Temptation: A Novel (17 page)

49. Broken

That night I have a nice little pity party.

Lily texts me with an apology and a long explanation, but I don’t really care.

I get home, and Mom offers me an apology and a longer explanation, but I don’t really care.

I don’t text Lily back and don’t respond to my mom.

Instead I go up to my room and let my anger boil over. I turn up my stereo, daring my mom to come upstairs to tell me to turn it down, but nope, she doesn’t.

I’ve been searching so long, trying to work things out.

But not anymore.

I just—I just really—

I don’t care anymore.

Nothing’s going to be all right anymore.

Nothing.

And I tell myself this the next day when morning comes.

And the following day.

I even tell myself this when the second session of summer school starts, and the group of five kids isn’t as interesting and colorful as the first batch.

It doesn’t matter.

I’m going to come in and endure the few hours of class and then leave. Without saying a word. Without getting to know anybody.

Because it doesn’t matter.

It’s the same thing over and over again.

Walking uphill and being turned around and around.

I feel like a broken man but am constantly and continually reminded that I’m just a boy just a little boy just a boy Chris boy oh BOY.

And in the midst of running and walking and feeling the anger inside day and night, it’s funny how time flies.

50. Summertime Rolls

My birthday in August comes and goes without much of anything.

So uneventful.

I was hoping that someone besides Mom would know and celebrate. But then again, there aren’t too many people out there to celebrate with. I’ve ignored calls and texts from Lily, and maybe I shouldn’t but I’m just tired of the confusion and the lies and the mysteries. So very tired. Mom tries by giving me a few gifts (including a gas card, which I’ve desperately needed), but it doesn’t help me escape the monotony of everything else.

Not even a call from Dad. Not that I wanted one, but still.

Poe—well, she’s long gone and has no idea it was my birthday. The kids in my second summer school session—I haven’t gotten to know any of them, and they seem content not getting to know or even interact with me.

Ho hum.

On a whim, I decide to open the letter that Kelsey sent me. I feel like hearing from someone, anyone, now that I’m officially seventeen.

I open the letter and see a simple note. Short and sweet.

Hi Chris.

All flowers in time bend toward the sun.

Kelsey

I read and reread the note and try to make sense of what she’s saying.

Okay??

Then I shake my head.

This was why I didn’t open this letter. Some other mystery. Some other random mysterious message that I don’t get. I’m tired of not getting. Tired of not understanding.

I fold up the letter and put it back in the envelope.

Not much later, I slam the phone down and curse at my weakness.

I’m not a chosen anything.

I’m not a special anybody.

I actually seriously almost dialed all the numbers belonging to my dad’s new place. I got the number from my mom’s purse after searching long and hard the other day. I scribbled them down with the full intent to call him with an SOS, whatever that might look like. I figure that just my calling and saying that we needed help would be enough, but then again who knows. Maybe he’s got a twenty-four-year-old girlfriend who believes in God too, and they’re going to get busy populating the world with godly children.

I go upstairs and search through records and find the one with a cover that Mom surely wouldn’t like. I’ve heard of Jane’s Addiction before but never really listened to them. I put on the record and listen. Mom is gone—when is she not gone? She could be here inside this house and she’d be gone—she could have headphones on and waving hello at me and she’d still be gone. It doesn’t matter.

I crank up the stereo. The loudest I’ve ever had it. The room and the bed and the floor vibrate.

The album is called
Nothing’s Shocking.
Is that not just so utterly and wonderfully fitting?

The songs are loud and wild, and I like the fact that they’re kinda crazy, but I don’t like any of them, not really, not until the laid-back song called “Summertime Rolls.”

It starts off moody and drifting and sorta sums up how I feel. Spiraling and circling this house like a vulture in need of something but unable to find what it needs. The cloud of smoke drifting upward higher and higher.

It’s stoner music, and I maybe should give Roger or Brick a call. But that’s not my thing. I could invade Mom’s liquor stash—oh, I know, Mom, you think I don’t know about it—but I don’t because that’s not my thing either.

Instead, I dream of dancing with Lily to this song, her arms wrapped around mine, her eyes on me, her smile welcoming me.

“Me and my girlfriend,” the singer sings, and that’s what I want.

“She loves me, I mean it’s serious,” he sings, and that’s what I need.

Right now.

I don’t need to figure out the rest of the world and whether we go somewhere else after we die. I don’t need to know about the spirits circling above and the tunnels dug underneath. I don’t give a rip about any of that. I just care that it’s summertime and that it’s rolling and that the days just pass without all those dark omens beating me over the head and heart.

I want summertime to keep rolling.

To keep rolling.

And for me not to feel bad. Or fear the bad. Or think bad thoughts.

I need Lily.

Whatever this singer is talking about—that’s what I want. Crazy passion.

So so serious.

“As serious can be.”

I finally give in and text.

LILY HELP ME. COME BACK TO ME. I NEED YOU. I NEED SOMEONE.

But she ignores me like I’ve ignored her.

51. Who Knows

So the remaining August days come and go.

And summertime does indeed roll.

And in some crazy, impossible way, I find myself actually looking forward to school. To seeing other students and maybe starting over.

And then an invitation arrives in the mail. Addressed to me.

The Annual Staunch Labor Day Bash

Labor Day

Starting at 4 p.m. and going until ????

I hold the heavy card with the fancy design and shake my head.

Why not?

I have nothing more to lose. I’ve seen the house, and it’s not that frightening.

I’m bored. And lonely. So fine.

Maybe I’ll get some more answers and will learn that I can fly.

That would be great.

I turn the invitation over and see handwriting.

Hi, Chris. Please feel free to bring a guest. We hope you can come. It will certainly be in your best interest if you can make it.

IS

I stare at the initials.
IS.
Just call me Is.

I decide that I’ll go and that I’m going to get the rest of the story on who I am and why I’m important and then …

Well, then, who knows.

52. The Spoon

I decide to head down the street to the Staunch house around six. I take my bike just in case I want to leave quickly (or have to escape for some reason). I like the security of the motorcycle even if the drive is only a few minutes.

Maybe that’s why Iris gave it to you.

I hate thinking of Iris because I have no idea what happened to her. I hate not knowing.

I find the gate opened and see a hundred people roaming around outside the Staunch residence. Nobody’s wearing a robe or carrying a machete.

Turns out, half of Solitary seems to be at the Labor Day gathering. All standing on the lawn, holding plates of food or drinks like some kind of church picnic.

I see Sheriff Wells. And his deputy who hates me, Kevin Ross. Principal Harking is there talking to some people (probably parents). My track coach, Mr. Brinks, sees me and shouts out a big “Chicago!” He comes over and feels my arms and stomach to make sure I’m not getting flabby.

Ah, feels just like home.

Then I see a couple walking down the slight hill hand in hand. A strangely attractive couple, smiling and looking polished like a pair of fancy shoes.

Jeremiah Marsh spots me and starts to guide his wife, Heidi, toward me.

This is the first time I’ve ever really seen her in public. She’s a stunning figure, but not because she’s good-looking. She’s older and looks almost—regal or something. She’s white as a ghost, but I think that’s on purpose. Like some of those movie stars or models who look pale.

Maybe it’s because she’s kept inside her house locked up.

I wonder if she’s going to act like she recognizes me, but when Marsh comes up and shakes my hand, Heidi only smiles at me.

“Chris, I don’t know if you’ve had the pleasure,” Marsh says in a more distinct Southern drawl, as if he’s trying to show off. “This is my beloved wife, Heidi.”

She has blonde, almost white, hair that seems to hover around her head and glide onto her shoulders. A sleek hand brushes it away from her face right before she reaches out to shake my hand.

Her hand feels like cold silk.

“Hello, Chris.”

Up close, I no longer think of her as some movie star. She resembles one of the elves in Lord of the Rings, striking but also a bit—otherworldly.

This is the same lady who screamed at you in her house and looked like a maniac.

“Do you live near here?” she asks me.

I’m not sure if she’s acting and already knows or if she doesn’t remember me. I tell her where I live.

Her blue-green eyes seem to change shape like some kind of expensive crystal in the sunlight.

This is the same woman who sent you to try and save Jocelyn.

Maybe she really
is
an actress, because she’s certainly fooling me by acting like she doesn’t know me.

“I’ve always loved this property,” she says in a high-class sort of Southern drawl as well. “The creek and the sprawling lawn and the beautiful house. I told Ike that we’d buy his property if we had the money.”

Ike?

Is that short for Ichor?

As we talk—or mainly as I listen while Jeremiah and Heidi talk to me—I notice that the pastor never stops holding her hand. At one point he laughs at something she says and then puts his other hand on her bare arm to stroke it. But it’s kinda weird how he does it.

Like the way someone strokes a cat or something.

“Well, Chris, you certainly must have some of that delicious brisket they’re serving,” Heidi tells me.

“Sure.”

“Not that she would know,” Marsh says. “It takes a lot of willpower to look this beautiful.”

“I had my three bites, thank you very much.”

Marsh looks at her and seems to momentarily forget about me. He smiles and makes some weird face at her, then pecks her on the cheek.

“Oh, Chris, be sure and see the host before you leave.”

Those beady eyes stare at me from behind those sleek glasses. I nod and watch them walk away. Still hand in hand, as if she might try to escape if he let go.

It’s really weird. Not seeing them—well, it’s
always
weird seeing Marsh—and not just seeing Heidi act like she doesn’t recognize me.

It’s weird seeing Marsh around his wife.

He really acts like he loves her.

But in a weird, sick kind of way.

I have my full plate of food—beef brisket, corn on the cob, baked beans, corn bread, coleslaw—when I hear a curse and then feel something ram into my back. My entire plate of food gets smashed into my chest before spilling all over the rest of my clothes. I turn around, but I’ve already recognized the voice.

There he is. The big, fat face I’ve missed so much this summer.

“What do you think you’re doin’ here?” Gus demands as if stunned that I’m walking on his lawn.

I’m wiping my clothes off. “I got a personal invitation.”

“You get out of here or your face is gonna look like that shirt of yours.”

I’m glad I wore a white T-shirt. Makes the stains stand out all the more.

I see the crowd around us watching and I decide I don’t need this.

“You know, school hasn’t even—”

I stop as I see something rushing toward us from the corner of my eye. Then I see Ichor Staunch come up beside Gus with one of the large metal serving spoons that I’d just used for my plate and whack him over the head several times. I’m startled and move back as Gus crumbles to the grass with his hands over his head, as he screams for his father to stop.

Then Mr. Staunch takes his free hand and grabs Gus’s neck.

“I have warned you, boy, and you do not listen to me.”

He swats the metal spoon against Gus’s thick jaw, laying him out over the lawn. The sound makes me sick.

Then I hear another sound.

Gus is crying, his hands covering his face as he lies curled up like some baby on the grass.

I suddenly feel sorry for the big guy.

Everybody is now watching in silence, but nobody is doing a thing. Teachers and cops and mothers and fathers.

Nobody does a thing.

It’s almost as if they’ve seen stuff like this before.

Or they’re too afraid to do something against a man who will be this crazy.

Staunch looks around and raises a hand. “Sorry about that, folks. Don’t let Gus here ruin our party.”

And that’s that.

It’s like someone just had a heart attack and everybody around him is going on talking and eating and minding their own business.

One man can’t have this kind of control.

Staunch comes over to me and shakes his head as he looks at my messy shirt and pants.

“I’m truly sorry about that, Chris.”

And you thought
your
father sucked.

I just nod. Others around us have seemed to get a clue and are now talking again.

“Come on up to the house,” he tells me. “I wanted to talk with you in private anyway. I guess that moron of a son of mine actually made that happen.”

Gus is now sitting up, but he still has his face in his hands and is whimpering.

“You coming?” Staunch asks me. He’s still holding the spoon.

I’d hate to see this man with an actual weapon in his hand.

I nod and follow him.

I’m sad, but not just for poor Gus.

I mean, it was his fault.

But no. I’m sad because I really wanted to have some of that brisket.