Re-Arranged

Chapter Twenty Seven

Darian smacked his lips, drummed fingers of one hand over the over, and stared at the ceiling of a room he had not laid eyes on since it was newly constructed. Formerly Ben's room, it no longer resembled anything remotely of the little troublemaker.

He looked to his side at the bed looming a couple feet away. The figure over it slept very still on his side. Darian wondered if he should call Sawyer out for faking it.

It had not been a particularly difficult conversation to have regarding the new sleeping arrangement. In fact, it had been no conversation at all. A nod here, a nod there, minimal eye contact – and there they were. Two practical strangers sleeping the night off in a shared room on the insistence of the one person connecting them.

This could not get more awkward.

The curtains shivered under the ceiling fan, and along with it, the strips of moonlight sneaking in through the windows danced along the wall and the floor as well. If not for the slow rhythm and the general lack of honking, the pattern of light would feel like midnight traffic on a highway passing by.

...and Darian hated how his mind kept veering into these monotonous comparisons and metaphors. He sighed and turned over to sleep for good. He heard the rustle of sheets on the bed as well, but he did not bother opening his eyes to check.

"You could be an Internet person for all I cared."

What?

Darian could not be sure he had heard it right. Sawyer spoke in almost a whisper.

"I don't know you, you don't know me. If I told you anything, it would be like talking to someone with a username 'Anonymous'." Sawyer sat up on the bed, pulling the covers over his midsection. He pulled out a set of black earphones from his ears and stared at them for a moment. In the dim light, their wire was almost invisible. He picked up his phone and removed the cord. He raised his eyes to the desk in the corner and stared at where he knew the particular book to be, the book which had been on his father's bedside until his last breath.

"I... I gotta try," he mumbled, more to himself, as he gripped his phone tightly. Swallowing hard, he unlocked the device. A half played audio file stared at him. He adjusted it so it would play from a previous point before he put it on.

Darian recognized the digitalized voices. Only then did he open his eyes.

*

Kelly: "...from them?"

A long pause followed.

Sawyer: "I'm out of a family now."

Kelly, very carefully, as if negotiating for someone to step off thin ice: "What... what do you mean?"

Sawyer, strangely stoic, devoid of emotions: "Winslow sent a message while I was writing the exam. To check the e-mail. To take it as the end of communication. To not bother to reply to him. Any questions that I had can be asked and answered by the person sending the e-mail."

A small pause, defined by the clatter of a spoon.

Sawyer: "So, I checked the e-mail. It was our father's solicitor." Deep breath. "They divided assets as per the will, and then liquidated some more to add to my balance, and called it the end of all negotiation. A little diplomatic note was attached too."

Tap, tap, tap of fingers over glass.

Sawyer: "'If it feels too sudden, we apologize. However, dragging it on is not going to be good for our mother's health and mental stability we feel. She's doing well with us, so you need not be worried. What we're really trying to say here is that this is our kind of giving you an out. You are free from the obligations of being a Whitley. With love, Winslow, Shawna and Wednesday.'"