The Corpse of Addenbrooke Island

Tired heads swayed in the walls of Devin and Kione’s home: it was late, and their children were put to bed by Kione’s brother, Hanley, hours ago. Only the three adults were awake now, collecting the fireplace’s acrid smoke in their clothes and fighting their heavy joints in the sitting room.

Devin picked at his nails, growing uneasy as Hanley paced and crackled from the electricity his socks created by rubbing against the carpet. If only we could attach him to the generator, Devin considered. Hanley insisted that he was unplagued, merely energetic and wide-awake from an exciting day. But Devin knew better, as his pacing was clumsy, and his posture slouched.

“Maybe you should read a book then,” Kione offered, “to get your energy to settle. I’ll make tea, it’ll help.”

She slipped into the next room, and the stifling air thickened and rose in her absence as if it were being cooked into a sauce. The frost that had been settled around Devin’s brain now dripped down his forehead and chin. He sank and faded into his chair, picturing a bed. I could just say that I’m feeling unwell and need rest… Devin prepared to speak, but Hanley, still sparking with every footstep and unbothered by the heat, had his back on Devin and took to racing over the collection of books on the wall.

“The Corpse of Addenbrooke Island…” Hanley flickered over a cherry spine.

Devin reanimated and seized the book's name as it dispersed through the room. “Once I did believe that I held a full cup and that the cottonwood branch was proof that he and I were born of one star.”

“What?” The rising excitement halted, fell to the ground, and shattered.

“From the book,” Devin offered.

In the other room, Kione cursed at a whistling kettle. Devin and Hanley dropped their attention to an empty doorway and shivered. Stinging peppermint tore through the air as she poured water into three mugs and glass clinked against the spoon used to stir in the honey. Devin’s muscles twitched as the noise died away and the fire regained control of the room. I had, but I have not. Indeed, we were always made of dust from a different explosion entirely. Devin considered saying the rest of the quote.

Hanley glowered. “I’ve never read The Corpse of Addenbrooke Island.”

“Oh. Sorry, I figured you had. It seemed like the kind of book that you would have read. I figured, because, you know… well, I’m not sure why, honestly.”

Devin chuckled, but his face reddened, and his throat closed until he became aware of how uncomfortably his tongue sat behind his teeth. If Hanley had noticed a change, he was unphased. He hummed and continued perusing the rows of books and reading their titles aloud.

“The Corpse of Addenbrooke Island is garbage,” Kione stormed in, rattling the three mugs on a tray. “I told you, Hanley has better taste in books than you do, Devin. Leave the romantic quotes to him, yeah?”

Ice crept up Devin’s arm from the windowsill and bit until his skin turned blue. Freezing was a familiar side effect of Kione’s affection, but Devin moved his arm and tried to sink away into his chair and the fire’s heat. A different explosion entirely. Kione offered a mug in his direction, which he grabbed and shook as the steam wavered to his raw cheeks.

Hanley scowled at Kione over his shoulder and stomped at an ember that was spat from the firepit and singed on the carpet. “You know, now that I think about it, The Corpse of Addenbrooke Island sounds familiar. It’s on my list, I think. Devin, how about you read me a few of your favourite parts so I can decide whether I should read it or not?”

Kione scoffed, “Devin doesn’t have a favourite part, you know he hates reading. Especially romance. He only read that book in the last week because he thought he could impress you by quoting it.”

Devin’s teeth chattered, unable to press an objection out. That’s not true, he wanted to say, I wouldn’t read to impress anyone. His tongue swelled and he choked. It was for the best: Hanley was always quick to identify a lie, anyway.

A smoky, almond-like cloud wrapped around Devin and wafted to his core. He jolted with the realization that Hanley had teleported from across the room and now held the book in his face. “Please?”

“Waste of time,” Kione grumbled and held the second mug to her brother.

Hanley huffed and gestured the book at Devin impatiently. Devin took a sip of his tea to try and still his trembling bones, but the water was already lukewarm and failed to thaw him. He set the mug on the windowsill and took the book with a loose grip.

Uncertainty clung to Devin’s weary head as he palmed over the soft leather cover. Kione was right, he did not have a favourite part of the book: he did not even have a liked part. He flipped to a random page, feigning confidence in his action, and scoured for a meaningful quote.

“And he told me to wait then pulled a knife from his belt. I was startled by the gleam of the hidden blade, but I waited patiently, and he cut the branch off a twisted tree.” Hanley towered over Devin with his arms folded. Crap, Devin gripped the book tighter.

“That’s it?” Kione grumbled and shifted on the sofa.

“No, no, there’s more.” Devin cleared his throat. “He said, ‘This is a cottonwood tree,’ and handed me the branch. ‘Long ago, stars exploded into dust and began a new existence here. These trees are special you see because they carry a reminder of where we come from.’ I ran a finger over the smooth cut on the branch and admired the space between the thin ring: there, clear and bold, was the shape of a star.”

Kione laughed, shrill and dry. Hanley raised a brow at Kione but nodded encouragingly as Devin checked to make sure everyone was still listening. As if Hanley’s static energy was transferring through the floor and into his seat, Devin buzzed with more purpose and flipped to another random page.

“My body was lost in a fire lit by my beloved on Addenbrooke Island. I laid there on purpose, you see, and I let the fire’s stomach consume my essence only to scatter me away in smoke.” Devin rose from his seat and gestured dramatically.

“I laid there bitterly, I laid there waiting. I laid there and expected the arms of my darling to pull me away before I was gone. I laid there for naught: he did not collect my ashes; I did not begin a new existence like the stars.”

Pages turned in a blur. Each following quote brought Hanley to laugh at Devin’s enthusiasm and lose more of his electricity into the floor. Kione retorted with criticism of the lousy writing and plotline.

“This is a waste of a perfectly fine evening; I’m so bored I think I could wither away. I’m going to bed now.” Kione yawned and stretched out emphatically. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Devin and Hanley muttered in unison.

The draught spilled from the room and followed Kione through the doorway, and the fire rose higher and stronger. Devin stood beside the bookshelf and rubbed a yellowing page between his thumb and forefinger, briefly considering turning to another page. A different explosion entirely. He slammed the book closed instead, wincing at his unintentional aggression. Hanley jumped and took in Devin’s figure from his seat.

“I had, but I have not. Indeed, we were always made of dust from a different explosion entirely.” Hanley offered a smile at Devin’s surprise, “yes, of course, I’ve read the book.”

“Then why did you say you hadn’t?”

He shrugged, “I wasn’t in a good enough temper to manage Kione’s pretentious opinions. Besides, I figured getting you to read would bore her away so I could finally relax. She gets horribly overbearing sometimes.”

“Well, your plan worked all right, then. Though I think that her opinion is right this time. This book is garbage.”

“Yes, I agree.” They laughed in the amber glow, and, for the first time in the night, both sat comfortably and warm until the fire slowly died away.