by CL Walters
Someone from the crowd yells: “Teacher!” and the crowd disperses.
Security guards pull Seth and Gabe apart.
They are both bloody, dripping wet, breathing hard and so angry they aren’t seeing straight. It is difficult to tell them apart.
“This isn’t over,” Seth says and spits blood.
“Yes, it is,” a security guards says and holds Seth by the back of the neck. Someone else has Gabe by the arms. I watch them disappear into the building.
Adrenalin courses through me mixed with fear, sorrow, and an unidentified need. I want to fix this. I want to rush into the school and tell them both to freaking grow up. Somehow, I climb into Brutus, and with my head in my hands sob. Then somehow, I make it home through the tears in my eyes and Brutus’s windshield wipers clearing the glass but not my misty eyes. Then somehow, I’m pacing the kitchen, worried and restless. I don’t know what to do, how to help, and the need is so persistent in my body, I can’t calm myself.
There’s a knock at the door drawing from my bed. I open it to Hannah. “Oh my god, Hannah,” I say and fling myself out the door into her arms.
“I heard and came right over,” she says.
33
LETTING GO
It’s a little after 7, the dark sky closing in around the glowing house. I can’t find the focus to do any homework, so I try watching TV. Hannah stayed at long as she could. As soon as she left, the anxiety bubbled back.
Gabe? I text him, but he remains silent.
I think about texting Seth, but I don’t think he will answer.
Are they alright, I wonder? Worry paces with me.
The house is quiet and I’m alone but for the thoughts and doubts swirling through my mind.
Mom texts: Dad and I are out - counseling and dinner. Brothers at Basketball conditioning. On your own for dinner.
Not that I could eat.
I continue to replay the fight over and over in my mind. The pain each of them feeling and transmitting to one another. Tears I thought I’d gotten under control fall again. The noise and flashing of the TV screen adding to my anxiety.
I walk into the living room and turn on the fireplace. The rhythmic glimmer of the flames with its quiet white noise hum provides the ambience to begin to calm my frenetic mind. I wrap myself in a blanket and sink to the floor to watch the light. The heat of the fire seeps into my skin, and I finally breathe.
The blaze flutters back and forth and beckons me to mentally crawl inside. There is a semblance of calm there so I drift with the heat. I think of Seth and Gabe, the fight and shake my head back into the present negating the earlier relaxation. Where are they now? Are they safe? While I knew both of them had been carrying heavy loads of anger around with them, I hadn’t realized what that might look like. Sorrow makes me ache, a fidgety unease that seems to tighten the muscles to my bones.
A knock at the door startles me. I look out the window and see Gabe standing on the porch - a face I hadn’t expected to see. A wave of relief washes me. I open the door, and for the second time in just a couple of hours launch myself into someone’s arms.
Gabe’s quick intake of breath alerts me that he’s hurt. “Oh, no. I hurt you,” I say and lean back to look at him, a bruise blooming on his cheek.
“No.” He shakes his head and tightens his arms around me. He nestles his face into my neck where it meets my shoulder, and I understand that he hasn’t come to bring comfort. He’s seeking it.
I draw him into the house, shut the door, and lead him into the living room by the fire. I help him remove his jacket and he winces as he does, the firelight illuminating his face. I reach out and touch his cheek with my fingertip. “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
He passes me and sits on the edge of the couch, leans forward with his elbows on his knees, and absently rubs his fingers. I realize he’s Quiet Gabe and leave him to make a cup of tea like Hannah did for me. When I return, he’s staring into the fire but unseeing. I set the cup on the end table and then settle onto the floor near his feet, my elbow draped over the seat of the couch near his hip.
“I told Dale and Martha,” he says. “Everything. I think that’s the only reason they let me out of their sight when I asked to come and see you,” he adds.
“Told them about?”
“Seth. The Challenge. You. The fight.” He stops talking and several breaths later says, “I’ve hurt them by hiding everything.” His voice constricts.
I reach out, put my hand on his leg and caress him. I wish comfort into him with my touch, hoping it brings relief. “They still love you.”
He takes my hand in his and brings my hand to his lips. I rise from the floor to sit next to him.
“I thought I would feel better,” he says. “Like once I was able to make him hurt, like he hurt me, I would feel better.” Gabe searches my face. “I don’t feel better,” he says, his voice full of anguish. I put my arms around him and he clings to me. His head once again nestled against my neck and pulls me even closer, “I just feel empty.” He leans into me and I hold him.
He pulls away and looks at me. I reach out and smooth the curly locks draped over his forehead.
He recaptures my hand with his and then turns his face into my palm and kisses it. “Abby,” he says, but it’s different, as though my name is a prayer on his lips. The tears pool in his eyes, and then slip over his bruised cheek. “I don’t know what to do,” he asks and his voice catches. “I’m lost.”
“I’m here,” I say and draw him into my arms as my heart breaks for him. His circle around me, and he bunches up my shirt into his hands. Like everything about Gabe, quiet and understated, so is his anguish, but I feel it like I feel the tension in his shoulders, in the weight that mutes him. I pull away and force him to look at me. “It will be okay,” I say and I kiss his tears. “It will be okay,” I say again, and kiss him again. “I promise.” I kiss the corner of his mouth.
He turns his head so that his lips meet mine. The tentative sweetness of his kiss reaches into the depth of me with curative hands drawing out my own wounds when I should be the elixir for him. I taste the salt of our tears. His hands relax and spread out over my back heating right through my muscle and bone. He pulls away, enough to search my face. “I-” he starts and then stalls unable to tell me what’s on his heart. With tenderness that melts me in my skin, he kisses me again, the hesitance of earlier gone. He speaks to me through that kiss, all the words he is unable to say.
I draw into my arms. I can’t get close enough. I want to provide him the respite he needs.
The kiss deepens. Gabe scoops me toward him and then adjusts us, drawing my hips toward him and laying my shoulders against the cushions of the couch. He follows, nestling himself between my legs, but holding his body hostage, away from me until I insist with my persuasive hands; he releases his weight. I sigh as though relieved to take the pressure of his gravity. He stops, pulling away to look at me as though afraid.
“Abby.” My name sounds like a prayer leaving his lips. I need -” he starts but doesn’t finish the thought.
I kiss him. What he was going to say is flowing through me too. A need. It’s a call toward something complete, toward finding the other half of whole. It’s the drawing of the tide, an ebb and flow, of the moon and the sea, one needing the other to find the balance. I’ve been wandering the house afraid, anxious, because a part of me has been with him. “Gabe,” I say but can’t draw away from his mouth for long. I don’t know if he can understand what I’m trying to say; I don’t know what I’m trying to say because the desire I feel, the emotions are bound together in an entangled knot. “I need you. Like air. Like water.”
He’s watching my face, runs his lonely tongue over his lips and kisses me again communicating what I’m unable to say with his body. I revel in his tongue moving with mine, his hands on my hips and his skin against mine. I shiver even though the heat between us searing. He growls low in his throat, and trails kisses along my jaw and down my
neck.
“Gabe,” his name now a prayer in my mouth.
He draws away, his forehead resting against mine. The passion in his look, the beauty of his eyes, hooded with wanting and warmth. Then he says, “Abby. God. I love you.” I draw him back toward me and he says, “I love you.” He punctuates each word with a kiss on my face. “I love you so fucking much.”
I kiss him again.
He pulls away. “Wait. I have to say this,” he says.
“Now you want to talk?” I smile and search his face. It is serious.
“I thought I was broken. That I couldn’t love.” He runs a hand over my face, smoothing the hair. His thumb caresses my bottom lip.
“Gabe-” I start but he presses his thumb against my mouth to silence me.
“I mean it. You brought me back, Abby. Back to life.”
His words are a salve.
“The good,” I say kissing his thumb. “You, Gabe. You make me feel like the best version of myself.” I kiss him with all the feeling I have pent up in my heart, emotion that I have known, but have never understood could be this sharp and profound. “I love you,” I tell him, finally, having held it back for so long. “I love you,” I say again.
His hands slide to the small of my back and lifts me closer, my hips fitting with his. The intensity and abandon of our kissing abdicates our individuality for the mutual healing of the other. Both of us surrender willingly. I sink into it, into him, into the fathoms of paradise in his arms.
I reach for the hem of his t-shirt and slide it up and over his head and freeze when I see the bruising. “Oh,” I breathe, sliding my fingertips across one. He shivers under my caress. “I’m sorry you’re hurt,” I say and kiss his shoulder.
“Abby,” he says searches my face with his beautiful eyes. The firelight dances against his skin.
I kiss his chest and murmur a question against his skin.
“I-” He stops. “I want-” he looks at me, searches into the depths of me, and I feel the wanting deep and low.
I nod. “Me too.”
“I haven’t-” he starts, and then glances away as though embarrassed.
I look down, at the way our bodies are pressed together, the place we meet, and feel the ache of wanting so deeply that I want to be medicine. I find the button of my shirt, and begin to unbutton it one button at a time. I know without a doubt, this is my present, my now and the piko of my future. I look back at him, focused on his eyes, and say with as much confidence as I can muster, “We can learn together.”
He answers me with another kiss and shows me all of the love he as for me in his heart.
34
THE PALL OF SOMETHING UNSEEN
I sit in my room, later, staring at my reflection in the window. I can’t stop smiling. The glow of Gabe, an aura I think I will never lose. I walked him out to the truck, and he kissed me before getting in. Then I kissed him once he was seated. And then he kissed me, dragging me in to sit on his lap. “You better get home,” I eventually said, “or you’ll never be allowed to my house again.” He kissed me one last time.
My stomach aches with longing thinking about it.
I look back down at the Science text I’ve been trying to take notes on for the last thirty minutes and realize concentrating on my homework isn’t going to happen.
My smile fades as a pall wraps its arms around me. My thoughts drift to Seth. I shiver. I hope he’s okay. I shiver, again, suddenly cold and pull my comforter from the bed to wrap around my shoulders. I glance at the window again, because there is a feeling crawling through my insides that something is happening, but I see only my reflection against the black pane. The rain taps against the glass, a rhythm that is discordant with my heart. I know it in my bones: Something’s about to change.
35
IT’S SETH
I wake up in a mood. I can’t explain it. Despite the sunshine reaching through the clouds on this cold day, sublime moments spent with Gabe last night and the opportunity to see him in the aftermath of I love you, my heart is stormy. My sleep was restless, my dreams frightening as though I had gone to hell and was stuck, frightened and alone. When Nate knocks at my door, I snap at him. “What?” I feel bad the moment I say it. It isn’t his fault and the look on his face doesn’t assuage my guilt. He’s pale. “Are you okay?”
“Mom said to come downstairs,” he says.
“What’s wrong?” I ask and climb from bed. He doesn’t answer having already left my room. A feeling has been nagging at my nerve endings all night. When I walk into the kitchen, my stomach drops and nausea makes me tentative. My mom is standing near the sink, her eyes rimmed red with tears. She ducks her head and turns away the moment she sees me. My dad is still home, standing next to her; he hasn’t left for work yet. He’s wraps an arm around her and draws her closer to him. Matt and Nate are both at the bar, staring off at something unseen. Where Nate looks drawn and pale, Matt looks angry, inconsolable, his eyes red.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “What’s wrong?” I repeat and panic replaces the nausea.
“Matt got a call this morning from one of his teammates,” Dad says.
Mom turns back toward me, she wipes her eyes with a tissue, obviously unable to get them under control. “There was an accident last night.” Her chin quivers.
Fear slides down my spine and I know subconsciously even if I can’t name it. I knew it last night. I knew it with every restless toss and terrible dream. “What?” I step away from them, but the pantry door behind me blocks an escape.
“A car accident,” my dad adds.
My stomach rolls. “What? Who?”
I shake my head at them the moment his name comes from my mother’s mouth. “Seth,” she sobs.
I turn and barely make it to the toilet in the hall bathroom, purging the emotions rolling around in me. I collapse against the wall and sit on the cold tile of the bathroom. Tears stream from my eyes. No. No. No, I think but realize that I’m screaming it when my mom’s arms are around me. She’s holding me and I’m crying.
“How? No!” I shake my head. “It isn’t true. I just saw him yesterday,” I cry. “In the parking lot. There was a fight.” Even with my denial, I know it to be true; I felt it last night like a bad omen in the air.
Matt, the last twin I expect, is there, kneeling in front of me. “Abby.” His eyes are red. “Williams’s Dad said he transported Seth to the hospital last night.”
I sob, seeking breath. “He’s gone?” But I don’t believe it.
“Williams didn’t say that. Said Seth was still hanging on when they got to the hospital. That’s all he did say. They didn’t know if he was going to make it.” He swallows visibly.
“So, we don’t know. He could still be - okay?” Adrenalin mixed with hope surges through me and I get to my feet. I speak but don’t piece together coherent thoughts, just clips of thoughts edited together so that others will decipher meaning. “Go... Hospital.”
“Wait,” Mom says.
I’m already in the entry reaching for my keys on the rack. My hands are shaking and I drop them, reach for them, drop them again and reach for them unable to get a grip.
“I’ll drive you,” my dad says. “Get dressed first. I’ll meet you in the car. Matt, are you going to come with us?”
He nods his head.
As if in a terrible dream, I ready myself. It feels strange to brush my teeth, ponytail my hair, slip on a jacket, tie my shoes, such mundane tasks under awful, unsure circumstances. With each action, I’m thinking about Seth, afraid.
The car ride is made in silence. Dad doesn’t offer any words and I don’t need them Matt’s distant. I have the feeling all of us are clinging to a string of optimism and any words might cut that tether. Seth is fine. Seth is fine. Does Gabe know? And it dawns on me, no one would tell him.
I pull out my phone and message him: You awake?
Good morning. (smiley face with heart eyes)
I start a message, but what do I tell him? I know he’s
seeing my three dots, but I don’t know what to write this. I sniff and wipe the tears from my eyes blurring the image.
Gabe: What’s up? You okay?
Me: No. I write something and erase it repeatedly. I’m afraid to tell him. After last night and his raw regret about Seth, I’m afraid for him. I’m afraid for us. Going to the hospital.
Gabe: Why? WTF! What’s wrong?
Me: It isn’t me.
Gabe: Who?
Me: It’s Seth. There’s been an accident.
Look for Seth’s story in:
The Ugly Truth
Cantos Chronicles Book 2
Coming Winter 2018
By CL WALTERS
www.clwalters.net
IMPORTANT NOTES
Hawaiian Alphabet Pronunciation Guide for Hawaiian words
Vowels:
A = aw (as in awful)
E – A (long a sound as in ape)
I = E (long e sound as in east)
O = o (long o sound as in open)
U = oo (long double oo sound school)
Consonants:
H
K
L
M
N
P
W (can sound like both W and V depending on the word. Hawaiʻi for example is a “V” sound)
‘ this ʻokina is a glottal stop and is considered a “letter” in the alphabet. It is very important to discern meaning.
Ā (the line over the vowel is called a Kahakō and signifies the elongation of the vowel sound)
When vowels are strung together, they create a dipthong, but for the same of beginning pronunciation, try to preserve the original sound of each letter.
NOTES
1) Chapter one:
a) Kaiāulu: The Hawaiians had names for various winds. It depended on time of year, location on the island, direction and speed, among other various factors. One example of this is the way Hawaiians named rain as documented in the book: Hānau ka Ua: Hawaiian Rain Names by K. Gonzales and L. Akana (2016). Kaiāulu is a gentle Tradewind breeze on the Leeward Coast of Oʻahu. I used this wind name for Abby because she is from Waianae (on the Leeward Coast of Oʻahu) and she is a catalyst (brings change) in the story.