Page 11 of Grave Beginnings

“Maybe a biscuit with honey?”

“Sure,” I said, taking his stuff too. Ivan tentatively ran his fingertips down Peanut Butter’s back.

I warmed up three biscuits, adding a honey drizzle and a sprinkle of cinnamon and sugar. It was a simple treat, but something my grandmother had done all the time whenever I’d had abad day. Balancing three plates, I made my way back to the living room and passed them out.

Ivan took it, studying the biscuit like he’d never seen it before. Hadn’t Grandma ever made it for him? I devoured mine, then headed to the kitchen to clean up, which helped me think and gave them some time in case Ivan wanted to share something with Grandpa, but neither of them said anything. Grandpa shuffled his way into the kitchen with their plates.

“I can help,” he said.

I frowned.

“Don’t make me beat you with my cane, boy.”

I snorted. “As if. You can dry.” He had a dishwasher but rarely used it. “Ivan can have the couch. I’ll take the floor.”

Grandpa said nothing for a few minutes.

“Do you want me to leave?” I asked carefully. He could only hide Ivan here for so long and since I’d signed the papers at the hospital, if Ivan did anything wrong, social services and maybe the cops would come looking for me.

“He’s always been variant,” Grandpa said after a long moment.

I blinked at him. “What?”

“Your parents tried to hide it, but it came out in his first year of school, and he was marked.”

“Holy fuck.”

“They moved him to a private school, but the bullying didn’t stop. First time he was hospitalized for SI, he was nine.”

“What the hell?” I clapped my hands over my mouth, hoping Ivan hadn’t heard. A thousand things ran through my head. Not all of them nice. I let out a long breath. “You think this was another attempt?” I’d tried to give the kid privacy and not read through his discharge papers, but after everyone went to bed, I intended to look them over.

Grandpa shrugged.

I sighed and we finished washing the dishes in silence. WhenI returned to the living room, Ivan was curled up in the chair with his eyes closed, Peanut Butter snoozing in his lap. Grandpa shuffled by, disappearing into his room for a minute and then returning with some pajamas which he set down on the arm of Ivan’s chair. I folded a few old comforters into a pile on the floor near the kitchen for myself and made my way to the bathroom to change into PJs for the night.

Grandpa hadn’t asked me to go home, and I really worried that Ivan might do something to himself if I left. Should I hide the knives? I’d only ever once experienced SI myself, and I’d been not much older than Ivan, freshly kicked out of the only home I ever knew. Had my folks kicked him out too?

“You can have the couch,” I told Ivan as he lifted Peanut Butter off his lap and grabbed the clothes Grandpa left for him. “I’ll take the floor.”

He stared at me for a few seconds before getting up and taking his turn in the bathroom. Grandpa and I shared a look, but I hoped that sleeping between the living room and the kitchen meant I’d wake up if Ivan tried to find something to hurt himself with. I’d had a handful of encounters with people looking for suicide by cop during my career, and had a knack for calming folks down. As long as I got there before the regular beat cops, I could talk everyone back from the ledge. But I never thought it would be my baby brother.

Everyone settled for the night, and I lay down, mind racing with worry in the dark. Peanut Butter shuffled over, nuzzling my cheek for pets until we both heard Ivan settle. The cat accepted a few more chin scratches before wandering off. He’d either sleep with Grandpa to keep an eye on the old man he adored, or close to Ivan.

I closed my eyes and counted sheep until I finally dozed off.

4

Peanut Butter woke me.He nipped my chin, meaning he’d been trying to wake me for a while. I blinked into the dark of the room, taking a few seconds to recall I was at Grandpa’s, and wondering why the cat thought I needed to be awake at two in the morning.

I heard the door open and close with a gentleclick. Fuck.

I jolted up, finding the couch empty, bathroom door open, and Ivan’s bag missing. Where the hell was he going to go?

“Keep an eye on Grandpa,” I whispered to Peanut Butter. I jumped into my shoes, grabbed my keys, and headed out the door after him. Scanning the darkness, I searched for movement. Halfway down the street I saw him and raced his way, hoping he didn’t actually run. Two in the morning was the worst time for an impromptu marathon.

I caught up to him, jogging to his side, and matching his pace. He sighed.

“Can I ask where you’re going to go?”