Resurrection

by Michael Clements

  Phoebe shrugged. “The game? Sure. But there’s other games throughout the year, aren’t there?” Ethan didn’t quite understand what she was getting at, and his face showed it. “My point,” Phoebe continued, “is that a group of people can go to a gathering, but they aren’t going for the same reasons. The same behavior doesn’t mean the same intention.”

  Ethan understood. “Even people who … act like other people …” He tried to phrase his words correctly. “They’re still different. Right?”

  Phoebe nodded. “And sometimes, people don’t follow the crowd at all. There’s no shame in that, Ethan. If you don’t want to go, then you don’t want to go. No need to get self-conscious about it.”

  “I’m missing out on a lot of fun, though… Aren’t I?”

  “You probably are.” Phoebe paused, staring at him for a moment. “I’ve seen you have fun. You enjoy a good time just as much as the next person, but, I have noticed … it’s rare. You don’t get out and enjoy yourself much.”

  “Is this the part where you tell me there’s something wrong with me?”

  Phoebe leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I’d prefer not to phrase it quite like that, but yes. Not everyone likes the same things, but we all need to enjoy something. You don’t let yourself have fun. I feel … I feel you don’t … trust fun. You treat it like it’s something to be afraid of.”

  “It’s hard to have fun when your mother’s dead.”

  Phoebe, expressing concern, said, “Everybody dies, Ethan… And we don’t get to choose when death takes our loved ones. I’m truly thankful neither you nor Lily blame your mother’s death on me. Well, not anymore. You understand it was Bryan’s doing, and only he carries the blame. Still, I know, beyond a doubt, that you blame yourself. You shouldn’t. I’ve tried to tell you a hundred times: it’s not your fault she’s gone.”

  “I could have saved her if I was older and bigger. I was too weak.”

  Phoebe grimaced. “Too weak?” she asked. “You were too good a person, Ethan. You’re no killer.” She paused, nervously rubbing her fingers. “Part of the reason I adopted you was in the hope I could keep you – you and Lily both – from turning into monsters. Violence is a disease. Rage is a disease. They’re … contagious diseases. And you know my hands are not clean. I think it takes a monster to know how to control a monster.”

  “Control a monster? I thought you said I’m not a monster.”

  “Everyone has a monster inside them. Every day of our lives, we make the choice of unleashing it, or keeping it in.” Ethan turned his head, thinking deeply. He searched through his mind, indeed finding dark areas within it. She’s right, he thought. Part of me isn’t good… I ignore it all the time. But it’s hard sometimes. Finally, Phoebe said, “I should have made you go to homecoming. You need to allow yourself to be happy. You need to know how that feels. Only that can keep bad thoughts at bay.”

  The front door flung open, and heavy footsteps hurried up the stairs. Someone knocked on the bedroom door, then let themselves in. It was Michael. “Boss… Ethan…” he began. “Kayla’s missing.”

  Panic consumed Ethan. He fled the house. Sure enough, police cars were gathered around Kayla’s house. He wanted to search the house, believing in part that she might be in it, but he realized that would be ridiculous.

  Missing? He couldn’t grasp it. Did she run away, or did someone take her? Who would take her?

  He didn’t go to Kayla’s house, though. Nothing could be done.

  –––––––

  Ethan’s mind raced for a solid two hours straight, making it impossible to sleep. With so many disorganized thoughts, he may as well have had none at all. Don’t get involved. The police can handle this… Phoebe can handle this… His own advice betrayed him; it felt wrong and misguided. It’s what others would tell him, but somehow, he knew, they would be wrong. He had to become involved. Kayla needed him. She needed family and blood. Wherever she was, it was her conscious decision to be there. She’s too old to be kidnapped.

  No car, no company, and no permission… When the clock struck two in the dead of night, Ethan got out of bed, dressed, then carefully, noiselessly opened the window on the back wall of his bedroom. The fall couldn’t kill him, he knew. A few deep breaths later, he dropped down, landing on his feet, but then flat on his back. It hurt, but didn’t damage him. He required a minute to stand and walk fluidly.

  First destination was, of course, Kayla’s house. Guessing her parents to either be asleep or out searching, he didn’t expect to run into them. To play it safe though, he walked to the end of the road, to the cul-de-sac. No police cars in sight. Must have already been here, he thought.

  As per usual during the era of he and Kayla sneaking out at night, Ethan brought their trash bin directly below Kayla’s bedroom window, grabbed the ledge, and pulled himself up. It was much more difficult without help, but he managed to climb inside without stirring too much noise. Being on the second floor, he feared his walking would creak, so he stepped with the largest possible strides toward the light, and switched it on.

  Boy band posters, her personal computer, a GameBoy, some VHS tapes and one DVD, and even several pairs of shoes… All the signs that Kayla wasn’t planning to be gone for long. Maybe she wants people to think that, he was convinced. He debated the possibility in his mind. Ultimately, he decided he couldn’t chance it. But he didn’t know where to start looking. He checked Kayla’s drawing supplies, under the bed, and then the bookshelf.

  Nothing.

  He sat on the bed, pondering; half feeling insulted she left without saying any kind of goodbye, half feeling perhaps she did, in some strange way, and he perhaps hadn’t checked the right place yet. If she ran away, she’d know I’d stop her. Of course I would. If she wanted to say goodbye in a way I couldn’t stop her… He remembered her love for writing. She must have written a letter.

  An idea struck him: Her favorite shirt.

  He walked to the closet, careless for the noise his steps made now. Kayla’s Andromeda Galaxy shirt was buried behind all the other shirts, at the far right end of the rack. And sure enough, the moment his hand touched it, he felt paper.

  Taped inside was a sheet of paper, folded once. He opened it, finding his name at the top. It made him smile. Kayla thought of him enough to leave a note after all. A very long note, probably thousands of words long. Like the storyteller she was, written in the unique Kayla-esque manner that she always spoke, the note was a short story about her thoughts about life ever since she moved from Alaska to Oregon. It brought back many memories. But what Ethan ultimately learned from the letter was something he always suspected: Kayla was never happy with her life, and that only worsened with time, amplified by the death of her mother.

  “I know you won’t approve of the life I’m going to choose, and that’s why I didn’t tell you before I left.”

  Undoubtedly the most disturbing words to ever come from Kayla.

  The letter said nothing about what she was going to do. But in Ethan’s mind, it wasn’t as if Kayla had a great many options to choose from.

  Amber…

  –––––––

  Three in the morning by the time he reached her house. The most difficult part was getting off the property. He couldn’t pass through the gate, otherwise the guards would inform Phoebe of his nocturnal activity. He couldn’t escape through the back yard, because it was surrounded by a fence, which itself was surrounded by Leyland cypress trees, which was then followed by thick thorn bushes. His only option was sneaking through someone else’s back yard, praying he wouldn’t be detected. He went through Kayla’s back yard, which was protected, but not as heavily. Finding the sidewalk was a relief.

  A twenty-minute walk later, Ethan knocked twice. Half the house’s lights were on, and several people were walking about as if it were a Saturday afternoon. A minute later, a man his height, but with a more aged face answered the door. “Is Amber home?” he asked politely.

/>   “Who are you?”

  “Ethan. I’m friends with Amber.” He tried not to be intimidated, or at least show it.

  “The hell you doing up so late? Amber’s not home.” The man started to shut the door.

  “I need to talk to her. It’s urgent!”

  “Really? I doubt that. Now get the hell off my property.”

  The door was then slammed in Ethan’s face. He wasn’t offended; not in the slightest. More annoyed than anything. Calmly, Ethan walked home. This time, he passed through the gate, and the guards told him Phoebe would know about it in the morning. Worth the trouble, in his mind. He stopped at Michael’s house.

  “You want me to what?” Michael’s voice had risen to a hilariously high pitch. He then lit a cigarette and placed the lighter on the barbeque.

  “I’m doing this with or without you. Without you would just make more trouble for all of us,” said Ethan, confident in his plan.

  “Look Ethan, I love you like you’re my own, but I can’t give you special privileges just because you’re Phoebe’s kid.”

  Ethan cocked his head. “Actually, that’s one of the perks of being Phoebe’s kid…” The two stared at each other a moment. Michael’s right-hand man was seated on a chair a few feet away on the grass. He seemed equally as flabbergasted as Michael. Ethan added, “Come on. It’s not like I abuse my … you know…”

  “Position?”

  “Yeah, position. It’s not like I abuse my position all the time. You know what, actually, when was the last time I did? Never.”

  “Ethan, Ethan,” said Michael. “You need to go home, get some sleep, and get up for school in the morning. Kayla’s family. We know that. Your mom has a lot of connections. She runs a large network. The Ladies altogether have an even bigger network. If your cousin shows one hair on her head anywhere in the Portland area, we’ll know about it. Leave it to us, okay? Don’t get involved.”

  Beginning to be irritated, Ethan replied, “Michael… Wherever she is, she doesn’t want to be found. It’s not just about finding her, it’s about persuading her to come home. She left me a note. And in that note she, basically, said she’s giving up on life. I don’t know if she plans on killing herself, or if she already did, or… I don’t know.” He paused. Michael seemed to be thinking about it. “Please.”

  Forty-five minutes after having the door slammed in his face, Ethan had returned to Amber’s house with Michael and three of his men. He knocked twice again, and again the door was answered by that man. “Kid,” he said. “If you’re on my property in the next thirty seconds, I’m–”

  Ethan had stepped aside, and a henchman kicked in the door, breaking the man’s nose on impact. The five of them rushed inside, subduing the man, and the woman who had been asleep watching TV. A boy around Ethan’s age emerged from his bedroom, alarmed at the commotion, and Ethan threw him to the floor immediately. Their hostages struggled a moment until Amber walked out of her bedroom, wearing only a top that hardly covered her belly and underwear.

  “What’s going on?” she nearly screamed. “Eh… Ethan? Oh my god, what are you doing here?”

  Ethan looked down at the kid he had pinned. “Stay there.” He stood up. “Kayla… Where is she?” He had never spoken to anyone so bluntly, but it was necessary.

  “How am I supposed to know?”

  Michael, the only one without a hostage, said, “What, do you not know? Ethan, you said you were sure she knew.”

  “I am sure. Amber, where is Kayla? Please, I don’t want this to get ugly. Is that your dad with the broken nose there?”

  Amber shook her head. “Stepdad.”

  “Okay, and is this your brother on the floor here?” She nodded. “Well, if you don’t… Michael…”

  Michael stepped forward. “Young lady, if you know where Kayla is, but you refuse to tell us, you’re really gonna wish you hadn’t.” The one who had Amber’s father pinned took a hand and forced back the index finger.

  “No, no! Don’t hurt him!” screamed Amber. “Okay, okay, she lives here. But… I mean, she’s not here right now. She works until six.”

  ‘Works?’

  ‘Until six?’

  He tried to deny it. He tried to convince himself it wasn’t so, with all his might, but there was no doubt any longer. There was a reason Kayla mentioned Amber’s desire to become a prostitute. It took all his willpower not to force more information out of her with his fists. “Where … is she working?”

  Amber seemed to have only answered because of sheer terror. “82nd,” she said.

  Michael had his men release the others. “She’s alive and well?” he asked.

  “…Yes.”

  “Alright. We’re leaving, Ethan.”

  –––––––

  “They were innocent, Ethan,” said Phoebe, seated upright in her chair, staring with utter seriousness. It was the following morning, and Phoebe had summoned Ethan, Lilith, and Michael to her office as soon as she was informed of what occurred the previous night.

  “They were hiding my cousin,” retorted Ethan. “Not to mention, Amber gave Kayla the idea in the first…”

  “Respect your mother!” shouted Michael, who sat beside Ethan.

  But Phoebe looked Michael with contempt. “Your actions were equally repugnant. It’s staggering that I have to address you for the same reason.

  Michael calmly asked, “May I speak, ma’am?” Phoebe nodded. “I apologize. In my defense, though, you’ve charged me with the protection of the family. Kayla is family.”

  “Subtlety is key, Michael. We can’t tear up the neighborhood every time a distant relative of ours might be in danger. Did you at least locate her after all this trouble?” She was looking to Ethan with that question.

  “Um… Kind of,” the boy replied.

  “Kind of?”

  “Well, we know she’s crashing with Amber, but that’s it. She still won’t come home… She’s a prostitute now.”

  Suddenly, Phoebe was calm. Astoundingly calm. “How do you feel about that?” she asked him.

  “I… I’m… Jeez. I guess I’m scared. Everybody knows what can happen to prostitutes. It’s also just… It’s a bad lifestyle. It’s disgusting.”

  Phoebe looked him dead in the eyes. “You know I don’t do that kind of business?” Ethan nodded. “Which means if she has a pimp, and she most likely does, then her pimp is probably one of Carrie’s people, and therefore I don’t have the authority to pull her out of that.”

  Everyone stared at Ethan. “What?”

  “Will you accept this? You can’t change it.” asked Phoebe.

  He shrugged. “I mean, she’s still my cousin and all. You can talk to Carrie about it, right?”

  “Tension levels between the clans fluctuates, and right now, tensions have been high. Even if they weren’t, it’s not my place to interfere in Carrie’s business affairs.”

  Ethan scowled. “But it’s my cousin… That’s not just ‘business’ as usual.”

  “It is if Kayla doesn’t want to come home or leave the job…” Ethan was about to retort, but Phoebe said, “I’ll forgive this once, Ethan, and only because you’re looking out for someone. Family or not, you are to obey me, understand?”

  He nodded.

  “Also, you’re not to get involved in Kayla’s life more than she permits you. If she tells you to stay away, you stay away. I know you care, but it’s her life.”

  “I can talk to her, though? You’re not forbidding me from talking to her…?”

  “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am…”

  Finally, Phoebe answered, “Yes, you may. No intruding, though. I can’t stress that enough.”

  Phoebe then told him, and Lilith, to leave while she had a word with Michael. When they stepped out, Lilith looked at Ethan and smiled, almost as if about to laugh. “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing. You’re just funny. So, what are you going to do?”

  Ethan shook his head. “I don’t know. I
at least want to talk to Kayla. Maybe she’ll think different.”

  “Differently. Well, good luck to you. We still have homework to do this weekend, remember.”

  “I know. Don’t do any of the calculus, though, because I need some help understanding it. Are you going to be here all night?”

  “…Yes. Why?”

  “Just wondering. I might need you later. Also, I need to borrow your Maxima.”

  –––––––

  No place in Portland had both the fame and notoriety of 82nd St., and as Ethan pulled in to the Plaid Pantry, he recalled every single story he had heard of it. Shifting in to park, and then shutting down the engine, Ethan checked his surroundings. It didn’t seem all that bad at first glance. Of course, a police car passed from one direction or another approximately every other minute. He wasn’t sure if that ought to make him feel better or worse.

  Fifty-five minutes he waited, without dozing, without listening to music, and without getting out. Part of him had hoped someone would notice his overextended stay and called the cops to make him leave; that way, he could tell himself that he left, but didn’t give up. He had promised himself to leave after an hour, but after fifty-five minutes he finally saw Kayla walk in to the outlet with two female colleagues. They were inside for a short while longer, which technically surpassed his hour-long waiting time limit, but he remained. Once Kayla and friends exited, he took his chance.

  “Kayla!” he called, shutting the car door.

  At first Kayla didn’t seem to recognize him. Her face started at confusion, then shifted into what appeared like anger. “What are you doing here?” she asked. Apparently a simple hello was unrealistic to expect.

  “Everybody’s been looking for you.”

  “How’d you find me?”

  “Amber…” he answered honestly.

  “Well, I’m working, so…”

  “No, you’re coming home right now.”

  Her companions rushed to her defense. Both started shoving him and shouting things like: “Who the hell do you think you are?” and, “You better leave before I bust a cap!”