Sovereign Ground (Breaking Bonds) by Hilarey Johnson Page B

out. He may
have wanted to play around, but I probably gave him the signals that I wanted
it too. He is a good boss.
    The night passes slowly without drinking. I have always
hated alcohol, but I understand now why my brother would see it as a “means to
an end.” It doesn’t change your situation—your pain—but it makes you not care.
    Fortunately, I’m not a bar girl, so I don’t have
to stay late to do side-work like the cocktail waitresses. I leave with the
dancers. Tonight, Brody hands me a fifty for my cab ride.
    I have the cab drop me at the start of my street,
and I walk the rest of the way home. I want a chance to get the perfume and
stale liquor scents from my hair and clothes. Thom and Lorna have probably been
asleep for three or four hours, so a few more minutes won’t matter. There is
just enough light to see where the key fits and let myself in.
    “Sparrow.”
    I jump even though I recognize my brother’s voice.
    “Oh, hi, Thom.” I press the lever down so the latch
on the door will not click when it shuts. The room is gloomy. I can barely make
out the shape of my brother sitting in the darkness of our living room.
    “S’late.”
    “Been drinking?” I ask, even though I can tell.
    Thom is silent for minutes. I grow tired of
standing in the dark. It’s been a long night. I start toward my room.
    “Where…have you been?”
    He speaks so slow I can tell he really
concentrated on articulating. I hate that I made him feel like Lorna does. So,
I answer, “Work.”
    “Seen Hayden lately?”
    Why ask? Why tonight? “No. Not for awhile.”
    “He’s a good guy.”
    I lean my side against the wall. Suddenly it feels
like I’m trying to hold up both Thom and myself.
    “What are you doing?” I ask my brother.
    “I couldn’t sleep.”
    Thom doesn’t need to get up in the morning, he can
cat nap day and night.
    “I was thinking about something Hayden said.” He
continues.
    I wait, but Thom doesn’t divulge.
    “Wanted to know if you were going to see him
again.”
    There is an emptiness inside as I answer. “I don’t
think…” I can’t even finish. It’s like Hayden has awakened this gnawing hole I
would have been better off not knowing about.
    Thom stands and walks to me. He takes my hand and
gives it a little squeeze. I don’t remember him ever touching me before. His
hand is heavy and cool. After what feels like the entire cycle of the moon, I squeeze
back. His skin is clammy.
    “Night, Sparrow.”
    “G’night, Thom.”
    I drop my clothes on the bed, slip on some lounge
pants and slide under the covers. The extra weight of the clothes on my feet
bugs me, so I kick them off. My favorite jeans hit the floor, jeans I bought
with dancer money.
    I’m not disappointed with the fifty-one dollars in
fives and ones that I left wadded up in my pocket. But when I danced, I averaged
two hundred a night, so how can I settle for fifty-one now? I roll onto my back
and hold my arms up for an imaginary flute, embracing the air since I have no
music to hold me. My fingers move where they should but the only melody that resonates
from me is a groan inside my chest. If there’s a God like Hayden believes, he
could give me back my music—my flute.
    “Is there…are you?” I cannot finish asking. I
don’t know what would be worse, there really isn’t a God in control—or there
is.
     
     
     
    I’ve never understood the dreams everyone describes
as running but going nowhere—laden legs that don’t respond. I feel my muscles
contract, sinew taut against a sturdy frame. I’m not sad. I lift my arms and look
to the sky to receive sun on my face. My song, my father’s song rains down on
me. It becomes my clothing. It isn’t musical notes falling, but something like
feathers or cotton, wisps of white raining and settling on me. I say it’s music,
because I hear it more than I see it.
    Another sound, not part of my dream, and suddenly I’m
awake. Cool air dries my eyes as I lift my lids,