Tilt (51 page)

over there it occurs to me that I don’t

have to sneak around anymore.

It’s dark by the time we hook up.

I leave my car, get into his, slide close

for a kiss that feels awkward. “Can

we go somewhere?” I touch his thigh,

the way I know he likes. “I want you.”

Rock Creek?
I agree and he starts

to drive to one of our favorite parking

spots.
So how was the funeral?
It’s

the kind of question you ask when

you don’t know what else to say.

“Sad.” I know he wants to ask if

I have rescheduled my appointment,

but I don’t want to tell him until

I have the chance to touch him. Kiss

him. Make him remember our love.

We Are Barely Parked

Dylan

At This Moment

I

have never loved her

more. She has possessed

me, this demon girl,

infiltrated me, and I

don’t

know how to exorcise her.

If I found the right words,

some damning incantation,

would I even

want

to

use them, command our hearts

apart? More than lust connects

us, so why doesn’t she understand

how much there is to

lose

if she pursues this ridiculous

plan? I refuse to be dragged

along. And, love or no love,

that will mean leaving

her

behind.

Shane

The Plan

To eradicate every reminder of Shelby

while we were all at the funeral

seems to have gone like clockwork.

Alex and I arrive home before everyone

else, and I go straight for the bedroom

I used to avoid. Emptied. No furniture.

No TV. No VCR. Lung assist machine?

Gone. Donated to a family who needs

one but can’t afford it. One small measure

of good. Thank you, Shelby, wherever

you are. You
are
there somewhere, right?

What a fucking joke. I snort a half laugh.

Alex looks at me with curious eyes.

What’s so funny?
Good question.

He probably thinks I’ve lost

it, and maybe I have. “Nothing, really.

Just pondering the Great Beyond.

You know, the Giant Void, and all that.”

Now he looks at me, surprised.
Giant

void as in space? Or as in the place

you used to call heaven?

“What’s the difference? It’s all a huge

bowl of nothing, isn’t it? And just what

the fuck is the point of any of it?”

That isn’t you talking, Shane. I really

think you need to give it some time.

Do you want me to stay or should I go?

“I think I want to be alone for a while.”

We exit the immediate void. Alex tries

to kiss me goodbye, but I’m not

in the mood.
Call me if you need me,

he says, starting toward the front door.

When he’s almost there, he turns back

to me.
Just so you know, your unshakable

faith, despite everything, is a very big part

of why I fell in love with you. It’s who you are.

It’s Who I Was

I watch him leave, go to my room,

turn on my computer. Enter “Death”

into the search engine. Holy crap.

Pages and pages of definitions

and theories and obituaries and stories

about people dying. Death pictures.

Death videos, including YouTube vids

labeled “gruesome.” What kind of freaks

post those? And who the fuck wants

to watch them? Oh my God. There

are more than a dozen beheadings.

Car wrecks. Executions. Maybe I do

want to watch them. See if I can find

any evidence at all of souls, fleeing.

Morbid curiosity is getting the best

of me. I believe I need to see one, and

am just about to click on it when I hear

familiar voices coming through the front

door. Footsteps follow, some moving

toward the kitchen, others up the hall.

Suddenly, there is screaming. A high,

sharp keen. Mom? I run toward the sound

and almost trip over Gaga, scrambling

for haven under my bed. Dad and Gramps

hurry from the other direction. We all know

where we’ll find Mom. Her siren wail

echoes in the emptiness of Shelby’s room.

No! No! No! How could you? Bastards!

We don’t try to stop her. It isn’t anger

she’s screeching. It’s pain, and we can’t

make it go away. She paces the perimeter,

mascaraed tears striping her face. When

she sees us, she raises the volume.
Who

did this? Whose idea was it? Christian?

It was Dad’s idea, but it is Gramps

who says,
We thought it would be best.

Mom turns on him.
Oh, you did?

You thought it would be best to wipe

my daughter from my life, scrub away

the last five years as if they never happened?

How dare you?
Her voice rises, approaches

hysterical.
How dare any of you assume

what’s best for me? How . . . how . . .

And now she breaks down completely,

throws herself onto the floor where

the carpet is darker from Shelby’s bed

having covered it all these years. Dad

and Gramps and I exchange silent

questions. Should one of us go to her,

urge her to her feet? Finally, Dad shakes

his head. We back out of the room, leave

Mom to her tear-drenched memories.

I Go Back to My Room

So I Do a Search for “God”