brother, let’s have it.”
I remember now that Claire is, in fact, older than Gene by two years and that, at almost forty, she is the oldest of my father’s seven children. I am the youngest. Bookends, I think, and feel my lips relax into a smile. I’m glad she is here, whatever ulterior motives she may have. It feels nice to be taken care of again. It’s been a long time.
Gene reluctantly gives his sister three hundred dollars in cash, then hands me his business card. “Call me if you feel like talking,” he says, and I know he’s referring to the lawsuit he and my half-siblings have launched against Heath and me over our father’s estate and not my more recent trauma. Claire hurries him to the door. “And you, call me when you get home,” he says as his sister is closing the door after him. Seconds later, I hear her rumbling around in my cupboards. “Jade,” she calls toward the bedroom. “Turn that damn thing off and get out here. We’re going to Publix.”
There is no response.
“Jade, did you hear me?”
Still nothing.
“Honestly,” Claire says, walking quickly down the hall. “You’re going to go deaf with that damn thing on so loud.”
I follow her down the hall to the master bedroom where my large-screen TV is mounted on the sliver of wall between the two large windows opposite my queen-sized bed. On the television, a man is running from the police. He leaps over a tall, chain-link fence, landing in some high grass and finding himself face to face with an angry alligator. But Jade isn’t watching the TV. Instead, she is standing in front of the window, in much the same position I occupy every day, staring through my binoculars at the building directly across the way. “These are great,” she says, without turning around. “You can see everything and nobody knows you’re watching.”
Claire quickly takes the binoculars from her hand, returning them to the nightstand beside my bed. “We’re going to Publix,” she tells her.
“What? You’re kidding me.”
“Why don’t you lie down?” Claire says to me. “We’ll be back in an hour.” She pushes Jade toward the hall.
I hear the door to my apartment close, then do as I’ve been told and lie down on my bed, overwhelmed with exhaustion. My eyes stay open long enough to witness the man on TV struggling with the alligator, his legs inside the creature’s mouth. The alligator becomes a shark as sleep overtakes me and my nightmares settle in, the shark’s giant fin breaking through the surface of the ocean like scissors through tinsel. It glides menacingly toward where I am treading water, and I look down and see at least six more sharks circling my feet.
I swim frantically toward a distant raft, my arms and legs like propellers, chopping at the once placid water. I’m almost there.
And then I see him.
He is crouched at the edge of the raft, his body leaning forward, his face blocked by the sun. He reaches out his hand and I grab for it, about to pull myself to safety when I feel the roughness of the black leather glove he is wearing and smell my blood on its fingertips. I scream and fall back into the water as the sharks converge.
— FIVE —
I wake up bathed in sweat.
It is dark, and the TV is on. A woman on the screen is posing for photographs near the edge of a tall cliff. She is laughing and adjusting her wide-brimmed sunhat while her husband busily snaps her picture. “Back up just a bit,” he motions. She complies, tripping over a small rock and losing her balance, her feet shooting out from under her as she tumbles backward over the precipice. Her screams echo throughout the giant chasm as she plunges to her death, her hat flying off her head and into the air, swooping up and down with the wind.
Falling off the Grand Canyon,
the doomsday voice announces with barely concealed glee over the cheesy reenactment.
Number 63 of 1000 Ways to Die.
I grab the remote from the nightstand beside my bed and turn the TV off.
I remember now that Claire is, in fact, older than Gene by two years and that, at almost forty, she is the oldest of my father’s seven children. I am the youngest. Bookends, I think, and feel my lips relax into a smile. I’m glad she is here, whatever ulterior motives she may have. It feels nice to be taken care of again. It’s been a long time.
Gene reluctantly gives his sister three hundred dollars in cash, then hands me his business card. “Call me if you feel like talking,” he says, and I know he’s referring to the lawsuit he and my half-siblings have launched against Heath and me over our father’s estate and not my more recent trauma. Claire hurries him to the door. “And you, call me when you get home,” he says as his sister is closing the door after him. Seconds later, I hear her rumbling around in my cupboards. “Jade,” she calls toward the bedroom. “Turn that damn thing off and get out here. We’re going to Publix.”
There is no response.
“Jade, did you hear me?”
Still nothing.
“Honestly,” Claire says, walking quickly down the hall. “You’re going to go deaf with that damn thing on so loud.”
I follow her down the hall to the master bedroom where my large-screen TV is mounted on the sliver of wall between the two large windows opposite my queen-sized bed. On the television, a man is running from the police. He leaps over a tall, chain-link fence, landing in some high grass and finding himself face to face with an angry alligator. But Jade isn’t watching the TV. Instead, she is standing in front of the window, in much the same position I occupy every day, staring through my binoculars at the building directly across the way. “These are great,” she says, without turning around. “You can see everything and nobody knows you’re watching.”
Claire quickly takes the binoculars from her hand, returning them to the nightstand beside my bed. “We’re going to Publix,” she tells her.
“What? You’re kidding me.”
“Why don’t you lie down?” Claire says to me. “We’ll be back in an hour.” She pushes Jade toward the hall.
I hear the door to my apartment close, then do as I’ve been told and lie down on my bed, overwhelmed with exhaustion. My eyes stay open long enough to witness the man on TV struggling with the alligator, his legs inside the creature’s mouth. The alligator becomes a shark as sleep overtakes me and my nightmares settle in, the shark’s giant fin breaking through the surface of the ocean like scissors through tinsel. It glides menacingly toward where I am treading water, and I look down and see at least six more sharks circling my feet.
I swim frantically toward a distant raft, my arms and legs like propellers, chopping at the once placid water. I’m almost there.
And then I see him.
He is crouched at the edge of the raft, his body leaning forward, his face blocked by the sun. He reaches out his hand and I grab for it, about to pull myself to safety when I feel the roughness of the black leather glove he is wearing and smell my blood on its fingertips. I scream and fall back into the water as the sharks converge.
— FIVE —
I wake up bathed in sweat.
It is dark, and the TV is on. A woman on the screen is posing for photographs near the edge of a tall cliff. She is laughing and adjusting her wide-brimmed sunhat while her husband busily snaps her picture. “Back up just a bit,” he motions. She complies, tripping over a small rock and losing her balance, her feet shooting out from under her as she tumbles backward over the precipice. Her screams echo throughout the giant chasm as she plunges to her death, her hat flying off her head and into the air, swooping up and down with the wind.
Falling off the Grand Canyon,
the doomsday voice announces with barely concealed glee over the cheesy reenactment.
Number 63 of 1000 Ways to Die.
I grab the remote from the nightstand beside my bed and turn the TV off.
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