Someday It Will Be by S.A. McAuley

Author:S.A. McAuley [McAuley, S.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing
Published: 2013-09-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Poe pointed at the cigarette clutched between Artie’s fingers. “Promise me you’ll quit tomorrow.”

Artie laughed derisively, as only a teenager could do. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious! You think maybe I have some valid reason for asking?” He crooked an eyebrow, challenging Artie to ask him what his reason was.

Artie’s eyes narrowed. “This is too fucking weird.”

Poe snorted.

Artie held the cigarette between his fingers and pointed at Poe’s chest. “If you even dare pull out an ‘I knew you would say that’ I’m out of here!”

“I wasn’t going to,” Poe protested.

“Yeah. You were,” Artie accused.

“Okay, I totally was,” Poe admitted.

Artie rolled his eyes. “Jesus. Just tell me about Isaac.” He lifted the cigarette to take another drag, looked at it instead then dropped it and stubbed it out. When Poe shot him a look, Artie picked up the butt and put it in his pocket.

Poe crossed his arms. The last coil of cigarette smoke swirled around his head, a scent all the more intoxicating after almost two years without it. He had loved smoking, but Isaac had hated it so much that even after Isaac’s death he had resisted picking up the habit again. He cocked his head towards the sand dune. “Let’s sit down.”

Artie nodded and followed him. Artie’s shoulders drooped forward, accentuating the spear of his collarbone, his teenage awkwardness not quite gone. Poe glanced at the sky, trying to figure out how much time he had left before the coming storm hit. There was so much he had to get through to Artie. He settled with his back against the dune, the whisper in his ear silent, but somehow still present.

Artie dropped to the sand in a huff, crossed his legs and propped his chin in his hands. Everything about Artie’s posture was sarcastic, distancing. His shoulders sagged forward and his spine was a tight C curve, which should have looked relaxed, but his legs were tense, ready to pounce or escape at the slightest hint of provocation.

Through the years Poe had learned how to guard himself better, to not have his emotions so blatantly on display. At eighteen, he had thought his innocence was already lost. After leaving Isaac, he’d learned innocence wasn’t a husk—a single layer which was peeled, cast away then never returned. Innocence and naiveté were seated within the soul, and he had systematically dug deeper into that core until they were excised. Others had started the process, but he had been the one to finish it.

He scrubbed his arm across his forehead, wiping the dampness away. The sun momentarily broke through the gathering clouds and glared off the vacant beach, but the storm was only minutes away now. He knew time was running short, but this couldn’t be rushed.

Poe took a deep breath and started the only way he knew how. “Because of what doesn’t happen tonight, tomorrow you’ll leave Michigan and cut Isaac out of your life. You’ll float from job to job and city to city, certain that you’re destined to be the piece of shit everyone besides Isaac always thought you would be.

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