The Killing of a Sacred Deer #ONC2023

Part II: Do Not Engage

The following Sunday found Nolan driving to the Cropping with the Pastor's grandson in the passenger seat and Callan at the back.

The whole town had been buzzing on end. The Pastor's grandson returned. Lorelei Marzyciel's son. Remember her? The girl that ran away. The girl who vanished into the night. People began finding obscure excuses to knock on the Marzyciels' door and behold the wonderboy up close. For their part, Nolan's Mom and brother had stopped by and given them a Shepherd's pie. Nolan couldn't tag along due to a backlog at the sawmill. Wasn't a lie, nonetheless, a rather convenient truth.

Nolan didn't hate Jacob. 'Course not. If people didn't find Jacob attractive, they at least find him compelling. If allowed, they would lock him in a glass cage and put him in the shabby shack they called Hirsch's Museum of Woods and Lumber. But amidst the shiny, new excitement, a small part of Nolan shirked away from Jacob's presence, hating the ugliness which reared its head and scraped at his conscience every time he spotted Ryan and Jacob side-by-side.

Ryan volunteered to help Jacob around. Overnight, they became joined at the hip — running errands, eating out, carrying stuff. The old folks laughed and giggled. Meanwhile, Nolan fumed, aware he was acting nothing short of a silly, petulant kid discovering his favourite action figure was taken away, being possessive of what was never his. Nolan wasn't the only one paying attention to the grandson — Ryan was, too. Whenever Jacob caught his stealthy peeks, Ryan would flushed, snapping his gaze away as though he was busted stealing. Nolan would react the same. Yet, seeing Ryan blushing and flustering made a bizarre sensation bloomed in Nolan's gut. He pressed it down, but it made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn't shake off.

Still, eventually, everybody took their turn introducing themselves, except for Nolan. Saturday inched around, and after Ryan texted him a singular question mark without further elaboration, Nolan grinded his teeth and pulled his bootstraps. He didn't need Ryan on his back or taken on an asshole title.

So, at dawn, he crawled out of bed and pulled some vegetables home-grown in their yard. He was going to gobble his breakfast, jet over to the Pastor's home, shove the vegetables into Jacob's arms, then skedaddled back in time for Ryan's Bible study session.

That plan went down the drain. Nolan stumbled back to a house full of smoke. Callan was waving a towel, fanning the dense, grey air out the windows. His Mom raised a brow at him, the eggs and bacon he left on the frying pan were burnt to a crisp. Nolan made a face.

"Was on low heat."

"Get a gasoline can so you can burn down our house faster."

Callan peeked at the vegetables in Nolan's hands. "What are those for?"

"Shoving up your ass," Nolan sneered, pushing his brother aside while apologizing to Mom.

However, his brother was a persistent little fuck when he wanted to. He stalked Nolan's heels, and the moment he deduced Nolan was heading to the Pastor's, he stuck to Nolan's legs, kicking and crying until Nolan tossed him in the truck's backseat and hauled him along. He wasn't even surprised when Callan convinced Jacob to come with them to Cat Skinner.

Sighing, Nolan made a note to bill Ryan later. After all, Ryan promised the kids milkshakes.

/

"Thank you for the carrots and potatoes. My grandparents and I appreciate it," Jacob said.

"Yeah. Figured you guys want something besides casseroles and lasagnas."

Jacob snorted — a soft huff of an exhale under his breath, picking at his cuticles, staring out the dispersing woods and houses skimming outside the window. Pale apricot light washed across his mask of a blank, pleasant expression, tinting his nose bridge and cheekbones a golden hue. His hair was finger-swept back. Nolan glanced at him out the corner of his eyes, fingertips tapping against the steering wheel. Nolan didn't know what he was waiting for — a witty remark, a snide reply, a mild answer — despite knowing none would come. Yet, he watched the Pastor's grandson, a knot forming in his stomach and a coal lumping in his throat.