The Presence

by Shady Grim

  The death of Rachel took a great toll on both of my parents. Their sense of guilt was tremendous. Within the days that we spent looking for Rachel, my parents ceased to be young. It wasn’t a gradual change that came to my attention. It was not the slow onset of age that youthful senses detect and catalog until a level of maturity is reached where such information can be strung together to form a years-long understandable image. It was a sudden unmistakable change that any child could’ve seen. They seemed to go to bed young and awake in the morning as an elderly couple. Their love of life was forever overshadowed by a sense of guilt that refused to be eased. It took away the remainder of their youth as that stranger had taken away Rachel. The refusal of my mother’s sisters to speak to them only added to their burden. Being ostracized from her family took a profound toll on my mother’s health. My father’s passing and the lack of support from her remaining sister was just too much for her to handle. Within a year, she’d followed my father to the grave.

  To think me a rock of strength during these turbulent years couldn’t be further from the truth. I felt the hatred of my aunts, and I saw the slow destruction of my parents. I saw how hollow they became. It took years for their bodies to die, but their souls had died with Rachel. I saw my oldest and dearest friend slip into a life of degradation and imagined his daughter’s future would be the same. My world collapsed into itself, so I built walls to protect myself. I wouldn’t come out, and I allowed no one to come in. Without the guidance of my mentor, Dr. Zee, I would probably have lost my mind. He gave me the strength to get up and try again. He gave me a goal to work for, something to keep my mind off of my troubles and on something positive. It’s never easy to deal with death, but children are strong. They bounce back more quickly than adults. I handled Rachel’s death. I missed her then, as I do now, and I think about her often. I think about what she would be like now and how she would look, but these are just daydreams; the effects of wandering memories that refuse to be silent. Everyone looks into their pasts and wonders what could have been if their lives had been different in some way. I never looked back with regret. I felt sorrow for Rachel’s life being cut so short and the negative effects it had on so many people. I wished sometimes that the tragedy hadn’t occurred, but I’ve never wished for a different life for myself. I’ve always been happy with who I am and the choices that I’ve made. I allow the memories of long since to creep through my mind, but they don’t rule my life. It’s the past, and I’ve accepted it.

  Ethan’s way of dealing with his past wasn’t nearly so constructive as mine, but he also had the burden of dealing with his parents on a daily basis. As the oldest of eight children, he was expected to be more responsible than the rest while still being smothered by his overprotective mother and lorded over by his narcissistic father. He learned how to manipulate his mother, but his relationship with his father was one of seething bitterness. The abuses he suffered at his father’s hands diminished considerably as Ethan’s fear of him faded with the approach of manhood and the unexpected development of his adult dimensions. As far as the care of the younger children was concerned, Ethan was quite conscientious. He loved babies and knew by the age of twelve that he wanted several children of his own when he was grown. Many times he took the brunt of his father’s ill temper on his siblings’ behalf. But by the time they were entering puberty, the animosity that was encouraged to be between all of them took hold, and I ended up having a better relationship with his siblings than Ethan did. How quickly people forget the good things that were done for them.

  I realized at a young age that Ethan would have a propensity for alcoholism. I remember how he always tried to sneak my dad’s evening beer, which in itself is nothing more than a typical child’s trick. But as most children hate the taste of beer, I know I did, Ethan loved it. When we reached our teens, he was constantly bumming beers, and anything else he could get, from older friends and stealing from his parents’ liquor cabinet. By the time he was of age, a twelve-pack was the top item on his grocery list, with diapers coming in a close second. Instead of dealing with pressure; he hid from it. Instead of fighting for his child; he submitted. Alcohol started out as his refuge from the guilt of the past and of the pressures of coming adulthood. It protected him from all his insecurities. It silenced the ever nagging criticisms of his insatiable parents; criticism that made him less capable than his brothers, and less intelligent than his sisters. He wasn’t as smart as the rest, or as good as the rest, and would never amount to anything deserving of mention. Instead of dealing with his pain, he dulled it with alcohol. Eventually he needed something stronger and the vicious cycle of addiction began. He was addicted to sex, drugs, alcohol, and abusive insatiable girlfriends. Out of all of his many friends, girlfriends, and ex-girlfriends, it was me who always had the privilege of listening to his problems, dealing with his insufferable mood swings, and bailing him out of trouble. I handed him money without question, and I always had an ear to lend. I deluded myself into thinking that he was just going through a phase, and that he would soon return to his family-oriented moral self. I excused his behavior by blaming his oppressive home life and thought that this was just his way of blowing off the steam that had been building for so long. I was a fool, and I let my heart rule my mind. When the realization of what Ethan had turned himself into finally hit me, after I had no more excuses to lend him, I was so upset and disappointed that I wanted no more to do with him. I preferred the much nicer and more ethical Ethan who showed great promise for an athletic career and a great talent for craftsmanship. The truth of an oversexed drug addict with no hopes or dreams, raising a child with an incorrigible sleaze-bag for a mother, and providing no hope for a future for that child, made me angry and disgusted. I wondered if he was the same person that I had grown up with, and I longed to see him in the light of his youth.

  As usual, I was the one Ethan turned to for support when his life was in disarray. I didn’t hear from him much after he was married unless he needed something. It would’ve been fine if I was doing the same things as him, but since I was always telling him that I disliked his behavior, he stayed away. He stayed away not out of anger, but out of shame for himself. Unfortunately, he wasn’t shamefaced enough to behave himself. As long as I wasn’t around to point things out, he didn’t have to deal with any guilt. And he knew that if he whined enough about his hardships, I would give in and help him. It was what I had always done with him and old habits aren’t easily broken. This time he needed money for the baby’s medicine and was two months behind on his rent. He asked if I could help him catch up his bills, which I did, and then he asked me if he could have one of the properties that my parents had left to me. It was the little beach house that I was currently renting that interested him the most. He was a water sign after all, a Cancer to my Aries and true to his birth sign, he loved to be close to water. After all, what would I need with a beach house when he knew that I had plans to move into the old Victorian, and he well knew how much I hated to be near saltwater.

  “Ethan, I can’t give you a free house,” I replied into the telephone. “Even if I did, you would never afford the property taxes on either place.”

  “I wouldn’t have to ask if yeh’d agree to goin’ halves on a bigger apartment with us.”

  “We’ve been through that one already. I’m not living with her.”

  “I’m really in a bind, Heather. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need it.”

  “I can’t. I’m in the process of selling both properties. Ethan, you’ve got to learn to stand on your own two feet. I can’t bail you out for the rest of your life.”

  “Well, why can’t yeh sell the one place and give me the beach house? The other place is a lot bigger and should bring in a few bucks. I only need somethin’ small.”

  “The people renting the beach house have decided they want to buy it, and I’m glad to be rid of it. And don’t even ask me about the big house. I let you stay there before you met Kelly, and I had endless pho
ne calls about the noise level, and complaints of every description from the neighbors. I spent a small fortune paying all the fines for the ordinances you broke.”

  “That was a long time ago, and yer old neighbors are a bunch o’ dickheads.”

  “The only reason they tolerated you as long as they did was because they thought so much of my parents.”

  “I don’t wanna live there anyway. It’s creepy, and has too many memories. And it’s too close to my parents. Isn’t there somethin’ yeh can do about the beach house?”

  “School is expensive, Ethan. I need money too, and I’m busting my ass trying to make something of myself while you’re blowing money left and right. I’m tired of it. And there is no way I’m going give that bitch you married a free home that she can win from you in a divorce settlement.”

  “Don’t talk about ‘er like that! She wouldn’t do that anyway, she didn’t even want me to call yeh.”

  “Of course she didn’t, she hates me. And I’m not going to force myself to be nice to her after she spread all those filthy lies about me to your parents and our friends.”

  “I said I was sorry about that. What more do yeh want from me? Don’t yeh care about me, and what about little Emmy? She’s startin’ to run around on ‘er own, and it’s not safe for kids here.”

  “Don’t even try it, Ethan. You know I care about you and Emily, but it’s not my responsibility to take care of your family. Why should I concern myself about a kid whose mother will poison her mind against me anyway?”

  “I’m not askin’ yeh to take care of my family! I’m askin’ yeh to help me just a little bit! And she’s my kid too! She’ll know who ‘er family is!” He tried another tactic after a few moments of silence. “How ‘bout this, what if we stay in the Victorian ‘til yer ready to move in? I can fix it up for yeh while yeh finish school.”

  “I won’t have that parasitic wife of yours in my home. Christ, Ethan, I’ll never get her out of it! You married her; you deal with her. And I’ll tell you something else; I won’t have either of you bringing drugs and booze or any of your trashy friends into my home. I don’t live like that myself, and I won’t put up with it from you. If you want to do something constructive with yourself like go back to school or start that construction business you were talking about, then I’ll find the money to help you. I agreed to settle up your rent and pay for Emmy’s medicine, but that’s it. Until you straighten yourself out, I’m not giving you another dime.”

  “I thought we were friends!” he cried into the phone. “I thought we helped each other out! I thought yeh were always gonna stick by me! Don’t yeh remember sayin’ that? Well, don’t worry about givin’ me anythin’ else. Yeh won’t be hearin’ from me again. If I knew that I was such a burden to yeh, I would’ve stopped talkin’ to yeh a long time ago. I guess yeh got more important friends now. Yeh don’t need me anymore.” He slammed the phone in my ear, and we didn’t speak again until I moved to Twilight Falls.

  Although I knew I did the right thing, I still felt terrible about it. I thought about him constantly, but I was certain that I wasn’t giving in this time. Either he would come to me a changed man, or I would leave him out of my life for good. I was determined that my grades weren’t going to suffer from worry and guilt over him, so I buried myself in my studies. That’s how I rationalized it to myself, but I knew it was an escape for me. Academia was my way of escaping reality. It was my addictive narcotic. It doesn’t have the same nasty side effects as Ethan’s drug of choice, but it was just as damaging and just as addictive. To ignore the basic interests in life is damaging to everyone, even for someone like me who has a retiring nature. It’s natural for anything that’s in pain to look for ways of easing it, but eventually the pain must be dealt with. I had no choice but to accept Ethan’s lifestyle. He was a man and had the right to make his way in any manner that he chose.

  Gradually I came to realize that I must let go of my image of him. He was no longer the trusted best friend of my youth. He had changed and so had I. Life would never be the same for us again, whether we were together or apart. But it’s so hard to watch a loved one throw his life away and know that there’s nothing that can be done about it. If I interfered too much, I ran the risk of succumbing to his life’s downward pull. To be constantly surrounded by people whose activities are questionable is a strain on even the most rigid of moral standards. Eventually the depressive condition of being different becomes too much to handle and one is left with two choices: one can succumb to the pull of others, or one can leave and remain unblighted. I chose the latter. I blocked myself off from everyone but Dr. Zee and Shelly. Dr.Zee was my support, and Shelly was my substitute Ethan. She was wild and irresponsible in school. She always told me that I took things too seriously. We probably got along so well because she and I were so different, but whatever the reason we hit it off and remained friends after we went our separate ways. Talking to Shelly was like talking to Ethan except that she never needed any money. Her brother provided for all of her needs. She was always coming up with some crazy idea that she thought could serve as a career. At one point, she wanted to move to a tropical forest and start a Utopian community. This idea lasted about a week, until the next silly idea took its place. Just like Ethan, she was head-over-heels in love with every guy she ever dated. Everyone was “the one” until the next “one” came along. She was all romance and no reason; once the thrill was gone, she moved on. And just as Ethan had, she found someone who was able to control her. He did it just as abusively as did Ethan’s captor. He cunningly gained control of her and made her completely dependent upon him.

  Just as I was getting settled into my life without Ethan, he reappeared. It was easier dealing with Shelly because she was so far away, and she wasn’t a steady drain on my bank account. Moving into the old Victorian would give Ethan more access to me than Shelly would have and, he being pushier than she, would use the proximity to his advantage. He showed up one afternoon as I was unpacking my things and trying to clean up the years of dust that had accumulated in the old place. I heard his truck pull up and went through the kitchen onto the back porch and out to the driveway. I asked him how he knew I was back, and he said that he’d asked Dr. Zee and that he frequently came up here to think. He stayed only a few minutes, saying that he only wanted to know how I was doing. After he left, I thought about how much he’d changed in just a few years. He’d become much heavier than I’d ever seen him. His face was full and round instead of thin and angular as I remembered. He’d developed a belly, something which I thought I’d never see him get. He’d always been very proud of his naturally flat stomach and clearly defined musculature. The one difference in him that really shocked me was the loss of that so familiar twinkle in his eyes. It was the one attribute that, for me, defined him as an individual. In whatever ways time would change and sculpt his body, that twinkle would remain as constant and unpolluted as time itself. The loss of it was more of a shock to me than if he’d lost a limb or had been badly scarred. No matter what physical changes could occur, Ethan would still be Ethan. It was that unmistakable twinkle that symbolized his soul, his essence. It was his flag of self fluttering in the breeze and shouting, “I am!” The many years of chemical abuse and living in an unhappy environment was bound to take its toll on him, but the silence of his eyes was unexpected.

  The darkness that I saw in Ethan made it difficult for me to talk with him as I had in the past. I felt as if I were talking to a stranger. It took many months for us to start patching things up because of this uncomfortable strangeness. We’d had even more vicious fights in the past, and it took a day or two at the most to work it out. We knew each other so well that everything just fell into place. Often we didn’t even have to talk it out, just an “okay” and a laugh solved it all. We could simply look at each other and both knew what the other one was thinking. I’ve often heard stories of twins having a psychic link to each other. While I do believe that such things are possible, I don’t feel t
hat there needs to be any kind of a genetic link. When people open up their minds showing each other every vulnerability, every nook and cranny of their souls, a link is formed. One could argue that we, being blood relations and having grown up together, would naturally have such familiarity. But I have other cousins with whom I’m close and he has seven siblings, and yet none of them know either of us nearly as well as we know each other, nor do we know them so well. A friend once told me that Ethan and I were joined souls. We’re not soulmates as in the sense of lovers; we’re partnered to share our lives throughout eternity. If it is true that we’re all reincarnated to learn life’s lessons before we return to the Creator, then Ethan and I are two souls who share the burdens of all of our lives. Sometimes we’re siblings and sometimes we’re no relation at all. We’re just eternal friends. I’m not sure if I believe in reincarnation, but I do find my friend’s explanation to be a great comfort. If it really is true that we are eternally joined, then there must be soulmates out there who complete us as individuals and also complement our friendship. It’s a terrible crime to have a close friendship torn apart by jealous spouses. Perhaps this is the lesson we’ve not yet learned, that we need to be patient and wait for the perfect mate, and that we mustn’t allow jealousy and animosity to come between us at any cost.

  Ethan and I had to get reacquainted with each other, a process that was long and uncomfortable. It was laden on both sides with the guilt of knowing how close we’d been and how strange we had become to each other. As if that wasn’t enough to deal with, we had the added animosity of Ethan’s possessive wife, Kelly. She intercepted any mail that I sent to him, raided his e-mails, and hung up the phone whenever I called. She also had her friends follow him around and report his activities to her. She was more concerned about him spending time with me than she was about him having extramarital affairs. They had days-long vicious fights whenever he came to visit me. The emotional strain was plainly visible on his face. I was so concerned for his health, that I finally broached the subject with him.