This time she moved, but it wasn’t opening her eyes. Instead, she tugged the handcuffed wrist against the headboard, making the metal clink.
I leaned my head to the side. “You think that’s an answer?”
She clinked the metal again.
I spoke through clenched teeth, “Today wasn’t supposed to be about blood and knives.”
She tugged at the metal hard. This time the sound echoed through the room.
“I’m wondering something.” I frowned. “Do you want me to hurt you?”
She froze.
“It would give you more of a reason to run.”
She didn’t respond.
“The good moments we have had will drown out the bad memories. I believe that.” I dove my hands into my pockets. “My plan is to flood you with only good times from now on.”
And there I stood, having a one-way conversation with myself.
After a while, I gave up with trying to speak logic with her. Instead, I considered a new option. Deep in my heart I knew that there was no way Phoenix could win at this. Taking off the handcuffs wasn’t an option, and that was that. So, I would have to beat her at the silent game.
Let’s see how long you can keep this up.
Leaving her side of the bed, I grabbed my wood block and went over to a chair across from her.
I’m patient too.
The rest of the day, I worked on carving the angel, and Phoenix sat on her bed with her eyes closed. She paid no attention to me or the block of wood in my hands.
The sunlight shifted to night. Darkness blanketed the bedroom. Only the moon’s glow filled the space.
Phoenix remained as a meditative statue, unmoving and unconcerned.
My nerves flared.
A symphony of cricket melodies drifted into the room. Other than that, no other sounds were made.
Aggravated, I never rose to turn on the lights. I just carved and carved within the darkness, flicking pieces of wood here and there on the plush carpet.
I just. . .I just want to hear her voice.
I paused from the wood and looked, wishing I could see her expression in the darkness. “Are you hungry?”
She never replied.
I gritted my teeth.
You couldn’t give me that?
I hacked at the wood block, distorting the image of the angel.
Minutes later, light snoring came from her.
Are you fucking serious?
I dropped the carving knife into my lap and leaned back in the seat. Defeat washed over me.
How do I get Phoenix back?
I let out a long breath.
Truly back.
Chapter 16
Memories
CAIN
I
n my dream, I sat on the roof of my father’s childhood home.
When my mother passed, my father quit his job and decided to move my siblings back to his hometown of Flagstaff, Arizona. I volunteered to help him, trying to make his grievance period as comfortable as possible.
But with each day, my father deteriorated more and more. He didn’t sleep. He started drinking. He refused to shower and eat. My sad siblings witnessed his downfall with terror in their eyes, unsure of what their future would hold. That forced me to stay longer and change my return flight dates.
My dream dragged me to that cold January morning where I sat on the roof, trying to get my father to come back inside.
Snow fell around us.
The roof was slanted, crooked, and covered in snow. The gray roofing shingles had been sleek and new when I was kid. After so many years of rain and no upkeep, a few shingles had peeled away, exposing broken apart tar and rusty nails.
It had been damn near impossible to climb onto the roof from the attic window. But I would do anything to save my family.
I knew that God was with me. If it was my time, then God would embrace me within his heavenly arms. If not, then I would serve Him another day.
“Please, Dad.” I blinked through the huge white flakes riding the howling wind. “This is dangerous.”
Far off on the other side of the roof, my father sat on the edge, drinking a bottle of whiskey.
“Dad?” I shivered in the cold. “Come over here and get off the roof. Please!”
“I can’t, Cole.”
My sister Erin screamed from below, “Daddy! Daddy!”
I yelled down at Griff. “Get them back in the house!”
Griff gathered everyone and rushed all of them inside.
“Lord strengthen me.” Doing my best to keep my balance, I scooted forward on the roof. There was still so much space between us. I gripped the edge with shaking hands. “Dad, please get back inside. You’re scaring everyone.”
He took a long swig of his whiskey. “It’s been so many years since I’ve had a drink.”
“Please, put the bottle down.”
Swaying a little, he kept his back to me. “But where would I put the bottle, son?”
“Anywhere.”
“Okay.” Dad threw it in the direction of the driveway. The bottle crashed onto the concrete. “Is that better, Cole?”
“Yes.” With shaking fingers, I wiped snow off my face. “There we go. Now. . .slowly turn around and—”