"I want to know."
Fingers laced tightly, so tight that it stiffened the joints of my hands until they were numb. My teeth grit almost as tightly as my hands did, a smarting hurt that pulsated in my jaw. Not caused by pain, no of course not, but by the sensations of pure, hungry pleasure.
"I want to know the depths of who you are."
His mouth encompassed mine, greedy with hot breath like fire. I moaned at feeling it and him against me, at the force pressed against the junction of my legs. Dominating and strong, he grinded hard. A gasp caught in my throat. He shoved harder.
"All of you."
Reality hit me like a blow to the head. Alone, I awoke in a bedroom with robin's egg walls and Christmas lights strung out all over the ceiling like clumps of stars. Their little yellow bulbs were still lit up as the morning rays poured in through my large windows, the sunlight just short of reaching the end of my comforter. I huffed and rubbed my eyes as the feelings of arousal left me, the consequences of another bizarre dream fleeing until the next night. Until another episode of strange sleep took me whole.
A loud, bellowing yawn then entered the air. Glancing to the other side of my bed I saw the near lifeless body of a gray pit bull, his stalky frame curled against a pillow. His name was Bro, and he was just that to me. A lovable protector. My constant bedmate who slept more than I did and kept me company when I struggled to sleep at night. Already, his eyes were closing to get in another ten minutes, and I smiled at seeing him there, glad that the dog was able to chase away the strange dreams, as well as my imagined fears.
"Let's get some breakfast and call Patti," I told him, ruffling his soft face. He yawned again, blue eyes blinking soberly.
Lying was something that came easy to me. As awful as it sounded, it was a skill that I took small pride in after years upon years of calculated practice. It insured protection or at least gave some veiled sense of control. Lying kept me feeling safe. Pretty much everyone expected me to be back in Seattle by the next day as I had falsely told them, but not Patti. She knew. Patti could never be lied to because the woman could smell a lie better than I could ever aspire to.
Sixty-five but younger than ever, Patti was like a youthful owl. She was small, compact, and marathon ready at all times. We used to run together, but I could sense that she was always going easy on me and not getting much out of the exercise. Her white hair and wisdom said elder, but her unwavering attitude and active lifestyle sang adventurer.
"More sex dreams?" she chimed as we walked about the farmer's market, the bright colors of veggies and fruits scattered about in big bins and crates.
The desperate joining of lips and unholy friction reverberated to the forefront of my mind, but I quickly tucked away the memories of my dream and answered her.
"Yep. Just like the night before. I don't know what's gotten into me."
That was a lie. I've had the dreams ever since I arrived back in Seattle. You see, sometimes I try to lie to Patti for the sake of trying. And on the rare, such as then in the market, I succeed. Or, she lets me believe so.
"Well, obviously you have met someone that makes you desire intimacy, or, at least reminded you of your needs to be physically intimate with another human being. That and maybe you just need to get laid."
My lips pursed. Leave it to Patti to just come right out and say it.
"I don't know if it's that simple," I muttered.
My fingers were prodding a carton of avocadoes, their skins leathery and cold.
"Those might be too hard."
"Yeah, they are," I said, moving on with Bro on his leash and Patti scouting ahead of me.
The farmer's market was busy and bustling, a good sign for the community and a great sign for my inability to hear the wise, yet abhorred honesty of my neighbor Patricia, or Patti, Comstock. As we wove our way through the many venders, stopping twice to buy a large bag of sweet potatoes and some onions, I couldn't help but think on what exactly Patti could be referring to. True, my dreams could point to my need for sex, or intimacy, but no one who could have planted those desires in my head came to mind. The conference in Geneva yielded no prospects and since coming home a week ago I've seen only Patti.
"Do you recognize who it is in the dream?" she pressed, offering me a leaf of basil to smell at a booth.
As I breathed in the fragrance, I shook my head.
"I never see his face. It's all shadows and blacked out somehow."
"Ah, well, I'm telling you, kid, letting your hair down every once and awhile will do you some good."
I withheld a sigh, choosing instead to look off at a table piled with Shitake mushrooms.
"One-night stands aren't my thing," I replied.
"I'm not telling you to be a floozy and have a one-night stand," Patti admonished. "You know that's not what I meant. What I'm saying is that you're so uptight lately. All you do is work and spend time with those kids, which, isn't a bad thing, but it shouldn't be your only means of socializing, missy. Go out on a date. Meet more people. I thought Geneva would be like a vacation."
"Geneva was great. Very beautiful. I even saw a bit of London before I flew out, but in the end I was there for work, not play."
"And you're saying to me that during that whole trip you never encountered a single man who caught your eye?"
The doubt was dripping from her words, and even as she went on about what I should have enjoyed from my time out of the country, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe my lack of desire for people in general was becoming too unhealthy. Understandably, this would pose a problem for any normal person. However, with my past and story it made perfect sense.
As if reading my mind, Patti asked, "When are you going to visit Adrian?"
"Tomorrow, should his psychiatrist allow it."
"Why wouldn't he?"
"Because Adrian's antsy." After seeing her brow furrow, I added, "He hasn't done anything, but he's just…antsy."
"How did he handle the news of your leaving?"
"Well. Surprisingly well. I mean, as good as Adrian can, I guess."
Our small band had wandered from the market and towards another busy street a block over. Families and other parties such as ours stalked by one another, chattering on about the weather as grey clouds stirred above our heads. Patti gestured for us to sit at an empty table outside a café.
"As good as Adrian can doesn't mean much," she commented warily as she plucked a menu from the table's surface. "I'm just proud that you allowed yourself to wait a week before you went to see him. That's progress."
"Thanks, and no, I really think he was okay with me leaving. He told me to have fun and to educate the world on the importance of relating to others."
"Have you talked to Mitzy?"
Ivory skin and bright blue eyes entered my mind. Picturing my sister the last time I saw her was surreal. She looked much better than when she was with Adrian. Her face then and now was so opposite, as if the expressions she wore were donned by two different people entirely.
"Yeah, we Skyped yesterday afternoon. Asked if I could help her move some boxes to their lake house. When I got back from London, of course."
"Sounds like Mitzy. How is she doing?"
"Fine, I suppose. She and Blake were just cleaning their attic out. Oh, and Andy's birthday is coming up."
"Is he going to be six or five?"
"Six. Mitzy keeps asking me what toy will better impact his desire to play with other children, like there's a magic power in Hasbro products or something."
Patti's eyes rolled like the clouds. Anything regarding Mitzy and her parental paranoia tended to have that effect.
"Well, glad you're back," she breathed. "Though I wish you'd treat yourself more than you did while away from home. Praying for you to bring home a man must've been a long shot."
"Its official then: I'm going to die alone. Even God is shrugging his shoulders."
"Don't say that," she scolded. "You're a beautiful woman. There's a man out there willing to breakthrough that stubborn wall of yours. Now, what do you have planned before you go see Adrian?"
The question I've been dreading. It finally had arrived. With a short breath of air, I gathered the bravery and came out and said it.
"I have a lecture tomorrow morning. At the university."
Her icy blue eyes widened instantly.
"Ada-"
"They asked a month ago!"
"You couldn't even wait a full week? You had to start right away?"
"Well, yeah, they asked a month ago."
A huff of contempt sharply left her lips, and I smiled weakly at her disdain.
"What are you possibly going to lecture for the university now?" asked Patti. "They always ask for you."
I frowned a bit, my fingers picking at the table in an attempt to distract myself.
"Sibling relations," I mumbled.
"What?"
I said in a much clearer voice, "They want me to discuss bonding between siblings."
"Sons of bitches."
"It'll be fine."
"Cancel. Say you're sick."
"I can't. Too petty and I'm not a child."
A firm line formed on her mouth, and Patti, too, stared off into the surroundings, her thoughts a mystery. Actually, her thoughts weren't so mysterious when it came to hearing what people always requested me to lecture on. Patti's resentment was practically palpable, its intensity rolling off her body in venomous waves.
"Do you need me to sit in?" she questioned sternly. "To fight off the overzealous?"
I shook my head and reached down to pet Bro.
"No. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Thank you though. I mean, I'll keep the topics general and what not. I don't think I'll draw from Adrian at all."
"But they will. All those nosey reporters and psychiatrists, or just the snobby Psych. Major who wants to prove something as a sophomore…"
"Hopefully, people will be respectful and leave the topic of Adrian alone. I'm sure things will go great."
I knew she didn't believe me. I didn't either. We both knew that I'm more of a realist and that optimism seemed like a crummy fib rather than a stab at positive thinking.
"Oh, Ada," she breathed. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Just buy me lunch. Walnut chicken salad and iced tea, thanks."
By the next day, the clouds overhead continued to swirl darkly in the sky, a storm brewing like a witch's pot. As I parked my car and stepped on to the black tar pavement of the university's parking lot I was inwardly cursing myself for not bringing an umbrella. To be rained on would be a wonderful plus to how I was feeling. Anxious. Bitter. Tired. All of those things combined. To be rained on would be the perfect picture of my mood for all to see.
"Dr. Ives!" greeted the university's head of the psychology department, his mouth tight with a forced smile. As expected, he was waiting for me at the door to the lecture hall. I loathed him.
"So glad that you accepted our invitation to speak," he continued. "We were worried that you would hesitate considering…"
The open-ended drawl of the unmentionable. The trail that led to the wordless question suspended in the air. The understood incomplete sentence. The ellipses held on the tongue of those who craved to know the details of my most personal encounter with attachment, yet were too caught up in the scholarly aspect of the encounter and not enough on the human side of it to bother with sincere manners.
It disgusted me.
"Oh, Frank," I replied in a tone that I knew was causing him to fight the urge to cringe. "I haven't even started yet. Best not kiss my ass too soon."
Before he could say a thing, I smiled openly at my portly colleague and entered the packed lecture hall. The hum of chatter was alive in the air as I stood at the podium, my eyes conservatively scanning the audience. Students and faculty of various ages and credentials eyed me, some with eyes full of the hungry desire to learn while others, I could tell, were already prepared to jump at the mention of Adrian. After checking the time, I cleared my throat to begin.
"Hello, my name is Dr. Ives, and I am so glad to see so many faces this morning. As some of you know, I specialize in trauma, more specifically with children in crisis and whatever goes along under that broad title. Today I was asked to discuss with you all the subject of sibling relationships."
Some of the members of the audience perked up. As I drifted from the podium, I met their eyes.
"Many of you, I can imagine, are well versed on the subject of siblings, be it an older or younger brother or sister. What makes these forms of relationships so interesting is that the dynamics of such a system within the family can come in different varieties. There are step brothers and sisters, halves, adopted, estranged, etcetera. Even within the varieties are subtypes, such as the adopted child who comes from foster care, or the sister that you never knew existed who shows up at your door and lives with you until she is a full-fledged adult. Regardless of the situation, we, as children, develop some form of relationship with our siblings, healthy or otherwise."
"Now, I know what most of you are wanting me to talk about, and that's the unhealthy kind, the siblings whose relationship ends up causing the family a lot of grief. But, I want you to change your thinking while you're here with me. Don't seek out the bad in these kids. You'll get it for sure if you seek it out. It just won't be who the kids are, but a projection of what you want to see in them. Be patient. Just sit and observe."
"You see, I believe that children are like little fish in a big ocean. There's a whole world full of wonder and danger, places to explore that are both interesting and overwhelming. When we, child or not, are faced with something that is too much for our lives to handle in the moment, what do we turn to? Depending on who you are you might say God, or work, or friends, or, as most would say, family. We rely on those who are closest to us."
"Ideally, trauma brings people closer together once the dust resettles in their lives. That is the dream ending to a tragic story, but it takes time, and the right relationships between family members for it to work out. Before we dive in, are there any questions?"
To my dismay, a hand rose in the middle section.
"Yes?" I prompted.
"Yeah, uh, you work with children who are often diagnosed with anti-personality disorder, right?"
On the inside, I was screaming. The conversation was already heading towards a place that I didn't want it to.
"I have encountered the diagnosis before, yes," I answered politely.
"Okay, in working with those kids, how much would you say they rely on siblings? I mean, like to what extent is it a relationship and less of a means to getting what they want?"
"That's a good question," I said. "I personally don't possess the mindset of a child who is diagnosed with-"
"But you grew up with one."
And there it was. The sharpened dagger that stabbed the heart of what people wanted to talk about, the prayers of the psychology department fulfilled. The end of the unmentionable sentence.
"One, what?" I said sternly.
At my question, the smugness that the student had splayed across his face from broaching the subject was instantly removed. Behind his glasses, his eyes were wide with embarrassment. From where I stood I was able to see how flushed his cheeks became.
"If you are referring to my brother Adrian Ives, then let me correct you on a few details," I said coolly. Turning to the rest of the audience, I said, "My brother was never diagnosed with anti-personality disorder as a child and while we're at it, nor is he a psychopath."
A pause. Most of the audience averted their eyes from my sight. The moment of silence was short and heavy, but in my peripheral vision I saw another hand dare to raise itself from the sea of people.
"Yes?"
"I think we all would like to hear what your brother's diagnosis is, according to your own opinion, Dr. Ives. I mean, just to further dismiss the previous, um, diagnosis, mam."
My jaw tightened, but I was not nearly as angry as I was at the second student than I was at the first. The second, another young man, had a more gentle tone.
"This," I began, "is the last question that I will be answering regarding my brother. Stemming from our shared time in the foster care system, it is believed that as a child he suffered from severe reactive attachment disorder. After several years of therapy, it is something that he continues to work on. That is all I will divulge on the subject. Now, moving on…"
The lecture continued, and after hearing the ending applause of those in the lecture hall, I felt a great amount of relief flood my body. Students and professors stopped by the podium to offer their thoughts, thanks, and questions, and I listened to, your welcomed, and answered them all to the best of my ability. It was a blur of sound, all of it, because in the back of my brain, I could still hear the phrase of the first student in my head. "But you grew up with one," he had said with such certainty, as if he walked through the years living with Adrian, too. The second student had later apologized to me at the podium, and with all my might I said I forgave him.
Which I did, but if I was honest about one thing it would be that I could never forgive the first student. I don't have it in me, you see, to give forgiveness to anyone who says something so disarming against my brother. I just can't. Not in a million years.
"Thank you again for speaking, Dr. Ives," said the psychology head.
"You're welcome."
"What's your schedule look like for next month? Would you be able to give another lecture on sibling-"
"Most likely not, Dr. Preston, if your student body continues to be so forward."
A smirk pulled at the man's flaky lips, causing my temper to boil like hellfire.
"Oh, come on, Ada," he teased. "You know that people can't help themselves."
"Well, maybe such people should try harder."
"Ada, come on, you have a gold mine in your own family! Think of all the research you can conduct from Adrian alone. How could you not take advantage of him? He's your twin, a RAD kid, currently institutionalized-"
I took a small step closer to the man, my face directly in his personal space.
"James, if you say another word about my brother or how "advantageous" studying him would be, then I will personally see to it that your essay on the development of PTSD child therapy never sees the light of day, much less the office of the review board of any psychology journal on this planet, do you understand?"
"Ada-"
"That essay or any other essay you decide to shove out from this day on. Is that what you want? Because I can dial Dr. Anderson from the APA right now if you prefer. I provided your numbingly boring department a pick-me-up today, let's admit it, so if you want a smidge of dignity left to your name, I suggest that you shut up and leave me alone."
My colleague glared at me for a slight moment before stepping back and slowly leaving the hall. I watched as he stalked off, my eyes only leaving the back of his fat skull to briefly take in the appearance of an individual who still lingered by the podium. It was a man dressed in dark jeans, a black sweater, and a ball cap that shadowed his eyes. I barely regarded him as I turned back to my things and continued to angrily shove them in my book bag.
"What he said was very disrespectful," said the man's voice. "I am sorry that your family is under such public scrutiny."
"It is what it is," I breathed as my hands finished gathering my belongings.
"Do you need help?"
By then, the hall was empty, save for myself and the stranger I was speaking with. I knew not what at first, but something was oddly familiar about his voice. I couldn't place it.
"Um, no, I'm fine," I said.
Despite my words, I watched as the stranger grabbed my work folder from the podium, as well as my laptop case.
"I insist," he stated.
Immediately, I stopped what I was doing and allowed my attention to hone in on the man in the ball cap.
"I knew I recognized your voice," I told him, my eyes squinting as I peeked at the shadows of his face.
"Miss Ada," he replied with a small smile and a slight nod of the head.
His features were still as remarkable as I had remembered, a handsome face coupled nicely with a peculiarly accented voice. Even if it had only been a few days since I saw him last, I had forgotten how tall he was, how much my head had to tilt just to look into his enigmatic eyes. He stood before me almost regally, despite being without that fancy tailored suit.
"I'm happy to see you again, Dr. Lecter," I found myself saying.
"As am I to see you, Miss Ada. That was not, however, what I was expecting to hear from you considering that you were so set on not seeing me ever again. Also, I must continue to insist that you call me Hannibal."
Sliding the strap of my book bag over one shoulder, I said, "And I must insist, Hannibal, that you quit underestimating me. I always have room for manners. I'm not rude to everyone when I'm flustered."
Together, we walked out of the lecture hall and through the department building. My eyes fixated only on what was ahead of me, and not on the attractive doctor who strode beside my person. The man was just as gentlemanly as I could recall, and I became amused at how many times Dr. Lecter made sure to walk slightly ahead of me when we approached a new entryway, always prepared to hold the door open for when I walked through it.
"Manners are always appreciated, Miss Ada, but you would have every right to be rude after being treated so rudely," he said.
"I know, but then they'll see me sweat, and I refuse to let that happen above anything else."
A small silence followed my words as the both of us stood in the university parking lot. The outside weather had turned for the worst, the sky a darkening mess of storm clouds and high winds. My hair tousled wildly as I observed Dr. Lecter staring off towards the city's horizon.
"What brings you all the way to the Pacific coast?" I asked. "Was my lecture that appealing?"
His amber eyes trailed from the city skyline to look into my own.
"I came to visit an old colleague for a meal and to talk about the past," he replied. "It had been some time since the last time I had seen him, and yes, you were very appealing."
I was appealing, I echoed in my mind. I waited for him to elaborate or to correct himself, but Dr. Lecter appeared indifferent. Instead of thinking anymore on what he said, I decided that I must have heard him wrong.
"Are you here for much longer?" I asked briskly.
That charming close-lipped smile graced his mouth as he answered me.
"I am here for the unforeseeable future. I wish to visit a few more colleagues of mine before leaving."
"Gotcha," I said while digging in my bag for my keys. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, Dr. Lecter. I'm glad that you enjoyed my lecture, drama and all."
"I can handle a little drama, Miss Ada. I-"
Dr. Lecter's words were immediately halted due to the sudden actions of a very enthusiastic young man. I didn't even see where he came from. One moment it was just Dr. Lecter and I talking, and the next my eyes were nearly blinded by several bright flashes of light.
"What? Excuse me!" I said to the stranger as I rushed to cover my eyes.
As my sight wearily adjusted, I realized that it was the young man from my lecture, the first one who was so forward with his questions about Adrian. He appeared very confident, and it wasn't until I saw what exactly he was carrying did I realize why.
It was a camera.
"Can I help you?" I asked, not even bothering to hide my anger.
"Not at all, Dr. Ives," he replied smugly. "I just needed a good picture for my article for the school's newspaper."
"And what article would that be?"
"Oh, you'll love it," he answered. "It's on psychopathology and twins, how in the state of Washington lives a psychopath who tried to kill one of his sisters, and how his twin still visits him at the ward."
Before I could say anything, the young man laughed and took off with the camera, his eyes lit up with excitement as he gave one last look over his shoulder at Dr. Lecter and me.
"Are you kidding me?" I asked out loud to no one in particular. "Ugh, Dr. Lecter, I am so sorry for this."
The man was still blinking the light away when he said, "No need to apologize. You did nothing wrong."
"I'm, I'm just speechless. I mean, I've never been so disrespected during my visits here."
After an aggravated sigh of defeat, I unlocked my car and began loading my things in the back seat.
"Did that young man say he was a student here at this school?" Dr. Lecter's voice sounded behind me.
"I guess he is. He writes for the newspaper, at least that's what he said. I don't know. I'm done. I'm not going to bother with it."
After shutting the back door of my car, I turned to give my full attention to Dr. Lecter, who, had a slight hint of enjoyment lighting his eyes.
"Once again, it was nice to see you, Dr. Lecter."
He shot me a look, causing me to correct myself.
"Hannibal. I meant Hannibal," I said with a short laugh.
"We'll need to work on that, Miss Ada. I'll have you know that I'm currently living in a rental home in the city, and would be honored if you would allow me to cook for you some time soon."
My lips parted after hearing his offer, but I quickly shut them. Caught in my throat were words, kind words, words of acceptance and gratitude, but my old issues, ones who have gripped my comfort with new acquaintances in a chokehold for years, decided to cause me to hesitate.
"Thank you, doctor," I answered cordially and said nothing more.
A mildly confused expression crept across Dr. Lecter's face, as I knew it would, and with a short nod, he opened my car door for me. I slid inside the seat and he closed the door behind me. I did my best to not look at the man while I pulled my seat belt across my lap.
"Miss Ada," I heard him say through the glass.
My eyes flickered to his face, and with a slight smile, Dr. Lecter said, "Tell your brother that I said hello."
I gave him my most sincere smile, and as I drove away I couldn't help but feel a little better. It was what encompassed my mind, both the man's demeanor and kindness, throughout the drive to the mental health facility outside the city limits.
Past the city lights, the tall tour sites, and across the water to Vashon Island lived my brother. Driving there always gave me some time for peace, time to gather up my emotions into an internal glass bottle and hope, pray, that I won't be too excited upon seeing him. As rain started to pour on to my windshield, I thought of my brother. Every day I miss Adrian. I missed his laugh, the way he simplifies things with his blunt honesty and easy temperament. He was my person that I could be who I truly was around, the consistent being who I have known before I breathed. I didn't care what people said. Adrian was who I needed in my life to remain sane sometimes.
"He has been very excited to see you, Ada. A bit more chatty than usual. How was your flight?"
Dr. Adam Beckett reminded me of a bear. Bearded, bulky, and warm-hearted, the man was probably the only person who I trusted with handling Adrian's wellbeing while I was not present. We were about the same age, which I knew would be good for Adrian to be around. He also had this calm about him, a certain power that touched everyone he spoke to. I felt it then as I was greeted by Dr. Beckett in the waiting hall, his large hands enveloping mine entirely as he shook them.
"The flight was fine, and I'm glad that Adrian's in a good mood," I replied.
As we spoke, we walked through the waiting hall and through a metal door. We were buzzed in, the locks unsheathed momentarily so that we may pass.
"I am, too," Dr. Beckett sighed. "He was upset after you told him that you were leaving the country. He painted a mighty fine picture of composure when you were here, but that all went up in smoke after your visit."
Through two more halls and another locked metal door, we arrived at our destination. The wing in the facility was meant for those who were considered not too dangerous, but possessed the potential to cause harm to others, hence the multiple orderlies who were posted by the exits. The patients there were also high-functioning and who required less personal care than those in other wings. In other words, it was the ideal place for someone like Adrian to temporarily call home.
"He's in the main room," said the doctor. "Let me know if you need anything."
After saying goodbye, I walked through the entry way and towards the main room of the wing. Patients watched me from doorways and from their seats, some vacantly staring thanks to their medication, others looking on with mild interest. Turning the corner, I saw him with his leg shaking in anticipation as he sat in a beanbag chair under a flickering fluorescent light. Dressed comfortably in a white t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, Adrian was staring off at nothing, his mind clearly somewhere else.
"Adrian?" I said.
Instantly, his eyes locked with my own. A wide smile then spread from ear to ear.
"About goddamn time you showed up," he half-laughed as he rose from the floor and embraced me tightly in his arms.
My nose wrinkled at the way he smelled. Clean and chemical. He smelled sterile.
When he let go, I felt his warm hands hold my face. People used to ask us if our eyes were black because they were such a deep shade of brown. It was so obvious that we were twins, our hair the same dark brunette color, our skin olive, nearly sun-kissed. Adrian's hair was cut short and spiked slightly towards the front, a look that he's worn since high school. His lashes were even long like mine, and his lips also full. They were turned into a smile, revealing a set of pearly white teeth.
"Have you been whitening your teeth?" I asked curiously, my brow furrowing at seeing him lick the front row of his teeth with his tongue.
"Maybe," he replied teasingly as he let go of my face. "Patti sent me a care package two weeks ago. Something about treating myself and all that jazz."
"Sounds like Patti."
"It does, doesn't it?"
Adrian kept smiling and embraced me again, holding me longer the second time.
"I missed you so much," he whispered in my ear.
"I missed you, too."
The next fifteen minutes with my brother were spent talking about Geneva and everything that led up to my visiting him. We spoke while in bean bag chairs, scooping cherry Jell-O cups with plastic spoons.
"Oh, Dr. James Preston!" he exclaimed. "What a peach he is, so outwardly competitive, yet internally submissive. You know, Ads, I am totally up for him coming in here and picking at my brain if he's so inquisitive."
"I know you are. That's why I would never allow it."
"Ain't my fault if what he finds isn't pleasant."
To that, I said nothing, choosing instead to fill my mouth with more gelatin.
"So," Adrian began after a short pause entered our conversation, "What is my dear twin sister going to do now?"
"Not sure, but Dr. Beckett told me that you were upset that I went to Europe."
The smile on Adrian's face faded into nothing, a blank expression taking over. His eyes then flickered back down to his spoon.
"Did he now?" he muttered.
"Yep," I answered. "You did a great job lying."
"Well, even I'm able to surpass the great Ada Ives lie detector every blue moon."
"I thought you were happy for me."
At that, Adrian leaned closer and spoke with a new seriousness.
"I am always happy for you, Ada. Don't ever think I'm not."
"What did you do after I left?"
Adrian was quiet for a moment, I assumed because he was trying to choose his words carefully. His tongue then clicked in his mouth.
"Well, I flipped the mattress of my bed. Made a lot of noise."
"Okay," I said slowly. "Why?"
"Because, Ada. Because I just knew," he answered surely.
"Just knew. Knew what?'
"Knew that you were getting away because of the stress. All of it, most of it coming from me. And I didn't like that you were leaving because of my actions."
I studied his face, how somber his eyes became as he spoke. Those eyes then became dazed, as if he no longer was looking at his hands, but some strange puzzle. Then again, maybe that's how Adrian saw himself after the incident. Maybe he didn't understand what he was capable of anymore. I didn't.
"Adrian," I whispered. "Adrian, look at me."
Those brown eyes of his steadily rose to meet my own, the look in them hungry for validation. I could just see it dancing, his desire to know that I was still on his side, despite everything that happened nearly six months ago.
"I will never abandon you, Adrian. Not ever. You're going to get out of here, if it's the last thing I do, you will get out. But, hey, you can't go throwing shit around your room anymore. You have to hold it all together. You have to, or you'll be here for however long they feel you need to be, and that could be years, Adrian, years. I mean, you have a nephew to think about, Andy, and-"
"Oh, like Mitzy would let me see the kid now. Be serious, Ads."
My lips pursed at his words, mainly because I knew that he was right. The chance was slim to none.
"Has she tried to talk to you?" I asked. "Mitzy?"
"Yeah, she and her dumb husband both tried to talk to me," said Adrian with a roll of the eyes. "It was a part of their "healing". I walked out of the room."
"At least they tried," I mumbled.
"So did Icarus. And look what that got him."
I instantly frowned at his last statement. Sitting up, I looked at my brother right in the eyes.
"And am I to assume then, that you are the sun in this little analogy?" I asked plainly.
Adrian chuckled for a moment, choosing to look down at his hands again. This was the side of Adrian that intrigued me the most. It was the platform that the scholarly world liked to stand on when it came to diagnosing him, to define him as someone living with a psychopathic mindset. Confident, intelligent, this side of my brother was one that no one ever saw other than myself, but everyone seemed to know existed.
"No," he finally said. "No, in the case of Mitzy I would have to say that I'm not the sun, but the hard ground that Icarus plummeted to. I believe that would be a more accurate description."
When he gazed back at me, I couldn't find it in myself to say anything to buffer his words. Adrian knew it, too, a smug smile lightly adorning his mouth while he picked at his fingernails. Thankfully, he chose to change the subject and led me to his bedroom in the wing. The rest of my visit was spent listening to Glass Animals on repeat and eating more Jell-O while we talked about Bro, the pet he left me with, and how much we hated Dr. Preston.
By the time I arrived from Vashon Island back to my waterfront home, I was exhausted. Beyond exhausted, actually. The day was long and incredibly draining, and as I curled on to the couch in my living room in my bra and underwear, ice cream in hand and pit bull at my side, clicking the TV to life should have brought me further peace. Flicking through the channels that night, I should have felt the stress of the day falling from my soul like an old skin.
That blissful state, however, would not come that night, for when I turned to one of the local news channels my heart nearly stopped. I immediately turned the volume up louder as the anchor spoke on.
"The body of twenty year old University of Washington student Thomas Himes was found late this afternoon on campus by campus security. The school is now on lockdown and commuters are urged to stay at home. All night classes have been cancelled for this evening…"
Bright on my television screen was the picture of a young man smiling happily at the camera, his glasses reflecting the light of the sun. They were the same glasses that I looked past while standing in the lecture hall earlier in the day. The same glasses that I glared into while in the school's parking lot.
My enthusiastic paparazzo, I discovered, was dead.