Understudy (15 page)

"Hey! I don't want to sound like I'm bragging, but I may have saved your life earlier."

As much as I hated myself for being clumsy and allowing him to think he was my knight in shining armor, he was right. I grudgingly turned around to face him.

"WHAT?"

He sighed and walked towards me, stopping just a few inches away. I wanted to take a step back but I stood my ground. I lifted my chin and stared at him squarely. I didn't want him to think that he intimidated me.

Eric stared back at me, his eyebrows scrunching a bit, then he said, "Why do you hate me that much?"

The question took the breath out of my lungs. I wasn't sure what annoyed me more, the question, or just that he had the guts to ask it. Yet, a small part of me had been waiting for this moment, waiting for the time when I could tell him how much I hated him. I opened my mouth to speak but he beat me to it. "Look, I'm not a saint like my brother, but I'm not as douchey as you make me out to be. I just want to know."

The anticipation was too much and I had to take a breath to prepare myself. I felt like there was a great ball of fire in my chest wanting to come out. Slowly burning my insides as the heat inched its way out of my throat, to my tongue, forming the words. "You want to know why?"

Eric nodded ever so slightly, and I let the fire consume me.

"Adam died because of you."

"What?" He looked at me for a moment, then he held up his hands and dropped them lifelessly. "It was an accident for crying out loud!"

"That accident happened because of you! He died because of you!"

Eric looked away. "I don't even know how to respond to that."

The fire burned brighter. Angrier. "Of course you don't. YOU DON'T CARE!"

"Wait...I don't understand−"

"You called him and he dropped the goddamned phone!" It all came back to me. Adam's phone. Adam grabbing the phone. The phone slipping from his hand. Adam picking it up. His last words...

I got this.

I wanted to forget that moment, but it was so vivid. It always came back to haunt me. And to make things worse, Eric stood in front of me. Adam's living apparition. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, pretend for a second that he was indeed Adam. But the more I thought about it, the more painful it got.

"He died because of you," I said. It was the only thing that made sense at the moment. "He died because of you."

Eric grabbed a fistful of his hair. His face was red with...what? Anger? Guilt? Pain?

"Why didn't you tell me this?" he asked, tears streaming down his face. "You should've told me before!"

He walked around the room aimlessly. He would stop for a while and gasp for air. He was crying. Really crying. I had never seen a guy cry like that. I had never seen Adam cry like that, but now, I sort of had.

I wasn’t sure how long he stayed in the gym with me. But when I realized that he’d left, I finally let my own tears fall.

Chapter Seventeen

Eric missed school the next day. And the day after that. And the day after. I continued on with my life as if nothing happened. I reasoned to myself that I did what he asked. He wanted to know why I hated him. Truth hurts.

Yet when I lay in bed at night and closed my eyes, all I could see was Eric’s face and the sounds he made as he cried. I thought it would make me feel better knowing that he finally felt responsible for the accident. But I was wrong. I felt worse. I was there when it happened. I was the one who told Adam to answer the phone. But then again, I wouldn't have told him to if Eric didn't call in the first place. We shared the guilt. But somehow, it felt wrong.

"You know I love you Kat, but you look terrible," Adam said one afternoon as we sat on the edge of the lake with our feet submerged in it. "Losing some sleep?"

"It's just the stupid play. I have to prepare everybody's props. It sucks."

"I thought you enjoyed working on stuff like that?"

"I kinda do. But I have other things to do as well."

"When is this play going to happen, again?"

"Next month."

Adam lay down beside me and crossed his arms beneath his head. "I'd do anything to see that play. How's Eric doing?"

It seemed the water grew cold, until I realized that it was actually I who got frozen.

"He's fine."

"He is? You think he can pull this off? God, I'd really like to watch that! Can you put it on video for me? Even just his performance."

Everything went quiet. It felt as if everyone's eyes were on me even though there was only just me and Adam. Everyone at school was talking about Eric's absence and though they didn't say it, I knew they were thinking that I had something to do with it. And I hated that they were right.

Mr. Blake was getting panicky that Eric wouldn't show up for the play. He had already asked Keith Hetham to be Eric's understudy. And if Keith did end up as Tiny Tim next month, how would I explain that to Adam?

"Kat? Is there something wrong?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I felt a hand on my waist and I looked at him. He looked perfect under the afternoon sun. His features were calm and relaxed. His lips were slightly parted, and all I could think of was how I wanted him to kiss me, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I'd feel slightly better.

"Kat?"

"Will you kiss me?" I asked.

Adam raised his eyebrows. "Well, let me see−"

"Just freaking kiss me!" I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pressed his lips against mine. I felt him smile but he played along. I kept my eyes closed the whole time.

I tried to focus all my attention on his lips, but Eric's face kept popping into my head.

"Sorry, but I need to do something," I said, reopening my eyes.

"Do what?" Adam asked, breathless.

"Fix someone."

***

They were still rehearsing when I entered the gym. Sara rushed to my side as soon as she saw me.

"Hey, what are you doing here? Did you forget something?" she asked.

I scanned the room for Eric. I knew he wouldn't be there, but I kinda hoped he was.

"No, but I'm looking for someone and−"

"Stop. I know you're busy or whatever but I need to tell you something."

"Sara, I love you. I really do but I need to talk to Eric."

Sara's face fell. "You're kidding, right?" She studied my face for a moment, and when she realized I was serious, her expression turned sour. "What the hell, Kat?"

"I know it sounds stupid but−"

"It is stupid! And he's been AWOL for like three days. What makes you think he'll come here to rehearse for the play?"

"I honestly don't know."

Sara sighed. I saw worry in her eyes, though it immediately turned into doubt, and before she could accuse me of anything else, I told her what happened in the storage room.

When I finished, she looked at me for a long time and shook her head. "I still hate him, I do but you can't really blame him for everything. I'm not saying it's your fault either but−"

"It is!" I said.

"It was an accident. Nobody had wanted it to happen."

"But−"

"Just shut up, Kat."

I did. We both took a chair and watched the rehearsal, though I bet that like me, Sara wasn't really seeing anything.

"So what's the plan now?" she asked.

"I'm going to his house."

"What?!"

"I need to apologize."

"What?! Why? No!"

"You just said I can't blame everything on him."

"I did. But that doesn't mean we're BFF's with him now!" She was staring at me like I just sprouted a horn on my forehead. "We hate him."

"Yeah, about that..." I almost wanted to tell her about Adam wanting to watch Eric as Tiny Tim. But that was asking too much.

"I need to go."

"What? No! You're−"

"Just shut up, Sara." I gave her a quick hug and left before I changed my mind.

***

It had been a long time since I visited Adam's house, and I never once imagined myself knocking on their door looking for Eric. Maybe Sara was right. It was stupid.

I knocked once. Twice. Nothing. I waited for a while, but I kept my fingers crossed hoping nobody was home. As I was about to turn around, the door opened.

"Katharine?"

At first I thought I had the wrong house. I didn't recognize the thin woman standing in front of me. Yet when she spoke my name and I noticed her eyes, as green as Adam's, I realized it was his mom.

"Mrs. Wharton," I said, though  I wasn't really sure. Her face looked gaunt and she wore too much make up.

"How are you doing?" she asked,  smiling,  though it didn't reach her eyes.

"I'm fine, thank you," I said. I suddenly realized how awkward it was, but it was a reflex reaction, and everybody says fine even if they're not.

"I'm glad you are. Come in," she said, but she remained unmoving where she stood. It was all for show. I can take a hint.

"Thank you, but I'm just wondering if Eric is around?"

Her smile faltered a little. "He's not."

"Oh... I see."

"Can I help you with anything else?" Her tone suddenly went cold, and I thought about leaving. But then I blurted, "Where is he?"

Mrs. Wharton clenched her jaw and I expected the door to shut in my face, so I said, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to intrude but he missed school for three days and we just want to know if he's alright."

She considered this for a moment. "He's at the cemetery," she said.

I opened my mouth to thank her, but nothing came out. I hadn't been able to visit Adam's grave for obvious reasons. And it never crossed my mind to do so, until now.

"I, um..." I was at lost for words. "I think I better go now before the sun disappears."

She nodded, and before I could say a proper goodbye, the door shut in my face.

I found myself contemplating between knocking on the door to tell her that I was sorry, or just accept that I had become an unwanted person to her the moment Adam died. Yet, as I lingered for awhile, I thought I heard a sob from behind the door.

Chapter Eighteen

I never liked visiting the cemetery. The last time I set foot in that place was during my grandpa's funeral, and I was like three at that time so I couldn't remember much, except that I hated the place because everybody was crying and we all wore black. It was depressing as hell.

Now, as I walked down a grassy path with absolutely no idea where I was going, I was convinced how stupid this idea was. I should have waited outside the house. But whenever I remember the sound of Mrs. Wharton's sobs, my heart would start breaking into a million pieces.

I decided to focus on finding Eric instead. I thought if he was here, he would be easy to spot since he'd be obviously wearing black from head to toe. But as minutes passed by and after  bumping into some people who also wore black clothes, I couldn't help but feel like the world's greatest idiot. It was like looking for a particular  guy wearing green clothes on St. Patrick's.

I took a deep breath and decided to go home. But I hadn't even take a step when I heard his voice. "You give up? Just like that?"

I turned around expecting to see Eric sneering at me, but he wasn't.

"Up here."

I looked up to my left where a low hill stood and emerging from the peak was Eric. He was wearing a black V−neck sweater and, surprise surprise, a pair of gray jeans.

"You've never visited Adam's grave before?"

I was too embarrassed to respond.

"Well, couldn't blame you for that. It's really depressing here."

Again, I didn't answer. It just hit me that I was actually visiting Adam's grave. It was funny knowing he was buried down here while he was out and about in the woods. It almost made me laugh.

"Are you coming up or not?" Eric was looking down at me with his hands shoved inside his pockets. For a moment, I imagined that I was in the woods. That Adam was the one talking to me. Yet when I noticed the light stubble along Eric’s jaw and the dark circles around his eyes, the image vanished. I took the elevated path leading to Adam's grave and avoided focusing on the tombstone as much as possible.

"Seriously, is this your first time visiting?" The look of bewilderment on Eric's face made me want to punch him. I wasn't even sure I still felt bad for him. But I did. Especially when I knew I was the reason he missed school and why he looked like he hadn't slept for days. Saying sorry would've made me feel better, at least that's what I thought. If only I could say it.

Eric took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and popped one between his lips. He noticed me looking at him and he offered me one. I shook my head and looked away. Adam would never offer me a cigarette. He never smoked.

"Do you mind?" Eric asked, though he was already lighting his cigarette.

"No."

He took a long drag and held his breath for a few seconds, then he started coughing.

"Shit!"

He tossed the cigarette and crushed it on the ground, right in front of the tombstone.

"I don't think that's appropriate," I said.

"He wouldn't mind."

"We don't know about that."

"I know," he said, lifting up his chin as if daring me to challenge him. "He's my brother."

When I didn't answer, he continued. "It's been a year since I lit one of these." He held the pack in his hand, running his thumb across the logo. "He made me stop. He said it was going to kill me. I told him, at least I'd go first. Guess I was wrong." He placed the pack in front of the tombstone, and that's when I allowed myself to actually look at it.

Adam Christian Wharton

June 18, 1995 − June 18, 2013

It bothered me that Adam died on his birthday, but the idea of Eric doing exactly what Adam had told him was so unbelievable that it was almost funny. Eric, who was considered the black sheep of the family. Who was sent to boarding school because his parents thought it would set him straight. Eric, who could annoy anybody with his sudden mood swings, had actually taken time to follow Adam's advice.