Where Demons Hide

by A. M. Brooks

  Buzz…buzz…buzz…buzz…

  “What the…?” My head shoots off my pillow, squinting at the clock by my bed, the red numbers read two a.m! Who was calling me? Fear and anxiety raced through my body; the last time I got a call this early—

  “Hello,” I answered the phone feeling my stomach turning and cold sweat started to break out over my brow.

  “Hey Blaisy, sorry if I woke you up.” Relief, then anger flash through my mind.

  “What do you want, Antonio?” I bit back. Yeah, I was hanging by a thread.

  “I deserve that. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much since… since Blake died,” he says. His voice laced with guilt.

  “No, you haven’t. You all left. You all left me.” I could hear my voice getting louder. My body shuddering with rage. I was ready to explode or cry. All I could hear was silence on the other end of the line.

  “Blaise.” His voice cracks. “You’re right, I did leave and you have every right to be mad. I’m sorry. It was just weird being there, ya know? Everywhere I went, I was like, ‘oh this is where Palmer and I went Fridays before the game.’ It was just hard, ya know?” he says, sounding like the broken boy he was when we first met.

  I bite my bottom lip to stop from crying. I never thought I’d hear that much emotion from Antonio. He usually was the laid back one in the group who just rolled with the punches. I only ever heard him get really worked up if it was about a hot chick or a bad game of Call of Duty. Maybe I never thought about how these guys felt losing Blake either.

  “Yeah, I know,” I whisper. “So, are you guys in Vegas then?”

  “Yup. That’s actually why I’m calling. Well, two reasons actually. Stone, Joey, and I will be back this week. Summer break is over and we raked in some cash.” He sounds pleased with himself.

  “Just you, Stone, and Joey?” I questioned. What the fuck about Seth?

  “Yeah, that’s the other reason I was calling. Stone was wondering if you’ve heard from Seth at all?” The uneasiness in his voice raises goosebumps up my arms and across the back of my neck.

  “Why does everyone keep assuming I’ve heard from Seth? I haven’t heard from him in over six months. He didn’t make it to the funeral, in case you don’t remember.” I was getting pissed. “I thought he was with you guys.”

  Again there was silence.

  “Toni.”

  “Yeah, sorry, um, no, he didn’t meet up with us. What do you mean everyone keeps assuming you’ve seen him?”

  “Sergeant Ramirez just asked me the same thing today. He said Seth called him and apparently he may be contacting me,” I tell him, totally confused with the situation. What was going on?

  “Oh, cool… well, I’ll let ya get back to sleep, Blaisy. See you later this week then?” He pauses, waiting for me. A small part of my heart leaps to life knowing they will be in town soon.

  “Yup, see ya,” I answer before hitting the end button and setting my phone back down. I lay back against my pillow and listen to the silence in the apartment. Any minute now she’ll come home, hang her keys, pour a drink, and then I’ll hear her bedroom door close. More silence. We had this routine down perfectly. I lived around her and she existed around me.

  Anger burned my chest. Parents were allowed time to be depressed when they lose a child. They deserve a chance to grieve and to mourn. It’s unnatural for a parent to lose a child while they are still alive. Our mom had been absent for so long, she didn’t deserve to act like she was grieving. She didn’t deserve to wallow in her own self-pity. If anything, she was to blame. Blake worked his ass off to help provide for us. Any money she made came and went as fast as the bottles in her liquor cabinet. I didn’t feel sorry for her. I didn’t feel sad for her. That was the real problem though… she was my mom, and I felt nothing for her.

  I decided right then I was definitely going to dinner at the Ramirez’s house tonight. Anything to be away from the silence seemed like a better choice. I more or less lived alone the way it was; the way it had been for years. She was home when she was in town. Being a stewardess kept her away a lot and Blake and I had never minded. Our lives had functioned just fine without her.

  I moved back in after the funeral to help her and because I could no longer afford the apartment Blake and I had subleased when he turned eighteen. We had gone up in scale and could afford it with both our jobs and occasional rent from whoever was crashing for a couple of days. On my own, I had to let the lease go. It about killed me to do it. I remembered the day Blake picked me up from school and drove me there. I thought he was kidding when he said he signed a lease. I thought I had died when he asked if I wanted to live with him instead of our mom.

  I’d give anything to be back in that bedroom listening to the sounds of Call of Duty echoing from the living room because the silence… the silence is too much.

  Three a.m. now… I roll over,

  hear the lock click,

  pull the covers up to my chin,

  she kicks off her shoes,

  I close my eyes,

  hear the clink of ice hitting her glass,

  I concentrate on breathing,

  hear as she walks down the hallway and her door closes.

  I fall back asleep.

  The next afternoon at four p.m., my shift ends. Another day of emptying ketchup bottles, dealing with heckling children, and dirty men asking for my number passed by quickly. I never heard from Antonio or the others, so I assume they will just arrive one day out of the blue. And, again, Seth never called. I was starting to feel like a dejected girlfriend for how often I was looking at my phone and I hated it.

  I punch out on my time card and tip the busboys generously. On the way to the Ramirez’s, I grab a bouquet of daisies, which I know Pricilla will like. It has been awhile since I visited. My stomach grumbled, clueing me in to the idea that I had made a good choice in accepting the dinner invite.

  The Ramirezs lived out of town on a private road. As I drove toward their property, I could see the horses running around their pen while a few grazed farther away. Katy and Nico were leaning on the fence when I pulled up but were soon launching themselves at my car.

  “Blaise, come see my new horsey.” Katy animatedly ushers me over to the pen. At ten years old, she was the spitting image of her mom. Her black hair is parted in pigtails, her shorts are dusty, and she has a few pieces of straw stuck to the fabric of her purple tank top. Once he sees me, Nico pretends to ignore me, as he normally does unless boy things were being discussed. He’s eight going on eighteen; broody and wild.

  “Isn’t she pretty?” Katy asks, grabbing my hand and pulling me closer to her new amber brown and white American Paint Horse. “I named her Aurora after the princess,” Katie explains.

  “Very nice,” I tell her. “It suits her well.”

  “Do you have a new horse too, Nico?” I ask while ruffling his hair.

  “Eww! You’re messing up my flow,” he rants back while frantically trying to push his heavy dark locks back in place. Katy shakes her head and I laugh at his attempts. Pricilla will have her hands full with him someday.

  “Hola, Blaise! Niños, it’s time to eat!” Pricilla ushers us all inside and I hand her the small bouquet before finding my seat.

  “Gracias, you did not have to,” she continues to talk as she cut the ends. She places the bouquet in a vase, setting it on the dinner table before pulling me into a hug.

  “I just wanted to thank you for having me for dinner.” I smile, pulling back to look at her. Pricilla is infectious that way. Even in the worst days after the accident, Pricilla was the only one who could get me to smile and forget just for a few moments. She is also the only reason we didn’t starve. Most of the community stopped by to pay their respects, but Pricilla brought food every day, rain or shine.

  “Where is Sarge?”

  “He took a call in his office, he’ll be out shortly. We can start; let’s say grace,” she announces, grabbing our hands. Same as always, I bowed my head and jo
ined only at the Amen.

  Dinner is amazing and fills that empty hole in my stomach. Pricilla’s spaghetti was my favorite and I could tell that the marinara was made from scratch. It easily brought back the tough-on-your-stomach and tight-in-your-chest memories. The boys and I had been frequent dinner guests at the Ramirez home growing up. Long before Katy and Nico were born. Long before Pricilla had her first horses to care for and Sarge was still just a patrol officer.

  “Sorry about that,” Sarge says as he slides into his chair at the end of the table. He had been absent for almost the whole meal.

  “Is everything alright, Tomas?” Pricilla asks as she hands him a Corona from the fridge.

  “Si, it will be. Everyone tell me about your day,” he replies, his eyes moving over everyone and avoiding me.

  Katy and Nico excitedly tell their dad about what the new horses were doing and how their neighbor Joel fell off the tube in the deep end at the community pool. Katy entertains us by re-enacting the whole story about how she had to help pull him to the shallow area because he couldn’t swim well; poor Joel.

  Pricilla goes next and tells us that the camp went well today. That this was the last week before the kids went back to school. Pricilla’s horse camp was how Blake and I had met and became friends with Seth and Joey. The horses and horseback riding were used for therapy. Blake and I had been sent to camp after a couple behavioral disturbances at school. Mostly, other kids trying to pick on Blake and for him fighting back with his hands. Then of course, I intervened to protect my big brother, not that I could do much because they were always older and bigger than me. By the fifth time, the school called social services who paid a visit to our mom. In order to do the minimum requirements, she sent us to therapy for behavior management as suggested to Pricilla’s camp.

  On our first day at camp, we met Seth Baird. He was a little anxious, brown-haired boy who was sent to live with his grandma after his father was arrested. PTSD was his diagnosis, but he was mostly just quiet. He was just two years older than me, but also stuck to Blake like I was. We were inseparable.

  The following summer, Joseph Williams became a member of camp Caballo Blanco. He was also a fighter and after some toeing the alpha line, he and Blake finally became friends. We were the fabulous four and inseparable. Each of us had a rough start and each of us had a guiding hand from Pricilla. We were fed and had a place to nap securely if needed. A person to talk to when going home felt like an unsafe option.

  Stone and Antonio Garcia are cousins and showed up at our school when I was in the eigth grade. Blake and Antonio had classes together in the tenth grade with Seth. Stone and Joey began ruling the upperclassmen in the eleventh grade. They walked a line between people fearing them or just in awe of them. I was grandfathered in because I was Blake’s sister, but they made me feel included. I was considered a special prize by the time I hit ninth grade and we all went to the same high school. I learned fast that the girls either wanted to be my friend to get to the guys or they hated me. Slut was my nickname for the first two days of high school. Immature and so wrong of them to assume that calling me names would gain them an in with the guys either. Boys aren’t catty like girls. They tell you how it is, and they didn’t care if the girl’s feelings got hurt. The girls learned really quick after that, calling me names got them exiled or hurt, like the time I punched Susie Anderson. After that, I became closer with Sarge.

  “And what about you, Blaise, how was your day?” he asks me while still avoiding looking at me.

  All four pairs of eyes swing to me. “It was fine. I worked, then got to hang out with you all.” I shrugged my shoulders. It felt normal to talk with people about my day. I was once again reminded of the silence waiting for me back at the duplex. Suddenly, the food felt too heavy in my stomach.

  “If you’re done, you should walk with me. There is something I want to talk more about with you,” Sarge said. He was already standing up and moving away from the table.

  “Uh, sure.” I scrambled to follow him out onto the front steps. We started walking toward the horse pen. From inside the house, I can hear Nico and Katie running upstairs to watch television before bed, and Pricilla clearing the dishes.

  By now, the sun had cleared the horizon. The sky was filled with stars, which were easier to see out here away from the city lights. The slight breeze played with my long hair. I remember Blake telling me, after we lost our dog, that all the stars were people and animals in heaven that we love. A quick look up to the sky causes my breath to catch, and my gaze to become watery. I want to imagine my brother as every star so that he is everywhere. I don’t want to be alone.

  “It’s about Blake, Blaise,” Sarge says suddenly, his voice gruff and hesitant. As if what he is about to say has been weighing on him. My eyes immediately snap to his face. For the first time I notice how preoccupied he looks. I can see the purple smudges under his eyes, a look of concern staring back at me. I don’t say anything and wait for him to continue.

  “Look, there is some information that is being looked at about the crash. We had our ends tied up here, but there are some higher-ups in Vegas that want the case still open,” he says, watching me, waiting for my reaction.

  I keep my face masked and wiped of emotion. I can’t form a sentence anyway. Blake’s case is still open. The words cause my chest to tighten and my heart pumps so hard and fast I can feel my pulse trying to jump out of my body.

  “I don’t understand,” I finally say, my tongue darting out to lick my lips. This information doesn’t make sense. “He flipped his car driving too fast like he always did. Like I always asked him not to,” I explain to Sarge, my brain still trying to process. “He didn’t have control. He wasn’t invincible. He wasn’t made of steel. How can any of that need to stay open for some higher up asshat to look at?”

  “I don’t know, Blaise.” Sarge looks down at the ground, his large hand resting on the back of his neck. I instantly felt bad about my outburst yet Sarge didn’t seem as stunned as I thought he would be. He expected I’d act like this. I knew I sounded angry. I was angry at my dead brother. Angry that he left me for a few thrills of driving over the speed limit.

  “So what does this mean? He’s buried, we had a funeral. He died six months ago.”

  “I know. I’m sorry to have to be telling you this right now,” he replies, running his hands over his buzz cut. “Apparently they are sending someone down here to talk with you more about this. That’s who I was on the phone with this evening. I’m supposed to tell you to listen for the Irish,” he says, slinging his arms over the top of the fence.

  I pause. “What the fuck! Is this a joke? My brother dies and his case is remaining open so the Irish can talk to me.” I can hear my voice getting louder and I can’t seem to control it. I see Sarge’s eyes dart to the screen door where Pricilla is watching us. My hands shake, my chest tightens, and my knees want to give way. I can’t breathe and every thought is painful. What was happening? Nothing has been normal, but at least my life was settling into a routine again. I could feel the cold start to work its way back in, blackness was edging around my vision.

  “I’m sorry, Blaise,” Sarge says, pulling me into his side and holding me together. The panic inside threatens to claw its way out. Sarge rubs my arm soothingly. “This is out of my jurisdiction for now,” he whispers. “We’re here though. When you know more and need to talk, you can always come here, okay?”

  Fuck this. My life has been turned upside down. Friends have bailed for the summer or for college, and my mom is a living nightmare lost in her own problems.

  “Yeah, okay,” I say, yanking myself from his embrace and walking fast to my car. I rub my hands up and down my jeans for warmth. I get in and slam down on the accelerator, sending a cloud of dust into the air behind me.

  Sarge watches my car leave the driveway. Another quick glance in my rearview mirror, I can see Pricilla watching from the front porch. It’s not until I’m a few yards down the road that I crank Lim
p Bizkit’s “Rollin’” as I roll my window down and suck in huge gulps of fresh air. Everyone has lost their damn minds. The cold was back, settling into my chest and squeezing around my heart again. Fuck, Blake.

  I sped home, grateful that I don’t meet another car until I turned into the parking lot. I say a quick thanks to the cosmos that my mom will not be here tonight. She has to jet set back to the Midwest. I would be alone and all I wanted was to escape. I needed to run. I grabbed my old sneakers and some earbuds before I take off.

  I push my muscles to exhaustion in order to feel the pain in my ribs as I breathe harder. Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you blared through my ears until I can’t hear the thoughts in my head; only the pounding of the rock music and my own breathing. I need it this way. No noise, just the miles under my feet as I push harder. Each slap of my feet against the pavement sending vibrations up my legs. It had been months since I last ran. It felt like forever since I was a senior, in my blissed-out mind thinking about graduating and spending the summer with my brothers in Vegas. Track was my passion that Blake also enjoyed. As soon as Mom left on Sunday mornings, we were running around town, pushing each other to beat our previous times. God, I fucking missed those days.

  By the time I got back, my knees were weak, and I shuddered from the mixture of my damp clothes and the slight arid breeze. It was one a.m. Nothing good happens after midnight, Blake used to say. I fell on my bed, just listening to the silence and the fan turning above me. I wanted to leave. I wasn’t supposed to be back here of all places. Vegas then college, that was what we had been talking about, planning for. We didn’t have a lot of money, but Blake promised we could cover it.

  “I have it taken care of, Blaise. Trust me,” he said, pulling on the ends of my braided hair. I did trust him. I let my hopes get high and my dreams big.

  The little savings I did have stashed away I ended up using to pay for the funeral. After Blake died, I lost all desire to continue our plan. It wasn’t the same, and I was scared to do it without him. I had no one backing me in my corner and I felt trapped in the life I had created over the past five months. Honestly, I didn’t even think I could leave the place where I grew up with my brother. That was the sad, pathetic truth. I slam my eyes closed against the single tear that leaks down my cheek.