𝗔𝗰𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀

Twenty-Two

Rebecca Caruso

As I lay there in bed, my imagination ran wild, mustering vivid scenarios of my face seemingly disintegrating into fragments, revealing a monstrous being lurking beneath. I found myself engulfed in unsettling visions, surrounded by a crowd of people, each rectifying me with accusatory, wide brimstone eyes.

I attempted to speak, to explain myself, but my voice vanished amidst the chaos. Each lie I uttered appeared to disintegrate into a red cloud of heavy dust.

Suddenly, Marco appeared out of nowhere, his face a blend of disappointment and betrayal. "I trusted you," he said, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness that surrounded me.

Christopher's, Robert's, and Rafael's voices harmonized in unison, accusingly repeating, "How could you do this to me? To us?"

I mustered a helpless reply, "How could I? You're the ones pulling the strings." But to my dismay, nothing changed, and my words only dissipated into the void.

Desperation drove me to reach out to Marco, frantic to explain, but he stepped back, putting distance between us, clearly viewing me as the very monster I had become.

The ground beneath my feet crumbled, and I felt myself falling into an abyss of darkness; a bottomless pit of nothingness. It was as if the very foundation of my identity was disintegrating, leaving nothing but a void of lies and deception...

....

....

I jolted awake, the line between reality and imagination blurred until I found myself questioning whether I was awake or still trapped in a dream. The nightmare had felt so real, leaving a haunting residue. Taking a deep breath, I attempted to shake off the lingering dread. However, reality dawned-I was still deceiving those around me.

"I trusted you..." Marco's fictional words echoed hauntingly in my mind.

With the feeble light of morning seeping through the curtains, I reluctantly opened my heavy eyelids. The weariness of the night hung over me like a suffocating shroud.

"Chris?" I mumbled, my voice betraying the exhaustion that clung to me.

Silence greeted my inquiry, emphasizing the solitude of the room. As I attempted to rise from the disheveled bed, my limbs protested, weighed down by the toll of restless sleep. The clock on the nightstand revealed the unforgiving truth-it was already 9:40 AM, the day had begun without me.

I slid back under the covers. They were like a cozy hug, so warm and inviting. In that moment, the thought of making a lifelong commitment to the comfort cocoon crossed my mind-a blissful escape from the chaos beyond the blankets. But, just as I was about to fully embrace my lazy dreams, a sudden reminder crashed the tranquility.

"Shit, brunch with Marco!"

The words echoed in my mind, an unwelcome reminder of commitments I had momentarily forgotten. My comfort cocoon instantly transformed into a panic pod, and there I was, caught between the allure of warm sheets and the obligations of a covert brunch.

Hurrying to the bathroom, I grabbed my toothbrush, fueled by a determined sense of urgency. In the shower, I deftly multitasked, accomplishing three things at once-a feat that even George Costanza might nod approvingly at.

Racing against the clock, I darted to the nightstand, fumbling for my phone. Its cold screen illuminated with two text notifications, anchoring me to the real world beyond my chaotic mind. Plugging in the blow dryer in the bathroom, I began blow-drying my hair upside down with the warm gusts of air enveloping me, all while simultaneously sifting through the texts.

Messages from Marco and an unknown number welcomed me. With a hesitant tap, I prioritized Marco's message:

M&M:
Still down for brunch?

"Yeah," I quickly replied. "Just woke up. Should be there by 11. OMW."

As I awaited Marco's response, I shifted my attention to the unknown message: All Good? Yes, call. No, ignore.

I shook my head in disbelief. Rafael and his computer games. I mused, contemplating how my older brother managed to function with such little sleep. His question echoed in my thoughts, prompting me to reflect on the hazy boundary between dreams and reality. Deciding to clear the uncertainty, I swiftly deleted the text and called.

Allowing him to pick up first, I turned off the hairdryer, the rhythmic hum now replaced by the anticipation of Rafael's voice on the other end. "You slept in," he noted.

"A bit," I confessed, my voice sounding like I wrestled with a bear as I walked toward my closet.

"You got an update for me?" Rafael's question stabbed through the mental fog, demanding a clear report on the aftermath of the night.

"Right to business? No 'good morning, sis'? Have you enjoyed your coffee yet? Did you take your morning dump?" I quipped, my fingers desperately wrestling with a one-piece v-neck shirt that seemed to resist my attempts to wear it.

"You want me to ask about your morning shits?"

"No, but I don't just want you to jump into business like we're executing some kind of legally binding 1031 exchange or something. I mean, come on...I'm your sister, not a field agent."

"Alright, Becca, tell me, how's your morning been?" Rafael asked, his tone more casual now as if he sensed the chaos through the phone.

"It's been a total shit show. I slept in and nearly forgot about yesterday entirely. Honestly, I'm contemplating just wiping it from my memory altogether."

"Rough night?"

"Yes and no. Chris bought into the whole 'me-time' idea, which is a win; but I'm not entirely sure about Robert-you know he did that thing, the one he normally does when he's mad but keeping all in."

"That silent huff thing?" Rafael's empathetic tone flowed through the phone.

I managed to slide the shirt over my head, "Yup, that's the one. Sorry, getting dressed." With a sigh, I smoothed out the fabric, and without missing a beat, I snatched a pair of high-waisted jeans, slipping into them with a practiced ease. "Anyway, he was still skeptical about you being in town, and the whole lying to Chris thing- I guess the whole situation is kind of playing with my head a bit."

"As long as we have Chris on board, we can make this work. Don't worry about Robert. Don't worry about anything, really. I got your back, sis'." His reassurance brought a momentary sense of cautiously optimistic relief, prompting me to glance at the mirror.

"You're sure about this, right? No repercussions?" I asked as my reflection stared back, a testament to the wear and tear of the night.

"You trust me, don't you?"

I hesitated for a moment, my fingers nervously tapping the edge of the phone. The room's quiet offered little solace as I crafted a response.

"You're my brother," my gaze fixated on the black mascara and red liquid lipstick tubes resting on the dresser. "Of course, I trust you."

"Good. Now, any word on Marco? Has he reached out at all?"

"Nothing yet," I responded, my tone carrying a subtle evasion. The truth was, I wasn't ready to burden him with the uncertainties surrounding Marco. Admitting the unknown felt like unraveling a knot of worries that I wasn't prepared to share just yet.

Juggling the black mascara and red liquid lipstick tubes as I made my way to the bathroom, I added, "I'm heading back today to see what I can do." The words slipped from my lips, a delicate dance of protecting my own brother from the truth, and perhaps, shielding myself from the weight of it.

"Remember, Becca," he reassured, "you're a fly on the wall. Nothing more."

"Yeah, yeah," I mocked, deftly balancing the phone on my shoulder as I internally contemplated a plan to gain Marco's trust. With the black mascara in one hand and the red liquid lipstick tube in the other, I mused, "Don't initiate-got it."

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