Point Hollow by Rio Youers

Author:Rio Youers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ChiZine
Published: 2015-05-16T21:57:01+00:00

Chapter Ten

Bobby always said that his biggest weakness was his heart. Not that it was physically weak (although it was, of course), but that it was emotionally too large. He would do anything for anyone, and usually with a dumb, if slightly heartbreaking smile on his face. This often led to people taking advantage of him, and he rarely got anything in return. His heart attack shook him up. It made him see things—and people—in a different light. He came to realize that, while it was important to help others, he had to live for himself, too. Life was short, after all.

His mother insisted that having a big heart wasn’t a weakness at all—that it was, in fact, an honourable strength. She would further insist that Bobby had no weaknesses, as such, merely a few (very small) soft spots. One such spot would be his inclination to involve himself in other people’s business. If it ain’t your tail, don’t wag it, she’d say. But sometimes Bobby couldn’t help himself.

He knew that cycling to Oliver’s house and peeking through his windows was wrong. It was an invasion of his privacy, no different than opening his mail. He reasoned that—as long as Oliver didn’t find out—there was no harm done. It was therefore easy to blot out objections, or his mother’s voice telling him—and Matthew had said the same—that he was apt to get the tip of his nose snipped off if he couldn’t keep it from people’s affairs. Events would have transpired differently if he had listened to his mother, or even if he had limited his curiosity to peeking through the windows. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. He pushed too far, pried too deeply, and in so doing found something unimaginable. The danger was bigger than anything he’d ever known, but by the time he realized, it was too late.

———

He would later think—while cycling for his life—that he should have stolen a quick drink and blown out of Dodge, leaving everything as he had found it. But he would think many things during those timorous moments (that he should never have cycled to Oliver’s in the first place; how foolish he’d been to enter the house; that the unlocked patio door should have warned him that Oliver hadn’t gone far). He did wonder why the air conditioner was running, but figured that Oliver—having more money than sense—would sooner return to a chilled house than save a few bucks on the utilities bill. Just one of many oversights, and imprudent actions, that could prove his undoing.

He’d found a half-full carton of orange juice in the refrigerator door, but that was all. No bottled water or soda, and no ice cream—Chunky Monkey, or otherwise—in the freezer. Bobby drained the juice in one hit, his lips forming a seal around the spout to minimize spillage. He drank with grateful grunts, his eyes screwed shut, as if this would enhance his drinking pleasure. When finished, he crammed the carton beneath the refrigerator’s water dispenser and half-filled it again.

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