The next morning, I expected to find Graham sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast, or maybe watching a video in the living room. The downstairs was quiet, and no one was around. The sound of the lawn mower alerted me, and I glanced out the window. Graham was pushing our mower. My dad had to be behind this weird indoctrination.
It only took me another moment to find my dad perched on a folding chair in front of the garage. His chair was facing Graham, but next to him, lying on the ground, was a pile of dead pheasants. They were orders from his clients. He did hundreds of them yearly, but he never made his craft this public before. Nor had he ever stacked all his dead animals up like that! He’d work on one at a time, leaving the other carcasses in his deep freeze. He was clearly sending a message to Graham. This had to stop. I rolled my eyes.
He had completely lost his marbles.
The front door opened loudly, and Mom carried in too many grocery bags strung on her arms. I accepted a couple bags without asking. She shot me an appreciative look, but her lips were tightly pinched, hinting her nerves were still piqued. I knew better than to ask about Dad. Instead, I asked, “Have you heard from the social worker?”
“I was just on the phone with her.” Mom dropped the rest of the bags on the kitchen floor, then flexed her wrists a few times before remembering her train of thought. “Um, she isn’t having any luck. I told her Graham could stay another night, if needed. I don’t want to think about telling your dad what I agreed to.” Her face turned to the window, and her eyes followed Graham pushing our mower. “That poor kid.” Her lips folded in as she turned back to her groceries. In a forced change of subject, shepulled out a package of chicken. “I’m making chicken wings for dinner, so don’t get full of snacks.”
Chicken wings were Dad’s favorite. She made them every Sunday during football season, as she was one of those people who always used food to try to please people. The wings were evidently some sort of peace offering, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think they’d work. I did what I thought would be best for Graham and went upstairs to hide in my room until my mom called me to come back down.
Dinner was awkward, with a lot of silent chewing, and we got to eat at the regular kitchen table, so, other than the chicken we were eating, there weren’t any dead animals in the room. That was progress. When my mom started to clean the dishes, I went back upstairs, figuring that was best.
I had every intention of shutting off the light, climbing into bed, and staying there all night, like the daughter my parents wanted me to be. As I reached under my pillow, my hand met something hard. A book.
I pulled it out without even having to look at it, knowing it was our notebook. He had a message for me. He must have snuck it up here when he had excused himself to use the bathroom. I leaned over to my nightstand and clicked on my lamp. My eyes fled back to his book. It wasn’t a message, but a poem.
From out of the dark, in front of me is a stranger
Opposite the moon-lit sky.
Now he’s beside me, a shadow
Of which is my only friend.
Aside this stranger,
I don’t know what to do but stand.
My brow bent down, and I reread his words slower. Graham had to be lonely. At least I had Bre, but it didn’t seem like he had anyone. His words described his state of life beautifully.
I stretched out, laying on my stomach, and dug deep until I found something.
If you ever need a way to walk,
Come with me while I talk.
Together, we fight off the demons.
I don’t need excuses or reasons.
Together, we glue back the pieces
While I take all your shirts made of fleeces.
I will go to war with you.
I waited an hour after the house was completely quiet and sneaked back downstairs. With my heart pounding in my ribs, I tiptoed through the hall, not even turning on one light. When I made it into the living room, I stopped in the doorway. The streetlight created a soft beam through the picture window and landed on Graham’s resting cheek. The way he was lying, with his leg bent up in a ninety-degree angle, told me he wasn’t sleeping.
“Graham,” I whispered, risking a few steps forward so I could speak quietly. “I got our book.” He sat up but remained silent. Even though we were alone, I never took the seat next to him on the couch. A heaviness in my gut begged me to protect him. If by chance Dad came down to find me in here with the lights off…I couldn’t even imagine what my dad would do to Graham. Taking a spot on the floor, I slid the book across the floor toward him. “Did you write that today?”
“I wrote it last night.” He took it, immediately concealing it under his pillow without even glancing at it.
“I understand it.”
His chin lowered. Even in the darkened room, I knew he had lowered his lashes. “You’d better get back upstairs before you get in trouble.”
My heart pounded so loudly I wouldn’t have been surprised if my dad heard it upstairs and came barreling down. I chewed theside of my cheek, watching the doorway for shadows. There was nothing. “Do you want me to go back upstairs?”
