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I call for Gregory and tell him to get the maid to prepare my shower. I need to meet up with the manager of the restaurant and speak with him before anyone else does. An hour later, I am ready to leave the house but one of my brothers is in the isolated living room. He glances away from the magazine he has in his hands and smiles widely.
When was the last time I saw him? I think maybe two months ago?
It's that bad, even though we live under the same roof.
He is the notorious one. I remain silent as I walk away. It's only when I am at the door that he yells, "Have a nice day, Carly!"
Emily
I am working at the grill machine today, and the stupid thing is giving me so much trouble. The flames are uneven, and it hurts my fingers when I try to adjust the knobs to control the equipment.
Sebastian's cheesy scent fills my lungs. I feel nauseous. He yells, "What the fuck are you doing, Emily?!" He turns off the stupid grill machine. "Take it to the fixer."
My mouth is dry as I look up at him. "This is not my job. Why not have Daniel or even Stephen do it?"
We all referred to the repair shop that works on our kitchen equipment as the fixer, and everyone knows that by the end of the month we usually have several broken items that we haul to them for fixing.
Sebastian is in no mood to haggle. "It's either you take it to him, or you're fired."
"Call him over then?!" I am relentless. He glares at me. His mouth is set in a thin line. The widening of his nose as he breathes is enough to tell me how much his rage has grown.
"Ah, don't worry, Emily. I'll take it to the fixer." Maya comes to my side. She tries to pull me away from Sebastian. I feel so much resentment for him, but at the end of the day, I am left at his mercy. I can't do anything about it.
"Don't worry, Maya. I'll go," I say with a hint of anger. She notices my tone and backs away. Maya knows when it’s time to let me be.
I do know the right time to lose my cool, but I'll let it slide this time because the Cuisine is all I have.
Unfortunately, Paul gets to assist me in loading the machine into the van. He grazes my fingers any chance he gets. I pretend not to notice the sexual suggestion.
The truck driver, Henry, is nowhere in sight, but he must be hanging around somewhere. Paul shrugs and makes his way back into the restaurant. With burning frustration, I march around the restaurant, down the pedestrian walkway, into the alley, and by the nearby buildings to search for him. I have walked several blocks away from the restaurant when I decide that I can't take it anymore. My inability to express my discomfort, the unavailability of the driver, coupled with the rising heat that warms my skin, makes me feel like I’m about to snap in two.
I take a deep breath in and blow it out slowly, then I head back to the Mano. I am almost halfway there when I notice Mike's truck driving into the parking space. My hands lift and I wave; he can't see me.
My feet move faster. I know that I need his warmth to unclog the rage that has bit into my nerves.
There is a guitarist ambling down the road. He seems to have lost something, a coin maybe. I truly do not care. I don't like the harsh attention of the sun on my skin.
"Looking for me, sweetheart?" I hear a chuckle by my left. I know it's him; he always speaks with a lazy drawl—Henry.
"Come on, we need to head to the shop. The grilling machine needs fixing," I utter. He groans, and adjusts his wide brimmed hat. Henry is a very large man who always carries a bottle of whisky in his hands. He tips the bottle up, draining what is left. "Sebastian could have just called—"
He never gets to finish. Maybe he does, but a deafening sound prevents me from catching the rest of his words. Shards of glass dance in the sky. There is a mushroom cloud up ahead.
Heat, fire, and smoke—I am struggling to breathe or stay on my feet.
A scorching heat has me shielding my face with my arms. Henry is yelling beside me. He leaps, and his body falls on me.
I can't breathe.
I can't breathe.
I am suffocating.
He doesn't budge. A sonic rumble shakes the earth one more time. I hear screams coming from all corners of the street and painful cries for help as glass keeps shattering.
Something burns; I can smell the smoke even through Henry's stink.
It's still so hard to breathe. I am trying to kick him away, to find the source of the sound.
