CHAPTER 35
POOR STARGAZER
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She had adapted it into a habit now, cleaning up the whole house, and now as she finally ran out of spots to scrub, clothes of everyone in the house to launder, and kitchen utensils to wash, she began to lose her orientation again. She required a pointer, a compass that would show her which direction she should steer her ship lest she would be aimless, drifting in the sea, out of mind and out of sight. Now as she laid on the sofa with the TV turned on to a news report about the reparation of the bridge that had to be halted again as hail came down, she was restless, agitated, alone in her own deleterious company. She couldn't stop chewing on her nails so she had occupied herself by making another bracelet with Nicholas' in mind as he hadn't received one yet, his color was blue and black.
After she had finished it though, only then she realized that he would never want to accept such a sentimental memento like this from her, just like Victor. She wondered in which landfill the bracelet that she wove for him ended up now. She could only sigh and put the one that supposedly belonged to Nicholas inside the plastic box where she kept all her materials and tools for the handicraft, ones that she was allowed to have by Cameron, of course, and reclined for a repose.
She couldn't turn to any of her brothers, not even Cameron as she speculated he was holed in his music room again, after the incident with Victor yesterday, it broadened the gap between them somehow. Could it be that Cameron had cold feet? Had it finally occurred to him that her presence here only induced a detrimental effect on all of them? For she really had been the one that aroused Nicholas' ailments and Victor's panic disorder anyway.
How foolish it was that she thought that she could rectify things as it was.
"I told you, they hate you. You should've just killed them all right now while they are weak. You know that gun that Nicholas' almost blows your brains out with? It must be here somewhere. Find it! Then go for Victor first, so he won't alert the others. He's the most hypervigilant of them all and he's scared of you. After that you should come for Nicholas. He's indisposed, won't put up much fight. Lastly, you'll enter the music room where Cameron must be and just shoot him right then. It's all so easy. You might not want to hear me, but listen to me just this once. There are three of them and only one of you. You will be overpowered once they regain their strength, because it is only a matter of time before they become like your father—"
She grabbed the box on the table and launched it at the direction of the sinistrous phantasm that hovered just near the stairs. It struck the wall like thunder and the contents spilled into variegated shambles, beads splayed on the floor and glittered like they were miniscule stars raining on earth, pure white shells and pearls scattered among them, and pliers and threads slipped away beneath the furniture.
The specter vanished but the wreck remained.
"Damn it!" she cursed herself for losing control. Now she only dug a deeper grave when her brother inquired about her antics. She hoped that no one bothered to check on her, Cameron would, but she doubted he would be out of his music room.
She stood up and stomped her way across the room, as she chided herself for having to clean the aftermath of her uncontrollable bouts. Well, wasn't this just wonderful? She was literally scouring the house for something dirty to clean, but when it aptly appeared in front of her, she became just listless. Stop acting like a child! You're literally thirty-six! Fix your own mess!
She kneeled sluggishly and began to collect the materials inside the box with her hand. At least that hurling the thing worked in her favor to repel that ghost.
"What are you doing?"
She perked up just as she saw Nicholas standing on the landing, looking down on her. He had changed clothes but the way he flippantly dressed himself remained the same, with his long-sleeved cotton t-shirt that was shoved away obliquely to his shoulders. She swore that the last time she saw that bird tattoo on him, it was on his left, but now he also bared it on his right, so he had two? Or was she truly losing her mind?
Her thoughts transported her to the time when Martina had tried giving her those red pills—for her hallucinations, she had said. Perhaps this was why everything was happening to her. She shouldn't have refused them, but Cameron hadn't mentioned anything about it and didn't dole her the same pills after that isolated incident whenever it was time for her to medicate. What was happening?
"Clementine!" Nicholas shouted in front of her and she jolted to find his face suddenly so near to her as he sat down on the last step of the staircase, gazing at her in perplexion.
She glanced down to find his hand grabbing her arm and she shuffled away as he released her.
"You literally froze for a minute. I was about to call Cameron," he explained and it didn't make her feel better as she dropped her gaze on the clutter on the floor, picking up on her attempt at cleaning it.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked as he watched her with a newfound interest.
What the hell is wrong with me?
What happened to me?
What did I do?
It seemed like all of their exchanges almost always required an unfortunate situation befalling them in this house for it to happen. Why must something occur in order for you to speak to me? Why are you looking at me like that? Yes, I fucking killed our dad and Carson and Lissandra and who knows how many other collateral damage there was, but is there not a part of me that isn't defined by my sin?
"No, there isn't," she mumbled through gritted teeth. "You're a fucking murderer!"
"What?" Nicholas perked up. He couldn't make up what she just said, but he was sure that there was a word there.
She shook her head immediately, emotions burst out of her like a deluge, assailed with the sudden urge to explain herself. "I didn't do anything... I didn't hurt Victor yesterday. You have to believe me. I didn't hurt him. I didn't lay a hand on him. You should know. I was just trying to help—"
"Stop," he cut her off, his expression unreadable. "Stop talking, just fix your mess."
She bit her lips to prevent from apologizing, nodding her head instead. She cringed when she accidentally nudged the box on the floor until it clattered. A sudden impulse overcame her again and she wanted to throw it all away, vexed by herself. It didn't help that Nicholas was watching her with his inquisitive eyes, piercing her like knives; her nerves only grew, so she decided to abandon the remnants of the beads and sweep it with a broom later. Meanwhile, she needed to get into her room and compose herself right now. She also had to find those red pills.
She gathered to her feet almost too fast, sending dizzy spells on her head, but she bore them when she made her way past him with the box tucked against her stomach. "Sorry, excuse me."
She strode away to her room as swift as her feet could carry her without looking like she was running, and by the time she reached the third floor, she was panting. She slammed her door shut and placed the box on her night stand as she dropped to the floor and peeked under the bed to see if she could find what she was looking for. The color was prominent, she couldn't miss it.
As she peered into the abysmal fog under the furniture, she thought she would really require a flashlight, but she didn't own a phone and asking Cameron would just invoke his questions. She sighed as she extended her hand and blindly groped the floor there from an inch to an inch, and just when her irritation could peak, her fingers found something it was looking for. She immediately snatched it, but before she could inspect her discovery, a knock resounded on the door, making her instinctively dispose of the pill inside the closest thing she knew capable of hiding it, her handicraft box.
"CC, can I come in?" Cameron's voice could be heard calling her out and she answered with a yes.
The door opened promptly and his eyes fell on her, standing near the bed with a masked composure.
"Are you okay? What happened downstairs? Nico said you were... acting strange."
Her hand fisted on the side that was concealed from his sight. There it is again. What did I do wrong this time? What did I do that didn't conform to the norm adhered by sane people? And when has Nicholas ever thought of me as not acting strange?
"Yes, I just dropped... my box. It's not a big deal." She bit her lips, trying to contain the snarky remarks that threatened to spill from her mouth.
"Are you sure?" he approached her, trying to gauge her face, but it was just as blank as a canvas.
She nodded, turning to him when he stood by her. He slowly reached out, steadying for a second to anticipate her rejection, but when she didn't retreat, he didn't hesitate to take her hands in his.
"You know you can tell me about anything, right?"
"The same goes to you," she mumbled to him as she studied his hands that were wrapped around hers between them. Colossal but lean, the fingers bony and sinuous.
"You know, I want to apologize for... I realize that I've been shutting you out and locking myself in my music room all day, but it's just this... storm." He halted and snorted bitterly. "It's not an excuse but I thought that I was old enough now to stop feeling uneasy whenever I hear it knocking on our house, like right now, but I guess some childhood fear just follows you. I know it's embarrassing to admit, but when I see Nico and Vic hurting, the fear just returns in manifolds. I don't know if I can..."
Clementine's eyes widened, realization just washed over her like cold water. The clouded sky began to clear when her compass finally showed her which way to go.
She removed her hands from his and sealed off the proximity between them by encircling her arms around his waist and holding him close to her. All around them, the fairy lights glowed softly on the walls, altering between rapid and slow succession of flicker, like heartbeats.
It felt like a long time coming. It felt like he had just been waiting for this hug all his life.
He reciprocated by returning the embrace and buried his face in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of home, invoking him with nostalgia of the bright days during their adolescence, of stolen movie night and popcorn, of melted ice cream and savory pizza that they had to eat in a hurry before their parents found out, of running through foothills near their home and just tumbling down the slope with thistledown all over their hair, of making time to skip stones under the bridge and got purposefully caught up in the rain just to stall from having to come home, of breaking into schools around the area of their house, sneaking away from the security and pretended that they were spies from an action film, and through all that there was always one feeling that constantly remained when they were with her, it was safety.
She always kept them safe. She always knew how to treat their wounds and graze. She was always there when they needed someone to cry to. She always took the blame and full responsibility when their parents busted them. She never, even for one second abandoned them, so why was it so wrong when he believed that what she had done to sever their bonds wasn't intentional? That he just refused to believe that his CC would hurt them like that? He would wait for an answer, no matter how long it took, because he believed that the reason existed, and someday it would set them free.
He could feel her shift them to sit on the bed and for that he was grateful as he nestled his head deeper on her neck and she stroked his hair and spine with unmatched tenderness.
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Nicholas' hawk-like eyes watched them from the obscure part of the ajar door. His arms crossed over his chest as his lips lifted up into a ghost of a smile. What about their exchange that sent a feeling of content to his heart? Shouldn't he loathe her? Disgusted at even the thought of her? Wary of her being so near to his brother?
She could literally be hiding a knife under her pillow right now and stabbed him while he couldn't see, but no, she steadily kept her arms around him. She looked at him with so much endearment. She whispered peaceful words in his ear. She looked out for him, for them, while they were stuck in this house, lending a hand where she could and stepping off whenever her presence could do nothing but make the situation even more adverse.
Was that enough? Could that ever erase the pain she had caused? No, no, never. But then again, what was this feeling of serenity that blossomed within him when he saw them?
He groaned in frustration. He was going to run himself into another onset of migraine.
He opened his palm to see the bracelet that he had found under the furniture where Clementine had spilled the contents of her box. He noticed it to be similar to the one Cameron wore and that day in their house in Montana when he fleetingly thought that he also saw it on the table where Victor had sat.
Maybe he could safekeep it for now.
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"How should I not always be at your side with all my heart, when it is so natural to me to share your sufferings and your hopes?"
- Rainer Maria Rilke