It had been a hellish week for me and my sister following our beloved pet Bowser’s death. He was a chocolate lab full of joy and wonder. As children, Linds and I would follow Bowser, him being our guide to an awaiting adventure. Together, we were a family; together, he kept us sane under Aunt Rhea’s rueful care.
Bumps of gravel slid against our aged small car’s tires. It was just now that Linds and I were coming into the forest’s waiting arms. This had been where we’d found Bowser after all, malnourished, ribs visible, with sunken eyes—the sight just spelled pity. Unknowingly, my grip on the steering wheel tightened, making my knuckles whiten, and a curious glance came from Linds as she took her eyes, for the first time in our trip, off her phone.
Bowser’s ashes bumped in their urn but were kept safe inside a cardboard box strapped stably against seatbelts. The off-trail roading was a precarious one, but I was reassured by Linds and her tappings on her phone—a welcome annoyance. Sometimes, I wished we were closer, like we’d been in childhood. Maybe Bowser could reunite us once again?
Initiating conversation, perhaps to drown the crinkling of tread on rough earth, I asked, “Who are you talking to, Linds?” Some sibling fun was just what this environment needed—to lighten the mood.
Quickly, Linds set her phone on the dashboard, leaving its screen still on to bring a slight lighting in our confined space. “Just Izzy and the girls. Though, Luke, you know I hate how you call me Linds. Please, for the current sake, don’t.”
Originally, the nickname had started out as a playful one for my younger sister. It soon got adopted by Mom and Dad, but once they were gone, Lindsey made all her effort to avoid responding to the nickname. “Fine. Lindsey, how was your winter break so far?” A hasty pulling of her sweater’s hood over herself and long blonde hair was all I got—silence once again crept its way inside my car.
“Me? How was my break? Why thank you for asking, Lindsey! Well, there I was working in the deli when a red-headed woman, my dashing knight in armor, came in, and goodness, I’ll tell you how I was swept up so much like a princess.”
All I got was a scoff. My foolish attempt at humor, and all I got was a scoff—a sudden shroud of darkness enveloped my face or so it seemed by Lindsey’s expression.
“Still not over Amy? Or maybe you’ve just got a thing for redheads? I seem to remember in fifth grade you—” I cut her off with a quick shushing. The last thing this car needed to hear was stories of boyhood crushes, and an embarrassing one at that.
“All that humor and at my first attempt in responding you shush me!” Fury raged, and Lindsey scratched at my free, non-steering wheel latched hand—playful banter. In retaliation, I took to peeling that damned hood off her. It was then that a visible bruise came into my vision from her phone’s hue. It was positioned in a nifty spot on the back of Lindsey’s neck, hidden by her long hair. By the stopping of our banter, it was clear she knew I knew.
Sudden rage boiled to my face, and slight tears stung my cheeks. Carefully, I had to choose my words, “What’s life with Auntie like right now?” Slow prying’s at the veil of my former caretaker and Lindsey’s current. In response, Lindsey returned to her hood, yanking it up for cover and security. I stopped the car. We were still half an hour away from our destination. Surely, spreading Bowser’s ashes could be done in the setting darkness. As if I somewhat expected this, we both glanced at flashlights in the backseat.
A cold monotone voice devoid of joy came from Lindsey, “It’s okay. Really. She doesn’t do as much as before.” My knuckles once again whitened, this time in anger. I’d sworn to Aunt Rhea that if I heard any inklings of her laying hands on Lindsey, that I’d actively punish her in any form—legal, physical, or mental. Suddenly, my mind and gaze took to the mailbox on the passenger’s side. A lock was there to keep its contents safe and hidden—a gun was stored inside.
The key felt like a burning hole in my pocket, almost like a hot kettle of boiling hot water that Auntie would sometimes make me carry. “Lindsey, I want you to listen very carefully. Do you want to leave that house?” I was prepared for either answer, having saved up enough for four months’ rent for a two-bedroom apartment.
“No.” That response gutted me. Lindsey always held Auntie in higher regard than anyone else. She’d always say ‘She’s family!’ Even after everything. Lindsey was stuck in a vicious cycle that, despite being able to break, she wouldn’t. Solemnly, I reignited the engine, beginning our journey again. This time, I let the car stay silent. It’d be dealt with after Bowser’s ashes were spread.