Blood sits heavy on an empty stomach, I thought bitterly as the crimson pool around me expanded. My insides howled with pain, yet I lay motionless, listless in my doomed state. The sticky sand embalmed me while the turmoil in my intestines raged in a battle between empty, gnawing pain and boiling, tumultuous nausea.
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I can’t escape the song. It winds through the air in snatches, filling my head with memories. The melody cuts the half-healed wounds on my heart open again, but I deserve the pain.
I chase the elusive notes through the busy city streets, narrowly avoiding collisions with ladies carrying parasols, children wearing tiny sailor suits…
The night air smells like cinnamon and fryer oil from the cart vendors down below. Swing jazz floats on the breeze from the club three shops down. I tap my fingers moodily on the rusty edge of the fire escape. It’s Independence Day, but I don’t feel much like celebrating.
Tomorrow, my brother leaves for war.
Fireworks exploded over Elysium Fields Senior Living and Nate almost dropped the bag of empanadas as he blundered out of his car. He squelched his apprehension. He had to reach Abuela before she lost herself in memory.
On recent visits, Abuela had been lucid, and he’d told Alexis about their picnic traditions. Abuela would demolish them in Rummy.
“So, Aedan, I’d like you to take care of the place today. This will be an opportunity to get your feet wet managing the business.”
“What?” I glanced up from my phone, sipping my rapidly-melting milkshake. Uncle Johnny didn’t usually bother me on my lunch break.
He sighed. He looked frazzled, and his white hair stuck out at odd angles.
I stared out at the cold gray afternoon. Some summer holiday this was turning out to be. Spending the whole of June on a road trip through the French countryside had sounded idyllic when my parents suggested it. I’d expected to be frolicking in Alpine meadows with wildflowers in my hair like Heidi and swimming in gorgeous blue mountain lakes.
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“Haddie Underwood, I always knew someday I’d have to post your bond.” My elder sister Zelda peered at me from the other side of the bars before her gaze slithered over to the man beside me. “But you. I can honestly say I never expected to bail my own father out of jail. What in all of Kingland happened?”
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Sketchbook in hand, I leaned over the watchtower’s edge. Dark shadows crept across the hills toward us.
Below me, a dozen farmers added sweeping strokes to the canvas in the center square. Hard to believe these men’s artistic experiences once extended only as far as the furrows their plows carved into the earth.
The summer I first traveled to America, my father wore a red shirt so I could spot him in the crowds. Let’s just say that system doesn’t work if other people are wearing red shirts and you’re a five-year-old who can’t see above anyone’s butt.
As soon as we joined the mob in front of JFK to catch a cab, I got separated from Dad.
When I spotted Sarah Becker enjoying a meal at Luigi’s outdoor café, I ignored my better judgement and approached her. When she saw me coming, she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Detective Jordan. If you remember, my charges over the Gode Tech heist were dismissed.”
I set down a yellowed photograph featuring a man wearing a suit…
6th June, 1944
Twelve miles from shore, we climb into the landing craft.
“Remember,” the coxswain warns, looking at each of us as we set out. “Save no one. We need manpower on the beach.”
No one responds. What could we say? None of us wanted to face the possibility of leaving our friends behind.
Time has fallen into silence.
I can still remember when it happened that early spring day; the way the light went out and my soul trembled. When life snatched away my bride and children. The day I lost my world. I trudged through the dark forest; the last rays of sunlight spilling in through the canopy of trees
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