Temptation: A Novel (23 page)

68. Harder to Breathe

Sometimes I still wonder.

When it’s just me and I’m not doing anything, I wonder.

Those questions and those memories and those pictures that I’ve tried to bury start to suddenly spring out of the well like that dead girl with the long hair in
The Ring.

It usually starts with thinking of Jocelyn.

It’s been over eight months since the New Year’s nightmare that I saw. And as long as those months might seem, I also know how incredibly short and sharp they are. I don’t want to picture Jocelyn, but I still can. Sometimes she seems forgotten about, but then sometimes, for some reason, I’ll think of her.

All the warnings, all the whispers, all the omens, all the strange things.

All boiling down to what? That I’m related to some guy?

So what?

I mean really—so freaking what?

There is still more to this story, but I don’t know what. I still want to know. I need to know. But I also desperately want to be able to be alone and not think about all this.

I’m at the cabin watching television on the evening of the same day Kelsey asked me to be her partner, when there is a pounding on the door.

The mountain man with his dog!

I look up and see Lily at the window.

She pounds at the door again, so I get up quickly and open it.

She almost literally falls into my arms, shaking uncontrollably and crying.

“What? What’s going on—Lily, what?”

I try to move to see her face, but she doesn’t let me. She hugs me with a fierce hold and I just stay there, arms wrapped around her, her sweet smell covering me, her soft skin against mine.

“I’m scared, Chris—I’m really scared.”

When I finally see her face, she looks tired and different. The beautiful confident aura is gone. Her face resembles a concrete sidewalk that’s starting to crack.

“Lily—what happened?”

“Are you alone?”

“I’m always alone,” I say.

“Can I just stay here for a while? And just—just not talk? Is that okay?”

I want to ask more questions, but I force myself not to. Instead, I just nod. She grabs my hand and leads me to the couch. She sits down and curls up in a ball, then rests against my chest and arm after I sit next to her.

This is becoming a habit, a nice one that I could get used to.

I’m able to keep my mouth shut and my questions to myself. For the moment. Because right now, Lily is in my arms, for some reason, and all those doubts and questions that I had before she came are gone.

Before she leaves, once the sun has long since disappeared and the cabin has grown dark except for the one light on in the family room, Lily asks me a question out of the blue. She still has refused to tell me what’s going on and has asked me not to ask about it. So her question seems even more mysterious than usual.

“What if you don’t do what they tell you to do?”

For a minute I’m not even sure who she’s talking about. Who’s telling who to do what? But she knows about Staunch and Marsh. It’s just—am I really doing what they want me to?

“I don’t get the question.”

“What if—I don’t know. You said everything was going to be fine. What did you mean by that?”

“My mom is going away soon. To some rehab or something. For at least a week or two.”

“And
that’s
why things are fine?”

I nod.

“And why’s that?”

“Because …” I don’t want to tell her the obvious.

“Let’s leave.”

“I can’t—I already told you.”

“But do you know any more about all the stuff going on?”

I know a little, but not enough. Not enough to make sense of any of it. I shake my head.

“With your mom gone—we can just leave.”

“But what about
your
family—your mother?”

“Chris—listen,” Lily says.

She stares at me for a moment. We’re standing by the doorway, and I’m waiting for an answer or a statement or something.

She moves and kisses me.

Suddenly I forget about the conversation and kiss her back. We lean against the doorway and block whoever might try opening it.

When she breaks away minutes later, she leaves me literally gasping for air.

There are no more questions, no more answers, no more solutions.

She just makes sure I have her full gaze and then she tells me with a seductive look, “Dream about me.”

I’m left on my own, still finding it quite hard to breathe.

69. Texts

The week passes slowly.

All I can think about is Mom leaving. I’m dying for her to go to rehab. Such a son, huh?

The only break comes in seeing Lily at school. And having conversations with her on the phone. Or texting her.

A text comes from her asking
WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

NOTHING.

YOU LIVE AN EXCITING LIFE.

IT WAS A LOT LESS EXCITING BEFORE YOU MOVED HERE.

WANT TO COME OUT?

NOW?

SURE, WHY NOT?

There’s a pause.

HELLO???

IT’S A WEDNESDAY NIGHT.

AND YOU’RE UP.

MY MOM MIGHT NOT APPROVE.

DO YOU ALWAYS OBEY THE RULES?

DO YOU?

UM—DO YOU KNOW ME?

KINDA.

YEAH, WELL, THEN YOU WOULDN’T ASK THAT.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?
I ask.

EVERYTHING.

STOP IT.

I’M JUST SAYING.

THAT’S NOT FAIR TO TEASE LIKE THAT.

I DO—I MEAN IT.

YOU MEAN WHAT?

I MEAN I WANT TO DO EVERYTHING. I WANT TO SEE EVERYTHING. I WANT TO EXPERIENCE EVERYTHING I CAN.

One minute I hear nothing from her. Then she texts me that.

OH.

WHAT’S WITH THE LITTLE TINY “OH”?

NOTHING.

STOP.

WHAT?

STOP SULKING.

I’M NOT SULKING.

YES YOU ARE.

YOU CAN’T EVEN SEE ME.

OH, I CAN SEE YOU AND I KNOW THAT LOOK OF YOURS.

CAN YOU SEE ME NOW?

YES.

AND WHAT AM I DOING?

SMILING.

Pause.

I’M RIGHT, HUH?

YES
I answer.

I’M ALWAYS RIGHT.

YES, YOU ARE.

SO ARE YOU GOING TO COME OUT TONIGHT?

I GUESS.

DON’T GUESS WITH ME.

YOU KEEP ME GUESSING.

AS I SHOULD.

THAT’S NOT FAIR.

YOU THINK LIFE IS FAIR?

NO.

GOOD. GET ON THAT BIKE AND ACT LIKE A MAN.

I SENSE SARCASM.

PROVE I’M WRONG.

MAYBE I WILL.

MAYBE I’LL LET YOU.

Pause.

YOU THERE?

Pause.

GOOD.

70. Lovesong

We’re riding in the darkness, going nowhere in particular.

We’re off the bike hanging off the edge of a mountain and laughing.

It’s like I’m back home again in Libertyville, laughing and loving life and feeling whole again.

Doesn’t matter what Lily and I are doing or not doing.

I feel young and fun again, and this whole train wreck of a life that’s happened in Solitary suddenly goes away.

I’m lovesick and she knows it and laughs and leads me on.

“What do you want to do when you’re older?” Lily asks me.

“Where do you want to live?”

“What do you dream about?”

“Who do you want to be?”

She’s curious and interested, and I talk more than I’ve ever talked before. The thousand thoughts in my mind are suddenly free to be uttered out loud. It’s magical. It’s freeing.

I don’t think about midnight being near or school being tomorrow.

I hold her hand and tell her what I think about her, what I
really
think. She smiles as if she already knows all of this. It doesn’t bother her. She doesn’t feel the need to say anything back or react. Or even thank me. She knows and it’s okay.

“I’m serious,” I say.

“I think about you all the time.”

“I’m slightly kinda crazy about you.”

“You just make me feel better.”

Lily takes my hand and kisses me. A sweet, soft kiss, but one that still leaves me wondering. It’s a short kiss, and I tell her this.

“I know,” she says.

“You send me mixed vibes.”

“I know.”

“You doing that on purpose?”

“Maybe,” she says, then is off talking about something else.

My head is soaring, and this is just another school night for a senior.

Yeah right.

The silence and solitude are suddenly my friends, suddenly helpful in keeping the rest of the world away from my Lily.

This night, unexpected just like the curly-haired blonde walking through the door of my summer school class, soon ends. And I tell her good night. Wanting more.

71. Dr. Everything’ll Be All Right

“I don’t like leaving you here by yourself.”

Mom has a suitcase by the door and is moments away from leaving.

It’s a bit surreal, to be honest. It’s like she’s going on some vacation, but instead of going to an all-inclusive resort, this place won’t have any perks and won’t be fun.

“I told you Dad is going to try and get here tomorrow or Friday.”

It’s late September, and I have no idea what Dad might be up to. But I do know he’s not coming here tomorrow or Friday or anytime.

“Tell him to call me—I’ve left you the contact information. I don’t know how available I’m going to be to talk.”

She looks pale and tired. And really old.

I should probably be more supportive, maybe ride with her to the place or at least give her a nice pep talk before she goes, but I don’t.

“Chris—the envelope in there—it’s money for you. For these next few weeks. I know your father—well, I don’t want to seem like I’m leaving you here with nothing.”

Oh, but that’s okay, Mom.

“Just be careful. Okay? Anything—if anything strange happens. If there’s anything—
anything—
that happens, let me know. Do you understand?”

I nod, but think she might have said this to me when we first got here.

There’s too much to tell her. It wouldn’t fill a book. It would fill a series.

Yeah, just keep reading, Mom. Edward and Bella show up in chapter seventy-five.

“Chris, I love you,” Mom says, giving me a hug.

And that’s when I feel like a complete and utter failure as a son. I don’t tell her I love her back. Nor do I let the hug linger long. Nor do I tell her the truth.

Nope.

She gives me a look that almost looks like it could be the final look she gives me.

“I’m gonna get better,” she says. “I promise.”

I nod. Smile. Pick up the suitcase and take it down to her car.

Then I watch her get in and drive away.

Soon the car disappears and I’m left on my own.

In less than a year, I’ve ended up watching both my parents exit my life. And in both cases, I’ve been kinda glad.

I go back inside the cabin, where I feel something all around me.

Not ghosts or voodoo or sadness.

No. I feel the wonderful sensation of freedom.

I feel like turning up the stereo and doing air guitar in my tighty-whities and shades. But I don’t have tighty-whities (no thanks), and my shades fell off while I was riding the other day. And I have no idea what song a young Tom Cruise was dancing to in his empty house. Actually, even if I had that song and did everything the same, I’d run out of room in this tiny cabin.

Instead, I select one of Uncle Robert’s records and blast the first track.

I’ve heard it before, but not like this, not deliberately. I’ve seen it in a movie or a video or somewhere. I don’t even know much of Prince’s music.

But I get goose bumps when the crunching guitar kicks in and the song picks up at a hundred miles an hour.

Yeah, I can’t help but dance.

Yeah, I can’t help being happy.

The music is loud and all I wanna do is go crazy and get nuts. Just like the song says.

I’m seventeen, so sue me.

I’ve had a particularly bad year.

With the music cranking, I think about all the things I can suddenly do.

The little dark face on my bed stares at me. Midnight is wondering what I’m doing.

I’m trying to have some fun, want to join me?

I begin to mimic some air guitar that sends Midnight behind a pillow.

“Take me away!”

And with that, the song ends.

But I am just starting.

The screaming is downstairs, just like always.

I get out of bed and rush down, knowing that Mom is having another nightmare.

It’s only when I turn on the lights in her room that I remember that she’s gone. She’s gone and the house is empty except for Midnight and me (as much as I tried for it NOT to be by texting Lily) and the bedroom I’m looking at is bare.

Except …

The bedspread. It’s different.

I remember Mom had made her bed, and it looked fine when I picked up the suitcase earlier.

Now there’s an impression on the bed as if somebody had been lying on top of it.

The scream sounds again, and this time I jump.

Wake up wake up you’re just dreaming.

But I feel that scared falling sensation and I know I’m not dreaming.

The scream is coming from outside—maybe on the deck?

Don’t go out there don’t look.

It comes again. Like someone out of her mind. Higher pitched than my mom’s scream. But just as awful.

The tiny light outside the front door is on, but it doesn’t really shed much light. I go find a flashlight, then check out the deck from the windows. Nothing.

“Help me, they’re coming!”

The voice sounds like it’s right there in front of me. I actually duck because I think someone is going to suddenly reach through the glass and grab me.

But instead of glass breaking, I heard the sound of footsteps going down the steps.

My heart is racing, and I wonder what’s happening outside.

Another scream. Growing more faint.

I curse and open the door.

Idiot.

I shine the light down the steps on our driveway. I spot my bike where I parked it earlier. And then—moving around like some ghost—

What the—

The face turns, and I see her clearly. Even though her eyes are darker and she’s got blood coming out of her nose and mouth, I know who it is.

It’s Heidi Marsh.

On my driveway. Screaming.

Hey, you broke into her house once.

I’m stunned and freaked out not just by seeing her there and by her screaming, but also by what she’s wearing.

Or not wearing.

It’s like a loose slip or something. White, but all stained with blood. The blood is all over her back, as if she’s been cut somehow, and going down her bare legs. She looks skinny and frightened like a picture of a concentration camp victim suddenly let loose.

A hand goes up in front of her face, then almost seems to claw at me. Her scream is even wilder.

Then she’s gone. Down the driveway and onto the road and into the night.

I might be crazy. I might have gone searching for Jocelyn when I knew she was in trouble. Or I might have gone down in those tunnels looking for whatever was there. I might have even gone into the woods behind Staunch’s house to see Grandpa dearest.

But this—

No way.

I’m not about to follow that.

I get back inside and lock the door and wait. Wait to hear something else or see something.

But I’m waiting for a long time and nothing happens.

I guess I really did what Prince wanted me to do.

Let’s go crazy. So I did.

Heidi Marsh—well, something tells me she’s been crazy for a very long time.