Major Detours

by Zachary Sergi

  That Lily can keep her mother from haunting us any further.

  Click here

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHASE

  IF I WERE in my right mind, I’d be enjoying the hell out of this. I’d be giddy, winding through the gilded halls of a secret Victorian island mansion. I’d be marveling at the stone statues and curved wooden staircases, the high ceilings and golden frames. I’d be awed entering Seidon’s father’s double-oak-door office, with its floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and library ladder, its mahogany desk and rich red rugs. I’d even enjoy the gusts of ocean wind that currently tear across the island, making the house creak and groan like an ancient living creature.

  But I am most definitely not in my right mind.

  Logan’s words still ring in my ears, echoing inside my seized skull. Open relationship. We talked about how things might change going long distance, promised we’d make adjustments to stay together. I thought that meant figuring out the rhythms of how often to talk or visit each other. The idea of being with anyone else never entered the conversation.

  Open relationship. The words don’t make any sense to me. All they conjure are questions, each one more painful than the last. Answering any of them feels like pulling at a loose thread that might unravel the fabric of my life.

  So I don’t speak. I don’t let myself think. All I do is follow Seidon and dare not look in Logan’s direction.

  “This office is even more unbelievable than the rest of the house,” Logan says.

  On the surface this sounds like a compliment, but I know Logan—he believes inherited wealth is one of America’s greatest evils. Suddenly, intuiting this simple thing about Logan feels like a buoy in an ocean. It also hurts, because a new thought enters the equation: Do I really know Logan the way I think I do?

  An entire chunk of myself drifts off at the thought, iceberg I’ve become.

  “My dad is a psychologist,” Seidon explains. “He’s at his main office now, but he uses this space for recordkeeping and research.”

  “Is his research on the tarot, too?” Logan asks, eyeing the stack of histories and texts on the enormous desk.

  “Right now, yes,” Seidon answers. “He’s researching the historical link between the tarot and clinical psychology. It’s a bit of a challenge to my mom, if I’m honest. To get her to see the more practical side behind all of her mysticism. It can all be a bit… much, sometimes.

  “Anyway, Dad says there’s so much to unpack there. A lot of the symbolism used in the tarot appears in the archetypes devised in Freudian and Jungian psychology, to access the unconscious. There are also parallels to Rorschach’s inkblot tests, which analyze what we see instead of what’s really there. Dad’s toying with titles like ‘Taropy’—he actually makes a pretty compelling argument that tarot card readers are really the world’s oldest therapists.”

  Hearing this, I suddenly wish Amelia were here. Not just because she’d find the idea of “Taropy” fascinating—she has grand plans to study psychology at NYU, so she’d probably light up at linking the tarot to therapy. Really, I wish Amelia were here so she could tell me what to do about Logan.

  “Interesting,” Logan says. “I never thought of it that way. Though I did always respect the tarot’s link to so many world religions, the way its symbolism connects to their foundations.”

  “Well, symbols capture truths hard to relate in words, right?”

  Seidon’s eyes connect with Logan, and suddenly I feel as if I am watching their first date. The floodgates inside my head buckle, so I drain all my disdain into some deep, internal pool.

  “Should we find that file so we can rejoin the others?” I ask, my voice leaden.

  “Right, of course,” Seidon says. “Dad keeps Uncle Carson’s files in a safe, so my mom can’t go snooping. I have the code saved in a password keeper on my laptop. You two hang here while I go get it?”

  “Thanks, that’s perfect,” Logan says, smiling back at Seidon.

  Perfect.

  As Seidon holds Logan’s gaze, I see just how perfect they both are. Effortless and easy and sturdy, unburdened and beautiful. Captivating. Men—queer, sure, but men through and through. All of that used to be mine, with Logan by my side. But now I suddenly see how stupid I’ve been. How could I think I’d ever be enough for Logan? Me, twig-thin and brainy. Reserved me, who isn’t fun or funny or charming. I always hoped if I appeared intelligent enough, it’d make up for the rest of me. Being smart is what everyone likes about me. Reliable, useful Chase. No one wants to see how complicated I feel all the time, how undecided. I used to think no one would love me if they really knew. But Logan knows. He does.

  So maybe I was right? Maybe that’s why he wants someone else? Someone bright and simple and clean like Seidon.

  Luckily, Seidon leaves the office by the time the first tear splashes down my cheek. I try to hold them back, my throat searing, but I can’t stop myself. The calm surface, the one I meticulously maintain, ripples. Logan has never seen me cry.

  No one has.

  “Chase, what’s wrong?”

  I wipe my face and look at Logan, razor sharp.

  “I know. I’m sorry,” he says. “It just came out. I wasn’t going to tell you until the trip was over.”

  Tell me. As if his mind is already made up. How long ago did Logan decide… whatever this is?

  “Wow,” I say. “Thanks.”

  “I meant, bring it up, talk about it,” Logan tries. “I just wanted this trip to be perfect. I know how much it means to you.”

  Logan reaches out his hand to touch my arm, but I recoil. Suddenly he is a stranger to me, limbs of a foreign body.

  “What, before you break up with me?” The words hurt, boiling in my chest.

  “No, no,” Logan says. “Chase, I still love you.”

  “But?” I respond. “You still love me, but…”

  Logan sighs.

  “But we’re barely eighteen. I’ve never even kissed anyone else and we’re going to be so far apart. I just thought—”

  “You thought you want to hook up with other guys?” I interrupt, even though I nearly choke on the sentence. The entire earth seems to tilt around me, like some fundamental axis has shifted.

  “I think I need to go into college open to experiencing a lot of new things. And yes, maybe even that,” Logan says. “But I don’t want to lose you. Besides, who says we have to do things the old way? Straight people break up all the time for a reason, because of these unrealistic expectations of lifelong devotion, of never accounting for change. I’ve been doing some reading, and it’s pretty common for older gay men to have some degree of openness in their relationships.”

  It’s like Logan speaks another language. I recognize the words, but the meaning is lost on me.

  “I don’t want us to become bitter and resent each other,” he goes on. “I want us to grow in the same direction, to experience all this together. And if we’re really meant to be, don’t you want to know for sure there’s no greener grass and all that?”

  Logan takes my hand and I let him, limply.

  “Besides, if we really love each other, nothing—no one—can keep us apart.”

  I can’t speak.

  Our entire relationship suddenly casts itself in a different light. What was once steady and safe begins to warp; it becomes unsure and dangerous. How long have I not been enough? How did I miss the signs? When did Logan take this turn without me? Logan is a pillar. I’m gay and I’m with Logan. It’s a fact of my life. But now the entire foundation of that life feels like it’s crumbling.

  Logan looks distraught. I wish it helped me feel better.

  “You were just going to drop this on me before I left for school?”

  “I wasn’t even sure this is what I wanted,” Logan answers. “I thought maybe we could see when you came back for our first break. But then something settled along the way, while I was waiting. And then… then I just wanted us to be us, as long as possible.”

 
“That’s… that’s so…”

  Selfish, is what I want to say. All of this is just so damn selfish.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Logan pleads. “And I don’t want to lose you.”

  Tears now brim in Logan’s own eyes.

  “But I can’t ignore this other feeling, Chase. Doing that will only end us. And I can’t bear that thought.”

  My mind is a riptide. Everything feels upside down. Could I even do an open relationship? The thought of Logan being with someone else makes me feel physically ill. I’ve never felt like I needed anyone else that way, but could I find a way to do this for Logan? I don’t know… it feels impossible to decide how I feel about any of this when I’m so overwhelmed, when I feel like I have so little time. Did Logan really wait this long to save me suffering? Or was this all some way to try to force my hand?

  I don’t have the chance to answer, because Seidon walks back into the office. Seidon, with his irresistible dimples and flawless everything. Will Logan call him the second I get on a plane, their muscled bodies inevitably joining together right here, on the sprawling rugs…

  “I’ve got the—” Seidon starts, then stops. “—Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

  “No,” I answer immediately. “We’re ready.”

  The sooner we find what we came for, the sooner we can get off this island. This godforsaken place where everything has changed. Here lie Chase and Logan, ghosts haunting each other forevermore.

  I turn my head away to compose myself and my eye catches on a single tarot card laid on the desk, from the Rider-Waite deck: the Wheel of Fortune. I nearly laugh out loud. This card represents a reversal, reminding you to examine who is responsible when a turn for the worse arrives. Seeing its spokes and creatures, it feels like a cruel joke.

  Turning back to Seidon, I see that he looks unsure, but he keeps walking anyway. He leads the way to a palatial closet where the safe must be kept. Following him, I have an unfathomable urge to hit him.

  “Why are you helping us?” I suddenly ask, my tone pointed.

  Seidon pauses and turns to face us.

  “The great Lady Azure would probably say it’s because I’m the Prince of Cups, well-intentioned and supportive, but prone to the unexpected,” Seidon says. “Just like my dad is the King of Cups, guardian of secrets and mental strength.”

  “But what would you say?” I press.

  “I’d say I led you here because my mom asked me to, but I know her. She’s only appearing to help you so she can get what she really wants. Which is why I’m going to make sure you leave with everything you came for, despite her wishes.”

  “Why would you do that?” I ask.

  “Because ever since I left for college, I see her much more clearly. And I see how stuck she is.” Seidon sighs. “All the money she inherited, this house—it seems like a blessing, but I think it’s a curse. It’s a golden prison, one my mom will never leave. So she obsesses over Uncle Carson and his tarot because she feels like it gives her purpose, instead of doing anything actually good with all she’s been given.”

  “Jeez,” Logan says. “Your dad really must be a psychologist.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” Seidon laughs. “Mom has convinced herself she deserves all this wealth because of her tarot practice, so she started believing her own hype. Her intensity settled down a bit over the years, but this final deck is going to pull her right back in. I don’t want to live like that. And I want more for her. So maybe if she is forced to let go of this last deck, we can all move on. Really move on.”

  I look to Logan and he appears impressed. It guts me.

  “So you don’t believe in the tarot?” I ask instead.

  “Not the way my mom does,” Seidon answers. “She wants to believe the cards literally give her a psychic connection. My sister thinks the same thing, though she’s far more in tune with reality—and far less attached to material things. They both believe Uncle Carson’s ghost lives here. Me, I’m with my dad—I don’t really believe the psychic stuff and fortune-telling and visions are much more than uncharted psychological—”

  Seidon stops himself. Instead of continuing, he sets his eyes on mine.

  “Actually, I should really be asking: What do you believe, Chase?”

  “I think your entire family is toying with forces you couldn’t possibly understand.”

  Click here

  “I think you’re right. Whatever mess is collecting here, it’s all of our own making.”

  Click here

  “You all seem to revel in claiming things you haven’t really earned,” I continue, viscerally.

  Seidon stares back at me, no doubt hearing the anger in my voice.

  “If you really believe that, then it’s all the more reason for you to take your cards away.” Seidon sighs. “Because I’m sick of this Perillian stuff haunting us.”

  Staring at Seidon, I realize I’m not the only one who believes there’s something bigger happening here. I think we’d all be foolish not to have some reverence for the forces at work on this frigid island. I also realize I’d better shut my mouth if all that’s going to spew out right now is venom.

  “Why do you still live here, then, if you disagree with it all so much?” Logan asks, shooting me a look: What was that?

  “Family is family,” Seidon answers. “But really, I’m just home for the summer before heading back to UCSB.”

  “Oh, I’m headed to UCLA next—” Logan begins, but then must feel the steam rising off my skin.

  Anger might be all I’m capable of projecting, but really, I feel like I might vomit.

  “Let’s just see what’s in the records,” Logan finishes instead, unable to look at me.

  Which is fine, because I already feel unseen as all hell.

  Click here

  Seidon stares back at me. It’s an odd stare, like he’s somehow trying to figure me out.

  “Then we agree,” he finally says, perhaps ignoring—or perhaps embracing—the subtext of my answer. “And getting this deck away from my family is the best way to prove that.”

  “In that case, all three of us agree,” Logan says, stepping beside me.

  Logan believes in a higher power, but I know he doesn’t believe in “powers.” He’d just call it psychic energy tapping into universal flow. I’m sure he thinks all of this is spiritual, not supernatural. Human, not superhuman.

  I still might not be sure exactly what I believe, but in this case, I can definitely agree. This all feels particularly, painfully human.

  Seidon looks back at us, at Logan and me standing together, and suddenly it’s as if a charge opens up in the room. There’s silence for a few more beats.

  “You know, I didn’t only bring you boys up here because my mom asked,” Seidon begins. “I kind of knew the house would be empty…”

  Seidon’s eyes slide from mine to Logan’s and a stone forms in my stomach.

  Oh. No. There’s no way I could… I mean, I’m not ready to… Oh god, what if Logan wants to…

  “That’s very flattering,” Logan answers. “But we’re not there yet.”

  Logan puts a hand on my shoulder and Seidon stares at it, intensely.

  “Shame,” Seidon says, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, you know where to find me if you ever change your mind.”

  If Seidon feels embarrassed or rejected, he doesn’t show it. Though he maybe seems to feel somewhat… left out? He turns to the safe and I flush with relief, but not much.

  Because I’m the one who really feels left out. At best, I’m the wet blanket of his scenario. At worst, I’m the consolation prize.

  Click here

  Seidon opens the safe and rifles through the files piled inside. I’m so lost in my thoughts, I have no idea how long he does this. It could be seconds or it could be minutes, but next thing I know, Seidon turns and stands again.

  “Here it is,” he says, opening the file. “There actually isn’t much in here, mostly photos of Uncle Carson wo
rking on the deck. But this was at the top.”

  Seidon then hands me a UPS tracking receipt from a decade ago.

  “He must have wanted whoever showed up with the deck to know exactly where he mailed it. Does the name there mean anything to you?” Seidon asks.

  Indeed it does.

  And seeing it, I know only one thing: we need to get back to Amelia and Cleo. Now.

  Wonders refuse to cease.

  We asked Seidon to take us to Coupled Cottage to meet the others, but after checking his phone, he said he was getting texts from his sister—and there was a change of plans. So we follow Seidon into the basement of Baxter Manor. Once down here, he pulls on a seemingly ornamental trident set into the wall, which reveals a secret door leading into an underground tunnel. Seidon explains that this tunnel reaches across the island to both docks, serving as an old panic-room escape route. The escape tunnel is very cool, just like everything else on the island, but I’ve endured one too many surprises to enjoy it much.

  Halfway through the tunnel, we finally meet Amelia, Cleo, and Anwar. Spotting Amelia, I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved to see anyone in my entire life.

  “Oh my goddess,” she says as she grabs and hugs me. “You’re never going to believe what just happened.”

  I hug Amelia and feel like melting. Her presence is like a lighthouse shining.

  “We only need to take one boat back,” Seidon says. “But we should keep moving, just in case…”

  Seidon doesn’t finish, so I turn to Amelia. From the look on her face, I can tell what must have happened with recovering the Princess of Cups. What I can’t tell, however, is what happened with Lady Azure to make us need to “keep moving.” Obviously, we’ll need to discuss all this later, because now is not the time. My pulse picks up in my harried veins. It feels like some big bad looms behind us in this darkened tunnel. Anything feels like it could come for us, after these last two delirious days.