“Never say good-bye,” he had said to me once.
And so we never did, until that last morning on the dock when he had said good-bye, breaking the first of the many promises that we had made to each other.
I straightened my black shift dress, brushed a hand through my short, wind-blown hair, and walked slowly to the church, focusing on the steady rhythm of my heels clicking on the pavement with each step.
The service was beautiful. I sat between my mother and Logan. The crowd was small, thirty to forty people, close friends and family, just the way Drew would have wanted it. The priest read from a short script, a depiction of Drew’s life and personality, which he nailed to a tee. I silently wondered if Drew had written it himself. His mother’s sister read a poem that brought tears to my eyes, but it was the music that really gutted me.
One of Andrew’s closest friends from boarding school, Lucas, played a few songs on his acoustical guitar. His voice flowed through me as he sang a simple and beautiful arrangement of “Fix You” by Coldplay, which was so Andrew. But the words stabbed me right in the heart, as if Drew was speaking to me in some way. When Lucas began playing a slow, melodic version of “Free Fallin’” by Tom Petty, I could barely suppress the sobs that raked through me.
I could see Logan, from the corner of my eye, lean forward and bury his face in his hands. This was one of Drew’s favorite songs, but now, as I listened to the words, I felt a connection to their meaning, as if Drew was telling me that he was sorry and that he had somehow known the truth. It was almost too much. This was most likely all in my head, but he had taken the time to bury a letter for me in our time capsule and painted my cabin when he had barely had the strength to stand. Anything was possible. He knew I would be here, somehow, even though it had been years since we had seen one another.
My eyes wandered to the first pew where Drew’s father and William were seated. A beautiful woman with long dark curly hair was seated next to William with her hand in his. Beside her was a boy, a young teen, who shared the same dark curly hair. And beside the boy was a young girl, half his age with light brown hair that fell down her back in waves. My gut tightened as I considered the possibility that this was William’s family. Of course even he would have children. The unfairness of it all filled me with the bitterness that I was familiar with, but then I remembered the miracle growing inside me as I wrapped my arms across my belly, protecting him or her from everything that I felt in that moment.
After the benediction Drew’s casket was carried outside to the cemetery that stretched out to the edge of the hill. A small white tent was set up over the burial site. I walked out, flanked by my mother and Logan, our arms intertwined.
From where I stood, I could see the view of the bay again, and I couldn’t help but think that Drew had picked the perfect spot. He would be laid to rest, with his favorite view stretched out before him. But, most important, those that came here to grieve him would be reminded of the beauty of the lake. I was sure that Drew knew that such a view might bring them comfort.
The burial service had ended, and I honestly couldn’t recall a single second of it as I was lost in my own thoughts, a cold numbness growing inside me. Only a few of us remained afterward. Most everyone had left to attend the reception at Monroe Manor. I couldn’t seem to leave, as if something was drawing me to this spot. I stood a few feet from the grave, morbidly staring at the crew of workers as they filled the hole where Drew’s body lay, motionless, in a wooden box. It all seemed so unfair at the moment.
“Gemma, are you ready?” I heard Logan ask from behind me.
My mother had gone ahead to the reception when Logan offered to drive me himself.
The rain had stopped sometime during the service, and now the sun was starting to peek out from behind a mass of dark clouds. I couldn’t answer or move to acknowledge him in anyway, as if my body was bolted in place.
“Come on, Gemma,” Logan said, as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tried to steer me toward the car. I reluctantly let him lead me away from Drew, my feet growing heavier with each step. I leaned my head against Logan’s shoulder, welcoming the comfort. As we neared the driveway of the chapel where the cars were parked, Logan’s voice vibrated in my ear where it rested on his chest.
“Hey, Will. I thought you had already gone back to the cabin.”
I jerked my head up at the sound of William’s name and met his eyes in the same instant.
“I need to talk to Gemma,” he said nervously.
“Sure, I’ll give you both a minute,” Logan said as he began to step away from me.
“This is neither the time nor the place, William,” I said through a shaky voice, reaching my arm out to grip Logan around the waist, holding him in place. I didn’t want to be alone with William. I couldn’t handle the fear and anxiety that had suddenly crept up on me just from the sound of his voice.
“We need to talk about what happened that night. Please just let me explain, to try to make it right.”
Tears spilled down my face as the nausea settled in at his words. “Make it right? How can you make it right? You destroyed me that night. I trusted you. You were like a brother to me. How could you?” I choked out.
Before William could respond, Logan stepped out of my reach, toward William. “What the fuck? You son-of-a-bitch!” Logan yelled seconds before he wound his arm back and connected his fist with the side of Will’s jaw. The sound echoed in the vast space around us. Seconds later he did it again, but this time his fist landed in William’s gut, causing him to grunt loudly as he fell to his knees. He was doubled over with his arm across his abdomen as he held up his other hand to stop Logan from another advance.
It all happened in slow motion. Logan, breathing heavily, was in a rage and began to approach William again with the intent of kicking him while he was down.
“Stop, Logan,” I screamed as I stepped in between them. “Please don’t do this,” I pleaded, holding my hand against Logan’s chest. This was not the place. We were here for Drew. They shouldn’t be fighting like this.
Logan stopped in his tracks and leaned over, bracing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.
William sat on his knees in the dirt, holding his gut. I saw tears running down his cheeks, the left side of his face bright red—almost purple—as he spit a mouthful of blood in the dirt beside him.
We were all panting, the intensity of everyone’s emotions filling the space around us, the air almost too thick with tension to breathe.
Logan’s strained voice broke through the sudden silence. “This is about that night. In the woods. Isn’t it?” he asked, staring directly in my eyes from where he was still hunched over.
I didn’t answer his question.
“There’s more to it than what you told me, isn’t there? It was him. And this asshole actually . . .” His voice trailed off, unable to finish his sentence as he put the pieces together from that night so long ago.
I could only nod, unable to voice the confirmation.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” he said again as he shook his head from side to side. “I could fucking kill you right now,” he growled, directly at William.
“I know. I deserve that. Believe me, I do,” Will said, surprising me with his words, his admission, the self-hatred that I could sense in his tone.
From where he sat, on his knees, in the dirt, he turned to me then. “Gemma. There’s no excuse for what I did. I was fucked up. I was so high and wasted that night, I barely remembered what happened the next morning. But I could hear your pleas and cries in my head the next day. I knew that I had done something awful, that I had hurt you.”
“How could you tell Drew that I wanted you, bragging to him about sleeping with me after what you had done?” I asked, disgusted with him.
“I was scared. I thought for sure that you would tell Drew. I knew that if I hurt him enough, he would hate you and leave. And I was right.”
“You make me sick,” I said, angry tears
making their way down my face. I wiped them away roughly, mad that I was allowing myself to cry in front of him.
“I know. I’m sorry. I couldn’t live with what I’d done. I nearly overdosed several times, trying to make the guilt and pain go away. When I finally made it through rehab, I wanted to find you, to turn myself in, to make it right.”
Part of me, deep down inside, beneath all the anger and hatred, wanted to pity him. I wanted to feel for him and everything that he had gone through, but my empathy was overpowered with the pain of all that he had taken from me.
“Why didn’t you then, William?” I yelled at him through the torment and tears, as I lunged at him with my hands fisted at my sides. “Why? Why? Do you know what you did to me? You broke me! You broke me!” I screamed at him, as my body shook with rage and heartbreak. Logan wrapped his arms around me then, pulling me into his chest protectively.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore. Just breathe.”
I tried to focus on Logan’s calming voice, tried to slow my breath as I sobbed into his chest.
William continued to speak. “I would have turned myself in, but Janelle was pregnant with my baby. She needed me then, and my son needed me. It wasn’t about me anymore, or you, Gemma. For once people were depending on me, and I had to do the right thing, for them.”
His words resonated somewhere deep inside me. How could I fault him for choosing to be a father, for turning his life around?
“Don’t think that I moved on and forgot about what I had done. I have agonized over it all these years. When my daughter was born . . .” He broke down in sobs, his head shaking side to side as he gripped his arm over his stomach in pain.
“When my daughter was born, I kept thinking of you and knew that, if anyone ever hurt her the way that I had hurt you, I would kill them. I felt like a monster, and I struggled with the urge to use again. I’m so sorry. I can never go back and undo it, but, God, . . . I wish I could. I. Am. So. Sorry.” William completely broke down before me.
I wasn’t sure what to feel. How much longer do I have to live with what happened? Haven’t we all paid enough?
Drew and I, and even William, had all suffered so much from that one night so long ago. But William’s torment began long before that. His struggle, his fight. I was overcome with emotion. I knew what he needed from me, but I wasn’t sure that I could give it to him. I wasn’t sure that I could forgive him for all the years of torment, all the pain that he had caused. The way that he had purposely destroyed my friendship with Drew. The ripple effect from his gruesome attack was far too devastating to absolve him.
I pulled out of Logan’s arms and stood in front of William, looking down at him where he knelt at my feet—bloody, beaten, and broken.
“I’m sorry too,” I whispered and walked toward Logan’s truck. And I was sorry. I was sorry that William was so fucked up; I was sorry for what he had suffered, for what had changed him back then, for what had unleashed the monster that he must see when he looked in the mirror. I was sorry for the way he suffered now, but mostly I was sorry for the time that I could have had with Drew. Now it was too late, and William’s apology could never bring Drew back. It could never return to me the time that I had lost.
I heard Logan say to William in a strained voice, “This isn’t over,” as I opened the heavy door to his truck and hoisted myself up into the seat, closing the door with a weighted breath. Tears made their way down my cheeks as sobs shook my body. Logan opened the driver’s side door and climbed in next to me, starting the loud engine before slowly driving away from the church, away from what was left of Drew, away from William kneeling in the dirt begging for forgiveness that I couldn’t give.
Thirty-Four
Not able to face Drew’s family, primarily William, especially after his confrontation, we had gone to Logan’s house. The drive was met with silence as I watched Logan’s anger slowly recede, my own despair hovering on the brink, as I tried to put it all behind me the farther we got from the church. I had texted my mother to let her know where I was. She didn’t deserve to worry about me more than she already had, and I didn’t want her to wait up for me. It had been a long day for both of us. We had planned to stay at our cabin for the night, and I knew that she would be okay alone, with all our neighbors close by.
Logan and I sat on his couch in his small house that rested on the property behind Sal’s Garage, just talking. We were both still shaken up by the altercation with William.
“Gemma, you should’ve told me,” Logan said, rubbing his hand over his face.
I took a sip of my water, staring straight ahead, lost in thought. I was taken back to that night when Logan had found me in the woods, crying. I had told him as little as possible, downplaying the incident by vaguely telling him that I had let things go a little too far with someone, that I felt taken advantage of, and that I was upset, unwilling to give Logan a name, despite his protests, or to recount the experience by admitting that I had been raped.
I could barely wrap my own head around what had happened, much less talk to Logan about it. I made him promise that he would never tell anyone, mainly Drew, and that we would never speak of it again. He had carried me to his truck and driven me back to my cabin, after asking me nearly ten times if I was okay. And that had been the last time that I had seen him until the other night. I shook the memory from my mind as my thoughts drifted back to Drew.
“What was he like in the end, Logan? What did you guys talk about?” I asked, still staring into space, clutching my water glass tightly in my hand.
“Well, he seemed fine at first. A little angry and on edge. We went out drinking a lot. He told me that he was taking a break from life for a while, and I believed him, knowing what an asshole his father was to work for. His behavior made sense. I didn’t know that he was sick. He never told me.”
Drew’s words “taking a break from life” echoed inside my heart. His words from my dream, exactly the same.
“And then strange things started to happen. Like he would get sudden headaches that nearly brought him to his knees, and, a few times, I swear he couldn’t see—like he was suddenly blinded by the pain. He would wave it off, always making an excuse when I would start to get worried. And then one day I found him unconscious in his bedroom. We had planned to go fishing, and I had walked in just like I always do, but he wasn’t answering when I called out to him. I had to call an ambulance. I was scared shitless. When I got to the hospital, they told me about his condition. At first I was pissed that he didn’t tell me. But I get it. He didn’t want to be treated differently.
“Anyway, he spent a few days in the hospital, and then he demanded to go back to the Manor. That’s when he painted your cabin. He wouldn’t let me help him, even though I knew it was taking every ounce of strength he had to finish it.” Logan shook his head and took a swig of his beer. “So damn stubborn.
“And then I found him again. He was conscious but barely, and he couldn’t get out of bed. I drove him to the damn hospital myself, called his dad and Will. They arrived just before he lost consciousness for the last time. His dad couldn’t take it, left shortly after. Will stayed by his side for weeks. I was there as often as I could be. The doctors said that his brain was pretty much gone, but his body was still fighting.”
He wiped away a tear from his eye with his palm and downed the rest of his beer.
“The thing is, I kept thinking he was going to wake up, that he was going to beat it. Sometimes when I was sitting alone at his side in the quiet, I would hear him make noises—the doctor said this was normal—but I swear a few times I heard him mumble your name. Of course they told me that I was crazy, that he couldn’t possibly have any cognitive thoughts. But I know what I heard. So I thought for sure they were wrong, that he was going to be okay.” He leaned forward and set his empty bottle on the table.
A chill swept over me then, and I set my glass on the table next to Logan’s empty beer bottles and crossed my arms over
my chest tightly, fighting against it. I reached up and wiped a tear from my eye when Logan suddenly gripped my wrist in his hand, startling me.
He pulled my hand closer to his face, twisting my arm gently until the small tattoo on the inside of my wrist was exposed. I felt his thumb trace the figure eight slowly as my breath came in steady, heavy pulls.
“What is this?” he asked.
Although the three of us had been close, some things were kept sacred between just Drew and me, like our tattoo designs and our promises. When I remained quiet with my eyes focused on the black outline etched in my skin, Logan dropped my hand. I slowly traced the tattoo with my own thumb.
“Drew had the same thing, but different and bigger, right here,” he said as he pointed at an area of skin on his forearm. “Not a coincidence, is it?” he asked, knowing that he had missed out on whatever this meant to Drew, to me.
I shook my head to confirm his suspicions. “You guys were so close. I could never penetrate that bond between the two of you.”
He shook his head, remembering. “And when we got older, this thick tension built between Drew and me whenever you were around. Like he wanted to keep you all to himself. He loved you, you know? That last summer, it was so obvious. At least to everyone but you.”
He chuckled to himself as my mind drifted back to Drew’s words the last time I saw him, all those years ago. I’m in love with you. I’m so in love with you . . .
“Anyway I knew his tattoo must have something to do with you, especially when he told me what it meant. He said it was to remind him that—”
“Nothing lasts forever,” I whispered the words at the same time as Logan as we both looked at each other, my eyes wide with shock. My love for Drew slammed into me all at once, old feelings mixed in with the new emotions that had flourished inside me and filled me to the point that I thought I might burst.
That hope brought forth once again the idea that what Drew and I had shared was real, that it wasn’t just in my head. Too many coincidences, far too tangible to be anything but real. I shivered against that familiar chill that invaded me, as I weighed the consequences of telling Logan everything in that moment. Unable to stay quiet with all the possibilities whirling around in my head, I finally spoke. “Logan, you know about my accident right?”
Gravity: A Novel Page 19
