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Apathetic God

Page 20

by Ian Withrow


  As soon as the door shut behind her she pulled out her phone and opened a text message. She typed furiously as she made her way back to her desk, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds.

  Presley, he says you have 3 days - he’s talking about D.C. Be careful.

  Her alert sent, she set about preparing to tell the world that God was angry.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lauren rubbed her tired eyes and watched the windows of the room slowly brighten with the coming dawn. Allison was still asleep, and Lauren had a massive pile of paper beside her recliner. No, not just paper, she corrected herself. This was a pile of dreams, of hopes, and of prayers. Hundreds and thousands of handwritten notes addressed to her, desperate pleas to an angel that Lauren had never been, could never be.

  When had it started? It was impossible to tell. But with every new letter she read the ice in her heart thawed and was replaced by crushing, overwhelming guilt. The earliest letters she’d found, buried beneath layers and layers of newer notes, seemed to date from around when she had first rescued her father, and returned to the public eye.

  With the unrelenting storm it was hard to tell how new the outer layer was, but some at least seemed to reference her fall in Chicago. The prayers turned from self-interest to hopes for Lauren. She found fewer requests, fewer desires, and a dramatic increase in well-wishes and prayers for her recovery.

  Lauren’s eyes burned, but she forced herself to keep reading. She dug listlessly through the newest stack of letters that she’d plucked from outside. One in particular caught her eyes.

  It was a thick envelope wrapped carefully with clear plastic wrap. The thoughtful packaging meant it had been spared the worst of the weather. Lauren flipped the envelope over and the name, written in a child’s cursive, brought a flood of warmth to her heart.

  To - Lauren Corvidae

  From - The Helmholts

  Lauren extracted the letter with trembling fingers and popped the top of the envelope open. It was thick, a whole packet of papers from the feel of it. The thin, glue-sealed barrier yielded easily to her strong fingers and a sheaf of paper greeted her. She pulled the stack out and a number of photographs slipped out as well, tumbling to the floor in front of her.

  Miss Lauren,

  We saw you on the news. Daddy and Mommy said that you got hurt real bad, but that you’ll be ok if we have faith. Daddy got hurt too when he was younger. Mommy says he broke his back like you, and that it took a long long time to get better.

  Abby said that we should go see you in the city, but Daddy said that it is not a safe place for kids like us and that you need your rest. We really miss you, and we-

  Lauren had to stop. She needed a break from her shame. Folding the letter carefully, she bent at the waist and picked up the photographs scattered on the floor.

  A half-dozen pictures greeted her eyes. The first was an awkward but charming family christmas card, the Helmholts were all gathered in front of their family barn in red, white, and green smiling cheesily at the camera. Lauren flipped the card over and read the back.

  Merry Christmas from the Helmholts, we hope this card finds you on the mend, and we want you to know your present will stay wrapped safe until you’re back this way again.

  She flipped through the rest of the stack, school photos of the boys, Abby in an elegant red homecoming dress, and even a smiling snapshot of Charlie and Jennifer.

  Lauren drew a shaky breath and stuffed the photographs back into the envelope, retrieving the letter once more. She’d just started to scan it, looking for where she’d left off when a snuffling, half-snort caught her attention.

  Allison was stirring on the couch. Wiping dried drool from her cheek she lifted herself groggily up on her elbows. Allison’s dark hair was streaked with grey now. Her face had more lines than Lauren remembered, and the dark circles under her eyes were baggy and pronounced. It was… strange. Lauren saw a woman so much older, so much more worn than the image she held in her mind.

  “L’ren?”

  Allison’s speech was still slurred, though from drunkenness, tiredness, or some combination Lauren wasn’t sure.

  “Good morning, Allison.”

  Freshly filled with guilt from reading her letter, Lauren tried to keep the acid out of her voice. She succeeded, mostly.

  Allison sat up, rubbed her eyes hard, and then put her hands in her lap awkwardly as the silence in the room stretched uncomfortably.

  Lauren cleared her throat, unsure of what to say but, in a perverse way, enjoying the obvious discomfort of her mother.

  “S-so you found the letters then?”

  Allison gestured to the pile of papers at Lauren’s feet.

  Lauren answered with a nod.

  “The people around here have been real uh, real nice to me… mostly. They bring me food sometimes and uh, make sure I have… water.”

  Lauren looked meaningfully at the piles of cans and bottles strewn about the edges of the room.

  “Right. Water.”

  Lauren tried, she really did, but her phony patience was already wearing thin. She could feel the darkness inside goading her, pushing her buttons and getting her riled up.

  Had it always been this hard to resist?

  She stood and headed for the door but Allison stood as well and moved to stop her.

  “Please! Please... don’t go.”

  Allison dropped to her knees and grabbed at Lauren’s clothing pitifully. Lauren felt her muscles tense, knew that she could break this wicked woman with a flick of her wrist.

  Knew that she deserved it.

  “Why?”

  Allison’s eyes widened at the question, a response that fanned the flames of Lauren’s anger. Lauren grabbed the front of her mother’s shirt with both hands and hoisted her up in the air until they were face to face.

  “Why!”

  She was screaming now, and Allison’s eyes were full of terror. Lauren shook her roughly, fabric tearing and her mother’s limbs flailing painfully around. Familiar darkness pumped itself into her veins and she watched her veins brighten into liquid silver. Lauren struggled to overcome her rage, to hold back the urge to destroy. It was almost painful, the act of opening her hands and dropping Allison in a heap on the floor, but she managed it with gritted teeth and eyes screwed shut.

  Allison was hiccuping in terror, her whole body shaking uncontrollably.

  “Lauren, I… there’s nothing I can say to make up for the things I’ve put you through.”

  Lauren scoffed and headed for the door again.

  “Lauren I’m trying, please it’s all I know how to do is try. Hate me if you want, I understand. I deserve your hate, but… you’re all I have left.”

  One hand on the door, Lauren turned back to look at her kneeling mother. Allison’s arms hung at her sides and her face was streaked with tears.

  “I’ve destroyed everything I’ve ever loved. I-”

  She choked on her words and cast her eyes downward.

  Lauren hated herself for it, but she knew the pain her mother felt. It was the same crushing guilt and shame that haunted her every night. The silent dread, the creeping fear that everything she would ever care about was doomed to ashes.

  “Why did you leave?”

  Allison didn’t have to ask what her daughter meant, Lauren could see in her eyes that she understood they were talking about Gabriel.

  “I’m not, I’m not healthy Lauren. I’m sick, I’ve got-”

  “You’re a drunk.”

  Lauren’s blunt word struck Allison like a slap in the face.

  “Yes, I am a drunk. I’m an alcoholic and I’ve let my poor choices ruin my life. I left because I murdered my own son, my beautiful little baby boy. I put these bottles to his head and pulled the trigger before he was ever born.”

  She gestured widely at the trash littering the house.

  “I couldn’t stay. I couldn't stay in this house where I’d never hear him laughing again. I couldn't look at my husband, at my
daughter, knowing I’d killed my son. My Gabriel. How could I ask your forgiveness when I couldn't forgive myself? When I knew I didn’t deserve it?”

  Lauren blinked back her own tears and shook her head. She refused to feel sorry for the monster facing her. She focused on Gabriel, on her father, on the pain Allison had caused. No one deserved a second chance after that.

  “I’m not going to forgive you. Ever.”

  Allison didn’t even flinch.

  “I don’t think you should.”

  Lauren was uncertain how to proceed. A war raged inside her. A fight between the desperate longing she had for her mother’s love and the all-consuming darkness that armored her heart. Ultimately it was her hunger that tamed the beast, the hunger she felt for love that wasn’t stolen from the memories of another.

  “I needed you. I needed you and you just, left. You were supposed to be my mom, my constant guiding light. I could have forgiven your drinking, I could have forgiven anything else. But you abandoned me, abandoned us, when we needed you most.”

  Allison didn’t break eye contact, didn’t even flinch under the weight of Lauren’s accusation. Something about her stoic, unwavering gaze impressed Lauren more than she cared to admit.

  “Lauren I know I hurt you. I’m responsible for terrible, terrible things. I’ve been making mistakes with you since before you were ever born. John, he was better than I deserved. He knew the truth and he stayed. He stayed through it all when any reasonable man would have left in a heartbeat. I gave him a thousand reasons to leave, just like I gave you a thousand reasons to despise me.”

  Lauren let her speak.

  “I’d like to tell you some things. Some of what happened that you don’t know about. I don’t expect it will change anything, but I… feel like you have a right to know.”

  Lauren wrestled with herself a moment longer, then returned to the recliner. Allison clasped her hands in front of her face, unable to do more than cry happy tears for several moments. Finally Allison took a ragged breath and began to speak.

  “God I don’t know where to start really. Your father and I were college sweethearts, but then you already know that part. What you don’t know is that while we were at college John and I had a very dear friend, James Dustin.”

  The wind rushed out of Lauren’s lungs. Hearing his name pierced her heart like an ice cold blade. Allison could see the pain in her face and paused her story briefly.

  “I’m sor-”

  Lauren held a hand up for silence, her eyes shut in concentration. She could feel the armrest of the chair creak and crack under her other hand, heard it snap as the death grip she held upon it tightened. Lauren swallowed the lump in her throat, unable to speak around it.

  “Don’t say his name.”

  “Lauren….”

  “I said don’t say it!”

  The arm of the recliner snapped off with a loud crack and Allison flinched. She looked at her daughter in fear. Lauren’s heart fluttered. How many times these past few days had she hungered for that look?

  Silence loomed in the room as Lauren forced herself to breath slowly, deliberately, pushing through the aggression and trying to recapture some measure of peace. She fought back tears, buried them behind walls of iron.

  “I’m… sorry.”

  If Allison had been surprised by Lauren’s ferocity, she was even more startled by her forced, even tone. She sat awkwardly, seemingly waiting for permission to continue, and fidgeted with her hands in her lap.

  “Please, um, go on.”

  Allison cleared her throat softly, casting a nervous glance up at Lauren’s face.

  “Well, John, J-James and I went to highschool together, but for college we went our separate ways. John and I went off to Knox together of course, but Jim headed up to Western. He always knew what he wanted, he was studying Law Enforcement from the get-go while John and I wavered back and forth in our little liberal arts bubble.”

  Her tone was wistful, and her stare grew distant.

  “It was Thanksgiving, the year before you were born. We were up in the city and John and I had a huge fight, I… I stormed out but honestly I had nowhere to go. I didn’t even have my own car up there, Jim drove all the way out to pick me up and took me back to his dorm.”

  It was Lauren’s turn to shift uncomfortably.

  “Nothing happened, he was a perfect gentleman.”

  Allison’s tone suggested there was more to be said, but she seemed to calculate her next words more carefully before continuing.

  “He had every opportunity of course. I was half-drunk, frustrated with my fiance, and absolutely willing. But, he turned me down. He said there was no way he could ever do that to John but swore he’d never speak a word of it.”

  Allison clenched her fist with conviction, living the memories as she recounted them.

  “His rejection was my downfall. I couldn’t get it out of my head, the need to have him. It occupied my every waking moment. All I could think about was what I had been denied, and my desire was uncontrollable. It took weeks, months of whittling away at his resolve, but finally I got my opportunity. John was… he was out meeting with caterers or getting his tux sized or… something. I should remember that part but... well, obviously he deserved better.”

  At last Allison began to show some small hints of remorse, her tone saddened and her cheeks burned red.

  “I told him I didn’t feel well, asked Jim if he would come look after me while John was out. He didn’t have a chance, I was waiting for him like a hunter. I used to be so beautiful, and I knew his weakness for lace and lavender. When we were done I remember he cried, told me he could never forgive himself. That he had to come clean. I begged him not to say anything, suddenly afraid that I had wasted my opportunity to be with the one man who trusted and loved me above all others. I was convinced that John would leave me, call off the wedding. But it was so much worse than that.”

  She was crying now, and seemingly incapable of meeting Lauren’s accusing eyes.

  “He was crushed, but refused to blame me. It destroyed the boys’ friendship, shattered it into a million pieces. John couldn't accept that it had been my idea, my plan, that James hadn’t stood a chance. Jim had John by a foot, and at least forty pounds, but John, bless his heart, he was bound and determined to have a fist fight.”

  It was hard for Lauren to imagine her father, a diminutive, mousy fellow, squaring up against the mass of muscle and experience that she remembered of her former guardian. The two women shared a smile at the thought before Allison continued her tale.

  “Anyway, we found out I was pregnant three weeks later, and we were married inside of two months. Then, well, then you came along at the end of the summer and he just dropped it. He made me swear never to tell you, and from the moment you were born you were his daughter in every possible way save for blood. God he loved you so much. You were the only thing that made him truly happy, if he could make you smile he would move mountains.”

  The estranged women talked for hours. As the morning lengthened it was almost, almost like they were family again, or at least once-close friends. In the hours they spent talking, Lauren learned things about her father she would have never dreamed of, and things about her mother she could scarcely have imagined. By noon they had discussed the misadventure of driving to the hospital on the day Lauren was born; how Allison and John’s wild, passionate college-fling-turned-rocky-marriage began; and a dozen other stories ranging from the comedic to the tragic.

  It was after the laugh-filled recounting of a botched date that Lauren first noticed Allison’s hands were shaking. Shaking quite badly, actually. Lauren almost commented on it, second guessed herself, then decided to go for it.

  “When did that start.”

  It was less a question, more a statement.

  “I uh, well it’s difficult to say. We both drank in school, of course, everyone did. John was always a lightweight, but I always had a sort of.. pride? I guess? In how much I could drink. But
it never seemed like a problem, never seemed like it was out of my control until the big falling out between Jim and John. I want you to know, I need you to know that I wasn’t always this way.”

  Allison had a determined look on her face. Hard, desperate eyes set against scarlet, shame-filled cheeks.

  “I was a good mom while I was pregnant with you. I gave up smoking cold turkey, didn’t touch a drop of alcohol the whole nine months. I ran every day, I ate so much goddamn kale I thought I was turning into a cow.”

  She was crying again, but she never took her eyes off of Lauren’s.

  “You were going to be my redemption. My chance to prove I was a good person, my penitence for breaking the heart of a good man. I knew from that first day, when I saw that little plus sign, that I could save our marriage. John was over the moon, he didn’t care that you weren’t his biological child, only that you were his precious unborn daughter. I finally had something to give him, something that would make up for my betrayal.”

  Lauren’s cold, armored heart stirred faintly at her mother’s passion.

  “But then you were born with your um… gift. John and I never had a chance to decide for ourselves what we wanted to do. The story broke in less than a day and our lives, and my hopes for a normal family, went up in smoke immediately. John was uncomfortable with it from the start, he warned me that it wasn’t going to be good for you, for us, but I insisted that we share you with the world. I’ve never regretted anything more. For a few years it was great. A gilded life of luxury. But it was fool’s gold. John was right. People began to want more. The ivory tower we thought we were living in started to crumble, and I crumbled with it. By the time I could admit I had a problem I was too far gone to turn back, too terrified that I wouldn't be strong enough to fight it. So I didn’t even try.”

  Lauren dug deep, trying to force herself to feel sympathy for her mother. But she came up short. Allison’s addiction brought up her own uncomfortable guilt, which was converted into kindling for her temper within the dark forge of her soul.

 

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