Hurt: A Novel (Solitary Tales Series) (21 page)

72. Weird and Surprising

The next day I go to the high school to practice at the track.

It’s not like I’m so dedicated. I’m just bored. And I figure if I keep in shape, then when I get back to school the practices won’t be as hard. They’ll still be bad, because Coach Brinks will want to work off the flab and the laziness from spring break.

As I pull back into the driveway on my bike, I see Dad’s SUV.

Something’s gone bad.

I fly up the steps to the deck and fling the door open.

Dad and Mom are sitting in the family room on the couches.

I’m out of breath. “What’s wrong?”

“Hi, Chris.”

Dad smiles, and Mom doesn’t look dead.

Okay, I guess that’s a good sign.

“Everything is fine,” Mom tells me.

“How was the workout?” Dad asks.

“Good,” I say.

“I didn’t tell you I was coming because I wasn’t sure until the last minute whether I’d be able to. I wanted to surprise you.”

I nod and sigh. “Yeah. You surprised me.”

AKA freaked me out.

“I’m like you—no classes this week,” he says. “Go clean up. We’re going out for dinner.”

“Okay.”

I think of my prayer yesterday and wonder if this is the answer. A year ago I wouldn’t have seen it that way. But I do now.

A lot can change in a year. Around you.

And inside your heart.

Dad looks different.

Then again, so does Mom.

I don’t pick this up at first. Or when we sit down at the table at the Olive Garden. Or when we order drinks.

But then I seem to notice it.

Those lines on my father’s forehead and the scowl that seemed to always be there aren’t as noticeable. In fact, he smiles a lot.

And Mom doesn’t look as hard anymore. Sure, not drinking every night and slogging through the day probably helps a person look a little healthier. But it’s more than that. She’s got makeup on, and she looks younger, brighter.

She’s smiling a lot too.

This is an answer to prayer that I could not have dreamed of. Both my parents sitting at the table looking like—well, looking like friends.

Am I dreaming?

Soon enough Dad seems to get that I’m watching both of them with curiosity and questions.

“Chris, I wanted to be here—both of us wanted me to be here—to tell you something.”

The last time Dad said something like this was when they told me they were getting a divorce. I saw that coming miles away.

I don’t see this one coming.

“Your father and I have been talking a lot lately,” Mom says.

That’s news to me.

Then both of them start to say something, and then they both pause and look at each other in a weird way as if …

What is going on?

I blush because I feel utterly out of my body sitting here. I’m not used to them looking at each other unless they are glaring. Even years ago, when I was a kid, it was never like this. Not like this scene in front of me.

Who drugged my parents, and where can I find their supplier to get what they have?

“Go ahead,” Mom tells Dad.

“We want to let you know—and I know this is going to surprise you—that we’re trying to work things out.”

A server comes to bring us breadsticks and salad. I want to just start stuffing my face to get away from the awkward feeling I have in my gut.

“I know I told you we would be going back to Chicago,” Mom says. “We’re going to be staying with your father.”

I look at Mom, then at Dad. I’m not sure whether I should be angry or happy or confused. I mean, this was what I wanted once, until I decided it was exactly what I
didn’t
want. Until—

“Okay,” I say.

I know they’re probably thinking and expecting more. But I don’t know what to say.

Did You really do this, God?

Mom clears her throat. “Some of the feelings I’ve had, Chris—well, we’re working through those. And we can’t—we’re not going to promise anything. But it’s a start.”

I want to laugh.

There was a time in my life when I wanted so badly to hear this. When my parents were still together but not really together. When they were married but not really living in any kind of marriage.

Then it changed when Dad found faith and Mom found anger. I took the side of Mom and her anger and moved away to Solitary.

Little did I know I’d go back home and find faith.

I know they both want to ask what I’m thinking and feeling. But I can’t tell them that I halfway doubt I’ll see the summer. I can’t share with them that I’m a bit happy and a bit sad but mostly I’m totally terrified. They’re back together or at least trying to be, but I won’t be around to see it happen.

“That’s cool,” I say.

It is cool. It’s just—unexpected.

Nothing in the last year and a half has been expected, has it?

“I knew you were on break, too,” Dad says. “I figured I could come down and stay a couple of days. Is that—cool with you?”

I laugh. Dad is trying. I appreciate that.

“Yeah.”

We focus on eating, and there’s no more weird, surprising talk. Yet as we eat, I realize I’m not the only person who seems to be surprised here. Both Mom and Dad seem quieter than usual, more hesitant to say something, more—

Acting more like a couple teenagers might.

It’s kind of amusing. At least for now. I just hope this doesn’t last for long.

They’re still my parents. And the last thing I want is to see them suddenly making out.

No thanks.

73. Prayers

I have to get it out there. I don’t want to make a big deal, but I know I have to tell him.

He’s going to be leaving pretty soon. The last couple of days have been good. Strange but good. Okay—really, really strange, but also pretty good.

And I just know I need to tell him.

It goes something like this.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Yeah?” He’s reading
USA Today
like he always did at home. But this time he moves the paper away so I have his full attention.

Mom’s gone grocery shopping but will be coming back before he leaves. That’s another reason why now’s the right time.

“I just wanted to let you know something.”

But I’m not sure how to let you know. It seems private and personal and nobody else’s business.

But it’s Dad’s business because it’s partly due to Dad.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I just—the stuff about you and being a Christian and all that. I’m—I mean it’s okay. It’s all right now.”

He looks puzzled and smiles and nods. I’m babbling, and I know it.

“No, what I want to say is that I—that I believe. That I’m—things have changed. Between God and me. For the better.”

Dad’s face changes. He looks glad. Surprised but glad.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he says.

I nod and shrug, and now I want to just get away. I could say more, but I don’t really know what to say. I don’t know how to say it because I’m not sure what to do and how to do it and how this whole thing—

“Chris?”

“Yeah.”

“Just keep praying, asking for God’s guidance. When I suddenly opened my eyes and saw the world in a whole new light, it was overwhelming. But don’t let it be too overwhelming. Be happy. Be thankful. Know that there’s more to this world than just the here and now. There’s more than just this life.”

“I think I tell myself that everyday. Mostly because I hate Solitary.”

Dad laughs. He doesn’t realize I’m serious. “Prayer works, Chris. I know. I’ve been praying for you guys ever since you left. I’ve been praying that God will bring both of you to Him. And back to me.”

He doesn’t finish by saying it’s happened and that we’re going to drive off into the sunset and live happily ever after. Even Dad knows better than to say that.

But I don’t need him to say any more.

Dad prayed, and God heard those prayers.

Somehow, God brought Mom and me closer to Him.

Maybe not in the way I would have chosen, but it happened.

74. Freeze

Maybe it would be good to freeze this moment in time.

The second week in March. A bright and warm morning where the birds wake up singing and somehow ignoring the fact that they’re stuck in Solitary. A fun and relaxing ride to school on Uncle Robert’s motorcycle. Seeing Kelsey for the first time since before spring break, noticing that she looks more beautiful than she did when she left as I hug her and then feel her give me a kiss on the cheek.

The classes seem lighter and quicker.

The food in the cafeteria seems to taste better.

The blue in Kelsey’s eyes seems brighter.

Harris’s stories seem funnier.

Even Newt seems taller.

I share the news about my parents with Kelsey. And doing this makes me realize that it really has had a big impact on me. Things seem to be better. My life seems to have a future. A better one.

All of this is wonderful.

All of this is temporary, because April is going to morph into May, and the joy is going to morph into some newfound pain.

The open skies are going to cloud up and start pouring down hurt and anguish into my life.

That’s what the voice deep, deep down says.

That’s why I drown it out with Kelsey and school and the wind and the skies and everything around me.

Chrissssssss.

The voice is always there. The memories and the beating heart of fear.

Chrisssssss.

I want to lock this day down and never move on. Or fast forward to September or December.

Maybe you’ll never see them.

This is the voice of fear, the voice of something evil, the voice of something empty.

Maybe this will be the last joyous day of your miserable little life.

When the sun sets and the darkness creeps in, the voices come.

Dad is back in Illinois, attending classes at a Bible college and dreaming of the future. Mom is back working at Brennan’s, dreaming of the future. Midnight is next to me on the couch, dreaming of hot dogs.

And I’m here, not wanting the dreams to come.

I’m here, wanting the day not to fade away.

But the sun always sets, and the nightmares always arrive.

75. Nowhere Fast

I’m already having a bad day when Pastor Marsh shows up.

Just call him Marsh because he’s no pastor.

It’s a gray, cool March morning, and I’m feeling groggy and totally incapable of being happy and thankful like Dad suggested. Watching the news reminds me that it’s not just Solitary that’s messed up, but it’s this world. There are riots in the streets and wars in other countries, and a mother is suspected of killing her two-year-old daughter.

It’s enough to make you not want to open your door and go outside.

Why go outside when you have the joys of Facebook at your fingertips right here in the house?

My classes suck, and the teachers are killing us with homework and exams, and college is laughing at me from afar. Even Kelsey seems different, because she’s feeling the overload herself, and she’s a straight-A student.

So when I see Marsh standing there looking all high and mighty I want to throw up on him.

Then I notice he’s standing by Mr. Meiners, and I get a little worried.

“Chris, just the man I wanted to see.”

It’s lunchtime, and I was looking forward to a nice break with Kelsey. But nope—doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.

Mr. Meiners just says hi and returns to his classroom.

“Let’s go grab a burger,” Marsh says.

“I really can’t.”

He laughs, then quickly nods and says, “Yes, you can.”

I don’t have a choice.

I put my books in my locker and leave with the pastor. Several students greet him. Unfortunately I don’t see Kelsey to tell her I’m going. I’ll text her when I get outside.

I get in Marsh’s car, and he heads to the closest fast-food place, a burger joint that I’ve only eaten at once because it’s really bad. I order a burger and fries, but I don’t feel like eating them. Marsh only orders an iced tea. We sit in a booth away from the other diners in the small eating area.

“You’re starting to disappoint me, Chris.”

Here we go.

Both of his hands hold the plastic cup, and I notice how girly his hands look. They’re soft and thin.

Those same hands slit my wrist, didn’t they?

“I hate being disappointed,” Marsh says.

“What’d I do now?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

I want to tell him that I only have one father, thank you very much. But I know I can’t.

“Your mother came home in one piece, didn’t she?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“So why then are you continuing to play with fire?”

“What do you mean?”

“Chris—”

“Is this about Jared?”

He slaps the table suddenly, and the crack it makes startles me. For a brief second I see a wild look on his face, an expression I can’t remember seeing before. It’s brief, but I know I saw it. He clears his throat and smiles at me.

“Don’t blame others, Chris. This is about you. Just … you.”

“Okay.”

“Why would you go visit that group?”

“Which one?”

He curses and then moves his head so that he can whisper to me. “You know exactly which group I’m talking about. This is why people are getting very irritated by your actions, and why I won’t be able to do anything about their response. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“No,” he snaps in a controlled whisper. “No, you don’t understand. You’re still out there trying to do it your way. When will you learn? Huh? Tell me that.”

“I’m sorry.”

Marsh laughs. “What a lie. You’re not even mildly sorry. But these people, Chris—Staunch and others—they can make anybody sorry for anything. I’ve seen it. You’ve seen it, but you tend to forget. And I don’t know if that’s because you think you’re untouchable or what.”

“No.”

“Because you’re not,” Marsh says. “You’re very touchable, I promise you. Their patience is running out. Staunch will do whatever he has to—and believe me, he has when he’s not restrained. He’s a big bull, that one. But he does what Kinner tells him to. He’s Kinner’s hands and voice. I’m just trying to bide our time.”

I notice the words he uses.

Our time.

“And what do you think you’re doing with the girl?”

I’m about ready to say who, but decide that I shouldn’t. “What about her?”

“What about her? Why is there a ‘her’ to begin with? Haven’t you learned?”

“You said that she wouldn’t be harmed.”

Marsh curses, but this time it seems like it’s to himself. He glances out the window and then around the restaurant. Nobody is paying us any attention, and even if they were, I doubt Marsh would care.

“I’m trying to figure you out, and I just don’t seem able to. I mean—I first thought you just wanted the hottest girl around for one reason. That your so-called ‘nobility’ is more due to fear and hesitation. But then this comes along. Where do you see this thing going?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I can tell you where it’s going,” Marsh says. “Nowhere fast. You need to end things with her.”

I begin to shake my head, and Marsh shakes his like he’s frantically copying me.

“Do you want her to end up like Jocelyn or Lily? Do you?”

“But you said—”

“It doesn’t matter what I say. You believe anything coming out of my mouth, and half the time I’m just making something up to shut you up or try to stop you from doing something even more stupid. This isn’t a love story, Chris. Eventually you can find the things you need—and yes, down the road you can even convince yourself it’s love, if that’s what you need, though it will never last. But you can’t have that now.”

“Why?”

Marsh sits up and tightens his jaw. “Maybe for starters because I say so.”

He looks like he could easily take those girly hands of his and strangle me without a bit of hesitation.

He sits back and sips his tea and seems to gain control of his anger. “You don’t want anything to happen to her, right?”

I nod.

“Then you politely and calmly end it.”

My heart starts beating, and my mind starts racing.

“You do it this week. Kinner is concerned for you, Chris. Kelsey and her family are all believers, and that worries him. That, along with you going to visit that group in the woods. I mean—what’s going on with you, Chris?”

“Nothing.”

“Is that girl having that much influence on you? Are you feeling guilt for late-night longings you have for her? Or for the things you’ve seen that you’ve kept from others? Things like what happened to Jocelyn. And Lily. What is it?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“I think you know. Look—I’ve had my moments, and I can understand. But Kinner doesn’t. So the solution is you break it off with Kelsey. You won’t be trying to convince her to sleep with you, and you won’t be having doubts and confusion and all that nonsense. I mean—don’t you see it’s just nonsense? Guilt and fear and frustration. The only thing that faith gives you is guilt. And that’s what I’ve been telling you all this time. I can find a way for you to let go and be free.”

Liar.

This man across from me doesn’t look like he’s ever let anything go. And he sure doesn’t look free.

For a moment he waits for me to respond, but I don’t.

“End things with Kelsey, or Staunch will end things his way. You understand? Look at me. In the eyes. Do you understand?”

I force myself to look at him.

I want to kill this man and end all the pain and suffering he’s brought to this town and these people. And to me and my family.

“Yes,” I say. “I understand.”

I understand that one day I’m going to kill you, you sick freak.

“You have a little over two months to go. You don’t need to be worrying about Kelsey and her broken little heart. You’ll find you have to deal with enough on your own.”

He smiles.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on. I gotta take you back to school. Don’t want to break any rules, do we?”