Page 49 - WTP VOl. XIII #2

Via is sobering up. That goddamn monocle fits per- fectly.
Slowly, she tilts her head to the side. The monocle doesn’t budge.
It fits.
Via’s laughing, a violent, almost dusty sound, bracing herself against the edge of her sink as her ribs threaten to collapse. Why the fuck does it fit?
After she’s properly pajamaed, she takes a picture of it sitting in her palm and sends it to her brother. An hour later, her phone dings with a reply: what the fuck
Via doesn’t reply. The monocle stays on all night. ~
Isra’s broken up with some girl again. Via’s honestly not sure if it’s the same girl he was talking about a few weeks ago or someone new, or if he’s still “ex- perimenting” with “ethical non-monogamy” but this one seems to be particularly troublesome. He looks like he’s operating under 12 less hours of sleep than normal and he needs a haircut really bad.
Via thinks about telling him that. “—what should I do?”
She’s not going to tell him that. “Huh?” “I said—”
“You sound nine years old right now.”
“I said. How do I get her to unblock me?”
Via chews the ice at the bottom of her cup of soda. “You don’t.”
“Fuck.”
If Via and Isra weren’t siblings, they definitely wouldn’t be friends. But they are, and as much as Via sometimes wants to tell him to fuck off, he’s her dealer and he’s the only person that looks her in the eyes and he’s in law school so she’s kind of worried he’s going to kill himself sometimes.
“Was that picture a cry for help?” Isra asks while he’s halfway through a fry.
“It was a monocle.”
“I didn’t know they still made those.” “Me neither.”
“Like that guy from Thomas the Train.”
Via’s phone is already in her hand and she’s putting guy from thomas the train in Safari. “He doesn’t even have glasses.”
“He definitely does.”
She shoves the phone in her brother’s face. Making a gross grunting noise, Isra returns to his fries. They eat their burgers in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he starts speaking again. He’s in a chatty mood. It’s weird.
“You didn’t answer my question. Is it a cry for help or what?” His voice is an octave higher than normal.
“No, I was a little baked. I thought it was funny.”
Isra’s face cracks into a smile that looks so much like the face he made at three when he would shit his pants and not tell anyone. It’s enough to make Via grin a little bit. “Okay.” He squints at her for a second. “Did you take any pictures?”
“No.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.” Via can’t meet his eyes. “I did wear it around though.”
An older lady with a tiny peach fuzz mustache turns around and glares at Isra’s cackle. Via stares at her. The old lady meets her eyes, does a double take, and then turns back around.
“People are fucking annoying.” Isra says. She just
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