by Kelley York
“What, that he’s dead?”
Archer nodded. She looked askance at him, brows drawing together. “I don’t know. I guess so. He’s just one out of the group, though I guess one is better than none.”
He perked up, taken back to the day of Jay’s death when Vivian had stared up at him with wide eyes, a mixture of frightened and in awe that one of her rapists was dead. Killing Brody didn’t make everything better, of course. Brody was there, sure, but he hadn’t been the one to hurt her. That crime lay on the heads of his friends. If he found the last two and killed them, she would be free. Really free.
Archer dropped the subject and tried to hang on to his renewed hope.
§
They ate dinner at a place about thirty minutes from The Grove, Archer intent on not running into anyone they knew. Vivian ordered lobster, like she always did. No surprise there. Afterward, he took her downtown, where they wandered the streets and the mall. When they passed by Fly’s, Archer couldn’t help the stab of guilt. He needed to call Evan, but he couldn’t get past feeling bad. He wanted things to go well with Vivian so he could prove she was trying, she was getting better. Even if he was scared to believe it himself.
Vivian took his hand and tugged him away from the arcade to a nearby jewelry shop, oohing over a pair of earrings. Archer couldn’t see anything special about them. “Don’t you already have enough diamonds?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “A girl can never have too many diamonds.”
He managed to lure her away with the promise of ice cream without her splurging on jewelry she’d undoubtedly lose. It wasn’t until she had a vanilla ice cream cone in her hands and they were heading outside that she surprised him with, “So, what’s going on with you and Evan?”
Hello, out-of-nowhere. Archer frowned. “What do you mean?”
Viv ran her tongue over the ice cream and licked her lips. “You went out of town with him last weekend. And you weren’t returning my calls. Either you left your phone at home, or you were awfully busy.” She kept her gaze straight ahead, tone calm.
And this conversation felt very déjà-vu of his call with Evan the other day. He grimaced. “Phone was at home. We just…wanted to get away for a few nights.” When Vivian turned and stared at him, he could feel the heat creeping into his face.
“So you two are…like…an item?”
The familiar little tendrils of tension were creeping up between his shoulder blades, but he wasn’t sure why. What reason did he have to be defensive over that question? “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t deny it, either.”
“He’s a good friend, Vivian. Is that bad?”
“No, no.” She took another bite of her dessert. “Just weird. Not weird that you have a friend, weird because…well, okay, it is weird that you have a friend. You don’t usually do well with people that aren’t me.”
“Evan’s different. There’s something about him…hard not to like.” What embarrassed him more, the way Vivian was staring at him or having to admit something like that?
Viv’s eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. “That’s good. I worry about you not having enough friends, so…yeah. It’s a good thing.”
Archer didn’t know why she felt the need to say it like she had to convince him. He knew that. But the way she took hold of his hand and didn’t let go, he started to wonder if she really did.
“You know…” She chucked the remainder of her ice-cream cone in a nearby trash can. “Instead of going to a movie, let’s order something at your place,” she said. Immediately, a knot formed in his stomach. Something wasn’t right. He stopped walking and looked at her. Vivian met his gaze easily, leading his hand up to her face. Her skin was impossibly soft beneath his fingers.
This wasn’t right at all. This kind of charm…it was what she put on when she wanted a guy’s attention. Not his, though. Never his. But damn her, it had the desired effect. His pulse thrummed and he was definitely thinking things he knew he shouldn’t. It made his eyes drop down to her throat, lower to her chest. Vivian tugged on his hand.
“Please?”
No. No, no, no. Bad idea. He swallowed hard and thought of Evan, thought about the ocean and sunsets on the beach. He thought of Vivian standing there, doing nothing, while Mickey tossed him out of the apartment.
“There’s nothing good playing that we can watch from home,” he lied. Well, maybe it was a lie; he didn’t honestly know what was playing. “I thought you really wanted to see that horror movie at the theater?”
Vivian leaned back and stared at him, brows lifting. At first, he expected her to argue and press him further. But eventually she sighed and let her arms drop, though she kept hold of his hand. “Okay, okay. Let’s go before we’re late.”
Archer exhaled. Possible crisis diverted. Was it a crisis? Isn’t this what I wanted? Vivian’s undivided attention and affection. To welcome the possibilities being alone with her would bring. It wasn’t the situation he was afraid of; it was what would happen after.
But for now, he didn’t have to worry about it. He and Vivian went to the theater up the street, and she didn’t once let go of his hand.
The list. He needed to finish the list. Neither of them would ever be free until he did.
Saturday, October 18th
“Never heard anything back from that cop, huh?”
Evan shifted beside him on their blanket. Archer stared up at the sky, wondering how likely it was to start raining. It was getting too cold to relax on the beach without his shoes, and he almost wished he’d brought a second blanket.
“No, nothing.”
They hadn’t spoken about it since their weekend away. Evan hadn’t pushed the issue, hadn’t asked further questions, and Archer sure as hell wasn’t going to offer information.
“You don’t think they found anything there, do you?” Evan sat up, leaning on his hands. His face came into Archer’s line of view, worried brown eyes coaxing a small smile from him. He wanted to take a finger and smooth out that frown.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. DNA, fingerprints, whatever it is they look for.”
“I doubt it.” Archer let his eyes trace the lines of Evan’s features. He stared at his mouth, contemplating how to get him to smile again. Worry was unnecessary. “They would’ve taken someone into custody if they found anything like that and had a match for it.”
“How do you know they haven’t?” Evan’s expression softened.
If they did, they have the wrong guy. “Just a feeling.”
This game they were playing…it was stupid. Evan had to know for sure by now he was Richter’s murderer. If he didn’t, he was in denial. Still, it was the elephant in the room neither of them wanted to point out.
Evan sat back and stared out over the water. “Do you think anyone else will die?”
Archer sighed, running a hand over his face. “People die all the time, Evan.”
“You know what I mean.”
Yes, he did. Are you going to kill anyone else? A lie would’ve been the best response, but he couldn’t. “I don’t know. If they do, I’m sure they deserve it.” It wasn’t like he had a choice. Vivian needed this, and he’d sworn years ago to go through with it no matter what. Richter’s death still had him shaken up enough that he just wasn’t sure how to go about dealing with Hector and Bobby.
Archer pushed himself to his elbows when he was met with silence. Evan had drawn his legs up, chin propped atop his knees.
“What is it?”
And, as per usual, Evan seemed to shove whatever he really wanted to say aside and smiled at him instead. “It’s getting dark. Should we head back?”
“Your place or mine?”
Evan shrugged. “More to do at my place. No offense, but yours is kind of boring.”
Archer smiled wryly. Truth. And unlike with Vivian, he had no anxiety about being alone with Evan. In fact, he preferred it. It was how they’d ended up wandering down the b
each, away from The Grove, and camping out for the last two hours with their rolled-up jackets for pillows.
Evan shook out their blanket and draped it around Archer’s shoulders. “You always get cold so easily. Maybe you’re meant for desert weather.”
“I don’t think so.” Still, he huddled into the fabric and held it around himself while they trekked up the beach for the parking lot. Evan turned on the heat as soon as the engine was going. Archer leaned back and relaxed. There’d been a point in time where he hated letting other people drive, but with Evan it wasn’t so bad.
Halfway home, his phone beeped. He started to go for his pocket, stopped, and forced himself to ignore it. This was his time with Evan. Nobody else needed to matter. Not ten seconds later, it beeped again. And again. Archer ignored it. On the eighth or ninth beep, Evan finally laughed. “Oh, goddamn. Just answer it.”
“No,” he growled stubbornly. Vivian knew he was out with Evan. She didn’t need to bother him. “I’ll turn it off.” He pulled out his phone to do so, and it progressed from insistent text messages to an incoming call. Archer set his jaw, staring at Viv’s name across the screen.
“It’s fine, man,” Evan said. “Go ahead.”
His calmness in the matter made Archer all the more irritated at Vivian. He didn’t bother to hide it when he answered with, “What?”
Vivian’s voice was so loud on the other end he had to hold it away from his ear. It took her a few tries before she could speak.
“The hospital… It’s Mom…”
Every nerve in his body froze. What about her? he wanted to ask, but couldn’t. He couldn’t stomach what she might say. “Are you at the hospital now?” She managed a barely audible ‘yes.’ “I’ll be there.” He hung up without saying good-bye and stared down at the screen. “I need to get home.”
There were no questions, no sidelong looks. Evan simply made a turn at the next intersection. “That’d be a waste of time. Let’s go.”
§
Archer didn’t look for Vivian when he got off the elevator on Marissa’s floor. He headed straight down the hall with Evan at his back. Passing by the tiny lobby near Marissa’s room, he heard Viv’s voice and halted.
She stood up from her seat, wiping her eyes, looking much the same as she had the last time he saw her there. Puffy-eyed, barely holding herself together. Her arms went around his neck, and she clung to him for dear life. If she noticed Evan, she didn’t acknowledge his presence. Archer hugged her stiffly. “What’s going on?”
She shook her head, silent through her tears for a few minutes. A nurse in green scrubs stepped around the corner from the direction of Marissa’s room. “Are you Ms. Hilton’s son?”
He faltered. “What?”
“Yes, this is Archer.” Vivian drew back, trying to mop up her tears.
The nurse turned sympathetic eyes to Archer and Vivian both. Her voice was soft. “I’m really sorry I don’t have better news. Her heart’s giving out. We’ve managed to bring her back twice now, but it’s…getting harder.”
Vivian made a noise, turning to press her face against his shoulder, hiding there.
“At this point, I think we’re only prolonging her suffering.” The nurse looked between them, obviously waiting for them to say something. To ask questions, perhaps. To ask what they should do. But Archer was too numb. Utterly, completely numb.
“You want us to let her die?” he whispered.
“It’s never an easy choice,” the nurse said gently. “But this isn’t helping her. I think signing the DNR papers would be in her best interest. Of course, the choice is up to you.”
No, not up to me. I’m not her son. Vivian sobbed against his shoulder. He put an arm around her, stroking her hair. “Viv…”
“I can’t just tell them to let her die,” she managed, jerking her head back to stare at him. She looked so lost, so helpless. He should’ve felt sympathy for her, but he couldn’t feel a damned thing.
She’s my mom, too, he wanted to remind her. He couldn’t make this kind of decision any easier than she could. But more than Marissa’s life, more than her death, Archer couldn’t stomach the idea of her suffering. What would Marissa have wanted?
From around the corner, an alarm went off. Everyone froze. A rush of movement and voices exploded from Marissa’s room, and Archer’s stomach dropped, heart lurching into his throat. The nurse sucked in a breath—“Again?”—and disappeared without a word. Archer untangled himself from Vivian, pushing her away, stumbling forward while she burst into tears.
He tore around the corner for Marissa’s door, silently hoping he’d see the nurses and doctors hurrying into someone else’s room. But there they were, clamoring around Marissa’s bed and with the curtains half-drawn so all he could see were her feet. The alarm sparked sharp and vivid through his nerves like a live wire. A male nurse stepped away from the group, putting a hand to his chest.
“Sir, you can’t come in here.”
No no no. What did that even mean? He had to be in there. Marissa didn’t know these people. She needed him and Vivian. He started to shove the nurse aside but Evan was behind him, arms around him, pulling him back, saying his name again and again.
Someone yelled, “Clear!” The alarm continued. Long, continuous, unbroken.
He couldn’t breathe. His muscles trembled and shook and he sank back, chest heaving. Evan drew him to the wall opposite the door and held him tight, but he didn’t have the energy to struggle. The monitors continued to flatline. One minute. Two.
Until a doctor emerged to tell them Marissa was dead.
Sunday, October 19th
Vivian got into the passenger seat and Archer shut the door for her. Evan lingered near his own car, eyes on the ground. He hadn’t said much. There wasn’t much to say.
“I can’t let her drive home,” he said.
Evan lifted his head. “Are you all right to drive?”
“I’m fine.” He wasn’t, but what choice did he have? They couldn’t leave Vivian’s car in the hospital parking lot, and he wouldn’t let her try to make the trip home alone. For now, at least, he’d forced himself into a quiet state of numbness. “She wants to stay at her mom’s place, anyway.”
Evan nodded. “What can I do?”
Stay with me.
Archer pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, sighed, and straightened up. “It’s a lot to ask…but can you come get me tomorrow? After classes or whenever.”
“Yeah, of course.” Evan brushed a hand over Archer’s shoulder. It was comforting, but not enough. Of all times for him to be hesitant and shy, why now? Now when Archer wanted to be touched and allowed the relief of falling apart? “I need you to do me a favor, too.”
Archer inclined his chin, listening.
Evan’s hand dropped away. “I want you to keep in mind that while it’s good for you to be there for Vivian…you need to think of yourself, too. Don’t overlook that.”
He nodded. But keeping it together was better. Although Marissa had been more of a mother to him than his own, Vivian was her real child. Not him.
He drew away and headed for Vivian’s car, reminding himself that, right then and there, his feelings didn’t matter. There would be a time and a place for his mourning later.
§
Marissa’s garden, at one point, had been so meticulously taken care of and was now infiltrated by weeds and leaves. The potted plants on the front porch were dying or already dead. Everything was dark. Everything lonely and forgotten without Marissa there to breathe life into it.
Vivian disappeared silently upstairs to make a few phone calls. Archer gathered the overflowing mail and papers from outside and checked the fridge. He would need to make sure Vivian ate in the morning, but he’d give her a break tonight. He sure as hell couldn’t eat, so he wouldn’t expect her to, either.
He tossed the newspapers and mail on the dining table where, once upon a time, a hundred games of Monopoly had been played. Marissa always let him be the
race car. It was also the table where Marissa helped them with homework and school projects. Pasting magazine clippings on poster board, trying to decipher long division and algebra.
The same table they sat at when Marissa told them, “’I’m sick.”
Her ghost haunted every corner of the house, every room he entered. Atop the fireplace mantel were images from another life years ago. Vivian’s first steps, first day of school. Out of all the photos of high school dances she’d attended, only one picture had a place there: the one of her and him. The year her date ditched her an hour before prom, and Archer stepped in to save the day.
And, everywhere, pictures of Marissa and her warm smile.
“You were too good for the life you were given,” he murmured into the darkness. Her fucked-up husband and her fucked-up kids…
The ceiling creaked with Vivian’s footsteps. Archer finished locking up the house and headed upstairs. He passed by Brody’s old room, used now for extra storage. Marissa’s room stood across from it, door half-open, and that was where he found Vivian.
Growing up, he never really had reason to be in Marissa’s room except to look at the dolphins. There they all were, lined up in no particular order. Vivian stared at them, face slack. Archer stepped up beside her. There was a lone empty spot amidst all the dolphins. It would’ve been the perfect place to put the one he’d bought for her.
As he tried to think of what to say, Vivian broke the silence. “I called Aunt Nancy and Grandma. They’ll be on a plane in a few hours.”
He nodded. “If you need me to, I can do the rest. Calling people and all that.” Marissa’s friends, mainly. His own mother. Undoubtedly, Vivian’s grandmother and aunt would take care of the family contacts. Most everyone lived out of state and would need time to fly in.
“The house is going to be packed.”
“You don’t need to stay here if you don’t want.” He brushed back some of the hair from her face. “You can stay with me for a few nights.” Bad idea, his mind screamed. But this wasn’t the typical scenario. This wasn’t abusive boyfriends and stupid decisions. This was Vivian losing her mother. This was him losing the woman he thought of as his mother.