I watched as Elaina escaped upstairs. Biting my lip, I racked my brain for something to say to her, but found nothing. I could see the fury boiling in her eyes. I usually let them get away with fighting. Not this time, though. Still, they knew how much I hated watching them fight. They should’ve known better than to force my hand. They made me do it, I kept telling myself. They brought it upon themselves. I nodded to myself, as if being sure that at least someone agreed with me. I knew, though, that my real motive was the way they mocked Abel. They shouldn’t have mocked Abel like that.
Elaina’s absence wasn’t as unsettling as Ralph’s presence. After Elaina went upstairs, I went to the living room. Ralph followed me. I shivered, imagining his eyes piercing into my back, his fists clenching and unclenching. He knew what I had done too. Still, my teeth gritted and I continued walking until I got to the fireplace. In front of it, poised delicately and carefully, were the two red silk chairs that this family knew so well.
The one on the left was mom’s, her yarn and needles still sitting on it as if saving her place. On the right was the one that dad used to sit in all the time. It was where he would read, sometimes to us, and drink his tea. Elaina, Ralph and I would sit on the soft oval rug on the floor, hands propping our heads up and blankets covering our upper bodies. We would listen to father read for hours, our feet sticking out of the blanket’s bottom lip and our toes being roasted by the fire. I could watch the flames in the reflection of father’s glasses, make sure it wouldn’t lash out and grab at our ankles. I once asked what we should do if that ever happened. Father told me that if I ever saw something wrong in his glasses, I could shout for us all to take cover. I had grinned and buried my face shyly into the rug. It always made me happy when he singled me out; it was my honor to save us all. I had spent countless nights after that staring into his glasses, waiting for the flames to misbehave. They never did, and once I dozed off, I would reenter the world in my bed, staring at the ceiling. On it, the picture of flames would sit. Even when I closed my eyes they would be there. Their dance was etched into the back of my eyelids. That was the meaning of childhood to me.
Now, I stood in front of that second chair, as if about to sit on it. Now that father was nowhere to be found, I could sit on it. I had permission. These thoughts, though, entered my head more as questions than truths. Before I could decide if I should sit, I felt a shove from my side. My feet fought with one another, each deciding which way they should go before planting solidly on the carpet. I glanced around and found Ralph slipping past me, planting his butt into the velvet cushions. My brain pulsed, not actually functioning, and my mouth opened.
“Ralph,” I warned quietly. I didn’t have the heart to yell. I don’t remember why; I thought I had plenty of heart right then. It was telling me to sock him in the mouth.
Instead of writhing in pain as it should have been, his mouth curled into a sneer. “What?” His voice tried echoing mine, soft and gentle. It just ended up as a taunt.
I saw the hook, the bait was enticing, but in the end I walked away from the chair, sitting myself on the floor in front of the unlit fireplace. I curled up, bringing my knees to my chest and staring into the lifeless charcoal. I wished it would light all by itself; I didn’t want to move. And I definitely didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of Ralph. We all knew I had no idea how to start a fire.
I remember that just then my gratefulness for the servant I had skyrocketed. Abel appeared just then, his bulky form standing in the doorway; his shadow was cast just near my feet. I heard his gruff clear of the throat and his familiar sniffs and breathing noises. I imagined Ralph behind me, his head turning away from the man and looking down at the chair. The mere sight of Abel reminded him of what he couldn’t have. I delighted in this and found a way to turn my head towards Abel. The look on his face, though, ruined my hope for him.
