Page 86 of A Good Book

“What do you mean? Like he doesn’t want to be friends or just more than friends?”

The pillow absorbed my first tear. “I don’t know. He’s just so miserable, and he doesn’t want my help. His mom keeps telling me to give him time, but it’s been months. I feel like he’s stuck, but he doesn’t want help. Like he had one dream, and anything else is equivalent to death.”

“I can only imagine. It’s going to take time, Gabby.”

“Time? It’s been months.”

“Yeah, but he spent nearly nineteen years with the ability to hear, so accepting his new lot in life will take longer than a few months. He’s grieving something really big. It has to suck.”

“He won’t let me grieve with him. He keeps pushing me away.”

“Gabbs, grieving isn’t a group sport. It’s the most personal emotion a human is capable of feeling. If you dropped ten vases from the exact same distance onto the same floor, they would all break differently. One or two might not break at all or just have a chip out of them. But no two would have the same number of pieces. No two would be put back together in the same way. No one knowsexactlywhat Ben is feeling or how long it will take for him to feel pieced back together. And you can’t do it. Nobody can put Ben back together except Ben. You’ll only get cut if you try to fix him.”

After a few seconds of not knowing how to respond and letting her words play in my mind, I whispered, “I got cut tonight.”

“I’m sorry.” She rested a hand on the side of my head, her palm touching my cheek. “But don’t sleep with Matt.”

I knew she was trying to lighten the mood, but it only made me more emotional.

All the tears came at once, and a tiny sob broke free.

“Oh, Gabbs …”

“I s-slept with Ben.”

She hugged me.

“But d-don’t t-tell anyone.”

* * *

After a restless night,I woke a little before five on Christmas morning. My eyes were still swollen from crying, and my mouth was dry. Sarah must not have slept well either because she wasn’t in bed. I wrapped up in my terry-cloth robe and tiptoed down the stairs. The second I turned the corner, I covered my mouth to silence my gasp, then jumped back to hide. I should have turned around and bolted back up the stairs. It’s what God wanted me to do. Even if I sometimes ignored my moral compass, I still had one. And it was Christmas, the celebration of the birth of Christ. All arrows pointed upstairs.

But that stupid little pitch-forked demon on my shoulder convinced me to slowly peek around the corner again. It wassowrong.

The family room was dim sans the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights. Dad unplugged them every night. Except on Christmas Eve, he left them on all night so we’d come downstairs to a lit-up room with presents under the tree. Sarah was on the sofa, partially reclined. Her night shirt was bunched up above her breasts, leaving the rest of her naked and exposed. Isaac had on a pair of gray sweatpants, no shirt, and he was kneeling on the floor, gripping her inner thighs while his head was between her spread legs.

She arched her back and pulled at his hair with one hand while her other hand clawed at the couch cushion. “Oh my god, baby … yesss,” she softly moaned.

Something or someone (perhaps the Holy Spirit) screamed for me to go back upstairs. I had no business watching them, but I could not turn away.

Isaac kissed his way up her body, camping out at her breasts as he slid his sweats and briefs just past his butt. He had a nice butt, firm and defined like Ben’s. Isaac kissed Sarah hard and they moaned together as he thrust into her. It wasn’t like Ben slowly working into me a fraction at a time. No. Isaac showed my sister no mercy as he rammed into her over and over, but she seemed to like it. And I suddenly wanted nothing more than a do-over. I wanted to have Ben do to me exactly what Isaac was doing to Sarah.

My body heated and I swallowed hard. I was turned on. Ick … why was I turned on by watching my sister have sex? That was so messed up, so I bolted upstairs as quickly and quietly as possible and jumped back into bed.

I considered everything and concluded that if Ben and I had that kind of sex, he would realize there was more to life than mourning the loss of his hearing. Right?

Less than ten minutes later, Sarah crept back into my bedroom and eased into bed. With my back to her and breath held, I remained completely still. I told myself to just relax and try to go back to sleep, but I was still thirsty, and there was no way I could sleep after watching them. So I rolled toward her.

I leaned closer to see her face in the dark room. She had her eyes closed and a content smile on her face.

“I know you’re awake,” I whispered.

Sarah opened one eye. “Sorry. I just had to use the bathroom. Go back to sleep.”

“Liar. I was thirsty, so I went downstairs for a glass of water. Want to know what I saw?”

Sarah pulled the sheet over her head. “Gabriella, please don’t say another word.”

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