by Kelley York
Evan was calmer, for one. Vivian shifted around a lot, toyed with her hair, fussed with the hem of her shirt or shorts. She rolled to one side and the other. But Evan was still and tranquil and even when he did shift it was a slow, easy process. He was at ease there, comfortable in his own skin. Something Vivian never was.
Neither was he, for that matter, and maybe that was the biggest difference between lying with Viv and lying with Evan: himself. He felt relaxed, once the initial edginess ebbed away. But it wasn’t that he didn’t want to be near Evan that made him uneasy. It was that he wanted to move closer. To seek out the warmth of that touchable sun and wrap himself in it, hide his face, breathe in the ocean so strongly permeating the air around them.
When the movie ended, Archer hadn’t stopped thinking about it. He glanced over and Evan’s eyes were closed, his breathing deep and level. And he told me not to fall asleep… Rolling to his side left no more than an inch or two between them. He picked up the remote and turned off the TV. Darkness swallowed the room save for the moonlight sweeping in through the windows and open doors.
“Evan,” he whispered. “The movie is over.” Evan made a small noise, turning his face more into his pillow. The couch was empty and waiting, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. The longer he laid there, the heavier his body felt. It felt nice, being this close to Evan’s warmth.
Maybe he would stay where he was. Just for tonight.
Saturday, October 11th
Archer woke up with Evan in his face. He inhaled so quickly he damned near choked on his tongue.
“You sleep like a rock,” Evan said, singsong, while Archer pushed himself to his elbows. The doors were closed, but the room was still freezing. Evan stood at his beside, already dressed in jeans, sweatshirt, jacket, and a smile. Archer blinked blearily, pushing a hand through his hair.
“What time is it?”
“Almost ten.” He cocked his head toward the clock on the table next to the couch. Not that the couch had been used last night…but if Evan didn’t want to comment on it, Archer wouldn’t either.
How had he slept until ten? Evan’s cruise-thing left soon. Meaning, he needed to move his ass or they’d miss it. He sat up with a groan, swinging his legs out from under the covers—when had he gotten under them?—and forcing himself out of bed. “Right, right… I’m up.”
He made quick work of dressing; jeans, long-sleeved shirt, jacket…which Evan grabbed the hood of when he made to leave the room. “We’re gonna be on a boat, you’ll freeze,” he insisted, until Archer grudgingly put on a second shirt.
They skipped breakfast to make it to the pier ten minutes before the boat’s scheduled departure and, thankfully, it wasn’t sold out. Evan kept his promise and let him pay.
The second they were on deck, the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees; he didn’t want to admit it was a good idea Evan had talked him into an extra layer of clothing. He huddled in on himself, following after Evan, who didn’t seem concerned with freezing to death. It was a small boat for a small tour group. He clutched at Evan’s arm briefly when they pulled away from the dock, unsteady on his feet.
Evan grinned at him. “Didn’t you grow up around here? Haven’t you ever been a boat?”
“Shut up,” he ground out, waiting for the initial sweep of nausea to pass.
The boat slid effortlessly away from harbor, and Archer managed to find his sea legs and relax enough to let Evan go. Moisture tickled his face if he leaned out over the ledge enough for the spray to kick up at him. Water stretched out into oblivion, and every foot from land was another knot of tension slipping away. Little by little, carried off by the wind.
This was the farthest he’d ever been from home. From his mother, from Vivian.
Evan grabbed his hand, snapping him out of his daze. “Look!”
Archer craned his head to follow Evan’s gaze. Something briefly broke the surface of the water and disappeared again. Evan stepped back from the edge to draw Archer in front of him, hands placed on the railing on either side of Archer’s body. Not an embrace, but he knew they would have gotten stares had everyone not been so fixated on the water.
Evan leaned in. The heat of him at Archer’s back was beautiful in comparison to the cold air. The whisper against his ear sent an odd little shiver straight down his spine.
“Wait for it…”
Moments later, no less than a dozen fins sliced through the water again, up and down, trailing right alongside the boat in perfect unison. Dolphins. A few spouted water when they surfaced. One leapt through the air in a smooth arc and dove with barely a splash. Their tour guide went on about something over the speakers, but Archer didn’t pay it any attention. His focus was on the dolphins, on Evan’s kidlike excitement. And trying not to growl at the people crowding in all around them for a better look. Evan’s arms on either side of him gave him some distance.
“Aren’t they amazing?” Evan said.
There was definitely a strange beauty in watching them. A sense of tranquility. Archer resisted the urge to lean back. “No whales.”
“That’s all right. I could watch this for hours.”
“You might someday,” he pointed out. The idea of Evan graduating, heading off on some boat for weeks at a time…it made his chest constrict. “Would you let me visit?”
“On my metaphorical boat on a metaphorical research trip?” Evan laughed. “You could go with me any time you wanted. Get away from the mainland, away from life.”
The idea of it… Leaving behind the stresses of everyday existence, of checking for texts and voice mails, listening to lashing tongues go on and on about everything he did wrong… To get away and never look back, disappearing on the horizon of an ocean he loved?
He ached with the idea of it.
“I’d like that.”
It would never happen, no matter how much he wanted it.
§
Regaining his land legs was trickier than finding his sea ones. Archer kept ahold of Evan’s arm as they got off the boat and he relearned how to walk.
“Not a single whale,” he muttered, casting a look at the Whale Watching Tours sign hanging over the ticket building. Evan helped him along, trying not to smile.
“It’s okay, I promise. We’ll come back and do it again sometime. Maybe we’ll have better luck. Honestly, I’m glad we saw anything.”
Archer hmph’d and straightened up. He took a few tentative steps and released Evan’s arm. “Was there anything else you wanted to do?”
“I picked the tour.” Evan shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Your turn to choose. Wherever you wanna go.”
He frowned. Normally he went wherever people led him. He went shopping with Vivian, no matter how ungodly boring it was. He went to The Grove when whined at. He went to the video game contest because Evan had asked.
When was the last time he’d decided where to go with someone? If he had to pin it down, probably the beginning of his senior year when Marissa had him pick a place to go for his birthday.
Marissa.
He thought back to her in the hospital, stuck staring at a television for hours on end. He thought of the dresser in her bedroom, decorated with dolphins everywhere. Snow globes, pictures, glass figurines…
“Shopping?” He peered down the boardwalk before them, lined with stores. “I thought I might pick something up for someone.” Archer didn’t miss the brief flash of uncertainty on Evan’s face. The way his shoulders hunched up made him quickly add, “For Vivian’s mother. She’s been in the hospital.”
Evan relaxed a little, following alongside him. “Are you two close?”
“Closer than me and my own mother,” he admitted.
“She gonna be okay?”
“No.” Archer didn’t believe anyone who said otherwise. Marissa had only gotten worse. He’d hoped after Brody’s death, she might improve a little, but obviously that wasn’t the case. The idea that killing Brody might’ve made her worse struck him like a knife
in the chest. He halted in his tracks and sucked in a breath. Evan stopped, frowning.
“What’s wrong?”
What if I made it worse? What if the stress is what put her back in the hospital?
He pushed his trembling hands into his pockets, struggling to rein in his stampeding heart. He needed to sit down. He wondered if he’d packed that little bottle of pills among his ten pairs of unneeded socks.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Seriously, you got really pale all of a sudden.” Evan lifted a hand. It came close to touching Archer’s face, but fell away just shy of it. “Maybe you’re seasick. We could head back to the hotel.”
“No.” Archer took a deep breath. The cold air soothed him like some salt-scented sedative. Desperately, he tried to hang onto the here and now rather than what waited for him back home. Here he was, here Evan was—trying so hard to make him happy. Archer screwed up too many things in his life; this wouldn’t be one of them.
“No,” he repeated, softer. “I’d really like to get her a present. Then we can head back if you want.” When Evan’s worried frown deepened, Archer forced his mouth into a small smile. It felt awkward on his face, like it didn’t fit. “Honestly. I’m fine.”
Evan sighed, but his features smoothed out. He slung an arm around Archer’s shoulders and began to lead him toward the shops. “Why don’t I believe you?”
Because, Archer thought, you’re smarter than most.
§
They ordered in again, but this time brought their food out onto the back deck overlooking the beach. The patio chairs were pushed closer together, with the small round table between them so the food could be shared. Good food, good company, and a beautiful sunset glittering off the water meant Archer could keep his mind off Vivian, and off the little glass dolphin sitting atop the dresser waiting to go home to Marissa.
Evan disappeared inside for a few minutes and when he returned, it was with two glasses and a bottle of wine. Archer raised a brow. “How’d you even get that?” Evan was his age, and there wasn’t a place around that wouldn’t check for ID.
He grinned sheepishly. “There’s a mini-bar in the room. They’ll just charge it to my account when we leave. You want some?” Archer wasn’t a drinker. The idea of getting drunk, willingly screwing with his ability to make coherent decisions, never made sense to him. He eyed the bottle warily. Evan sank down into his chair. “You don’t have to. Just…remember you don’t have anything to worry about tonight.”
Nothing to worry about. Not Vivian. Not his mother. Nothing.
Archer sighed. “Only a little.” Evan handed him a glass and he held it up, watching the diminishing light play tricks along the surface of the liquid much like it did on the ocean.
Evan held up his own glass. “To vacations and relaxation.”
“To cliché toasts and underage drinking.”
It tasted warm all the way down, but it was better than some of the other crap he’d tried over the years. Vivian could down shots of whiskey and rum like no one else, but he hated it.
They lapsed into silence again, soaking up the remaining heat as the temperature steadily dropped. Archer finished off his drink, let his eyes drift close, and could’ve gone to sleep like that. He could feel Evan watching him. The silence was suddenly heavy.
“What is it?”
Evan hesitated. “Did you know a cop stopped by my apartment the other day?”
Archer’s eyes flew open. He set his glass aside to keep from dropping it. “Detective Patterson?”
“That’s the one.” Evan leaned back. His gaze roamed out over the water. Archer was grateful to avoid eye contact for the time being. “He wanted to ask about our run-in with that Richter guy at the mall.”
“Yeah.” What had Evan told him? Did the detective now know he’d lied about staying there overnight? Had he even asked? Was he even a suspect?
“I told him we only said hello in passing.” Evan shrugged. “…And that you were with me all night.”
A mixed blessing. His alibi was confirmed now in the eyes of the police, but Evan knew he’d lied. And that he might’ve had a reason for lying. More than that, he hated the idea that Evan was now a part of his screw-up because he’d lied for him. His fingers dug painfully into the arms of the chair. He ought to say something, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know what to say.
“Where’d you go after you left my place, Archer?” That voice…so deceptively soft and gentle. More curious than worried or afraid. Shouldn’t he be afraid? If he thought Archer was a murderer, why bring him all the way out here? And how did he answer? He could lie. Say he went home, fell asleep… But it wouldn’t have answered the question ‘why would you lie about it to a cop?’ He couldn’t get his tongue to cooperate.
Evan exhaled. “Okay. Then tell me this… Do you know why someone would kill him?”
That he could answer. “Drugs. Money.” He kept his gaze straight ahead, willing the tremor from his hands. It didn’t work. “He was a useless human being. You said yourself—he’s not exactly a saint.”
“That doesn’t mean I think he deserved to die.”
“He hurt people…”
“How?” Evan pressed. “How did he hurt people, Archer? What did he do that made him such a monster he deserved to die?”
“He hurt Vivian,” he snapped, rising from his chair. “Him and his fucking friends… They touched her and they screwed her and Brody sat there and laughed, all right?” And nobody knew. Nobody knew because there’d been no proof and it was Brody’s word against Vivian’s, and it seemed so cruel that no one wanted to believe a couple of teenage boys would do such a thing to a little girl.
The patio felt too enclosed. He had to get away.
The sand was icy beneath his bare feet as he moved away from the cottage. There was no one to be seen in either direction, and the darkness was rolling in fast now, the sun a single orange-yellow sliver on the horizon. He stopped at the edge of the water, letting the stinging tide lap at his feet.
Evan followed, but stopped a few feet behind him. He said nothing. Maybe he didn’t know what to say; maybe he was angry or horrified. Maybe in Evan’s eyes, he was the monster for taking a life. But he didn’t—couldn’t—understand. He hadn’t seen Vivian after the fact. The bruises where they held her down, the dead look in her eyes… If he had, maybe he’d get it.
“Will you tell me what happened?” So soft it was nearly lost under the sound of the tide.
Archer turned, squinting through the hair the breeze kept brushing into his eyes. “Why should I?”
“Because I asked.” Evan stared at him. “And because I deserve to know why I lied for you.”
Archer’s chest hurt. His head hurt. He hugged himself and turned away again. His secrets were his. Not to be shared, because no one would understand. But Evan had lied for him, possibly condemned himself to consequence if the truth of Richter’s death ever came out. Yeah, he owed it to him.
“…When we were kids, Marissa, Viv’s mom, went out of town for a few weeks on a business trip. Brody was older, he was left in charge.” Never mind he was a complete moron. Even Archer had to admit, back then he hadn’t been that bad. “He threw a party. Nothing big, just a group of his buddies. They got plastered, wasted, fucked up—whatever.
“Vivian told Brody she was going to tell on him to their mom. Some of the guys thought the key to her silence was taking her hands and shoving them down their pants. Taunting her with threats to tell her mom she liked it. They found it funny. It escalated from there. And Brody just…sat there. Sat there and laughed like seeing his sister raped was no big deal.”
Archer fell silent, partly trying to steady his nerves, partly trying to gauge Evan’s reaction. He wished he could find the words to articulate that killing Brody and his friends would never make him feel as guilty as failing to protect Vivian had.
The silence wasn’t very telling, so he continued.
“
I kept her at my place the rest of the week until her mom got home. She was…God, she was…broken. If you’d seen her… It was the worst week of my life. She didn’t want to leave the house. She couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat. I had to force her to tell her mom. She was afraid if she did, Brody’s friends would do it all over again. By then, though…there was nothing. No evidence. The bruises were already gone. Of course Brody denied it and tried to turn it around on us, saying he caught Viv sneaking me into her room at night or something like that.”
Evan didn’t speak, but he stepped closer. Archer could feel the warmth at his back.
“Marissa was the only one who believed Viv. She kicked Brody out of the house. Tried getting Vivian to therapy for awhile, but she refused to go.”
“Richter was one of the guys,” Evan murmured.
“Yes.” His voice wavered. “If you’d seen her… She was such a sweet girl. Never wanted to hurt anyone, never wanted anything but to be mommy’s little girl. Before that night, the only person she ever wanted was me. Afterward, everything changed. She changed.” He clutched at his chest. Wanted to dig his fingers in and claw out his heart to stop it from aching. “Nothing I did was ever good enough. Like she couldn’t look at me because I knew what happened to her.”
Evan circled around to stand in front of him. Archer couldn’t meet his eyes. Not when his own blurred over and his entire body shook with the bottled-up fury. He’d kept it shoved so deep down, and Evan had no right to make him dig it all up again.
No. Not his fault. No one makes me do anything I don’t want to.
A hand touched his shoulder. Then lifted to his cheek, brushing back some of the hair from his face. Evan’s fingers were warm even while the rest of Archer shuddered in the cold.
“You did everything you could for her, Archer.” The hand on his face prompted him to lift his chin and meet Evan’s eyes whether he liked it or not. “But you can’t help her if she doesn’t want to be helped. You can’t hurt other people; it’s wrong no matter what angle you look at it from. And you sure as hell can’t kill yourself trying to make her happy forever.” His eyes were nothing but concern. Nothing like Vivian’s or his mother’s… There was no cold distance. No reluctance.