Soul Fire

almost excited, but also a little afraid of the craziness in his eyes. I walked away, out onto the terrace, to give him time to calm down. It
was a good night to argue. Parties would drown out our voices.
    ‘Except he followed me out before he cooled off. Called me the usual names but with some hatred. You can guess. I never came out as gay to my mother or my father, but I think they knew.
For him it was as though I was gay only to shame him.
    ‘I argued back. For the first time ever, I pushed him away when he went to strike me.’
    ‘And that’s when you fell?’
    He doesn’t seem to have heard me. ‘You should have seen his face, Alice. The idea that I might resist, it had never occurred to him. For a moment, I felt ecstatic. But then . . .
then he came back at me. I was taller than him. Broader. And, of course, alcohol had made him old for his age. But I wasn’t expecting it . . .’
    ‘And?’
    ‘And. Well, you can guess. But what maybe you can’t guess is that as I toppled, I almost felt I had won. No pain. Just . . . the knowledge that he couldn’t ever harm me again.
After I got to the Beach, I rationalised it – that it was better for Mama and the girls to believe it was an accident. Maybe my father would have learned his lesson by killing me. But now . .
. Alice, what if my sisters think the same as Gabe – that I left them on purpose?’
    ‘Javier—’
    Sweat forms on the back of my neck; someone is behind me. I turn slowly, half expecting to see Sahara or even Zoe.
    But it’s just the guy who runs the shop. ‘Problem?’
    We both look at the screen now. ‘No. I’m just waiting for the page to load.’
    The man gives me a strange look, then says, ‘Now you pay one hour and half,’ and goes back to the front of the store. He’s soldering something, without gloves. That’s
where the scars must come from.
    ‘Are you there, Alice?’ Javier asks. ‘I thought I heard something else.’
    ‘It’s nothing. Someone else in the internet place, that’s all.’
    ‘Ah. It sounded like . . . fireworks.’
    I can’t hear anything in here except the hum of the computer and the monitors. ‘Javier. I might have to go soon, but I want to say that I understand now – why you’ve
always said you prefer the Beach to your old life.’
    He sniffs. ‘That was before I realised that being on the Beach did not mean I would be free of the pain of losing people.’
    ‘You still want to leave, Javier? You still want me to help you?’
    ‘What I want . . . What I want most is to know if they are all right. My family. Whether I escape or not, now, seems irrelevant to me. Peace, or heaven, or whatever you want to call it. I
want that for the living. We dead do not count.’
    ‘That’s not true, Javier, you deserve—’
    He interrupts me. ‘Alice. If you want to help me , help them.’
    ‘Of course. But how?’
    ‘It depends on whether he is still there. How long are you in the city?’
    ‘Only till tomorrow evening.’ I realise this means nothing to him. ‘Another day and a half. Plus the night, of course. It’s not long, but I’ll do whatever I
can.’
    ‘I suppose it must start with finding out if they are happy. Although . . . I am not sure I can bear it if they are not.’
    ‘Maybe I should only tell you if it is good news,’ I suggest. ‘If not, then I will pretend they were not at home.’ Even though it’ll be another terrible secret I
will end up having to keep forever.
    ‘But if the news is bad there may still be a way for us to change things, Alice. Or for you to change things.’
    Sometimes it’s terrifying, the trust the Guests have in me. And why? Just because I’m alive doesn’t mean I’m all powerful. Yet, what else can I do but say yes? ‘You
know this could mean . . . things change for you, too?’ I warn Javier gently.
    Javier laughs softly. ‘Life is change, Alice. So is death. Do you have a pen?’
    I write down the address where he lived; he has to spell it for me. ‘It means Happy Town Street, if you can believe that,’ he says. ‘If you are near the main beach, then you
are also near my home. Rosa looks the most like me, you might see her playing in the street. I taught her football – how to kick, in case she had to. Maybe now she’s different, though
– into dresses and boys. Maybe now she’s . . . safe.’
    ‘And if I see your father?’
    He laughs but it sounds so hollow. ‘Oh, Alice. I hope you will not. Because if you do, I fear