They All Fall Down by Rachel Howzell Hall

Author:Rachel Howzell Hall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

17

Before racing to the kitchen, I threw an uneasy glance back over my shoulder.

Just that quick, Evelyn had eaten another slice of fish from her plate. Brave or stupid, I couldn’t tell, but my muscles tensed and I waited a moment to see if the nurse’s arms would flail, if her mouth would froth, if vomit would shoot from her gut to puddle alongside Javier’s. But she didn’t flail and she didn’t vomit—she just chewed and sat there and stared dumbly at her plate.

Why was she not flailing? Why was she not vomiting? How was it possible that Evelyn was still alive? Did she have four stomachs like a goat, with all four made of steel? Was she immune to tetrodotoxin or whatever the hell came from fish ovaries? The fish on my plate looked the same as the fish on Evelyn’s plate. Maybe hers was a little less translucent? Had only one part of the fish—the part Javier had put on my green plate—been cut incorrectly? Would that have changed the flesh’s opacity? Why was she even willing to take that kind of risk? Suicide—that was the only explanation. She wanted to die.

And that’s what I thought as I entered the kitchen squinting—because I was still confused. And I continued to squint, because the kitchen was too bright. Golden light ricocheted off the stainless steel refrigerator and sink fixtures, off the perfect skin of the mangoes and papayas piled into ceramic bowls. The kitchen was so bright that astronauts could see it from space.

Javier’s Crocs-covered feet, crossed at the ankles, vacation style, poked out of the freezer door. Eddie was skulking back and forth, hands clamped over his ears, his face red and twisted. His combat boots crunched pieces of the wineglass that Evelyn had dropped less than thirty minutes ago.

And Desi … she had been the screamer. Collapsed on the floor, she was hitting her fists against the tile, wailing at the tops of her lungs again. “He ain’t had to die! Oh, lord, help me! Help Javi! Aw-roo! Aw-roo!” She hadn’t been able to get attention in the dining room, so she’d taken her show on the road. Blanche DuBois meets Maggie the Cat meets John Travolta. One giant ham and cheese sandwich.

Aromas from the dinner that was supposed to have been eaten by now still hung in the air. Grilled lobster and shrimp sautéed in garlic. A platter of glistening asparagus speckled with minced red onions. A pan of melted butter congealing the longer it sat. Six bottles of wine lined up on the sink counter. Each dish was still edible. Each bottle of expensive wine was still drinkable. Nothing left behind obviously boasted cyanide as a key ingredient.

Frank kneeled beside the damsel and patted her shoulder. “It’s okay, Desirée. I’m here for you. You’re not alone.” Beads of sweat trickled down the sides of his face and soaked into the collar of his shirt, now stiffening from Desi’s snot and tears.

“I can’t stay here,” Desi said, her pleading raccoon eyes glued on Eddie.

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