter; she was like her father in that way. Both could sleep like the dead. I didn’t move at first, just opened my eyes to see my sister’s apologetic grimace. Apparently she’d been trying to let me sleep.

Em snuggled deeper into the mattress and closer into the curve of my body. Then she stilled, realizing I was there. “Mom?”

Her groggy voice pulled a soft smile from my lips, and I propped up on my elbow to kiss her cheek. “Morning, doodlebug.”

“Not … going … to school … today.” Deep groans of protest went through her as she flipped onto her stomach and buried her face into the pillow. “What are you doing here?”

I rolled onto my back and lifted my hands above my head to stretch. “Yes, you are going to school. And I had to sleep here last night because a water pipe burst in the house.”

Bryn met my gaze and I shrugged. It was the best I could come up with.

Emma’s head immediately lifted. I could barely see her profile through the massive poof of her tangled, wavy hair. “What about Spooky?”

“I’m sure she’s fine.” Damn. I’d totally forgotten about the cat. Great. If Spooky had gotten out, or worse, gotten hurt by the broken glass or the brick flying through the window, I’d have a devastated kid on my hands.

“C’mon, kiddo, you need to get dressed,” Bryn said. “Breakfast is almost ready. I’ll go and get Spooky after I drop you off at school.”

Saved by my sister. I sat up as Emma shuffled off to use the bathroom and spoke before I could analyze myself out of it. “Bryn …” She stopped at the door and turned. “What you said last night…. You were right.”

She frowned for a second as though she hadn’t expected that and then gave me a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I stared at the closed door, knowing she wasn’t about to give in until I confessed everything. She’d had enough. And I couldn’t blame her. Made me feel like shit, but I did understand.

In the adjoining bathroom, I brushed my teeth with the spare Bryn kept for me, and then turned on the shower as Emma wiped her face on a hand towel. When I straightened, she was standing by the shower staring thoughtfully at me, her face and lips still puffy from sleep. Her wild hair made her shoulders seem smaller and her bare legs look skinner than they already were. She resembled a little cavewoman standing there, arms hanging limp and tired at her sides. My kid was not a morning person.

Her eyes narrowed into a calculating expression so obvious that I had to bite the inside of my cheek to hide my smile. Her voice was still soft and sleepy when she spoke. “Daddy still loves you, you know?”