The House Above the Sea

8.

"Look, it's not—it's just my ex: Abigail. I don't know for sure that she'll be there, of course. But if she is I won't want to talk to her and you will be an amazing excuse."

"Oh?" Neo taunts. He snatches a tissue from its box on the coffee table and wipes Olivia's ice cream-stained face. "How's that? 'Uhhh, sorry gotta go, my younger cousin's blackout drunk and I'm supposed to look after him?'"

A breath of quiet. Even the vegetables have stopped singing.

"Well, yeah," Joey says. "That sounds convincing enough."

Neo closes his eyes. It's not that he's never been to a party before—he has plenty of times back in New York, the sort of hazy nights that passed in a blur of dark hallways and smuggled spirits and music so thunderous it rattled his eardrums. He's been drunk before, even, so drunk he doesn't know what he's saying, doesn't know if he wants to pass out or make out with someone or start a fight. It's more that after seeing his mother lost like that, eyes glossy and distant—a different medium, albeit, but so similar an effect—that he's not sure he wants to ever go back there again.

"I don't understand," says Neo. He's suddenly lost his appetite; something about the mint chocolate chip ice cream seems fake, animated, too bright now. "If you're so worried about seeing your ex, why go anyway?"

"Because it'll be fun. And that's what you're supposed to do before you go off to college. Have fun. Do crazy shit and then lie about it. At least that's what they do in the movies."

Such sound logic! Neo thinks. "Joey," he says, shoving the lid back on the pint. When Olivia's eyes go wide and she makes a sad cooing noise, Neo just sighs and pats her head. "I don't like this."

"You can't just—do this all summer," Joey counters, and when Neo just stares at him, perplexed, he goes on: "Like, go work at the fish market and then come home and stargaze or whatever the hell you do up there on the roof. Don't get me wrong, Neo. I know you'd rather not be here, but while you are here, why not make the most of it? Who knows. You might learn something."

Neo's face crinkles into a laugh. "Now who sounds like their dad?" He drops his voice comically low and repeats, hands on his hips: "You might learn something. Oh. Such wise words! Thank you, you sage fellow!"

Before Neo much registers what's happened, a pillow smacks him squarely in the face. He leans back, a surprised laugh at the end of his breath. "What the hell was that for!"

"Shut up!" Joey yells, but he's laughing, and now Olivia's laughing, clapping her hands together as if she derives pleasure from Neo's pain. "Shut up and say you'll go with me!"

Neo's mouth starts to form the word No, but Joey lifts the pillow again and finally he has to give in.

"Fine," Neo says, ignoring the shout of glee Joey lets out. "I'll go. But I'm not guaranteeing I'll stay very long."

"Oh, you're wonderful. I love you. You're my favorite cousin."

Neo bugs his eyes out at him. "I better be. I've never wasted as much time with any of my cousins as I have with you."

Joey raises the pillow—Neo yelps in protest—but then, sighing, lowers it once again. "You know what, Neo?" he says, winking at him. "I'm choosing to take that as a compliment."

Neo puts Olivia to bed at seven—how babies fall asleep when the sun's still shimmering in the sky is beyond him—and the rest of the night stretches, endless, before him.

If he were more reckless, Neo thinks, more like the guys he hangs out with back home who regularly sneak out at night and go clubbing or take midnight trips to fast food places or do whatever the hell they want—he would be gone already. The thought of Kit alone in that house, a small person in a big empty place, frightens Neo like he has never been frightened before. He's awake, electric, galvanized, and in a novel way he's never felt for any of his other friends. Likely because none of his other friends inhabit abandoned houses.

On his way back to his and Joey's room, Neo stops at the head of the stairs. He could. It would be so easy to slip away without a sound. But his conscience, like it always does, gets in the way. It wouldn't be fair to Joey if he just jetted off.

So Neo turns to head into the bedroom, sighing. He just hopes Kit found a good jacket.

When the door falls open, Joey is leaned over the desk, curly head bent low, as if he's peering at something. He's still for a moment, but then he turns and the overhead light glints against the stolen diamond ring between his fingers.

Neo's heart seizes. He snatches the ring from Joey's hands. "Don't touch that! What were you poking around for, anyway?"

"I lost my earphones. I thought maybe I shoved them in the desk drawer somewhere..." Joey says, his arms lifted in mock surrender. He starts to speak, but stops again when he notices the terror on Neo's face. "Sorry. I didn't know it was yours. What....what is it?"

Neo shoves it in his pocket, letting a sigh of relief escape from his chest as he collapses face down on his bed. Voice muffled, he tells Joey, "It's nothing."

"I'm not an idiot, Neo." His voice sounds closer; Neo turns his head and finds Joey leaning against the wall beside him, green eyes bright with curiosity. "I can tell when something's a lot more than nothing."

"I can't..." Neo groans and buries his face in the pillows, freshly lavender -scented. Aunt Vivian must not have been able to take it anymore. "Just don't tell anyone about it, okay, Joey? And I don't—I don't want to talk about it."
There's a low shuffle of bare feet across a soft rug; when Joey speaks again, his voice is further away. "You know, Neo. I've realized something."

Neo lifts his head, brushing his dark hair from his eyes. "What?"

Joey's on the floor, his back to the bed frame, knobby knees drawn up to his chest. He tilts his head ever so slightly, like he's lost in thought. "We don't really know a thing about each other, do we?"

Neo doesn't like the cool pinpricks that trace his spine at Joey's words. He says, uneasily, "I don't think that's a bad thing. I mean, we've been so far away until now."

For a second Joey is silent, as if processing something, but then he twitches back into action, nodding his head. "Yeah. No. Of course. I just—"

Neo sits up. "You just?"

"I just...sorta wish you still weren't so far away, you know?" Joey says, then shakes his head. "Nevermind. Ignore me."

But every nerve in Neo's teenage form is urging him to do exactly the opposite. He knows broken people—he is one himself. He's used to the differing angles of their faults and the varying shapes of their shards; he knows what their voice sounds like when they are not completely whole yet.

And that is just how his cousin sounds.

Neo says, "Joey?"

Joey looks up, questioning, but it's at that moment a deafening wail sounds from the baby monitor. As Joey grunts and gets to his feet, heading in the direction of the nursery, whatever words Neo was going to say die on his lips.