All That's Bright and Gone (ARC)

by Eliza Nellums

  “I don’t know why you think this is a funny game, but it’s not, and you shouldn’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

  “It’s true,” I say. And then I think of a way I can prove it. “I bet you found a silver cigarette lighter on the basement stairs. With letters on it.”

  He snorts.

  “But … doesn’t that prove it?”

  “Someone has been telling you stories. Believe me, between me and the police, we searched every room. There was no lighter in that house. And I know for damn sure that it wasn’t a kindergartner I was shooting at—it was a bunch of thugs that broke in. Now, don’t you know it’s very rude to bother a grown-up who doesn’t want to deal with you?” He pulls on Roo’s leash, not looking at me.

  But … I know Teddy left that lighter there, because I don’t have it now. I don’t know why he didn’t find it.

  I need Mr. Rutledge to help even if he doesn’t believe me. “Please, I just need to ask you one thing, because I’m trying to find out what happened to my brother.”

  “Your brother?” says Mr. Rutledge. I don’t like how he sounds, so tight and hard.

  “Yes, see, my brother Theo was murdered, a long, long time ago, and if I figure out who killed him, my Mama can stop being so confused and come home from the hospital.”

  When he speaks, Mr. Rutledge’s voice is ice cold like a snow cone, pointy like a stick, ready to stab me. “What the hell is the matter with you? Are you stupid?”

  “I don’t … think so?”

  He pulls the leash, hard. “Then you’re crazy,” he says. “Your brother ain’t dead.”

  “Wha—what?” I don’t know why he’s saying such a stupid thing, but I hate it. I want to hit the words out of his mouth.

  “Maybe you just better go ask him,” he says, turning his back on me and walking away. “You go ask him why your mother is confused.” Then he jerks Roo back so that his front feet come off the ground, and they walk away fast.

  But I’m too stunned to follow him.

  He could just be lying. Grown-ups lie all the time, and I don’t have to believe them anymore.

  He must be lying.

  Right?

  * * *

  I walk home by myself. Uncle Donny is just finishing the dishes. He never even noticed that I left the sidewalk.

  Ask your brother, said Mr. Rutledge. Maybe he meant like—like in a prayer. A séance.

  I creep up the stairs with my feet on the outside of each step, right next to the railing, where it won’t make a creak, which is better than how Uncle Donny does it. I stop when I’m at the top step, right next to the last picture of Theo.

  He’s looking right at the camera, just like Ned Slater was in the picture hanging in Mr. Rutledge’s house.

  “Hey, Aoife,” says Uncle Donny. “Whatcha lookin’ at?” He came upstairs when I wasn’t looking. It’s funny that he’s a lot louder at night than he is during the day.

  “This picture of Theo,” I say, which is true.

  “I can see that,” says Uncle Donny. “What are you thinking about?”

  If Mr. Rutledge were telling the truth, then somewhere out in the world, Theo would have kept getting older. This wasn’t the last picture ever taken, just the last one we have hanging up. I look into my brother’s face and try to imagine him as a real person.

  I take a deep breath. “Uncle Donny … Theo is … Theo’s dead, right?”

  Somehow the question comes out sounding normal. It’s like I didn’t even say it, like I’m listening to someone else talk with my voice.

  “What?”

  “He’s dead. He died. Didn’t he?”

  Uncle Donny kneels down in front of me and puts his hand on my shoulders. It’s funny, because I’m on the top step and he’s on the landing, so he has to kneel really low to reach.

  “Aoife,” he says. “Did someone tell you that Theo is dead?”

  I think back, I really do, because I’m sure someone said it at one time. “Mama said that Theo … had to go away,” I say, and I’m afraid that I might start to cry now, but I don’t want to stop talking. “And everyone says that I shouldn’t ask questions because it will upset Mama, but Mama said Theo was gone to a faraway place, and I thought—I thought it was like Gramma Aoife?”

  “Oh, baby,” says Uncle Donny, and he pulls me into a tight hug. He puts his chin on top of my head, and it feels heavy but also good.

  “Nobody ever talks about Theo,” I say, blinking back my tears, “except Mama, but … Mama gets confused sometimes. But then Mr.—somebody told me that—that Theo isn’t dead. Is Theo not dead?”

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” says Uncle Donny. He keeps rock-rocking me, and I think he’s not going to tell me anything, just like nobody ever tells me anything. But then he starts talking again. “What happened with Theo is—well, it’s something that’s very hard for even grown-ups to understand, and I think that nobody knew exactly how to explain it to you. But that was our fault, even though it was really confusing; we should have tried to find a way that would have made sense to you.”

  “Is he … not dead?”

  “No, baby. He’s not dead.”

  Mr. Rutledge wasn’t lying. It doesn’t make any sense—it’s like saying that Sleeping Beauty is real, and I could poke her with my finger and see her asleep in the bed. I know that some things are real and some are just made-up. But I can’t believe Theo is alive.

  “Listen, I know this must all feel really strange right now, but as soon as your ma comes home, we’re all going to talk about it together, okay? And it will make a lot more sense.”

  But Mr. Rutledge said to ask my brother why Mama is confused. “I want to talk about it now,” I say.

  “Ah. Well, you see, your ma is the best one to explain this to you, and I really shouldn’t—I mean, I’m just an uncle, you know? I don’t want Siobhan to come home and find that I’ve, ah, said all the wrong things, and, uh, made things worse.”

  I don’t see how anything can be worse than me thinking my brother is dead. “Please?” I say. “It’s really important.”

  “Uh, well, you see, your—he—Theo has some special problems; he has an illness that makes him—it makes it hard for him to think right sometimes. And he’s living somewhere where they can help him with those problems, okay? A special place just for people like him.”

  But if Theo isn’t dead … when Mama said she was visiting Theo, I always thought she meant like the time we visited Gramma Aoife in the grassy field. But I guess she really was visiting Theo. She meant she was literally going to go see him, in real live person. And that means … that means I could do that too. Just like Mr. Rutledge said, I could go see him for real, and talk to him and get answers. I could find out the truth, and then if Mama is confused, I can explain it to her.

  “I want to go visit Theo,” I say.

  “Oooh. Yeah, see, that’s going to be a little bit of a problem,” says Uncle Donny, pulling back. He sits on the landing with his legs crossed, and I climb up the last step to sit next to him, looking up.

  “But I want to,” I say. “I want to go see if Theo is real and talk to him.”

  Uncle Donny lets out his breath in a burst.

  “Why haven’t I been able to see him all this time? Hasn’t he asked about me?”

  “Listen, Aoife. These are good questions you’re asking about Theo. I’m glad you’re asking them. But sometimes there are just—things you can’t really understand until you’re older, and this is one of these things. I promise, someday you’re going to get all the answers about your brother. But right now you may need to be a little patient, okay?”

  But this is the final piece of the mystery, and this is my chance to solve it.

  “Aoife, we’ve talked about a lot of things,” says Uncle Donny. “And I’m sorry that we didn’t understand what you were thinking about Theo or how you were feeling. I think we should just have a nice quiet day and we can talk about this again later, all right?”

&n
bsp; “I want to go visit Theo,” I say.

  Uncle Donny sighs. “Remember what I said about your ma? I don’t want us to do anything too hasty while your ma isn’t home, so we should wait.”

  “I have to go now,” I say. “Today. I want to talk to him right away.”

  “We couldn’t do that even if we wanted to, baby. Theo’s doctors have to give us permission before we can talk to Theo,” says Uncle Donny.

  “Can we ask them, please?”

  “Honey.” Uncle Donny kneels down again and looks into my eyes. “I know you want to see your brother after all this time. But we’re just going to have to wait, okay? I know it’s hard. Why don’t we go watch a movie downstairs, okay? Just the two of us.”

  I know Uncle Donny isn’t going to change his mind. He’s just like Mama, and once he makes a decision, that’s it. So I don’t try to argue with him. But I can be like Mama too, and I’ve made a decision as well. I’m going to talk to Theo no matter what anybody says, because that’s the only way to bring Mama home. This is the secret that Teddy was trying to tell me. I just know it.

  “I don’t feel like watching a movie,” I say. “Can I play outside?”

  “You want to go next door and play with Hannah?”

  “No. Hannah is mean,” I say. “We’re not friends anymore.”

  “Aha. Well, I don’t want you to leave the yard if you play outside. I’m going to be watching you from the kitchen, okay? I have eyes in the back of my head.”

  Now that Dr. Pearlman pointed it out, grown-ups really do lie all the time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I don’t have good Barbies like Hannah does, but I have two of them at least. Uncle Donny watches me from the hallway as I go into my room and pull the box out from under my bed. The Barbies aren’t wearing any clothes and their hair is tangled, and most of their accessories are missing. Father Paul gave me one of them from the box at church for behaving well in day school. She came dressed as a schoolteacher, but I lost her shoes.

  Uncle Donny goes downstairs, and the minute I hear him leave I tiptoe into Mama’s room. Just like before, I get the feeling that the room is waiting for Mama to come back, just like I am. But this time, I’m not looking for the rosary or The Illustrated Volume of the Saints. Instead I go to the side table where Mama’s phone is plugged in and charging. I take it, tiptoe back to the Barbies, and hide it underneath all the clothes. Then I carry the whole bin downstairs.

  Uncle Donny has cut up an apple and put out a jar of peanut butter for a snack, but I’m not hungry.

  “You didn’t eat any dinner,” says Uncle Donny. “Please eat at least a few slices.”

  So I do, but they don’t taste like anything. I swallow them anyway and then ask again if I can go outside.

  Uncle Donny seems sad, but he says okay. “Just until it gets dark. And remember, you have to stay in the yard,” he says.

  “I will,” I say.

  I take the box of Barbies and I sit on the back porch. Uncle Donny will be able to see me from the kitchen window but only if he’s standing at the sink, and I know he won’t stand at the sink the whole time.

  I take out both Barbies and put them on the sidewalk. Hannah likes to pretend that Barbies are real people and give them names and make up stories about them. But to me Barbies were never as much fun as Teddy.

  I don’t really play with them, I just lay out their clothes on the step with a space for each of the missing pieces, and then I brush Teacher Barbie’s hair.

  I hear a little mrow, and the cat from next door is rolling around on the hot cement in front of me. “Hello, kitty,” I say.

  The cat looks like it’s trying to scratch an itch between its shoulders with the crack in the pavement. Then it rolls over onto its front and comes to rub its face on the side of the Barbie bin until I pet its head. I’m glad we’re friends now.

  “Kitty, I have to do something naughty,” I tell it. She starts to purr and flops down so I can stroke the fur along her back.

  I look up and make sure Uncle Donny isn’t watching anymore. I can hear him whistling and I know he’s probably cleaning the kitchen, which is what he does when he’s upset. I know he would be angry with me if he knew what I was doing, but the most important thing is that I keep trying. That’s what I promised I would do.

  I turn my back to the window and take the phone out of the box. I know how to open Mama’s phone: 1113. Me plus Mama plus Theo equals three. The phone comes to life and I open the contacts, scrolling through the list. I already know who to call. There’s only one person left.

  The phone rings. Then it cuts off, and a gruff voice says, “Hello?”

  I don’t say anything at first because I’m scared.

  “Siobhan? That you, baby?”

  “It’s me. Aoife.”

  “Alfie? What are you calling me for on your mom’s phone?”

  “I need your help, Mac,” I whisper. If I’m loud, Uncle Donny will wonder who I’m talking to, and I don’t want him to come out and stop me.

  “What the hell are you talking about, kid? Is everything okay?”

  “I need to go see Theo, and Uncle Donny won’t let me.”

  “Ah, jeez.”

  Mac must have put the phone down or something, because I hear it clunk and clatter on the other end, and for a minute I think he’s going to hang up on me. But then I hear him breathing and I know he’s still there.

  “You said you were my dad,” I say, feeling brave just saying those words out loud. “If you’re really my dad, then you’ll help me, right? That’s what dads do. Isn’t it?”

  “I’ve been your father for less than a week; can’t you give me a freaking break?” Mac grumbles.

  I don’t think that’s how it works, but I don’t say anything.

  “Does your uncle say why he won’t take you?” he asks at last.

  “He says we should wait until Mama comes home and we can talk about it then. But I need to talk to Theo now, right away. Today.”

  “Your uncle’s right,” says Mac. “It makes more sense to wait until Siobhan gets back.”

  “But that isn’t going to be today or tomorrow or soon,” I say. Not unless I figure out the last secret. That’s what I can’t tell Mac, because he won’t understand. I forgot to keep my voice down for a second, and I look over my shoulder in case Uncle Donny heard me, but I don’t see him at the window, so it doesn’t seem like he did.

  Mac sighs. “Yeah, probably not.”

  “But if you’re my father and Uncle Donny’s just my uncle, then you get to decide what I can do, not him, right? That’s how it works, right?”

  “When did you get so smart?” says Mac.

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Well—yeah. Yeah, kiddo, that’s how it works.”

  “So you’ll help me?”

  Mac sighs. “I guess if this is the first favor you’ve ever asked me for, I can’t really say no, can I? It’s not like I’ve got a college fund for you or I’ll buy you a car or anything.”

  Lucky for me, I don’t want a car or a college fund. I just want to talk to Theo.

  “All right, tell you what. I’ll give your uncle a call and see what I can do. And if I don’t like what I hear, well, I’ve got a few cards up my sleeve that I could probably play. No promises though, okay? And it won’t be today, so get that idea out of your head.”

  “Thank you, Mac!” I say. Right after I say it, I wonder if I should have called him Dad, but the word sounds too funny in my mind. He’s just Mac, that’s all. I hope he doesn’t mind.

  “Yeah, yeah, now get off the phone. I’ve got stuff to do today, you know.”

  “Goodbye,” I say. As soon as Mac calls him, Uncle Donny is going to know that I went behind his back, but I don’t care.

  “See ya, Alfie.”

  The phone beeps and goes silent. I hide it back under the Barbie clothes and stand up, brushing off my shorts to go inside.

  I hear the pop of a screen door closing, and I turn aroun
d to see Hannah coming out of her house. Hannah and I are mad at each other, so I don’t say anything. I just look down at the doll box and pick it up without watching her walk across the yard, but I know that’s what she’s doing because I can hear her shoes on the grass. Plus, the neighbor kitty gets up and slinks away when she gets close.

  “Hey, Aoife,” she says, just as I’m turning around to go back inside.

  “Hey,” I say, still looking down.

  “Everybody’s talking about you. I heard that you ran away in the middle of the night.”

  Mama always says that Father Paul’s secretary does not know how to keep a secret. I guess she’s right.

  I know Hannah would want to hear all about Theo and Ned Slater, and what Uncle Donny told me. In fact, I’m pretty sure Hannah would enjoy the whole mystery way more than I do. But right now, it feels like it should be just for our family. I think I understand now why nobody wanted to talk about Theo—nobody knows what to say.

  So I don’t tell Hannah anything, at least, not for now. I keep it a secret, buried like a Saint Benedict medal.

  “I have to go inside,” I say.

  “I’m glad you’re all right,” Hannah says.

  That makes me feel good. It’s not really making me happy to stay mad at her anyway. I walk back over. “Hannah, I broke the apple candle,” I say. “Teddy stole it, and it got broken. Do you think your mom is going to be mad at me?”

  “Nobody cares about the apple candle, Aoife,” she says, seriously. “You could have gotten hit by a car, or an evil serial killer could have found you and murdered you! And the last thing I would have done was call your family crazy! You don’t know how freaked out everybody has been, just thinking about it.”

  “It’s all right,” I say, looking down. The truth is, I think my family actually is crazy. Even Uncle Donny walks in his sleep, and is a fruit according to Mac. Mama is locked in a hospital, and so’s Theo. And my best friend might have been a ghost.

  I hear the phone ring inside my house. I know I’m going to get into big trouble soon.

  “I’m glad you’re all right,” says Hannah. She puts her arms around me and gives me a hug. Usually we don’t hug, but right now it feels okay.