Gateway

by David C. Cassidy

  “I’ve ever seen,” Marisa corrected him. “It’s the biggest TV I’ve ever seen.”

  “Me, too,” Kit said. “Just like I said.”

  Marisa rolled her eyes.

  “You got Xbox?” Kit said. “And a Playstation 4? Awesome.”

  “Awesome, yes,” Marisa said. “But you can’t play them, kiddo.”

  “Yeah … I know.”

  “Even for a little bit?” Jared said.

  “Mom? Just a little bit?”

  “Kit, you know the drill.”

  “Can I see the TV at least? For a few minutes?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I’ll cover one eye. I promise.”

  “Does that help avoid a seizure?” Jared said.

  “It does,” Kit said. “Please, Mom?”

  “Just a few minutes,” Jared said, egging Marisa on.

  “You’re not helping,” she said.

  “Come on, Mar. It’s a guy thing.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “A few minutes,” Jared said. “You good with that, Kit?”

  Kit gave a thumbs-up.

  “Good enough?” Jared said to Marisa. He placed a hand over his left eye and motioned to Kit.

  Kit covered one eye. “It’s a guy thing,” he said with a goofy grin.

  Marisa agreed sarcastically that it was indeed a guy thing, and she also agreed that not only was it the largest TV she’d ever seen, but the best, period. When a one-eyed Jared stopped the film—Guardians of the Galaxy—and the set displayed but a black screen except for the bold red Netflix logo—Kit, who up to that point had been a good one-eyed boy and positively tongue-tied, could only utter another “Awesome.”

  “That’s one word for it,” Marisa said, turning to Jared. “I totally get that addiction thing.”

  Jared switched off the television and set down his remote. Kit was staring at the fireplace. Above the mantel.

  “What do you think?” Jared said proudly. “My father painted that.”

  Kit sipped some chocolate milk. He seemed distant. Pensive.

  “Not an art fan?” Marisa said.

  Kit hesitated, then shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess. Can we go swimming now?”

  “Ah, the deep insights of a critic,” Jared said. “At least he’s honest.” He looked at Marisa, upbeat. “I vote for a swim, too. It’s a beautiful day. And I’m still hoping for that bikini.”

  “Hope is all you’ve got,” she said. “Where can we change?”

  “There’s a couple of extra bedrooms down the hall. On the right.”

  “Extra? How many do you have?”

  “Still finding some.”

  “Should I leave a trail of bread crumbs?”

  Jared chuckled, and he offered to take Kit’s glass. He tried to imagine what it was the boy had been thinking when he looked at the painting—or rather, what the boy had seen. The child had a knack for seeing the unseen—they both did—in more ways than one.

  He watched them go. When they were out of sight, he turned to the painting.

  And wondered.

  ~ 88

  Upstairs, Jared changed into a pair of burgundy swim trunks. He looked himself over in the espresso-framed floor mirror, and sighed at his pasty midsection. He gave his love handles a squeeze.

  “At least you’ve got money,” he said. He moved closer to the mirror and turned to his side. A small bruise there. He reasoned it must have happened when he fell at the pool.

  But that was days ago, he thought. This wasn’t here yesterday.

  He touched it and winced. “Christ.”

  He took another look in the mirror, this time checking his face. The veins. The bloodshot. Both a tad less.

  He slipped on a white beach shirt and stepped out to the deck. At the railing, he glanced down at the pool. Kit was there in a pair of red swim trunks, sitting patiently on one of the chaise lounge chairs waiting for his mother.

  What did you see in the painting, Kit? It was the eyes, wasn’t it? Maybe you didn’t see anything, but you felt something. Like something was there, watching.

  He grabbed some beach towels from the linen closet and went downstairs.

  ~ 89

  In the kitchen, Jared grabbed the orange juice from the fridge. Parched, he drank straight from the carton. Scarfing down a banana brought slight indigestion and a small burp, and he hoped his hunger would hold off until dinner. He’d eaten a large breakfast, but no matter how much he consumed, it seemed he would metabolize it quickly. When he’d checked his weight on the bathroom scale, he’d found he was down a couple of pounds from his usual one-seventy-five.

  The Doctor Cole Diet, he thought. Now there’s a best-seller. Eat like a horse, look like a model. Side-effects may include headaches, bloodshot eyes, creeping veins, numbness, rabid thirst … monster thoughts … excessive bouts of inexplicable rage.

  He capped the juice. As he went to place it back in the fridge, a jolt of pain shot through his left hand. The carton slipped from his grasp and struck the floor. When he went for it, a second jolt rocked him. He very nearly cried out. But then the agony ebbed, leaving a lingering throb in his fingers.

  “Kit?” Marisa called out. She was still changing.

  “Just me,” Jared said, half-shouting. “Dropped something in the kitchen.”

  He put the juice away and rubbed his hand until the aching stopped. Outside, he set the towels on the long patio table, then sat next to Kit.

  “Cool pool,” Kit said. “Can I go in?”

  “Sure,” Jared said. “But stay in the shallow end over there.” He pointed.

  Kit set his glasses on the chair. It was the first time that Jared had a good look at his eyes. They were cloudy and dim.

  “Can you see okay to swim?”

  “Good enough,” Kit assured him. He bolted from his chair and made a huge splash as fast as he could make one. When he came up from the water, he was beaming.

  Jared put his beach shirt on the chair. As he stepped onto the diving board, he spotted traces of blood on the stone patio. Most of it had faded from the blistering sun the last few days, and that freakish storm overnight.

  He dove deep. He saw Kit’s thrashing legs about thirty feet away and swam toward them. About halfway, a throb in his side struck him. The bruise ached. He breached the surface, swimming gently to the side of the pool. He clung to the ladder.

  “You all right?” Kit said.

  Jared nodded. The pain was fading. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just swallowed some water when I dove in.” He pretended to cough, and Kit went back to his water play.

  Jared heard the patio door slide open. He turned to greet Marisa, and when he saw her, his jaw slipped open. Sexy in sunglasses, her hair flowing, she rocked a jet-black one-piece bathing suit. A baby-blue sarong with a splash of flowers curved along her sensual shape, teasing him.

  “I’ll take that look any day,” she said, smiling. She set down a small pink handbag and drew out some sunscreen. “I thought you’d hate it. It’s not a bikini.”

  “Wow,” Jared said. Or thought he did.

  She took up in a chair and rubbed on the sunscreen. “You can probably stop gawking now.”

  “Not a chance. God, Mar … you look incredible.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Would you like a drink? A pina colada?”

  “I’d love one.”

  Despite the mild ache in his side, he managed to climb out of the pool and toweled off. A few minutes later he returned with their drinks and set them on the small table between them. He sat down and toasted Marisa. “To the love of my life.”

  She smiled and clinked his glass. “You always made these just right,” she said, sipping. “Mmmm.”

  “Everyone’s got a talent.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve got more than most.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Stay in the shallow end,” Marisa said to her son. Kit had made his way out near the middle. He dog-paddled back, got o
ut, and jumped right back in.

  Now Marisa was staring at Jared.

  “What?” he said.

  She lowered her sunglasses. “That.” The bruise.

  “It must be from when I fell,” he said, nodding toward the diving board. “But honestly, I don’t remember it being there yesterday.”

  She sat up and examined it closely. “Does it hurt?”

  “Ow!” he said. “Yeah, only when you touch it.”

  She pulled her hand away. “Sorry.” She sat back. “You said you were going to tell me if anything changed. And if you got worse, you’d see a doctor.”

  “I’m not worse. And it’s just a bruise.”

  “A bruise that just appeared out of nowhere?”

  “My eyes are getting better. Aren’t they?”

  “Maybe a little. But you still look like a little old man is inside you, trying to get out.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You know what I mean.” She sipped. “How’s your tooth, by the way?”

  “Better.” It wasn’t.

  “And the hunger? The thirst?”

  “Not so bad,” he lied. “What’s with all the questions, anyway?”

  “I care.”

  “I’m okay, Mar. But thank you.”

  Marisa was watching her son closely now.

  “Has he said anything?” Jared said. He could tell from her troubled expression that she knew what he meant.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “Maybe he’s forgotten about it.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t patronize me. You know damn well he hasn’t forgotten about it.”

  “You were pretty hard on him.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Okay. Sorry. Bad choice of words. But you pretty much shut him down over it.”

  Marisa lowered her voice. “What did you expect? He was talking about monsters in his room. In his room, Jared.”

  “He was scared.” Jared was whispering, too.

  “Really? Don’t you think I was? What was I supposed to tell him? That it was real? That he’s got some monster under the bed?”

  “You know it can’t be real, Mar.”

  “Yeah, well, it better not be.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I don’t know what to think any more. It means I’m scared.” She paused. “And so are you.”

  He was tapping. He stopped. “So what do we do?”

  “Right now? We sit back and sip these fine pina coladas. Then we go for a swim.”

  ~ 90

  Jared, Marisa, and Kit enjoyed the afternoon in the pool. Jared did occasional laps, while Marisa found that sunbathing on a floating lounge chair was much more to her liking, especially with a pina colada beside her.

  “Your drink, m’lady,” Jared said. He took her empty glass and handed her a fresh one. “Try not to lose this one.”

  “Ohhh, you’re cruisin’,” she said. She’d dozed off earlier, drink in hand. Jared had had to dive into the deep end to retrieve the glass.

  “Got enough bruises,” he joked. “One too many.”

  “You feeling okay?” she asked, sipping. “You look a little gray right now.”

  “No grayer than usual,” he deadpanned. He’d been feeling a tad feverish for the last half hour. Inside, the cool of the A/C had helped, if only for those few minutes. He glanced at Kit, who was still swimming. “I’d better get the barbie on.”

  They ate steaks and burgers, grilled to perfection on the Broil King. There were potato and three-bean salads, baked potatoes with sour cream, and barbecued corn on the cob. Marisa had offered to bring dessert, but Jared had told her not to worry, surprising her and Kit with a delicious key-lime pie. Later, when he came back outside with a pina colada in one hand, he had another surprise tucked under his arm.

  “What’s that?” Kit said, sitting up.

  Jared handed Marisa her drink, and she eyed the rectangular box with the same interest. A large beach towel kept its contents secret.

  Jared cleared some space on the table and set the box down. He tapped it. “Surprise, Kit.”

  Marisa glanced at him above her sunglasses. “What did you do?”

  Already Kit was unwrapping the towel, revealing the box that held a Prism Stowaway Diamond kite.

  “Ho-lee! Awesome! Thanks, Jared!”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Can we fly it now?”

  “There’s no wind right now. But maybe we’ll get lucky tomorrow. See that fence? There’s a big field behind it.”

  “Cool,” Kit said. He tapped the box. “Can I open it?”

  “Sure can.”

  “Honey, why don’t you do that inside. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Kit slung the box under his arm. “You’re the best, Jared.” He disappeared into the house.

  “Thank you,” Marisa said. “That was sweet.” She leaned forward to give Jared a kiss, only to be interrupted by the musical ringtone of her cellphone. When she found her phone in her handbag and checked the caller ID, it read UNKNOWN. She answered the call. “Hello?”

  “Marisa?” the caller said.

  “Gwen?”

  “Yes,” Gwen Cowen said. “I hope you don’t mind me calling. I got your number from Merritt DeWitt.”

  “Oh. That’s okay. What’s up?”

  “I was hoping you could ask Jared something for me. I lost his number.”

  Marisa covered the phone. “Gwen wants to ask you something. Are you in?”

  “Sure,” Jared said.

  “You’re in luck, Gwen,” Marisa said. “I’m with him right now. I’ll put you on speaker.” She pressed a button and set the phone down. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hi, Gwen,” Jared said.

  “Hi, Jared! How are you? Ricky’s dying to hear from you.”

  “Is he there?”

  “No, no. I’m at the office today. Buried under a mountain of paperwork. You’d think with computers we’d have less to do.”

  Gwen had worked for the mayor’s office for as long as Jared could remember. “Hope the county pays overtime.”

  “Yeah, right. I wish.”

  “So what’s up?” Jared said.

  “How’s your hand? In good shape?”

  Jared looked at Marisa, mouthing, “My hand?” How could Gwen know about his aching hands? She wouldn’t even know about his parasthesia. Let alone what was happening to him.

  “Still attached,” he said.

  The smartphone laughed. “Good to know,” Gwen said. “I was talking with Mayor Campbell this week. I mentioned in passing that you were in town, and he got pretty worked up about it. Turns out, he’s a huge fan of yours.”

  “Really? That’s great,” Jared said. He looked at Marisa, embarrassed. She sipped her drink with a small giggle.

  “Well, you might not think so,” Gwen said. “I know how much you love the spotlight.”

  “About as much as I like pea soup. So … what’s up?”

  Marisa sat forward, suddenly interested.

  “Now, before you say no,” Gwen said, “I want you to promise me three things.”

  Again Jared looked at Marisa. He mouthed “Three?” while displaying as many fingers.

  “Well?” Gwen said.

  “I don’t know, Gwen. This must be something big.”

  “Oh, no you don’t, Jared.”

  “What—? I didn’t say anything.”

  “I know you. You’re backing out before you even hear what I have to say. I can practically hear you tapping that finger of yours. Just like you used to do in school whenever you got nervous about a pop quiz … or when a certain girl asked you for a date. How many times did you turn me down?”

  “Point made,” Jared said. “But I think it was just the one time.”

  “Ha!” Gwen laughed. “Try six.”

  Marisa chimed in. “He turned me down a lot, too, Gwen.”

  “I k
now, I remember,” Gwen said.

  “Okay, ladies, you’ve had your fun. Now what’s this about?”

  “Three things first,” Gwen said.

  Jared sighed. “Fine.”

  “Great,” Gwen said. “One: You and Mar will come over for a barbecue soon.”

  “Sounds good,” Jared said, Marisa nodding with a smile.

  “Two: You’ll agree to really think about the mayor’s idea before saying no.”

  “I guess,” Jared said. “The last one must be a doozy.”

  “You bet,” Gwen teased. “Three: I need two signed copies of your new book.”

  “Two?”

  “One for the mayor. And one for me.”

  “You?”

  “Shocker alert: I’ve got all of your books.”

  “Are you kidding me? I could never get you to read my stuff. You said it was too … let’s see if I remember. Ah, yes. You said it was too ‘out there.’”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have turned me down,” Gwen joked.

  Marisa laughed.

  “Cute,” Jared said. “And you,” he said to Marisa, “you’re not helping.”

  Marisa sat back and sipped her pina colada.

  “All right,” Jared said to the phone. “How much of my soul do I have to part with?”

  “Oh, maybe half,” the phone said. “The rest you can sell to the devil himself.”

  “Why do I get the feeling he’s hovering?”

  Gwen laughed. “Okay, here goes. Like I said, the mayor’s a huge fan. In his own words, he’d like to honor Torch Falls’ greatest son and declare May 25 ‘Jared Cole Day.’”

  Jared hesitated, embarrassed again. He looked at Marisa with a look that said, Greatest son? Ya gotta be kiddin’ me.

  “It’ll be fun,” Gwen said. “The mayor was hoping you could do a reading. A book signing.”

  “That’s not so bad, I guess. Good thing my hand’s still attached, right?”

  “It’s why I asked,” Gwen chuckled. “There’s just one more thing.”

  “I knew it.”

  “It’s nothing bad,” she said, sounding like she was about to ask the biggest of favors. “Just a small parade.”

  “What?”

  “Promise two,” Gwen said quickly. “Give it some thought. Okay?”