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I slide down until my back hits the wall and I try to catch my breath. My throat burns with acid.
Times like this, with my defenses down, the bad memories hit me hard. The trailer park, the hunger, the cold, the misery. Mom who never even looked at me. Dad who was never there except to beat the shit out of me and Ocean. The sadness and dejection. The teasing of the other kids about our filthy, ratty clothes and lack of shoes.
The anger. Is that where it’s coming from? Is it the flip side of sorrow?
My cell phone is ringing, and I make myself get up and rinse my mouth, then splash cold water on my face until I’m shivering.
Mostly awake, the dream shoved as deep in my mind as it can possibly go, I trudge back to my bedroom and pick up my phone from the nightstand.
“R, hey.”
My brother. Figures, after the disjointed message I sent him last night. “Hey, Shun.”
“Oh, man, did I wake you up?”
Guess my voice is more of a croak this morning. Puking can’t have helped. “Nah, I was awake.”
“That text you sent me…”
I sink down on the bed and rub at the ache spiking behind my eyes. “Yeah, about that. We need to talk.”
“About a Simon? That a friend of yours?”
Fuck, what did I write in that text? Granted, I was drunk by then, but still. “We should talk about Simon, yeah. We also need to talk about our parents.”
“Our parents.” His voice drops an octave. “What about them?”
“Thing is, Dad contacted me, and he wants—”
“The hell you say? When?”
Shit. “A couple of weeks ago. He—”
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“Jesus Christ, R. When were you gonna tell me about it? What did he say? Don’t let that guy come near you.”
Um, too late. “I met him last night. He wanted—”
“You met him? Where? Why?”
“Fucking shit, Shun, can I finish one fucking sentence?”
Hell.
We’re both breathing hard by now, and the headache is pounding against the inside of my skull like a sledgehammer.
“Fine,” he says, voice clipped. “Talk.”
Looks like I managed to piss off all the men in my life, from dad to Ocean to Jason—and no idea why it should matter now, or why I put these men side by side in my thoughts, as if they have anything in common.
Dad is a fucking bastard.
Ocean is my caring, good older brother.
And Jason… I don’t know where I stand with him. From the start, he was a wild card, and now, after everything that’s gone down, the picture is even murkier than before.
I need to talk to Jesse Lee. He’s known the guy for a long time. But Jesse Lee is in Chicago this week, Micah with him, meeting up with Soul Stain and preparing the upcoming event.
