Understudy

by Wy, Denise Kim

  "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.

  "You're right. This is my first time," I said, and I almost told him the reason why.

  Eric glanced at me long and hard. The stubble around his jaw made him look older. I had always wondered how Adam would've looked like if he had stopped shaving for a while.

  "Do you believe in ghosts?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "No. Why?" Then he immediately added, "Is that what kept you from coming here? Scared that you might see his ghost?"

  I started laughing. It came in a sudden burst and I tried to stop myself by clamping my mouth shut, but I couldn't. It was like releasing something that was trapped inside my body for so long, and it felt good, like peeing the first thing in the morning when you wake up.

  Eric stared at me nervously. "Look, I don't know what your deal is, but you're scaring the shit out of me."

  And that made me laugh more, because I never thought I was capable of scaring anyone, let alone Eric.

  "You know I actually came here looking for you," I said, in between chuckles. "I came to apologize for what I said back in the gym."

  "Apologize for what? For telling me that I killed my brother?" And there it was, coming from his own lips. "He would've find that funny if he heard that." He lowered his head and his shoulders started shaking.

  Great! I made him cry again, I thought to myself. I took a step closer, thinking if I should pat his back or something. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to−" Then I realized that he wasn't crying.

  He put a hand over his stomach and pulled his head back as he roared in laughter. "I'm sorry," he said, wiping tears from his eyes. "But god! He would've found that funny!"

  And somehow, even though I didn't really find it funny myself, I allowed myself to laugh. Not the fake kind where you do it just so that the other person doesn't feel awkward. But a real laugh, like the outburst I’d had earlier.

  It felt wrong on so many levels. It should've made me angry. My emotions were all jacked up. We were still laughing when a group of mourners passed by. Our laughter slowed down to small giggles, until it eventually died down.

  "Do you miss him?" I said a moment later, when everything got quiet.

  Eric tilted his head back to the sky and sighed. "Yeah, I do. It's weird." Then looking back at me, he added, "But you know what's more weird? Looking at the mirror and seeing his face looking back at me. I have these moments when I'd forget everything, and I'd crack a smile. But then I'd remember that he was never really thrilled about seeing me, since he considered me the harbinger of doom. It's weird having a dead twin brother."

  He was right. Despite the tiredness in his eyes, I saw Adam looking back at me when I looked at Eric. He looked lonely, hurt and alone. "But what if he's not really gone? What if he's still here, somewhere?"

  "I want to believe that, too," he said. "He was the only person who understood me."

  I suddenly felt the urge to reach for his face and tell him that everything was going to be okay. I believed it, and as if having felt it too, Eric smiled. And for the first time since he came into town, it didn't bother me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Eric

  Aside from the wilderness, a high school hallway is the closest thing to a vulture's nest. At least, that's what I thought as I walked down the busy halls on my way to my locker, feeling all eyes hungrily watching my every move. A lot of students missed school all the time, but the way they whispered among themselves, you'd think I committed a crime punishable by death. I found out later that a gossip had spread around that I tried to kill myself. I wasn't sure where that came from, but it sure made my day.

  I punched in my combination, pretended to look around my almost empty locker, grabbed a pen and slammed the door shut, just in time to see Kat walking down the hall with Sara.

  Kat wore a pink shirt that made her cheeks look more alive. And as I watched her, I realized that she never wore any make up, and that I had never seen her wearing skirts or clothes that showed too much skin. Also, she seemed to be always distracting herself with something. It was either her clipboard (which she was staring at now), or her wrist watch.

  She slowly raised her head to nod at something Sara had said. And as she passed by where I stood, our eyes met for a moment, perhaps a second too long. I expected her to look away, she usually did. But not this time. Her eyes crinkled just a little bit, as her lips spread to what I thought might be a smile. It all happened so fast, yet in that small amount of time, I felt a connection between us. Like somehow, the time we spent laughing like maniacs in front of Adam's grave had made us members of a secret group. I just hoped that the cemetery wouldn't become our mutual sanctuary as well. I wondered if she felt the same. Or maybe the smile was just her way of saying hi.

  It was all I could think of as I sat behind her during homeroom and all throughout Calculus. I kept on waiting for her to turn around, maybe ask me something about the leg brace, or how I was feeling. Or maybe I should be the one asking her that.

  But as the hours dragged on, talking to her felt like a monumental task. I found myself staring at her during lunch, watching her every move. I took note of how she would stare unseeingly from time to time, like she was always deep in though. Then she would glance at her watch and frown as if time was moving very slow. As if she had to be somewhere else.

  "Eric, it's your cue."

  I wanted to get to know her more. I wanted to know what made her smile. Because seeing her smile made everything better.

  "ERIC!"

  "What?" My gaze shifted towards the voice beside me. It was Blythe Mansen a.k.a Mrs. Cratchit, my stage mother. I had totally forgotten I was on stage.

  "Right. What's my line again?" I looked around our current setting. We were seated around the table with Bill a.k.a Bob Cratchit at the head and the rest of my stage siblings scattered around. Everybody's eyes were on me, all expectant. And that's when I remembered we were doing the Ch
ristmas dinner scene.

  "Oh yeah. God bless us, every one!"

  Somewhere down the stage, Mr. Blake said, "Let's take five!"

  Everyone stood up from their seats at once, but I opted to stay behind and scan the whole room for Kat. Instead, I saw Sara standing across the table looking down at me with the familiar scowl she always wore around me.

  "Oh, nice to see you, too," I said, giving her a genuine smile.

  "What do you think you're doing?"

  "Taking a break. How about you?"

  "You know what I mean," she said, and when I noticed the way her hands were resting against the edge of the table, I discreetly distanced myself from it for fear that she might flip the whole thing over.

  "Look, I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I want you to stay away from Kat."

  "Why?"

  "Because she doesn't need you."

  "Did she say that?"

  "She doesn't have to."

  "So you're just assuming."

  Sara crossed her arms and bit her lip. "Look, I don't know what your deal is, but keep Kat out of it. You may be Adam's brother but that doesn't give you the right to act as if you give a damn about her."

  "Who said I do?"

  "You’ve been watching her the whole time."

  "So I take it that you were watching me the whole time as well? That's flattering."

  She opened her mouth to speak, but she ended up closing it again as her face turned red with anger. "Look, I don't like you."

  "The feeling is mutual."

  "I don't like you," she repeated. "And I don't think I ever will. But Kat is a good person, and I won't be surprised if a day comes that she'll completely forgive your undeserving ass. But remember this. If you ever hurt her, be it intentional or not, I'm going to kill you with my bare hands."

  "Wow, she's lucky to have a best friend like you."

  "You bet she is." She glared at me one last time and I responded with the friendliest smile I could muster. She left without saying another word.

  It was nice to know that someone cared for Kat that much, and I couldn't help but wonder if such a person existed in my life now that Adam was dead.

  Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Dude, what's that all about?" It was Drake.