She forces a tight smile, seeming many years older than the last time he saw her. “Sorry, it’s been a long week. Dead junkies bring too much bureaucracy.”
He shivers, wondering if she said that as a way to pick on him.
“How was your drive? You look exhausted.”
“Yeah, I’m beat. Hmm, thank you for doing this.”
“My lovely sister didn’t leave me much choice, but you’re old enough to be decent company. Perhaps.”
They hit the road as the rain gets stronger. Within minutes, they reach the heart of town, though it’s a very small heart. His aunt points out anything worth mentioning, and he asks her to show him the library. His face falls at the sight of the small one-story structure. “That’s it?”
“Seems big enough to me.”
In less than ten minutes, they’re done going over every noteworthy place around Van Buren. “It’s so quiet around here,” he says.
“Peace and quiet aren’t something to complain about.”
He wasn’t complaining, since he sees himself getting used to a more peaceful environment. He also noticeshow clean the streets are, without any shitty graffiti like in Kansas City. If there are homeless people around, he can’t see them.
His aunt has a simple, two-story house on Justin Avenue. “You hungry?” she asks as they enter.
“I can eat something light, but then I’m gonna call it a night. I’m like a zombie.”
“From lack of sleep, right?” She gives him a stern look. He’s reminded that his new landlord is a cop who has heard all about his drug issues.
“From lack of sleep, yes.” He looks around, surprised to find old photos of him on the wall. He didn’t like to smile as a child, making him seem sad in most of his childhood photos. “Didn’t know you had these.”
“It was either these or cats, and I’m no cat lady.” She holds his chin and tilts his head. “What happened to your face? No bullshit.”
“A guy I had history with decided I was too pretty.”
“Well, you are too pretty, but I hope you at least won that fight.”
Owen shivers. He hasn’t yet come to terms with what happened, but it is bound to hit him soon. “I guess I won.”
“Good. Are you still queer?”
“Aunt Sheryl!”
“Well, are you?”
“Yeah, they haven’t found a cure yet.”
She sighs. “You won’t find much ass action aroundhere. We do have another queer in town, but you better keep away from him if you know what’s good for you.”
I’m too tired for this shit.“So, what’s for dinner?”
*
He spends most of the following day inside due to the heavy rain. He still has the book he brought with him, so he can wait another day before visiting the small library. His aunt told him she’d be having friends from work coming over in the evening, which sounded like his chance to check out what this town has to offer after the sun goes down. There must be at least one bar worth visiting.
He takes a long, warm shower, and as he stands under the stream, a vivid image of Lee pops into his head. He looks around him, half-expecting to find Lee’s corpse with him in the bathtub. His stomach swirls. He steps out of the bathtub and crouches in front of the toilet a second before puke gushes from his mouth. It feels like there’s something rotten inside him that demands to crawl out. He hopes that his guilt will leave his body along with the puke, but he’s doubtful. Strangely, he feels relieved. He doesn’t want to be the kind of man who can be unaffected after killing someone. He had no love or respect for Lee, but he never wanted blood on his hands.
He pushes himself up from the floor when he hearspeople entering the house on the ground floor. He flushes the toilet, then dries himself and brushes his teeth. He combs his long, dark hair, which seems striking against his pale skin and blue eyes. He tilts his head to have a better view of the bruise on the side of his face, and strangely, he likes it. It adds something rough to his delicate features, making him seem less fragile.
He gets dressed and steps into the hallway. Before he can reach the stairs, he catches someone downstairs saying, “You couldn’t get anything more out of him?”
“No, but I could tell he was hiding something.”
