Rise of a Queen

Chapter 24

The alcohol must have been too much for Bernard because he slumped deeper into the cushions of his recliner shortly after the conclusion of his so called explanation, body sagged and head rolled to one side, with one of his arms draped over the armrest, his fingers brushing against the floor where broken glass glowed warmly in the fading light of a dying fire. Before long, the last of its flames hissed into a narrow stream of soot colored smoke and filled the air with a darker version of the sweet honeysuckle scents that had previously flooded the room from the choice of wood burned.

    The aroma carried, stronger now that it had been blended with smoke and no longer held the pure smell, and to each of us it brought a dire need to escape. When the feeling became too great, one by one, our group dispersed.

    Dustin was the first to leave. After several minutes of building fury and wearing circles into the floor from his anxious pacing, Dustin stormed from the house and out into the darkened yard, letting the door slam behind him while he spit curses at the starlit sky and kicked rocks with his bare feet.

    Lumiere watched him leave with a deep frown and his own troublesome thoughts bombarding his mind. It wasn't until Dustin threw his fist into the bark of that ever attentive willow that Lumiere rose from his seat and quickly jogged after him to prevent further harm. Their voices were heard from the darkness as Dustin wandered further, Lumiere following closely behind in attempts to diffuse the turmoil tumbling around Dustin's tense body.

    Dustin was angry, so very angry. I recognized it from the many other times when I witnessed wrath take hold of the great Tribe prodigy. But this time was different. Because this time, Dustin wasn't just pissed off.

    He was scared.

    A stretch of silence consumed those of us who remained in the living room. Eventually, Corinth stood from the table with a feeble sigh. She approached her uncle as though she intended to say more but upon seeing him, eyes closed and mouth ajar where gentle snores sounded on every other breath, her intentions thinned. She tucked his hand back onto his lap to keep the glass from cutting his fingertips, then she shuffled onto the porch with her hands folded on top of her head. Brandon pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket, and trailed after his sister with the cigarette held so tightly between his first two fingers that it snapped though he didn't notice.

    I was the only one left, other than Bernard.

    But that was alright, I did not mind being left behind. After what we just heard, we all needed some space; to accept what happened, to rationalize why it happened, and to prepare for what we knew was coming.

    No matter how desperately a truth is desired, sometimes it is the worst gift received because while we may think we want the truth, what we actually want is reassurance of what we already believe as a way of establishing that we were right all along and that nothing has to change. When beliefs are threatened, even the strongest men fall to their knees – sometimes to pray, sometimes to beg, but always to reclaim their sense of certainty.

    And right now, none of us are certain.

     That is the problem with asking for the truth and why honesty is considered so harsh. People do not want to hear the truth, they want to be told the truth only if that truth is what they already believe. We are no different. Dustin is no different; it is quite a cruel revelation to discover that an entire lifetime of devotion and loyalty has been built on a lie and supervised under the care of secrecy.

    Beside me, a loud thump sounded as Bernard's feet dropped from the coffee table against the floor. He was suddenly wide awake, though still incredibly drunk, and pointing an unsteady finger at me, "You. I want to show you something."