Conviction (Wated Series Book 2)

by Lance, Amanda

  Yes, it was more than nice to have a distraction.

  After the standard hugs and ‘good-to-see yous,’ Dad made Robbie regale him with tales of the front line. Nevertheless, as good as it was to see Dad smile, I retreated to the kitchen to fix dinner as soon as I could. I didn’t feel worthy of hearing about Robbie’s adventures or learning about all his friends and near-misses, instead I did what I always did, I set myself to work. Robbie seemed like a good excuse as any to try my lame culinary skills again. The best part about the mission was my clean up. I thought that maybe if I could cook a huge meal, then I’d have some hefty clean up duty afterwards, which would take time away from my thoughts of Charlie. And it wasn’t completely illogical that if I was cleaning up after dinner I could also rearrange the pantry, the pots and pans, wax the floor, clean the refrigerator…I made a mental list for myself of things that could possibly take up my time. It was either that or letting the images take over every time Robbie made a gesture with his hands and shouted, kaboom!

  I cooked ravioli (from scratch), a tortellini and pesto soup, fried zucchini, and baked a cheesecake for dessert. All of this reminded me of Elise and through the hurt, I cut vegetables and let memories of her and I haggling at the farmer’s market take over for just an instant before Polo came to mind. He was a guy who liked the basic things in life, but I thought he might have liked my elaborate cooking attempt.

  My stomach churned with the knowledge that I might never see any of them again; even Elise was looking unlikely at this point. At least I knew they had gotten away safely somewhere. The empty safe and Tyler’s absent diaper bag gave me the reassurance that they were somewhere far away.

  Throughout dinner I chewed mechanically. I counted every chomp, the slice of butter knives, the sips of wine. I did it to stay focused, to keep from being sick, and most of all to keep from crying.

  “What’s with you?” Robbie asked suddenly. “You’ve barely eaten anything.”

  “I have so. You’re just too concerned with yourself to pay any attention.” I stuffed a bite of ravioli in my mouth as if to prove my point, but Robbie smiled his Robbie smile and Dad rolled his eyes.

  Charlie was right.

  I did hate lying.

  “Well, sorry! What have you been up to lately?”

  I shrugged.

  “That’s what I thought.” Robbie continued the rest of the conversation with Dad hanging on his every word. I stared at the clock on the wall. Time suddenly seemed so intimidating. The mere idea of living days, nights, months, and years trying to pretend to be happy, or even just functioning was unbearably painful.

  Charlie had said that some things were worse than death.

  I thought the blackness was one of them and vaguely wondered if death might make it better.

  “I better get started on the dishes—” I stood up but Dad pushed me back down.

  “Hey, you cooked; I think I can handle the dishes.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll help,” Robbie offered.

  “No.” Dad’s voice had the same firmness of our childhood. “You’re on vacation.” He stared me down. “Both of you.”

  So that was it. I wouldn’t even have cleaning as a distraction.

  Robbie found me later at the end of the driveway, waiting for cars and overeager motorcyclists to drive by and whip the hair in my face. It was almost like feeling something, but not quite, which is why I had deemed it a safe activity.

  “Hey, hey.”

  I didn’t say anything, though I knew I probably should. Was I supposed to stress how great it was to see him? To have him back even for a little while? In thinking about it, I had the most sudden urge to make him understand how important he was, that he absolutely had to remain safe. Between the two of us, his life was the only one that had any real hope of turning out. Yet like Dad, I couldn’t say these things to him. I couldn’t even begin to sort them out in my head.

  “Is this pavement taken?”

  I patted the spot beside me.

  “The Old Man is like super stoked about the beach this year, isn’t he?”

  I nodded.

  “School good?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t seem too stoked about it.”

  I shrugged.

  “Okay.” He sighed, rolled his eyes, and leaned back so that his upper half was in the grass but his feet still on the concrete. “What’s your deal?”

  I shook my head. “Deal? No deal.”

  He laughed. “Bull. My little sister would have made several comments about how many times I said ‘stoked’ by now. But you’re not my little sister, you’re like—”

  “Dead.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I mumbled. “Never mind.”

  He leaned back and ripped up pieces from the turf, flicking them in between his fingers and occasionally bringing them to his nose. I tried to imagine not seeing grass for months at a time. I wondered if I’d miss the green, or if after awhile I’d forget it all together.

  “You’re still bummed about getting dumped?”

  I startled. “Dumped? Who said I got dumped?”

  “‘Cause you haven’t mentioned that guy in months and Dad said you’ve been like, real mopey around here.” He shrugged. “Two and two together…”

  I smiled. “And here everyone thinks I’m the smart one.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So you did get dumped?”

  I suppose I had. Charlie had left me for the nothingness—or a version thereof—abandoned me when he promised never to leave again.

  “Not exactly.” I shrugged.

  “Either you did or you didn’t—you know what, it doesn’t even matter. Give me this guy’s name and address so I can go beat the piss out of him.”

  If only that were possible. I almost wanted to laugh. One of my greatest fears the last year was Robbie and Charlie colliding, but I thought if I saw it now I’d weep with glee.

  “You’re supposed to say, ‘beat the sense into him.’”

  “Meh.” He threw a blade of grass at me. “Heartbreak’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “What?” He shrugged. “It is.”

  “No.” I shut my eyes against the setting sun, the remainder of the heat leaving for the cool of the summer night. “Ain’t,” I corrected. “Don’t say that.” I hoped my voice was firm enough to relay that point, but without looking at Robbie, it was hard to tell. “Ever again.”

  I could hear his pause. Like Dad, he was trying to figure out what he had triggered that abrupt change in emotion. Like Dad, he had no idea.

  “Listen, little sister.” He stood and shook the dirt from his pants. “Don’t worry about it. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, right?”

  I kept my eyes shut, firm against what he was saying. I knew for me there would never be another. Was knowing that the worst part, or was living with it for the rest of my life?

  “Robbie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you think there are worse things than death?”

  He didn’t flinch the way I thought he might, but instead rolled his eyes. “Is this about the torture? Because my unit has never done anything—”

  “Never mind, Robbie.” I tried to smile. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

  “Listen.” He sighed. “Normally I wouldn’t say this to a chick—especially my sister—but maybe you need to like, ‘get back up on the horse?’

  I shut my eyes tightly and shook my head. “Please stop talking.”

  “What about that FBI dude?” Robbie gave me a gentle shove at the shoulder. “Dad says he’s pretty sweet on you.”

  “I hate him.”

  I hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, the truth was that I hadn’t even thought them in a complete sentence. But the fact was that I did hate Adam. If it hadn’t been for his nosiness, or maybe his concern…the friendship that made Charlie so jealous, it was entirely possible that Charlie would be with me right then and
there.

  “Okay, okay,” Robbie said, looking at my expression. “No horses or fish for you. But whatever your deal is with the Fed, you better get over it.”

  “Why?” I sighed.

  “Didn’t the Old Man tell you? He invited him to drop the shore house while we’re there.”

  Five days before THE END we went to the shore. Long Branch, to be specific, an area filled with tourists from all walks of life. Women wore skimpy bathing suits and taunted guys loitering outside the arcades. Parking attendants fanned themselves under bright umbrellas, and young children walked around in nothing but sunblock and diapers.

  As usual, Dad was all business driving there, but as soon as we reached the area he relaxed. Robbie seemed to as well. Even so, as the waves came into view, all I could think about was Charlie. I had never said a prayer for him, though I never really believed in a higher power and I suddenly hated, resented the fact that if he died or was already dead, I would have no marker to cry at, no headstone to bring flowers to. It seemed wretchedly unfair. Though I deserved all of life’s sorrows, Charlie deserved to have a final resting place. He deserved to be remembered.

  We had rented the Baybreeze house before, though it was before Mom died and a certain awkward silence came over all of us when we walked in. We all seemed to realize that fact at the same time.

  Robbie finally spoke up: “I forgot all these places are named after cocktails.”

  Dad laughed his fake laugh. “They’re trying to make alcoholics out of all of us.”

  “What else is this place good for?”

  I was not laughing.

  With some encouragement from Robbie, we went to the beach right away, though he ditched me the second something in a bikini went by. I couldn’t really blame him. Life, after all, was for the living. The light hurt my eyes, and my pointy ribs made me self-conscious, feeling even more uncomfortable about revealing my bathing suit in public, I opted instead to go back to the house the second he was out of view, retreating to the loving pages of a good book.

  I tried reading, but like all other things, it had become a pastime that I felt indifference for. I rejected Dad and Robbie’s invitation to explore the boardwalk, saying instead I’d rather walk the beach. When they left I stepped off the porch and stared into the waves. They weren’t California waves, that much was obvious, but they were still beautiful in their own way.

  Two days before THE END, I played miniature golf. I buried my toes in the sand. I saw skydivers drop from the sky. I pretended to be happy.

  The day before THE END, I didn’t bother as much. The sky was gray, promising rain, and though Dad and Robbie were out and about, I stole hours away in a lumpy bed, eyes shut tight. I couldn’t stop thinking about how Charlie would view a place like this, how he would draw the stormy wave, how he would make them look different from the Pacific Ocean. I submerged myself in memories of his smell and taste, thinking that if I could wish for it hard enough, then maybe I could bring them out.

  And when that didn’t work I went straight to a source.

  The boardwalk was crowded, despite the dark weather, and hordes of people gathered to buy tickets for the rides or clamored in and out of stores with flimsy knickknacks for souvenirs. Music boomed at me when I passed one shop, and a gypsy woman offered to read my palm when I passed another. If seemed like an eternity until I found a simple convenience store, and when I did, I didn’t even hesitate to secure my purchase.

  I paid for the cigarettes without incident and was somewhat self-aware that I never would have done that before Charlie had left, before I had met Charlie.

  I took my time walking back to the house. Every few yards, it seemed like kids were fighting about sand castles and pigeons were trying to attack anything reminiscent of food. All of the smiling people and dancing lights made me resentful. How could these people continue to live like this, to laugh, when possibly the greatest guy in the world was gone? Didn’t they at least sense some of the dark that seeped around them, or were they all just better liars than I was?

  How had Dad kept going after Mom died? I remember the sadness, the feeling of general loss in our lives, our routine, but she was still sort of there, in memories and in conversations, her ugly knickknacks, her books on fine arts. I remember there was less of the loss as time went on. There were things to do, and if Mom were around, she’d no doubt be annoyed that people were fawning over her deadness.

  Instinctively, I knew I should feel that way about Charlie, too. But when he left us like that, broken and unsure, there had been no chance to say good-bye. And maybe with his anger, he would want me to hurt this much; especially if he thought I was a cheater, a liar.

  Maybe he would want me to feel the pain of his absence. Did he think this in his last moments? That I’d be sorry, that I’d muffle my cries in self-destruction?

  Somehow, I knew he wouldn’t. And I hated that even more.

  Dad and Robbie showed up not long after I did. Their movements were so quiet, they almost caught me crying over a pack of cigarettes. Except the more I cried, the harder it was to take in the clove scent, and it did little for my memories. The black parasites almost let me feel grateful that Robbie once again had Dad distracted, but when I realized it wasn’t for any good reason, I retreated again, wiping my eyes and joining them in the patio room with their mumbles and serious head nods.

  “What’s up, guys?” I picked up a magazine on fishing so that it covered my face. If they weren’t so bemused they might have noticed.

  “Hey, Addie.” Dad smiled in my direction, but it wasn’t a real smile, and something in the room, heavy, and all too familiar, worked its way over me.

  Robbie said nothing, only stared out at the waves.

  “Dad?”

  “Ah—” he cleared his throat and glanced at Robbie, silently asking for permission, but Robbie didn’t return the look. He just continued to stare out.

  “A friend of Robbie’s was killed overseas.”

  I lowered the magazine, said nothing.

  “Son…” Dad leaned forward in the wicker chair and rested his hand on Robbie’s shoulder. “I am really sorry.”

  “I have to go.”

  “Go?” The panic was in my voice before I could stop it. If Robbie left, then Dad would be stuck with me again, and that wasn’t fair at all.

  “His mom said the memorial is tomorrow. He was from Allentown, so it’s going to be there.”

  “That’s like—four hours away, Robbie.”

  “I have to go.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Dad’s voice had that firm Dad sound again. “If we stop home for a change of clothes, it’s only thirty minutes or so out of the way.”

  Robbie shrugged his hand away, for an instant I thought I saw the glimmer there in his eye, something dark, just beyond sadness. Had my big brother met the parasites, too?

  “I want to go,” Dad insisted. “You shouldn’t have to go alone.”

  Dad’s tone said that was the end of the conversation, and Robbie didn’t seem willing to argue. Instead he spent the remainder of the day in the patio room, brooding over his friend.

  “Addie?”

  “Yes?”

  “You asked me what was worse than losing someone you care about.”

  I nodded.

  “It’s this,” he said, “knowing that you should have been there with them.”

  Chapter 15

  On the day THE END came, it was as sunny and bright as one could expect. I thought the weather was inappropriate for a funeral, but I didn’t know how to make a joke out of it. Dad and Robbie went out early, in-case of traffic. Prior to that, we sat over stale bagels, sipping lukewarm coffee and staring out at the sand. Still too early, the fog prevented any view of the water, and no one other than a few ambitious joggers were running along the sandy roads.

  “I’m sorry about your friend.” I picked off pieces of a sesame seed bagel and dropped them like stones into my coffee.

  “Thanks,” he grumbled. �
��Ryan was a great dude.” Robbie chuckled, and then paused before shaking his head.

  “What?”

  “That asshat had to go and die when I’m on leave? Figures.”

  The bile rose in my throat. “The dead can be pretty selfish.”

  “Ready?” Dad came in the kitchen nook, interrupting Robbie just before he could reply.

  Robbie only nodded and chugged the rest of his coffee in a single gulp. How many mornings had he had that were only rush and go? He was probably so used to it that he didn’t even think about it anymore. Did he think about the dead? The in between? The nothingness? Did Robbie think it was an easy out, too? Despite my own attempts to convince myself otherwise, I knew the dead were selfish; at least unintentionally. If Charlie had loved me at all, he might have thought to try and take me with him…

  “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Robbie was already out the door, but Dad paused, car keys in hand. “You could—”

  “Funerals are not my idea of fun, Dad.” I shrugged. “Besides, I’m capable of entertaining myself for one day.”

  He looked skeptical, rushing over to plant a quick kiss on my forehead, a strange show of affection for him. “We’ll be back tonight.”

  And then they were gone.

  I finished playing with my food and spent minutes watching the morning slowly lift the fog from the beach. It wasn’t until I heard hard steps coming up the patio that I even considered making any moves at all. I heard the steps and the wind chime against the door at the same moment. I didn’t need to look outside to know who it was. Agent Harpsten came with fresh donuts but I didn’t have the energy to point out the cliché.

  “Hi.”

  “Hello.” I was unexpectedly relieved by his appearance, all casual but no sign of any length of stay.

  “Where is everybody?”

  “Funeral.” I left the door open and went back to the table.

  “Funeral?”

  I held up the coffee pot and when he nodded, I took out the French vanilla and coffee filters.

  “Dad didn’t tell you? A friend of Robbie’s died. They went to Pennsylvania for the memorial.”