Ask Me (10 page)

“Aren’t you coming in?” he asked. He wanted to celebrate his track winnings and had insisted I come along. But sitting there looking at the restaurant, I knew I couldn’t join him. The last time I’d been here, I wound up telling some poor woman that her husband thought she was a fat cow. The resulting scene hadn’t been pretty.

“I can’t,” I answered. See, even my inner oracle agreed with me.

“Aria,” began Gran, “Are you—”

“It’s okay,” I said. “You guys go without me. I’ll come next time, I promise.” If next time was after my curse had ended and I could avoid ruining anyone’s dinner. “Besides, I’d really like to relax at home. With everything going on
at school …” I trailed off and did my best to look pitiful. It wasn’t hard. The last few days had taken their toll on me.

“Of course,” said Granddad, giving Gran a look. “But Aria, you be careful driving home, okay?”

I LEFT AND DROVE
aimlessly around Lake Mariah, not yet willing to go home to our empty house, but not daring to stop anywhere there were people. I finally turned in the direction of the lake and parked my car in the gravel lot at Three Oaks. The lake was usually a popular meeting spot, especially for kids my age, but everyone usually stayed near the dock and beach area. It was supposed to close when it got dark, but no one ever paid any attention to the posted signs. The local police had given up long ago and now just drove by once or twice a night to knock on steamed-up car windows if they found any. They didn’t have to bother tonight. I only saw one vehicle, a Chevy Suburban, on the far side of the lot, and it looked empty. Jade’s murder was likely keeping everyone inside. A few people were off drowning their sorrows at the party I’d heard Tank was having tonight. He was calling it a wake for Jade, but that was only an excuse to get wasted.

If Granddad knew this was where I’d gone, he’d probably be mad. But I needed to get away and the woods were my favorite escape.

I walked down one of the paths that flirted with both the edge of the lake and the forest surrounding it. It was getting dark, but I always kept a flashlight in my car for times like these. Even when everything was quiet, the forest still murmured: little furry things rustling through
fallen leaves, the wind in the branches, every now and then a deer leaping away in confusion. All those little noises made me feel less alone, like I was a part of something in some way. Something I couldn’t hurt or ruin.

I walked gently, taking care not to disturb anything. When I was younger, I had practiced my “Indian” walk; balancing lightly on the balls of my feet and rolling into a step rather than just setting my feet down. After years spent walking in the woods by myself, I was as close to silent as you could get. Of course, the woods here were different than ones I had grown up in. Very few pine needles, for starters. The feeling was the same, though.

The deeper I went, the darker the woods became. I finally switched on my flashlight when I stepped on a twig, and the sharp snap sent a sleepy bird to chirping. I was almost to my favorite spot on the lake, the place where the trail dipped back to the shore halfway around from the beach area. There was a tree there that had grown crooked. Over the years it had formed itself into a knobby bench where you could sit and watch the lake but be far enough away to keep anonymous if there were any beachgoers. I turned the final corner before my tree. I had my flashlight pointed at the ground so I wouldn’t trip over the big cypress root I knew was lying in wait in the middle of the path. It had gotten me more than once.

“Who’s there?” a voice called.

I brought my flashlight up to shine on the tree, managing to stub my toe on the root at the same time after all. It was Alex, possibly the last person I had expected
to see. The light illuminated him in a hazy glow. He blinked against it. I caught myself against another tree, and I juggled the flashlight in suddenly clumsy hands. If it weren’t for my problem, I might not have managed a reply at all. But I said,
“La voce della verità.”
Whatever that meant. I cleared my throat and spoke louder. “It’s Aria. Just Aria.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “You’re not following me, are you?”

I couldn’t tell for sure, but he sounded more bemused than annoyed. “Looking for peace,” I responded, relieved the truth didn’t sound too stupid. “I don’t follow anyone.” I got the flashlight under control and righted myself, pointing the light in his direction again. He squinted, not bothering to hold up a hand to block the light from his eyes. I lowered the beam.

It was my turn to ask a question. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Just … remembering.”

I heard a
clink
as he shifted on the tree and allowed the flashlight beam to drift lower. He was grasping the neck of a nearly empty bottle of vodka. He shifted, trying to hide it behind his back, but almost dropped it instead.

Oh
, I thought.

“I’m sorry. I guess I should leave you to it.” The beam of light wobbled.

“Whatever,” he said, looking away.

I hesitated. He wasn’t asking me to stay, but he hadn’t told me to go. I took a step closer to him. He shrugged and took a swig from the bottle, swaying slightly. I kept going.
What was I doing? I sat down near his feet, not willing to sit next to him on the tree. It was comfortable for one but far too close for two. I set the flashlight on its base so it was pointing towards the sky, a makeshift searchlight towards the emptiness.

He laughed softly, bitterly. “What, do you think I’m going to bite you?”

“What long teeth you have,” I said, grateful for the darkness. I kept saying the strangest things, even by my abnormal standards. If I didn’t know better, I’d think my “gift” was out to get me. Maybe it was.

“The better to eat you with,” he said and slipped down unsteadily from the tree to sit next to me. “Don’t worry, I don’t actually bite. And look, now we’re on even ground.”

I doubted that would ever be true.

For a few peaceful moments, the only sounds I could hear were the croaks of frogs and the gurgling bellow of a nearby bull alligator. There was no other noise quite like it. I shivered a little despite the warmth of the Florida night and Alex’s closeness. Primeval was the only word to describe the sound. Even after all these years of living out here, it made my heart race a little.

“What was it you said when you first got here?” asked Alex. “I didn’t quite catch it.” His words slurred at the end, turning the last two words into one.

I was hoping he hadn’t noticed that.
“La voix de la vérité,”
I answered. Wait,
was
that what I’d said before? It didn’t sound the same.

“What?”

“Ağizin gerçeğini konuşuyor.”

What was with all the languages? The first time had sounded a bit like Spanish, which I’d taken in school, though I was completely awful at it. Maybe it had been Italian? Then French? But I had no idea what this one was.

Alex tried to whistle but gave up to take another quick drink from the bottle instead. “How many languages do you know?”

“One,” I said.

He laughed again. At least someone thought I was amusing, even if that someone was obviously drunk out of his mind. “You are one strange girl, Aria.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” I said. Close up he smelled of alcohol and some kind of musky body spray. Or maybe it was just him.

“But then, I’m strange, too. We’re the same, you and me. Just the same.”

“Oh?” I said.

I’d heard there were a few different types of drunks. He was obviously the maudlin kind. At least he wasn’t angry or violent or amorously inclined. Sad and introspective I could deal with. He held up a single finger on the hand that wasn’t clutching the bottle. “No one wants us,” he said. He added another finger to the first. “We’re both on the outside, looking in.”

“You’re not,” I said, surprised. “Or you weren’t anyway.” Before Jade.

He grunted or maybe he laughed. It was hard to tell. He simply held up another finger to make three. “We want to get out of this shithole town.”

“And go where?” I had nowhere else to go. At least, not
until my curse was gone. Here was bad, but there wasn’t anywhere that would be any better, not for me.

He ignored what I’d said and stretched all his fingers out. Five now. He’d skipped four. “And we’re both alone,” he said.

I shook my head. “I have my grandparents. And you have your dad.” I wanted to say that he’d had Jade, too, but that would have been rubbing salt in the wound. Was it really better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?
Had
he loved Jade?

“Right,” he said. “My dad.” His voice was flat and dead. “I suppose I ought to drink to that.” He raised the bottle, but I grabbed it before he could get it to his mouth and took it away.

“Have a sip,” he said with a crooked smile. “Be my guest.”

“No, thanks. I don’t think you need any more either.”

“Probably not,” he slurred. He slumped down against the tree, using it and me to prop himself up. “It’s my dear old dad’s, you know. Stole it from him.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guessed that.”

He picked up my flashlight and shone it directly on the bottle. For a second it was like a prism of fireworks going off in my eyes, then the beam wavered off to the side as his hand shook. “Never touched it before. Never had a drop. Can you believe it?”

“I am a believer,” I said.

“Tastes like shit. Burns.” He dropped the flashlight and leaned forward, groaning.

I poured the rest of the bottle out into the waiting ground like an offering and set it down off to the side. I
patted him gingerly on the back. He felt even more solid in person than I had imagined. Not that I had ever imagined touching him, exactly. Never in my wildest dreams, actually, would I have predicted this situation.

“So why are you drinking it?”

He sat up and turned to face me, misjudging the distance so that his face was only inches from mine. “It’s all my fault,” he said. “Me. My fault.” He leaned forward even more until his forehead was touching mine. He brought his hands up to my face, one on either side. His hands were so big they covered the sides of my face.

“What’s your fault?”

“Jade,” he whispered. One word, sad and lonely, swallowed by another roar from the bull gator.

I jumped, knocking the empty bottle over. It rattled a warning against the roots of the tree.

“You should run away from me, too.” He let go and drooped back against the tree, deflated. “Run,” he repeated again, softly this time, but that only made it sound more menacing.

My heart was pounding. I wasn’t sure if it was his words or his closeness or even the bass call of the alligator still rumbling inside of me. I scrambled to my feet, grabbed the flashlight, and took a few steps and then stopped. How could I leave him like this? How could I not? Had he just admitted to killing Jade? It was impossible to tell. If he really did kill her, there would be nothing to stop him from killing me. Nothing. And no one would mourn, other than Gran and Granddad. No one else would even notice. He was right. I was alone and unwanted.

“Alex,” I said, too quietly and then louder, “Alex!” I pointed the flashlight right at this face.

His head lolled around, and he blinked at me, his eyes glassy. Why was I doing this? “Thought you were going to leave me, too,” he said, his words even more slurred now.

“Ask me what I should do,” I said.

“What should I do?” he asked, sounding forlorn and lost. And very drunk.

“Trust me,” I answered. I sighed. I needed to know whether I could trust
him
, not the other way around. “No, Alex, ask
me
what
I
should do.”

“What should you do?” he managed to get out before his head dropped back down to his chest.

“Always do what is right,” I said. I closed my eyes in frustration for a moment, but it had been a stupid idea anyway. It never worked, like when I’d lost my keys and asked Gran to ask me where they were. It was like my “gift” knew and wanted to mess with me. “Where I left them,” though, was slightly more helpful in that situation than what I was getting in the one tonight.

“Okay,” I finally said, more to myself than to him. “Let’s get you home.” I bent down and managed to get one of his arms around my shoulders. He came to his senses enough to help me get him standing. We stumbled down the trail. Maybe I was wrong, but it felt right.

I dreamt of oak leaves blowing in the wind, making patterns as they drifted in the air. Just as they were about to form a picture, a new gust of wind would blow through and rearrange everything. I woke up feeling unsettled, as if right on the edge of discovering some ancient truth.

It was a reoccurring dream of mine, though it meant nothing to me and had never left me with any earth-shattering revelations. At least it was a peaceful dream. Sometimes my sleep was broken by nightmares of smoke and ashes, and I would awaken with the taste of soot in my mouth. Gran said the dreams would go away, too, someday. She’d had them herself.

I lay in my bed staring at the watermark on the ceiling while I tried to will myself to get up. It reminded me of a serpent snaking its way across my room, watchful and staring. I shifted, and my back ached. Alex had been beyond heavy. It had probably only taken twenty or thirty
minutes to get him to my car the night before, but it had felt like hours. I had left his truck at Three Oaks. From his condition when I left him on his porch, I wondered if he would wake up wondering how he even made it home.