Act 3, Scene 7
It was quiet in the hospital room. I stared at the white wall and watched as the clock ticked around and around, over and over again until hours had passed. Nurses and doctors came in and out but I stayed sitting on the chair like a piece of furniture myself.
It had been a few days since the night of Elijah's memorial and I was completely oblivious to anything that happened outside these hospital walls. I couldn't move or even breathe without a panic flaring in my chest. I was told that our story had been covered in the real newspaper and even on national television.
Everyone wanted a glimpse of the wickedly tragic lives of private school kids, full of murder and betrayal and poetry. I thought back to the words that Khaleel had told me, things are only as beautiful as you make them, including murder. It felt like years ago since he'd said them but they'd imprinted so clearly on the forefront of my brain that I couldn't help but connect everything to it.
Our terrible situation had been romanticized and in a way, it helped. It made me feel more like a character than a victim, as though I was just reading off a script rather than reeling from the trauma. Everything always led back to the theatre and I hated it.
Everywhere was my set now, from my dorm room in Burton Abbey that had been empty for some days, to this very hospital room I'd been unable to escape from. I tore my gaze from the clock for a moment to look at the hospital bed, uncomfy with thin sheets and smelt strongly of something I couldn't pinpoint but certainly didn't like.
The bed was empty and it left a collosol hole in my heart.
I'd barely talked to Henri since I saw him walk down those stone steps to the basement. Something about my brother rising from the dead was difficult to wrap my head around and I couldn't face him just yet. Had he been around for all those years? Had I missed out on all those memories? Was it my fault?
"You can go home, you know." The door opened and closed swiftly, letting in a breeze. "You don't have to sit there like a watchdog."
"But I enjoy barking at the nurses."
Khaleel let out a booming laugh and hobbled back to his bed. When we met eyes, I felt the cold atmosphere of the room slowly dissolve. I hadn't left him for even a second after he was wheeled into this room. Something between us had changed that night. Maybe the trauma, or the panic or the pure adrenaline of it all kickstarted whatever we were right now. I ran my hand through his hair when he sat back and Khaleel beamed at me. I had only one though; thank fucking God he's still alive.
"Where's your brother?" Khaleel murmured, too enchanted as I gently massaged his scalp to pay attention to his words. "Is he really your brother? You know, the one who..."
We hadn't talked about Henri and it wasn't a topic I welcomed either. But, I knew at some point I had to at least think about it.
"Killed himself? Yeah, I thought he was gone too...I don't think I want to speak to him. I mean, he left me, why should I care if he's back. Right?" I shrugged, but it was too forced and painfully fake.
"I know you really love him, Charlie. You should at least hear the guy out. It must have been important. I can't imagine staging my death over a minor inconvenience."
I stopped playing with his hair and instead trailed my finger over his jaw, down his neck and arm until I could grasp at his hand that fit so perfectly with mine. Khaleel looked tired, with dark eye bags and hollowed cheeks, but he was recovering and that's what mattered. His spirit was what sparked through the hospital room every day and I loved it a lot.
"Will you go? For me?" He pressed
I pouted and his pink lips stretched into a smile.
"Come on," he whined playfully. "You know since I survived, I have to write that book now and I'm sure the readers would love a reincarnation subplot and sibling reunion."
I stared for a beat to really think about it. The mere thought of my older brother scared me back into my shell, but I couldn't let Khaleel down. After I learnt that he'd make a full recovery after the stabbing, I also realised that I'd do pretty much about anything to please him.
So, I kissed his forehead and stood to leave. My legs were numb but I shook it off and left just as Aafiya and a nurse came in.
I wandered the corridors slowly and it felt like I was walking through quicksand rather than on these vinyl floors. Purposefully putting off the visit to my dead brother, I took a detour and ended up beside the entrance of the hospital where people came in and out like a conveyer belt.
Among the group of smokers, who huddled under the shelter and away from the rain that poured so roughly outside, was Julien without a beanie on his head. His brown hair was tousled from the wind and he watched the grey sky with a frown. The last time I'd spoken to my cousin, he'd told me that I was on my own. Clearly, he didn't mean it since he was still here now and had been since the night of the stabbing too, holding me so tightly that I felt like recently shattered porcelain.
I stood next to him silently and my heart filled with a subtle thankfulness. Even though I had been so mad at him just days ago, I couldn't express how grateful I was that he was still here for me now. His girlish sort of face had hardened from lack of sleep and food. When he turned his head and saw me, I noticed that he looked sadder now than ever.
"I'm sorry I threw my shoe at you," he murmured and it was difficult to hear him.
I shrugged. "That's not really what I was worried about."
"I'm sorry too for calling your dad, that was so beyond screwed and I'm not sure why I did it. For what it's worth, I phoned him back and said there was a mistake, so he's not on his way or anything. I'm also sorry for saying all that shit about Khaleel because I was wrong. I should have listened to you and trusted you. If we hadn't have argued then I would have been with you when that dipshit Francis and that idiot D'Angelo took you and I could've helped."
I scoffed. "Yeah, right. I doubt you could have done anything except bored them to death, you're not exactly Rocky."
He elbowed my ribs. "I'm being serious, though. I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you. I never would have forgiven myself for it. You're my best friend, Charlie. I wish this would have panned out differently and I'm glad that Khaleel's okay now. His sister was worried sick about him. And, your brother was worried sick about you. Did you know that Henri was still alive?"
There was something so sad about the way he said Henri's name.
"I had no idea..." I trailed off, feeling so betrayed and so confused.
"Well, he's in the waiting room. I haven't really talked to him since the night that it all went down. He just showed up out of nowhere and ran to the basement without even a word. That ginger he brought along with him phoned the police and then we were all down there. It happened so fast, I was sure I was seeing things, that there was no way my dead cousin had just rushed past me to the theatre basement."
Goosebumps had sprouted all along my arms and the winter chill eased its way up my back, leaving me shivering and nervous. "Will you come with me to see Henri?" I whispered.
Julien looked down at me with his swollen eyes and smiled softly.
X X X
I didn't immediately enter the waiting room when I arrived. I stood to the side and peered through the window at my brother. He had angled himself to face a man with curly red hair as they talked quietly to one another, leaning too close to be strangers but too gentle to be friends. Dazed flashes of the night Khaleel was stabbed flew through my head and I was certain I saw a glow of ginger hair that could've belonged to him.
Smoke sizzled in the air creating a gentle atmosphere around Henri, and I observed him freely. The furrow between his brows was enough to show me how troubled his mind was right now, despite how lively the words seemed coming out of his mouth. His red-head friend didn't notice the inner turmoil as he continued on to talk and talk obliviously. My brother appeared to like it.
Henri, though obviously distressed right now, looked more at peace than I'd ever seen him. For one, he wasn't having a panic attack and he used to have those all the time. Even if he didn't want me to see, I did. He also had deep laugh lines that made him look older but certainly happier. He was glowing with fulfilment and I couldn't lie and say I wasn't jealous.
He didn't really look like the same Henri that I knew before. It was as if he'd forgotten every single thing about our life and had adopted this brand new world. New friends, new clothes, new face. But, when his eyes snapped to mine after he'd caught me sneaking, I knew that if he'd kept anything from our time together as a family, it would've been that sharpness.
I finally walked past the window, through the door and into the smoke with Julien hot on my heels. My steps were hesitant and shy but suddenly, Henri seemed even more anxious than I did. He wrung his fingers as his head hung low with shame.
"Henri?" I asked but it came out more like a whisper. A heart-wrenching breath that broke off and echoed against the sitting room walls.
His friend stood first, sending me a wobbly smile and dusted off his trousers. "I'll give you some privacy." The redhead's accent was thick and deep and difficult to understand but I nodded as he gently patted my shoulder on the way past.
My brother's eyes were still stuck to the floor and I stood in front of him, feeling awkward and out of place.
"So, you're still alive?"
My statement brought his gaze back to me. His eyes were wide as they bugged from his head in a panicked manner. He tucked his palms under his thighs and his breaths were deep.
"I'm sorry-"
"You're meant to be dead. You committed suicide! I was at your funeral, Henri."
His face crumpled in pain and his eyes softened with so much sadness that it tore me apart.
"I didn't mean to hurt you-"
"You never stuck around to show me about Burton Abbey like you promised you would. I was so lost on the first day because I couldn't imagine a world where my brother had gone anywhere near those hallways. I cleaned out your room all on my own when Mum cried so much that she threw up. I was all on my own when dad needed me for the visions! Those business parties with creepy old men are especially bad when you don't have your big brother to look after you. It wasn't just the parties, though. I need you everywhere. We were a team, and then you quit!"
My eyes burned but I swallowed the knot in my throat until I felt my skin simmer down. Henri seemed taken aback, perhaps he wasn't expecting these boisterous words to come from his baby sister and Julien was silent as he dissolved into the background.
"I just...I need to know the truth. I don't care for your apologies or excuses. Just tell me the truth and I'll be okay with that," I muttered.
He smoothed down his beard with a distressed sigh but didn't back down. Instead, he looked me straight in the eye. The air seemed thinner when his hazel eyes doubled down on me.
"I'm gay," he announced. "That's why I left. Dad found out and he thought it would be better if I went my own way. He knew Mum would never let him kick me out and besides, I was embarrassed. My own father was so disgusted by just the sight of me and it hurt, it hurt so bad. At that moment, I was eighteen, majorly insecure, incredibly anxious, and needed a second chance."
I spluttered for an answer but couldn't come up with it.
"At this point in time, my visions had become very unpredictable. Maybe it was the stress or something, but I usually had at least some sort of clue but then suddenly I had nothing. I saw a blur of something but no context, time or location or even the person. I was unreliable and Dad cared little for that of what was unreliable."
Henri stood and he was taller than ever but I felt a spark of pride that I at least matched him a little. I didn't feel like the baby sister much anymore.
"I know I've been selfish but as soon as I left all those years ago, I regretted it. In the moment, I didn't think much about you or Mum or anything other than this burning humiliation. I had to leave. I made sure to keep up with your life, though. I checked up on you and Julien here at Burton Abbey and all was well until this morning. Today was the first time since I was eighteen years old that I've had a clear vision of something. I saw you on the floor sobbing and covered in blood. Bobby and I came right on over here to check up on you and I'm glad I did. I just wish I could've gotten here sooner."
Even his accent was different.
Slowly, I walked towards Henri. He watched my every move with that analytic look in his soft eyes that I missed. The same look he wore when my father fixed him up with an especially difficult puzzle to complete, except this time I was the puzzle.
Before either Henri or I could've thought too much, I fell into his embrace. This hug was a reunion. It was me trying to memorise everything about him from the feel of his bones to the smell of his aftershave.
"I wish you would have told me," I whispered sadly. "I know I was young but I would have understood and I would have helped. I missed you so much. Every single day, I missed you. Is your favourite colour even still blue?"
"I'm here now, Lottie. Blue is still my favourite colour, a dark blue. I'm pretty good at rounding up sheep. Chips are my favourite food, fish and chips on the beach." He twirled a piece of my hair around his finger and patted my back. He patted too harshly and stood too stiffly but I didn't mind. I unravelled my way out of Henri's hold and he held out his arm for Julien.
My cousin stood unmoving with wide hazel eyes and a mouth that bobbed open and closed like a gaping fish before my brother grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. He and Julien were almost the same height and it swirled an unfamiliar feeling of disappointment in my gut. Disappointment that he hadn't been here to watch us grow up.
He wasn't there at the town concert when I played the piano for Julien and I's duet. He wasn't there to congratulate us on our test marks. He wasn't there when we arrived at Burton Abbey and got our first role in the school production.
"I'm glad you both had each other," Henri said as he slapped Julien's shoulder. "I've got my fiance, Bobby with me today."
"Does Bobby happen to be the handsome gentleman with red hair?" I teased.
"The one who hasn't left your side until about five minutes ago?" Julien added and we met eyes with mischief in our smiles once again.
Henri chuckled. "Yes, that's Bobby. We met in the city and I've been living with him on his family's farm in the Welsh countryside. It's perfect, you'll both love it. And, you'll love him, I do. I would've married him ages ago if we could."
"Are you staying around now?" I asked quietly.
His smile dropped and so did my heart.
"It's complicated," he sighed with a grimace. "I want to see you both, of course, I do. I've always wanted to see you, and Mum too if she'll let me. But, I don't want my old lifestyle back. I don't belong in medieval boarding schools, I belong on a farm in Wales with my boyfriend in a cottage drinking tea."
I giggled slightly because, even when I didn't realise it, that was the exact life Henri was born for.
"I don't want to see Dad if I can help it, or his brothers. I know not everyone is okay with my...preferences. I wish it were different, though. I mean, it's the eighties for goodness sake! But, I can understand if somebody doesn't want to associate with us. The way I see it is, the fewer people I meet is the fewer amount of people who can hate me. I'd rather just stay away from it all."
"But you'll let me come see your farm, right?"
His lips pulled into a grin and he messed up the top of my brown hair. "Of course, Lottie. You can stay with us for the Christmas holidays if you'd like, Julien too. Bobby's family know about us and are supportive. His parents are cooking and I'm sure they wouldn't mind pulling up two extra plates, you'd be the first family of mine they'd see."
"Really?" My grin matched his as I rocked from my heel to my toes. "That sounds bloody amazing!"
A knock sounded at the door and Bobby walked in sheepishly. "Can I come in?"
"Of course," my brother said softly.
I studied his lively red curls and honey brown eyes. His trousers had dirt tracked along the bottom and his jacket was an oversized blue. The sprinkling of freckles along his pale face and neck looked like somebody had splashed paint on his body. He stood a stone throw's away from us as his cheeks blossomed crimson from the scrutiny.
"You two have that same look," he murmured and pointed a finger from my brother to me. "It makes me feel a part of a post mortem."
I crossed my arms over my chest.
"So, you're okay with us being...together?" Bobby seemed uneasy as he wrapped his arms around himself.
"You're good to him, right?"
He nodded slowly as hesitance radiated from him.
"And he's good to you?" I continued.
Bobby's paper-thin lips tugged up slowly. "Yes, of course."
"Then I'm fine," I confirmed. "How about you, Julien?"
Julien nodded his head vigorously and a large grin broke out on Bobby's face that brightened the room.
Something had shifted. Not just in this room, or this hospital, but in my whole world. It was subtle and so fast that I almost missed it, but it was there. It was like a little knock on the door and suddenly I had invited in all this emotion. So much so that I almost betrayed myself into crying, but I didn't. Even though I most definitely could have. When Henri grabbed his fiance's hand and Julien shot me an encouraging smile. Knowing Khaleel was okay somewhere in his hospital bed, waiting for his family to get here as they travelled on the train. I was fine.
Francis and D'Angelo had been detained. I hadn't experienced a single vision all day, and something new was blossoming between Khaleel and me. Everything just felt right all of a sudden. It was like I'd finally found the missing puzzle piece. As though I'd rotated a building block just a little and everything now fit.
This whirlwind couple of weeks had swept me off my feet for all the wrong reasons. I'd lost friends and none of it seemed fair. The future was uncertain, especially mine with Henri still in it. I felt at any moment he'd slip through my fingers but for now, he was here.
Life was so fleeting, every moment like a polaroid picture rather than a memory and I needed to remember it all so clearly now before I couldn't anymore. Until it all slid away, and wouldn't matter as much as it did now.
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
But, for now. I'd be that idiot and I'd tell my tale for all it was worth.