Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits 1.50)

“Aires left me,” I whisper.

She moves her camera so that the angle of her is less sharp horror film and more soft light. “We’ve been working together close to eight months and did you know that you rarely mention Aires?”

My head snaps up, and a wave of anger shouts at me to throw something at the screen. “Yes, I do.”

“Aires must have been a big part of your life, correct?”

There’s this ache deep within. Like millions of paper cuts. The type that happen quickly then continue to throb for days. Except this throb has lasted years, and each morning when I wake and think of Aires, it’s like someone pours alcohol over the open wound again and again. “I don’t want to talk about Aires.”

She nods as she scribbles into a file. I hate it when she does that. It’s like she’s tallying how many times those words have dripped out of my mouth.

“What about Noah?” I ask, trying to get the conversation back on course.

Mrs. Collins places the pen over the file and clasps her hands over it. “Let’s pause for a moment and see where our conversation has taken us. You’re afraid Noah’s going to leave you, yes?”

I bob my head in indifference because it feels like I’m cheating on Noah by even discussing this. “I guess.”

“You already feel like other people have left you.”

“My mom and dad,” I say for her.

“You also mentioned Aires.”

I pick at a fingernail instead of answering. “I asked about Noah.”

“Echo, I wonder if there are things we aren’t addressing. I wonder what you would say if I asked what Aires and Noah have in common.”

My eyes flash to hers. Noah walked into darkness, and it reminded me of Aires.

It’s like there are a thousand voices in my head and none of them belong to me. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

With one click of the button, Mrs. Collins disappears.

Noah

With his legs kicked out on the bed, Isaiah relaxes with his back against the headboard. Beth rests her head against his shoulder and is absorbed in a movie they found on one of the five cable stations. She’s not as green as before, but dark circles mar the skin underneath her eyes, plus she hasn’t bitched yet. She must still feel like shit.

I returned thirty minutes ago to discover Echo missing. I showered, shaved and when I reemerged from the bathroom a half pound of cooking grease lighter, Echo stood near the window, peeking out the curtains. The moment I walked out we packed, in coordinated silence, what we’d need for the night. I zip up my pack and I say, “You ready, baby?”

“I need a few minutes.”

Echo disappears into the bathroom, and Isaiah and I share a glance. “Give me a hand?”

Beth shifts to free Isaiah, and he grabs my stuff as I shoulder Echo’s. The moment we’re in the hallway and safely away, I jack my thumb toward the room. “Beth going to live?”

“Yeah. She said she feels like she’s still moving. I sure as shit hope she’s not sick. I don’t know if states take another state’s free insurance.”

“Give her until tomorrow, and then we’ll figure it out.”

I shove the door open with my back, and the heat of the day permeates from the concrete. The sun’s low in the west, and the blue horizon starts to merge into that pink that Echo loves. We’ve got maybe an hour and a half before sundown. Not much time to set up camp, especially since I promised I’d do it on my own.

With the push of a button on Echo’s key chain, her trunk pops open, and Isaiah and I set the stuff in. “Is Echo okay?” I ask.

Isaiah pulls on his bottom earring before squeezing the last bag into a cramped spot. “She didn’t say anything when she came in. I saw her a while ago, though. She was hanging out in some room with her computer.”

“Yeah.” That’s where I left her.

“Look, bro. We were talking then that Mrs. Collins contacted Echo...”