Page 104 of Icarus

He checked the entire house to be sure, then went digging in the storage room and pulled out his family photo album. He sat down in the kitchen with the two sketches of Angus to one side and the album on the other. Telling Luca and Celestina the full story from beginning to end had made Icarus feel . . .

Wistful wasn’t the right word. But it hurt, and he wanted to see if this would fix it.

There were pictures of them all on vacation together: Mr. Black grinning brightly with his new wife Ramona, thin and tan, hanging off his arm. Pictures of Angus and Ramona showing off their work. It was eerie to see them so happy. His mom was there too, dark hair shining in the sun, sleepy-eyed.

Icarus knew her face, knew the curve of her back, knew the shape of her hand from Angus’s portraits. But she was better in a snapshot.

And Ramona was looking away from Angus in every one. Carefully looking away from him.

The keys in the front door jingled too quickly for Icarus to make a run for it, so he didn’t. Stayed rooted to the chair and kept his eyes down.

Angus came into the room and hung up his coat; passed Icarus to put the shopping on the counter behind him while Icarus sweated. When Angus turned back around to head to his workroom, he stopped mid-stride.

“What is this?” he said, immediately reaching out for the drawing of himself. “Did you do this?”

Icarus swallowed. “Ramona did.”

“Where did you get this?”

The shadow of the paper over his shoulder was shaking.

“There is a room in the red wing of the Black mansion. Helios and I found it. There are . . . a lot more.”

Angus dropped the paper. “Helios,” he breathed.

Icarus felt something shift inside him, from pain to fury.

“Yeah. Do you remember when I said that I felt uncomfortable going there because I felt like there was someone inside?” he said, bitterly. “And then you forced me to go back even though I was anxious?”

“How long has he been in there, Icarus?”

“Since the end of August.” Icarus stood up and closed the album with a slam.

“All of this . . . fucking ridiculousness is probably because of this, you know. So like, thanks for that.” He started to walk away, but Angus grabbed him by the arm.

“What do you mean?” He looked horrified.

Icarus snatched his arm back. “Oh, I thought you knew the whole story?” he said snidely. “Well, far be it from me to assume I would be the one to break this news when I wasn’t even there.”

He flipped open the album and shoved it to the first page he’d seen Ramona’s face.

“She fucking loved you, for god knows how long. Mr. Black probably noticed and was pissed about it. He decided Mom’s situation was the perfect opportunity to get back at you over it. Then he divorced his wife and abandoned his kid and then you ruined my entire childhood,” Icarus shouted.

Angus reared back as if he’d been slapped.

“Icarus, I—”

“You stole so much from me,” Icarus continued. “Time I can’t get back, friendships I could have had, experiences I can never ever share. She died, and I get that and it was painful and it was horrible, but you never gave me a chance to live.”

“You wanted it. You wanted to help. I never beat you, or forced you,” Angus started.

But Icarus pushed him hard against the counter. He felt like he was going crazy. He couldn’t control his body or his mouth anymore. It was all pouring out now.

“You didn’t have to. You just stared at me with your sad fucking eyes!” he screamed. “You never . . . you never . . . I had to learn how to hug someone from a friend. No one had ever held my hand until this year! You’re so fucking focused on yourself and your pain. You’re the most selfish man I’ve ever known!”

He pushed him again, but this time Angus caught him by the wrists.

“Icarus, control yourself.”