AntiqueSoul83: I've always liked the idea of it.
SunDanceQT: These is no escaping the animals.
96itadakimasu96: My first two classes of students used to say, "Yes, Aubrey" in the most sarcastic voice whenever I gave them instructions. They were also the only class that followed instructions, lol.
Dysrhythmia
Trying not to lose my head,
But I have never been this scared before.
Tell you what I'll do instead,
Lay my body down on the floor,
To forget what I've done,
Silhouette til the good Lord come.
- The Fray
"Why do you think he did it?" Beca asks from her spot on the windowsill.
It's warmer outside again – and humid, but not quite unpleasantly so. Give it another day or two and it will probably be freezing again. Autumn in New York can be unpredictable. That's one thing about it that Aubrey hates. She sits on the fire escape, vape in hand, staring at the backyard stage without really seeing it. Why did her father do that? That's the question, isn't it. She knows what the answer isn't. For her. He didn't do it for her. "To save face?" That makes the most sense to her. He wants to separate himself from JJ's idiocy.
"At least it worked – he's in jail."
"Why do I feel like shit about it?" She should be celebrating. Part of the reason he's there is because she wants him there.
"Because he's your brother," Beca answers, "And you're a better person than he is."
"Am I?"
"Yeah. You are."
Maybe.
"Hey, so I was thinking today," Beca says.
"New experience for you?"
"Funny."
Aubrey smiles a little.
"Maybe I won't tell you about it."
"Okay." Aubrey resumes staring at nothing.
"Okay? You don't want to know?"
"If it's something you really want to tell me, you're going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not."
Beca slides down onto the fire escape next to her. "Okay, so I was thinking today," she repeats, "Hear me out on this…"
Aubrey leans her head against the railing.
"What was the bartender's name again?"
"Nikki."
"What if Luke and Nikki were trying to help you?"
"While killing everyone around us?" Aubrey asks.
"Seriously, just hear me out. Remember the night I brought your stuff back from the bonfire and you were washing Chloe's shirt because she threw up on it? What if it wasn't because she was drunk? You were with Nikko before that, right? Maybe she slipped something into a drink and Chloe drank it."
Like 'local whiskey'. "How was that supposed to help me?"
"Maybe whatever she put in there wasn't enough and Chloe just threw it up then passed out and slept it off? So then when she had an opportunity with you, she gave you more or something else entirely? From what I gathered, you were pretty sick when you got back to the inn, right? Sick enough that if you didn't think it was stress that maybe you should have gone to the hospital?"
"There was no hospital." Chloe had been trying to feel if she had a fever – which was definitely not the norm. Neither was how her entire body was shaking beyond control or how she was violently ill twice with only minutes between. Or how dazed and delirious she felt. If Chloe had tried to change her clothes or wipe her nose at any other point in time, she probably would have died from embarrassment. Instead, she could barely sit herself up. It's possible she should have gone to the emergency room.
"No. But there was a clinic. And if the doctor realized something was really wrong, they probably would have life flighted you off the island or, at the very least, found someone with a boat. Maybe they were trying to get you and Chloe out of there so it all would stop – or never start to begin with. Maybe they were trying to make things harder for Jesse, but accidentally made it easier for him instead."
There are several more events that back up Beca's idea – the sign language term for 'help' and how Luke had claimed he was on her side. "You might be right." In the end, they still killed innocent people though – and she'll never forgive them for what happened to Chloe. Ever.
"Can you say that again while I record it? You've said that a few times now, and I really want to have it on record."
"I said might." Aubrey leans over the other direction because Beca's shoulder is softer than the railing. Once she settled, one leg stretched out in front of her, she closes her eyes and misses sitting with Chloe this way. Misses the constant cheerfulness in her voice. The gentleness of her touch. What she smells like. How if she had let herself, she could have just sat like this with her for hours, not once thinking about anything else she had to do.
"Sorry I'm not a good stand in – for her," Beca knows what she's thinking.
"It's okay. I don't want a stand in." They could make an exact replica of Chloe and she would still always know it wasn't her. "How do you feel about grading papers?"
"Like there's only going to be one acceptable answer to that question."
"See. You'll do." Aubrey tucks the vape away and stands up.
Beca groans and allows herself to be pulled to her feet. "You owe me."
"Technically, you're helping me help Chloe. Take it up with her." Aubrey releases her and ducks in through the window before adding, "If you're worried it's above your education level, there's an answer key and nothing regarding Paul Revere."
"You're lucky I'm starting to like you."
xxxxx
"Door open or closed?"
Aubrey has grown used to the question and Beca answering 'open' without missing a beat. She knows the reason Beca wants it open isn't for her own benefit.
"Do you think you can stay for awhile?" Beca asks.
That isn't for her own benefit either. Aubrey looks down at her hands.
"Yeah. Scoot over, Bunny."
Aubrey inches over toward the middle of the bed where she doesn't exactly hate it. She finds a comfortable spot on her side with Beca pressed against her back and her head resting on Julia's shoulder.
"How are the house plans coming along, Beca?" Julia asks.
They talk about the foundation and the insulation, and Aubrey tries to keep up for awhile. Eventually, she succumbs to the steady motion of Julia's thumb rubbing her arm and the knowledge that she's going to need to get more sleep if she wants to keep up with a room full of children five days per week. They can handle the technicalities of the house.
xxxxx
Aubrey wakes up from the sensation of someone prying her fingers back. She bolts upright in the dark, smacks her forehead against the head of her assailant, then falls back when she realizes it's Beca who woke her.
"Dude, ow."
"What are you doing?" Aubrey whispers.
"I'm trying to get up to go to the bathroom," Beca whispers back, "But you're kind of refusing to let that happen."
"What?"
"You're holding onto my shirt."
Aubrey turns her head and looks at her hand as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. Beca is right. She's clinging to a fistful of fabric so tightly that her fingers are sore and stiff when she releases it. She saves face by shoving Beca toward the edge of the bed then rolls over to face the empty space on the other side of her. Julia must have left awhile ago; the mattress is no longer warm. "You hurt my head," she complains as she watches Beca walk toward the door.
"I hurt your head?" Rather than arguing it further, she disappears into the hall.
And then Aubrey is alone in the dark. She can feel her heart thudding as she listens for anything that isn't the sound of her own breathing. There is a pillow near her hand and she digs her fingers into it so they won't find their way to Beca once she returns. If she returns. She's going to come back. Nothing is going to happen between the bedroom and the bathroom. Still, she doesn't make a sound, doesn't move as she waits. She feels ridiculous.
The pitter-patter of tiny nails on the hall floor keeps her from startling when Bark lets himself in and leaps up onto the bed, followed by Catsy seconds later. He lays in front of her with his head on her thigh while Catsy takes his position at the very top of the bed. If anything was wrong, they would be the first to know. She rests her hand tentatively on Bark's back.
"If I didn't know any better," Beca says as she walks into the room, "I'd say you're really starting to like having pets."
"I guess it's a good thing you know better then."
Beca crawls back into bed behind her and drapes an arm over her side.
"I can't feel that hand," Aubrey reminds her and flexes her fingers.
"How do you know I'm holding your hand?"
"Because I'd feel it if you were touching anywhere else on my body."
As if to test that theory, Beca moves her hand to Aubrey's breast and receives a hard elbow in the chest as her confirmation that, yes, that is an area she can feel. "I think you broke a rib."
Bark adjusts his position as Aubrey rolls over onto her back. "I can break one on the other side to match," she offers.
"I don't care that much about symmetry. Do you want to talk about what you were dreaming about that left permanent wrinkles in my shirt?"
They were in the woods again. She can still hear her own voice screaming Beca's name. This time, when she finally found her, Luke grabbed her neck from behind and was trying to drag her away. She shakes her head and tries to think of better things – of work, their future home, how she isn't trapped on an island in the pouring rain. Instead, she's in a bed – safe. Safe. She wraps Beca's arm in a hug and laces their fingers with the hand she can feel as she closes her eyes. They're all safe.
Jesse may still be out there but Luke is dead. She saw him die. Her fears are as stupid as stupid gets. Beca's thoughts about Luke and Nikki trying to help creep back into her mind, but they do little to ease the tightness in her chest. She releases Beca's arm and rubs her throat. Her fingers catch on her necklace and somewhat of a calm washes over her as she wraps her fingers around the key. "Do you ever wander how things would be different if just one thing in your life had gone a different way? I mean, beside these past few weeks."
Beca turns her head. "Had my parents stayed together."
"That must have been hard."
"I gue-" Beca stops mid-word. "It was. I felt like a whole different person after that."
"What were you like before?"
Beca exhales a laugh. "Friendly."
"Yeah right."
"I'll have you know, I was," Beca defends herself, "What do you think you would be like if your life had been different?"
Had that lady returned for her – had she been wanted, loved. Happy is what she usually thinks she would be – but how she would be as a person? "I don't know."
"I think you'd be like you are right now," Beca says.
"What am I right now? A disaster?"
"Genuine."
Something about the word just sounds nice. Genuine. No longer trying to live up to others' expectations – just trying to figure out her own. Not being crushed by the constant weight of failure and shame. Where would she be if she had grown up like that? Would she have met Chloe? What would she be doing with her life? Maybe she would have somehow slipped into teaching. Maybe she would be in bed right now, surrounded by friends and family and a stupid cat and even more stupid dog.
"What are you guys doing up?" Julia whispers from the open doorway.
"Believe it or not, it's my fault this time," Beca replies, "Why are you awake?"
"Because I told you I'd check on you if you left the door open. You don't think I actually wake up to do it?"
"I think you're crazy," Beca answers.
"I think you should be asleep."
"Aubrey won't stop talking."
Aubrey opens her eyes and frowns in Beca's general direction.
"Mm. I thought you said it was your fault." Julia pulls the blanket up closer to Aubrey's shoulders then sits down on the edge of the bed.
"It's more of a shared blame," Beca claims.
"I beg to differ." Aubrey's frown turns into a scowl.
"Alright. Well, do either of you need anything before I go back to bed?"
Beca doesn't answer for her this time; instead, she's silent, looking in Aubrey's direction.
"It's quieter in here," Aubrey comments on the sound of snoring originating in the living room.
"Is it now?" Julia asks.
No. "Aside from us talking…" Her tone is convincing, at least.
"I think I sleep better over the snoring." Julia slides under the blanket anyway. "What are you guys talking about?"
"What we would be like if our parents hadn't screwed us up," Beca answers.
"That's a pretty harsh way to look at yourselves," Julia comments and they both turn their heads to look upward at the ceiling, "I think they hurt you, not screwed you up. And you know what fixes hurt?"
"Years of overpriced therapy?" Beca guesses.
"Well, yes, but besides that."
"Vodka and cocaine?"
Julia reaches over Aubrey and smacks Beca on the arm. "Love." She dodges Aubrey's hand trying to swat her away and strokes down the bridge of her nose. "Now go back to sleep."
It's ironic that love should be the remedy to hurt when it's usually love that's also the cause.
xxxxx
"Miss Aubrey!" Violet rushes her as she steps out of her car. "Miss Aubrey!"
"I really think you're supposed to call me Miss Posen."
"I don't think so. My dad said thanks from brushing my hair."
Aubrey watches the car that dropped Violet off drive away in a hurry. "Will you help me carry things inside?"
"Yes!" Violet trots along beside her toward the building, stacks of papers in her arms. "I get to be the helper." She does a little dance. "I get to be the helper. Do you have food for me?"
"Mhm," Aubrey hums through the strap of her lunch bag that she places between her teeth so she has a free hand to open the door.
"Do you like Doc McStuffins?"
"I don't know what that is," Aubrey answers, maneuvering her bag back into her hands with graded papers and lesson plans.
"Do you like Paw Patrol? How are you a teacher if you never saw Paw Patrol?"
"It's my second day." She doesn't even have a teaching degree.
"And? You coulda watched it last night. Keep that in mind tonight, okay? Can I use your jacket?"
Aubrey unloads her things onto the desk then strips off her jacket and hands it over along with a Nutri-Grain bar in return for Violet's stack of papers.
"Thank you!" Violet skips across the room to go collapse on the beanbag.
Day Two. Aubrey slides the graded work into the bin labeled for the 'Paper Passer-Outer' in Chloe's handwriting and is surprised by how easy this feels. Not that the job itself is easy, but it feels natural – organizing, planning, keeping everyone in line. And if the previous day is anything to go by, her class actually likes her.
"What did you do before you were a teacher?"
"Law."
"That sounds boring."
"It was." Aubrey smiles down at the desk. "Very." When she looks up, Violet is snuggled comfortable beneath her jacket and the sheer tininess of all these little people hits her. "What do you want to be?"
"President of the moon."
"Oh. That's…why not somewhere on Earth?"
"Earth already has a president."
One president. For all of Earth. "And who would that be?"
"Santa." She says it with such confidence that if Aubrey didn't know any better, she'd believe her. "He's the only one who knows who all the people are."
"Uh huh." Aubrey's facial muscles twitch. "That's a very…interesting presupposition."
Violet grins and sinks further down into the beanbag. "Thank you. What planet would you be president of?"
"I don't know." It isn't exactly a question Aubrey has asked herself – or been asked by anyone else.
"You should figure it out before someone else takes it first. I already took Planet Moon."
…Planet Moon.
"What about the sun?"
"The sun is a star." Maybe she can't break the news about Santa, but it would be wrong not to tell her about the sun, right? They can address the moon later.
"Miss Chloe told you that too, didn't she? She's wrong. Because why is it never with the other stars at night?"
"It's too bright for you to see the other stars when our side of Earth is facing the sun."
"Sounds fake."
"Maybe it's an introvert. It doesn't like the other stars."
"Why aren't the other stars even brighter than one star at night then?" Violet asks.
"Because it's the only star in our solar system. It's president of the solar system."
"Hm." Violet stares at her. "I'm going to have to do my own research on that. It is only your second day as a teacher."
"I graduated college."
"Not for planets. You said you worked in the rules."
"This is futile. Just come here and let me brush your hair."
xxxxx
"You're the most funnest teacher we ever had," one of them says after recess – and Aubrey finds that difficult to believe. Mostly because the teacher prior to her was Chloe. They aren't even supposed to be having fun. They're supposed to be learning consequences by categorizing the 500,000 leaves they somehow managed to sneak inside from beneath the only tree on the playground. Instead, they're all grinning as they sort them by color onto a bulletin board that had still said 'Autumn Is Almost Here' in the middle of October. She peeled off the letters spelling 'almost', drew four tree trunks, wrote the words 'red, orange, yellow, and green', and expected it to deter them from ever bringing another leaf into the building. But no. They love it.
And it makes her far happier than it frustrates her.
"You know these are maple leaves?" she tells them while putting up a new border as they sort and glue, "You can tap the tree and make maple syrup."
Several little fingers begin to tap the drawings of the trees.
"Not like that."
"Can you show us how?" someone else asks.
"I'd have to ask the principal." Aubrey can't imagine anyone is going to approve of her randomly drilling holes into the tree.
"Can you ask?"
"I don't see why not." The worst he can say is no.
The classroom erupts into cheers.
"You know a lot of things. I never knowed anybody who can make maple syrup. We buy ours from the store. Did your teacher teach you how to make it?"
"No." Aubrey pauses with the staple gun. "My father did." The many 'ooh's and 'ah's make it sound like a much better experience than it had been. She jams another staple into the board. She'll make it a better experience for them. "When you all are done gluing, you can count how many leaves you managed to bring inside."
"And acorns?"
"What?" Aubrey looks down.
Everyone with pockets holds out two handfuls of acorns. The room is full of cheeky grins.
"No."
"Awww."
"Fine," Aubrey concedes through clenched teeth, "What else did you guys bring inside?"
"Nothing," they all sing together.
"Except some rocks," a voice pipes up, "Should we count those too?"
"You can use those to add and subtract." That ought to deter the little magpies.
"We get to add and subtract using rocks? This is the best day ever!"
xxxxx
The entire day goes like that - somehow everything she does is right. It's polar opposite from how she usually feels. They're all grins and giggles and anything that would have elicited a groan while trying to teach The Bellas turns into the funniest thing they've ever heard. It's a lot easier to smile in a room full of people who don't think she needs to change. It almost feels like she was set up for failure in life rather than being one.
xxxxx
"What's a Paw Patrol?" Aubrey asks two seconds after letting herself in the front door.
Beca doesn't look up from papers she has spread across the coffee table. "My day was fine. Productive even."
"That's not what I asked." Aubrey drapes her jacket over a hook on the back of the door and kicks her shoes off onto the shelf.
"How am I supposed to know what a Patrol Paw is?"
"Also not what I asked." Aubrey walks past her to the bedroom. Too many things to do. Not enough time for Beca being…Beca. She snatches the laptop from beside the bed and hauls it back to the living room where she sits down and uses her feet to shove Beca from the middle of the couch to the end.
"Why are you kicking me?" Beca complains.
"I'm not, but I will." The laptop takes forever to boot up. "If you could be president of one planet, not Earth, what planet would it be?"
"Uranus."
Aubrey looks up, stares at her for a full five seconds, then slams her heel into Beca's thigh.
"Okay, okay! Venus. What?" she asks when Aubrey continues to stare at her.
"You know what. It rhymes with..."
"Say it."
"Penis. It rhymes with penis."
Beca grins like she's triumphant over something. "It's also the hottest planet. I think you would be Mercury."
"Why Mercury?"
"Because you're hot-tempered but can also be extremely cold."
"Do you like being kicked?" Aubrey asks.
"Case in point."
"Whatever." The screen pops up and Aubrey types in Chloe's password.
"Do not use Internet Explorer, Grandma. Use Firefox or Chrome like a normal, up-to-date person."
Their banter is interrupted by a key unlocking the front door, and it isn't until the door is open and Julia and Noah are visible that the tension leaves their bodies.
"Hey, Ladies," Julia greets them, "How was your day?"
"It was good; thanks for asking," Beca answers.
Aubrey rolls her eyes.
"Good. What about yours, Aubrey?"
So Paw Patrol is a cartoon. Of course it is.
"Aubrey?"
Aubrey looks up.
"How was your day?"
"Oh. It was good. It was fun."
"Fun?" They all look impressed – like fun is something she is incapable of having. "That's great. What did you do?"
"Organized leaves," Aubrey answers, "And counted rocks."
Beca snorts. "Yeah, that sounds like a fantastic time. Maybe tomorrow you can sort pine needles by length."
"We don't have any pine needles," Aubrey informs her, "Or else I would – and I would enjoy every second of it."
"I'm glad you're liking this." Julia puts away her jacket and shoes then wedges her way onto the couch with her arms wrapped around Aubrey's upper body. "What are you up to now?"
"A girl in my class really likes this show," Aubrey answers and relaxes back when it becomes clear Julia has no intention on moving, "Have you seen it?"
"Mhm. Many many times. Do you have plans, Beca?"
"I do." Beca begins gathering all the papers spread out on the table. "To clean up and do nothing."
"That sounds perfect. What did you want to do for din-" Julia is cut off by a knock on the door and they all fall silent, except for Bark who decides to live up to his name. "You know, I don't think anyone who wants to hurt you would bother to knock."
Aubrey leans into her to prevent her from getting up anyway. No one knows for sure that someone wouldn't knock and then shoot them in the doorway.
"Should I answer it?" Noah asks.
"I think if it's important, they'll find a way to call," Julia answers, "Yeah?"
Neither Aubrey nor Beca answer the question – instead, Beca looks at the papers on the table while Aubrey stares frozen at the computer screen. Both of them waiting.
"Yeah," Julia answers herself and gives Aubrey a squeeze, "That reminds me, Beca, Nora mentioned today that she has some sort news about your old apartment. She said you didn't answer the phone."
"Guess I didn't hear it ring," Beca mumbles.
Aubrey strains to hear over their voices and Bark's barking – for footsteps, for any sign that whoever might be out there is walking away.
"You should give her a call back, don't you think?" Julia asks.
"Yeah, I'll get right on that." She doesn't sound nearly as thrilled as Aubrey thought she would be after all these weeks of not having access to her stuff. Then again, they have money now – most of it is probably replaceable.
"What do you guys want for dinner?"
"Does nobody care that somebody is outside the door right now?" Aubrey whispers.
"We do," Julia says, "But what can we do about it? We can't call the police because someone knocked on the door. It's either answer it or hope they give up and go away. It was probably just a solicitor. They haven't bothered knocking again. We can text the boys and make sure they know to be careful whenever they get home, but that's really all we can do. Noah, how about you give them a text?"
"I'm on it."
Bark settles down and flops down on the floor beside a chewed up rope toy with one last longing stare at the front door.
"Have you put much thought into the programs designed to help hide people who could be in danger?" Julia says, "Maybe we should put more thought into that."
"Witness Protection?" Beca asks.
"At state level, it's referred to as Victim and Witness Assistance, but yes."
"So – what, we change our names, move away, and trust no one is ever going to find us? How does that work for Chloe? She can't even consent," Beca replies.
"I don't know," Julia admits.
"Hasn't enough been ripped away from us?"
"I'm just saying think about," Julia responds, "Weigh the pros and cons. You could get a sense of safety back."
Aubrey laughs under her breath. A sense of safety. "We are never going to feel that again." She stares at the laptop screen, listening for the sound of a car door or an engine rather than clicking on a video to see what this cartoon is all about. "Because we're never going to be safe again. Not me. Not Beca. Not Chloe. Not anyone around us. It's just a matter of time."
"You should get a job creating Demotivational Posters," Beca says, "I'm almost starting to miss your shitty Dad-quotes and never-ending commitment to lost causes."
"Alright." Julia closes the laptop before Aubrey can retaliate. "Come on, Aubrey, you're coming to help me with dinner. Beca, why don't you give Nora a call while we're cooking?"
In the kitchen, Aubrey expects some sort of lecture – instead, Julia goes straight to the refrigerator and begins their search for food.
"A bear once told me that only I can prevent fires," she says when Aubrey just keeps staring at her, "And speaking of fire, I saw a grill out back. How about we convince Dad to do some grilling tonight? You can give him a hand." She holds out a pack of hamburger.
"I'm not going outside."
"Whoever was at the door, they're gone. They walked away – and you're going to have to go out there at some point." Julia gives her a sympathetic smile. "Go ask Dad to fire up the grill, please."
Aubrey takes the hamburger from her hand and carries it to the living room. "Mom wants you to grill." She can't even look at the raw meat as she hands it off to him. It reminds her too much of, well, everything. Her hand falls to her side and she walks past Beca, who is still in the couch and not calling Nora, to the bedroom. It's only once the door is closed behind her that she realizes Chloe's laptop is still in the living room.
She's not going back out there now.
She picks up one of Chloe's shirts from a pile of her things and collapses back on the bed with it clutched up against her chest. Nothing smells quite as strongly of her anymore. She brings the shirt up over her nose and inhales a breath before it completely fades away. If she thinks it hard enough, maybe can will Chloe into existence beside her – jumping on the bed, throwing her arms around her, refusing to let her go even when she claims she has things she needs to get done.
The emptiness next to her remains and the pain of it is too real. She rolls onto her side with the bottom half of Chloe's shirt tucked between her legs. Vomiting blood hurt less than this – and at least then she got to see her, even if it was all in her head.
The bed bounces and Aubrey bolts upright, dropping the shirt next to her. It isn't Chloe. It's just the stupid dog. He must have snuck in beside her somehow. "I don't know why I hate you," she admits in whisper. He really isn't that dirty and he doesn't smell too bad. He also hasn't shown any indication that he bites. If anything, he really seems to like her. His entire backend wiggles every time she so much as looks at him. "Why do you like me so much?"
His response is mix of whining and a yip.
"Oh. Well, that it explains it. Thank you for clearing that up." Aubrey rests her hand in his head and cautiously scratches behind his ear, "I'm doing this with the hand I can't feel in case you bite me. I broke my arm and then I was shot, with a gun, in that same arm, in case you're wondering why I can't feel it. You would think that not being able to feel it would be better than excruciating pain, but it's not." She reaches up with the hand she can feel and touches his other ear. It's more velvety than the hair on the rest of his body and he doesn't seem to mind as she rubs it between her fingers. "You have no idea what I'm saying." It's after the words leave her mouth that they sink in.
He's a dumb dog. He doesn't understand English.
"I have never…felt so powerless or scared in my entire life." She closes her eyes as he licks the salt from her cheek then uses the opportunity to wrap her arms around his body and hide her face in his fur. He doesn't budge aside from a few seconds of sniffing her hair. So many years of building a wall of kevlar around herself only for a literal bullet to be her downfall. The layers of shame that have been building with every tear and bout of nausea that the past few weeks have put on public display don't thicken quite as quickly in front of a dog. "I thought I was going to die. You're lucky you don't know that one that day that's going to happen to you and everyone you love." Being human, being able to dwell on mortality, is unnecessarily cruel. He doesn't understand time or how temporary it all is.
Maybe ignorance can be a bliss.
He doesn't wake up in the morning with thousands of worries immediately on his mind. He doesn't fall asleep wondering if he'll even wake up at all. And she envies him for that.
Once the tears refuse to keep coming, she lifts her head to wipe her face then rests their foreheads together. "Thank you."
Bark responds by sliding his long wet tongue from her chin to her forehead.
"Gross." She pushes him away and wipes her face with the bottom of her shirt and then again with each sleeve. "What is wrong with you, you disgusting mongrel?" They both turn toward the window at the sound of the grill lid closing from the backyard. She's supposed to be out there lending her assistance. Instead, she's freeloading in the bedroom. "Come," she commands as she stands up. To her surprise, he follows her out to the fire escape and then down the stairs.
Noah is staring at the grill, looking puzzled.
"What do you need help with?"
"Lighting the damn thing," Noah answers as he looks underneath and behind it, "Where's the propane tank?"
"It's a charcoal grill," Aubrey points out.
Noah grunts. "How do I work it?"
"Oh, um…" Aubrey looks around and, sure enough, there is a bag of charcoal propped against the wall, "With that."
"I'm not that dumb."
Best not to respond about how he couldn't figure out why there was no propane tank to begin with. She walks over to the bag and gives it a tug, dragging it a few inches across the ground. A few months ago, she would have been able to pick the entire thing up. She pulls on it again while backing up with tiny steps. Halfway there, she resists the urge to drop it altogether.
"You want help?" Noah asks.
Aubrey glances behind her and looks at his feet rather than at his face. She nods.
Noah swoops in and has the bag over one shoulder with no effort at all. "You have your phone on you? Send a picture of this up to your mom. I'm serious." He refuses to move until Aubrey pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of them. "What did she say?" he asks when Aubrey's phone pings with a reply.
"She thanked me for keeping you on track and said she's relieved to see you're capable of lifting things that don't have sharp teeth."
"Ask her if by 'relieved' she means 'impressed'." He drops the bag down next to the grill.
"She said if it gets dinner done faster, then yes."
"She just can't say what she wants to say where you can see it," Noah says, "She wants to tell me I'm a sexy beast."
"Mhm." Aubrey is sure that's what it is. It's fortunate that by now she has the sound of Brian's car memorized and that's enough to keep her from bolting back inside as he pulls into the back driveway. "I'm going to go see if he has any matches." She looks at the dog. You'll warn me if there's someone else out there, right?
"That is a very good plan. See, this is why we make a good team. It evens out the brains to brawn ratio."
Aubrey nods and subconsciously cradles her arms as she turns to walk to the gate. "Bark, come."
He trails diligently behind her.
She'll work harder with her physical therapy. Go to the gym – or at least exercise at home. Even if she never plays the piano again, she'll at least be able to lift a bag of charcoal. She flips the latch on the gate and allows it to swing open on its own. "Ow." Bark darts between her legs then comes to a sudden halt that nearly trips her on the way out.
There is a man sitting on the curb and Bark's hair bristles at him. It's been years since she's seen him, but Aubrey would recognize him anywhere. She grabs Bark by the collar before he can lunge forward. "Why are you here?"
"Who the hell are you?" Brian delivers a follow-up question after he rounds the fence.
"That's my brother." She can barely believe her own eyes. "The other one."
"Aubrey, wait," Liam speaks up when she takes a step back, "I-I came to talk to you. I came to apologize."
"Apologize?" Aubrey releases Bark's collar. "Are you fucking serious? You think you can apologize for what you caused?"
Brian must see the wild look in her eye because he seizes her by the arm before she can do something that will land her in prison. "Bark, inside," he commands and ushers him back through the gate with his foot.
"Go to hell," Aubrey says and steps back into the yard.
Brian looks over his shoulder. "I heard there's a special place there for you," he adds before he closes the gate. "You good?"
Aubrey pulls her arm back. "Never grab me like that in front of my family again." The yard spans out around her and a dizzying numbness replaces her earlier anguish. It feels more like she's floating in the middle of space than standing on a planet able to host life.
"Well, do you want me to get him off the property?"
"No." He isn't JJ. He'll go away without a fight. "He'll leave eventually."
"Aubrey, please!" Liam calls to her from behind the gate, "Look, I'm staying in Seaside. Dad doesn't even know I'm here! Please. I can explain. I never meant for any of this!"
"Until then, let him suffer." She wraps her arms around her chest and climbs the fire escape to go back inside with the dog at her heels.