by C. S. Lakin
From the second Levi awoke to the moment he fell asleep at night, guilt ate at his stomach like a burning acid. Every time he spoke, he stuttered again—just like when he was small. He felt like everyone was watching his every move expecting him to do something terrible. His aunt glued her evil eye on him and never let up. The only thing that took the edge off was alcohol, relaxed him enough so he wouldn’t tear all his words up into shreds. He knew he shouldn’t drink, but Simon hated to drink alone. And he always had a joint to share or some pills or ecstasy or acid. He’d tried to refuse, wanting to make a clean break, atone for his past, even ask God to forgive him, if that were possible. But he just couldn’t. He went to church dutifully every Sunday with his grandparents, who came to pick up Joey, since Dad refused to go and Joey insisted. Levi could tell his grandparents were angry with him too, but they pretended to be nice and Christian, tolerating him and saying polite things while their eyes showed their anger. He was sick of everyone acting so phony and pretending—his dad pretending life was back to normal but not even seeing any of them, people around Levi holding back all the mean things they wanted to say to him, smiling those fake smiles, all the while Levi knowing how they blamed him, would always blame him, for his mom’s death.
Levi jumped to his feet, couldn’t take looking at his sister any longer, couldn’t take being in the house, the walls like a prison closing in on him. He needed to get outside, ride his bike. He understood more and more why Reuben needed height, distance. He barely ever saw his oldest brother; Rube was always up on a mountain, far away from the world, all his problems looking so tiny from way up high. But Levi had no desire to climb; he longed to get on his bike and ride hard, pump his legs and pant and sweat all the pain out, although, like a thirsty well, it only filled right back up again. That’s where the drugs and booze came in. They gave him delicious oblivion for a time, numbing every pore so he couldn’t feel a thing, couldn’t hurt. So as hard as he tried to come clean, he knew it was a futile attempt.
He knew where he’d find Simon—hanging out at Shane’s, the drummer who was putting together a band Simon wanted to join. They’d be jamming and smoking and drinking, and maybe they’d have something Levi could take, to get him through one more rotten day.
He looked over at Dinah; she had gone deep inside, didn’t even respond when he said good-bye. He longed to touch her, even just put his hand on her head to feel reconnected to her, but he didn’t dare. She looked like she’d whither into a pile of dust, so fragile and delicate.
As he headed for the back door, passing Joey lying on the living room floor with his nose in some thick book, his aunt called out to him from the kitchen. He looked over and saw she was feeding the baby a bottle, sitting at the table and Ben in her lap. His aunt Abby had pretty much adopted Ben, since his dad couldn’t bear to be around him, the baby reminding him of Rachel, no doubt. Levi hadn’t considered it until now, but his dad probably blamed Ben as well for Rachel’s death. He really was the reason she’d died, like her pregnancy had been a kind of poison, killing her slowly, as Ben grew bigger and bigger in her womb, sucking the life from her until only one of them could survive.
He felt a sudden kinship to Ben, realizing this. Ben would probably grow up feeling just what Levi felt—guilt. It was inevitable.
“Where are you going?” his aunt asked, not masking the hostility in her voice.
“Out.”
“That’s not an answer, Levi.”
“It is to me.” He knew she wouldn’t try to get up and face him. He was halfway out the door, anyway.
“Just know one thing, young man.”
Levi stopped. Here it comes, another lecture. How he’d pay for what he did, how God would punish him for Rachel’s death, how he’d burn in hell for eternity. He’d heard enough fire and brimstone from her to last that eternity. He wanted to tell her to piss off, but what good would it do?
“What?” he asked, not even turning around.
“God is watching you. He sees everything. And what you do in the dark, he will bring out into the light—all your wicked deeds. And he’ll require an accounting some day.”
He smirked, then turned and smiled. “You know what, Aunt Abby? You’re right. You’re absolutely right. And I’m sure you’ll be happy, sitting there in heaven with my mom and watching me burn in hell. I hope it will give you years of enjoyment!”
He let the screen door slam shut behind him, knowing his retort probably stunned her. He wanted to laugh it all off, but deep in his heart, that little fear raised its ugly head. For, he knew she was right and that some day he would stand before God and have to face what he had done. Someday.
But today, he would drown that fear in booze. Cheap vodka, scotch, beer—whatever Shane and Simon had on hand. And even though it wouldn’t be enough, was never enough, it would do the trick for now, just as he expected it would for most of the rest of his worthless, miserable life.
1990
Do You Remember?
We never talked about it
But I hear the blame was mine
I’d call you up to say I’m sorry,
But I wouldn’t want to waste your time
’Cause I love you, but I can’t take anymore
There’s a look I can’t describe in your eyes
If we could try like we tried before
Would you keep on telling me those lies?
Do you remember?
There seemed no way to make up,
’Cause it seemed your mind was set
And the way you looked it told me,
It’s a look I know I’ll never forget
You could’ve come over to my side,
You could’ve let me know
You could’ve tried to see the distance between us
But it seemed too far for you to go
Do you remember?
Through all of my life,
In spite of all the pain
You know that people are funny sometimes,
’Cause they just can’t wait to get hurt again,
Tell me do you remember?
—Phil Collins
Reuben watched one hand slap against the flat granite ledge, then the other appeared. Lindsay’s face, glistening with perspiration, followed, a joyous smile on her flushed face, a few strands of auburn hair sticking to her cheek. Reuben scooted over as she pulled herself up, detached her carabineer from the rope, sidled up next to him. Her breath evened out as she scanned the spectacular view overlooking Kern Canyon below.
“Wow,” she said. “Well worth the effort.”
“You’ve never climbed here before?”
“Other places in the Southern Sierras, but not The Needles.”
Reuben had seen her on some of the club outings, but had never had the chance—or the nerve—to talk to her. He knew she had also just graduated from high school—somewhere on the Westside—but he knew little else about her. . . other than she was gorgeous, confident, and an awesome climber. They were the first two to make it to the top of The Needles, and he was glad to have this time alone with her, although just being this close made him terribly self-conscious. Working the ropes with her up the granite rock was one thing—they’d been focused on their task of reaching their goal, helping each other over tough spots and formulating the route together as they went along. Sitting on a ledge eight thousand feet up, overlooking an endless forest with her only inches away—well, that was something else.
Soon the other six climbers would join them, and Reuben knew his private time with Lindsay would be cut short. There was something magical about being this high up and sharing the thrill with someone else. He couldn’t talk to anyone at home about how it felt; no one in his family understood. His mom used to listen, try to get his enthusiasm, but, well, it was a whole lot like trying to explain color to a blind person. How could you think of words to describe the sensation, a feeling almost like flying, soaring, hanging by a rope in midair, wind blowing through your hair, tickling your face?
Only another climber could understand. And looking at Lindsay’s shining, laughing eyes told him she knew exactly how it felt, and loved it as much as he did.
“So,” she said to him, sitting so close he could feel heat radiating off her legs, her beautifully shaped long legs, wearing those stretchy shorts, showing all her curves . . .
Reuben stopped staring at her and forced his gaze to the valley below. She continued, either not noticing his obvious blush or politely not remarking on it. “Now that you’re out of school, what are your plans?”
He blew out a breath. He could talk about this: safe things. “I moved out of my house and I’m living with two of the guys I work with at the store. I work at Pro Sports, in Encino.”
“Hey, I know that place. Been to it a few times.”
“All I want to do is save up some money so I can take some trips. I want to hit the peaks in Colorado first.”
“Oh, yeah. That would be cool. Hit all the Fourteeners. I’d love to do that.”
“You would?” Reuben felt his face heat up again.
“I so want to go. I’ve been to Colorado—it’s gorgeous. But I haven’t done anything other than some short day hikes there.”
“Well, I’m thinking by next summer I’ll have enough saved up to take at least a month. And it’s pretty cool where I work. As long as I can find someone to cover, I can take off as much time as I like. Everyone there is into some outdoor sport, so we all try to cover for each other, you know?”
“Sounds like a great job. I’m starting at the community college next month. My parents insist I go to college, but they don’t want to spring for it, so this is the cheapest route—and a way of getting them off my case. They think I’m nuts wanting to climb.”
“Yeah, same here. They just don’t get the thrill.”
Lindsay turned suddenly, looked deep into Reuben’s eyes. “The need.”
Reuben swallowed, afraid to even blink. “Yeah, it is a need.”
They both sat in silence, staring out at the view, the breeze cool on Reuben’s face. He closed his eyes and pictured himself on the summit of Everest, still his most compelling desire—but now a new longing welling up, competing with his heart, the urge to pull Lindsay toward him and kiss her. The idea startled him; he jerked and straightened.
“What?” she asked, searching his face.
He shrugged, afraid if he said anything, strange words would fling out of his mouth and he’d regret it. He’d never felt comfortable around girls. At school, they’d flirted with him—especially after he’d shot up and his voice dropped. He never knew what to say, didn’t know how to handle their attention. In some strange way, the exchanges he had with those girls made him think of his mother—his real mother, made him remember the coy way she’d look at his dad, the teasing and tickling. He found it hard to remember her now, what she was like, but those girls triggered his earliest memories, and they’d made him uncomfortable, like they were just toying with his feelings and not taking him seriously. A familiar feeling he’d tried to bury years ago.
But he didn’t feel that way around Lindsay. Maybe because she was a climber. Climbing made you serious, made you pay attention. You screwed up, you could end up smashed on rocks thousands of feet below. When you climbed, you didn’t joke around, treat life like some dumb joke, with a lighthearted, careless abandon. Every decision carried weight, a matter of life or death. He knew without having to ask that Lindsay saw life the way he did. They could skip all the silly meaningless small talk and get right to what was important.
Lindsay leaned over the edge and gazed down, then sat back. “Mike and Steve. They’re pulling up on the last ledge below us.”
Reuben nodded. He wished he could just sit up here, alone with Lindsay, for the rest of the afternoon. Wished suddenly that he could spill out all the feelings so bottled up inside him, feelings he’d never voiced, now piled up so high they felt about to burst out of his skin. How he felt so grieved over his mom’s death, anger at his brothers that he just couldn’t seem to resolve or push away, worry over his dad, who barely ever said three words when Reuben came over to visit or help out on the weekends. How when he walked through the door and saw Joey there, and this little toddler who was his brother but didn’t feel like he was, and the house so empty with Simon and Levi off getting high who knew where, he just felt like a stranger, like more than ever he just didn’t belong.
Reuben felt something wet on his cheeks. Tears flowed down his face without his even realizing it. He felt even more embarrassed and tired to swipe his face without Lindsay noticing.
But no doubt she’d caught him, and instead of prying or acting all concerned, she turned back to stare at the view, giving him space to regain his composure. He really appreciated that kindness and it made him wonder if she carried a heavy burden herself, if that’s why she had a need to climb. Maybe everyone who climbed did so to get distance from their lives.
After some time, she turned back to him, drew closer. “You okay?”
He nodded and she responded with a grin.
“What? Do I have snot on my face or something?”
She shook her head and her emerald eyes sparked. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
Reuben sucked in a breath. “A what?” Great. He could tell his face had just lit up like a red neon sign.
“You know—someone of the opposite sex you hang out with. Someone you feel . . . you know, close to.”
Reuben grinned. “I know what a girlfriend is.”
“I’m just asking.” She obviously knew the answer.
Maybe Reuben was wrong about her. She seemed to be toying with him now, and he responded the only way he knew to protect his heart—by kidding back. “Well, the position’s available. You looking to fill it?” He made sure his voice was light, uncaring.
Lindsay surprised him by the serious tone in her reply. “I just might be.”
Before Reuben could react, he heard grunts coming from the ledge and watched a tan hand reach over and grab the rope lying across the surface of rock. He thought that would be the end of that conversation, and he was glad, because he’d have to think long and hard about Lindsay’s answer to figure out what it meant.
He didn’t have to think for very long. She reached a hand around Reuben’s head and pulled him to her, then kissed him with an excruciatingly aching kiss that sucked the last drop of breath from his lungs and every word from his head. She blinked, smiled, then stood as the rest of their climbing team crested the summit of The Needles with shouts and exuberant high fives and joined Reuben and Lindsay on the ledge.
Reuben’s head spun with astonishment. Steve came over and slapped him on the shoulder. “Wow, this is incredible. Aren’t you blown away?”
Reuben glanced over at Lindsay and his heart soared high above the granite peaks, above the clouds, astonished his heart could scale higher peaks than the rest of his body.
“Yeah,” he answered. “Totally blown away.”
“You heard me. Pack your things; you’re out of here.”
Jake wished he could stop up his ears. Simon’s mouth spewed a string of filth and accusations and nasty names half of which Jake had never heard uttered before in his life.
“What do you think—I’m going to keep feeding and housing you, when you act like this?”
“Just shut up, Dad. I’m leaving. I should have left years ago.”
“Yeah—and gone where? Just because you’re angry at your mom doesn’t mean you get to take it out on the whole world.”
Simon snorted and kicked the couch. Jake had tried to console Simon when he returned from his surreptitious trip to Washington, that fateful encounter that, upon hearing what had happened, cut Jake deep. Not only because he knew what Simon must have felt, experiencing his mother’s rejection firsthand, but it brought fresh to his own mind that day Leah had left without a word, completely insensitive, cruel, heartless. Jake understood; he certainly did. But his compassion would only go so far. Simon had to understand hi
s behavior carried consequences. Other people suffered betrayal, rejection, hurt just as potent, but they worked through it, didn’t take it out on other people or their possessions.
Simon stormed into his bedroom and Jake could tell he was going through his things, no doubt tearing his room into a shambles. He wished he could let Simon stay, try another way of working things out, but Simon had not only dropped out of school, he’d torn up all of Joey’s books, then burned them—those books the only thing that seemed to keep Joey tethered to this world. Simon knew that, but it was his pointed retaliation for Joey telling on him, the way Joey always did, reporting to Jake every time one of his brothers was doing something they shouldn’t.
Since Rachel died, Joey’s obsession with righteous behavior had escalated. Joey had aimed to be pious and holy before, but now all his concentration was fixed on penitence and studying the Bible, praying long hours on his knees in the dark next to his bed in the late hours of the night. Jake knew Joey felt guilty over Rachel’s death. How many times had he assured his sweet son that there was nothing he could have done to save her, that he wasn’t at fault, no one was at fault, although Jake kept his true opinion to himself. Debating Joey’s faith only enraged his son, so Jake had let that subject drop like a hot stone. He only hoped Joey’s seriousness would lighten over time, that he’d become a boy again and find a way to enjoy his childhood. He was only seven; he had his whole life ahead of him but seemed to take the burden of the whole world’s sin on his shoulders, like it was his divine appointment to make everyone and everything perfect and he didn’t understand why he kept failing at his task.
He looked out the living room window at Joey, standing by the flower beds, next to the little rows of pansies Levi had planted in Rachel’s garden. Tiny, nothing flowers meant as an appeasement, and Jake had complimented him on the job, said they looked just fine and Rachel would be pleased to have flowers in her garden again. But Levi had only tightened his face, walked away, and Jake didn’t know how to call him back, tell him some other way he was sorry, had forgiven him.
