stale air. that’s what i remember most about the hospital. things like the weirdly skeletal chairs and cable laden computers on wheels were background details compared to the outright strangling atmosphere in intensive care. memories of a cherry casket and fresh cut grass did little to stop it from invading my nose and lingering in my throat. a handful of trying recollections from when those bits and pieces were all i could think about; sensory feedback my mind had forced me to focus on instead of the overwhelming hurt. i envied that version of myself, the innocence, even if it was a feeling coated in guilt. 

this was so much more real, so tangible and in focus compared to back then. the understanding was heavy in its own way, the knowledge of what and how heavier still. at least when mom had passed i knew that i wasn’t totally alone. now i was orphaned at adulthood, my life on stilts that shook with every tremor of the unsteady ground on which i found myself precariously balanced. 

dad was gone. a stroke. a clot the size of a pinhead in his brain. i was there in time to see the body. sunken. rice paper skin like shrink wrap. ugly purple bruises peeking out from the hospital gown from how he had fallen. i don’t remember any of what the doctors told me. they spoke and it came out distorted, inhuman, and when i didn’t respond they left me alone with him.  

i kept looking at his fingernails, his hair; parts of him that had forgotten he was dead. there was a strange kinship in that, having to remember why i was in the hospital to begin with after i stepped outside for fresh air. did those cells understand their circumstances the same way i did? would they too come to realize the reality, the gravity, of the situation? perhaps they simply faded away, clueless. drained of life by something unknown in a serene and blissful ignorance.  

that was two months ago. it felt like yesterday. it felt like i was reliving the worst parts of my life on double speed as the responsibility of adulthood and the trauma of childhood knocked me on my ass with a one-two punch. wills, custody, hearings, escrow, guarantors, trusts. words i barely knew until the phone calls and letters had poured in at DeLyle. dad never set up a proper inheritance. the only piece of paper dictating what to do with any of his assets and savings had been the original family trust created with mom. the house was in it, most of dad’s money, the car. 

lacey was another can of worms. martha and i had both submitted requests for custody. dad never stipulated who should take charge of her and now it was in the hands of the state. martha had been granted the ex-parte order because i was still a minor during the filing. she was technically lacey’s guardian until the larger custody battle resolved, but it was only legally binding insofar as it created a mandate of care for lacey. a sick fucking joke, pretending that woman was capable of care. it wasn’t permanent and it had very little sticking power on a 15 year old girl. 

my stepmother was late. she had left me tapping my foot in a sad looking waiting room at the office of our trustee, martin. dad’s will was simple: execute the contents of the trust. the meeting with martin had been just as straightforward. martha stood to gain nothing, even through marriage. the house was not partially hers; she had no right to inherit it or any of the proceeds from its potential sale. 

the reality was less simple, more frustrating. lacey was a pawn in this game just as much as the house or the car was. martha knew that lacey had value to me, more so than material things. it explained her desire to keep another hungry mouth around when her easy retirement had totally fallen apart. i expected a fight, knew that she would put one up the second she had contested custody, and since then i’d been agonizing over how i could turn the tables in my favor. 

part of that plan was a paper sized envelope that i kept safe under one leg. a collection of things that made me sick to my stomach, some of them i hadn’t been able to view in entirety. it was a nuclear option, damning for everyone involved, but a card i felt comfortable having up my sleeve nonetheless. 

i ran a hand over my short hair in nervous anticipation. i’d gotten used to the prickling feeling of a close buzzcut in my two years at DeLyle correctional. the look had grown on me like a tumor, taking up more and more space in my own mental image. i’d kept it, despite how much i resembled dad’s funeral headshots. i floated the idea of trimming it, fingers trailing through the sections that had slightly lengthened. habit. routine. 

the door to the offices opened and martha strode out. she was draped in layers of black silk. the ends hung like ink blots at the sleeve and collar, trailing around her body in a form-fitting wrap. the jacket dress managed to be both elegant and professional without giving up too much of her heavy figure. a swathe of lace surrounded her pillbox hat, pulled down to the side at a slight angle. its faux fur rim simulating bespoke luxury. the wrists of her matte leather gloves were adorned with the same material and by all rights she looked imposing, angry. barely controlled vitriol tinged with the right amount of sordid misery. a true widow. 

her heels clacked against the tile floor with pronounced discontent. i got nothing from her but a single steely glance underneath her rhinestone studded veil, discerning eyes boring into me as she stalked past. i met her gaze, neutral. it didn’t bother me; the apathy, the tardiness. all of it was to set me on edge and i refused to give her that ground. i stood from the uncomfortable pleather seat and followed, unperturbed as i reasonably could be. given what we were about to discuss was still fresh in my mind, i was doing alright. i hadn’t buckled or backed down. i hugged the envelope close. 

dry heat and seasonable humidity washed over us as we left martin’s office. the summer sun had eaten through the marine layer, lazing high above and beating down with intensity. it was why i had chosen to meet here, outside, where the only respite from sunshine was the crested awning of kaleem and howards law offices. 

neatly trimmed hedges ran the length of the business park, acting as natural dividers between buildings. a small water feature gurgled in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by a scattering of benches and tables. seating was ample and the space was relatively private, completely private now that most people had finished lunch and were busy at work. another purposeful consideration i’d made. i wanted her to be uncomfortable, hungry, and tired. to feel uninhibited by near privacy, hopefully digging in and letting emotion dictate her thinking. 

i seated myself at one of many identical metal picnic tables and martha settled in across from me. her eyes flicked towards the foldable umbrella at the center, but neither of us reached for it. i took a second to study her, once again offering a neutral expression. not daring to break eye contact until she folded her arms and looked away. 

“how are you handling things?” i asked. a loaded question, something to set the tone and put her on the backfoot. martha’s nose wrinkled. 

“my husband is dead, cain.” she stated, her head tilting back in my direction. “drop the pretense, what is it you want?” 

“i can’t be worried about you?” 

“as if you could possibly conceive of what i have to worry about.” she snapped. 

“i’m willing to give you enough to take care of your kids.” i said, firm, hushed. less confident than i’d intended. martha scowled at me, her expression changing at the word ‘willing’ as though it were a gun i’d just switched from safe to fire. 

“how generous.” 

“contrary to your beliefs, i am a reasonable person.” i said. her scowl deepened. 

“you want your sister.” she replied. an accusation more than a statement, implication buried somewhere with the lede. 

“i’m not stupid, martha, you expect me to buy you out for her custody.” 

“ridiculous and defamatory, your father never assigned a guardian and as her mother-” 

“you are not our mother.” i said through grit teeth. 

“i’m the closest thing either of you brats will get.” she growled. the anger in her eyes was obvious now and she had to physically recollect herself. martha continued in a lower, flatter voice. “i have a duty of care, it would be irresponsible to put that care in the hands of a child.” 

“i’ve been raising lacey for 10 years.” 

“you can’t wait another three?” she asked. the implication was showing through now, finding itself in the corner of her lip as she smiled at me with vitriol so subliminal i felt my skin crawl. 

“this is about her wellbeing.” 

“then you should agree with the court in making my emergency custody permanent.” she remarked. 

“have you started job searching?” i asked, shifting my gaze away from her.  

“excuse me?” 

“you’ve got two, no i’m sorry, three, kids to feed now. you’re looking at apartments too, i presume?” 

“you’d put our livelihoods at risk?” martha hissed. 

“i’m being pragmatic.” 

“does lacey know you’re threatening me with this?” 

“lacey is a little girl who doesn’t know any better, who can be bought and sold with court orders, apparently. this is hardly a threat, it’s a statement of fact. i care about my sister and i want to know she’ll be in good hands.” 

martha exhaled in frustration, folding her hands together. she leaned over the table toward me, lip quivering with barely restrained rage, and spoke in a furious whisper. “half.” 

“of the house?” i replied, exasperated. i couldn’t help but look back to confirm. 

“of everything, liquidate it.” she said, deadly serious. 

“that means lacey and i only get a quarter of our inheritance.” 

“well.” she remarked, putting her hands out. “enjoy the next year in court, cain.” 

“thirds is generous.” i countered, hoping. pleading. the sealed pouch underneath my palm wasn’t my second or even third choice for resolving this conversation. i’d wanted her to be off her game, controlled by enough anger and frustration that she would willingly accept terms that were equitable. it was dawning on me that the approach had only bolstered her resistance to compromise. 

martha shook her head, speaking through grit teeth. “my children deserve a future.” 

“i had a feeling you’d be stubborn.” i said, sliding the envelope towards her. “i actually didn’t want to do this.” she eyed it suspiciously and fingered the tab. i watched her remove years worth of printed photos, letters, and various scraps of paper, laying them out one by one on the table. documentation of the physical and emotional abuse that both lacey and i had suffered in our childhood home. therapy conversations, physician observations, written testimony from friends and teachers, among other anecdotal pieces like lacey’s journal entries. i gave her a hard look, lips pressed together. she glanced at me, then the pieces that were now arranged like an FBI profile. “feel free to run off with it, burn it, whatever. copies set to release with a third party if we have a more…protracted court battle.” 

“this is nothing, this…doesn’t change anything at all.” martha blustered. she tossed a photo onto the table that landed image up; lacey’s bloodied face staring back at the both of us. 

“the pictures are pretty damning, and honestly complicating for me, but i think in the end, even if lacey goes into the system, she won’t be with you.” i said, pointed, pausing to let it sink in. “and you’ll get none of my dad’s money.” 

a silence followed that i could feel, dragging on with my gambit strewn between us. martha broke it with unfiltered hatred. “i should wring your neck.”  

“yeah, i’m sure you’d like that martha. why don’t you think about thirds, give me a call.” i said with a sigh, getting to my feet and rubbing the back of my head one last time. “part of me thinks you drove dad to an early grave for this money and i’m being really, really kind letting you have a single cent. remember that.” 

she didn’t grace me with a response and i didn’t give her anything more than the anger i could convey in that last statement alone. there wasn’t much of me that really believed it anyway, but it felt right, good even, to say those words to her and see the flames behind her veil. this was probably the last time we would speak in earnest and i wanted to get the uncomfortable, palpable fury off my chest. feelings that had eaten away my outward calm seeing so much of our suffering laid out in the open. it was a need, a requirement to clear my head and refocus on what could be dealt with now. i had something much more important to put my focus towards with the cards quite literally on the table, and she was waiting for me at my best friend’s house. 

it was good to be back in the chevy. i’d already been driving it for a month now, but it felt like home. the leather of the steering wheel with its soft impressions where i naturally rested my hands. crap pop on the radio, a whole litany of stuff i hadn’t heard and didn’t like. the uncomfortable driver’s seat that kept me focused on the road. a welcome mix of good and bad, of familiar. a respite from the heat of the afternoon and the anxiety induced by my stepmother.  

i saw her leave ahead of me, speeding out of the parking lot in a rental car. the sedan cut through an oncoming lane to the blare of car horns and screeching tires. i’d be lucky if she actually backed down. it was one thing to drop the evidence we had, another to leverage it, but actually winning a battle of attrition with somebody who clearly had more obstinate willpower was something else entirely. 

my thoughts ebbed during the drive home, pulling onto streets i could navigate with my eyes closed. the quiet of an empty road made my passive anxiety lull for a moment, and i couldn’t help picturing lacey waiting for me at the end of it. she had changed more than i had been able to adjust to since coming back. curtain bangs, a single red highlight in her hair, jeans swapped for sweatpants. my old hoodies worn in place of pastel sweaters; making her brooding, slouched posture, and flat facial expressions give off a morose solemnity that i initially attributed to grief. 

the reality was that she had grown up. she wasn’t the same girl i’d left at home two years ago. to me, whose freshest memories of lacey were dancing in our high school gym and rinsing salt out of hair that fell down her back; it was a drastic misalignment. i didn’t care about her attitude or haircut, not really. if anything, i was proud. the new direction suited her in the sense that it was her and not something she felt forced to keep up with. a natural progression of finding herself and expressing it both physically and emotionally. 

so, rather than stifling her attempts at defining a sense of personal identity, i did my best to show support for the changes. it made me happy; even the sarcasm and the ribbing i’d endured during our short visits, as i packed my life back up to bring it home again, was comforting. hearing her voice, seeing the life that sparked behind her eyes when we talked. that was enough. 

maria’s community didn’t have a gate, but it did have a private road with hired security who ran your plates against a guest list. it wasn’t really official, but ‘community’ generally meant the idiosyncratic tendency to self-cannibalize. it took a village after all, but so often the village was scary, and the powers at be had set to securing the border. 

i rolled my window down and gave the rent-a-cop my best “professional adult” smile. “afternoon. i’m here to visit the davidsons, on tracey court.” 

“license?” he asked. i handed it over, fumbling with the cards in my wallet for a bit as he tapped his fingers against a tablet. there was a brief pause while he tried and retried to scan my license into the device, eventually giving up and typing the information manually. “go ahead, mr. hawthorne.” the attendant waved me through. cordial. i rolled the window back up and exhaled. 

no crime had been committed, i was here for a valid reason, and yet dealing with the hassle of security at the entry still made me feel like a trespasser. a vagrant, at least. i didn’t belong here; that was what the scanning of my ID and the reference of my plates conveyed, if the tall hedgerows and taller fences didn’t already. 

the front drive took me past manicured lawns and multistory houses built from a mix of brick and marble, some with pillars holding upper decks. others favored a more brutalist castle style whose winding stonework capped off in parapets. maria’s house was the latter, with a concrete slab for a deck and boxy iron railings that separated it from the drought resistant landscaping. 

i turned onto tracey court and spotted maria and lacey out front, chatting on the porch and, i blinked, vaping? 

“hey, can i get a hit?” i shouted out the window as the car pulled up at the curb. a very embarrassed looking lacey stuffed both hands into her hoodie, the offending item going with, maria only giving me a wry smile. “you’re a bad influence.” i continued, killing the engine and unbuckling. 

“oh, fuck off. buzzkill.” maria replied, hopping up and skipping over to give me a hug. her flip flops and daisy dukes felt appropriate for the triple digit weather. worn along with a white t-shirt tied into a crop at one side, the cloth knot scrunching it in a way that made it seem like it had been sucked into a vortex. it was cute, summery. a stark contrast to lacey’s baggy gray sweats and a welcome streak of normalcy in the changed surroundings i’d only recently grown accustomed to. 

“yeah yeah.” i responded, accepting her embrace and giving lacey a ‘really?’ look over her shoulder. 

lacey didn’t rush to meet me, she actually turned away from my raised brows and i felt guilt well up almost immediately. i let maria go and approached, ruffing up her hair a bit. she looked older, more burdened. it felt like i always noticed new lines in her face or a renewed weight on her shoulders each time we saw one another. she was older, for all intents and purposes. it was still hard to shake my deeply set feelings of her being a helpless kid, somebody who had to rely on me for everything.  

she had survived on her own for two years and hardened a lot in the process. tired eyes, still blue as a clear sky. sharper features, ones that had come into congruence with a body that she did her best to hide, even in sweltering heat. it fit, her maturation, but it always threw me that she had become a young woman in such a short time. “no hug for your poor overworked brother?” 

“you’re back for real and the first thing you do is yell at me.” lacey huffed. i put my hand out towards her, palm up expectantly. 

“i asked for a hit didn’t i?”  

“you’re not going to like it.” 

the question hung for a moment, but i held course, and with a shuffle lacey retrieved the vape and put it in my hand. a blue cartridge type, disposable and cheap. the end had a bold exclamation point inside a thinner outline of a leaf. 

“lace.” 

“i said you wouldn’t like it.” she huffed again, this time turning back to face me with indignance. i raised it to my lips and puffed anyway, inhaling probably a bit too much. it burned on the way down, not like a cigarette, as if i’d sucked in steam from a pot of boiling water. the feeling redoubled as i exhaled. 

“jesus, where did you even get this?” i coughed lightly. maria chuckled behind me, slapping me on the back playfully. 

“keith.” 

“i’ll fucking kill him.” 

“relax, super cop.” maria said. “it’s a baby cart, despite how you seem to be struggling with it.” 

“she’s fifteen!” i complained, crossing my arms, head turning back to lacey who rolled her eyes. 

“remind me when you started drinking?” 

“and that shit is way worse for you.” lacey added. i resisted the urge to flick her on the forehead. she was still so damn cute, so frustratingly sassy, with cropped hair that fell in messy waves around a face i wanted to kiss all over.  

“wow, uh, this hits you quick.” i blinked. 

“alright, let’s get him on the couch.” maria laughed. “my folks won’t be back for another few hours, so you just watch TV and i’ll put a pizza in.” 

“sorry.” i said to lacey, meeting her eyes. “i’m still in adult mode. today was…hard.”  

“it’s fine. you just sounded like dad and it pissed me off.” 

“fuck, yeah, uh.” i said, tripping over my words until she stood and embraced me. hints of vanilla swirled as her hair suddenly took up all the space underneath my chin. “okay, woah, hi.” 

“i fucking missed you.” lacey said into my chest. it gave me a distinct deja vu, this had happened five or six times already over the last few months. 

“i’m not leaving again.” i whispered, giving the top of her head a kiss. my senses were dulled on the fringes, and with how sweet the air was this close to lacey, i didn’t feel like moving an inch. she pulled away regardless, giving me a pouting expression before grabbing my arm and taking us inside. 

the davidsons had an amazing house. you could tell from the outside, even with the flat walls and square windows, because everything was double wide. a four-car garage, massive french doors in a covered entryway with its own external chandelier. an inside outside, a courtyard really, where a fountain bubbled water onto several flat discs, liquid spilling in droplets over the edges to collect on the next disc. walkways surrounded the space, railed in by the same white marble as the house, more sets of double doors behind them. 

lacey took me into the living room, more of a ballroom than a living space, the vaulted ceiling leering as i plopped onto the triple length sectional.  

“did this place get bigger or am i…”  

“you got one-shot by the pen, idiot.” lacey grumbled. there was a smile on her face, though. she rolled her eyes, kissing my hand before laying it down and walking off.   

i hugged an overly plush pillow to my chest and turned to face the theatre size TV that seemed impossibly mounted on the far wall. it was surrounded by bookshelves filled with encyclopedias and photos of the davidson family. i recognized maria, suspended midair, her viridian outfit gleaming in the middle of a maneuver. the rest were generic things you’d find in any family home, with a significantly higher than average amount of political cameos. 

“man, two years in the slammer and you’re a lightweight.” maria laughed from behind the couch. 

“give me a break.” i wheezed.  

“here, water.”  

“thank you.” i replied, accepting the glass and slurping greedily. “i haven’t seen that one before.” i added, pointing towards a still of Mr. Davidson shaking hands with the president. neither were in significantly formal attire, and the photo appeared to have been taken in a bar.  

“oh, from the campaign run. yeah, perks of being a big donor i guess.” maria sighed. 

“i’m sorry.” 

“no, it’s fine, it’s good even, i’m sure everyone is happy about it.” 

“you aren’t?” 

“well…fuck! of course i am, the bastard she beat, that she had to beat-” maria said, sighing after the emphasis. she paused to slide onto the lounger portion of the sectional before jumping back on the train of thought. “it’s fucking important, yaknow? i hope there’s a second term, even, but like…did it need to be my dad? my family? i already barely got to see them, and then every other minute they’re at campaign events and fundraisers and dinners…” 

“even if it was important, it still wasn’t fair to you.” i said. 

“damn right, but who the fuck am i to complain? there are people out there who would be a hell of a lot worse off if dad hadn’t gotten involved, it was looking fucking grim.” 

“i think you still have a right to feel aggrieved” i reiterated. maria was talking with her hands, exasperated, and i felt guilty for spacing a bit. my thoughts were occupied with lacey, where she had gone, how much i missed that vanilla-lavender combination of perfume and shower product. 

“-so, fuck me if i want one or two damn days where we just, pretend to be a real family.” 

“preaching to the choir.” 

“fuck, sorry.” 

“no, no. i meant it in an empathizing way. you’re right, and it’s fair to want that.” i corrected quickly. “the uh, pen one-shot me, not trying to shoot you down.” 

maria continued to look at the photo, frowning a bit. her posture softened and she relaxed into the couch with another sigh. “i committed to jeske.” 

“oh shit, i didn’t even know you applied, or got accepted. fuck yeah!” i said, sitting up. maria had slouched a bit, and she didn’t seem nearly as happy as i was for her. 

“i was hoping you were still interested.” 

“fuck man, i don’t even know if college is in the cards anymore.” 

“didn’t feel like rubbing it in, i guess.” she said, turning away to hide a twinge of guilt. 

“fuck that, congratulations! that’s…that’s huge, dude.” 

“it’s gonna take me farther away from here than i’d like.” maria added somberly. she threw her hands up, continuing with a forced positivity that rang hollow in the vaulted space. “they have a really good gym program and dad is alumni so…it’s a bit of an expectation.” 

“ah, well…” i trailed off. that was a facet of our lives we didn’t need words to communicate. bouncing from expectation to expectation had been a given since childhood. neither maria or i knew what we wanted to study, both of us had been consumed by athletics and despite having decent grades, hers much better than mine, college was something that we were doing for others. it had snuck up on us, like adulthood, like maturity, and neither concept was something we were ready to accept just yet.  

a silence followed that a part of me wanted to break, to comfort my friend and to continue congratulating her on making it into a selective private school. i kept my mouth shut, though. it would make her feel worse to hear those things from me, and i knew from her mixed comments about the acceptance that all i could offer in this moment was my shoulder. 

“well.” i spoke up. “no matter what, i’m right behind you. a phone call away.” 

“i think the pizza is done, i’ll go help lacey with it.” maria replied with a smile, reaching over to give me a gentle punch on the shoulder. it was a redirection, a way of acknowledging me without saying so, and i let it go. 

pizza. i didn’t realize until then just how hungry i was, how i’d skipped lunch or the fact that my breakfast was barely a bagel and a glass of milk. yeah, pizza would be fantastic. the girls returned with plates and napkins, lacey carrying a double meat with stuffed crust that had never smelled so good in my life.  

“oh my gooooood.” i groaned. maria laughed, covering her mouth and giving me a look i’d gotten maybe a thousand times from her. 

“god, you’re a lightweight.” lacey giggled. she sat next to me, piling things on the coffee table with maria and handing me a plate with a large slice.  

“have i told you about the first time he drank?” maria said mid bite. 

“ohmygod noooooo.”  

“oh my god, no.” i parroted, drawing the expression out like it was painful. 

“this guy slammed two heinekens and then threw up all over jason’s bathroom. painted it practically.” 

“it was a three and i didn’t slam them, i also hadn’t eaten.” i corrected, mumbling a bit with the pizza halfway in my mouth. “a great lesson on the dangers of imbibing.” 

“thank you for the sage wisdom.” maria and lacey said in close unison, breaking into giggles at the jinx. the pizza had taken too much of my attention to care. 

i couldn’t really be mad about them teaming up. it was clear both girls had bonded in my time away and maria was somebody who lacey would obviously look up to. it made me glad they had each other, if lacey ended up half as confident and independent as maria she would become an undeniably fearsome woman. the irritability that had been bubbling up over being teased mellowed and i squashed what remained to focus on the crispy, greasy, deliciousness of three kinds of meat and cheese. 

“don’t eat too fast.” lacey chided. i froze, third slice inches away from my face, and i took an extra protracted bite that received a smirking eyeroll. maria was wiping her hands with a napkin, stretching back out on the lounger 

“blue planet?” i offered and lacey groaned.  

“what is it with you and watching boring shit when you’re fucked up?” maria asked. there was a teasing playfulness to her voice that again dissolved the background annoyance. water spilled over my cheeks as my sips became a bit too greedy and both lace and i hurried to catch some of it before my shirt or the couch could become a casualty.  

“uh…” i said, still hurriedly reorienting from my blunder, to maria’s continued amusement. “it’s calming i guess?” 

“he always falls asleep.” lacey added.  

“i guess we can change it after.”  

“whatevs.” 

“the one about the whales, if you could.” i said sheepishly. “fucking love whales.”  

lacey sighed, but she snuggled up to me regardless and i draped an arm around her. the familiar texture of my old hoodie and the scent of her hair was almost enough for me to doze right off, but i did my best to tidy up the coffee table, stacking plates with my free hand before reciprocating the cuddle. 

i did end up dozing, but not before i got to see some glamour shots of humpback whales breaching the surface. it was comforting, the familiarity, the closeness. having lacey in my arms and maria quipping about the TV, having a full belly and a fuller heart. somewhere in my feelings, about the present and the future, i found a peace i’d been struggling to conceptualize. freedom in the rituals of friendship. blinking, nodding off, mumbling to myself as a slow-motion tail crashed into seawater with forked grandeur, i settled for the fact that i still had love, even if so much had been taken and changed.