by K. B. Nelson
* * *
My life is turning into a Hallmark movie. That’s the only explanation I can think of as to why it rains every time I visit this place. Dylan’s grave is covered in flowers that are now drowning in a pool of mud. As a temporary headstone, a large toy tractor sits where the mound of dirt meets the grass. That was his favorite toy growing up.
While most of my childhood is a blur, I have vivid memories of the day he brought that tractor in to class for show and tell. I was a childhood cliché and brought a collection of Barbies in to class that Friday afternoon. After class was over, we snuck out of school.
Our parents found us outside on the playground. There’s a photo around somewhere to prove it, but it’s been long forgotten about by everyone but me. In my memory, and in that picture, we are both crawling on the ground. I hold my prized Barbie on top of his tractor while he pushes it through the grass. Our parents were worried sick about us and had every right to be angry. But they weren’t angry. At least we didn’t notice if they were. Maybe the childhood bliss that flashed across our faces made them forget our transgression.
I’m soaked, but it’s warm enough out for me not to care. The sadness that I felt the last time I was here, the day of Dylan’s funeral, is gone. It’s been replaced with an odd sense of peace. I read online that some people experience a downtime of depression after taking Molly. For some people, it only lasts a few days, and for others, it can last weeks. I would guess that I’m one of those in the latter category, the after-effects of the drug pulling tight on my already broken heart.
“Hey, Charlie,” Blue says quietly from behind me. I don’t even need to turn around to know it’s him, but his finding me is just my luck.
“Do I have a tracker in my arm or something?” I ask.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen your medical transcripts lately.”
That’s just the type of corny joke I love. The fact that I don’t laugh is troubling.
“It’s just a bad joke.”
I turn around. “Really? You mean you weren’t serious?”
His hair is tousled and wet, looking like it’s grown at least an inch over the past few days. Now I know that’s not possible; he just looks different. His eyes are sunken like he hasn’t been sleeping. I guess that makes us twins. He’s wearing torn jeans, boots, and a tight-fitting plain white tee, the rain outlining every single line of his body. He’s starting to look like one of them. And by one of them, I mean Joey and Tyson. And Dylan. You know what they say about women who spend too much time together? That scientific discovery that their periods will actually sync? Well something like that seems to happen to the boys in this town.
“I don’t want to sound like that guy, but I’ve really missed you.”
I push my hair behind my ear. “I’ve missed you, too.”
He moves toward me like he’s about to embrace me or something. It’s not a conscious choice, but I lean back. He gets the hint and stops.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I need a second to think about the answer. It’s right on the tip of my tongue, but it’s not ready to come out. I look everywhere but at him. “The world.”
“That’s mysterious,” he says with a nod, “but I get it.”
My eyes catch his. “Do you?”
“I figured it out about fifteen minutes after I woke up.”
“Sorry about that.”
“For leaving? Don’t be. Like I said, I get it.”
I begin playing with my hair. I’m sure it annoys everyone but me when I do it.
He gets closer and this time I don’t pull back. “You’re hurt. You’re scared. You’re kind of lost. The world’s spinning and you just wanna jump off?”
“Something like that.”
“Let me get off with you.”
A chuckle escapes my throat. Blue’s eyes squint and I can tell he’s a little frustrated. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” I say and straighten my face out, back into serious mode. Those two words reminding me how terribly lost I’ve been.
“What I’m trying to say is that we all get lost sometimes. Just like you’re lost now, I was lost when I met you.” The rain rolls off the edge of his lips. “I think I’m still kind of lost, like I’m all the way out there on Venus or wherever the hell it is that you girls come from.”
“Blue,” I interject.
“No. I’m going to finish because I’m not going to take the chance that you’re going to say something stupid.”
“Stupid?” I ask, offended.
“Please, let me finish.”
My hand pats against my jeans. “Fine.”
“So I’m out there on Venus, but it’s you who always brings me back to Earth. Like you’re the Sun and I’m the Moon, and I know that we belong together because, hey, gravity.”
Strangely, I get his point. Even if he’s getting to said point in a rather contrived fashion. I wonder aloud, “One might think you’re on drugs or something with all this Plato-ing.”
“I want to say that your love is my drug, but I think I’m all cheesed out.” He smiles and it’s a relief.
“That’s probably a good thing.” I roll my tongue across my lip. “Now, can I say something stupid?”
“About that, I didn’t mean to—”
“Look, I love you and that’s not a question, it’s a fact. Some days, I wake up and know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Other days, it’s a neon blur. It’s like I don’t know who I am anymore.”
It’s quick and it’s gentle, but his palms grab me and hold me by the cheeks. “I know who you are. You’re Charlie. Sweet, beautiful, smart as fuck Charlie—the girl that I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. Everybody gets lost at some point, but I’m here to remind you exactly who you are.”
His words silence me. His eyes lock with mine like two soldiers about to go to war. My lip trembles and I feel as if I’m about to break.
“Okay,” he whispers.
Okay, what? Then his lips are on mine. They’re rough, but moist from the rain. It takes me by surprise, but within a second, that wears off and I grab him by the waist, pulling him closer. His hands caress my face, moving to the same rhythm as his tongue. His hands slide into my hair. As I pull back to breathe, I can feel his fingers combing through my locks.
“I love you.” His voice is strong, completely devoid of doubt. He’s on solid foundation and knows exactly what he wants. I wish I were as sure as he is that this can work out, but I’m sure enough that I kiss him back.
Like the ending of a Hallmark movie, the sun beams through the clouds and the rains subside just as we are locked in a passionate embrace. There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, and I don’t mean the cemetery. I mean here in his arms.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Blue and I walk down the empty Sunday street. There’s something unsettling in the air, like somehow our town has turned into a wasteland overnight. It’s past five, so everyone must be home with their families, recovering from a hangover, or just being lazy. I don’t know, but it’s not normal for the streets to be this dead, even in a small town like Lakeview.
It’s nice, however, to be walking and nothing else. Just Blue and me enjoying each other’s company. The thoughts in my head are settled, and I think it’s the first time for as long as I can remember. I never realized how exhausting my overpowering inner monologue was until it’s no longer dominating every ounce of me. Not thinking about the world is a nice change of pace, and I never thought I’d say it, but I enjoy the emptiness. The stillness of it all is refreshing.
We turn a corner onto Old Main Street, which is exactly what you would guess. It’s the old Main Street. There was a fire when I was young. It spread from shop to shop until the entire block was on fire. They never bothered to rebuild, but it’s always eluded me why they never tore all the hollow buildings down. It’s nothing but a memorial of tragedy.
There’s a man standing in the ce
nter of the sidewalk up ahead by about fifty feet. He’s not moving, like he’s waiting for something. I’m not sure what for, exactly, but it’s certainly a dramatic statement.
He’s probably on drugs.
The last thing I want to do is talk shit about drug addicts, especially given my recent history, but over the past year, drugs have really begun to rear their ugly head in this town. Drug addiction is sad and it’s avoidable. I hope I never get to that point because I don’t agree with the drugs are bad slogans that are thrown around high school auditoriums across the country. Drug addiction is complex, and I don’t think anyone ever sees it coming. It just sort of happens.
A chill runs down my arms as we draw closer to the man. There’s something wrong, and I can’t put my finger on it. When we’re a few feet away from him, he turns around, and he has this mischievous smile on his face. Something is definitely wrong.
Blue squeezes my hand tight and comes to an abrupt halt. I feel as if my bones are about to crack, so I pull my hand away from him. A haunting pale color fills his face and his cheekbones pull tight.
“Blue?” I ask softly. When he doesn’t respond, I turn to the man, dressed in dark clothing. His face is rough and unshaven. One of his eyes is pinched, permanently half shut. He’s locked into a childish staring war with Blue.
The man raises his eyebrows, and I think he’s about to speak.
“Hi, Blue.”
“Rake,” Blue responds tensely. They know each other, and I can smell the aroma of testosterone in the air. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m just visiting,” Rake says. “What about you?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Rake laughs and it’s dramatic, over the top, and completely fake. “You are my business, Blue.”
“Get out of here,” Blue huffs. I glance at Rake, then at Blue. The man’s not moving a muscle, much less his legs. I don’t think he has any intention of leaving. “I mean it, Charlie. Go.”
Wait. You’re talking about me? “Blue?”
“Just go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yeah,” the man says, “I think she should stay.”
It’s silent. Blue scratches his nose with his forefinger, then chuckles. “Yeah, she should stay.”
Blue’s balls his hand into a fist, and without notice or pause, he strikes the man hard in the face. The man stumbles back. Blue grabs my hand and pulls me away. He picks up the pace and jogging turns into sprinting. I can barely keep up with him. I turn my head to look back, but my hair flies into my face, and I can’t see much.
The man stands up and reaches behind him. He pulls a gun.
“He’s got a gun!” I scream at Blue.
Blue looks behind us, then rips me sideways. I hear gunfire. This is so not the way I wanted my life to end. The pain is sudden. The skin of my knee burns and my head cracks against the pavement. I pull my hand up to cradle my throbbing head.
Everything’s a blur, both sight and sound. Blue is yelling something, but I can’t quite make out what. My body rises up off the ground and Blue’s face becomes clear. “Are you okay?”
Am I? I take stock of myself. I realize that I wasn’t shot, but instead, the pain I feel is from being pulled into an alley by Blue. “I’m good.”
“We have to go.”
Boots pad against the sidewalk and I know the man is approaching. Blue grabs my hand and we begin to run again. Up ahead at the end of the alley is Third Street. If we can get there, we’ll be safe. For now, anyway.
As we exit the alley, I turn around one last time and see the man turning into the alley on the opposite end.
* * *
We’re both out of breath as we come to a stop behind a church on Sixth Street. We’ve lost the man, but something tells me that he’s going to keep looking for us. Blue slides down the wall of the church, and comes to rest with his legs kicked out. I’m tired, confused, scared, and a little angry that I was almost shot.
“We need to call the police,” I say through ragged breaths.
He pounds his fist against the wall behind him. “We can’t do that.”
“What?” I shake my head. “Why not?”
“Just trust me on this.”
“I don’t know how it works on the carnival circuit, but out here in the real world, we call the police when someone tries to shoot us.” I wait for a response, but he just rubs his palms against his knees. “You know what? I’m going home.”
“You can’t.”
I scoff. “I’m fairly certain that I can.”
He stands up, his back pulling away from the wall. “I don’t think you understand how serious this is.”
“What are you talking about? Of course I know it’s serious, hence my burning need to call the police.”
“Do you want to lose me?” he asks, scraping his boot across the ground.
“That’s a rather stupid question, don’t you think?” And it has nothing to do with this.
“If I told you the truth, could you handle it? If the truth changed everything, would you still love me?”
“Nothing can change the way I feel.” I move to him. “But I always need the truth.”
“The truth can be worse than ignorance.”
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know if I can.”
“I just love it when you act coy,” I say. His lips pull tight, and he looks everywhere but at me. “That’s sarcasm, by the way.”
“I’m trying to protect you,” he says and I believe him. I just want to know what he’s protecting me from.
“I can handle the truth.”
“Fine,” he sighs. “You might wanna sit down.”
“I’d rather stand.”
He thumbs his lip. “The truth is that I’ve sold drugs for my dad since I was fourteen years old. The man who was chasing us? His name’s Rake, and I killed his brother, Trey.” There’s sorrow in his voice.
“I’ve changed my mind. I need to sit down.” I pass him and take a resting position against the church exterior, preparing for the worst. I’m in love with a murderer. Any sane person would run, but I wouldn’t make it out of the church driveway before hitting the pavement. “I can’t believe you would keep this from me.”
“That’s not really fair. What is it that you wanted me to say? It’s not exactly a great conversation starter.” He reaches out his palm, pretending to meet me for the first time. “Hi, my name’s Blue and I’m a carnie. By the way, I killed someone once.”
“Point taken.”
“Can I continue now?”
I nod, unsure why I haven’t started to run.
“There was a mix-up and things got heated. I was selling coke for Trey, two ounces. I had it stored in my dad’s camper, and when I went to get it, he said that the camper was broken into and the drugs were stolen. I didn’t believe him then, and I don’t believe him now.”
“That explains that,” I interrupt, under my breath, referencing the disdain he has for his dad.
“When Trey came to collect, I tried to explain what had happened. I tried to make a deal, but he pulled a gun on me and Cookie.” He shakes his head, his face zoning in on the past. “He was high and he wouldn’t listen. I was able to wrestle the gun from his hands, but he pulled a knife and charged me. The gun flew out of my hand. He was about to kill me when Cookie shot him.”
I stand up, relieved. “So you didn’t kill him.”
“Does it matter who pulled the trigger?” he asks with a dazed look. “I took the blame with Trey’s family because I knew they wouldn’t go to the police. I accepted whatever fate I had resigned myself to and I thought it was over, but I guess I was wrong.”
“Have you tried talking to him?”
The no shit expression on his face speaks volumes. “Did you see that man? That’s not somebody you can easily reason with.”
“What about the truth?”
“Point the finger at C
ookie?” He bites into his lip. “That’s not gonna happen.”
“You would lose everything for him?” I ask angrily.
“He saved my life.”
I stare down at my hands, my thumbs digging into each other. “Then what are you going to do?”
He lets out an exasperated sigh and pulls against his short hair. “I don’t know. The only thing I can think to do is run.”
My eyes widen. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“If you stay, then I stay, because he knows your face and your name. He’s lost everything, with nothing left to lose, and he won’t stop until he has blood.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“If you think he won’t hurt you to get to me, then you’re naive.”
“Sorry, I don’t have a lot of experience hanging out with psychopaths!”
“You think I wanted this?” he yells. “It’s the reason I left the carnival. It wasn’t because I hated the job, or the hours, or the traveling. It’s because every day I spent there was another day I risked losing myself to the person I used to be. And then I met you.” His voice softens. “And I fell for you in ways I didn’t know were possible. You gave me the world, a reason to leave everything else behind. A reason to keep the past in the past.”
“Let’s call the police,” I plead. “They’ll understand.”
“That a man was killed during a drug deal? There are no innocent parties in the eyes of the law.”
An urgency to speak rushes over me, thinking if I hesitate, I might not say a word. “Then kill him,” I say, deadpan. My mouth drops in shock at my own words.
His head shakes. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” I ask dryly, unable to back down. If Rake is as dangerous as Blue says, then I don’t see any other way.
“Because I understand his anger and his pain. And stopping him right now means going down a road I can’t go down. You want me to handle him, but I’m telling you that I can’t. I will run from him, I will hide. I will beat him into the ground if I have to, but there’s already been too much blood.”