Hello, Little Sparrow by Jordan Jones (the reading list .TXT) 📕

at the same table were clapping to the tempo of the song and letting out celebratory cheers.

Is this what he was to become?

Brooks clapped once…then twice.

Again and again.

Then he clapped again until the end of the song. His confusion wasn’t displayed on his face, though he definitely felt it.

He was dismayed that this would be his life for the foreseeable future.

Another young woman got on the stage and started singing a song about sweating, and dancing, and drinking…much like the one before it.

Then the next song was much of the same.

“I love this one!” Mae eeked across the table from Brooks. She then belted out and matched the words coming through the speakers. She stood up and danced seductively around the rest of her co-workers, many of who were encouraging her with cheers of approval.

The way she glided around the table reminded Brooks of something.

Of someone.

Her gracefulness did not match the exorbitant noise forcing its way into his ears. She danced and swayed in every which direction, all on her own. The music did not guide her; nobody did.

She decided what moves to make, much like his sister. No one told her what to do, and no one told her how to do it.

Her elegance was unmatched by everyone in the bar, and though others joined her in dancing, she was alone, floating about.

Her eyes met Brooks’ and they shared a moment. Brooks knew she had a connection with him no one else could have.

The song ended too soon, and Mae laughed and stumbled back to her seat. Her smile lit up the table, as everyone gave each other high-fives for a dance well done.

“I hope I didn’t look too stupid,” she said, looking right at Brooks. “I just like to have fun sometimes. Work is so serious. We have to let loose sometimes.”

Brooks nodded in agreement as the DJ called Mae’s name up to sing. She sang the first song of the night that had nothing to do with sex, and Brooks could feel her singing about him. She couldn’t have planned it, because she didn’t know him thirty minutes ago, but somehow this song was directed solely at him.

Her voice was spot on, and her gracefulness followed her to the stage. Brooks sat in wonder as she sang lyrics about not wanting to be without someone.

This is it, he thought. This is my ticket to being like “them.”

Her song ended and Brooks stood up and cheered, whistling through his fingers to add more support. She returned exhausted to the table; sweat beads forming on her forehead.

“Whew!” She exclaimed. “OK, now I can relax for the rest of the night.” Her martini was empty and Brooks called a waiter over and paid for it to be refilled. She smiled at him and said, “Thank you! See? We’re not that bad. You should come out with us more often.”

“I think I might,” he said. He could finally begin to live a normal life…even better than before. Even before he killed William Henson, he struggled meeting people.

Not any longer. This was his new thing. He went out and partied with friends and had drinks.

This is what normal people do and what Brooks would now do.

“Do you want to go out sometime?” Mae asked suddenly. “You know, just the two of us?”

“Yes, er…yeah,” Brooks said. “Yeah that sounds like fun.”

“Let’s do tomorrow. I need to keep busy this weekend. Maybe pick me up around 2 or so? It’s a work night, so I don’t want to be out late,” she said, letting out a cute little laugh.

Brooks was in.

Society had accepted him after only an hour of acting normal. He thought he could get used to it.

This is who I am now, he thought. A sense of dread immediately followed the cathartic feeling of overwhelming acceptance because, deep down, Brooks knew it wouldn’t last.

Chapter Thirty-Three

I grabbed the chaser in front of me after taking a disgusting shot of whiskey.

My stomach let me know its limit by bringing back up all the alcohol I had in the evening and the bartender cut me off. The place was rowdy. I was sullen.

My mood clashed with the audience around me; most of them came with multiple people, but not me. I came alone and felt one hundred times so.

A bouncer came by and made sure I was all right to stay, but said I couldn’t order any more drinks, and I agreed. The music from the karaoke singers rattled my brain as he shouted to me from less than six inches away.

“You can’t be throwing up in here, man,” he shouted. “It’s bad for business. I can tell you were drunk when you came in, so I’ll let it slide, but you’re cut off the rest of the night.”

I nodded and gave him an awkward pat on the back as he left.

A woman sat across the bar from me…the same one Abraham left with the day Madison jumped off Covey Bridge. She was every bit as seductive as she was the last time I saw her and her eyes darted right through me.

Her hair was shorter than I remembered, but her features were contoured specifically for the dim lighting in at Lucky Charley’s, as if to say, “notice me and take me home.”

I ran several scenarios through my head what her Saturday nights looked like. She’d pour on the foundation and mascara, then pick out one lonely soul at the bar, take them home, and somehow feel better about herself.

Abraham told me he struck out during his turn with her, but didn’t delve into what actually happened. I wasn’t curious.

I didn’t much care for one night stands. It took everything in me to get out of bed