by Alex Flinn
“So we went to the mall, and all the way there, Tyler was quiet, and Nikki was sort of crying, and I didn’t know what to say, what to do. Part of me felt like I’d seen something I shouldn’t have, and if Tyler wanted to talk about it, he would have told me himself. It felt like spying. But another part said that Tyler was my best friend, and he was in trouble. I wanted to know how often this happened, though I sort of knew. That was why I wasn’t allowed to go over there. Part of me was angry at him for not telling me. I mean, he was my best friend.”
“It was probably hard for him to talk about it,” Rachel said. “He was embarrassed. At least, I think he might have been.”
“No, you’re right,” I said. “And, eventually, when I decided to break down and ask him, that’s exactly what happened. He got mad at me, for knowing, for spying on him. I said, ‘I wasn’t spying. I was just coming over your house like a normal person. I can’t help what I saw, man. I want to help.’ And Nikki took my side. She said she was glad I knew, that it was hard, not having anyone to talk to about it. She said she’d wanted to tell one of the counselors at school but their mom said not to. If they told the counselor, the counselor would have to tell the police or something. Then, they’d come and take them away.”
“‘Isn’t that a good reason to tell someone?’ I said, ‘So they’d come and get you some help, arrest that bastard?’
“Nikki looked at Tyler, and I could tell they’d had the same conversation before then. Tyler said, ‘My mom’s worried about us all getting separated, that they’d put me and Nikki in foster care. She says she’s going to leave Rick as soon as she can get enough money together to take us to live with my aunt Mel in Florida.’
“‘Do you believe her?’ I asked. Tyler’s mom didn’t even work anymore. She used to be a nurse before she’d married Rick, but then, she’d quit.
“‘Sure,’ Tyler said. ‘Why not? In any case, I don’t want to get separated from Nikki.’
“I told him they could move in with us, but Tyler shook his head. ‘I have to stick around to protect my mom.’”
Rachel was sitting, hands folded in her lap, staring at me, and I knew she understood. I said, “I know now there were things I could have done. If I’d told my mom, maybe she would have given them the money for the ticket to Florida. Or maybe the police would have arrested Rick, and then, it would have been over.”
“But you didn’t do that?” Rachel said.
Her voice didn’t sound judgmental. I shook my head. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“I wouldn’t have either.”
“I just figured—I don’t know what I figured, that it wasn’t my place. I knew Tyler would be mad at me if I told. Now, I realize he was too scared, they all were, too scared of what might happen. Sometimes, people are more comfortable with sticking with what they know, even if it’s bad, instead of taking a chance on something that would probably be better but might be worse.”
She nodded. “Like this tower. I’ve been here for years. Obviously, I could escape. I left when I saw you fall through the ice, when I needed to leave. But I’ve always thought that maybe, there’d be something really bad out there, or someone, someone who’d hurt me, kill me. Or maybe I’d just starve to death. Here, Mama feeds me every day, like a . . . pet. I have no idea what’s out there. So I stay.”
She stood then, and paced the room, perturbed. “We all like to think we’d do the right thing, the heroic thing if we had to. But usually, we don’t because that’s not the comfortable thing. The easy thing is to stay put in your comfortable tower, even if that tower is actually a prison.”
“But you saved my life.”
“Because I couldn’t just watch you die, drown in the icy lake. Sometimes, you have to act. It’s a matter of life and death.”
I felt my stomach drop. “It was a matter of life and death with Tyler. I just didn’t know it. I didn’t recognize it.”
“What do you mean?”
I shivered, remembering what had happened next.
“A week went by, then two, and nothing changed with Tyler. They didn’t move out. Their mom didn’t leave their stepdad, and I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want Tyler to be mad at me or whatever.” I shook my head. “Like that would be a big deal.”
It was hard to go on. I drew in a deep breath, and even though it was cold in the room, and my feet were wet, my face felt hot.
Rachel touched my hand. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head again. “No. No, I’m not, but I have to tell you anyway.”
She took my hand in hers. “Okay.”
I breathed in, then out. I could picture the scene, like it was frozen in time, my mom and I at the breakfast table, English muffins and I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter. I couldn’t see that table without remembering. It was a big part of the reason I’d left.
“We were eating breakfast. It was a Saturday. Tyler and I had played a big game the night before, and my muscles ached. Football. I was going to call him at nine, you know, to rehash it. But suddenly, there was this really loud noise.
“My mother and I looked at each other, and she was, like, ‘What was that?’ and I said, ‘I don’t know,’ but I did, and suddenly, I was screaming and running to the door, and my mother was pulling me back. She was saying, ‘Don’t go out there.’ She’d call 911—the emergency number. Then, there was another loud noise and a woman screaming. I could tell it was a woman, maybe Nikki or Tyler’s mom, and somehow, I knew Tyler was dead. I knew he was dead, and I was crying, screaming, yelling to my mom to call the police, and she did, but it was too late. It was too late. Then, the door to their house opened, and Tyler’s mom came running out. She was covered in blood, and I knew it was too late. But my mom was on the phone with the police, and I let Tyler’s mother in. I waited a second to see if anyone else was behind them, if Tyler . . . or Nikki . . .”
I stopped, unable to speak anymore. Tears were streaming out of my eyes, down my face and into my mouth. These tears didn’t heal anything at all. They were salty, and they hurt. I looked at Rachel, and she was all wavery like one of those weird paintings at MoMA, and I saw that she was crying too. She put her arms around me, her face against mine, her tears, her magical tears, blending with my own, and I didn’t know if it was the tears’ healing powers or just having her near me, but I felt a little bit better. A little bit.
We stood there a moment, clinging to one another, weeping. Finally, I said, “He killed them. She said she was leaving him, and he killed her kids. He killed Tyler and Nikki, and when the police sirens started coming, there was another shot, and he killed himself. And I knew all about it, but I did nothing.”
The room felt so cold, and I started to shiver, shiver uncontrollably, worse than the day I fell in the lake. Rachel held me tight. She said, “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. You couldn’t have seen it coming.”
“You don’t think so?”
“No. I didn’t see it coming, even when you told me. To believe that would happen, you would have to be so negative. You would have to think people are evil. You’re not like that.”
I shook my head. “In the days after that, I felt so many different things, sad, angry, guilty, but mostly just numb, like part of me was dead. But other times, I felt like I could just go over there, just go and change it, see Tyler and tell him to run, tell him to leave. A couple of times, I started out the door before I noticed the police tape, before I remembered the ambulances that had come for their bodies. And on the day of the funeral, I felt like if I just told someone, maybe I could fix it. I knew it wasn’t true, that nothing was going to bring Tyler back.
“Still, I felt so guilty. I told a friend, this girl in my class, Megan. I told her how guilty I felt, like I could have prevented it.”
“What did she say?” Rachel stroked my back.
“Nothing. She didn’t say anything at all.” I remembered her stony face, then her back as she turned away. “I’m sure she hated me.”
<
br /> “I bet she didn’t,” Rachel said. “That would be so unfair. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Of course it wasn’t. You couldn’t have predicted the future. No one else even knows what they would have done. Everyone thinks they’d do the heroic thing, but you never really know.” She pulled away from me, angry and fierce. “The person whose fault it was is dead. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I wish I could be sure.”
“You should be sure.” She stroked my hair. “You’re a hero. You came out here, all this way to find me. Who else would do that?”
“Lots of guys.”
“I haven’t seen any of them.” She walked to the window and opened it. “Helloooooo! Are you out there? Hellooooo?”
I laughed. “They must have fallen in the lake.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Okay, maybe not that many guys have the same kind of time on their hands as I do.” Though, in Slakkill, that probably wasn’t true.
“So you just came to rescue me because you had time on your hands?” She glanced out the window again. “Maybe I should look for those guys.”
“That didn’t come out right.”
“Try again, then.” She closed the window, looking at me the whole time. Then, she walked toward me and put her arms around me.
“You’re so incredible,” I said.
She kissed me, my cheeks, my eyes. I kissed her back, stroking her hair, her hair, and for a moment, holding her, I forgot.
She took my hand and led me to a little sofa in the corner, the type of sofa my grandfather would have called a settee. She placed her arms around my neck and pulled me down, down with her until I was on top of her, feeling her beneath me. I felt alive, alive for the first time since Tyler had died, not just pretending like with Astrid, just going through the motions. I felt that finally, there was something worth living for. She pulled me toward her, my mouth on her mouth, and I felt her heartbeat beneath me. I was alive.
“I think . . . I love you, Rachel. I know it’s too soon. I’ve only met you twice. But you saved my life . . . twice.” I really felt like she’d saved my life today too, like I’d been dead, but now, I wasn’t.
“I know,” she said. “I feel the same way. And you will save my life too. You will.”
“Let me save it,” I told her. “Please come with me.”
“Not now.” She kissed me again. “But soon. I love you. Soon.”
34
Wyatt
I wondered about the car, the one that had followed me—whether it would still be there when I returned to Mrs. Greenwood’s house. Probably not. Probably, it hadn’t been about Rachel at all. After all, I hadn’t told anyone about Rachel. In fact, I hadn’t told the guys at the Red Fox I was staying with Mrs. Greenwood. I’d given them Astrid’s name.
Astrid. I felt bad about not calling her. We’d only made out New Year’s Eve, which was practically required by law anyway. Still, I knew she’d really liked me. Or, at least, liked the fact that I was a guy she hadn’t known since kindergarten. I wasn’t usually the type of guy who led girls on, then ditched them. Of course, that could be because I’d never had a girlfriend at all before. Still, I should probably call Astrid, let her down easy, not be a jerk.
I was thinking about this as I passed Hemingway’s Hardware. I actually reached into my coat pocket for the phone, wondering how far I’d go before I lost reception.
It vibrated.
I fumbled in my pocket for it, my reflexes slowed by the very urgency of it. Finally, I picked it up.
“Were you, like, ever going to call me?”
It was her.
“Hey, I was just thinking of you.”
“Right.”
“Really. I was going to call you. I had my hand on the phone.” I slowed down, so I wouldn’t lose her. On one side of the road, up on a hill, was a monument company someone was running out of their home. The business announced itself with a pink, granite tombstone that said Fiske Cemetery Markers.
“I’m so sure,” she said. “You know, I’m not completely stupid. Or maybe I am because I thought you really liked me. Obviously, you were just using me.”
“That’s not true. I’ve just been really, really busy.”
“Forget it. Just stop having your creepy friends call my house. I’m not your answering service.”
“I wasn’t . . .” I was out of town now, and trees and abandoned buildings were the only things visible on either side of my car. “What creepy friends?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t know.” I sort of did. The guy at the Red Fox. I’d told him I was staying with Astrid’s family. Had he looked her up? I remembered her saying everyone knew everyone around here. Had the guy found her, and then, she’d told him I was staying with Mrs. Greenwood?
“I didn’t give anyone your number. Did you tell them where to look for me?”
“What? What?” The phone was breaking up. “Barely . . . didn’t . . .”
“What did you say?”
The call dropped.
Should I go back to where I had bars? No. She’d just yell at me. Besides, I was suddenly worried about Mrs. Greenwood. Why hadn’t I thought about it before? If the creepy guy was stalking me, maybe he’d break into the house, bother her, wait for me. I mean, sure he was an old guy, but she was an old lady. And, since I had taken her car, she couldn’t even leave. No, I had to get back to check on her. I knew firsthand the kind of sick shit people could do. I felt bad about Astrid, but she lived in town, with her family and people. Mrs. Greenwood was totally alone. Even her dog was dead.
I drove faster. I’d call Astrid too when I got back. I hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings. I just didn’t want to be her boyfriend.
When I reached the house, everything seemed normal. The driveway was cleared, as I had left it, but the front path, which I hadn’t shoveled, showed no footprints but mine. Mrs. Greenwood hadn’t gone out, and no one else had gone in. She’d obviously spent the day with William Shatner.
I exhaled. I wouldn’t have to add endangering a sweet old lady to my list of crimes.
I parked the car and went inside. “Mrs. G?”
Sure enough, I heard the weird singsong of the Star Trek theme. I’d been right about Shatner. I went into the living room.
“You know,” I said, “some channels show reruns of Boston Legal. He’s on that too.”
“Oh, hello, Wyatt.” She turned away from the commercial to look at me. “I like my William better young. How was skiing? You know, Danielle used to frequent a ski store that rented equipment by the month. It’s probably a lot cheaper than renting at the slopes.”
For a second, I forgot I’d allegedly gone skiing. Reminded, I said, “Yeah, Josh was telling me about that.”
I felt guilty about lying to her, especially when she asked, “Did you see anything interesting?” It was almost like she knew.
“Anything interesting? Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Birds, animals. You city types seem to find that kind of thing fascinating, no?”
She didn’t suspect. She was just making small talk. But maybe I should tell her anyway. She could help Rachel. Rachel could live with us—if I could talk Rachel into it. After all, Mrs. Greenwood had already taken me in.
But something held me back. Rachel had been adamant about not telling anyone.
I said, “Nothing really. Do you want me to get dinner? I make a pretty mean spaghetti with cut-up hot dogs.” I’d bought hot dogs on one of my trips into town.
“I have a chicken in the oven. It will be ready soon. Come watch Star Trek.”
But suddenly, I wanted to be alone for a while. The events of the day had been pretty amazing. Pretty weird. From being chased in the morning to falling in love in the afternoon to confessing everything about Tyler. I felt empty. I glanced at the screen. “I’ve seen this one. I think I’ll go upstairs and chang
e. My socks got wet.”
She nodded, not taking her eyes off Captain Kirk. “Okay, about six o’clock, all right?”
I glanced at my watch. The episode would end at six. I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see me. “Okay, I’ll be back.”
I trudged to the stairs and started up. The house was already dark, so I flipped the switch to turn on the stairway light. As I walked up, I noticed the photos, as I had the first day I was there. The woman in the wedding dress, I now knew, was Mrs. Greenwood. Like her daughter, she had been beautiful once. The photos reminded me of something, I wasn’t sure what.
Then, I remembered.
I could still hear Star Trek in the background. I had close to an hour when she’d be concentrating only on that.
Instead of turning into my own room, I looked behind me. Nothing. I touched the doorknob on my left. No one sprung out at me. With one more glance over my shoulder, one last listen for footsteps, I turned the knob. I stepped inside. I closed Danielle’s door behind me.
Danielle’s room looked the same as that first night. No broken glass on the floor. I hadn’t expected it. The broken window had been a dream, a figment of my imagination.
And yet, I expected the room to look somehow different. I expected it to be different now that I knew Danielle was dead.
