by J. J. McAvoy
“It’s your fault. If your sister trips, it’s your fault. If your brother gets a paper cut, it’s your fault. If the sky falls and harms anyone within this family as it crashes down, it is your fault. That is what it means to be family!” I whispered to him. “Remember when Father first said that to you…he almost killed you because I decided to go over to a friend’s house and you didn’t realize I’d left. It wasn’t your fault. And yet you stood there and never once pointed out it was me who snuck out. It pissed me off. Anything I did you’d get blamed and you just told me not to be stupid but never once complained. Ugh. It was like living with a robot. The day we were at school…and the shots rang out, I didn’t even see you outside, but after the first bullet you’d already had both Dona and me, covering us with your body under the table. Why isn’t he scared? How does he know what to do?”
I rubbed my chest as the pain came back. I wasn’t hurt. I wasn’t sick. But I was in pain. “This is how you knew, right? This…” I bit my lip, inhaling, which hurt, and exhaling hurt worse. “This pain, that’s how you knew. It’s why you never blamed me, why you hovered, even when I came here. Don’t think I’m dumb enough to not notice your moles. I’m sure you even paid off people in the hospital. I told myself to ignore it and you. And I could because I never felt this. You’ve never been the one down before. In fact, have you even gotten the flu, you freak?” I snickered bitterly, again swallowing the lump. “You’ve scared me, you know. I’m never going to get this out of my mind. If Father were alive, would he curse me for this?” I didn’t even need to ask.
He would.
And I should too, I thought, drinking the juice in my hand.
“Sorry for taking so long.”
Ivy walked in wearing a long loose-fitting black dress…she purposely didn’t want anything too tight as her body had just…
“How is he—”
“Were you shot?” I pushed myself off the ground, but I had to brace myself against the wall.
“Careful!” She moved to catch me if necessary, the idiot.
Amused, I leaned back, sliding onto the ground next to him. “Brother, you better wake up quick. You know I have a thing for wounded chicks with big hearts.”
She smacked my head. “I’m your sister! That’s like saying that about Dona.”
“Ugh…” I cringed, wanting to puke. “Forgive me and never make that comparison again.”
She laughed and winced, reaching for her leg, lifting it up, hopping on one foot as she slowly brought herself onto the ground.
“Let me see,” I said, already reaching for it.
“Save your energy. You need to make sure he’s—”
“If he wakes up and you’re not taken care of he’ll kill me, blood bag or not.” He’d finally blame me for something too. Taking her leg, I got the disinfectant, antibiotics, along with a few bandages. “You’re lucky it was a clean through wound. You shouldn’t walk on it and you definitely shouldn’t let it air out like that.”
“And the other one?”
“The other one?” I looked up at her.
She nodded, lifting her blonde hair and showing me her shoulder. “The doctor out there gave me the patch. It helped with the pain, but she said the bullet is still in.”
I was now sure my father would kill me if he were alive. My mother too...and I was her favorite, but even she couldn’t accept this. This woman, who had only been family for a few short weeks, had suffered and fought more for my brother than I had my whole life. She’d walked through hell with a bullet in her shoulder and wound in her leg just for him.
“Wyatt?”
“Is this the same doctor that gave you the med kit for me?” I asked, peeling the patch off her shoulder. It was good for keeping the pain down and pumping emergency antibiotics in.
She nodded. “She looked kinda pissed, though.”
“I could think of a dozen reasons why any doctor would be pissed to be here at the crack of dawn.” I snickered, reaching for the vial of morphine.
“I don’t like taking drugs,” she muttered, looking at the vial. “They gave us stuff all the time at the prison without explaining. I was scared I’d end up a vegetable or comatose with no way of protecting myself.”
“First, that was illegal. Second, you have a family to protect you now always,” I replied.
She closed her eyes as I injected her, then grabbed a second, smaller pair of forceps to pull out the bullet, which luckily hadn’t fractured like Ethan’s. Those things were used by gangs in order to make more damage.
“Can you do me a favor?” she whispered, her eyelids dropping as the drug kicked in. “You know, as your sister…as family.”
“Between you and Dona, I’m sure I’m never resting again.” I smiled, picking up the suture kit.
“Can you tell him for me?”
I froze, staring down at the needle in my hand. There it was again. That…liquid fire spreading from my chest to my throat.
“I never want to speak about it—”
“I understand.” I resumed picking up the suture and moving to her wound. “Just rest, okay?”
She inhaled thankfully and did her best to stay upright. I worked quickly, bandaging the wound in her shoulder first. Then I lifted her up as she drifted off, grabbing a few more things with my other hand before heading up the stairs with her.
She at least looked peaceful as I laid her down on the bed.
Grabbing a pillow, I lifted up her leg and propped it on top of it, cleaning it out gently before doing what I could to bandage her up without moving her too much. Finished, I grabbed all the scrap around me. I rose to my feet only to see the room an utter mess. Angrily, knowing how much of a neat freak Ethan was, I threw away the junk in my hands before moving to pick up the clothes. One by one, gathering them into my arms, I walked into the small closet, where all his shit was hung up perfectly without a wrinkle…everything but a familiar looking black garment bag.
Dropping the clothes, I reached for it. Zipping it down, sure enough, there was a white card with his initials monogrammed in red on the front. Taking it and flipping it over, I read the same message he’d sent every year.
Another year. Still a Callahan. So dress like one and maybe you’ll start to act like one. –Ethan.
Grinding my teeth together, my eyes burned as I crumpled the letter, fighting the…the roar that wanted to rip through me, for her sake as she slept.
“It’s your fault! If your sister trips, it’s your fault. If your brother gets a paper cut, it’s your fault. If the sky falls and harms anyone within this family as it crashes down, it is your fault! That is what it means to be family!”
I understood now…why our father would yell just at him, why he made sure we’d all be there to witness, Ethan, the perfect one, get a tongue-lashing for something we’d done. It was so we’d realize it was him who’d suffer if we failed, not us, and be thankful because if it weren’t for him it would be us, and could we take it like he could?
“I’m sorry I took so long, Pa,” I whispered, walking out with the bag over my shoulder.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“I Am Not. And Then I Am.”
~ Amie Kaufman
ETHAN
I must be alive. I thought, grimacing in pain. I thought that because I was not in enough pain to be in hell.
“You awake?”
Wyatt?
I lifted my eyelids open only to shut them again due to the brightness.
“Hold on,” he whispered before I heard the blinds close. “Try again.”
Opening them again, I stared up at the ugly popcorn ceiling at first before trying to get up. “Don’t.” He pushed me back down. “I can’t have you popping a stitch.”
I reached to touch my side, feeling the padding on it. “Ivy? Where is she? Is she—”
“Drink,” he said, shoving a cup in my face.
“Ivy—”
“She’s resting. I’ve taken care of her, so drink.” He shoved the cup back at me.
Taking it, I drank, not realizing just how sore my throat was. Lying back on the couch, I closed my eyes, breathing slowly.
“She found you in time.”
“No, she didn’t,” he said softly.
Opening my eyes again and shifting my head to the side, I finally got a good look at him. He sat on the frame of what was once the coffee table beside me, slipping the cufflinks into the wrist of a light blue shirt.
“That was a gift,” I muttered, remembering the suit.
“For me.”
“For your birthday.” Panicking for a moment, I lifted my wrist to make sure two weeks hadn’t gone by.
“I’m taking it early this year,” he replied, finishing and finally glancing at me. “I saw how Elroy got in and out. I got only two questions. First, where are the guns? Second, do you have a plan I need to work within or am I ad libitum?”
Gripping my side again, I dropped my foot on the ground, and then the other one before sitting upright. “Elroy is mine—”
“I’m going to tell you something,” he cut me off once more, something he knew annoyed me, but from the look on his face I couldn’t find the will to argue. “You will…I need you to remember that right now your wife is sleeping, and she’s gone through a lot to make sure you didn’t die, so you’ll remain calm even though you want to die. You will not rip your stitches, you will not bleed over me again and go into shock, so I can help you get upstairs to her.”
I looked him in the eyes and he looked back, unwavering in whatever he was determined to tell me.
“The guns are under you. 4373. My plan…doesn’t matter now, so you’re ad libitum, but I want him alive…” I told him, watching as he rose off the frame, tossing it to the side before lifting up the rug to reveal the keypad. The vault split open wide, the guns and weapons rising up from the ground. He grabbed a few of the guns, putting them into…my shoulder holsters, under his arms, along with a pair of brass knuckles…
“Put those back. We didn’t send you to medical school so you could end up not being a doctor.” I smirked, leaning into the couch.
“You obviously didn’t hear me when I was performing a blood transfusion from myself to you, while operating to save your life.” He dropped the brass knuckles, reaching for knives. “But I promised, in front of your wife, that each time I hear one of your smartass comments I will remind you that not only did I save your life, brother, but I did so while giving you my blood.”
Closing the vault, he stood up, turning to me.
“That’s the second time you’ve brought Ivy into this conversation by force—”
“She had a miscarriage.”
For some reason everything went black. I looked to the side of me as if I expect to get some clarity.
“I don’t know when it started, or how long it went on for. She told me as she held on to your chest, sobbing—”
“Stop talking!” I snapped, gripping onto my side as I pushed myself off the couch. He grabbed onto me. “Let go!”
“You need a moment.”
“I need to go to her.”
“Not like this!” he hollered, and I bent over in pain, but not from the side, no, this one hurt in places I didn’t think could hurt.
My mind.
My soul.
My…my heart.
“I didn’t know.” How didn’t I know? I always knew! “Ugh…”
Squeezing his shoulder, I bit my cheek closed and stood straighter.
“Go to Carofiglio’s.” I sneered through clenched teeth. “Giovanni will know how to draw him out.”
“Let’s go.” He turned, putting my arm over his shoulder.
Slowly, we walked one by one up the stairs.
Neither of us speaking.
Neither of us needing to.
The moment I saw her lying on her side, there was nothing left to talk about. On the bed, I rolled over onto my good side and pulled her closer to me, resting my head on hers.
“I’ll get it done,” he said, closing the door even though he didn’t have to. The moment he put on that suit he’d already done what he need to do.
Gripping on firmer, I kissed the back of her head.
“He’ll pay for this,” I whispered to her. “I swear it.”
“Good,” she whispered back, placing her hand over mine, squeezing. I hadn’t realized she was awake.
“Are y—”
“Don’t,” she whispered, leaning against me. “Not now or ever. None of this ever happened.”
IVY
I didn’t know how long we both lay there holding on to each other, neither of us sleeping. Just lying in the darkness together.
“Ethan.”
“Yes.”
“I…I…lov—”
“Don’t.”
“No…I—”
“Don’t say it today,” he whispered into my ear. “The day none of this ever happened.”
And so we kept silent.
TWENTY-EIGHT
“Monsters can't be reformed.”
~ John Geddes
WYATT
“Tell your brother he owes me one 1998 bottle of Cuvee Cathelin Chave AND a 2005 bottle of Romanee Conti DRC Magnum,” Giovanni grumbled angrily, brushing off his clippers as I Googled quickly, drinking from another damn juice box.
“Holy shit.” I coughed. “They’re both almost fifty thousand fucking pounds. Who gave it to you, the Dalai Lama? The Queen of England? Jesus!”
“Your mother.” He snapped, immediately shutting me up. “Do you know what it meant to be gifted wine? GIFTED wine. I got two. And because of your damn bother now I got none. The little shit.”
I snickered, leaning back in the seat as he came back to me with a comb, running it over my hair before cutting.
“What made you drink two bottles of wine? I’m sure it was not worth the price,” I asked, tilting my head for him.
“It was worth every penny.” He sighed happily, then remembering his anger, took a step back to scowl. “That’s not the point. The point is I drank it too goddamn early, all because your brother planned to have me killed in order to—”
He stopped right at the best fucking part as the front door chimed.
“Sorry, son, we’re closed today.”
“And the man in your seat?”
“Family only….” Giovanni’s voice trailed off, the scissors in his hands dropping when he looked up.
“Perfect. I’ll pay with her then. Now go where you need to go and bring me the package.”
When I turned, there he stood, sweating, hunched over…over Gabriella, Giovanni’s granddaughter. Her bottom lip quivered as she fought back tears, but she was trying her best not to make a sound.
“Lookie here.” He grinned, pressing the gun into her skull as I pulled the cape off of me, rising to my feet. “If it ain’t the good doctor. Callahan. I smelled something fishy. Good thing I brought my own bait.”
“Let her go.” I sneered.
He laughed like a mad man, hunching further over her, shaking her around. “It’s déjà vu! You know, your brother said the same thing before I shot my pretty cousin.”
Gabby flinched, starting to panic. “Gra—”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He put his chin on top of her head. “You’re my little shield.”
He yelled before shooting. Ducking behind the chair, I grabbed the gun.
“COME ON, CALLAHAN!”
The glass shattered around us, glass falling on top of me like rain.
“GRANDPAPA, HELP!” Gabby finally gave in to her fear and started to struggle. But he held her tighter, lifting her up from the ground with him.
“Get your filthy hands off my grandbaby!” Giovanni stood up, pointing his own gun at him. And that moment Elroy’s eyes and arm shifted to him.
I dropped down onto my stomach, shooting straight into his knee. His leg buckled as he kept firing, and I waited for his arm to stretch out once more before shooting right into his wrist, forcing him to drop the
gun and when he did, I barely pushed myself up before rushing at him. He still held on to Gabby, but I didn’t charge into them both. His body went flying out the glass door.
“Move!” I screamed at Gabby, who was still dizzy, confused, bleeding, and scared. She rolled off of him, crawling over the broken glass on the sidewalk. Stepping on his bleeding body, I shot into his other hand.
“You bastard—”
“I know who my father is, thank you.” I snapped out, stretching my arm and shooting in his other knee.
“I’m your fucking package.” I shot into his right foot. “I come with the note: if you fuck with this family, we fuck back.” Then again in the left.
Then his chest twice.
He grinned up at me, a dark red mark over his face. “How’s your brother?”
I shot again at his crotch. “How’s yours?”
“FUCK YOU…”
“You think you’re going to die, that’s why you’re so brave right now. Why you can even smile. You think this is as bad as it gets…but, Elroy.” Crouching down beside him, I pressed the gun into his bullet wound. “I’m a very good doctor and an even better shot. Which means I’ve missed all of your most fatal organs and know how to keep you alive just long enough to see what my brother will do.”
His eyes widened.
“Do you know what this is?” I said, taking out a vial from my coat pocket along with the syringe, slowly filling it up. “I guess you don’t and it doesn’t really matter. Just know it will hurt, and no one will hear you scream. You walked into the wrong barbershop today.”
Forcing his eyes open, he shook, but it didn’t matter. It only made it hurt more as I injected it into his eye.
“My brother has saved my life more times than I can count and you almost took him away before I could say thank you.” I rose back to my feet. “Pray he recovers fast enough to kill you himself because if it were me…I’d make sure you never died. I’d take you to the edge and bring you back over and over…and over again.”