Reviver: A Novel

by Seth Patrick

  The disappointment in her eyes was matched with concern. ‘Jonah?’ she asked.

  He looked away, then picked up his drink and downed the last third. He spoke fast, trying to talk away what had just happened. ‘This is a little intense,’ he said. ‘I need another one. Same again?’

  Tess Neil nodded, crestfallen. ‘I’m sorry, Jonah, I…’ she started, but Jonah held up his hand.

  ‘Don’t be. And don’t move.’ He smiled. ‘I’m coming back.’

  * * *

  The bar was busy. He was glad of the time it would take, time enough to work out if doing what he was about to do was a disastrous idea or not. A hand fell on his shoulder.

  ‘How’s it going?’ asked Never.

  ‘I’m not sure. You?’

  ‘I’m making friends.’ He indicated a group sitting near the bar. ‘A bunch of people came down from Chicago with Thorne, and some of the North East crowd have shown up. Seems like a good bunch.’ His volume dropped. ‘I think that brunette’s taken a liking to me.’ He grinned.

  Jonah took a look. As he did, the girl flashed a smile their way. ‘She’s cute. Try not to get too drunk, huh?’

  ‘Tell them that. They’re halfway through the cocktail menu already. Now, come on, tell me. How’s it going?’

  ‘Bewildering,’ Jonah said, as Never looked him over with a diagnostic eye.

  ‘She’s after your body,’ Never pronounced. Jonah smiled, nodding, and Never grinned.

  ‘I’m a little shaken,’ Jonah said. He found Never’s grin hard to talk to. ‘Please, be serious. I’m confused. I haven’t seen her for seven years and then she shows up like this? I don’t know if it’s a good idea.’

  ‘So why did she show up?’

  ‘She’s here to say good-bye. She’s leaving the country and not coming back.’

  ‘Ah! That explains everything. She wants a farewell fuck!’

  Jonah glared. ‘Please. I’m struggling here.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He shrugged. ‘She wants to say good-bye. With sex.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘And you’re wary because…’

  ‘I don’t know how I feel about that.’

  ‘Listen, this girl’s been in your head since you were effectively a kid, yeah?’ He waited for Jonah to nod. ‘You want a girl out of your head, best thing you can do is shag her.’

  ‘And exactly how does that make sense?’

  ‘Trust me. If you don’t shag a girl you fancy you can’t move on. It makes it easier to be honest with yourself about her. And in the meantime – you’ve had a shag. See?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The day after, they’re either out of your system or burrowing in deep. Unless … shit. Unless you’re not sure which of those it’d be. Are you?’

  Jonah looked down. ‘I don’t want it to be a mistake, that’s all.’

  Putting his arm around Jonah’s shoulder, Never heaved a sigh. ‘I can’t tell you what to do, mate. If you don’t know how you’ll feel after, you need to be careful. But if she’s telling the truth, she’ll be gone. This opportunity won’t come round again. And if you’re going to make a mistake, you may as well make it a big one.’

  Jonah looked at him for ten full seconds, baffled. At last he gave up. ‘OK. Your logic’s impeccable.’

  ‘It is. You’re here for a drink?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Well, let’s see what we can do.’ He leaned across the bar and called out, ‘Ivan!’ repeating the name six more times until the bartender came over.

  ‘You’re a persistent son of a bitch,’ said the bartender, somewhere between amused and pissed off.

  ‘I know, Ivan,’ Never grinned, ‘but my friend here has a beautiful woman waiting who needs an urgent drink.’

  Ivan frowned at Never for a moment, then the frown fell away. He turned to Jonah and smiled. ‘So it’s an emergency,’ he said. ‘What’ll it be?’

  * * *

  A drink in each hand, Jonah returned by an indirect path that allowed him to watch Tess unseen for a moment. Her hands were clasped on the table; she was gazing at them, pensive. As he drew nearer, her eyes closed. There was a melancholy in her expression that worried him.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, sitting and placing her drink on the table.

  She smiled, but there was still an edge of anxiety in her eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘Are you in trouble, Tess? Is that why you’re leaving?’

  ‘It’s not like that, Jonah. The reason I’m going is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I was just getting nostalgic about what I’m leaving behind. I meant what I said. You always made me want to be better than I am. You’re important to me, and I wanted you to know.’

  She took his hand in hers, her eyes looking right into his with an intensity that swallowed him.

  He opened his mouth to speak. It felt dry. ‘Tess…’ he said, caution brewing in his mind again. ‘What are we doing?’

  ‘Unfinished business, Jonah.’

  He opened his mouth again, but she put her finger against his lips, then she kissed him, deep and slow. He kissed back hard.

  Then they watched each other in silence for almost a minute, Tess smiling at him with that openness he loved in her, not her usual guarded amusement.

  Jonah’s mind was made up. He lifted his drink and downed it. ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  Standing at the bar, Never Geary saw his friend leave and raised his glass. ‘Good luck,’ he whispered.

  * * *

  Jonah and Tess sat in silence in the back of the cab on the way to Jonah’s apartment, Tess resting her head on his chest.

  After the twenty-minute drive, Jonah marched on, dragging a laughing Tess behind him, moving as quickly as walking would allow, up the stairwell to his door. He raised his key to the lock, but before he opened the door he turned to her.

  ‘You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?’ he asked. In answer, Tess grabbed him and kissed him.

  Jonah turned the key. They stumbled inside together and began to undress before the door had swung closed, grinning and giggling as they went. Both down to their underwear, Tess stopped Jonah’s hand in the act of removing his boxer shorts and shook her head.

  ‘Not until we’re in bed,’ she said. Jonah laughed explosively, at once embarrassed by the guffaw, but Tess’s smile was warm. ‘Let’s make this last,’ she added. Jonah agreed, and turned to the bedroom. Tess was behind, but she stopped when she heard a sound from the kitchen. It was Marmite, mewing. Tess was enraptured.

  ‘You have a cat?’

  He nodded, bemused that Tess could be distracted so easily. Marmite was sitting just inside the kitchen door, peeking out at them. The cat mewed again, and she went over, bent down and picked him up.

  ‘What’s she called?’

  ‘He,’ Jonah corrected. ‘Marmite. His claws are in need of a trim and he’s a bit frisky, so watch out.’ She started to baby-talk the animal as she stroked him. Jonah sighed and went to the fridge, amused and annoyed in equal measure. On the other hand, he thought, things had been heating so quickly it would have been over in an instant. A break was, in theory, welcome. ‘You want anything to eat? Or drink?’

  Tess looked up. ‘Glass of wine or something would be…’ Guilt ran across her face. ‘Oops. Kinda got sidetracked there.’

  ‘A little too easily,’ he said. Tess laughed and shook her head.

  ‘Sorry. Soft spot for cats. I had a black kitten when I was five. Kept peeing on the carpet. About a month after I got him he disappeared. My dad told me he’d run away.’

  Jonah knew about Tess’s dad. Abusive, emotionally if not physically, and a source of real pain for her.

  ‘Turned out he’d sold it to someone else,’ she said. ‘I only found that out after Dad died.’ She ruffled Marmite’s head. ‘I can’t even remember what I called my kitten. That’s terrible. Is there any food I can give him?’

  Jonah reached out to the box of dry food but had second
thoughts. He emptied a tin of tuna into a bowl and handed it to her. Marmite reached up on Tess’s bare leg, eager for her to set it down. She did, then watched the cat tuck in with gusto.

  ‘He eats like you,’ she said. ‘Only slower.’

  Jonah smiled. ‘You think I’m bad, you should see Never eat.’

  She shook her head. ‘I won’t be around.’

  Jonah saw genuine sorrow in her face. ‘You’re really going,’ he said. ‘And I really won’t see you again.’ She nodded, silent. ‘And no explanation.’

  Tess shook her head and turned to look at Marmite again. In the bright kitchen light, Jonah noticed a straight three-inch scar visible under her hair, just above her left ear. She saw him look, her hand coming up instinctively to hide it. He reached out and caressed the scar. ‘Surgery?’ he said, worry in his voice. ‘Is that what this is about?’

  ‘A minor tumour. Benign. I don’t want to talk about it, but it wasn’t as serious as it sounds. And it’s not why I’m leaving, although I guess things changed then. Made me think about what I really want.’ She looked at him in shared silence for a few seconds, smiling mischief. ‘Or who I want…’ She reached out and took his hand. ‘Bedroom. Now.’

  He led her in, thankful his sheets were less than a week old and the room was generally tidy. ‘Hang on,’ he told her, remembering the packet of condoms he’d got from the bar toilet vending machine on their way out, still in his jacket. When he returned, she was naked, on the bed. He watched her, overwhelmed. She smiled at him quizzically.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

  I don’t know why you’re here, he thought. I don’t know if this is a mistake.

  ‘Nothing at all,’ he said, and closed the door.

  * * *

  When he woke, he knew she was gone. He could smell her on the pillow beside him. The night had been long and perfect. They had played, and fucked, and cuddled and caressed, without fear of intimacy, without self-consciousness. He shut his eyes. Images of her skin filled him, the soft curves and the feel of himself against her and inside her, contact from head to foot and every square inch of it a delight. He thought of her mouth, as he kissed it and licked it, as it wrapped around him and explored his neck.

  He opened his eyes again. For an instant, he thought she might still be in the apartment, perhaps in the kitchen. He rose and went there but found only Marmite, drinking from his water bowl. Next to the sink was a second opened can of tuna. She’d stayed long enough to feed the cat.

  Beside the tin, a folded note, written on a sheet from a pad he kept for shopping lists. He left it where it was and went to the living room, finding his underwear and jeans. He put them on and sat on the couch for a few minutes. He’d wanted to say good-bye, at least. At least that.

  He saw the time – eleven-fifteen. He’d slept well and long. She’d probably been gone for hours.

  Feeling ready, he returned to the kitchen and read the note.

  Jonah, she’d written. I had to go. Didn’t want to wake you. You looked peaceful, and no one should disturb that. Be happy. Tess.

  Deflated, Jonah sat heavily by the kitchen table. Marmite brushed against his leg and he looked down.

  ‘Well, she said good-bye to you.’ The cat meowed and narrowed his eyes at him. ‘That’s something, I guess.’ Then he started to cry.

  He showered and thought about Tess. The water washed the tears from his face, tears that had been long in coming. He felt purged by them.

  He thought about why she had come to see him. Unfinished business. Closure.

  You’re important to me, and I wanted you to know. Had she really meant that?

  He couldn’t pin it down, but something had been different about Tess. She had always seemed lost, somehow. Rudderless. The night before she had been … what?

  He rolled it around in his mind until it came. Focused. Certain. That was it. He wondered about the surgery that had resulted in the scar above her ear; she’d denied it was serious, but he didn’t believe that. He had no idea why she was leaving the country, but whatever the reason, that must be where her new focus came from.

  She wasn’t lost any more, and he wished her well.

  Tess Neil had been a huge part of his life during the difficult years that had followed his mother’s death and the discovery of his ability. The chance that he could get in touch with Tess had been an open door ever since. An open door, and in some ways an open wound.

  That door was closed now. With luck, the wound could heal.

  14

  That night, Jonah dreamed of his mother.

  It began as it always did. He was looking up at the sky, lost in the clouds. His sanctuary.

  ‘Jonah?’ His mother’s voice from the front passenger seat snapped him back. He wondered how many times she had called his name before he’d noticed.

  ‘Your mother was wondering if you wanted to go out this evening.’ Stephen, his stepfather, always spoke with a flat voice when he talked to his stepson. They tolerated each other, for Claire’s sake, but there was an inevitable coldness to their dialogue. Jonah didn’t doubt his mother was aware of the strain.

  Jonah’s father, David Miller, had been an architect. He had died four years ago, electrocuted on a construction site. The out-of-court settlement had been enough to ensure financial security for a decade.

  Jonah was ten at the time and had grieved quietly. He cut off from friends and grew insular, far from the carefree child he had been. He spent as much time as he could with his mother, fearful when she was out of sight. Terrified of losing her.

  Stephen Brinley was the financial adviser Claire Miller had hired following the settlement with David’s firm. He was charming, handsome and earned enough that Claire’s own finances were unimportant. Jonah had the wisdom to understand that he would dislike anyone posturing to replace his father, but Stephen’s attitude to the boy had made the dislike rapidly degenerate into hate.

  To Stephen, Jonah was an irritation, his presence unfortunate. During the courtship of his mother, there were few occasions when the three of them went anywhere as a group, despite Claire’s assurances to her son that his approval of the relationship was crucial.

  Jonah could see how much happier his mother had become, even as his own happiness dissipated. He felt trapped. His disapproval was open at first, but gradually there was a change in his mother’s outlook. She hardened as she came to depend on Stephen, and came to see a future without him as unacceptable.

  Jonah realized that he had already lost part of her and risked losing her entirely. He couldn’t allow that to happen, and there was only one way to avoid it. He behaved in the manner that Stephen expected, keeping out of the way, speaking rarely, trying his best to appear happy. It worked too well. On Christmas Day, his mother and Stephen announced that they would marry.

  He kept to himself more and more, and in her happiness his mother failed to notice he had withdrawn. There was little need for a mask, once the difficult wedding day had passed and life had settled into a routine. Jonah’s low-impact presence at home, and his apparent success at school – he got into no trouble, and achieved exactly as much as was expected of him – meant that Stephen felt no threat.

  * * *

  Jonah found himself happy only on those rare times that Stephen was gone long enough for his mother to become herself again, to stop reflecting the opinions and personality of her new husband.

  And now Jonah was in the car, with one of those times to look forward to. They were off to the airport, his stepfather going on a two-week business trip in Europe. His mother had been adamant that Jonah come along for the send-off. She was morbidly keen on pretending their family unit was a great success, and so a suitably emotional farewell was called for. The emotions had started early, Stephen misplacing his passport and casting blame on everyone but himself. Unexpectedly high traffic made Stephen grow even more tense, running lights and pushing up his speed in an effort to make up time.

  ‘I said, your mother was
wondering if you wanted to go out this evening,’ Stephen said, his tone impatient. Jonah kept his own voice gentle. He spoke directly to his mother.

  ‘I hoped we’d maybe go see a movie?’

  ‘That’d be nice,’ she replied.

  ‘Remember I get in around nine your time,’ said Stephen. ‘I want you to be home when I call.’

  ‘No,’ Claire corrected, innocently. ‘It’ll be more like eleven. We’ll make sure we’re back by then.’

  Stephen had been pressing close to the car ahead during this discussion, feet away at sixty miles an hour. He accelerated and overtook the car, oncoming traffic far too close for comfort.

  ‘Slow down, sweetheart,’ Jonah’s mother said. ‘We’ll make it.’

  ‘We’re fifteen minutes away,’ Stephen replied witheringly. ‘I’m supposed to be checked in within twenty. Unless you can travel through time, just let me get on with driving?’

  As he said it, he overtook the truck ahead of them, ignoring the bend they were on, not seeing the oncoming bus.

  Jonah’s mother called out. Stephen pulled on the steering wheel, tried to get back into the lane, but they weren’t past the truck yet. There was nowhere to go. He slammed on the brakes. The car swerved, starting to spin, but the bus was already on them.

  ‘No,’ said Claire, her voice vanishingly small as the huge vehicle hit the passenger side.

  There were flashes of pain, a terrible wrenching sensation, falling and tumbling and overwhelming noise. Then dark.

  In the black, Jonah was aware of a smell of gas and hot metal. He knew he’d lost consciousness for a moment. The world wasn’t moving anymore, but his mind spun. He opened his eyes carefully, unable to make sense of his surroundings. He moved his hands, holding them in front of his face and staring until they came into focus, spattered with blood. He looked around him. His mother was in the front seat, her head turned to the empty driver’s side.

  ‘Mom?’ he said, a dry croak. ‘Mom?’ There was no response. He unfastened his seat belt, feeling a hot stripe of pain where the belt had bitten into him. His legs felt distant. He moved them with care and leaned forward. There was a stabbing pain in his chest, which he tried to ignore.