Chapter 12 - The Empty Space Where the Bottle Should Be
He didn't yell this time. That was what scared me.
After Mr. Harris left, my brother just sat on the edge of the couch for a long time with his hands hanging between his knees. The living room still looked like a party if you didn't look at the floor. Balloons in the corner. Streamers taped to the white trim. The flag in its frame over by the TV. The rug was still damp where Mom had scrubbed the frosting out.
I stayed by the stairs where he told me to stay. I could hear him breathing.
His girlfriend came in from the kitchen with two glasses of water. She set one down in front of him like everything was normal. She'd changed her earrings. I noticed that. Small gold hoops instead of the dangly ones from the party.
"You need to drink something," she said.
He didn't touch it. He looked up at her and I saw his jaw move once before he talked.
"Where's the bottle?" he said.
She blinked. "What bottle?"
"The flavoring. The one you used in the batter. You said it was orange flavoring."
Oh. My stomach dropped. He believed me enough to ask. I pressed my back harder against the wall.
She laughed a little, just air out of her nose. "I threw it away. It was empty. Why would I keep trash?"
"Which trash?" he said.
"What?"
"Kitchen trash? Garage? Which can did you put it in?"
She sat down in the armchair across from him and crossed her legs. Her dark green dress rode up a little and she pulled it down. "The kitchen one. I think. Honey, why does this matter? Mr. Harris scared you, that's all. He talks like that to everybody."
My brother didn't look away. "Show me."
"I just told you, I threw it away."
"Then show me the trash."
There was a pause. The clock over the hallway ticked. I counted four ticks.
She uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way. "It wasn't exactly flavoring," she said. "I didn't want to say in front of everybody. It was medicine. My medicine. I mix a little into things sometimes when my stomach acts up. It tastes like orange."
My hands went cold. That was two different stories in less than two minutes. I looked at my brother to see if he heard it too.
He did. His eyebrows pulled together. "You put your medicine in the birthday batter?"
"I only used a few drops. I wasn't thinking. I know I should have asked." Her voice went soft. She leaned forward. "I didn't mean to scare her. She saw the little vial and made up this whole thing in her head."
I couldn't stay quiet. I stepped off the bottom step before I even decided to.
"That's not true," I said. My voice shook.
They both turned. She smiled at me, but her eyes didn't.
"Sweetie, I know you're still upset—" she started.
"Stop calling me that," I said. I looked at my brother. "She's lying. It wasn't medicine. She never said medicine until right now."
"Stay out of grown-up talk," she said quickly. "Go upstairs."
"No." I shook my head. I could feel my heart in my throat. "You threw the vial in the bathroom trash. Not the kitchen. I saw you."
The room went really quiet. The ice in her water glass cracked.
My brother stood up. "What did you say?"
I swallowed. My hands were sweating on my dress. "That morning. After she mixed the batter. I followed her upstairs because I was scared to ask. She went in the bathroom and I heard the trash lid. After she left, I went in and got it."
His girlfriend's mouth opened. "You went through my— you went through the trash? That's disgusting. She's making this up."
"I'm not," I said. "I washed it. I put it in my sock drawer. In the back, under my camp socks."
My brother stared at me. He looked tired, older than twenty-eight. "Why didn't you tell me?"
I looked down at the rug. The damp spot. "Because you said not to touch her stuff. And I thought if I showed you, you'd get mad I took it."
He held out his hand. Just held it out, palm up, and didn't say anything for a second. His shirt sleeve was wrinkled at the cuff.
"Go get it," he said. "Now."
I ran. My bare feet slapped on the wood stairs. In my room I yanked the drawer so hard it stuck, then pulled again. The vial was still there, wrapped in a tissue. Small clear glass with a black cap. The label was half peeled off, but you could still see letters. I didn't read them. I just grabbed it and ran back down.
His girlfriend was standing now, by the flag wall. Her arms were crossed tight.
"Don't give him that," she said to me. "Whatever that is, it's private. You have no right."
I stopped in the middle of the rug. I looked at my brother.
He still had his hand out. "Give it to me," he said. His voice was low. "Let me see it."
I put the vial in his palm. It was light. It clicked a little against his ring.
He held it up to the daylight from the window. Turned it slow. The tissue fell to the floor.
His girlfriend watched his face. Her smile was gone.
"That's not from any grocery store," he said.
May you like
She didn't answer right away. I heard her breathe in through her nose.
"Give that back," she said. "That's mine."
