I want to throw the phone across the room, but I don’t. The rage dies, and that ominous sense of calm envelops me.
I hand the phone back to Elias and dial the number I was going to call before the speech.
“Lars. I need everything you can find on the doctors treating Felix, and I need it now.”
Felix
I see the backseat of a car. An earthy smell mixes with something minty. I want to sit up, but my arms won’t move, and I’m weak. My vision’s blurry, and it’s only getting blurrier.
No. It’s something else—the texture of the seat moves in waves. My eyes trail to the floor, and the fibers of the carpet sway like a cornfield in the wind.
My head pounds and my side hurts terribly, but I manage to speak. “Where–are we going?”
“Taking a little trip to the cabin.” The sound of my father’s voice makes me ill, but it also motivates me to sit up. I have to fight this.
“Going fishing?” I ask my putrid, vile toad of a father.
I can see that Robert is driving, and my father sits in the front. We’re in a car with tinted windows. I look out and see the soaking wet street. My eyes fixate on it, and, soon, it turns to ice. I exhale and see my breath. The car is frigid—even this fucking straitjacket isn’t keeping me warm.
Robert answers the phone, but his words are indecipherable. I’m too busy watching the ice on the street grow into hand-shaped shards that reach for the car.
“Don’t look at it.”
My heart leaps into my throat, and I turn to see my mother sitting right beside me. She puts a finger to her lips.
“The police are finished searching the house on Mulberry Street,” Robert says. They wanted to let you know they think Felix has been there.”
Father huffs a laugh, then asks, “And the pictures are gone?”
“Put them in the incinerator right before the press conference.”
“Good.” My father’s hand rests on Robert’s leg, then slides up. Robert stares at Father with a loving look in his eyes, and I nearly combust.
“Are you kidding me?” I scream. “You’re fuckingRobert?”
Father doesn’t even look at me. “Go back to sleep, Felix.”
I want to say something to my mother, but she’s gone.Did she know?
“What the hell is all of this for? Why not let Mother leave if you’re gay?”
“I’m not gay,” Father responds with a gravelly voice.
It’s hard to continue because the car is melting, the interior dripping like wax on a candle. Whatever they gave me is destroying my brain, but my anger is too strong not to continue. “You’re fucking your chief of staff! WHO IS A MAN! You might not be gay, but you’re bi or queer or—”
Father moves like lightning, turning around and reaching for the straitjacket to pull me closer. “Don’t you ever say that again. I’m not a faggot, like you. I don’t flounce about picking roses and dancing in my mother’s high heels.”
“You’re just like me, except I know who I am and embrace it. I’m not a coward like you!” I bark out a laugh and see the sound waves ripple through the car. I start screaming, cackling at the shapes my voice makes.
Father pushes me against the seat, and I laugh when the huff I make turns into a plume of smoke.
I change the speed of my speaking because it changes the shapes.
“Myyyyyyy daaaaaaaad iiiiiiiiisssssssssss gaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyeeeeeee eeeeeeee eeeeeee hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe.”
“Shut your mouth, Felix!”
“Quuuuuueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr.”
