Ferris wasn\u2019t quite sure how he made it through the morning. By lunch, all he could recall was a flurry of requests, bleary phone calls, and pages of spreadsheets. The profit and loss statement he had prepared Sunday night needed revision and his supervisor had already lined up a revenue report to follow. The only clear image in his head was the face he had seen just after waking \u2014 of Alex. His hands slowed over the keyboard as he thought of her, eventually coming to a stop as he made a realization. He\u2019d forgotten to kiss her goodbye.<\/p>\n
Amidst the ambiance of mouse clicks and ringing phones, Ferris barely noticed the footsteps approaching his desk. It was only when a slim hand gripped the back of his chair that he thought to glance backward.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you are<\/i> alive.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris stared. \u201cDemos.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCorrect.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cWho let you in here? You need a key card to\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cI said I had an appointment with Mr. Levinstein.\u201d Demos smiled, sliding into the empty client\u2019s seat. \u201cYou are<\/i> my bookkeeper, aren\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris sighed. The Giorgettis had been blessed with the ability to weasel their way into nearly any building. Not even his office was safe.<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry I didn\u2019t call,\u201d Ferris ran a hand over his hair. \u201cI barely made it to work on time.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere were you? Seamus said you didn\u2019t come home last night.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAt Alex\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAlex\u2019s?\u201d Demos\u2019 smile faltered, a movement too subtle for Ferris to notice. \u201cYou stayed the night?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n
For a while, Demos didn\u2019t move, only looking back at his friend as he struggled to keep his features in order. His hands were motionless over his knee and it was only the slight rising of his chest that exposed the fact he was actually alive. There was a lump in his throat, shifting as if he had tried to swallow and then changed his mind.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid\u2014\u201c Demos closed his mouth, momentarily retreating back into his thoughts. \u201cYou really like her, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI do.\u201d Ferris managed a smile, one soft and almost wistful. Demos had never seen it before. It struck him, wedging itself in his chest like a wrecking ball.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s in the bag?\u201d Ferris asked, nodding to the parcel in Demos\u2019 lap and effectively wresting the Italian from his own thoughts.<\/p>\n
\u201cRisotto,\u201d he said, his expression finally warming. \u201cAlla zucca, the way you like it. I thought you could use some lunch. I mean, if you weren\u2019t dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris accepted the Tupperware container gratefully. He\u2019d forgotten about eating. \u201cThanks, Demos. Ah, why don\u2019t you come over tonight? For Scrabble.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cReally? You\u2019re making Seamus spell things?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris shrugged. \u201cHe could use the practice.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll be there. And, ah, also\u2026\u201d Demos\u2019 fingers tightened, his thumbs rubbing together in an uncharacteristic display of hesitation. \u201cI\u2019d like to meet her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMeet Alex? Demos, you know I can\u2019t\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cWe don\u2019t have to give her my real name,\u201d he said. \u201cShe seems really important to you, so I think it\u2019s only fair.\u201d<\/p>\n
The two looked at each other for a moment, with Ferris mentally running through every possible thing that could go wrong. His instincts told him this was a bad idea \u2014 even worse than taking her to Giorgetti\u2019s to deal with Sergio\u2019s acting skills. Their relationship, however, was getting serious. It would only be a matter of time before they met. Alex truly was important to him, and then, so was Demos.<\/p>\n
The Italian\u2019s brow rose. \u201cDon\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll right.\u201d Ferris exhaled in defeat. \u201cI\u2019ll see what I can do.\u201d<\/p>\n
After a set of brief goodbyes, Demos took his leave. Ferris gazed at the Tupperware on his desk, wondering if he\u2019d made yet another poor decision. The seat next to his creaked as his coworker leaned over to whisper.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, was that\u2014 that Giorgetti kid?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d Ferris closed his eyes. \u201cIt wasn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
As promised, Demos arrived that evening with a bottle of wine and a Brioni blazer.<\/p>\n
\u201cLittle overdressed for board games, aren\u2019t you?\u201d Ferris said, taking the bottle to the kitchen.<\/p>\n
Demos dusted an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve. \u201cI had a meeting before this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe way you say it, it almost sounds like actual work.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFuck off, give me that wine back.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cToo late.\u201d Ferris gestured to the counter. \u201cSeamus already broke into it.\u201d<\/p>\n
In the kitchen, Seamus had wasted no time plunging a corkscrew halfway down the neck of the bottle. He bit his lip in determination, apparently quite eager to start drinking.<\/p>\n
Demos raised a brow. \u201cThirsty?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI need a real drink. All Ferret has is Jew-wine.\u201d Seamus released the cork with a pop. \u201cThat shit tastes like lollies.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know there\u2019s a hotel down the street with a great bar on the first floor. You could always sleep over there,\u201d Ferris said.<\/p>\n
Seamus grinned before lifting the bottle to his lips. \u201cBut then who would keep you company?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, that\u2019s a Castello di Ama,\u201d Demos said with a glare. \u201cUse a glass.\u201d<\/p>\n
The Scrabble board was arranged on the coffee table, bordered by cheap snacks and Chinese takeout boxes. As expected, Seamus, wine, and dozens of small choking hazards were not an ideal combination. Wooden tiles had covered half of the board, with some words more appropriate than others.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d Ferris covered his eyes with a hand. \u201cChorg<\/i> is absolutely not a word.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is so!\u201d Seamus said, gesturing with the glass Demos had forced him to use. \u201cYou know, in porn when\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t finish that sentence.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos elbowed his friend. \u201cJust let him have it, Ferris. You owe us.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOwe you? What the hell for?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou disappeared into the night without calling. We were worried sick.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor Christ\u2019s sake, I already have one mother,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cI don\u2019t need three.\u201d<\/p>\n
Seamus downed the remaining dregs in his glass. \u201cWell, it\u2019s two to one. Chorg counts. Your turn, Demos.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI swear to god if you put down another porn word I\u2019m kicking you both onto the street.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos rubbed his chin. \u201cDamn, I was one letter short of \u2018anilingus<\/i>.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOut.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou two keep bickering.\u201d Seamus stood, dusting his knees. \u201cI\u2019ve got a surprise in the kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos narrowed his eyes. \u201cI thought we ordered Chinese so he wouldn\u2019t<\/i> try to cook something.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, that, and there aren\u2019t any clean pans. You got any tips on house-training Brits?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGive up, he\u2019s too feral,\u201d Demos said, placing a single letter on the board.<\/p>\n
\u201cReally, Demos? Qi<\/i>?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, if you\u2019ve got a fucking \u2018U\u2019 I can have, by all means.\u201d<\/p>\n
Unlike Demos, Ferris took his turn quite seriously. The Italian had stolen the space he\u2019d wanted, blocking a triple word tile and forcing him to rethink his entire strategy. He wondered if Demos was relying on dumb luck or if, somehow, he\u2019d done it on purpose. Ferris was so invested in the set of lettered tiles that he didn\u2019t notice the sound of running water in the kitchen, nor did he hear the stove click on. It was only when steam began to rush through the steel spout, when the faintest hints of a bubbling water began, that he glanced up from the table.<\/p>\n
The whistle was shrill, screaming, striking him like a train at full speed. His tile rack clattered to the floor, spilling letters across the wood. He could see the kettle in his mind, stark and gleaming, sweating droplets. The image grew brighter, whiter, blinding him as the sound of the whistle overtook every sense in his body.<\/p>\n
Demos stood, nearly slipping on a loose tile as he hurried to the kitchen. \u201cSeamus. Seamus, turn it off!\u201d<\/p>\n
The Italian bumped Seamus aside before he could ask why, clicking off the dial. The flames died in an instant, dropping the burner back into silence.<\/p>\n
\u201cChrist,\u201d Seamus said. \u201cIt was just some fuckin\u2019 tea.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe didn\u2019t tell you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me what?\u201d<\/p>\n
Just as Demos opened his mouth to explain, a dull voice stole their attention.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is that.\u201d Ferris was standing past the counter, his stare long and unfocused. He would have been perfectly still if not for the twitch in his fingers, the long digits trembling beneath tight knuckles.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a kettle, mate,\u201d Seamus said with open hands. \u201cYou didn\u2019t have one, so I thought I\u2019d buy you a gift.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGet\u2014\u201c Ferris stopped to breathe in through his nose. \u201cGet it out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat? You don\u2019t like the color? Thought you\u2019d be fine with silver.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris\u2019 eyes widened behind the glare on his lenses. His shoulders tensed, hunching as he made a rapid gesture toward the door. \u201cIt\u2019s bad enough everywhere else\u2014 I don\u2019t want it in my fucking house!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFerris, I\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cGet rid of it!<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris didn\u2019t wait for another response, only letting out a hard breath before turning on his heel to leave. The bathroom door slammed shut behind him, startling Stanley out of his nap on the sofa.<\/p>\n
The medicine cabinet opened with a clack. The prescription bottle wouldn\u2019t stay still, shaking in his hands as he struggled with the child-proof cap. His scar seemed to be burning, throbbing, once-deadened nerves now howling beneath marred skin. He knew it was a lie. It had been years since he had lost feeling there, but then, at that moment, it felt so real.<\/p>\n
The cap popped open. Pills tumbled into the sink, several making it all the way to the drain.<\/p>\n
\u201cFuck.\u201d Ferris grasped for them, desperately trying to salvage whatever remained in the basin. \u201cFuck, fuck.\u201d<\/p>\n
Two pills made it into his hand. He tilted his head back, downing them with a bob of his throat. The water glass clinked as it was set back down, its contents sloshing. His scar continued to pulse. Each breath seemed so loud, filling the tiny room, scratching up his throat. This was ridiculous. It was a kettle \u2014 just a kettle. It had been years since that day.<\/p>\n
So why did it still burn?<\/p>\n
He tore his glasses from his face, setting them aside to splash a handful of water over his eyes. Trails ran down his jaw, dripping back into the sink as he stared at the drain.<\/p>\n
There was a knock at the door.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou all right?\u201d It was Seamus\u2019 voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust\u2014\u201c Ferris scrubbed the water from his eyes. \u201cJust give me a second.\u201d<\/p>\n
Outside the door, Seamus glanced backward at Demos, his brow low with worry.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I fucked up again,\u201d he said, his voice unnaturally soft. \u201cThough I\u2019m not quite sure how.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos was staring at the door and took a moment to respond. \u201cYou didn\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI still don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
For a while, Demos considered his words. He knew that if anyone should explain it, it would be Ferris. He also knew that his friend was in no mental state to retell the story. He never wanted to talk about it \u2014 not then, and certainly not now.<\/p>\n
\u201cRemember what I told you, about what happened?\u201d Demos said. \u201cWhen you first saw his scar.\u201d<\/p>\n
Seamus nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey did it with boiling water \u2014 with a kettle. It stuck with him. He\u2019s taking pills for it, but they don\u2019t always work.\u201d<\/p>\n
Seamus scrubbed his fingers through his hair. \u201cA kettle? But what about that thing \u2014 that moka pot you got him?\u201d<\/p>\n
The bathroom door opened and both men glanced quickly over. Though Ferris\u2019 hands had stopped shaking, the weariness hadn\u2019t left his face.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt doesn\u2019t whistle.\u201d Ferris lifted his reddened eyes from the floor. \u201cIt\u2019s\u2014 it\u2019s the whistle.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry, mate.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMe too. I shouldn\u2019t have yelled at you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I got rid of it,\u201d Seamus said. \u201cYou won\u2019t see it again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks. I hope it wasn\u2019t expensive.\u201d<\/p>\n
Seamus barked a laugh, his features bright in the dim room. \u201cLook who you\u2019re talking to.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAh, of course.\u201d Ferris managed a smile. If he could count on Seamus for one thing, it was always a proper grin. That, and buying cheap household goods.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut if you think depriving me of tea is going to get me out of your flat, you\u2019re sorely mistaken.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNext time I\u2019ll try dumping it in the harbor.\u201d<\/p>\n
Several days passed before Ferris found a moment to himself. He lingered at the window of a chocolate shop before sidling inside. Shopping wasn\u2019t his preferred way of passing time, but notable occasions warranted notable gifts. The interior was lined with shelves of elegantly displayed sweets, wrapped in gold and black ribbons. The scent of truffles and almond bark lingered in the air. To a normal person, such an environment would immediately rouse the senses, instilling a keen, delectable sense of craving.<\/p>\n
Ferris had little to no interest in sweets, yet there was one special person who did.<\/p>\n
\u201cCould you wrap it, please?\u201d he asked at the register. \u201cIt\u2019s a gift.\u201d<\/p>\n
The wind had picked up outside. It was unusually cool for June, the skies overcast and the trees rustling along the sidewalk. He knew this walk well. It was always a long one, with the same sausage vendors parked by the curb, the same deep cracks on the sidewalk below his feet. He passed through an iron gate, noting that the grass seemed dryer than it had in spring.<\/p>\n
After seemingly endless rows of flat markers, Ferris reached his destination. He reached into his pocket, removing a single, smooth rock to lay flat on the headstone. The monument was wide, carved from solid granite and bearing a single word \u2014 Levinstein<\/i>.<\/p>\n
Ferris dropped to a crouch. His fingers found the newest marker \u2014 one that had been placed only five years prior. For a moment, Ferris could only feel over the letters, tracing over the outline of his father\u2019s name. Harold<\/i>.<\/p>\n
\u201cHappy Father\u2019s Day.\u201d His shopping bag rustled as he removed the gift. \u201cI got you those chocolates you like \u2014 from that Belgian place on 44th<\/sup><\/span> St.\u201d<\/p>\n He set the box down, carefully positioning it at the base of the headstone.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, the ones Mom never let you have because \u2014 because they were bad for your heart.\u201d<\/p>\n For a while, he listened to the trees. There were birds calling overhead, their voices light in spite of the gray sky.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m seeing someone now \u2014 Alex,\u201d he said. \u201cShe\u2019s amazing. I think you\u2019d have gotten along. It\u2019s probably a bad idea, but I\u2019m going to see if she wants to meet Demos. I wish you could meet her, too.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris pushed his fingers up beneath his glasses, rubbing the corners of his eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m worried about Demos. He\u2019s been acting a little strange lately. I mean, even more than usual. I guess he\u2019s under a lot of pressure.\u201d<\/p>\n He inhaled, keeping the air in his chest for a moment. His ribs felt tight, as if they were attempting to close in on his lungs.<\/p>\n \u201cI wish he\u2019d tell me what\u2019s on his mind.\u201d<\/p>\n The wind stopped. The cemetery felt strangely still, quiet enough for Ferris to hear himself swallow.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks for listening.\u201d He lay his hand flat on the marker once more. \u201cI miss you, Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n By the time he left, the sun had dipped further in the sky. Southport University was six stops and one transfer away on the subway and the city was nearly dark once he reached it. Unlike the sprawling Ivy League campus he was accustomed to, the university was planted through various city blocks, its buildings tall and compact. He unfolded a piece of wrinkled note paper, checking the hand-drawn map. The biochemistry department was just across the park.<\/p>\n The laboratory was stark, laid out in whites and grays, each surface lit with long fluorescent bulbs. After a brief scan of the room, he caught sight of Alex near the far wall. She was suited up in a lab coat, too caught up in her work to notice him. Her hands were occupied with a machine, the purpose of which he couldn\u2019t even begin to imagine. He smiled at the sight of her, tempted to simply watch before remembering they had a reservation.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, Alex.\u201d<\/p>\n She glanced up in an instant, brightening at the sound of his voice. \u201cGood timing, I just finished.\u201d<\/p>\n After a quick jot in her notes, she snapped off her gloves. Just as she began to clean her supplies, a fellow student nudged her side.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s okay, Alex,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019ll clean up. You go ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou sure?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s Ferris, right?\u201d The girl jerked a thumb at the man behind her.<\/p>\n Alex reddened. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, you go on.\u201d<\/p>\n After a hurried thanks, Alex slunk past her classmate. She caught up to Ferris, chewing her lip as they made their way to the locker room.<\/p>\n He glanced back to the other student. \u201cHow does she know who\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u00a0\u201cWhat?\u201d Alex threw up her hands. \u201cIt\u2019s not like I talk about you all the time or anything. God<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re still red, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShut up.\u201d<\/p>\n He held in a laugh, watching the back of her head as she tugged off her coat. The contents of her locker were fairly disorganized, though he knew it would be futile to mention it. She had firmly defended the mess in her apartment and he was certain this would be no different. Various school supplies had been crammed on the top shelf, as well as the edge of a folded newspaper.<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t know you read the paper,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n It took her a moment to realize what he was looking at and she quickly shut the locker to keep his eyes out. \u201cOh, I don\u2019t usually.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFind anything good?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d She took him by the hand as they headed toward the exit. \u201cNot really.\u201d<\/p>\n The newspaper had fallen into shadow, half-crushed under the weight of Alex\u2019s textbooks. The majority of its articles had been of little interest to her, with only one piece on the third page catching her eye. A photo of a young man with black hair sat nestled beside a wall of text, a story touting accounts of speculation and intrigue. Only two words in particular had been marked, the text circled in thick, red ink.<\/p>\n Demos Giorgetti<\/i><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Ferris wasn\u2019t quite sure how he made it through the morning. By lunch, all he could recall was a flurry of requests, bleary phone calls, and pages of spreadsheets. The profit and loss statement he had prepared Sunday night needed revision and his supervisor had already lined up a revenue report to follow. The only […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-336","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fishbones-book-02"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4oWx8-5q","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/336","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=336"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/336\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":579,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/336\/revisions\/579"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=336"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=336"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=336"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}