Chloe Spencer [Spencer - 3 A.M.

3 A.M.

By Chloe Spencer

Published by JMS Books LLC

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2019 Chloe Spencer

ISBN 9781634869737

Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the authors imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

* * * *

To Robin Harper.

* * * *

3 A.M.

By Chloe Spencer

A blue betta fish named Slurpy. That was what finally convinced Phillip to dump my older brother Mizu. Not the countless times they cheated on each other, or the surprising number of holes they had punched through the drywall of their rent house. Nope. It took my brother coming home one night to find that the dishes from the night before still hadnt been washed, and as payback, he flushed Phillips fish down the toilet.

My volatile brother was immensely proud of his actions. When Phillip came home that night, Mizu marched him into the bathroom, pointed to the empty fishbowl on the counter, and unceremoniously announced, I flushed your fish, fucker. Only Phillip didnt react this time. He didnt scream, punch holes in the wall, or find a pretty girl to fuck on Tinder. He just stared at the toilet, his hands hanging limply at his sides. He told me that he knew in that moment that it was over, because he couldnt find the motivation to engage with Mizu.

When you cant fight, Kuro, Phillip explained, thats when you know that its over.

They didnt always used to fight, Mizu and Phillip. During our childhood, the three of us played together harmoniously. We spent hours playing pretend outside. In the land of make believe, we were Power Rangers and Jedi Knights, always fighting against evil. On the days the cold was too bitter to bear, wed spend hours watching Cartoon Network and doodling in coloring books we got from the Dollar Store.

Phillip lived next door with his bougie parents, who were professors at the University of Minnesota Twin Cities. Shortly after I was born, my mother struggled with postpartum depression, and thought that moving closer to her family would help. My father, although resentful that he would have to give up his life in New York, agreed to make the move when he secured a job at a consulting firm in downtown Minneapolis.

Since I was a baby, I have no memories of the day we moved into our house on 43 rd Avenue. But the scrapbooks full of pictures make me think I was actually there that day. My favorite is one of Mizu and Phillip, their arms wrapped around each others shoulders, grinning but squinting at the flash. Phillips been a part of my life since before I can even remember. Still, it came as a shock to my mother when we decided to move in together.

You would think that moving in with your brothers ex-boyfriend so shortly after they separated was a bad idea. And you would be right. But Phillip isnt just my brothers ex, hes also a longtime friendand crush. When Mizu kicked his ass to the curb, I was getting ready to move into my new apartment. After Phillip called me up and told me what happened, sobbing about his dead betta fish, I felt like my dreams of being with him became that much more attainable. Mizu had his chance to make Phillip happy. Here was mine.

Our Minneapolis apartment sat on the intersection of 15 th Street and LaSalle Avenue, close to my community college. It was a nice area, populated with small businesses and trendy cafes, but the building was anything but nice. The wallpaper was peeling, the sink was leaking, and some of the lightbulbs were shattered. When we moved in, Phillip saw the glass littering the floor of our bathroom and he shook his head.

Were paying over a grand a month for this? he asked, placing his hands on his hips.

I have spare light bulbs in one of these boxes. I could go dig around for them.

He shook his head again. Get me a dustpan first.

I fetched it from the closet by the front door and gave it to him. As I watched him sweep up the scraps with the pathetically tiny broom, I couldnt help but feel wracked with anxiety, like somehow this was my fault.

Im sorry.

He looked up at me, surprised. What, did you smash all the lightbulbs before we moved in?

No, I justdo you want me to clean it? I reached for the broom, but he removed it from my grasp.

He smiled at me. Its fine, Kuro. Sweep, sweep, sweep. Did we get all the boxes from the car?

Yeah, I think I got everything. Phillip and I didnt have many belongings, so in total, we moved in about fifteen boxes, three suitcases, and one Gibson guitar mine. Everything was piled up in our living room beneath the ceiling fan.

Cool, he said. When does your mom want us to swing by with the moving truck?

Not until tomorrow morning. She wants us to meet her at the house at ten A.M.

Phillip dumped the scraps in the trash can. Okay. Do we have sleeping bags?

Yeah, its in one of the boxes.

But of course, when I went to look for them later, they were missing. I stared into boxes full of packing peanuts as if they were a bottomless abyss. I remembered to pack my extra toilet bowl cleaner and Ajax, but essentials like sleeping gear? Nowhere to be found. My chest constricted with panic, wondering where they could have gone. Phillip tapped my shoulder.

You cant find them, can you?

No, I said, my throat tightening.

He squeezed my shoulders, his thumbs kneading the center of my spine. Take a deep breath. Weve got blankets, dont we? Lets just sleep on the floor.

We found the blankets, stretched them out, and laid them on the floor. We piled them high, one on top of the other, each one fluffier than the last. Phillip laughed, flopping down on top of them. He propped himself up on his side and looked at me.

Do you remember, he said, when we were little, and wed used to have sleepovers in your basement? Wed lay out the blankets just like this. And throw all of our toys and books on top, and not get up?

I smiled, sitting down next to him. I remember.

You were terrified of the furnace, he said. One winter, it came on in the middle of the night with this massive roar and clanking. Like a jet engine taking off. You immediately woke up and started bawling. You cried so much that your tears soaked through my shirt.

I dont remember that, but it sounds accurate. I was a crybaby.

You werent. That damn thing was creepy . When it was on, you could see the red glowing light through the slits and it looked like a Terminator . If I was just a little younger, I would have been crying, too.

Where was Mizu?

Sound asleep.

* * * *

That night we ordered a pizza and salty barbecue wings from Roccos Pizza Parlour. We laid on the floor, watching Vine compilations on YouTube. Exhausted from hauling boxes all day, we decided to call it a night around eight P.M.