“Never.” I kiss the tip of her nose, then each of her cheeks, her forehead, ending on her lips.
It seems to settle her enough so she doesn’t argue as I lock the belt in place on her waist and lift off her. Taking the shoelace from one of my boots, I thread the key through it then tie it around my neck with four knots. The fibers screech as I pull each side to make sure it’s tight and walk to the window to collect my lighter. Delilah watches me bring the flame to the tied end of the lace while I find comfort in the heat as I hold the knot to the flame. Once the plastic in the fibers have melted together, I roll the lace between my thumb and forefinger so no one can remove it.
My t-shirt is still on the ledge, but I leave it so she has something to wear now it’s dry. My pants are in the bathroom, so I grab them. I have one leg inside when Lennox walks back into the room with a duffel bag. He gently sits at the end of the bed while Delilah covers her entire body from the neck down. Gesturing to the bag he says, “You can change when we leave.”
“Like that creepy bitch will let me,” she mumbles back.
“Do you know I was raised in this house?” he asks.
“How unfortunate for you.”
I want them to get along because, in his own way, Lennox has tried to be there for me. He’s the only person who would visitme. Even now, he’s trying to help me as he unzips the bag and hands me a hoodie when I leave the bathroom.
“Every family has their secrets, little doe,” he says to Delilah. “If you find the walls whispering ours once you’re alone, take heed of their warnings.”
She warms slightly even though she hisses, “Everyone in this fucking family is creepy.” But she holds her hand out for the bag, and he passes her it with a small smile on his face. “Will you keep him safe?”
“With my life.” He nods.
Once I’m dressed, he gestures to the door and looks down at my one unlaced boot. He stops me from walking ahead as he removes the string from my hoodie before lowering to his haunches and threading the string through the eyelets in my boot. I don’t know what prompts my question, but I still ask, “Do you have kids?”
He loops the strings, tying them together as he softly whispers, “Reflections don’t have children.”
I follow him when he’s done, half intrigued, half saddened for him. I remember the loneliness of living in Asher’s shadow. That was in the “normal” world, not this fucked up one.
Lennox’s entire demeanor changes as we go downstairs into the lounge where Helene is sitting with Delilah’s grandparents. He’s even less emotional than usual, robotic as he says, “Mother, we are leaving.”
She sets her gold-rimmed teacup on the saucer then on a coaster on the coffee table before she walks over to us. Ignoring her son, she stops in front of me, assessing me from head to toe. “Enjoy what will become yours one day.”
There’s not even a glance in Lennox’s direction as she turns to go back to her guests. He doesn’t expect it either because he’s already walking away and waits beside the front door for me. Psychologists would quit the field if they studied this family.
I wait until we’re in his car to interrogate him. “How come she doesn’t talk to you?”
“I’m a reflection.” He drives down the steep hill leading away from the house.
“So she’s never spoken to you?”
He’s lying to me because he adjusts the collar of his shirt as we approach the gates—which open automatically—unlike my uncle who’s closed off.
“What could you have done to piss her off? She keeps dead bodies lying around her house, for fuck’s sake.”
There’s a small chuckle. An actual fucking chuckle as he drives through the dark, unlit roads without turning his high beam on.
“You met my father?” There’s more softness in his features than when he speaks about his mother. “He would play with us before the waves took away the garden.”
“Why doesn’t Helene talk to you?”
“I angered her.”
I swear to fuck he’s annoying. I push back in my seat, exasperated with his shit. “Lennox, can you for once just tell me something without me trying to work out the correct combination of words to get an answer?”
He slows down significantly as he takes a random turn through a row of empty houses until we’re on another empty road like time has stood still as he turns on the high beam. Old shop fronts with dusty windows, a discarded bike on a patch of weeds. All the brambles have grown over it, like they’re eating it and pulling it into the earth.
We keep crawling forward until we reach what I assume was a home. All the windows have been blown out, scorch marks on the brick, but my uncle stares at it with longing as he softly says, “It’s very rare a man is born wanting to be what he becomes.Human nature makes us want. Things, people, everything which doesn’t belong to us.”
I look at him.
“The island used to be inhabited. Everyone living here co-existed. They accepted the things our family did. In turn, they were provided everything they could possibly want. After all, any man would trade one child to save his others.”
