I figured this was about me, that somehow Burn got it in his paranoid mind that I was secretly seeing Christina, which must have set him off. Of course, my guess was that if that set him off, then the actual truth, as in me hooking up with his sister, was liable to totally melt him down.
“I don’t want you driving if you’ve been drinking,” she told him. “Just tell me where you are.” More silence. “You’re not in trouble yet. I’m trying to avoid that, don’t you see?” More silence. “Can you put her on?”
There was a long pause. Then, “Hi, Christina.”
I had forgotten that they knew each other from the year before, when the more normal Burn was spending time with Christina. “I know he seems out of control,” Roxanne told her, “but he’s been through a lot and he really has feelings for you.”
While this was going on, my cell lit up, about to ring. My mom. Shit, I had forgotten to call her, and she was probably sitting in Aunt Peesmell’s driveway waiting to pick me up. I answer as quietly as possible, telling her that I’m sorry for not calling, that I just got picked up and I’m out with friends, which in a way was true, that I probably won’t be home for dinner, which I guessed, being as we were in Massachusetts, was a safe bet, and no I didn’t think Roxanne was home because she had errands, and yes, I’ll text Roxanne that you will have her money for her on Thursday.
And the second I get off my phone, Roxanne tosses hers to me. “Find a Barnes and Noble in the Berkshires.” Kenny is already on it, because he was listening as Roxanne interrogated Christina while I was busy keeping my mom at bay.
“There’s only one. Pittsfield,” he yelled from the back. “Twenty-two minutes.”
It was Newman who asked the question that I never thought to ask. In all the time that I spent with Roxanne in her room, we almost never talked about Burn or his issues. It was like he didn’t exist for either of us. But now, as we were heading up to the middle of nowhere to try to find him, not sure of what mental state he was in, Newman thought it was important to know.
“What exactly is wrong with your brother?”
As she drove, she swore us to secrecy (like that mattered) and explained about Burn’s medical condition, as she called it. She said that he was diagnosed by different doctors with every type of emotional disorder in the book, from bipolar disorder, which we all knew about, as in Burn being Up or Burn being Down, to anxiety coupled with obsessive thoughts.
And here was the real problem, she explained: Burn would have these thoughts about something, like, for example, when he was younger, Burn couldn’t get it out of his head that his father was going to die a violent death, so he became superanxious every time his father left the house, for, like, years. Sometimes it was so bad that he would cry, just cry whenever his father left, and it didn’t stop until the man came home at night, and this went on for days, weeks, months. And then of course, their father died in the World Trade Center, exactly fulfilling Burn’s worst nightmare.
And, this was only one example of the problem, which was, as she phrased it, every time Burn had severe anxiety about something, whatever it was, that something always ended up coming true. Call it a self-fulfilling prophecy or whatever, it was a constant nightmare for him and his family. He’d have a thought, then the thought became all he could think about, then came the anxiety, then, oddly, came the actual event that proved he was right. And Burn, being as smart as he was, figured that somehow he had used logic, not some psychic connection to the universe, in order to come up with all these horrible thoughts. So even if he couldn’t figure out the source, he knew that he would eventually have to deal with the consequences when the thought became a reality.
I was trying to follow all this, but it all got too complicated for me. Newman, however, was way into this conversation and asked, didn’t everyone kind of have that feeling now and then? Not me, I said. And Roxanne said, not so much her, the world just totally sucked to her, so nothing surprised her. Kenny said that he did, maybe once.
But for Burn, it was a constant thing. This, no matter what kind of medication he was given, no matter how many pills or combinations of drugs, no matter how many assurances from his mom that there was nothing to worry about. And to make matters worse, significantly worse, ever since their mom died, Burn had taken himself off all the meds he was on, which even if they didn’t help, you weren’t supposed to do all at once.
And now for the kicker. According to Roxanne, there were three people who he obsessed about all the frickin’ time. Wanna guess?
One . . . this one’s easy. Roxanne. Especially now that everyone else in his family was gone. Burn was always worried about Roxanne, and it didn’t help matters that she once tried to kill herself and that she was always disappearing for days, going off to the city, and that she was always attracted to people who were, as he phrased it, dark souls.
Two . . . Me. Ever since he moved to town as a kid. Because, according to Burn, I was in some ways the exact opposite of him, because it seemed to him that whenever I thought something positive, not negative, it came true. He also told Roxanne that I was some sort of messenger. Only he himself was the actual message and me being the messenger, I wasn’t capable of knowing the message, so he had to, in some way, wake me up out of my stupor, which in some way would let him know what the message was. WTF?
OK, even Newman said, “Fucked up,” when he heard this explanation.
Three . . . Now I’m willing to bet you’re thinking it’s Christina, because I was thinking it was Christina, had to be, who else would it be?
The actual answer was . . .
Jamie Crashinsky.
My sister?
Jamie, who had never done much except watch TV and keep to herself, was somehow on Burn’s radar, because he had this idea that he had to save her. From what, Roxanne didn’t know, but he was sure it was his responsibility. And get this, according to Roxanne, Burn felt that being at my house that Thanksgiving night years before, figuring out about my father’s relationship with Felicia, was all about saving Jamie’s life, not mine.
Go figure.
There were others on his list, ranking well below us three: Mr. Connelly, Pete, a few teachers, one of Roxanne’s city friends, and of course Christina. And there was also Jacob, as in my father, who Burn hated intensely because he said that my father was a bad man without a soul.
I felt a momentary twinge of feeling for my father and almost defended him, but truth was, I couldn’t argue with Burn on that one. Not then, not now. Still, according to Roxanne, if you asked David Burnett who he was most afraid of, his answer was always the same: David Burnett.
Good to know, as we were, according to the GPS, one minute from arriving at our destination.
We pulled into the shopping center, past the Walmart on one side, and followed the GPS, driving slowly along the outer rim of the parking lot to Barnes & Noble. The minivan was easy to spot because it was parked in an area where there were no other cars. Burn had backed in, and the van faced away from a row of trees behind it. I could make out two people in the front seats.
“Pull up in front of it so they can’t drive off,” Kenny’s contribution from the bottom of his genius mind; this as Roxanne was doing exactly that. Duh.
We got out as a group, me and Kenny from the passenger side, Newman and Roxanne from the driver’s side. Four car doors slam at once. Other than that, there were no sounds at all. A blast of winter air hit me, and I realized that we were all completely underdressed. It had to be like twenty degrees colder than it was when we left Westchester. The cold blast felt good and bad at the same time, definitely woke you up. Plus it was a very dark night, pitch-black, except for the amber glow of the mall lights.
I went for the passenger door of the van and saw Christina staring back from inside the passenger window, which was partially fogged up. The door was locked. I motioned for her to open it, but she wasn’t moving.
At the same time, Burn got out of the van, slamming the door, way louder than our doo
r slams, not that it was a contest, but you could tell from the sound that this was one angry motherfucker.
“Get the feeling we’re in a bad western?” Kenny said. “Showdown time.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Burn yelled at his sister. Then, turned to us, “What the fuck are they doing here?” he asked her.
“Taking you home,” she yelled back with equal force.
Now he was moving quickly toward her, so I crossed over in front of the van, knowing that I was going to do whatever I had to in order to protect her from her brother. I moved her back, behind me, to shield her.
Apparently that simple movement was enough for him to figure everything out. “Holy fucking shit, you’re banging my sister, aren’t you? Please don’t tell me you’re banging my sister.”
Well, that was quick.
Roxanne forearmed me in the chest, pushing me back, not afraid of Burn at all, and got up in his face. “This is not about Crash, David. This is about you and your stupid road trips. If you want to go on them, fine. But you can’t just kidnap people and force them to go along with you.”
“Who said anything about ‘kidnap’?” He was talking back to her, but he never stopped looking at me. “She agreed to come along. We were just talking.”
“Then why hasn’t she come out the van?” Newman asked.
“Shut the fuck up, Alex.” He shot Newman a look, then back to Roxanne. “Why in fuck’s name did you bring all these morons with you? Did you think I was going to do something . . . ? You did, didn’t you?”
“I just want you to come home, is all,” Roxanne back at him. Now, Christina was finally stepping out of the passenger side. I backpedaled, basketball style with my eyes on Burn until I got to her, asked if she was OK, she said she was OK, asked if he did anything to her, she said he didn’t do anything to her, this all while he was staring at me, tapping his right hand on his pants like a drumbeat from a song that only he could hear.
“Tell them, Christina,” Burn demanded.
“We’re fine here,” she said, adding, “I just want to go home.”
She was shivering. Even though she was wearing a winter coat, the cold was cutting into her, making her look frail and tired. I, for one, was not feeling the cold at the moment. In fact, I was feeling oddly hot.
“Crashinsky”—Roxanne motioned over to me—“why don’t you and your friends take her into the bookstore and get her some coffee or something. I need to talk with my brother.”
I thought this wasn’t such a great idea, given the way Burn was looking at his sister, so I suggested, “Why don’t I stay here with you. Newman and Kenny can go.”
“Yeah, Roxanne,” Burn concurred, “Crash should stay with us, don’t you think?”
“We’re fine without him,” she said.
“Then why did you fucking bring him in the first place?” yelling.
“I’m c-c-c-cold,” said Christina interrupting, all chattering teeth, and with that, Kenny walked off with her to the bookstore. The rest of us watched. Burn turned to Newman. “Go with them,” he commanded
“Fuck you, Burnett,” Newman said. “I’ll do whatever I want.”
And then Burn just stood there, nodding, still tapping his leg with his hand, more inner music, I thought. He was watching Christina, not saying a word. I started to lose my heat and finally noticed how biting cold it was.
And then Christina and Kenny disappeared into the store.
And then Burn whipped out a gun.
And pointed it at me.
“Are you or are you not fucking my sister, Crash?” he said from behind the weapon. “And before you answer, bear in mind that if you admit you are, I will shoot you. Of course, if you lie, I will shoot you twice.”
I will admit that at that point I had absolutely no previous experience with real weapons. Sure I had played paintball numerous times and done things like laser tag and shit like that, but facing down the barrel of an actual real gun was an entirely different experience. Especially a gun that was held by a guy who his own sister only minutes before said had like every emotional disorder in the book. To make matters worse, my options were not good. Because I had fucked his sister and I couldn’t tell him that. Burn, being Burn, would know I was lying if I said otherwise.
Also, I was now frozen, not feeling like Crash Bandicoot at all. This was not an obstacle that I could escape from, not a boulder to outrun or a turtle to jump over. Plus, one good shot and game over.
Something else I will admit, not having admitted this before. I tasted my insides. I know that sounds weird, but my mouth went dry, and there was this metallic taste coming up on me. I never until that moment thought about dying, and now I wondered if the taste that I was tasting was like a death taste or something.
I remained absolutely still.
So, apparently, did Newman, though I didn’t see him. To be honest with you, I didn’t see anything except the barrel of the gun, which grew increasingly larger in my vision until I started to feel sucked into it.
“You have three seconds to answer,” said the voice on the other end of the chamber. “One . . .”
“Two . . .”
My body tightened into a ball, all muscles contracted at the same time so I felt the pain before I heard the shot. Only there was no actual shot.
Because Roxanne stepped in between us. Just in time.
“What you going to do? Shoot me, David?” she yelled at him, demanding to know.
This was only a small consolation to me, because if the answer was yes, since I was directly behind her, the bullet would probably go right through me as well.
“Put the frickin’ gun down, David,” she said. “This kid came here to save you, you idiot. He’s your goddamned friend. Is this how you repay him? And get it out of your frickin’ head that he’s after your girlfriend. She’s not your girlfriend anyway, get that through your thick skull. And as for Steven, he doesn’t even know she exists. He’s been studying with me every week. I know all there is to know about him. He’s in love with me, you idiot, and I kind of have feelings for the kid too, so leave him alone.”
“Move the fuck away, Roxanne,” Burn said, her confession only fueling his anger.
Instead, she stepped closer. “Go ahead, do it, David. I frickin’ dare you.”
It was, for an instant, as if she changed from totally responsible to totally reckless. Like she actually wanted him to do it, baiting him, and he recognized that. His face went blank.
She took another step closer.
Another step, and then she put her hand out and gently lowered the barrel, so it was facing the ground, still with the two of them holding it.
I felt absolutely no relief whatsoever.
“One condition, Roxanne,” he told her. “You have to promise not to see him, or even speak to him again.”
Up until that point, I was merely watching from the outside, definitely not capable of resolving anything between the two of them, in fact, not capable of even speaking, between the absolute cold and the shock of the gun pointed at me and the absolute clarity of Roxanne’s revelation to her brother. And now, because of what she said, of what I now knew, it was on me.
“You can’t do that” is what I mumbled to him and her at the same time.
“Fuck you, Crash. It’s karma. If I can’t be with Christina, you can’t be with my sister,” he said to me before turning back to his sister. “Is it a deal?”
She looked at me, then him, then me again. Our eyes met on the second glance, and what I felt was how much I needed this girl, no matter what her reputation was, no matter how nasty or sarcastic she could be to me, no matter how much she pretended that what we had was strictly fun or whatever it was to her. To me she was my lover, my closest friend, and, in a way, the big sister I never had. And now, for a fleeting instant, she had finally admitted it, so everything would work out.
And this is what I tried to tell her just from my staring into her eyes.
And the message I g
ot back from her eyes was “Good-bye, Crashinsky.”
“First you promise me something, David,” she told him. “Promise me that you will leave him alone from now on, that you won’t go near him . . . or Christina again. Ever,” she insisted. “Promise me, David.”
He looked at me for a long time, and the message I got back from his eyes was “It’s not over.”
Still, he nodded to her. Game over. I lived. Although it didn’t feel like it at the moment.
“Then, I promise,” she told her brother, looking away from me, took the gun, and hugged him. And now, seeing as she finally had the gun, all of my muscles released at once and I felt like a pool of Jell-O that was starting to melt from the release of all that heat and simultaneously to jell up from the freezing cold wind that snapped across the mall with a sudden whoooooooooooosh . . .
Newman grabbed me from out of nowhere. I didn’t know that I was collapsing from the weight of the pressure that I had been feeling.
“Let’s go home, David,” Roxanne told her brother. “I know how hard it’s been for you.” She tossed Newman the keys to her car and ushered Burn back to the van, signaling us to go, always looking directly at Newman, never glancing back to me. It was as if I had instantly disappeared from her mind, vision, and memory.
Then they were gone.
Newman and I watched the van drive off.
“OK,” Newman said. “That was fucking amazing.”
He was still holding me.
“You don’t think she means it, do you?” I asked him, hoping that he saw something that I didn’t.
“Crash,” he said, “you better get yourself a new girlfriend. The sooner the better.”
We went together, scratch that, Newman basically carried me, into the bookstore to thaw out. And while we sat with the others, neither of us said anything about what had transpired, or even mentioned the gun. I think we figured that we would be talking about it some other time. What we needed to do was get Christina home and then figure out what to do about Burn.
Crash and Burn Page 36
