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It was the stupidest possible way I could have brought him up, but they were making me manic with their tense, stoic audience. Of course they remembered him. He’d tried to kill me. Twice.
Neither of them answered.
“Okay. So. Malachi. As I think we can all agree, he had some issues. But those issues sprung from a series of misconceptions he had—”
“Oh God,” Lu breathed. She’d already caught on, but I kept talking.
“And it is very, very safe to say that—in the swamp, at that batty old guy’s shack—those misconceptions were cleared up. Malachi even tried to help me. I won’t say he saved my life or anything, but he definitely helped. And once he realized how wrong he’d been, I . . . um . . . I might have pulled him out of the burning shack. ”
“Oh God. ” It was Dave’s turn.
“Well, sure, God. With Malachi, y’know, it was always ‘God this’ and ‘God that. ’ He was hurt pretty badly and I had a moment where I couldn’t help helping him. And then I gave him over to Harry. ”
“Harry. ” They said it in stereo, and I knew they were both thinking back to the regularity with which Harry continued to call me.
“Sure. Harry. And Harry is . . . not exactly rehabilitating him, or anything, but Harry’s been keeping an eye on him for the last couple of years. And, yes, before you even ask, yes Malachi and I have been in semi-regular contact. And please don’t freak out or anything, but—”
“But?”
“But Harry’s bringing him over here tomorrow night because we’re all going to have supper together and it’s going to be lovely
I’ve heard about situations where people have heart attacks or strokes and death strikes them so swiftly that they remain upright for a time, and other people don’t know they’ve died because their eyes are still open. For about thirty seconds, I was afraid that this weird mishap had spontaneously struck both my aunt and uncle, that I had killed them both with the news of Malachi’s imminent arrival.
“Somebody say something,” I whispered.
They gave me another thirty seconds or so before Lu finally asked, in a cracking voice, “What time?”
“Six-ish. ”
“Now, wait,” Dave said, but he said it slowly like he was still catching up—not like he intended to put his foot down. “Wait. This is. Wait. ”
“Weird. Believe me, I know how weird it is. I’ve been thinking about how weird it is for years now. All kinds of weird. But at the end of the day, he’s had an enlightenment and a change of heart, and he is my half-brother. ”
“Well, yes. Technically. ” Lu said it like a disavowal.
“Technically, and literally. Like it or not. ” Then it was my turn to disavow. “It’s not like we’re suddenly best friends or anything. It’s not like that at all. But he’s really fucking eager, you know? He wants to make it up to me; he’s got something to prove. He wants to be friends and . . . and, he’s alone, except for Harry. He’s got nobody but me, and while I realize that this is deeply screwed up, that’s the way it is. He’s coming tomorrow. And . . . ”
Dave downed the last of the drink in a long swallow. “And?”
“And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to kill him. He’s harmless. I swear to God. ”
“He tried to kill you. ”
“Yes, but he was never any good at it. ”
“What about that girl at the poetry slam? He killed her, Eden. ” Lu had hardly touched the drink since I’d started talking, which was possibly a bad sign.
“It was an accident! Look, do you really think I don’t know how bad this is? Why do you think I’ve kept quiet all this time? Why do you think I haven’t said anything, that I just let Dave think I had a creepy long-distance thing going on with Harry?”
“I did kind of think that,” he confessed.
“I know you did. But hey, look on the bright side, right? I’m not having an affaire de coeur with a man old enough to be my grandfather. ”
“Some bright side,” Lu grumbled.
“It’s a bright side. I didn’t say it was the brightest of all possible sides. ”
Lu shook her head like she was still thinking and all this talking was distracting her. “Have you—have you seen him since then? Since Florida?”
