by Tina Amiri
“What’s going on Morgen? What’s he helping you with? You look so serious.” She shrugged with a tiny simper. “My friends are going to die when they find out there’re two of you.”
“Beth, listen…no one is allowed to find out about Night.” With his elbows pressing hard on his lap, he dropped his face into his hands. “You know I’ve always been sick?”
“Yeah, but you’re not now…”
Morgen nodded, even with his head in his hands, before he lifted his face. “Yeah Beth, I am. You also know how hard I’ve worked with the band to make it.” He breathed a laugh at the drama of his own words. “Well, we’re close, we’re really close, and we can still have what I want—what all of us in the band deserve—but it’s not going to happen anymore without Night.”
She looked contemplative for a moment. “Why? Will you be in treatment again for a really long time? And what about Night? Won’t anyone miss him?”
Morgen spoke gently, hypnotically. “You can ask him about that if you want, but there isn’t going to be any treatment for me, this time. That’s why no one can know. If you tell Mom and Dad, they’ll just freak out. They won’t understand that my life’s ambition is more important than their need to pretend that there’s hope. If you tell them, everything I’ve worked for will be for nothing. Is that what you want? And we don’t even know if they’ll accept Night. They may just tell him to leave—and he needs my help too. Do you understand, Beth? He needs my name and I need his life.”
“Morgen…?” she whimpered. “What are you saying? Are you going to die?” She bowed over her knees as a thin, strained cry escaped her. Morgen fought to appear unaffected. He looked the other way and eventually left her sobbing while he stood by the window.
“Morgen, are you absolutely sure?” She took one look at him and nodded at the floor. “How can you ask me to ignore that you’re letting yourself die without a fight?”
“Why does everybody say that to me when I’ve explained it already? Are you going to take everything away from me, and from three, no, four other people? There is no goddamn help and the only thing I can change now is my legacy, and Night’s fate, and it all comes down to how I use the time I have left.”
Night creaked open the bathroom door like he’d been listening from behind it all along. Beth turned her watery eyes to him.
“Why are you helping him do this?”
“It’s not all about Morgen,” he said. “I’m just helping myself.”
****
Sandy entered the house, long after dark, with a few torn grocery bags and his navy-blue windbreaker tied around his waist. He hadn’t expected to black out in the car when he thought he’d close his eyes for a minute, after the incident. He grew defensive when he caught Brigitte staring at him, or rather at his bloody nose, crimson cheek, and black eye.
“Sandy, what happened to you?”
“I got my ass kicked behind the grocery store,” he stated as though it was partially her fault. “I’m sorry about the missing groceries.”
“Oh, Sandy, don’t worry about that. Are you all right? Your poor head…you might have a concussion.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Did you go to the hospital?”
“It isn’t that bad,” he insisted, attempting to bypass Brigitte, only to stumble into Frederick at the edge of the lobby. Even Beth arrived, with Morgen, likely after hearing the commotion in the lobby. Beth held her hands over most of her face and her brother looked confused, or shaken. Even in his present state, something made Sandy look at Morgen twice.
Frederick began with a stutter. “I hope you’ll just rest for as long as you have to, Sandy. Did you see who did this to you?”
“No, I didn’t see him. But it’s fine, really. It’s fine!” He strode through the crowd that seemed amplified in his dizziness and fled up the stairs.
On the landing, he heard the sweep of footsteps at the end of the hallway, and even more clearly, he heard a door handle being released. Any other time, he would have investigated the noise, but tonight, he only wanted to hide in his suite where he could sulk in peace, and tend to his torn flesh.
****
Morgen didn’t complain about the pain in his arms and legs, but it showed in the dimness of his eyes and through his erratic breaths. The only hurt he ever blatantly expressed followed a short telephone conversation with the music agent who he had hoped to reconnect with. Night rushed into the common room after the sound of an airborne telephone crashing.
On the carpet, sitting against the couch, Morgen sat wheezing and bawling over his knees. “I don’t have time for this…I don’t have enough time to start from scratch! I tried to explain it to him, but he doesn’t want to have anything to do with us now.”
Night looked irritated. He saw himself on the floor, not his brother, and he despised the image.
“He said it wasn’t worth it to him either if I could take this long to explain myself—and he’s right.” He looked up. “I couldn’t make a move until you were ready—I couldn’t risk letting the band down again! But I couldn’t tell him that! It doesn’t matter what I do now, I’m going to be completely finished before we get another bite.” Through a series of gasps, he regained his composure, stood up, and pronounced: “Well, I don’t have a choice. I need a contract—even if you have to be the one to get it for me.”
“Morgen? What if it doesn’t work out?”
Morgen glanced at him sharply. “If you think it’s not going to work out, go home.”
“You know I can’t do that. And you wouldn’t want me to go really, would you?”
“Don’t test me, Night. You know the deal.”
“Yes, and I want it to work,” Night said, stopping his brother before he could retreat to his bedroom. “I need it to work—just like you—but this is all really hard. Sometimes, in a way, I wish things were simple again like they used to be. I think sometimes that I would’ve been happy, and could be again, if I was back in Oregon, and just working at the restaurant, but not all by myself…if you were there too.”
Morgen balked. “Oh yeah, that would be great. You’re testing me, Night. You’re creeping me out!” He barged into his bedroom and tried to slam the door behind him, but Night caught it.
“There’s something wrong with you, Morgen.”
“No shit!”
“Not in that way. You even scare Beth, and I don’t know if I ever want to be exactly like you.”
“Listen,” Morgen hissed, leaning forward, “you’re the freaky one! That’s what the problem is. And you’d better start to lose that sick side of yours if you plan to get anywhere in this world. Did you see Sandy’s face? Huh? I have to try to amuse myself in any way that I can, these days, and if you piss me off enough, do you think I wouldn’t arrange to have something creative done with you too?”
Night’s brow pulled together at this revelation and he scrambled out of his close quarters, feeling much the same as when he’d fled the burning restaurant that incomprehensible day, almost six months ago.
****
On a cooler latitude, Lila kept pace with the sunrise on her favorite scenic trail. She barely slowed down as she skirted along the crest of rock that offered a hint of danger to her run. With the sky brightening before her, she glanced at her watch and confirmed that she’d never reach the halfway point before the top of the hour, so she came to a clumsy stop before turning around.
“It’s a perfect day to be up here. I didn’t think you would miss it.”
Lila’s eyes flashed to the right, wondering how someone could have appeared on the path without the normal prelude of footsteps.
“Your problems, Lila… Are they still catching up with you, these days?”
Andrew stepped down from the treed slope along the hiking trail as a double alarm triggered inside her. He wasn’t dressed for hiking like the one time she’d convinced him to at least somewhat experience her pastime. In fact, he looked “all business” in a pressed shirt, dr
ess pants, and an expensive woolen trench coat.
Her hands slid into her pockets on both sides, since she couldn’t remember which pocket contained her jackknife. “I told you not to come near me, Andrew.”
“You told me not to call or visit you at home or at work. I did none of those things. Enough with the games, Lila.” His face flushed. “I’m just here to find out what happened to my son.”
“Oh Andrew, he’s not even your son. You’re delusional and you’re obsessed, and you’re really scaring me, so why would you think I’d ever help you find Night?”
“Lila,” he said, stooping to look pleadingly up into her unadorned face. “Why are you keeping me from the only family I have left in this whole world—the only one I managed to save?”
She pulled out her puny weapon and opened it as he watched.
“Ridiculous, Lila. I’m not here to hurt you.”
“I don’t know that. You know that I spoke to the police…”
Andrew gripped both of her forearms and the jackknife skipped from her right hand. “It’s all fine. I spoke to them too and straightened everything out. Misunderstandings happen, Lila. I’m not mad. Now, I only want to know what happened to Night—I only want to know where you sent him. This is not an unreasonable request.”
He let go of her arms, swooped down, and pocketed the jackknife himself; then he faced her again, with his hands inside his coat, like he’d never moved. “Come on, I’ll walk down with you while you tell me what happened.”
She did feel less threatened with both of them strolling along, like in the past. “I don’t believe there’s been any misunderstanding, Andrew, so what are you going to do if I don’t tell you anything… Kill me?”
“I’ve already been hassled enough by every form of police—thanks to you—without another dead body…” He halted and sighed. “I meant…without a dead body being thrown into their investigation.”
Lila faced Andrew, calculating her chances of making it back alive… “No, you had it right before. That missing girl…just another ‘plebian bitch’ about to ruin Night’s life, like what happened to Reade. And it’s easy to accuse someone of all kinds of infamy when they aren’t coming back…”
Andrew’s blue eyes unsheathed like a sword to become metallic and deadly. She backed away but a schoolyard bully shunt sent her reeling over the crag. A full somersault later, she caught some shoots that protruded from the rocky slope as she also gained some footing on a minuscule ledge. She peered up to see that her cap had been saved by some impish twigs above her, as the one inside her grip gave way. But it didn’t matter… She was still holding onto Night’s secret.
Chapter Fourteen
Rather than celebrating on Christmas Eve in their European tradition, the Dahlsis toasted the holiday with wine and opened presents after an elaborate lunch…only because Brigitte had obligated the whole family to a charity function that evening. Morgen, who could rarely keep food down anymore, sent Night to experience Christmas for himself.
Before this, Night had only known Christmas as that time of year when Andrew chopped down a spruce or pine tree, for the restaurant, and asked him to decorate it. Morgen’s explanation of Christmas helped, but when it morphed into one about religion, Night shut the conversation down fast. The very suggestion of rules sent him back to the Hell he’d known in Oregon, under the charge of a man who probably thought he was God.
He had begun to appreciate the “merry” aspects of Christmas, so he felt a sense of tragedy for the spindly housekeeper who insisted on working through the holiday rather than admit that he had nowhere else to go on his days off. It bothered him even more to know that a member of the Dahlsi household had literally bought Sandy the angry swarm of colors that spanned over one-half of his face.
Beth had maintained a solemn air, ever since Morgen shared his plight, and Night, through his usual passiveness, seemed unenthusiastic enough to genuinely pass as Morgen. He stared at one of his gifts for a few second, before realizing it was a music book for guitar.
“Oh, Beethoven…” he blurted. “Did he write something new lately?”
Beth slapped his arm and giggled nervously. Sandy shook his head and rolled his eyes—as did Frederick, who had always tried to steer Morgen toward the classical. Night watched all this and realized he’d messed up, saved only by Beth’s effort to turn the blunder around.
“You said you wanted to try some classical, and I didn’t even tell Dad about that…”
Luckily, Morgen saved him from wreaking any more Christmas chaos by ordering him to stay behind from the charity event so he could rehearse with him. It was precious time whenever they could perform in tandem, without restraint, and work on matching their voices. Private vocal lessons gave Night the edge he needed to breathe life into Morgen’s compositions, but voice lessons alone couldn’t instill Morgen’s personal style.
After just one hour, Beth surprised both of them when she returned from the function, alone, having faked a sore stomach. She admitted she’d come to challenge their scheme, one last time.
“What if they can cure you?” she implored.
Morgen slammed the stop button on the tape deck that he used to demonstrate his sound for Night. He walked away, grabbed his newly purchased bottle of tequila from the bar, and planted himself on the carpet again. Without asking anyone what they wanted, he poured a glass for Beth and refilled Night’s.
“I really expected that after the big shock wore off, you would start to support me a little bit…but I guess not. Well,” Morgen continued, in a voice of dry ice, “it’s Christmas Eve. I think we should make a toast. How about ‘to my last Christmas’ or to fate for being so fucking clever, and for awarding the realization of all my hard work to either nobody or to someone who doesn’t even give a shit.”
While Morgen took a long drink from his glass, Night widened his eyes at Beth who returned his helpless expression before standing up.
“You really are sick, Morgen, and I mean sick with hate. Maybe you’d get better if you actually tried.”
Morgen rammed his drink down so it lapped onto the carpet. “For Christ’s sake! You sound like you’ve been taking lessons from this asshole, here. Will both of you just fuck the hell off? I feel like shit anyway, and it’s not safe for us to be together like this with Sandy lurking around all the time.”
Night rose with Beth, glad to follow her out of Morgen’s suite. She paused in the hallway and lightly clasped his fingers in hers.
“I’ve never seen him this mean,” she whimpered. “…Night? Will you tell me if he gets really bad? Will you make sure I know what’s happening, even if he doesn’t want me to know?”
He nodded.
“I’m so glad you’re here. Maybe you’ll teach him a few things. Maybe he’ll start to become more like you.”
Night stifled a cough. “I doubt I’ll ever be able to teach him anything.” He longed to take her into his intimate realm, where Morgen refused to venture. He hoped she might invite him.
“Will you sit downstairs with me? I like to look at the tree.”
It might have been the request he’d waited for. He kneeled beside her and listened when she started to talk, but she sounded removed, almost feverish.
“In a few days, we’ll have to take it down already… Not that I care. Not that it matters. Not that anything matters.” She started to sniff in an effort to keep her face dry. “Tell me what you meant… Why do you think you don’t know a lot?”
Through his own glazed vision, the staggering number of white lights on the Christmas tree became hypnotic.
“Remember…I told you that I lived with Andrew, my grandfather? Well, I didn’t tell you everything about that. I didn’t tell you how he made me a freak, like Morgen says.”
“C’mon. He called you a genius, and I have no doubt that you’re smarter than he is.”
Night smiled at the sound of those words, but he didn’t know quite how to respond.
“Night, how can Morgen ex
pect you to be him forever, or for any length of time? Don’t you ever want to go home?”
“Sometimes I do,” he said, ashamed. “See… I really am stupid.”
“What can be stupid about wanting to go home?”
Night debated for a few seconds. Finally, he twisted at the waist and pulled his shirt out of the back of his pants. He rarely thought about it anymore, but suddenly he had to know what Beth would think if she would still find it so shocking that he would rather consent Morgen’s crazy ploy than go home. He slowly raised the material and waited for a reaction.
He heard nothing, not even her breath, but Beth’s fingers suddenly curled around his while her other hand continued to drive the material up over his back; then his shirt dropped like a curtain, and it took him a moment to feel that Beth was crying.
“How could anyone do that?” she choked out. “This is awful. Everything is awful.”
That might have been true if Beth had retreated in horror, but even Daphne hadn’t done that. If anything, Andrew had only succeeded in cursing him with a conversation piece that required much tedious explanation every time he chose to reveal it.
“You’re nothing like Morgen,” Beth uttered, positioning herself opposite him. “I said it before… You don’t even look the same.”
Night felt his eyes brighten like the lighted snowflake at the top of the Christmas tree as she leaned in to kiss his mouth. He reached behind her and pulled her down over him, welcoming a few of her light brown curls to spill into his face. Her neckline gaped and he could see her cleavage past her diamond teardrop pendant. His eyes pleaded with her, and at long last, they drew her into his common reverie.
The diamond around her neck sparkled in his view each time he opened his eyes. The tree behind Beth grew even more brilliant with reflecting, refracting, and actual lights. They glimmered like thousands of Beth’s diamond pendants, but exaggerated, all surrealistically decorating the tree’s boughs. It felt like waking from a dream…thousands of shapes and colors lifting him from the dreariness of where he’d come from.