Out the window, I spot bobbing lights in the distance, moving along the path toward the stables.
Flashlights?
Three…
“It put up a fierce fight,” Aunt Amy declares, tossing her flip phone into the fire. Both JJ and I jump. One minute she seems lucid; the next she does or says something unhinged.
She glances at us, then points at me. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Bizzy… uh, Elizabeth, but your nephew gave me the nickname when we were kids.”
She turns back to stare at the fire. Just when I think she’s not going to say anything, she says without inflection, “I thought you’d be different.”
Should I try again and ask what that means? Engage her in conversation about Siler, the manor, or her duties as caretaker? Or should I take the hint and shut up?
JJ leans closer and whispers, “I don’t think context is coming to the rescue today…”
**
A noise wakes me up. Creaking hardwood floors, the wind outside, a door closing somewhere down the hall. Whatever it was, it startled me.
Patting the bed beside me, I realize Siler isn’t here. Still.
I waited for him until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, hoping we’d have a chance to talk.
Is he avoiding me?
Where is Siler?
Was he outside with a flashlight earlier?
Switching on the lamp beside the bed, I dig through my bag for a robe when the power goes out.
The wind howling outside unnerves me.
Restlessly shifting on the bed, I pull my robe tightly around me. Unable to get comfortable, I gravitate to the window, noticing Aunt Amy’s golf cart is still parked near the entrance.
Do I stay in this room alone, freaked out or look for Siler?
I’m parched anyway. I’ll just get a drink and find him.
I slip into the hallway, quietly pulling the door shut behind me.
There’s a loud clunk and a whirring noise as a generator kicks in. A soft amber glow from light sconces in the hallway flicker on. Voices drift from a room at the end of the hall, the door cracked slightly.
Against my better judgement, I inch closer, catching pieces of conversation through the generator’s hum. “...did what I was… good friend… it’s not selfish,” Siler says, his voice agitated.
His aunt starts to say, “...family legacy… you can-”
Mya jumps in, cutting her off, “...it is selfish… basketball… not about you…”
“...didn’t ask for… she’s not sick any… have a life,” Siler’s back can be seen, his hands in his hair.
Mya replies, “...getting close to… not good… Tullis…”
“...Haven’t you ever… heard of… Cassandra effect?” Aunt Amy’s voice rises and I hear her say, “The most brutal lesson I ever learned is that inside every person you know is a person you don’t.”
Siler backs up toward the door. “I get to have a life, too. Biz is fine. She doesn’t need me anymore.”
