fun.â
âWhat was?â
âStomping those fools.â
âWhat did you do to Rodney?â
âI gained some respect for him today,â says Hank. âHe didnât have to square up with me. Iâd already whupped the other dumb asses. But he wanted to take a go. It was impressive.â
âDoes he need a doctor?â
âHeâs needed a doctor ever since the balloon.â
âYou know what Iâm asking.â
âHeâs fine, Baby Sis. Heâll have a headache, but these things happen.â
Sara swells with conflicting sensations, a different kind of conjoined twins. On one hand, sheâs happy that Felix got hooked, glad that the buffoon learned that there are consequences for being nasty. But she has guilt now, too. Some shame that itâs her fault that Rodney got hurt. Sheâll apologize. Itâs easy to be honest with him because she once loved him, probably still does deep down, in some unhelpful ways. Theyâd still be dating if heâd never mounted that balloon, and because of that he deserves the truth.
And so does her brother, her protector. She loves the fact that he went down there for her. She loves that thereâs no thinking with Hank, no weighing the pros and cons, no looking at problems from all sides and selecting the prudent course.
No, Hank only leaps.
He loves her and he leaps.
He loves her and he leaps and she is protected.
Itâs going to be a hard conversation, but Sara has to be strong. Heâs been strong for her, and Sara has to meet his brawn with some of her own.
âThereâs something I need to tell you, Hank,â says Sara. âIâm sorry this happened, but you should hear it from me.â
Her brotherâs face, its mass of freckles and moles and some acne from the steroids, has a tenderness to it that Sara hadnât expected to see. Normally, he wears his rage like war paint, but now he looks gentle and concerned.
âEveryone already knows,â he says, shrugging his shoulders.
âYou know?â
âIâll beat Natâs ass for you,â says Hank. âWanna beer?â
âSure.â
He gets two more out of the fridge, and they sit at the sticky kitchen table. âYou okay?â he asks.
âI ruined my life.â
The dog rests his head on Hankâs huge thigh. âDonât say that.â
âWhatâs left for me?â
Hank rubs Bernardâs head. âWhy are you asking that, Baby Sis?â
Sara loves it when he calls her that. Baby Sis. So familial. What you call someone you love, no matter what they do.
âI trusted Nat,â Sara says, checking her phone again to see if heâs responded to her texts, which he hasnât. She sets the phone on the table next to the pile of fingernails and turns it over so she canât see its teasing face. âIâm so stupid.â
âYou canât ruin your life, Sara, because our lives were already pretty ruined.â
âDonât say our lives are ruined.â
âPretty ruined.â
âThatâs not better,â she says.
âLook around,â Hank says, pointing toward the squalor drenching their house, and right on cue the fridge burps and snorts. âThis ainât the Ritz. Hell, people probably thought youâd have six sex tapes by now.â
For the first time all day, Sara laughs. For the first time since hearing about what Nat had done, sheâs unaware of her body. Sheâs not thinking about her vibrating hands. Sheâs unaware that her heart has slowed to its normal resting rate.
The laughter is pure. It is encompassing, taking over all of her conscious mind, freeing her. For that moment she is a human being without a digital twin. She has no mirror in cyberspace. Hers is an identity unmarred by technology. Sara is a laughing woman drinking a beer with her brother.
âSix sex tapes!â she says, leaning over and punching
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham