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"No, it can't wait until Monday... Well, why don't you use that little Econ degree Harvard handed you and answer that for yourself, huh...? Exactly. The Stock Exchange is closed on weekends, so we need to hit this now while market volatility is low."
I hold back a sigh. Of course, he's working. I shouldn't be surprised, given that he never sat down in his derby seat, and I doubt he was actually watching from somewhere else, but... did he really need to come in here for his phone call?
He swings by again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No. It needs to be done sooner than that. Call in another analyst. An intern or two, if you must... Yeah, well, capitalism doesn't sleep, just because it's their Saturday. This is what they signed up for... Yes, I'll make it there in time. I'll notify the crew to prepare the jet for departure."
My heart sinks, listening to the strain in his voice. Guilt eats at me for having been upset with my brother, even if it all was just in my head and I hadn't spoken a word to him. What's all that stress good for, if he never has a single day off?
"You have three hours, max. That's when I'll touch down in New York."
When his pacing stops abruptly, I angle my head, peering through the slit, until I spot him standing in front of the row of sinks, looking at himself in the mirror. His face doesn't really seem to show any emotion, despite his stressful tone. He's just... staring, blankly.
Heavy pressure weighs down my chest. I don't know why, exactly. It's not like he's having a mental breakdown from a problem that's surely not far from what he handles on a daily basis. However... when he sinks a hand into his pants pocket, I instantly pinpoint the reasoning for my concern and predict exactly what I'm about to see before it actually comes into view.
A small plastic baggy, filled with snowy powder.
I blink away an onset of tears, refusing their coming, yet I'm unable to look away as he prepares the line with his credit card. Right there, on the bathroom counter.
"Tell Katie to order in cappuccinos with extra shots, and some food from that Thai place around the block. My usual."
Tossing down his card, he gives himself another look in the mirror. This time, I see the dread there. In his eyes, whirling like a dark vortex. He sighs. "It's gonna be a long night. Goodbye." Click.
Silence envelops him, reaching the walls and every corner of the bathroom, so eerie I wonder if he can hear my shallow breaths as he stares down at that white line.
Stop him, a little voice whispers.
From snorting coke? He's a Kingston. He despises being told what to do. Perhaps I could brush the substance from the table? Steal his drugs? His pockets are endless, in both cash and connections. He'd have his next fix before he's airborne.
Save him.
Save...
Tears well, yet again. I know too much. I've seen our father's work logs, the proof that he abuses Elias, after training him his whole life as a prized pony, then turns around and secretly chains him up like an ox to pull a heavy carriage while the other hitches a ride up top. It's sickening. Exploitative—of his own son.
Elias won't listen to me, I tell that voice.
Try anyway. You're his brother. Who else will?
Certainly not Mom. She isn't around enough to notice, never was, and we don't have any other siblings.
He's alone... Truly, alone in this.
Time crawls as Elias leans over, pressing a finger to one nostril and angling the other.
Save him!
But I'm frozen. Struck by horror and drowning in guilt, watching him inch closer.
SAVE HIM!
I bolt for the door, only to freeze once again at the sharp sound of his inhale. I'm too late, useless, staring as the stall door swings on its hinges, unveiling the full scene.
Elias stumbles back. "Ughhhh," he groans, squeezing his eyes shut. "Fuck..." He sniffs again, pinching his nostrils, until his eyes open.
And meet mine in the mirror.
I knew what to expect, but it's no less shocking. The redness in them, the veins crawling across the whiteness... it's brighter than the distinct shade of blue we share. As the high sets in, his pupils dilate, and hazy clouds roll over like a glassy film.
His jaw clenches. "Were you listening that whole time?"
