WISHBONE (28 page)

She spoke into the cell phone, “Yeah, no, everything’s okay, Matt. I just ran for the phone is all.”

Julien’s shoulders slumped, overcome with relief and satisfaction, he sat staring at the device on his leg; suppressing both laughter and tears.

I will heal.

It was the right thing to do.

Rachael turned back to face her husband. “Yeah, okay, here he is, you too. Uh, yeah…tell her I said hi and I’ll call her later.” Rachael dropped the phone into Julien’s lap. 

He tried to get himself together quickly but his emotions were strong.

“Matt?” his voice broke and he closed his eyes awaiting the proof in his own ears.

“How ya doin’, man?”  Matt asked.

Julien could hardly contain himself. “Good,” he replied. “Yourself?”

Matt had his suspicions.
“Really
? I mean, it’s going okay? You’re doing better?”  

Julien’s voice cracked, “No, I’m okay…really. Better…
much better
.” 

It was only moments into the conversation when Matt, concerned,  felt something wasn’t right; Julien was noticeably not himself. He made a week attempted at humor, “What the hell do they have you on? Save some of that shit for me, okay.”

Julien shook it off and worked harder to contain his newly acquired and unreliable emotions. He too, was not used to
this new Julien
. So much had happened, so many traumas in a relatively short amount of time. His bravado was gone, his confidence depleted, his emotions uncontrollable; even a newly developed stutter that, coupled with his quickly worsening and stress-induced accent, made him even more difficult to understand.

Rachael stood there watching him talk to Matt. She was unexpectedly overcome with guilt. This was Julien’s opportunity to heal himself, take the baby from her, even banish them back to the city, and yet he had selflessly made the choice to resurrect Matt and Lily, an option that she chose to ignore since their inadvertent deaths. Consumed with sudden remorse—something she hadn’t experienced in some time—Rachel silently encouraged Sarah to help collect their meal and left Julien to converse in private.

Julien stayed on with Matt for as long as his friend would talk. They discussed everything from the agency to the weather, before Julien was forced to lie once again; he tried to convince Matt of all the reasons why this was not a good time for a visit.

“Truthfully, all I do is sleep,” he said. “You would come all the way up here and I would probably sleep straight through your visit. Give me some time, okay. I don’t want anyone seeing this mess anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Julien.”

“No, seriously,” he contended. “Just give me some time, please.”

“But you’re doing okay? You don’t need anything? You don’t want some company?” Matt couldn’t put his finger on it, something did not equate. Matt tried to convince himself that this was to be expected, but the changes seemed a drastic for what boiled down to
a broken leg
. He didn’t know how to interact with a more vulnerable version of Julien, who, while not quite old enough, had formerly filled a lacking paternal role in Matt’s life. Listening to the shakiness of his voice, the stammering of his words, even the accent had augmented with vengeance; it was a bitter pill to swallow and he looked forward to having the old Julien back, hopefully soon. They chatted a while longer until Matt had to return to work.  Julien seemed reluctant to let him go and when they finally did hang up, Matt had a hard time moving on with his day.

* * * *

Julien sat reliving his conversation with Matt, over and over again, in his mind. The sun was shifting toward the mountains, placing him in the shade. He contemplated what Rachael might do to get back at him for this. 

Face the music… 

It is worth it, no?

You made the right decision.

He looked down at the device, which he had all but forgotten about from the moment he heard Matt’s voice. It was beginning to ache now, but in comparison to dealing with Rachael and asking for his medication, the pain seemed bearable
—
at least for a while longer. Despite the throbbing, he smiled as he replayed some of the
Matt-isms
running through his mind. He repositioned himself awkwardly and nestled back into the chaise.

Ouai…you did the right thing.

* * * *

In the nursery, Rachael ran the gamut of emotions. She was furious with Julien for pulling such a stunt and coercing Sarah to join him in his deliberate, deceitful behavior; yet he claimed to be hell-bent on regaining her trust. She was equally angry with Sarah for allowing it, or for not having the ability to understand why she should not have allowed it. Giving Julien that wishbone could have ended disastrously
…But it didn’t,
she thought. 

Why hadn’t
she
thought to correct her ill-worded wish and bring their friends back? For a brief moment, she began to wonder if Julien had been right, that the wishes
were
immoral, and then she looked down at her sleeping angel.
This can never happen again
, she told herself. She had only begun to rebuild her trust for Julien and trusting him again could be tragic. Satisfied the baby was safe; Rachael left the nursery to find Sarah washing dishes in the kitchen.

“What were you thinking?” Rachael hissed from the doorway.

Sarah, alarmed, dropped a handful of silverware to clatter at the bottom of the sink. She gasped and spun around to face Rachael.

Rachael moved slowly toward her. On the counter sat the hacked remnants of the chicken carcass. She dug her finger into the bird where the wishbone had once been, then shoved the bird into the sink, irritably clearing the counter with a fast sweep of her arms. Sarah crouched to the floor as if expecting a beating. At the sight of the girl’s terror, Rachael’s anger amplified. She squatted down beside her.

“Never,” she snarled, “never trust him! Do you hear me?” 

Sarah nodded emphatically as she scanned the floor for an escape route.

“Do you know what he could have done?” Rachael asked, remembering the sleeping baby above and lowering her voice. “He’s not your friend, Sarah.
I…am your friend
,” she said adamantly. “He wanted you gone and he wants Jessica gone!”

Sarah pressed her back into the cabinets as she sat trembling. She shook her head slowly in protest against Rachael’s words.

“No, no Sarah. Don’t get confused here. God knows what his plan is. We’ve both been too trusting lately,” she tried to console her, “and what he pulled out there is proof.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes; she was confused and hurt. Her head cocked as she listened to Rachael.

“Do you understand me, Sarah? Do you? He is using you.” Rachael reached for Sarah’s arm, but the girl scrambled to the right, skidding along the slate floor on her hands and newly scraped knees. 

“Hey!” Rachael snapped and reached out to grab her, but missed. “Sarah, listen to me...” 

Sarah shook her head resentfully and scurried under the table and out the other side.

Rachael had hoped to scare Sarah back into a position of loyalty, but she could see she was crossing the fine line and only succeeding in making the girl
less trusting
.

She toned it down, “Okay, Sarah…it’s okay...”  Rachael got to her feet, but before she could move around the table to join her, Sarah was up and running for the door. 

“Wait Sarah, no! I didn’t mean…God, damn it!” Rachael shoved a chair out of her way in frustration.

From the kitchen window, she watched Sarah dart around the house. There was no use in chasing after her; she moved like streaked lightening. 

Rachael assured herself the girl would be back. She would not stay away from Julien for long. She sat down at the table, her head in her hands.
What have I done? What am I doing?
Why am I the only one who seems to be happy?
The world was their oyster, yet her own husband couldn’t see it. She thought to herself,
Julien had not wished the baby away. He hadn’t even wished himself to be healed. His wish had been for the benefit of others. He saved lives.
 

With the exception of Jessica, all of Rachael’s wishes had been for
things
. Worse, she had wished Julien pain and suffering. She tried to comfort herself by reasoning that Julien would have experienced that pain regardless had they never been given the miracle of the wishbones. 
After all, he was the one who didn’t want the wishes.
Her guilt crept back as she once again rode the rollercoaster of instability, always returning to the simple fact that Julien had selflessly brought back Lily and Matt.
That was all he had wanted.
She fought back tears, confused and disappointed in herself, she began to sob. 

“What am I doing?” she asked herself aloud as she fumbled for a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of Julien’s leather jacket, hanging on the back of the chair beside her. Out of reach, she brought the jacket into her lap. She could smell the scent of him on the jacket’s lining. She missed him. Pushing her hair back behind an ear, she took a long drag off a smoke then chewed at her pinky nail deep in thought. Sarah was mad at her now.
Who knows…there may be no more wishes after this anyway
, she warned herself then thought of the large number of chickens remaining in the barn—an embarrassing comfort to her. She figured Sarah had run off to the coop and thought to walk over and apologize, but before she could make the effort, her mind wandered again, this time to the city. 

She thought about those months prior to their move: how Julien had stuck it out, no matter how badly she treated him, or how sick she had become. She thought about their first days in the Victorian, how quickly she had regained her confidence. How she had kept her pregnancy a secret from him for months, and how he could have been irreconcilably angry. She could not have blamed him if he had left her then, alone in that apartment, isolated and losing her mind...
but he hadn’t
. He had taken care of her. Dealt with whatever she threw at him, with the patience of a saint, yet now she had the power to take away any pain or problem he would ever experience and instead she was the one inflicting it upon him. She cringed in disgrace and sobbed again. 

* * * *

Sarah came through the trees allowing for a distant view of the pool. She mumbled and turned in circles, banging her tightly-clenched fists against her thighs. She stopped, panting and confused, then peeked through the trees once more. She could see Julien in the chaise lounge sound asleep and bit down hard on the knuckle of a crooked finger. She began pounding her fist repeatedly against her forehead in frustration. She turned around again in several small circles and shut her eyes tight then pressed her fists firmly into their sockets; colorful fireworks exploded in the darkness as she applied pressure. She rocked for a long while, attempting to calm herself with the soothing motion, but her agitation was unwavering. She opened her eyes, anguished; she continued to watch Julien through the foliage.

* * * *

Before he felt it, the cracking sound of an explosive slap startled Julien awake. His eyes shot open just as the chaise crashed over on its side, taking him with it to the cement. The metal attached to his leg slammed to the ground with an unforgiving whack, knocking the wind out of him. With no time to recover, he felt himself rising and knew immediately—
Jérome
. He tried to grip the edge of the cement where it met the grass, but it was just out of reach. He struggled to drag himself away, but Jérome had a tight hold on the device. He gave Julien a hard tug followed by the sound of tearing material as he took hold of Julien’s shirt, lifting him into the air and tossing him to the grass several feet away with a loud thud.

Julien, propelled by adrenaline, flipped himself over to face his father, but lay there defenseless.

You can’t fight him.

Don’t fight him.

This is it.

Just give up.

I give up.

Let him do it.

Do it fast. 

Please, do it fast.

Jérome came toward Julien again, this time twisting the neck of his shirt tightly around a winding fist below his chin, enough to hamper Julien’s ability to breathe. Jérome hoisted his son upright with one hand, but Julien’s body refused to comply. Jérome cruelly slammed him back against a tree to steady his target.

“Julien!” Rachael cried, stunned by what she was witnessing. She couldn’t make sense of the scene, as she watched his body move unnaturally, flying backward against a tree. She rushed from the side of the house catching sight of Sarah looking on from the far end of the pool.

Jérome had Julien braced against the bark as he pulled his fist back, ready to strike. The sound of Rachael screaming stopped him in mid-motion and he turned to look at her running in their direction. Jérome spun his head back around to find Sarah who stood silently watching them. He let go of Julien, dropping him to the ground then vanishing just as Rachael passed through his apparition.

“Julien…Julien,” Rachael whimpered, throwing herself down beside him. She looked over toward the trees. “Sarah!” she screamed for the girl to help.

Sarah was backing away, but froze at the sound of her name then timidly obeyed Rachael and stepped carefully out beside the pool.

“Sarah, come! Help me.” Rachael looked at Julien lying motionless face-down in the grass. His eyes were open, but he was unresponsive.

“Jules, please…” Frightened, she pleaded with him to respond then pressed her ear to his back and listened for a heartbeat. She sat up, pulling at her own hair by the fistful. 

“
What the fuck!” s
he screamed at Sarah, out of her mind with dismay.
What was that? What just happened?

Sarah kept a few feet of distance from Rachael, but stood quietly beside them ringing her hands nervously and rocking back and forth. Confused, she couldn’t please Rachael, who at times said horrible things about Julien and at other times seemed to protect him.