She gets out behind me, and I wait on the sidewalk to make sure that she locks the door before closing it. She forgets, so I reach behind her to do it. We get close enough for her to move away and for me to apologize for touching her shoulder with my hand.
She feels solid. Like a real woman.
There is nothing special about my hand on her shoulder, or on her lower back, which is where I now press it.
I guide her towards the entrance to Zoey’s Fish Palace. As soon as she pushes the door in all I smell is fish and grease. I watch Cadence duck her head and wonder again what she would like without that orange mop of hair on her hair. Her face is pale but has what looks like about a pound of cover up caked onto it. Whatever, I guess. Her face. Her skin. It’s her choice what she wants to smear on it.
Cadence stops ahead of me to nod at the hostess. My hand is still on her back. I don’t let myself think about this; I just stop when she stops and start when she starts. She is leading me. I follow her.
The place is small. The walls are glass windows that have been painted over with sharks and other sea creatures.
We sit at a table across from each other. I can see my car from here in the parking lot. I look past her head to a couple holding hands before taking turns holding a tiny tot—a blonde baby thing with a face covered in snot. “Are you going to talk to me or?” Cadence lets her voice die off, looking at the menu with an amusing disinterest. She’s still nervous, I can feel it. She’s trying to be rude to throw me off.
“If you want to talk, then talk. You’re the one showing up wherever I am without rhyme or reason. So what’s up? What do I need to know about you Cadence?” I don’t look at the menu because I already know what I want. I used to come here a lot. It was a nice place to think and talk.
“I don’t know. I’ve lived here most of my life, and I honestly don’t know why I keep showing up where you are. I’m not a stalker, I swear. I just felt like you needed someone who cared. I know that sounds bizarre, but I know what it feels like to be torn apart. I guess I just got the feeling that you’ve also been there.” Cadence crosses her arms, she’s looking past me and I can’t help but notice how her soft brown eyes are no longer stern.
Is she playing with me I wonder?
“Don’t act like you don’t know what happened,” I warn her, “it was in all of the papers. They had it on every major news network for like a full twenty-four hours. My miserable face has been everywhere. I don’t get to be anonymous anymore.”
Where is the waitress?
I’m ready to order.
“Have you ever heard the expression, be careful what you wish for?” Cadence is stepping into the tepid water here. I look up at her. Sensing some sort of tension, a nice girl with short hair zips over. I place my order: two chicken burgers and beer. One drink won’t hurt. They serve more than fish here. Cadence takes a moment looking the slim pickings over, before swallowing and looking at me for a second longer than she did before.
“Just a diet root beer.” She smiles politely, and the girl with the short dark hair disappears without a word.
I silently thank her. As soon as I am alone with this stranger once more the intensity that I felt before once again takes over. A change in the air. It makes me stiffer.
“What? Not hungry?” I probe her.
“I haven’t been truly hungry in a long time Malachi.” She smiles gently. “Eating to survive is one thing, but eating just because I’m bored and it distracts me is a bad habit that has stuck with me. I have already eaten my weight in chips today, I think it was today. The days all kind of blur together for me.” Her soft smile doesn’t fade. As if what she just said should be taken lightly but for some reason the words still feel heavy.
“Okay,” I say, trying to force the tension away.
It’s almost 3:30p.m. I should be headed back home or something, fully prepared to waste the weekend away. Maybe I can catch a movie, sit in the back of the theatre and drink. Sounds like a fine Friday evening to me.
“What are you thinking?” Cadence’s sudden question throws me, mostly because it’s something that Ruth always used to ask me.
My simple response dies within me. I don’t know what to say. The truth? Yeah. Maybe.
“I’m thinking about drinking today and tomorrow and making my night of misery into a beautiful and blurry thing,” I explain.
“Why?” Cadence seems upset by something. I don’t know why, so I just cross my arms and lean backwards and away.
“Why not?” I say.
“I don’t know. Maybe because it’s seriously easy to ruin your life that way? I mean I don’t mean to come across as judgmental or anything but everything can change in the blink of an eye Mal. One minute your world is peace and butterflies and the next the thing you love the most is being ripped away, and you are the one to blame.”
Her words hit home for me.
“Are you speaking from experience Caddie?” I use her nickname without meaning, but she doesn’t flinch away.
She just looks at me.
The waitress returns with our drinks, and I thank her politely. Caddie has looked down and away from me; her eyes burning, but she doesn’t say anything. She just takes her straw and sticks it in her drink.
I sip my beer and wait.
Leave Me Be - Cadence
Why won’t he stop looking at me? He is making me want to scream and throw things. Anything and everything.
My manners have up and died apparently. I don’t have a lady-like bone in my body. I’m starving, but eating in front of such a gorgeous specimen would only make me want to puke and crawl out of my skin. I can’t sit across from him. I can’t stand it. This nervousness is making me want to pee my pants. I need to stand and run and never talk to him again.
I can’t do any of that. I know I can’t.
“If you have something to say then just say it,” I demand, stealing his speech from the car and rewording it. His eyes are deep and green and fresh, and they make me mad. Has he always looked this sad? His face looks broken. Will he ever learn to smile again?
Mal just picks up his beer bottle and tips more of the brown liquid back. I have nausea in my stomach. Last night I think I got drunk, I must have. I can’t fuck some random guy without a little bit of liquid courage. I feel sick just thinking about it, and I know that I will have to do it all again before the day ends.
Fuck this. I start to stand.
“Never mind, forget that I mentioned any of it. I need to head back, my roommate should be getting home any minute, and I need to check in on him.” That’s bullshit. I have no idea where Torrance is, and I have no business looking after him. Despite that being the reason that he let me move in, he was lonely and sad. I felt bad. Whatever friendship we had at the time no longer exists, but Mal doesn’t need to know that.
“Well I would forget about it, but you know that’s not an option. Considering I have no idea what the hell just happened.” Mal has apparently decided to be a prick again. Fine, I can handle that.
I stand up to leave him, and the table moves away from my hasty exit. Mal doesn’t move an inch. He just takes another slow and careful sip. I have officially had it. I push my hair back and start for the front door, storming right past the pissed off looking hostess.
I don’t care about leaving my pop full to the brim, Mal can have it. I trust that he’ll pay for it.
The sidewalk outside is still damp. I glare at Mal’s cool car and storm past it. My hair is flying in the air. I really should comb it or shave it. Make it nicer, but whatever I’ll figure it out later. I head towards the park; the lake always looks awesome this time of year.
I see a headstone that wasn’t here before. That’s weird, considering this isn’t a graveyard.
I start towards the glittery water. I have to cross the parking lot to get there; someone honks at me, and I wave my middle finger. I want to find the source that has drawn me out here, but I don’t know where to start. Something deep and embarrassi
ng inside of me wants to find the secret to Mal’s heart. I know that no key in my current possession would work.
How did he get so hurt? Why do I care?
His feelings are none of my concern, we all have battle scars. Mine continue to burn as I stalk towards the water. The headstone tells me that I’ve made it half way there. I have to look at the name because someone is buried here, and it matters. Death always matters. If it were my brother…if he were buried in the earth, I wouldn’t want anybody to pass him by with their nose in the air.
Ruthie Jane.
Loving friend.
Daughter,
I will forever wait for us to be together.
Those are some heavy words.
Why did her family bury her here? Alone? Without any other dead souls to talk to or get to know? That sounds twisted, I know. But that is how I picture the after world. A bunch of dead people sitting around a large table, sharing some coffee and a few smokes. Telling stories and jokes. That idea is the only thing that gives me hope; I can barely live with myself now, but I wouldn’t be able to at all if I thought for a second that Alex was alone. Wherever he is now, I hope he’s surrounded by laughing and joyful fools.
He loved to smile. When we were kids, he used to attack me with water balloons. I would yell at him and send him to his room, but I would give anything for that time back now.
I miss him. He was my home. I have less than nothing now.
Where Are You Now? - Mal
I watch Cadence go. I even turn halfway around in my chair to do so, before waving down the waitress and asking for the bill. My food is ready, but I will take it to go. She looks annoyed, so I tip her well. I get up and go, tossing my food into the back seat of my car.
I have lost interest in stalking Cadence now, whatever game she wants to play she can play it by herself. I am done for right now.
The sky is once again a beautiful blue. I keep my windows rolled down and drive towards my house, heading back through downtown. Since it’s early none of the weirdos that live in town are out. No one is pounding on car windows begging to be helped out. I’m thankful. Does that make me sound cruel? I honestly don’t know. I just hate when people put their hands all over my Chevy™. It’s a precious beast you know? A precious beast that I may also like to call Michelle, but that’s a secret that not even Ruth knows. Or knew.
Fuck I hate having to talk about her in past tense and all. It screws with my mood. I turn up the radio and tune my thoughts out, looking ahead at the road. Cars weave in and out and I do as well, blinking before I cut off someone but not doing much before cutting off someone else.
I just don’t care right now. I don’t care at all. About anything at all. It feels terrible.
I don’t head home after all because what would be the point in that right now? I decide to head out. I need a night on the town. I have no idea where to go.
I always drink alone, at home in my bedroom or my living room. Playing some first person shooter game or simply watching the sun go down. I’m pathetic. I already know so I do not need to be told. I decide to head to the pool hall. We have one right behind the mall, which is on the south side of Three Hill. We don’t have a whole lot of town but the good and the bad sides are divided clearly. A line is practically drawn in the gravel.
I’m on the good side now. The south side hardly has a crime rate at all; the north side is a whole other gong show. Robberies, home invasions and carjackings are a common occurrence.
I never let Ruth cross those tracks. I wanted to protect her until the very end, even if she wasn’t always aware of it. She was stubborn and careless. That was one of the things that I hated the most about my best friend. When she was still around that is, I hated her ability to talk herself into any situation, without having a way to talk herself out of it. We talked about it, we fought about it, and she damn well knew how I felt about it, but yet, because she’s dead, I feel like I left so much unsaid.
I want to say it. I want to scream it. I feel like I have. Have I gotten through to her yet?
Say It Again - Cadence
I hate this town and everything in it. I’m walking in stupid directions at random. I have no idea where I’m headed. I have nothing with me. No purse, no wallet, no cell phone and no jacket. I remember having my wallet at Walmands. I hope that I didn’t lose it or leave it somewhere random. I will die if it was stolen.
Okay, that was a tad dramatic but you get what I’m saying. My entire life is in that wallet. My favourite photograph of Alex is in that wallet. He was thirteen when I took it at the fair with a cowboy hat hanging off of his head.
He was hilarious. Adorable.
He took my heart with him. I don’t know if I’ll be ever to get it back or if I’ll be the same again. I doubt it.
My parents are fucked up for good. I know that because I saw it happen first hand. A week after my brother’s accident, we were told that we should bury him. They wanted us to pull the plug on him. They wanted us to give up on him. They wanted us to stop believing that he would come back again.
A week. That’s it. Seven days.
They were heavy worded and short-handed, the nurses, the specialists. I remember only parts of them, random moments. Like having to buy new shoes at the only store open past 5 p.m. because I puked on mine. I was too afraid to see him hooked to machines and lifeless in a hospital bed. The cashier was a total bitch and yet I know that that shouldn’t have mattered but it did. There were moments of that week where every part of my existence was in high-def.
I remember the blonde woman who handed me the clear plastic bag with my new shoes in it. She didn’t smile, or tell me to have a good day. She just glared and I left. I remember her dimples. Her chin. The way she laughed at me when I left. I was only twenty years old then. Seven years have gone by so fast.
Alex was sixteen. A kid. He wasn’t ready for what the world had in store for him, but he should have gotten to experience it. He didn’t. I can’t help but wonder sometimes if I wouldn’t have been born, if Alex has been an only child instead of the youngest, would he still be alive? People always say that when it’s your time to go, it’s fate. Nothing can change it. I don’t believe that. What happened to Alex, it wasn’t an accident? It wasn’t fate or anything like that. He was trying to protect me, and I failed him.
I was a fuck up back then, even worse than I still am. Hard to believe isn’t it? That the current version of me is the good one and yet still, I am a reckless and horrible person.
I hate talking about what happened to Alex. I hate thinking about it because I feel like that makes it fact. I would rather pretend like it didn’t happen, but I can’t. I hate the fact that me getting shit faced meant him trying to come get me with his best friend. He tried to rescue me alongside Torrance. They were both just kids. Innocent and sweet kids.
Torrance never grew out of that, even though he got the chance. Every day I am so thankful that he did. Get the chance that is.
Alex. Sweet brown eyed Alex. He had sandy blonde hair and a sweet dimpled grin. He was small and always blended in; the girls in town loved him. Actually scratch that, they adored him. Everyone did.
Now seven years have gone by so fast and he’s still lifeless on that same fucking hospital bed. He’s brain dead and only breathing because we refuse to say goodbye to him. I can’t even find the courage to go see him, touch him. I can’t stomach seeing my parents or my old friends. What the hell happened?
Take Me Back - Mal
The pool hall is crowded. It’s also filthy and smells stale. The carpet is sea-foam green. The pool tables closely placed, I watch a smaller dude get elbowed with a pool cue. Laughter and shouting echoes. I feel overwhelmed. I should have expected this, but I didn’t. I walk in and head right for the back, pulling out my licence and handing it to the nice chick with the decent sized rack.
She smiles and takes it, asking me what I want. I order beer because fuck it. I don’t care what she thought or what anyone else thought. I am a
desperate man trapped in a drought. I need refreshment, and I need a lot of it. I see the sweet brunette walk in but don’t think much of it. She wonders around the edge of the room, with her hard eyes downcast.
I take a sip. My beer tastes bad but still I swallow it. I sit on a bar stool but give the bartender my back.
I feel like a jackass, like I should be wearing more plaid. Maybe then I would stick out less. I look at the faces that surround me. Faces that laugh and smile before taking a pretty girls hand.
I watch all of this emotionless. Well, almost emotionless. I’m still eye stalking the cute brunette. She doesn’t look old enough to be in a place like this. She looks shy and upset. Black cords are hugging her hips. Brown jacket is hanging open. Her top looks like it’s made of some clear plastic wrap.
Ugh. Okay then…
I lean back and rest my arm on counter top. All I can think about is Cadence, and I hate it. I hate that I made her mad, but I’m still proud that I did. It was nice to see her react. It was nice to see her brown eyes turn blood red. She smelled of cigarettes and cinnamon.
She couldn’t sit still for more than a moment. Right away I noticed that. She was always moving, always playing with her hands, always biting her bottom lip, always looking somewhat sad. I was indifferent to this. Indifferent to her facial expressions and her inner demons. She was just someone I had forced against, she showed up at my house a few times, we’ve gone out to eat and now that will be that. She can lay whatever sick interest she has in me it to rest. I will not be seeing her again.
Lie Against - Cadence
Saturday was awful from beginning to end. I woke up in my bed, for once actually in it instead of you know, just thrown haphazardly on top of it. I blink at my alarm clock. The sun is out; my room is full of it. Someone has been brave enough to push the curtains back, illumining my paper thin walls with the sun’s eerie glow.
Ache for You (Trapped in Three Hill Book 1) Page 11