A year after I died, my old man got a phone call on our landline, surprising me enough to make me curious. I can count on one hand how many times it rang while I was still breathing. The call was from Lee Danvers, sheriff of Devil’s Nest since his father and brother were gone, saying there’d been an incident with Mattie. Lee said Elias was her only next of kin, so he was just calling to let him know she had murdered his brother,Rustin, in cold blood. When they went to arrest her, she resisted, resulting in her death. My pop seemed more relieved than grief-stricken. Mattie’s death made him the only Gibson still walking this Earth—well, the only one with a pulse, at least. I figured he’d shed at least a tear or two, but he only thanked Lee and mumbled, “Maybe we’ll be left the fuck alone now.” After that call, his drinking and rambling only increased. The ghost inside him took up permanent residence to haunt him better than I could ever hope.
Even after we left Devil’s Nest, Mattie never strayed far from my mind. Just before our departure from that hellish town, my uncle was found dead in the Blackwater River. My aunt, Pearl, was presumed dead as well in a possible murder/suicide. Mattie and I were both technically adults by then, allowed to make our way out in the world, but we remained trapped in our own ways. Her parents were gone, but she spent a lifetime being sheltered by her mother. She had no life experience outside their cabin, so she stayed behind. Last I knew, before Sheriff Lee’s call, she was doing all right.
I went back to visit a few years after Pop and I left, stopping by the roadhouse I heard she’d been working at. She hadn’t answered any of my texts, so I was determined to see her in person. The owner, Wiley, told me Mattie wasn’t working that day, but he poured me a few rounds and gave me what little he knew about her. He said she was no social butterfly, but she showed up to work and didn’t cause any trouble with the customers. That was good enough for him, so it should be for me as well. She’d even gotten close enough to one of the other women working there who he might consider them friends. My visit surprised him, though. Mattie had never mentioned me—or any other family—so as far as he knew, her relatives were dead and gone.
Wiley couldn’t say where she was living. He didn’t have an address and had no reason to ask. I reached a dead end, not remembering how to make my way back to the Gibson cabin. After I sobered up a bit, I thanked him and left. I didn’t see much point in searching for someone who didn’t want to be found. Mattie had my number if she needed it, but she never ended up getting the chance to use it.
Memories are strange, the way they come and go without warning. Maybe I’ve just repressed a lot of shit, so it takes the first opportunity it can to bubble up into my consciousness. Either way, recalling my childhood never gives me the warm, fuzzy feeling it seems to give other people. Even Jace managed to recall our time as children fondly. There’s nothing for me to reflect on positively, though, only a heaviness permeating my present. The more I see under Jace’s bed, the stronger my desire is to go back to my old man’s home and burn the fucking thing down. My need to know why Jace is looking through all this to begin with is my sole motivation to continue sifting through the box’s contents. There must be a reason she’s so eager to unravel the threads of our past. If walking through the broken glass of my childhood is what I need to do, I’ll gladly slice myself open for her.
Obsession pushes me onward, embracing the strangeness of the need to solve the sudden mystery surrounding her—one I didn’t see while we were together. Her view on life was always so simple compared to mine. When I was still breathing, I never put enough energy into our relationship. I know that now, but back then, I saw no point, worrying I’d eventually become my father and fuck it all up anyway. I kept Jace, kept everyone, at arm’s length to keep from crushing them with my family’s secrets. The grief in her eyes now, though, matches my own. Those sad, honey-colored orbs pierce through me, cutting away every doubt I had before.
After a few tries, I slide the photo of Mattie and me aside, revealing another picture. Confusion clouds my thoughts, leading to a gut-wrenching realization. My eyes lock onto a piece of paper, four photos taped next to a list of names. The left-side edge is torn, like it’s been ripped from a notebook. My face stares back at me along with the faces of Mattie, our cousin Roux…and Jace. There’s large red exes marked through my face and Mattie’s. The date and our ages at the time of our deaths are scrawled beneath our names. Strange enough, but what fills me with dread is the red circle around Jace’s face. I shove the paper as far back as I can manage, hoping Jace won’t discover it.
What the fuck have I found?
13
CYRUS
10 YEARS AGO
The summer air is thick, sticking to my skin and leaving it uncomfortably damp. Even with the intense humidity, it’s still less stuffy outside than being crammed inside the small farmhouse. Every person in Deadwood must be here to celebrate one of our own finally heading off to college in the ‘big city’. Our families only moved to this holler a year ago, but the Landrys certainly integrated much better than my pop and I did. Even if they hadn’t, no one in these parts needs much of an excuse to throw a party.
The ruckus from inside the house spills out onto the porch each time someone opens the door, interrupting my solitude. I’m about to move the big blue coolers inside just to keep from being annoyed each time someone steps out to retrieve a beer. Another stranger pops out like clockwork, and I groan, rubbing a hand through my hair and ashing my cigarette over the porch railing.
“You could pretend to enjoy yourself,” a small voice criticizes me from around the corner of the porch. Roux’s flames ofauburn hair appear as she peeks over the railing, grinning wickedly. My little cousin has always been the most mischievous of the three of us. Her mom was the youngest of her sisters, less inclined to the reclusive habits of the others. Roux’s hands cradle a red plastic cup, trying to keep me from seeing inside it.
“Pour that out,” I growl, reaching down to snatch it. I crack a smile, holding the cup to my lips. “Actually, don’t waste it. I’ll drink it.”
Roux puffs out her bottom lip, giving a little huff and flipping her hair over her shoulder. “It tastes like shit anyway. I don’t know how y’all drink that stuff.”
“Taste a lot of shit, Roux?” I joke, raising an eyebrow and chuckling as her nose crinkles at me. “What’re you in now? Middle school?”
“Seventh grade,” she clarifies, placing her hands on her hips. I roll my eyes and swirl the contents of the cup. The scent of alcohol stings my nose as I take another sip.
“You’ll learn to like it later. Just don’t enjoy it too much, or you’ll turn intohim.” I nod inside, where my old man is laughing too loudly at a joke that probably wasn’t funny to begin with. My nostrils flare as I stare at him a little too long.
She narrows her eyes, squinting like she’s searching for something deeper in my words, before she rolls them dramatically. “Whatever. Why are you out here anyway? Shouldn’t you be inside with the other adults?” Her hands grip the porch railing. She presses her face between them, squishing her cheeks together as she blinks at me.
“I don’t really care much for parties,” I laugh, pushing her back by the tip of her nose. “I’m just here to make the old man happy. Once he’s had another beer or two, I’ll sneak off. What’re you doin’ out here? Besides gettin’ into trouble.”
“It’s too loud in there,” Roux says matter-of-factly, leaning back from the railing. “Besides, I’m the youngest one here.Jace doesn’t exactly play with dolls anymore. She’s goin’ off to college, and I’m gonna go too, once I’m old enough.”
“You still play with dolls?” I snort, choking on my drink as I move away from Roux swatting at me. “Yeah, Jace is gettin’ out of here. Good for her.” I pull another cigarette out of the chest pocket of my flannel shirt. Roux fakes a sputtering, hacking cough before I even light the thing, and I sigh. The corner of my mouth pulls into a grin. I wave the cigarette above her head, taunting her a little before putting it away again.
Roux’s face hardens. She eyes me for a moment, like she’s rolling her next words around her mouth. “You say goodbye yet?” Her line-of-sight moves to the window behind me, and I turn my head to follow it. Jace’s wide brown eyes stare back, and a lump lodges in my throat. She gives me a slight grin, her eyes watering before she breaks our connection.
My cousin suddenly appears next to me, and I jump, making her cackle loudly. She holds her small belly as she howls, “You shoulda seen your face! Cyrus is inlove!”
“Get outta here, Roux,” I groan, tossing the empty cup in her direction. “Before I tell your mama what you had in that cup!”
Her laughter cuts off abruptly, and she frowns. “You wouldn’t.”
“Let me mope in peace.” I bend to pick up the cup, tossing it into the trash. Leaning against the house, I bring the cigarette out once more, lighting it this time. Roux waves one hand in front of her face and plugs her nose with the other.
“Can I ask you something?” she ponders, her voice becoming serious.
“You just did, but sure.” I take a deep inhale then exhale a circle of smoke towards the sky. She frowns without laughing at my joke.
