Read Online Dismantling Evan by Venessa Kimball - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Venessa Kimball
Ads: Link
Dad to Mom as they stare at me silently, waiting for my next move, my next psychotic spiral.
“I’m going to bed,” I say, which surprises to both of them.
Mom reaches into her purse and pulls out a brown transparent medicine bottle. “Take something to help you sleep, will you?”
I shake my head. “I told you that I’m tired. I don’t need them.”
Without waiting for an argument to start over the damn medication, I quickly mumble “Good night,” to them and take the stairs two at a time before disappearing into my room.
Lying in the dark, staring at the wall above my bureau, I watch the headlights of passing cars cast shadows of tree limbs from the oak tree outside; it’s beautiful. I get out of bed, grab my camera and slide back in, like moving too quickly will ruin the moment. Removing the lens cap and placing the lens on the camera, I continue to watch the grey tree limbs stretch repetitively on my wall. I bring the view finder to my eye and pinch the other one closed as I adjust the shutter speed to catch the moment. I press the shutter release, hear the click of capture, then pull the camera back from my eye, thumbing the film advance lever. Caught it; a moment in time that may never be repeated or may be repeated every night in this room for the next fifty years. The point is this one moment is captured right here in this camera for me to see anytime I want and remember how it made me feel the first time I saw it. I am indulging in the moment when I hear voices coming from the window closest to my bed.
I walk over to the window and see Gavin’s lanky frame standing in the middle of his backyard, the back porch light illuminating his army cap as he speaks to someone.
“I’m not tired,” Gavin says, chuckling a little as he kicks at the grass beneath him.
Who is he talking to? I try and angle myself against the window to see who is with him, but I can’t see anything. What if he is alone out there like earlier? I should check on him. I mean, what if he got out of the house with no one else knowing.
I look down at myself. I’m dressed in baggy boxer shorts and one of Dad’s old hand me down Beatles t-shirts. I’m decent enough. I grab a pair of flip flops and open my bedroom door a crack. I listen for Mom and Dad’s voices, nothing. They must have already gone to bed. Suddenly, I hear Dad’s snoring muffled by their closed door. Good, already asleep. Closing my door behind me, I tiptoe to the staircase. I hope this isn’t one of those creaking staircases. As I take the first step, I cringe. It doesn’t creak though and I step down another, then another; no creaks. I walk through the kitchen toward the back door. I shouldn’t be doing this! But I need to check on Gavin.
The debate doesn’t linger as I unlock the double locks and turn the knob. Stealthily, I pass over the threshold and into the warm and muggy night air. I haven’t been back here before, so it is a surprise to see how many trees there are in our yard. At a quick glance I count at least six, but that isn’t including the trees behind our house. There are no houses behind us and it looks like it is just green space with more trees. I glance to my right through the shrubs lining the chain link fence between the yards. Gavin is walking in wide circles, murmuring a chain of incoherent words with his eyes closed.
“Hey,” I hiss at him, but he doesn’t respond. Maybe he doesn’t hear me.
I step off our small porch and into the yard toward the fence to get closer to him. “Hey, Gavin.”
“He can’t hear you,” a deep voice calls from Gavin’s porch, startling me.
I peek between two shrubs and see Brody dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, leaning back in a chair, his black boots kicked up on the edge of the small table, and his hands casually cradling the back of his head. He looks me up and down as he says, “He has headphones on.”
After feeling his eyes invade me, making me blush, I realize I have invaded
“I’m going to bed,” I say, which surprises to both of them.
Mom reaches into her purse and pulls out a brown transparent medicine bottle. “Take something to help you sleep, will you?”
I shake my head. “I told you that I’m tired. I don’t need them.”
Without waiting for an argument to start over the damn medication, I quickly mumble “Good night,” to them and take the stairs two at a time before disappearing into my room.
Lying in the dark, staring at the wall above my bureau, I watch the headlights of passing cars cast shadows of tree limbs from the oak tree outside; it’s beautiful. I get out of bed, grab my camera and slide back in, like moving too quickly will ruin the moment. Removing the lens cap and placing the lens on the camera, I continue to watch the grey tree limbs stretch repetitively on my wall. I bring the view finder to my eye and pinch the other one closed as I adjust the shutter speed to catch the moment. I press the shutter release, hear the click of capture, then pull the camera back from my eye, thumbing the film advance lever. Caught it; a moment in time that may never be repeated or may be repeated every night in this room for the next fifty years. The point is this one moment is captured right here in this camera for me to see anytime I want and remember how it made me feel the first time I saw it. I am indulging in the moment when I hear voices coming from the window closest to my bed.
I walk over to the window and see Gavin’s lanky frame standing in the middle of his backyard, the back porch light illuminating his army cap as he speaks to someone.
“I’m not tired,” Gavin says, chuckling a little as he kicks at the grass beneath him.
Who is he talking to? I try and angle myself against the window to see who is with him, but I can’t see anything. What if he is alone out there like earlier? I should check on him. I mean, what if he got out of the house with no one else knowing.
I look down at myself. I’m dressed in baggy boxer shorts and one of Dad’s old hand me down Beatles t-shirts. I’m decent enough. I grab a pair of flip flops and open my bedroom door a crack. I listen for Mom and Dad’s voices, nothing. They must have already gone to bed. Suddenly, I hear Dad’s snoring muffled by their closed door. Good, already asleep. Closing my door behind me, I tiptoe to the staircase. I hope this isn’t one of those creaking staircases. As I take the first step, I cringe. It doesn’t creak though and I step down another, then another; no creaks. I walk through the kitchen toward the back door. I shouldn’t be doing this! But I need to check on Gavin.
The debate doesn’t linger as I unlock the double locks and turn the knob. Stealthily, I pass over the threshold and into the warm and muggy night air. I haven’t been back here before, so it is a surprise to see how many trees there are in our yard. At a quick glance I count at least six, but that isn’t including the trees behind our house. There are no houses behind us and it looks like it is just green space with more trees. I glance to my right through the shrubs lining the chain link fence between the yards. Gavin is walking in wide circles, murmuring a chain of incoherent words with his eyes closed.
“Hey,” I hiss at him, but he doesn’t respond. Maybe he doesn’t hear me.
I step off our small porch and into the yard toward the fence to get closer to him. “Hey, Gavin.”
“He can’t hear you,” a deep voice calls from Gavin’s porch, startling me.
I peek between two shrubs and see Brody dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, leaning back in a chair, his black boots kicked up on the edge of the small table, and his hands casually cradling the back of his head. He looks me up and down as he says, “He has headphones on.”
After feeling his eyes invade me, making me blush, I realize I have invaded
Similar Books
