Ten - Part 1

by Sin Ribbon

“Allister, I don’t want the company. I mean, I don’t care.” He huffs, aggravated that his feelings won’t form into proper sentences. “You’re my best mate ... always have been. I couldn’t take the business knowing it put a knife in your back.”

  The older brother lets out a disparaging laugh. “I want to say I don’t care either, but who the fuck knows? That old sod gave up on me ages ago.” He places a supportive hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “I won’t be forgiving him anytime soon, but that’s no reason for you to squander the opportunity.”

  Sebastian’s expression falls, troubled. “You’re really not coming back?”

  The elder Brit chuckles. “No, don’t think I will. Going to see what all the fuss is about on this continent. Might as well take advantage of the dual citizenship dad worked so hard to give us.”

  Sebastian hangs his head in disappointment. He tries to force a smile but can’t mask the fears rising to the surface.

  Allister deflates when he notices. He pulls his brother in for a hug. “Hey, I’m sorry, all right? You hit a nerve back there, but I could never resent you because dad’s an arse. I want you to be happy.”

  Sebastian sighs. “That’s not it. I just ... I can’t believe you’d leave it all behind. I mean, starting over on a whim? Did the breakup with Alyssa prompt this?”

  Allister takes a long draw on his cigarette as he narrows his eyes. “You really don’t shy away from the harsh subjects, do you?”

  The young Brit purses his lips in embarrassment.

  “Look, that was months ago. I’m over it, so no, that’s not why. I’ve given this a lot of thought, Sebo.”

  Sebastian huffs. “But what about your mates back home? What about me?”

  “Ah,” the affirmation of Allister realizing what is truly upsetting his brother.

  Shoulders slumped, Sebastian pouts. “I don’t want to go back without you.” He looks to his brother, earnest spirit radiating with concern.

  “Then stay,” Allister replies with a nonchalant grin.

  The suggestion takes Sebastian by surprise. He staggers, eyes wide, but an involuntary smile forms at the thought.

  “What?! What about mum and dad?”

  Allister shrugs. “Fuck ‘em. You’re an adult. Do what you want.”

  “But won’t dad be furious? He’ll cancel our accounts!”

  “Old sod’s got more money than he knows what to do with.” Allister exhales a cloud of smoke. “But even if he does, we’ll make it work. The easy life never suited me anyway.”

  Sebastian gapes at his brother’s lack of pragmatism. “I admit, it’s an enticing idea—adventure and all that—but don’t you think you’re being too flippant? Dad is definitely going to notice when his boys don’t return from America. Who will take over the business?”

  “He can groom someone within the company. It’s not your concern.” Allister’s flat tone hardly inspires faith. The younger brother nods but continues to fidget, ruminating over the complexities of the situation.

  Seeing that he needs more reassurance, Allister meets his brother’s gaze, and Sebastian suddenly remembers the fiery soul lurking beneath that aloof exterior. “Sebo, the legacy is dad’s dream. You’ve got to consider what you want, else you’ll end up a bitter old sod just like him. Live for what drives you and no one else.”

  The candor of Allister’s belief ignites something in the young Brit. He feels his anxiety being replaced by eager anticipation, and a sly smirk curls across his lips. “Well, I suppose if I don’t tag along, no one will be able to warn the American women to run for their lives.”

  Allister pantomimes a sarcastic laugh and rolls his eyes, but Sebastian isn’t finished making things difficult for his brother. “But! I’ll only stay on one condition,” he declares. The blond raises his eyebrows with nervous expectation. Sebastian snatches the cigarette out of his hand and flicks it away. “No more smoking.”

  Allister squints, his forehead wrinkling as he reconsiders his offer. “Christ, fine.”

  Sebastian holds out his palm. The elder Brit scoffs and pulls out his pack of cigarettes, placing it in his brother’s hand. Sebastian promptly tosses it into a nearby trashcan.

  Allister grumbles. “Always been an annoying little twat. Why did I think now would be any different?”

  “Says the arsehole who destroyed my Lego castle when I was a boy. I haven’t forgotten that.”

  Allister laughs, proud of his villainous act. “C’mon. I’ll buy you a pint.”

  ~ FIVE ~

  Riya

  The glass of water clanks on the small wooden table as Riya downs a couple of ibuprofen tablets. She rubs her temples and tries to find a calm, steady breath.

  Riya is cresting out of her teen years, a short Indian-American decorated with Medusa and septum piercings. The jewelry is ornate: a granulated gold ring beneath her nose with a tiny gold flower on her upper lip. The designs pair well with the abstract floral tattoos intertwining along her shoulders, visible beneath her translucent green t-shirt. Large, twisting shapes carved from bone adorn her modestly stretched earlobes. Her long, straight hair cascades into a sea of ebony, accented by her alluring dark eyes and rich brown skin. Beneath the cloud of depression hanging over her rests a congenial spirit mixed with spontaneous fire, a soul too bright to hold. She eyes the glass in front of her, a coma-like numbness fogging her senses.

  “I’m so sorry, Riya.” The friend who had walked her home earlier, Cassy, sits across from Riya in the small dining area of her kitchen. Her straight, blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail, blue eyes resting on her classmate with deep sympathy. The young woman exhales a heavy sigh, just as incredulous as Riya.

  A loud gulp flushes two more pills down Riya’s throat. “Yeah ... well.” She taps the table and stares off into space. “Guess it wouldn’t have made a difference if I explained bi doesn’t mean completely gay.” She chuckles sarcastically before burying her face in her folded arms. “God, what am I going to do?”

  “Could I talk to them?” Cassy suggests.

  Riya stumbles over a laugh. “Yeah, my best friend—who they think is my girlfriend—explaining why my resistance to their conservative lifestyle is really a good thing. That’ll go real well.”

  The blonde purses her lips. “I’m reeling just as much as you are, hon. For Christ’s sake, they can’t make you homeless! That’s insane!”

  “Legally an adult, Cass, so it’s not like they’re obligated to keep me.” The words muffle out from the closed embrace of her arms.

  A moment passes as the two sit in silence. Riya resides to sit back up, her expression contemplative as she meets Cassy’s gaze. “Did I do the right thing? Standing up for myself?”

  Her friend doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely! How would that have made you feel: to put on a show every day?”

  “I think they would have noticed when it came time for marriage. They would’ve pushed some boring, uptight douche on me—another one of my mom’s friend’s sons—pressured me to be a doctor or at the very least a stay-at-home mom. And here I’d be bringing home various men and women for dinner, sometimes at the same time.”

  “Still into polyamory, huh?”

  “I figure it’s worth a try. Done the right way, if that’s possible. Jealously was never my thing.”

  Both friends share a carefree giggle, but the severity of the situation soon returns. Cassy bites her lip with apprehensive concern. “Riya, what about school? You can’t drop out.”

  The words hit Riya like a landslide. “And how do you suppose I pay for it now? That was my home, my whole life ... It’s all gone.” Tears return to Riya’s eyes. She slumps into her arms again.

  Cassy exhales, a quiet shit visible in her mouth movement. She moves to her friend’s side and offers a comforting embrace.

  After a moment of crying, Riya quiets her sobs and takes a deep breath. “Cass, I know you’re trying to help.”

  Cassy musters a weak smile. “I just want to help you figure this out. What
about financial aid? There has to be something.”

  Riya shakes her head. “I don’t think school is going to happen, at least not now. I didn’t qualify for financial aid because of my dad’s income, and it’ll be years before I can file as independent.”

  The blonde hangs her head in defeat. A solution seems far and away at this point, but nevertheless, Riya forces a smile. “I appreciate that you care so much. You’re a true friend, and I’m so grateful you’re letting me stay, but I can’t sleep on your couch forever.”

  “So what are you going to do? Just ... get a job and never speak to them again?” Cassy’s growing anxiety only further diminishes Riya’s remaining strength.

  The dark-haired woman pauses, her mind turning within to consider the circumstances. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, there’s this tremendous part of me screaming that this is all a bad dream, that I should just go home and try to make up, but ...” she trails off. In the silence however, she begins to feel herself surrendering to peace. “Maybe I’m crazy, but there’s this other part of me that’s saying this is right somehow, like it’s meant to be.”

  Cassy half-smiles, worried yet hopeful. “You were always a spiritual one.” A realization dawns on Riya’s companion, and she perks up. “Why not do a tarot reading, hon? I remember the one you gave me after high school when I had no idea what to do with my life.” She chuckles to herself, a smile growing from the warmth of the memory. “It gave me perspective.”

  “I’ve still got it in my bag,” Riya replies with a coy grin. “Can’t think of a better time for some guidance.”

  “Hey, take whatever small help the universe is willing to give after what you’ve been through.” Cassy gives Riya another supportive hug before taking their glasses to the sink. “C’mon, why don’t you sleep upstairs on the air mattress tonight? We haven’t done that since we were kids.”

  “Some good ‘ole nostalgia from middle school, huh?”

  The blonde winks in response. “Exactly.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Riya sits cross-legged on the carpeted floor of Cassy’s room. It’s a typical college bedroom: single bed in the corner with a computer desk, string lights, and posters of esoteric bands. Sprawled in front of Riya are six tarot cards laid out in a pyramid-style spread. She eyes them intently, analyzing their implications before reaching out to pick up the Death card. Cassy sits opposite to her with curious interest.

  “That’s ominous,” her friend declares.

  “It’s not what you think. The Death card means letting go of the old and welcoming the new. Something must die in exchange for rebirth, like a phoenix.”

  “Whoa.” Cassy leans in, wide-eyed. “Eerily close to home there.”

  Riya returns Death to its place in the bottom row and scrutinizes the other cards. Most meanings suggest change, moving on, and letting go—all confirming her instinctual feeling to leave her old life behind in search of something greater. A card in the middle row stands out: The Fool. She smirks as she picks it up and mutters, “Definitely close to home.”

  “Death and the Fool? This doesn’t seem very positive.”

  Riya rolls her eyes, shaking her head with playful exasperation. “No, no. The Fool means taking risks. She’s the sort who leaps forward without thinking and just goes for it, y’know?”

  “Oh! So you think it’s talking about following your instincts?”

  Riya nods. “I think so. This reading has been pretty on point so far. I even got the Eight of Cups earlier today.” Riya studies The Fool, nostalgic. “It means things in your life are stagnant, and you have to leave them behind so you can move forward in your life. It’s really—” Riya stops short when she notices the card at the top of the reading, her outcome: The Moon. She sets The Fool aside, expression conflicted.

  Concerned, Cassy probes, “What does that one mean?”

  “Well, normally The Moon suggests illusions, darkness, fears. It doesn’t make sense as my outcome.” Riya frowns. “But it’s a mental landscape, one where it’s easy to get lost. It represents a place most people can’t go. This card can be a negative omen, but I don’t know. I feel like it’s referring to some kind of ... mystical state of being, like a gateway or transformation.” The words surprise Riya even as they leave her mouth. She senses a strange awareness flickering into her mind, like an important dream on the edge of memory. “No. It feels like the abandonment of what I know, leaving the natural world for something else.”

  Cassy takes a long view of her raven-haired friend, unsure of the true meaning she’s implying. “Leaving the natural world behind? What do you mean?”

  Riya nibbles on her lower lip. “I don’t know. The Moon represents a mysterious realm, something outside human understanding.” She unfolds her legs and arches her back for a stretch. Gazing upward, she loses herself in the rotating fan blades on the ceiling.

  Cassy yawns. “Tired yet, hon? I’d think you’d be exhausted.” She rises to her feet and moves to the hall closet to get the air mattress.

  “On the contrary. Too much to think about.” The words come out more somber than she intended, a Freudian slip of anguish. Cassy pauses, troubled by the change in tone, but Riya shifts to a new topic before her friend can interject. “Anyway, I’ll jot this reading down and try to sleep.” She opens her laptop and notices her journal document is open. She tenses.

  “What’s up?” Cassy asks.

  “Just ... reminded where they got their info.” She drags her fingers through her hair.

  Her blonde companion moves to her side. Both stare at the illuminated text on the screen. Several choice words and phrases stand out that Riya never wanted her parents to see: lesbian, bisexual, polyamorous, gender identity—things Riya had questioned on the path towards discovering her identity.

  She scoffs as she reads. “They were furious when I stretched my earlobes, hated my tattoos. Each time they warned me, and I kept pushing them.”

  “Hey, this is not your fault!” Cassy protests. “You are who you are, even if they can’t accept that.”

  Riya pulls her knees into her chest and wraps her arms around them. “But what if they were right? What if this is all just some phase? I could’ve sabotaged my whole life for nothing.”

  “Well so what? You think your parents are the exact same people they were at twenty? Who cares what they think? All that matters is that you’re happy with who you are.”

  A hesitant smile creeps across Riya’s lips. “That’s some amazing wisdom from a nineteen-year-old.”

  The spry blonde laughs. “I do what I can.”

  “Thank you. Really, thank you ... Just don’t hate me when I ask to borrow money.”

  “No problem,” Cassy chuckles. “Do you know where you’ll go?”

  “I’m honestly not sure. I think I’ll stop off in New York, but I don’t plan on staying.” She closes her eyes and takes a long inhale, allowing her mind to clear. “Heading west, that’s what feels right.” She looks to Cassy, eyes welling with tears. “Am I crazy? Dropping out, spending my money—and yours—on a whim? I wish this made sense. I feel like I shouldn’t believe it.”

  Sympathetic, Cassy squeezes Riya in for a hug. “I don’t understand it either, hon, but things have always had a funny way of falling into place for you. How many times did you freak me out when your weird feelings came true? And your mom nearly passed out when you told her she was pregnant with a boy, remember? I maintain that you are a witch.”

  Riya smiles as her small sobs escape into Cassy’s shoulder.

  “And if it doesn’t work out,” Cassy adds, “you’re always welcome back here. We can figure it out.”

  Riya nods. For a moment, the two quietly share their embrace. Riya keeps her face buried in Cassy’s shoulder, hoping to shield herself from the pain of reality. Despite the gravity of her parents’ betrayal and the mountain of uncertainty before her, a new sense of purpose has begun to grow in the hidden corners of her soul.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

 
; The night is mercifully tranquil. In Cassy’s room, a slumbering Riya lies on the air mattress next to her friend’s bed. Her eyes dart wildly beneath her eyelids, indicating REM sleep.

  In her dreams, Riya stands alone on a dark, reflective plane. The humidity is choking; vaporous clouds of gas spin upward from the floor. Above her, an infinite sea of stars rotates in the sky, but somehow the tiny lights seem closer, like she could reach out and touch them. They twinkle in response to the tendrils of smoky air.

  Riya inspects her surroundings and spots what appears to be four people in the distance. Though obscured by the fog, she can make out two taller figures and two shorter ones, but it’s difficult to discern their age, race, or gender.

  She attempts to step towards them but discovers her legs are heavy, immobile. A strange sense of familiarity drapes over Riya. She looks on, possessed not by curiosity but longing, as if she must reach these individuals at any cost. Her heart tells her they are family, more kin than her parents ever were. Then an influx of whispers rises with the fog—four distinct voices in a rapid patter of thoughts. Building. Calling. She reaches out to them, but they billow away in an instant, taken by some sudden gust of wind.

  ~ SIX ~

  Orion

  The full moon hangs over a length of apartment buildings on the outskirts of the Steel City, not far from the cobblestone street Thane walked earlier that day. In one three-story complex, in the top floor unit, sleeps Orion with limbs sprawling over the couch and mouth hanging open. A trickle of drool oozes down her cheek. The empty popcorn bowl now rests on the floor, and a contented Sirius lies curled up below his master. Images flash on the television screen in the living room. The horror movie is long over, replaced by late night infomercials.

  A terrible actor drones about a gratuitous product on the TV. As he inflates the product’s benefits, Orion’s limbs begin to twitch. Her brow furrows, and her breathing intensifies to short bursts.