Storms Over Secrets

by J. A. Derouen

“And I’ll order the pizza,” Mrs. Cindy says cheerfully. She walks to the kitchen island and fishes through a drawer, grabbing takeout menus and placing them on the counter. “You’ve been working so hard, Lucas, I’m glad to see you taking some time to relax.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Lucas drags me by the hand, and I stumble, following closely behind. I turn my head back to the kitchen just in time to meet Mrs. Cindy’s insistent eyes as she mouths, “Please.”

  “Is that the same guy from the first scene? Lucas?”

  I turn my head to see if he hears me, and I realize he’s not even focused on the movie at all. He’s laying behind me on the living room couch, staring into space, and he hasn’t said two words since the movie started. I shove my elbow into his chest and scowl.

  “Hey, what did you do that for?” He has the nerve to rub his chest as if I’ve fatally wounded him.

  “Are you even watching? Can you tell me one thing that’s happened in the movie?” I raise my eyebrows in question, and he crooks his head to the side and shrugs sheepishly. I swing my legs onto the floor and shoot up to standing just as his hand grasps mine.

  “Wait, Celia, just wait. Isn’t it enough that I wanted to spend time with you? I don’t care what we’re doing, as long as we’re together.”

  “No.” I jerk away from his clenched fist, but he refuses to release me.

  “No?”

  “No. Not anymore. I don’t want the shell of you here with me while your mind is a million miles away. Do you understand how much my life has changed in the past few weeks? Grams will be home in a few days. It’s such a blessing, but I’m scared … so freaking scared. I’m graduating in a couple of months. I’m thinking about colleges and how I’m going to juggle all these things while taking care of Grams.” I drop to my knees on the side of the sofa and firmly tug his chin to me. I plead with distracted and dilated eyes. His gaze shifts nervously, and I huff in frustration. “All these things are hanging over me like a heavy cloud, and I feel so utterly alone. Even right now, you’re looking straight through me. I’m right here, Lucas. Where are you?”

  “I’m here,” he says as he tugs my wrists and tries to pull me up onto the sofa, but I resist. “I promise, I’m here for you.”

  “No.” I shake my head forcefully and push away.

  I put a few feet of distance between us and raise my hands. I need a moment, a breath, a lifetime maybe, to muster up the courage to ask the important questions—the questions that could flip our worlds upside down.

  I read whatever I can find on the Internet, looking for answers to help me understand these changes in Lucas. When I began suspecting mental illness, I read tirelessly about first steps. How do I get help for him?

  Since my first attempt at broaching the subject with Mrs. Cindy went over like a box of rocks, I’m trying a new tactic. I’m going straight to the source. Many of the websites say it’s surprising how many people will provide an honest answer if someone would just ask the question.

  “Lucas, you know you can tell me anything, right?” I whisper. “I love you, you know? I always have, and I always will.”

  “I know that,” he replies, eyes downcast.

  “I’m going to ask you something, and I hope you’ll be honest with me.” The words I need to say are shards of glass sliding up my throat. I can’t swallow them back down, but I don’t want to spit them out. They’ll cut me either way. “Do you … do you sometimes hear v-voices when no one is around?”

  For the first time tonight, I have his complete attention. He inhales a sharp breath and pulls up to sitting position, placing his elbows on his knees. He hides his eyes from me as he twirls his thumbs and shakes his knee. I reach out and place my hand on his leg, trying to calm the storm building inside him. The shaking stops, and his eyes meet mine, looking determined and afraid all at once.

  “Yes,” he whispers faintly, but the word echoes louder than any other we’ve spoken before.

  “You hear them?” I prompt, hoping he’ll help me understand.

  “Th-they tell me things. They know so much, Celia,” he explains, his voice becoming more frantic.

  Hot, prickly waves run through me, causing a tingling in my nose, a burning in my eyes, a clenching in my gut. Why do I feel blind-sided by his admission? If I’m completely honest with myself, I had suspicions—more than suspicions, really. I never would have confronted Mrs. Cindy or Lucas on just a hunch.

  But words have power. They breathe life into the unthinkable. They eliminate denial. God, how I wish for denial. Moments ago, I begged for the truth, and now I’d give anything to crawl into a cocoon of warmth and lies.

  The dread washing over me in waves must be playing loud and clear on my face, because Lucas begins backing away and pulling his hands from my grasp.

  “I never should have told you. They told me you wouldn’t understand.”

  “No, I’m glad you did,” I say, moving closer, bridging the divide he’s trying to create. “We tell each other everything. Right?”

  He nods, but I can sense his mistrust. I’m slowly losing him … or maybe he’s already gone.

  “I love you so much, Lucas, and I always want you to tell me the truth. There are people who can help you—medicines to stop the voices.”

  “No!” The piercing quality of his voice startles me. He pushes off the couch and begins to pace, eyes wild, hands grasping at his hair. “You can’t tell anyone, Celia. No one can ever know about this.”

  “Please, calm down. It’s okay, just calm down. I want to help you—”

  “By sending me away? Because that’s what they’ll do,” he says, charging back toward me, grasping me by the shoulders. “No one can know about this. You have to promise me, Celia.”

  “No one’s going to send you away. Why would you think that?” I try to keep my voice even and soft, hoping my calm will soothe him.

  “I don’t think it … I know it. Everyone will think I’m crazy, Celia. I’m not c-cr-crazy,” he stutters, as unshed tears glisten in his eyes.

  I wrap my arms around his waist and drag him closer. Unable to watch him crumble, I bury my head in his chest like the coward I am.

  “I know that. I would never think that,” I say, my words muffled by his shirt.

  Time passes in timid silence, and Lucas’s breathing slows considerably, his heart stops pounding uncontrollably, but neither of us budges. I feel his breath lightly blowing the strands of my hair, tickling the rim of my ear.

  “This is our secret, Celia. You have to promise me.” He squeezes me tightly, holding on with all his might. I hope he’s clinging on to us, the love we have, but I think he’s grasping for a reality that no longer exists instead. “Promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”

  At first glance, it seems I have a choice to make. I either keep his secret and try my damnedest to protect him by myself … or what? Break his trust and have him shut me out of his life? I can’t help him if he pushes me away, and his mother’s recent state of denial tells me she’s not up for the job. The decision is made for me.

  I’ll always choose Lucas.

  I grasp the back of his neck and bring his forehead to mine, wishing I could leech out the sickness that torments him. His shuddering breaths bounce between us, and his watery eyes slay me.

  “I promise you,” I whisper. “I promise, Lucas.”

  And those few words are the beginning of the end. The cold, steely chains grip me, bind me, tie me. Each word, every vow, anchors me to this path of destruction.

  I promise.

  I promise.

  I promise…

  “Bright” by Echosmith

  Present Day

  I SEE THE tiniest twitch of her nose and perk up at the first sign of life. Celia hasn’t moved a single muscle since I dumped her into bed last night, as far as I can tell. If it wasn’t for the slight rise and fall of her chest, I’d call 9-1-1, hollering “Dead fairy, dead fairy!”

  I stayed longer than I sho
uld have last night, watching her from across the room to make sure she was okay. No, I’m not a creeper; I’m a fabulous fucking friend. Friends don’t let friends drown in their own vomit. I didn’t enjoy it … not one bit, I swear.

  Mr. Biscuit, my dog and trusty sidekick, is perched on my knee, body shaking and tail twitching. He’s waiting for my okay to pounce, and I release his collar. He bounds across the room and hoists himself on the edge of the bed while slathering Celia’s face in doggie kisses. When she rouses, I tap my knee, signaling him to return to me. He hops back into my lap and swipes his tongue across my cheek before curling into a furry ball of barely contained energy.

  I snatched Mr. Biscuit from my apartment early this morning when I hurried home to grab a shower and get a couple hours of sleep. I have plans for Celia today, and I know he’ll enjoy the day, too. Plus, chicks love guys with dogs. I’m not above using the hound for my gain. I know he would approve.

  Celia’s eyes creak open to tiny slits, little dimes turned sideways, as she whips her head back and forth. She immediately thinks better of it as she grips her head and groans in pain.

  “Don’t worry, he’s gone. Mr. Biscuit and I chased him away,” I say with a chuckle.

  “Huh? Chased who away?” she asks, lifting slightly on her hands and turning to me. She looks confused by my presence, but not necessarily mad about it. I’ll take that as a good sign.

  “The raccoon that left the fur coat on your teeth.”

  “Ugh. I do have a fur coat on my teeth.” Her lips curl in disgust as she tries to swallow down the cottonmouth I know she’s sporting. “And who’s Mr. Biscuit?”

  He barks at her question, tail shaking in excitement. I tap his butt, and he pushes off my leg to meet her.

  “Go easy on her, Biz, she’s in a fragile state.”

  He lets out a bark in response, and Celia clutches her head and groans. As my hound rains kisses and licks across her face, it doesn’t take long for the groan to morph into giggles.

  “I must say, Cain, this is not the dog I pictured for you. St. Bernard, Great Dane? Sure. You don’t strike me as a Jack Russell man.” She scratches behind Biz’s ears, and he flips over, legs up, belly on full display. He’s such a whore.

  I prop my ankle on my knee and a fist on my temple, settling into the chair, eyes on Celia. “I don’t require an enormous dog to prove my manhood. That goes without saying, darlin’. Jack Russells are extremely intelligent. I need a dog that can match my quick wit.”

  A bit of spunk returns to Celia as she shoots me a grin. “Did I hear you say nitwit?”

  “And she’s back,” I say with a smile, beating back the tug on my heart. “Glad to hear it, because I have big plans for us today.”

  She stops scratching Biz’s belly and cocks her head at me. “What if I already have plans?”

  “Cancel ‘em.” I watch her intently, not wanting to be the first to break eye contact, willing her to go along for the ride with me.

  Biz paws at her hand and whimpers, begging shamelessly. She brings her attention back to him, rubbing his belly while she coos at him. “Okay,” she whispers softly.

  “Then it’s settled.” I slap my hands on my knees and rise up. “Biz and I will wait for you in the living room.”

  “Wait,” she says, only now looking down at her fully clothed body. “I’m assuming you brought me to bed, so thank you. Did you … stay?”

  I wave a dismissive hand, hoping to downplay the entire thing and wipe away the embarrassment I see forming in her expression. “Nah, I made sure you were safe and sound, then headed home. I had to round up the hound for our adventure, anyway. I knew he’d want to tag along.”

  “I-I’m really sorry about last night, Cain. The whole thing—getting locked out, acting like a blubbering idiot.” She’s quiet for a few moments, but it’s obvious she isn’t finished. “Sometimes it just becomes too much.”

  “What becomes too much?” I’m hoping for a sliver, just a tiny glimpse into who she is … what she’s endured.

  “The sorrow,” she admits with lowered lashes. “The sorrow and the … the helplessness. I just needed a night to feel sorry for myself. I’m sorry you had to see it.”

  “Don’t ever apologize for needing a time out with me. I’ll unlock your door, wipe your tears, carry you to bed, anytime … every time,” I say. I sense the clouds creeping in, so I opt for a change in mood. “That’s what friends are for, right, Tink?”

  “Yeah.” Her gaze lingers on me, and a small smile tugs at her lips.

  “Now, we’ve got somewhere to be. Get dressed, little one, because we’re beating back the sorrow today.”

  “Oh yeah? How are we doing that?”

  I stop at the doorway and snap at Biz, but Celia doesn’t let go of his collar. “I think you need a bit of mothering today. I’m gonna see to that.”

  “Cain Bennett’s gonna mother me? This I’ve got to see. Get out of here so I can get dressed, then,” she says, and I snap at the dog again. Celia shakes her head in response. “Biz stays with me.”

  Lucky bastard.

  “What in the hell is this monstrosity?” she asks.

  “Huh?” I follow her gaze as we walk out of her front door. “Oh, that’s Big Orange. She’s a beauty, right? That’s a 1975 Ford pickup with a Corvette engine under the hood. Every country boy’s dream.”

  She keeps walking to the truck, albeit a little more slowly. “If you say so,” she mutters.

  I open her door and help hoist her into the seat. Biz hops into her lap, and I swear, the fucker is taunting me. He’s enjoying this a little too much for my liking.

  Am I seriously jealous of my dog? Ya damn right I am.

  I want to bring Celia to my parents’ house today, but she needs a bit of background before we get there. I have no doubt she’ll embrace my parents and the dynamics of my family, but I don’t want to catch her off guard. I also have an overwhelming need to protect those I love. I’d never let someone come into my home and hurt my family.

  “I think some ibuprofen and a little bit of sunshine may be my hangover cure. I’m feeling better already.” She smiles and makes a tiny crack in the window for Biz to shove his nose through.

  “I’m glad.” I clear my throat and chance a look in her direction. “So, listen, I’m taking you to my family home, if that’s okay with you. My parents are great people and it’s really peaceful out there. I thought it would be a great way for you to unwind.”

  “Meeting the parents already, Cain? I thought you’d at least let me test out the merchandise first?” She laughs and quirks her eyebrow up at me.

  “Oh, test away, Tink, test away,” I say as she screws up her lips and rolls her eyes. “Seriously, you’ll love them, and they’ll love you.”

  “Thank you for allowing me into your home. That means a lot,” she says softly.

  “Like I said, you need some mothering.” I shift in my seat and tap the wheel with my thumb. “Listen, there’s something you need to know before we get there. It’s not a big deal or anything, but I don’t want you looking at them funny or anything, okay?”

  “Do they have horns growing out of their heads?”

  “No, it’s just that … my parents are … the thing is, I have two moms, okay? Like I said, it’s not a big deal, but I can’t have anyone hurting their feelings, ya know? If that’s a problem, we won’t go.” I train my eyes on the road, hoping Celia is who I think she is.

  The cab fills with silence for longer than I like. Maybe this was a mistake.

  “First of all, Cain Bennett, I’m no bigot. I would hope you would know that about me already.” She crosses her arms, and I feel her glare burning the side of my face.

  “I promise you, this is not about what I think of you as a person. It’s about protecting my family. I always ask this question, no matter who it is. I’m not questioning your beliefs; I just love them that much. Okay?”

  I know she understands my point when her arms slowly uncross and her posture
relaxes.

  “Well, aren’t you the sweetest son ever? Which brings me to my second point. You’ve got to be the luckiest man in the world, to have two mothers to dote on you. What a blessing.”

  I grin and chuckle to myself. “You have no idea.”

  Perfectly timed, I turn the truck onto the gravel drive. I slow down so I don’t throw rocks into the grass, and watch Celia as she takes in the scenery. I have to admit, the land is breathtaking. Past the hundred-year-old oak trees lining each side of the drive, there are rows upon rows of fig trees, persimmon trees, and pecan trees, as far as the eye can see. At the end of the gravel drive is my family home, a stark white two-story house with a wrap around screen porch, black shutters, and dormers. The front yard is impeccably landscaped with an antique, cast iron sugar kettle serving as a fountain.

  I called ahead, so I’m sure they're both home, waiting for us. The screen door inches open, and I see Mom peeking out of the tiny crack.

  It didn’t matter how many times I reiterated to her that Celia and I are just friends, I could hear the excitement building in her voice the longer we talked about her. Do I want there to be more between us? Without question, but it’s gonna take time. I consider today the first step in my quest to capture Celia Lemaire’s heart, no matter the condition. Broken, scarred, or busted wide open—I’m the man for the job.

  I see Jabbers, my parents’ unruly black lab, shoving through the screen door and bounding toward the truck. Biz goes apeshit, nearly knocking Celia out the truck, trying to get to Jabbers. Those two are old pals from way back.

  “Cain Joseph, get your butt over here and give your momma a kiss. I’ve been missin’ you,” Mom pouts with outstretched arms.

  I meet her halfway and scoop her up for a quick twirl, planting a sloppy, wet kiss on her cheek.

  “Hey Mom. Missed you, too,” I whisper as I set her down.

  Her signature red-checkered apron is dusted with flour, a cardinal sign there are treats in our future. She’s twisted her blonde curls on top of her head in a bun, surely to keep it out of the way as she bakes. This woman can make an apple dumpling that will make a grown man weep.