Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“You gotta sleep. End of,” he ordered, pulling on my arm until I followed him to the bed. “Come on, you sleep on one end. I’ll sleep on the other.”
I chuckled a little and crawled in between my sheets, glad when Alex chose to sleep on top of my comforter. I loved my brother, but I’d rather his bare chest wasn’t rubbing all over my legs while I slept.
“What’s going on with you?” he asked after we’d both gotten situated. “You broke up with her.”
“I didn’t want to,” I replied, reaching out to shut off the lamp next to my bed. “I just wasn’t down for having a kid.”
“How’d that work out for you?” Alex asked snarkily.
I huffed, rolling onto my back. “Yeah, I didn’t think that through.”
“What was going on in your head? I honestly don’t get it.”
“You remember when we were little—”
“Barely,” he cut in.
“You remember when Mami got pregnant?”
“Ah, yeah,” Alex said after a minute.
“You ever wonder who the dad was?”
“Not even once,” Alex muttered, stuffing his pillow under his neck so he could see me.
“I just remember her going into labor and not letting us call 911.”
“I don’t remember that,” Alex said, leaning up a little farther.
“You don’t?”
“Huh uh.”
“Fuck, I wish I didn’t.”
“The baby died, right?” Alex said, his voice almost a whisper.
“Yeah, man. She was crying and praying and trying to keep her voice down for so long, it felt like she was in labor for days.”
“I sort of remember that,” Alex said with a nod.
“You remember when she fucking bit me?”
“What?” Alex asked, his brows drawn together in disbelief.
“Pretty sure it was an accident. I don’t remember how it happened, but I remember her catching my arm. It hurt like hell.”
“Holy shit.”
“You were there when it happened. I remember you being there.”
“I must have blocked it out or something,” my brother mumbled, dropping his head back down.
“That whole night was so fucked up, and then the baby came and it was dead. All for nothing.” I closed my eyes and sighed, resting my head on my arms.
“She was different after that,” Alex said quietly, “I remember that much.”
“She completely fucking lost it,” I corrected, clenching my jaw against the memory of my mother sitting at the kitchen table staring at nothing.
She’d tried to get her shit together. There had been times that I’d thought things were back to normal, but it hadn’t ever lasted for long. She’d still taken care of Alex and me, still worked and provided for our family, still loved us, but it was like she wasn’t even there half the time. She’d just go off in her own head, quiet for hours while Alex and I tried to keep our voices down and whispered about why she was so sad.
As I got older, I sometimes wondered if she’d deliberately walked in front of the car that killed her.
“Is that why you’ve been stuck to Ellie like a burr on her ass?” Alex asked after a few minutes of silence. I’d thought he’d already fallen asleep.
“What?” I asked, leaning up to look at him. “I have?”
“Yeah, you’ve been watching her almost as much as you watch Ani—though I’m hoping for different reasons or Mike is going to be pissed.”
“I didn’t even notice I was doing it,” I said, feeling like an idiot.
“It’s cool, Bram. Everyone’s been keeping an eye on Ellie,” Alex replied.
“I didn’t ever want to be in that position,” I said after a little time had passed. I didn’t even know if Alex was still awake, but I kept talking anyway. “She lost it, man. Just completely checked out.”
“You didn’t want kids because you were afraid you’d end up like our mother?” Alex asked, startling me.
“No.” I swallowed hard and squeezed my eyes shut even though the room was already dark. “I didn’t want Ani to end up like her.”
“Apples and oranges, Abraham,” Alex said, reaching out to squeeze one of my feet, shaking it from side to side. “Nothing is going to happen to Arielle.”
A few minutes later, I knew he’d finally fallen asleep by the soft, rumbling snores coming from the other end of the bed. He was right—Ani and our mother weren’t anything alike. Comparing the two was stupid.
But it had made sense at the time. When Katie had Iris, I’d felt a little of the same fears, but they weren’t nearly as bad. Maybe it was because Katie was already a mother to the other four by the time Iris had come along. She’d sort of worked her way into that family, first just helping Rachel and Shane out and later becoming the kids’ sole caretaker after Rachel passed away and Shane had deployed. It had been a gradual thing, which made the entire scenario easier to accept.
I punched the pillow under my head, then froze, braced on one arm as someone started pounding on my front door.