Temptation: A Novel (36 page)

“Say what?” I ask.

“To reject Jesus Christ.”

Marsh waits for me to say something, but I don’t.

“Chris—take that anger and that fear and that hatred—the kind that I just saw wrapped around my neck—take it and do something with it. What’s in a name you don’t believe in? What’s it to you anyway? You want to see power and control? Do this in front of the old guy. That’s all he wants. Get it over with. And soon.”

He stands there, and then says it again. “Soon. I mean it.”

With that, he’s gone.

103. Where This Will Lead

I know it’s going to take a lot of persuasion and hard work to get Kelsey to agree with me. After all, I’m the guy who kept ditching her last year for Poe. And the guy who basically ignored her all summer. And yes, I’m the guy who showed up senior year arm in arm with Lily.

Thanksgiving dinner is one thing, but this …

It’s probably not going to work, but I have to try. So I do it after lunch one day while we’re standing in the hallway by ourselves.

“Okay, so I wanted to talk with you—alone—’cause I want to ask you something.”

Kelsey looks curious and almost concerned. “Okay.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask. And it’s kinda coming out of nowhere. But I told you this when we first met—there’s stuff going on in my life—that’s one reason I’ve avoided getting to know you, if you really want me to be honest. Because of just—this stuff. That maybe one day I can tell you about. I know it’s the holidays, and I’m sure you have plans. But just—I’d like you—I’m wondering if you’d want to come to Chicago with me after Christmas. Right before the new year. And before you say anything, just listen. I know you’re going to school there and I’m sure you’ve visited, but this could be another chance for you to go see the campus since I’m heading back up there with my father on New Year’s Eve—”

“Okay.”

“And it will only be for a few days and I can ask your parents myself if you want me to. I don’t know if they’ll think it’s weird or anything—”

“Okay. Chris? I said okay.”

“Like okay, you’ll think about it?”

Kelsey laughs and looks at me with a surprised glance. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like all nervous or something?”

I realize that I’m a jittery, talkative mess. She’s right.

If you only knew, Kelsey. If you only knew.

“I’m sorry. Yeah. I just—it’s probably weird me asking.”

“Not really,” she says.

“You’ll go?”

For some reason I had it in my mind that she was going to say no. Perhaps because of the other girls in my life who have proved to be difficult when I needed them to be easygoing.

“Sure. That sounds like it’d be a lot of fun. My dad and I were just talking about me needing to check out the school again. They have something this spring, but still—this would be ideal.”

I wait for a catch, but it’s not coming.

I almost want to hug her.

She doesn’t understand why I’m asking her. Why I’m desperate.

Nothing’s going to happen to you, Kelsey. You’re going to be by my side on New Year’s Eve and you’re going to be far away from this hellhole and nothing will happen.

“You think your parents will let you go with me? My dad is going to be there, of course. We’d stay at his apartment in Chicago. I haven’t even been there yet.”

“Of course. They really like you.”

“Really?”

“But you already know that.”

In some ways, yes, I guess I do. But I haven’t paid much attention.

“Well, just—you want to ask and make sure?”

She gives me an excited and shy nod. And once again, those eyes tell me everything.

Do you know what you’re doing?

Of course I don’t. I don’t know what this will mean for Kelsey and me. If this is leading her on or if I want to lead her on or if anything will happen and if I even want something to happen. I haven’t thought through all of that and don’t have time to.

“I’ll let you know tonight,” she says, then adds, “if you want me to.”

“Yeah. Just text me. Or call. Whatever.”

“Okay.”

I head back to my locker wondering how that could have been so easy.

Things are never that easy.

I just hope there’s no catch.

104. The Gift

It’s just Mom and I on this cold Christmas morning. In some ways, it’s kind of nice. The fire is going, and we’re both in pajamas and sweatshirts with no worries of needing to get ready or shovel the deck or even bother to go outside. The tree doesn’t have many gifts under it, but neither of us minds.

It’s been a tough year for both of us.

Mom actually surprises me with a phone when I tell her that the one I had was busted. It probably is, since I chucked the old one into a Dumpster in Asheville. The new iPhone is just like the kind I had. Except I have a feeling this one hasn’t been tampered with.

The phone isn’t the last gift she gives me. She saves a small box for last, making me curious about it.

“Keys to a new car?”

She likes my joke. “Or maybe it’s a wallet, for when you get your
license.
”

That’s an even better joke. My negligence in getting a driver’s license has become our joke now. She’ll ask me about it and I tell her I’m working on it.

I open up the small box. It’s a lighter. An old lighter by the look and feel of it. There’s a logo of wings on it.

“Is this for all the cigarettes I smoke?” I joke.

“That’s a Zippo lighter. An original. From World War II days. It belonged to your great-grandfather when he served in the army.”

The mention of my great-grandfather makes me stop breathing. I look up at her to see if she’s going to say anything else. To surprise me.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I say.

“You just turned pale.”

“Really?”

“Are you okay, Chris?”

“Yeah. This is great, Mom.”

“His name was Walter Kinner. He died while fighting over in Europe, and this was brought back by one of his fellow soldiers and given to his wife.”

Uh, no, Mom, he didn’t die, because I just saw him, and while he looks a bit, well, unhealthy, I still saw him.

“I wanted to give it to you as part of our history. There’s a lot about my family that I’ve tried to forget. Because of my mom and dad passing away. But family is family.”

Right, Chrissssssss?

“Chris?”

“Yeah, that’s great—thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Does it have to do with your father? Or Christmas?”

“Maybe both,” I lie.

I lie because I have no idea what to tell her.

So my great-grandfather served in the army during World War II. Did he die over there, like Mom is saying?

Reports would have that, right?

Reports far away from this place.

I guess in some ways, it doesn’t matter. The man I met the other day has enough issues. Whether or not he’s lying …

Or whether or not he’s dead …

“I want your trip to Chicago to be a nice break for you,” Mom says.

“Thanks.”

“I hope it’s also a good chance for you and your father to start over—to actually be on good terms.”

“Yeah.”

I hold the lighter in my hand. “Have you tried to work it?”

Mom shakes her head, and I open it up and try it.

“Maybe if you took it somewhere, they could put some lighter fluid in it,” she says.

“You trying to turn me into a pyromaniac or something?”

“If you do get it working, be careful. I’d prefer you keep it more as a memento.”

“I’m not going to lose it, Mom.”

Then again, maybe I should.

Maybe it will start lighting itself in the middle of the night.

I’m really curious about Walter Kinner now. Even more than I was before.

105. Chicago

The night changes everything.

So she told me.

Final words to her little boy.

In the passenger seat of the SUV, I look out and see the city. It glows and breathes and welcomes me. I hear the words and believe them.

I never knew Chicago could look so beautiful.

It’s late and I feel like we’ve been driving forever. My ears are sore from the earbuds attached to my iPod. My butt is sore from sitting in place for so long. The last time we stopped was around Lexington. I’m ready to get out and stretch my legs and step back onto flat Illinois land.

Solitary is over a dozen hours away.

Not far enough, if you ask me, but it’ll have to do.

It’s quiet in the car. I look out the front window at the skyline in the distance. That’s where we’re headed, toward the city and not the suburbs.

The city means more people. More people means more help in case—well, in case of anything.

“You awake?”

I glance over at my father. “Never fell asleep.”

“You closed your eyes.”

Sometimes it’s better that way.

I yawn and wipe my eyes.

“You’re going to enjoy it here,” Dad tells me.

“Yeah.”

I don’t really believe this. I want to. I really want to. But I just need to be away from that cursed town for a while. Maybe I can slowly begin to forget. Maybe I can slowly start to live again.

But that’s what you tried doing in the summertime, and look where it got you.

I don’t want to think about the last few months. The only thing that will bring is hurt, and I’ve got enough of that as it is.

“I think you’ll like the apartment,” Dad says.

“I think I’ll like anything that doesn’t have winding dirt roads around it.”

Or secret hidden tunnels below it.

Dad doesn’t know quite what to say. I don’t blame him. He probably still aches for Mom. Maybe he’s angry at himself for not being able to do anything more.

That’s how I feel. Angry with myself with nothing left to say.

When someone dies all you can sometimes do is stay quiet and keep moving.

I thought that losing Jocelyn hurt. But this … this is different. This is worse.

The first time you did too little. But this time you did too much.

“Hungry?” Dad asks.

I was until I turned off the music and started hearing the voices. “No.”

The city with its lights and life invites us in. I’m glad to see civilization again. I no longer feel so remote and so alone.

Yet there’s a part of me that says I should have stayed.

There was no reason to stay.

There’s so much to think about that my head hurts. I can’t sort out the details. I think of the motorcycle, of the cards, of Marsh and Staunch, of Oli, of
him
. I can feel the Zippo lighter in my pocket.

Then I picture her face and feel the hurt again.

“I know Mom is proud of you.”

I let out a chuckle and then keep my voice down. “Proud of me for what?”

“Proud of you for being strong for her.”

It’s been quite some time since I’ve felt proud or strong. The irony is that it’s my father telling me this.

Seven months ago, there’d have been no chance ever that I’d be riding here with
him
.

But life sure has a way of crashing and burning around you.

The interstate eventually merges into Lake Shore Drive. Even though I can’t see it, I know Lake Michigan is out there in the darkness. I can feel it watching and waiting in silence. Eventually we take an exit and drive for a few minutes down block after block.

“This place will be busy tomorrow night around this time,” Dad says.

Everybody will celebrating and toasting and laughing and living.

Wanna know what I was doing last year on New Year’s Eve, Dad? I was discovering that this girl I’d fallen crazy in love with had her throat slashed by a bunch of freaks in robes.

Even though Dad knows a few things, he doesn’t know that much. He can’t know much. I still don’t know everything, but I know enough now. I know a lot of answers to questions that circled inside my head a year ago.

Answers might fit the puzzle pieces together, but they still don’t block out the gaping hole in the picture. The hole that’s my heart.

I turn around and look in the backseat. A tiny ball of black is bundled up on the blanket. It’s Midnight, the Shih Tzu that once belonged to Jocelyn and that I’ve been taking care of for a year.

For an incredibly crazy year.

Next to Midnight is Kelsey. I see the long blonde hair falling in her face, her head slightly turned.

“Is she still asleep?”

I nod at Dad. For a while I just look at Kelsey.

A determined voice reminds me again.

They’re not going to take someone else. They’ve taken enough.

Dad pulls in front of a four-story brick building and stops, telling me that’s the place. He says we need to find parking. But I’m in no rush.

I feel like a prisoner who’s escaped his cell.

And any minute—any second now—someone will come and grab me and take me away.

Either take me away, or punish me for leaving in the first place.