The Year of the Great Seventh

by Orts, Teresa

  Nate’s black eyes were turning milkier. His hands balled into fists. The veins on his arms stood out. His entire body was shaking. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him. Nate’s shoulders heaved with each gasp.

  I mouthed soundlessly. “What’s happening to you?”

  He repeated something to himself. It sounded like “Amatus, Ematus, Ametus.”

  My purse slipped from my hands and all my stuff scattered on the ground. I stood, unable to move, watching my cell phone hit the ground and observing the battery detaching from the back with the impact. The phone bounced and performed a perfect somersault before landing again. My keys, necklace, and some coins fell out of the purse as it hit the ground.

  Then I heard a loud noise. Nate had collapsed against a car and the side window was smashed.

  “Are you okay?” I yelled in panic.

  Nate leaned on the car to avoid falling flat on his face. He struggled to shake his head from side to side. “Don’t… get close… to me… Stay… where you…” and his voice faded.

  His eyes were closed as though he was trying to piece himself together.

  I didn’t understand why he was asking me to stay away. I observed him from a distance without knowing what to do.

  A puddle of blood formed beneath him.

  “Nate, your arm,” I stuttered.

  Nate opened his eyes and saw that blood was dripping from his arm. Then he shut his eyes, hinting that the cut on his arm wasn’t his biggest problem at the moment.

  His gasping was relenting, and the shivering was slowly ceasing. He was probably going to need some stitches, as he was bleeding a lot.

  “Let’s call an ambulance,” I suggested.

  “No… no… I’m okay,” Nate rushed to say, his hand clenched around his bleeding arm.

  “It’ll stop soon.” His reassurance was unconvincing.

  This situation was truly scaring me. I was worried about Nate. There was something really wrong with him.

  “Nate, enough… You need to tell me what’s going on,” I demanded as I bent down to gather my stuff.

  Surprisingly, Nate automatically nodded his head. “I know. I will. Is your car close?” he asked, leaning on the car and seemingly still in pain. “Can you take me home?” he followed, staring at the large blood stain that now covered most of his shirt.

  “Yeah. I’ll take you home.” I couldn’t leave him here in that condition. “Wait! But you need to tell me first what’s going on.” I’d fallen for his “I’ll tell you later” trick before.

  “I’ll show you, when we get to my house. I promise.” His piercing black eyes fixed upon me.

  I wasn’t sure whether to trust him, but as this was some sort of an emergency, I decided to give in and take him home quickly.

  “I’ll bring the car over here,” I suggested.

  Nate nodded without questioning.

  I brought the car over and Nate got in. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around his arm. The blood on his shirt was alarming. It looked as if he had murdered someone.

  Following Nate’s directions, I drove down Sunset Boulevard and quickly predicted where we were heading: Beverly Hills. There was no other neighborhood where Nate could live. His expensive car gave it away. It made me wonder again why he would attend West Hollywood High if his parents were that rich.

  Something inside me said I wasn’t being very responsible by going to Nate’s place. I wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, and I was taking a chance by driving him home. But there was something special about him. It was incredibly easy to silence the common sense voice in my head. It was as if he’d cast a spell on me.

  We took a turn onto Foothill Road and continued to Calle Vista Drive. Then after a tight curve, Nate pointed to a massive steel gate, and he grabbed a set of keys with a remote control from his jeans. He pressed it, causing the gates to open in front of us. The gates had a central golden emblem with an “S” and an “E” centered in the middle.

  “What do S and E stand for?” I said curiously, moving a lock of hair away from my face to take in the view of the fancy house appearing behind the gates.

  This wasn’t a really good time to make small talk, but I couldn’t resist the curiosity. Nate was allowing me to enter his secret world. I knew for a fact none of his friends had ever been here, and I doubted they even knew he lived in Beverly Hills.

  “Shawn and Evelyn. My parents.” Nate stowed the remote control back into the pocket of his jeans.

  As we finally crossed the gates onto Nate’s property, I felt how distant my world was from his. I realized that we belonged to two different realities. Before this evening, I suspected his family didn’t exactly have money problems because he always wore designer clothes and drove a fancy car. But this was more than I could have imagined. He lived on Calle Vista Drive, which was one of the most prestigious addresses in L.A. His neighbors were millionaire movie stars and celebrities. There was something here that didn’t add up.

  The house wasn’t pretentiously large, but the grandiosity came from the minimalist design, which reminded me of the Guggenheim Museum in New York.

  We drove through a vast garden. There were spotlights placed strategically along the facade of the house, highlighting the refined, simplistic style. None of the walls or roofs had a parallel line. Somehow it looked like a Lego structure with different geometrical shapes that had been magically stacked together. Some of the overhanging parts of the first floor seemed suspended in the air.

  I parked Mom’s Toyota under an oak tree, next to a row of cars in front of the main entrance. My car knowledge was utterly nonexistent, but I could differentiate cheap from expensive cars. Certainly, these cars fit the second category. I couldn’t help but wonder why they would need seven cars if there were only three of them.

  Grabbing both sides of the car door, Nate pulled himself out. He kept his hand against the cut to stop it from bleeding.

  I dashed out of the car to help him, but he rushed to say, “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

  I stood in front of the house, stunned by its beauty. I couldn’t bring myself to believe how much money Nate’s parents had and how little mine did. Obviously, the world’s wealth was concentrated in just a few.

  Nate must’ve noticed my wide-open mouth as he murmured bitterly, “Don’t worry. I never felt I belonged here. It feels like a hotel to me. Would you mind? It’s unlocked.” Nate nodded toward the front door, his hand clenched to his arm.

  I leaned on the door, causing the gigantic wooden frame to open, and Nate squeezed past me.

  Looking around the house, I quickly understood why he referred to it as a hotel. The main ground floor was an open space with the kitchen off to one side. The left part of the room faced the garden and was surrounded by glass panels. The decoration was very minimalistic, to the extent that our steps echoed off the walls. There was a huge plasma TV hanging on the wall, a white L-shaped sofa, and three stools next to the kitchen island.

  If Mom walked in here, she would think the tenants hadn’t moved in yet.

  Nate seemed lost in his thoughts. “Let’s go upstairs. I want to take this off,” Nate said, staring at the large bloodstain on his shirt.

  We climbed stairs that led to a corridor with two doors. Nate walked past the first door and turned into the second one. I followed him into the second room and stood by the door, as I didn’t want to seem intrusive.

  His room was even more soulless than the rest of the house. It had a plain white bed and a plasma TV. The walls of his room were pure white, except the one to the right, which was covered with wood panels.

  Nate pushed in one of the wood panels, and magically, the rest of them slid to the side, unveiling a walk-in closet. Without thinking twice, Nate took off his shirt and hurled it into a bin inside the closet. I could sense the temperature of my face rising. I didn’t know where to look, as I didn’t want him to see me checking out his half-naked body. But I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him.

  Well-d
efined muscles interlocked over his torso. His wide back was adorned with freckles shaped in a funny way. They almost perfectly mapped the Orion constellation. The dim light of the room enhanced his silky olive skin. His worn jeans slid down his waist, settling on his hips. His marked hipbones emerged over the elastic of his underwear.

  Nate squeezed past me into the hallway and grabbed a bandage from a closet. Then he came back into the bedroom, and holding one end of the bandage with his teeth, he tried to roll it around his arm.

  “Would you mind?” Nate said, sitting on the bed and raising his arm in my direction.

  I sat next to him and carefully held his arm, making him extend it. The deep cut in the inner part of his forearm was still bleeding slightly.

  He rested his bare, lean arm on my thigh, his palm facing up. My heart beat violently at the sense of his warm skin. Holding one end of the bandage roll, I brought it around his arm and continued wrapping it around. I couldn’t help noticing his bare torso. The intimate situation was making the adrenaline rush through my body. After the bandage ran out, I pressed it tight and made a knot with the two ends.

  Without saying a word, Nate went over to the closet and grabbed a white T-shirt, which he put on. He stood next to the closet, looking at me. I could feel my temperature rising again. Then he turned around, stood on tiptoes, and grabbed a box from the top compartment of his closet.

  He sat on the bed next to me and handed me the box. “This is the explanation I promised.”

  Carefully, I opened the cardboard box. It was filled with newspaper clippings. “What’s this?”

  “You can figure it out on your own. Spencer Werner was my grandfather.” Nate pointed to the first newspaper cutting.

  I read out loud. “Internationally awarded architect Spencer Werner attacks one of the members of the American Institute of Architects in the awards ceremony.”

  I grabbed one piece of paper after another. “Mastermind architect Spencer Werner arrested for assaulting his wife in their Seattle home.”

  “Spencer Werner steps down as chairman of the American Institute of Architects.”

  “Acclaimed architect Spencer Werner locked in a psychiatric hospital.”

  “Spencer Werner commits suicide after spending two years at a psychiatric hospital,” I read with a breaking voice. “What are you trying to tell me with this?” I said, my voice quavering. My eyes fixed on the newspaper cutting.

  “You know exactly what I’m trying to tell you,” Nate explained with seriousness in his voice.

  He put the cuttings back in the box and left it to one side of the bed.

  I was in shock. My brain was unable to process any emotions. I didn’t understand anything. What was he suggesting? I couldn’t gather the courage to look him in the eye.

  Nate put a hand on my shoulder, making me turn so he could face me. I automatically stiffened. “It’s okay, Sophie,” Nate whispered. Our eyes met, suddenly unsure of each other.

  A cold fire ran down the back of my neck. All the pieces fit perfectly now. The fight, his visit, tonight’s events. There was something inside of me preventing me from accepting his confession. Beautiful Nate couldn’t be losing his mind. That was too sad.

  “Why do you think you’re like your grandfather?” I gasped, Nate’s piercing brown eyes enchanting me.

  “I’ve always known,” Nate explained, moving his gaze to the window as though he was embarrassed by his fate. The bright full moon lit up the sky.

  Nate spoke with chagrin in his voice. “When I was a kid, I was very violent. All it took was for another kid to steal one of my crayons and then my rage would take control of me. I spent my childhood years in school detention. I never really understood why I was so aggressive. Then a couple of years ago, I found that box in the garage.” He took a deep breath. “Sophie, I hope you understand it’s not that easy for me to openly talk about this.”

  “That’s what happened at Ethan’s party, isn’t it?” I mumbled.

  “Sometimes when I get enraged, I lose control of my actions. I feel the urge to get the anger out of me. If I try to ignore it, I start feeling this excruciating pressure inside my brain, as if my head is going to blow. Then I black out. I don’t really have control over my actions. By the time I come back to my senses, it’s normally too late…like at Ethan’s party.”

  He paused, as though he needed to gather the courage to continue. “But it’s getting worse. It’s okay now. That night in the garden, I could feel it coming on. When you came inside, I lost it. Tonight, I lost it again, and this time was worse.”

  A chill ran down my spine. He was openly confessing that tonight at the parking lot could have ended very badly.

  “Are your parents trying to help you?” My voice was trembling.

  Nate shook his head from side to side. “It’s quite complicated.”

  Nate was looking into the distance. It seemed really painful for him to talk about his parents. “Mom is an entertainment lawyer, and Dad is a landscape architect. We used to live in Seattle until I was thirteen. My parents always hid my grandfather’s story from me, as though by doing so it wouldn’t happen to me. I used to hear Mom crying at night and asking Dad what they were going to do. It was agonizing not knowing what they were talking about but knowing it was about me. I always thought it was just my fault.

  I attended three different private schools in Seattle, but I never really managed to last for more than two years in any of them. They took me to an endless number of psychiatrists, but they became more and more frustrated with me, as nothing seemed to calm my temper.”

  Nate was avoiding my gaze. He seemed scared of showing me that he wasn’t the overconfident person he pretended to be.

  He inhaled and fixed his gaze on his hands. Then he continued relating his story. “When I was twelve years old, one of the bullies at school, Pete, broke into my locker and scattered my belongings in the hallway. I confronted him, and we fought. That time I almost strangled him. He had to be rushed to the hospital with two broken ribs.

  “The catch of the story is that Pete happened to be Mom’s boss’s son. My parents had to face many angry parents to excuse my behavior, but this time was different. I knew, after what I did to Pete, they gave up on me. Obviously, Mom didn’t want to face her boss and colleagues after what happened. A few weeks later, she was offered a job in one of the studios in L.A. and decided to take it.”

  Nate continued with resentment in his voice. “My parents seemed really excited about moving to L.A. because they thought it would give them a chance to rebuild their lives. Well, they were thinking about a new start for them. This time around they weren’t going to let me destroy their lives. I heard Mom talking to Dad one night. She told him that I should go to a public school because in the event that I got into trouble again, it would be unlikely they would know the victim’s parents. At first, Dad was strongly against the idea, but I knew Mom had persuaded Dad when I was told I was going to attend West Hollywood High.”

  Nate paused for a moment and inhaled deeply. “To make matters worse, when we got to L.A. they took me to specialists and a psychiatrist who made me take some strong drugs. They calmed me down, of course, but that didn’t surprise me. They induced me into a state of complete numbness. It was as if I was living my life asleep. But they said the drugs wouldn’t slow the progression.

  “For the last two and a half years, after I stopped taking the drugs, I’ve barely seen them. They spend most of the time working, as if they’re scared of being alone with me. It doesn’t matter if I don’t come home for days at a time. I don’t question their parenting, and they don’t question where I am. They always make sure I have more money than I need.”

  Nate told the story in a cold, neutral voice, as if none of this really mattered to him. He was probably too tough to cry, but he couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes. They shone, holding the tears he couldn’t cry.

  The cruelty of Nate’s parents toward him was despicable. How could anyone alie
nate their only child because he was troubled? I realized how lucky I was to have such caring parents. I knew regardless of what kind of trouble I got myself into, Mom and Dad would always stand by me.

  “You have to take those drugs. You’re endangering your health by refusing,” I said, trying to make Nate come to his senses.

  Nate shook his head from side to side, his lips curling into an unpleasant smile. “Please, don’t.”

  I’d been taught to never give up and to never lose hope, and even more so in an occasion like this, involving someone’s life. Nate was a bright student and quite normal most of the time; there had to be something or someone who could help him. I wasn’t going to let him waste his life away just like that. “Nate, but you can’t—”

  “Please, don’t,” Nate quickly interrupted. “Your parents might be wondering where you are. It’s quite late,” he said, checking his watch.

  It was already ten thirty. I’d completely forgotten about the time. If I didn’t want Mom to ground me, I had to make it home by eleven.

  “You’re right. I have to go,” I said, springing to my feet. “But wait. What about you? Will you be okay?”

  A hint of a smile appeared on Nate’s face. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  We headed downstairs, and when we passed through the living room, I realized why this place had such a cold feel. There was no sign of life anywhere: no family pictures, no coats on the hangers, no plates left from the previous night. It was somehow a reflection of Nate’s soul.

  “Hey, Sophie,” he said as we walked outside the house.

  “Yes?” I said, admiring the row of fancy cars parked next to my car.

  Nate grabbed my hand to make me turn to face him as though he was going to tell me the most important thing I would ever know. I stiffened at once, as he’d caught me unprepared. The moonlight filtered through the leaves above us.

  He stood right in front of me at an uncomfortably close distance. “I know this may sound strange, but there’s only one way you can help me. My problem will aggravate with time, and I couldn’t forgive myself if I ended up hurting you. It’s best if we don’t…”