Storms Over Secrets

by J. A. Derouen

  Lucas tugs to me to the edge of the bed and sits us both down, facing each other. He runs his fingertips lightly across my forehead and cups my chin in his open hand.

  “She’s the same,” I say, looking into his eyes. The genuine regret mirrored back at me is the only thing stopping me from adding “not that you’d care” to the end of my sentence. He squeezes my hand gently and gives a nod, urging me to continue.

  “The doctors say to be patient, that it’s a gradual process, and she’s only just begun therapy, but I wish I could see something, ya know? Just something to let us both know things are going to get better for her.”

  I hide my head in his chest, despair winning out over my extreme aggravation. I let him console me, run his fingers down my back and gently rock me from side to side. He slowly lulls me into a state of temporary calm, despite the crushing weight lingering over my shoulders from the events of the last week.

  “Celia, you are so brave and so unbelievably strong. Even when we were kids, I was in awe of you. No kid would ever even walk in front of Old Man Theriot’s house. We’d all go two blocks out of our way to avoid that creepy place and that hateful man. What do you do? You knock on his door and ask him to buy gift wrap for a school fundraiser.” Lucas pushes away to meet my eyes while rolling his in amusement.

  “Hey, I wanted to be the top seller so I could win the bicycle. And Mr. Theriot actually bought some paper.” Lucas’s deadpan stare shows his disbelief. I throw my hands up and giggle softly. “I swear! He used it to wrap presents for all of his cats.”

  “See, that’s what I mean. And then what about Mrs. Charlotte’s dog, Kernick, the neighborhood bully? That dog would terrorize all the kids in the neighborhood, and then he met his match with Celia Lemaire. He rushed right up to you, snarling, barking, and baring his teeth. You just dropped down to his level, scratching his head and pulling his ears.”

  “Honestly, he was just a big baby,” I explain, shrugging my shoulders. “All bark and no bite. Cuddly old Kernick.”

  “I think that beast was in complete shock, that’s why he didn’t maul you. You stunned him into inaction.”

  Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. A lazy smirk runs across Lucas’s face, and he shakes his head in mock exasperation.

  “Fearless.” He lowers his head and softly presses his lips to mine, breathing me in on a deep inhale. He releases my lips and presses his forehead lightly to mine, gripping my neck firmly with both hands. “And the only person I know who is stronger than you is Grams. Where do you think you get it?”

  Tears flood my eyes and tumble over onto my cheeks, hot and stinging. I silently pray that Lucas is right—that Grams is more stubborn than she is sick. That she is braver than she is broken. That my love for her is stronger than her body’s limitations.

  “I hope you’re right, Lucas. You just have to be,” I say, my voice cracking with emotion.

  “I’m gonna be strong for you, too. I let you down today.” He sighs heavily, overwrought with guilt. “I love you, Celia. I was born to do it, and I promise to do a better job. I promise you.” And with those few words, my anger slides away, leaving nothing but love and adoration.

  I open my eyes, and I see Lucas bathed in a new light, one that isn’t tinged with anger and disappointment. For the first time today, I really see him—and I’m afraid.

  I run my fingertips over his days’ old, unshaven face and notice the dark circles ringing his bloodshot eyes. His hair is more than disheveled. It’s downright dirty. His skin feels sticky and oily to the touch.

  “Um, Lucas?” I only continue when he meets my eyes. “When’s the last time you bathed?”

  He bolts up off the bed and starts smoothing over his stained T-shirt, visibly embarrassed by my question. “Shit, I’ve been so caught up, I don’t even remember.”

  My brow furrows in confusion, trying to think of a time when I forgot such a basic necessity of life. “You don’t remember?”

  He rummages through his dresser draws, pulling out a set of clothes before kneeling on the floor between my legs. He runs his hands up my arms in comfort and shoots me a goofy smile. “Hey, don’t let the mad mathematician in me make you worry. Audrey doesn’t call me the absent-minded professor for nothing, right?”

  I nod softly, unable to squash the feeling that there is more going on than he’s letting on. Grams, Lucas, and everything else make up this puzzle, continually moving and shifting, making it impossible for me to get a clear picture of what’s happening. But even muddled and out of focus, it’s crystal clear that something is very wrong.

  Lucas presses his lips to my forehead on his way out the door, gripping his fresh clothes in his fist. I stay silent and unmoving on the edge of the bed until I hear the shower turn on down the hall.

  I survey Lucas’s room, looking for any clue into his odd behavior. Messy, unmade bed? That’s normal territory for him. I open his closet door and peek inside, telling myself it’s not an invasion of privacy if I just look in from the doorway. On the top shelf, I find snack pack heaven—cookies, chips, Chex Mix, and much more.

  Since when does Lucas keep food hidden in his closet?

  There could be several explanations, I tell myself. Maybe he puts them in his book sack when he can’t make it to the cafeteria at school. Maybe he gets so caught up in his projects, he doesn’t want to break his concentration by going downstairs to the kitchen. Maybe…

  I walk toward the window, running a hand over his desk, fingering the folder sitting on top of the towering stack of papers. I push away the guilt when I flick open the top of the manila folder to reveal his papers. This is not who I am—I’m not the snooping girlfriend, but desperate times and all that.

  I peer at the top sheet, anxious to see what’s stealing every moment of Lucas’s attention. I imagine it’s more equations, lines of proofs, things I cannot even begin to comprehend.

  When my eyes meet the paper, renewed tears fill my eyes. I grip the desk with one hand for balance and clutch my shirt with the other, trying to keep the gnawing sense of doom at bay.

  As I run my eyes over the paper, I realize I was right about only one thing. I can’t grasp a single bit of understanding from the scribbling in front of me.

  But neither can anyone else.

  “My Immortal” by Evanescence

  The Present

  “SNEAK ATTACK!”

  I hear an audible “hmph,” I’m guessing from Celia. I wince as I knock on the front door. She may just kill me, and I can’t really blame her.

  Adam called me an hour ago and demanded my services pronto. He said I created this mess, so it’s my job to clean it up. How was I to know Gage would unleash all my teachings on Celia? I meant for the little guy to torment Adam.

  I’m banking on our newfound friendship earning me a few mercy points with her. Over the last few months, Adam, Celia, and I have shared more dinners, movie nights, and cookouts than I can count. Add in the wonder twins and Celia’s best friend from home, Audrey, and I’ve fallen into a fucking fabulous extended family of sorts.

  Never mind the incestuous thoughts I secretly hold about a certain family member. That’s a discussion for another time.

  Adam and I spend a lot of time at New Horizons getting the domestic abuse program up and running. As we rack up hours at the clinic, Celia sightings are more frequent and definitely appreciated. An easy friendship naturally evolved between the three of us. All that being said, I doubt Celia’s feeling very friendly or familial about me today. I’ll be lucky to leave with my nuts intact.

  The door flies open, slamming into the wall behind it, and a furious Celia fists her hand in my shirt and jerks me inside. On sheer instinct, my hand drops down and covers my balls. Her short blonde hair is matted to her face in wet clumps. Even her eyelashes are stuck together. Her light pink shirt clings to her skin, and I make an honest effort to train my eyes to her face.

  Maybe just a peek. Damn, her nipples are hard…

  She turns and poi
nts to the heathen in question with fire in her eyes. “Fix him. You broke him, so fix him!”

  Okay, so maybe I taught Gage a few … pranks. I only shared a minuscule amount of tricks from my very large arsenal. I merely wanted his inner Dennis the Menace to shine. All little boys should learn the fine art of torment. It’s practically a rite of passage.

  I only get a glimpse of the furry tail Gage insists on wearing tucked into the back of his jeans as he races away to hide. Unfortunately for me, I’ve also taught him to play hide and seek like a CIA agent. If he doesn’t want to be found, forget about it. I’m kind of proud of my little protégé, but I wipe the smirk off my face before Celia turns my way.

  “Oh, no you don’t, little man. It’s time to pay the piper,” I call out as I round the corner into the hallway.

  A tiny giggle behind me makes me turn my attention to Lily, who’s perched on barstool at the counter. She’s sipping out of a teacup and swatting at the pink feathers tickling her nose from the boa wrapped around her neck.

  “I’m not telling you, Uncle Cain. If I do, he might prank me,” Lily says with a shrug of her shoulders and more giggles.

  “He put a rubber band around my sink sprayer so it shot me in the face when I turned the faucet on. He hid a whoopee cushion under my seat. He’s been screaming ‘Aunt Cece farted’ at the top of his lungs all morning. And that’s not even the worst of it. He sprinkled those little pop firecrackers all over the bathroom floor. You can imagine what happened when I stepped inside. I nearly peed my pants!” Celia glares at me accusingly as she counts off Gage’s offenses on her fingers.

  “At least you were in the right place for peeing,” I mumble, but shut my mouth quickly when Celia slaps my arm.

  Little man was busy this morning.

  “Okay, he definitely owes you an apology. But, come on, it’s a little bit funny, right?” I shoot her a winning lopsided smile, hoping to melt a little of the ice in the air. It’s wiped clean off my face when I see her reaction. “Never mind, just forget I said anything.”

  “Seriously, Cain, you’ve turned that sweet boy into a holy terror. I can’t believe Adam let you teach him those things!” She stamps her foot, and damn if it doesn’t make her even cuter.

  I chuckle as I peer into each room, looking for the little delinquent. “Believe me, when it comes to watching over the munchkins, Adam’s set the bar really low for me. What do you expect after the ‘cratchel’ incident? But, I mean, come on, I’m the fun uncle. Everyone loves Uncle Cain.”

  “Cratchel incident?”

  “Never mind about that. It’s not important.”

  She’s on my heels as I search the house for Gage. “Well, believe me, not everyone loves Uncle Cain. Some people would love to teach him a big, fat lesson!” she replies, poking me in the back with each word for emphasis.

  I turn on a dime, and stoop down to meet her nose to nose. Her eyes widen, and she freezes in place. “Oh, I don’t think you want to tangle with me, Tink. The stuff Gage pulled today? Child’s play … just the tip of the iceberg. I will unleash a prank war you’ll never recover from. You sure you wanna dance with me?”

  Her pretty blue eyes go wide, but before she can answer, I hear a sound coming from the bathroom. I peek around the corner and spot Gage peeking his head out from the cabinet under the sink.

  “There are more tricks? Why didn’t you tell me, Uncle Cain? I wanna know them all,” Gage says as he scowls at me, angry that I’ve been holding out on him.

  I meet Celia’s eyes and tip my head in Gage’s direction. She smiles back, and now the victim becomes the conspirator.

  “Get him!” I yell, and Celia and I descend on Gage, her grabbing his arms and me wrangling the feet. “Tickle war!”

  Belly laughs fill the room, some from Gage as we tickle him senseless, and more from Lily as she watches the show.

  Gage finally breaks free, and I fall to the carpet in exhaustion. I hear Celia’s body flop down beside me, and I turn my head toward her. She searches my eyes, looking for what I’m not sure, and a wide smile slowly emerges, lighting her face all the way to the depths of her blue eyes. And that quickly, I know I’m forgiven.

  “Hey Gage?” she calls out, lifting her head to see him.

  “Yeah, Aunt Cece?”

  “What’s a cratchel?”

  Before I can put my hand over the little traitor’s mouth, Gage jumps up and runs away from me.

  “It’s right between a dude’s crack and his satchel. You should never kick a man in his jewels, Aunt Cece.”

  I chance a look to the side. An incredulous Celia is staring back at me—mouth open, eyes rolled, and head shaking from side to side. I do the only thing I can in this situation—I have the good sense to look sheepish and shrug.

  “How was I to know he’d repeat every single word I say to him?” I turn to Gage with my hands in the air. “Seriously, dude, you’ve got to let some sh-stuff slide.”

  Celia pops me lightly on the back of the head as she jumps up and walks to the kitchen. She turns her head to me and smiles. “Clueless. Completely and utterly clueless.”

  No matter what her mouth says, her eyes twinkle brightly and her look is gentle and affectionate. It’s not all for the kids—some of that look is for me, too, I just know it.

  Yeah, I’m still forgiven. Cratchel and all.

  I almost don’t make it to the phone in time. It nearly rolls to voicemail as I wrap the towel around me and trail water on the bedroom floor.

  Every thing about this night has been rushed. With the opening of duck season, I’ve been on patrol all day today. I step off the boat and find two tenant messages waiting for me. Busted pipe. Broken air conditioner. What a great fucking way to spend a Friday night. Since I fixed both issues in record time, my hope is to salvage the night with a six-pack of Heineken and a little ESPN.

  “Yeah?” I say as cradle the phone between my shoulder and ear, trying my best to dry off at the same time. In a hurry to catch the call, I don’t get a glance at the screen before answering.

  I’m met with several sniffles and a tiny whimper. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end because I know that voice. Even the smallest sound can give her away.

  “Tink, what’s wrong?”

  “I … I,” she stammers. “I locked myself out of the house, Cain. I’m sorry, but I didn’t know who to call. Adam’s not home.”

  A full-on sob escapes, and it’s a punch to the gut. I grab clothes from my dresser and pull my jeans up my still-damp legs. It fucking kills me to hear her this way.

  “Hey, it’s okay, Celia. No big deal, sweetheart. I’m coming right now. Just calm down, all right?”

  “I’m really sorry to call you. I didn’t know what else to do. I gave Adam a key so I wouldn’t have to bug you—”

  “You’re not bugging me. I’m leaving right now,” I say as I grab my keys off the counter. After getting dressed in record time, I throw a “Sorry I’m leaving again so soon” treat to my dog, Mr. Biscuit, and fly out the door.

  “Celia?” I call out into the darkness, walking around the side of her house, but I’m met with silence. She’s not sitting on the porch this time. As I round the corner to the rear of the house, I hear the sniffles coming from the back porch.

  Twinkle lights snaked through the wooden arbor cast a small amount of light, and I’m able to see her body curled up on the wooden swing. She’s folded up into a tiny ball, trying to disappear, vanish from this world, by the looks of it. If I thought her voice on the phone was painful to hear, actually seeing her unraveled is unimaginable. I rush to her side and kneel on the brick, my thumb swiping the tear trailing her cheek.

  My arrival unleashes the floodgates yet again, and sobs rack her body as she covers her face with her hands. Without a second thought, I lift her up and cradle her into my chest, lightly shushing this new onslaught of grief. I don’t speak—it’s not the time for that. I pull her head to my chest and rhythmically rock back and forth on the swing, hoping t
o lull her into a sense of calm. Her legs, her torso, every piece of her—I meld her into me, hoping to relieve some of the burden. I wish I could carry her heavy load.

  When the sobs downgrade to whimpers, I pull her far enough away so I can meet her sorrowful eyes. I swipe her wispy bangs across her forehead and cradle her face in my hands. Even with tear-stained, splotchy cheeks, and eyes swollen from crying, she’s beautiful … absolutely stunning. She still sparkles in my eyes.

  “Now, I know this has nothing to do with being locked out of the house, Celia. What’s this all about? How do we fix it?”

  She shakes her head somberly. “There’s nothing to fix, Cain. This is how it is for me. This is how it will always be. I’m beginning to think nothing will ever change.”

  I search her eyes for answers, but only see despair. I can’t change what I don’t understand, and I desperately want to make things better for her.

  “I can’t let you off that easy. You’re gonna have to give me a little more than that, Tink.”

  She releases a heavy sigh, and her head falls to my chest. Her shoulders heave with labored breaths, and her delicate hands fist the edges of my shirt. She lifts up slowly, her head weighing a hundred pounds, and faces me with lowers lashes.

  “I’m exhausted,” she whispers, her words labored and raspy. “I’m so tired of loving someone who no longer exists.”

  Her mouth turns down on her last words, and she hangs her head, seemingly ashamed of her confession. I feel her shrinking away from me, wishing herself invisible, and grasp her shoulders and shake gently.

  “Hey now, stop that. You don’t have to hide from me.” I cradle her delicate neck and drop a quick kiss to her forehead. I bend down to meet her lowered gaze. Her lashes flutter, and she reluctantly complies. There’s no hint of laughter in those blue orbs tonight.