by Dyan Brown
The water is still going on the other side, but I thought I heard a grunt. If he fell, would it be louder? Not if he’s unconscious. He has been drinking. I should just peek and see if he’s okay.
I’ll just poke my head in, make sure he’s standing, and close the door. I’d yell, but that may encourage another awkward conversation. Besides, this way I may be able to see him naked. I sling the dress over the crook of my arm and walk to the door.
I put one hand on the knob and another on the door, going for a stealth opening. It opens soundlessly, and I breathe a sigh of relief through the inch-wide gap. Pushing harder on the door, it opens enough for my head to fit through, and steam curls out the door to meet me.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
Dismissing my conscience, I poke my head into the open door and look around the small bathroom. Steam has filled the bathroom in the few minuets he’s been in here. I look toward the shower door to see if I can see anything, any outline, but the steam is too thick. I hear another low grumble from Grayson and step into the bathroom.
Oh God, is he sick?
I come up closer to the door, and I’m about to call out when his outline is finally in view. He is leaning his head against his arm on the side wall with his back to me. I wonder if he’s thrown up. Quietly I wipe the steam off the glass door to see him better, and I freeze.
25
I find myself unable to look away. His muscles are all tense. I want to look at his ass, which was my original intention, but my eyes are glued to what I can see of his right arm. I watch his elbow, rhythmically pumping from side to side. There are two things that rise in me as my pulse starts to race, anger and absolute rejection.
Grayson climaxes and moans, straining against the tile as he finishes the orgasm. I need to move; I need to leave. He turns into the water and rubs his face, looking tired. I’m vaguely aware that my hand is covering my mouth in shock.
Move, Sam!
I back away slowly, but my butt hits the counter and knocks a can of shaving cream into the sink. It loudly clangs several times, and I yelp at the sound.
“Samantha?”
“Shit!” I can’t face him. I can’t face whatever excuse he has for choosing his own fucking hand over me. I feel the air turn cold as I stumble into the bedroom.
“Samantha!” I can hear shuffling behind me as he is struggling to turn off the water and get out of the shower. “Shit! Samantha, wait!” I fumble with the doorknob as I slip the dress over my head and slam the door closed behind me. I don’t bother worrying about the fact that my dress is now soaking up the remainder of the moisture in my swimsuit.
I nearly run to the stairs, and I can hear Grayson calling for me as I start to descend them. I walk quickly around the front room, finding Abby. As soon as she sees me, she pops up from Jay’s lap and hugs me.
How did she…?
Hot liquid rolls out of the corner of my eye and down the side of my cheek. Oh, I’m crying. “Abby, I want to go home.”
“Absolutely!” She turns her head to Jay. “Can you drive?” There’s a pause. “Give me your keys. Come on, girly.” We walk to the front door as Grayson calls again from the top of the stairs.
“Samantha, stop!”
I don’t even look back—I can’t. “Please, Abby,” I whisper.
She, however, does look at him before looking back at me with a nod.
“Go outside, just one second.” She pushes me out the door and closes it between us.
Her voice is muffled, but I know she’s telling Grayson something. Hopefully to leave me the fuck alone. I descend the few steps off the porch to wait for her.
The door opens and closes behind me. I have a moment of panic when I think perhaps Grayson won out over my new friend, but I turn to see her taking the four steps off the patio in pairs and breathe a sigh of relief.
“What did he say? No, what did you say? No.” I wave her off with my hand. “I don’t want to know. Where are we going?”
“There.” She points to a gray Infinity across the street. I practically stomp across the yard toward it. “Hey—do you want me to go find your shoes?”
“What?” Spinning around in the grass, I notice the feel of the cold, damp blades under my feet. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” I sigh, throw my hands out to the side in frustration, and slam them back down. I know I’m throwing a hissy fit, but at the moment, I just don’t give two fucks if I’m acting childish. I’m pissed and embarrassed.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll find them,” she says as she starts to turn back toward the house.
“Please, no. I don’t care. It’s just a car ride; I’ll find them later. I need to get out of here before I lose it.” I try to calm down a little. Being the cause of drama is not the best way to keep a new friend.
“You got it, girly. Let’s hit it.”
We are driving down the road a few minutes later, going psychotically slow. I guess if someone is truly your friend, they don’t care about your weird phobias. The speed limits have always been a comforting thing to me; all the speed limits around the campus are crazy slow. Right now, though, I just want to be home. Like, an hour ago, as I should have been.
“Okay.” I finally break the silence she is allowing me. “What did he say?”
“He said he just wanted to apologize. I told him that was fine, and he could do it later,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Did he say what happened?”
“No, he was trying to say something else, but I just told him to give you a day to cool off. I figured you’d tell me what happened.” She pauses for a moment. “You don’t have to.”
“Oh, no it’s fine… I think. It’s just… We were in the hot tub and it was going well, but he stopped us again. It was kinda awkward after that, so I asked him to take me home.” I play with my locket, trying not to choke on my words.
“I can imagine.”
“Then he asked if he could clean up before he took me home, which was fine. We went to his room so he could. While he was in the bathroom, I thought I heard him in pain or something, so I went in to see if he’d gotten sick.” The images flash through my mind, and my stomach turns at the refreshed thoughts. “He was…”
“Jacking off?” she says nonchalantly.
“How could he do that?” I burst out. “I was right there! And I was obviously willing. He’s the one who keeps stopping us. We could have kept messing around and not had sex, but no.” I stretch out the last word. “He just stops the whole thing. All or nothing.” My frustration is taking over as my stomach churns with mortification. “I mean, seriously. He either wants me or not. He’s giving me a freaking complex.
“Where does he get the right to come and leave me wanting all the fucking time? Don’t I deserve an orgasm? Excuse me, but it’s been six months and we’ve gotten to foreplay once? Are you kidding me? How can he be so attentive to everything else and ignore a major part of our relationship like that? We’re both adults!” I sound more like I’m whining than ranting.
Abby just snickers. “Do you feel better?”
“No.”
“Want some advice?”
“Considering you’re my only friend? Yeah. That’d be nice. Besides, other than my parents, you’re the only one I know in a normal relationship.”
She really laughs this time. “Ha! Jay and I are far from having a ‘normal’ relationship, but that’s a story for another night.” She pulls into my complex and makes the two turns to my building, then puts the car in park. “Look, you know guys do that, like, all the time, right?”
“Yeah,” I say with slight discomfort.
I just wish he’d waited till I left.
“I know it doesn’t make it hurt any less, but he probably had to finish himself off because you got him so riled up.” She turns to me in her seat. “Look, I don’t think this is as big of a deal as you’re making it, but I haven’t known you long, either. Grayson may be dealing with something he’s not ready to share
yet, and I’m sure that’s something you can understand, right?”
I give a small harrumph. “Yeah, I guess. But it’s not the same thing.” His golden aura flashes in my mind.
“Just because it may not be the same doesn’t mean it isn’t just as difficult,” she reasons. “It’s likely the reason he doesn’t want to take it farther has nothing to do with you. The fact that you’re the first girl I’ve ever known him to date says a lot. Don’t discount that.”
I mull over what she says for a moment and then look at the dash. One-thirty. “Wow, this has been the longest day—no, week—I’ve had in a long time. You should get back to Jay. Thank you for bringing me home.”
“Need me to come in?”
“I’ll be all right. I’m so tired I can’t even think anymore tonight. Get back safe. Text me…” Wait, where’s my phone? “Shit. My phone’s with my shoes in the bathroom where we changed.”
“I’ll get them both. I’m sorry I pushed you to seduce him,” she apologizes.
“Abby, you had no idea! I did. But I also had to try. Don’t worry about it.” I open the door and step out onto the cold pavement. “Thanks again. Be safe!”
“You too!” she calls as I close the car door.
I walk around the front of the car and to the hall where my door is, then I knock and wait, looking back toward the parking lot. Abby has pulled the car up so she can make sure I get in all right. There’s no reply for a minute, so I cop-knock.
“April! I don’t have my key!” I yell close to the door. It’s not exactly my goal to wake up the building.
There’s a muffled “Hang on,” from the other side of the door.
Thank God!
I wave at Abby to let her know I’m good just as April opens the door, less than amused at being woken up.
“Jesus, really? Can’t you remember a key?” She’s already walking back to her room. “Or your shoes? Those were new, you know.”
I almost want to laugh that the shoes are the first thing she notices. Not that I look like a drowned doll, not that I’ve been crying, but that my shoes are gone. I close the door behind myself. “I know where they’re at.”
“Good.” She leans against the doorframe and gives my feet a look. “Because I was planning on stealing them sometime. I’m going back to bed.” She spins around and shuts the door between us.
Finally alone, I look at my door and realize exactly how tired I am. My head is pounding, my shoulders are throbbing, and for some reason, my legs are achy. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge to try to get rid of any lingering alcohol in my system. Just to cover my bases, I swallow a pair of aspirin, spin the cap back on the bottle, and head to my room.
When I make it to my room, I push the door closed behind me. Looking at my bed, I think I should get out of the dress, rinse off the chlorine, change into PJs, and take a sleeping pill. My eyes are already closing just standing in the dark, and I fall on the bed without doing anything I should.
I’ll just lie here for a moment, and then I’ll take a sleeping pill. Just a moment.
That’s the last thing I remember before there’s an all-too-familiar pull on my soul.
26
I want to cry.
I’m so tired. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. I can’t do this right now. I just need to sleep, but that doesn’t seem to matter to anyone but me. I’m pulled out of my body anyway.
As the room comes into view, it takes me a moment to realize I’m in a garage. It’s so hazy. It’s not thick enough to be smoke. No, a car? There’s the low hum of an engine across the garage from me. The rest of the area becomes clear.
A dark green, late-nineties Cadillac is idling with the windows down. I look closer and see someone in the driver’s seat.
“Shit!”
I run to the car door and pull on the handle, my adrenaline spiking. Nothing, I don’t have any physical ability yet. “Sir?” I call through the open window to the older man sitting with his head lying back against the headrest, his mouth open toward the roof of the car.
His chest rises and falls in short, sharp breaths that are much too far apart. He is fading fast.
“Sir? Can you hear me? Please, don’t do this!” I look around for a button to the garage door, but the air is too muddled with exhaust. “Help! Someone!”
I feel my way through the garage around the walls, looking for any switch at all. I find one, but it’s only a light switch and does nothing. Fumbling around over tools and boxes of paper, I find the garage door and pull on it, using my leg muscles for the most leverage. Nothing.
Calm down. Calm down, Sam, and think. There’s no pull for me to do anything. I go back over to the man. Why, God? Why would you have me sit here and watch this man kill himself and not let me save him. Why aren’t you stopping him? Even though I know the man can’t hear me, I talk anyway.
“Why are you doing this? Nothing is this bad. Nothing. I have the weight of the world resting on my shoulders, and I couldn’t even contemplate doing this. What is so bad that you think this is the best option?” I plead.
Figuring all I can really do is give him comfort in the last few minutes he has, I reach through the open window and hold his hand. To my surprise, he returns my grip for a fragile moment.
“Thank you,” he breathes out, and then his whole body relaxes as he moves from this world into God’s hands.
Harder than I should for a man I don’t know, I cry. My very soul is weeping for a man I couldn’t save. I failed.
In my mind, I’m back at that tiny apartment, failing to save Tessa’s mom. And then I’m on the highway again as Cedrick holds me back, watching that sweet dog be violently struck by a car.
What greater good is coming from this? I wait for an answer that never comes and cry.
Ten minutes, thirty minutes, an hour? I don’t know.
When my tears run into dry heaves for the now three lives I’ve seen end, I try to gather my thoughts of what to do next. Why haven’t I returned to my body?
I reach inside and turn off the car, then walk over to the garage door, tug slightly, and curse to myself as it now opens with the gentlest pull. I want to cuss at God. He made it impossible for me to save him. That’s not fair.
When the air clears, I see stairs to my side leading up into the house. I walk over to sit on the step when I feel my first pull back over to the man. “What?” I spit out bitterly. “I can’t save him, remember? You decided that!” I say to the ceiling as I walk over. But the pull is tugging at me all the same.
I go to the man but standing beside the door isn’t enough. I’m still feeling a pull, so I look at him. Is something missing? What could he need from me now? Missing.
Why do I keep thinking something is missing?
I inspect the man further. Glasses sit beside him in the passenger seat. His hands are relaxed, palms up in his lap. Plaid collared shirt buttoned up and tucked into a belted pair of slacks. I look back at his hands. Missing.
“Where is your letter?” Everyone leaves a letter to tell their loved ones about why, right? “You had to leave one,” I tell him.
In the dim light, I look around the car, but nothing strikes me. Leaning in, I hold my breath like it will help me while I get closer to the dead man. When I realize what I’ve just done, I exhale and try to breathe normally as I open the car door.
I look at the side of the seat. Nada. I gracelessly get to my knees, suddenly aware that I fell asleep in my dress. Tilting my head to the side, I scan the floorboard area. In the dim light of the car’s overhead light, I see absolutely nothing.
I sit back on my haunches in disappointment. It has to be here. Sighing, my eyes settle on my left hand and then see, just beyond my knuckles, the edge of a folded piece of paper poking out of the driver’s side door trash compartment. My fingers tremble as I pick up the thick, cream-colored stationary and unfold the single crease.
Barrie,
I am so sorry to leave you like this. There is nothing that can eve
r help losing someone you love, and I’m sorry you have to lose me after losing both your parents. I regret most that this means I will lose you, too, but you’re 20 now, and you can take care of yourself. You made the last years of my life so joyful, and I thank you for that. You made them full of meaning—something I didn’t have after your grandmother died.
I know you may not understand why I did this. I know you may think me weak, and that is true. This is the coward’s road I have taken. I couldn’t stand to go through what she went through. Or to put you through what I went through with her. It’s all just too painful and long. This is better for me. ‘Terminal’ leaves me no other option. Everything is yours, of course. I’ve made some good investments, just be smart and you’ll always have somewhere to fall.
I love you so very much, son. Please don’t forget that. Please be content I didn’t live my last moments in pain like they all did.
~ Grandpa Phil
By the end of the letter, I’m sitting with my head and shoulders leaning against the backdoor, tears once again running down my cheeks. As my hand drops, I watch the letter settle on my skirt, which has pooled around my legs. I close the driver’s side door. My emotions are stuck between understanding, sorrow, and pain for this man and his grandson.
But my emotions aren’t supposed to matter in what we do, are they? We help further God’s will. I guess this end was merciful, and it was Phil’s choice. No matter what the Touched do to help mankind, they’ll always have free will. That’s our gift and our curse.
My thoughts are disrupted by the swish of headlights pulling into the driveway. I get up, move around to the far side of the car, and hide in the shadow of a messy workbench. The car door opens, and a young male voice calls out.
“Grandpa?” The door closes. “Grandpa, you in there?”
