Aliens on Aventine Hill

Lola [Part 3]

Then it was Wednesday.

Gray laid in bed with his brother nestled against his chest, the stuffed wolf between them. A cool summer breeze blew the sounds of crashing leaves and rushing water in through the open window, and Roman shivered and wormed in closer. Gray smiled at the gentle warmth of his breath: I guess this means our fight is over.

His eyes flicked towards the window. The morning sky was blue and cloudless; the sunlight poured in the window like gold and caught the dust motes dancing as they sank helplessly towards the floor. God, I hope our fight is over.

Gray glanced at the clock on his nightstand, and a wave of panic stiffened him like an arc of electricity. He gripped the edge of the covers for a moment, but then closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows.

Maybe if I just fall back asleep, I'll wake up at the right time... Roman burrowed deeper into the blankets, humming sleepily as if to second the idea. Gray stared hollowly at the ceiling. Even if I do, what then? Nothing worth waking up for—he sank deeper into the pillow, into the darkness of a halfway sleep, and tried to ignore the squeaking beneath his sternum.

His brother prodded him awake, "Remy."

"Mm...?"

"It's ten o' clock."

"I know," he sighed, turning onto his other side, "We're gonna stay home today. You can go see if there's something good on TV, but I'm gonna stay in bed a little longer..."

"Are you sick?"

Gray peeked one eye open as Roman felt his forehead.

"Do you want soup?"

Gray gently propped himself up on one hand, laughing, "You're sweet, you know that? Maybe later, alright? I think I just need to sleep it off."

Roman said nothing, eyes fixed on Gray's other hand as it hovered over his sternum. Gray froze, terrified for a moment that the little boy could hear the godawful scraping sound as it reverberated through his hollow chest.

"How 'bout you?" he cocked his head off to one side. "How're you feeling today?"

Roman glanced up at him and then out the window. Gray watched his eyes as they fell down to the river before swooping up towards the blue, cloudless sky. His brother's face was stoic, but Gray could see him grappling with something.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

Roman stiffened, eyes flicking back to him, and Gray shrugged, "Well normally you only come in here when you've had a bad dream."

Roman gave him a look—they're always bad nowadays—and Gray wrapped his brother in his arms, nestling them back against the pillows, "What was it this time?"

The little boy avoided his eyes, but Gray could see his bottom lip trembling. A silver lining of guilty tears rimmed his brother's eyelids—and in a normal world, his brother would've led him with that expression to a broken vase or pull out the pack of bubblegum he had swiped from the drugstore when no one had been looking.

"It's OK," Gray assured his little brother. "I'm not gonna laugh. What was it a—"

"Mom."

Gray froze. His gaze flitted back to the window. His grip on Roman loosened as he realized where his brother had been looking. Roman buried his face in Gray's shirt, ashamed, but Gray just took a deep breath, "I have nightmares about her too. It's hard when she's still so close..."

Roman frowned, but Gray smiled, "She grew up here, you know, in this house. Do you know the long scratch in the wall by the stairs?"

Roman nodded tearfully.