Stepbrother Fallen (13 page)
Read Stepbrother Fallen Online
Authors: Aya Fukunishi
tears as the cop marches him to the squad car. McIntyre pushes
Rafe's head down as he opens the rear passenger door, guiding him
into the back.
half an hour ago I was laying beside Rafe in bed, our bodies
glistening with sweat, panting with blissful exhaustion after the
second time he made me squeal with joy. I can't believe that it's
over. I can't believe he's in cuffs, bundled into the back of a
squad car on the way to jail. This just can't be happening.
car pulls away. Through the window Rafe looks back and smiles at
me, his eyes locked on me as if I'm the only thing that matters to
him in the world.
on the edge of my perception I can hear mom yelling at me, and dad
trying to calm her down. I feel someone grab my by the wrist and
pull me back towards the house, and I move without resisting,
pulled like a rag doll. I don't care.
hell.
pulp, had woken that Sunday morning with a raging hangover, a
broken cheekbone and a wicked grudge. The night before he'd been
too drunk to speak to the cops, but when he woke up in the hospital
– around the time Rafe and I arrived at the diner – he was more
than ready to confirm the ID of his attacker.
re-offended he'd face not only the new charges but also the
original charge of grand theft auto. No second chances. No
exceptions. He spent three days in the local jail before he was
extradited back to Colorado, where he was quickly tried by the
judge who had originally allowed him to go live with Karl. This
time it was made clear there would be no soft option.
witness at the trial. There was no hope that he'd escape jail time,
but the lawyer was convinced he could have the sentence reduced if
I testified that Rafe was fighting to defend me. Mom wouldn't allow
it. From the moment the cuffs were snapped on his wrists in our
driveway I was forbidden from having any contact with him. I argued
until I was blue in the face, but there was no talking her
down.
issue: three years in jail. I only learned that from online court
records.
faced weeks of uncertainty about whether I'd be charged with giving
a false alibi to a police officer. Mike Bowen's parents made a big
noise about it, arguing that I should spend a little time in jail
for trying to absolve their son's attacker, but eventually they
gave up the fight when public opinion turned against them. Nobody
could bring themselves to argue that I should do time for sticking
up for my stepbrother.
compared to the horror of my parents learning the truth about me
and Rafe. As soon as he was arrested the whole sorry story began to
come out. The gossip network was alive with rumors about what had
happened, and by the time the waitress at Frank's started blabbing
about the morning she saw the two of us rush to the motel you'd
think we were Bonnie and Clyde. In the eyes of the community I
became some sort of gangster's moll, egging Rafe on to commit his
crimes before dragging him to bed.
gossip, and we gave it to them in spades. Before long most people
believed that Rafe was my real, biological brother, which only made
the story all the more juicy. By the time the summer ended and I
escaped to UCLA mom and dad had broken under the pressure of the
whispered words and sidelong glances. They sold up and moved to a
place by the ocean about an hour north of the city, leaving all the
rumors behind.
about it. Dad never spoke about it, but mom convinced herself that
what happened between me and Rafe was just a stupid mistake. I
tried to explain to her that it was more than that, that the
feelings I had for Rafe weren't just a schoolgirl crush. I told her
I loved him, but she only heard what she wanted to hear.
EVEN YEARS LATER
relax for a minute? Take a breath, girl. You've done this a dozen
times before."
middle name, dude. Don't be telling people that's my middle name.
That's the kind of thing that sticks."
the stack on the table in front of me. "Oh yeah, my mistake. It
says here you're Madison Moriarty, the Gobi Rider."
white portrait on the dust cover. My publisher asked me to wear a
fedora. I couldn't tell you why I agreed. I may have had a few
drinks in me.
out, Mad. You're getting all squinky again."
for all my book signings, and she knows they freak me out more than
being caught in a dust storm on the Mongolian steppe.
I? It's been seven years, after all. I hope life has been treating
you well.
exactly work out. It turns out college really wasn't my thing. I
only lasted two semesters before I got frustrated by the endless
assignments and general bullshit of college. Mom and dad were
paying around $33,000 a year for fees, housing, books and every
other little thing that adds up to so much, and the idea of asking
them to spend that kind of money on a degree I wasn't sure I even
wanted just seemed a little silly.
taking long walks instead of going to class, and that's how I ended
up on the doorstep of the enormous Mormon temple off Santa Monica
Boulevard. Don't worry, I didn't find god and become a nun (or
whatever the Mormons have instead of nuns. They don't have nuns,
right?). No, I was just interested in the building. The temple
is... well, you have to see it. It's a pretty damned crazy looking
concrete castle, and I couldn't resist walking into the visitor
center to take a look inside.
guys who'd just returned to the States after a year of mission work
overseas. It turns out these LDS guys get everywhere. They walk the
world in their smart white shirts and black ties, knocking on the
doors of everyone from African tribesmen to Siberian reindeer
herders, trying to spread the good word.
that sounds like a pretty douchey thing to do, sort of like an
extremely polite version of the Crusades. You may be right, but
whether or not you like the idea of missionaries trying to impose
their values on folk in the developing world there's no denying
that it's a pretty cool way for a young person to spend their year
off between high school and college.
once a week down by the temple. I just couldn't get enough of their
stories, and my favorites by far were the tales told by Dwight, an
awkward little jug-eared kid who always looked like a ten year old
wearing his dad's suit. If you passed him in the street you'd swear
he was just starting high school, but this guy had spent a year
living in a ger – a big felt tent used by Mongolian herders – with
a family who didn't speak a word of English.
frontier, and the closest thing to the wild west that still exists.
He told me it was the most sparsely populated country on the
planet, with around three million people living in an area the size
of western Europe. He told me there were just a few paved roads in
the whole country, and that you could walk for weeks without coming
across another soul. From the capital city of Ulaanbaatar the
nearest McDonalds was 1,000 miles to the south in Beijing, on the
other side of the unimaginably vast Gobi Desert.
explained my problems with school to mom and dad. I told them I
didn't want to spend another three years staring blankly at a
whiteboard, and I didn't want them to have to spend another
$100,000 for a piece of paper. It took a lot of talking and a hell
of a lot of buttering up, but eventually I got dad to agree to let
me take a year out and give me $15,000 to visit Mongolia and 'get
it out of my system'. He was certain I'd be on the next flight home
after my first day without a power outlet for my curling iron.
flight home for the next 692 days.
living in my own ger. I taught myself Mongolian, learned how to
ride a horse and forced myself to learn how to slaughter and dress
a goat. I even learned how to tan hides and make my own leather
boots and a jacket. No more prissy pink sweaters for me.
is to be cold. In October the temperature dropped below freezing,
and it stayed there until one glorious, sunny morning in March. I
had only my coal fired stove to stave off the bitter cold, and when
the coal ran out I could only wrap up in layers and wait out the
weather. For weeks I shivered constantly, always on the verge of
tears but never succumbing to weakness. The winter toughened me. It
made me strong, and once I survived it I knew I could survive
anything the world could throw at me.
Other books
Three Button Trick and Other Stories by Nicola Barker
Little Suns by Zakes Mda
Sparks Fly: A Novel of the Light Dragons by MacAlister, Katie
Mail-Order Bride by Debbie Macomber
Young Man With a Horn by Dorothy Baker
The Empty Mirror by J. Sydney Jones
Asunder (Incarnate) by Meadows, Jodi
Some Lucky Day by Ellie Dean
The Cause of Death by Roger MacBride Allen
Crisis by Ken McClure