The Contradiction of Solitude

by A. Meredith Walters

  “I don’t understand, Daddy,” I whined. I was tired. I was hungry. I didn’t want to be in this dirty, dark room with the bloody girl who cried and cried.

  Amelia.

  Daddy cupped my face and gave me an indulgent smile. “I don’t expect you to. Not yet. But one day, you will. One day you will see that memories are the only places where we can truly be free. To remember things as they should be.”

  He had a knife in his hand. I hadn’t seen it before.

  Then he turned away from me.

  Away.

  Towards Amelia.

  “Park the car here,” I said. My voice sounded muffled. Slurred. I was here but I wasn’t.

  I was lost.

  In memory.

  Elian turned off the engine and got out of the car. He seemed hesitant. He should be.

  “That’s the house?” he asked, inclining his head in the direction of the run down building.

  The grass was high, and the porch was sinking into the ground. It looked condemned. Not much different from the last time I had been there.

  Many, many years before.

  In my memories.

  “Your dad left you that place? It looks like it needs to be bulldozed.” Elian didn’t get it. I shouldn’t expect him to.

  I walked toward the empty, waiting house. Just like I had one night…a long time ago.

  The crying had stopped.

  The tears all dried up.

  And the blood.

  The blood was everywhere.

  The blood was all I saw…

  “I don’t want to go in there, Layna,” Elian protested, pulling on my hand. Stopping me.

  “I need to go inside. Both of us do. This is where it started.” I couldn’t see him. It was dark. So dark. The glow of Elian’s headlights illuminated the things I didn’t need to see.

  “Where what started?” Elian asked. He sounded spooked. Breathless. He gasped and wheezed. I could almost hear the thump, thump of his unreserved, painful heart.

  “Me. You. Both of us.”

  I watched my daddy tell his story. Sharp. Merciful. Careful. Gentle.

  He smiled at me, and I smiled back.

  Inside I buzzed…

  I opened the door. It was unlocked. I wasn’t surprised. Who else would find this place? Out in the middle of nowhere?

  “I came here,” I said, my voice echoing.

  “When?” Elian came inside behind me. It was bleak. Just like that night.

  Déjà vu hit hard. Hit true.

  “Go back to the car, Layna.”

  I had already seen everything.

  I had already seen it all.

  Why did I have to leave now?

  “This part is over. But for you, my little, little Layna, it’s only the beginning.”

  “I was eight years old. My daddy was supposed to take me to get some ice cream. That’s what he told my mother anyway. It was his excuse.”

  I stepped through the puddles on the floor. Sticky. Wet. Warm. Small shoe prints on the wood. Tracing my steps back outside. To before I had seen. Too much.

  “He had a girl here. Tied to a chair.” I looked around the room I remembered. All those years ago.

  All at once.

  But it was empty.

  When had that happened?

  “She was crying. Her mouth was gagged. And he loved her. I could tell,” I whispered.

  “He loved her? What are you talking about?” Elian wouldn’t come in. He stayed by the door.

  Disgusted.

  He was repulsed.

  Smart.

  I could hear my daddy singing as I walked back out to the car. Sweet, mournful sounds that filled my ears and bled out into the night.

  Waylon Jennings. His favorite.

  And he sang and sang.

  “She was really pretty. Just a girl. A teenager. And her eyes. They were the most brilliant shade of green I had ever seen…”

  Elian stilled. His face went white.

  He knew…

  “What are you saying, Layna?”

  “Are you ready to get that ice cream now?” My father asked after he returned to the car. I didn’t ask where Amelia went.

  I knew she was gone.

  But where did he put her?

  He had changed his clothes. He threw a trash bag into the backseat before getting in.

  “I feel a little sick, Daddy,” I told him, hiding my face. I didn’t want him to see me. To see how upset I was. Because of Amelia.

  Daddy pulled my chin around so that I had to look at him.

  “It’s okay to feel bad, Lay. It’s okay to feel good about it too. Do you remember what I told you that day after you got into the fight at school?”

  I nodded. “You said that I shouldn’t feel bad for being who I am.”

  “Right. And this is who I am, Layna. Is that all right?”

  What was he asking me?

  I thought about the pretty girl with the green eyes.

  “She was unhappy, Lay. She was sad all the time. She didn’t have a daddy that loved her the way that I love you. She’s free now. She’s a memory. And there she can be whoever we want her to be. Happy.”

  I nodded.

  I thought that made sense.

  “This place, our stars, they’re for us, Layna. Not for your mommy. Not for Matty. They wouldn’t understand. So it’s important not to tell them. But you understand, don’t you?” I nodded.

  My father’s coal black eyes glowed in the starlight. “You’ll write the stories too.”

  I beamed.

  “So how about that ice cream?” he asked, backing the car up. Driving away. Away from Amelia.

  “Can I get Rocky Road?” I asked.

  “Amelia. She was there. My father, he killed her. In front of me.” I swallowed. The bile rising in my throat.

  Elian let out a noise and fell to his knees. His hands in his hair, he pulled and he pulled.

  “Amelia,” he groaned, and I lost him.

  He cracked.

  Into.

  Pieces.

  I watched Elian lose his mind.

  So I told him about his sister. All the horrible, horrible things that for him had been guesses.

  I gave him the truth.

  My memories.

  My long kept secrets.

  And it killed him.

  All over again.

  I was killing him.

  “No. No. Not Amelia. Not you.” He was out of his mind.

  He had snapped.

  Then he got to his feet and ran out of the house. I followed him. The devil on his heels.

  He had pulled out his phone and held it up, staring at the dark screen.

  “She’s calling again! I can’t talk to her! Not now!” I watched the phone in his hand. No ringing. All was silent.

  I wasn’t the only one who had found comfort in ghosts.

  In memories.

  “Are you going to answer it?” I asked him. I would play his game. In his brokenness, it was all he had left. He needed it. It anchored him. Just as he anchored me.

  “I can’t. She can’t know! What would she say if she knew I was out here with you.” He shook his head, his quiet phone gripped in his hand. Out here in the woods where my monster had come to play, Elian’s demons had found him waiting and eager.

  He was a man who had lost everything.

  Alone.

  He was so, so perfect in his mad, mad sanity.

  “Who’s calling, Elian?” I asked him.

  Knowing the answer.

  His mind split open. Fracturing. Lucidity lost.

  He stared at his phone. “She won’t stop calling.”

  I moved beside him and put my hand on his arm. He flinched but didn’t pull away. I leaned up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his neck. Over his wounds.

  The visible ones.

  I tasted the scars that I couldn’t see.

  “Tell me who she is, Elian.”

  He melted into my mouth. Into my hands.
He gave me all of him. Absolutely everything.

  He had nothing.

  Nothing left.

  “Amelia,” he whimpered, dropping the phone onto the ground.

  The ringing went on and on that only he could hear.

  “Has Amelia called back?” I asked Layna. She was driving us home. Was it home? Where was home?

  I knew nothing.

  I saw everything.

  It had all gone black.

  “Answer the phone, Elian!”

  She was angry with me. I hated it when Amelia was angry. She said hurtful things when she was in pain.

  Her calls had been a comfort. They helped me get through hard times. I spent time with Amelia in the soft quiet of home.

  It felt good knowing she was there…always there.

  But she wasn’t. Amelia James was gone.

  “She hasn’t called back, Elian. Rest. Sleep. We’ll be home soon.”

  Home.

  Home.

  She was taking me home.

  Layna.

  I felt myself recoil at the thought of her name. Layna. I wanted to scream.

  Layna.

  The face of my angel. The eyes of my terror.

  She had seen it all.

  She had seen Amelia. She knew Amelia. What he had done to her. She had been with her at the end.

  At the end…

  I want to talk to you, Elian. I miss you…

  No! I wouldn’t answer the phone. Never again. Amelia wasn’t there! She was gone. I knew that.

  So why was I letting myself believe in the lie?

  It was safer to be with her than without her. In her nonexistent company I could stop pretending.

  “You threw out all the pills, didn’t you, Elian?” Layna was asking. The pills? Why is she always asking about the pills? Hadn’t we already talked about this?

  “Turn the phone off. The ringing hurts my ears!” I demanded.

  “Okay, I’ll turn it off.” Her hands never left the steering wheel. She was lying. Layna was lying all the time.

  She had seen Amelia.

  She knew.

  How did she find me? How did she know where I was?

  Layna.

  Amelia.

  Going home.

  “Where did she go?” I yelled, beating my fists against the dashboard. Muddled thoughts. Convoluted dreams. They were all mixing together. I couldn’t see the truth for the deceptions.

  “I used to watch you in Denny’s with Tate. I’d sit in my booth every day and watch you talk. Watch you laugh. Watch you smile. And I knew it was all fake. It wasn’t you. I wanted to know why you lied.”

  What was she talking about? I rubbed my temples. My head ached. Ached all over.

  “I knew where to find you, Elian. Amelia was Daddy’s. But you—you were meant to be mine. I wanted you to belong just to me. So I found you. I found you, Elian. Right where you were supposed to be.”

  I was crying. Tears thick and hot fell from dead, dead eyes.

  Don’t waste your tears, Elian! I told you that!

  “I’m not wasting them! I promise!” I argued.

  “It’s okay, Elian,” Layna said, and I believed her. It was okay.

  Even if I wasn’t.

  “Was she in pain?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I shuddered.

  “Was she scared?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you scared?”

  Silence.

  Layna didn’t answer.

  Talk to me, Elian!

  “Not right now, Amelia.” But I made a promise to. Later.

  “Are you talking to her?” Layna asked.

  “Who?” I closed my eyes and wanted to sleep. To wish this all away.

  “I want to set you free, Elian. Do you want that too?” Layna’s quiet, quiet voice tickled my ears. Wrapped itself around my chest. Squeezing.

  “I just want to stop the noise. Take me home,” I sighed.

  I was crashing to the ground at top speed. There was no safety net. The impact would kill me.

  I was already dead.

  There was no Elian Beyer.

  Elian James had slipped away.

  Who was I now?

  Nobody.

  Ring around the rosy…

  “A pocket full of posies,” I sang.

  “Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down,” Layna carried on. Taking the nursery rhyme. It wasn’t mine anymore.

  Hers.

  “I thought that when I left Pennsylvania I could leave it all there. Where it belonged. I became someone else. Why did you have to take him away?” I asked her. I wanted to know.

  “You deserve more than a life full of untruths, Elian. And you know it.” Layna sounded angry.

  “Tell Amelia that you’re with me now. Tell her to stay away,” she insisted.

  Why would I tell Amelia anything?

  Amelia was gone.

  You let me leave, Elian. You let me go with him. You could have stopped me. You could have kept me safe.

  The guilt was clawing at my gut. It hurt. I had thought I had dealt with it.

  I had put it away in small, compartmentalized pieces never to be revisited.

  But then Layna…

  “Shh, don’t say that!” I exclaimed.

  “Don’t say what?” Layna asked.

  I wasn’t talking.

  Not to her.

  “I was a child. How could I have stopped you if you wanted to leave?”

  He killed me. He slit me open. He let me bleed. And she saw it all. You’re beautiful, beloved Layna. She watched me die!

  “Stop it!” I shrieked, covering my ears.

  “Elian! What is it?” I heard Layna’s voice as though from a distance. So far away. Not close enough.

  “Layna!” Her name was a plea. A desperate, horrible plea.

  “We’re almost home, Elian. Then I’ll take care of you. I’ll make it better. I promise. I’ll set you free.”

  Home.

  Almost there.

  The dark, dark room. Layna standing in the center of it, looking around. I couldn’t go in. I knew without being told exactly what this place was.

  “Amelia. She was there. My father, he killed her. In front of me.”

  That was the moment when the last semblance of the man I had been crumbled into dust.

  Because she had seen. She had seen it all.

  Layna’s being in my life seemed like a cruel, cruel joke.

  I loved her.

  I hated her.

  How could I ever look at her again and not see the memories in her coal, black eyes?

  Layna was speaking. Unintelligible mumblings.

  You were a little boy, Elian. I shouldn’t blame you. It’s not fair.

  “No it’s not,” I agreed. Nodding my head. I looked out at the passing landscape. Blurs of color. Not seeing.

  Layna was quiet. Driving. Driving home.

  He watched me in my front yard. I could see him parked across the street. I recognized the car. I had seen it a lot during the last few weeks.

  Every day.

  I saw Amelia talking to him. The way she smiled. I heard her laugh.

  “What are you staring at, runt?” Amelia teased. Sounding firm.

  “Who is that?” I asked, pointing at the car that still sat there. Unmoving. In front of our house.

  Mom and Dad never saw it. They were never home. Just Amelia and me.

  And her many, many secrets.

  “He’s special,” she smiled. Waving. He waved back.

  Then he drove away. Having gotten what he came for.

  “Go to sleep, Elian. Then when you wake up we’ll be there.” Layna coaxed me to sleep. Into oblivion.

  It’s what she did best.

  Hours.

  Days.

  They all blended together.

  And through it all I heard her.

  Her dead, dead voice. Over and over again in my head.

  Layna didn’t stay. She left me alone.
<
br />   I cried when she left but she went anyway.

  “I’ll be back soon.” Promises. Empty, forgotten promises.

  She left me by the quarry. In the sun. But I couldn’t feel it on my skin. I was cold.

  “Talk to me, Amelia! Please!”

  I knew she’d come when I needed her. She’d been doing it for years.

  Layna. Amelia. Layna.

  Blending together.

  Little, Elian. Tiny, little Elian. Always running. Never getting anywhere.

  She mocked me. I could hear the teasing. But what she said was true.

  I tried to run so far and so fast but I never escaped. The past kept finding me.

  Amelia kept finding me.

  When would it be over?

  I was so tired. Bone weary. Exhausted. I was sick of running. Layna said I should stop. That she could free me of it all. I wanted to let her. It would be so easy to give in.

  And I wanted her. My Layna. But never really mine.

  I missed her.

  She had left me alone with the voice of my long dead sister. My only company.

  She said she’d be back. But would she? Maybe she left for good.

  I couldn’t bear the thought.

  Layna was my breath.

  She was my heartbeat.

  She was never ending.

  On and on.

  Forever.

  She had kissed me softly. Deeply. I had pushed my tongue into her mouth. Trying to take. Just this once. But she never let me. Only parts. What she thought I should have.

  “I’ll be back,” she promised. Empty, forgotten promises.

  “Amelia,” I whispered. The wind picked up her name and carried it away. To wherever she was.

  Posttraumatic stress. That’s what I had been told.

  Posttraumatic collapse was more like it.

  I stumbled my way into the house. It was filthy.

  Like Layna’s house.

  I imagined Amelia as Layna described her. Terrified. Tied to a chair. Her blood everywhere. I tried to picture Layna as she had once been. A little girl, no more than eight, watching her father do the most despicable of things.

  That changes a person. Completely.

  It traumatizes them.

  They are altered forever.

  I wondered how Layna was before. Before her father destroyed her.

  Did she ever have a chance?

  I didn’t think so.

  That made me love her so much more.

  That made me fear her all over again.

  Layna.

  My Layna.

  But not really mine.

  All your fault…