David rubbed at his patched-up knee, fixing Paul with a look that hung in the air long after the words were spent. The silence between them stretched & twisted like a cigarette burn on a car seat: ugly, insistent, impossible to ignore. He let the quiet do its job, gnawing holes in the armor of bravado until something real came through.
He didn’t like thinking about Sonya either. There were years between what happened to Paul & now, & still the whole thing clung to this place like mold. Back in the days before afterlife & all this bullshit, David remembered Sonya as a fixture in their little group — a glimmer of cool on cool, another mouthy freak the world couldn’t quite grind down. He didn’t have anything against her, but he sure as hell didn’t trust the memories she left in her wake. Not when it came to his brother.
David flicked an invisible speck of lint from his glove & cleared his throat. ❝ You know what your problem is, man ? ❞ His tone stayed light, but his gaze was a live wire. ❝ You want shit to be easy. Life’s not easy, not for us. Never was, never will be. ❞
He rose, stretched, & wandered to cave opening, overlooking the salty sea. In the distance, Santa Carla festered in neon & laughter, the surf audible even up here — still the best white noise on earth for drowning things out. He’d spent years perfecting the art.
❝ You said Tamara’s not the one ? Maybe that’s what you want — somebody who’s wrong for you, so you can keep playing the sad bastard. ❞ That last part landed heavier than he’d meant. He didn’t apologize. He kept his gaze on the surf, hands jammed in his pockets. Maybe he saw something of himself in Paul, something he’d never wanted to dig up. He felt the itch behind his eyes, sharp as lemon juice. David remembered what it was to be addicted — to people, to pain. Different flavors, same goddamn craving.
❝ She thought you were dead, & you were. I’m sure at the time you coming back was something she didn’t think possible. ❞ David rubbed at the corner of his jaw, feeling the faint grind of bone scar tissue under his fingertips. ❝ So give her a break, alright ? You don’t get to be pissed that she moved on with a guy who’s actually alive. ❞ David glanced back at the hunched figure on the couch, exhaling. He knew the look Paul wore. It crawled up on a man when all the other voices shut up, whispering that maybe everyone else had the right of it. That was the real slow death.
❝ I mean, look at us. ❞ He gestured back into the space, the off-brand couches, the buckets catching leaks. ❝ We’re not exactly poster children for emotional wellness. You keep waiting for a woman to fix your insides, you’re gonna be waiting forever. ❞
He’d said his piece, but the words didn’t do much for him. David watched the coastline rip itself apart, fog rolling in from the mouth of the bay. Some kid had probably drown themselves down there, or maybe it was merely the bonfires & cheap beer making the haze.
❝ If you want my opinion, she got herself into a mess with that disc jockey. Then by the time you come back to see it with your own eyes… ❞ He gave pause for a brief moment. ❝ Maybe she was afraid of you judging her for her choices. So just like you she kept quiet until her wolf came along. ❞ David let his hand drop to his side, palm scraping against the stone wall next to him.
