The Truth of Yesterday

by Josh Aterovis

  Where to start? I asked myself as I surveyed the room. I chose the desk and started opening drawers and sifting through the contents, trying to leave as little sign that I'd been there as possible. I hadn't done many room searches, but I'd helped Novak a few times. I couldn't help but smile a little as I remembered my first search I'd done last summer. I'd found a stash of illegally filmed videos of certain local officials caught in rather compromising positions at a sleazy motel. The manager had been taping people with hidden cameras for his own pleasure; the fact that it also netted him a lucrative side-business blackmailing the folks on the tapes was just icing on the cake. We'd called in the cops and he was promptly arrested. Last I heard, he was in jail-where he belonged.

  So far, my search of Jake's desk was turning up nothing more than a few bad test grades and one marijuana roach all the way at the back of the bottom left-hand drawer. God only knew how long it had been there, and it was hardly the kind of problem I suspected Judy was worried about. Hell, for all I knew, it was Judy's.

  The desk out of the way, I moved on to the dresser. There was nothing in any of the drawers except clothes. I'd never realized what a clothes horse Jake was, or how expensive his tastes were. Most of the clothes looked brand new or almost so. How did he afford to shop at these places? I was beginning to understand why Judy was so worried. The more I searched the more questions I had.

  I searched the closet-more clothes and a few boxes of outgrown toys and games-and under the bed, mostly dust. I lifted the mattress and looked under it, nothing. Next, I carefully looked through the bookcase, looking behind the books, and feeling along under the shelves. The only thing I learned was that Jake favored science fiction and seldom used the set of encyclopedias on the bottom shelf, the dust was so thick down there it had made me sneeze.

  Unless, I had missed something, which was entirely possible, the only place left to look was the entertainment center. I looked it over, there were only a few places that something could be hidden or kept. A small cabinet with doors at the bottom and a carved wooden box he'd placed on one of the shelves. I went to the cabinet first. I opened the doors and a small avalanche of magazines, video tapes, and photographs tumbled out, a motley assortment of XY, Teen People, EW, and gay porn. The magazines and videos I set aside after shaking them upside down to make sure nothing was hidden in the pages. All that fell out were subscription cards, but there were enough of those to paper the walls. I went through the pictures more carefully in case there was a clue in any of them.

  Most of them were of people I didn't know and the backgrounds often included palm trees, so I deduced that they had been taken while Jake was living in California. Towards the bottom of the pile, I started recognizing more of the people in the pictures. There were a few from family gatherings, the Davis clan at birthdays and holidays. The pictures of Asher caused a dull ache, but the ones that almost made me forget why I was here were the others. Ones that Jake must have been unable to throw away. One was a wallet-sized family portrait of Jake's old family, all dead now but Jake and Jamie. Another must have been taken while I was briefly dating Jake's sister Gilly; it was supposed to have been a cover, but she'd fallen for me anyway. Gilly and I were in the forefront, my arm tossed casually around her shoulder with Todd glaring from the background. And then there were several pictures taken at the huge Halloween bash Jake and Gilly had thrown the same year the photo of Gilly and me had been taken. One showed Jake, Kane, Asher, and me in costume, mugging for the camera. It wasn't a night I was all that eager to remember.

  The last one in the pile was the one that really got to me. I had no idea when it had been taken or who had taken it. It had the look of a photo taken without the subjects being aware it was being taken, even though they were looking directly at the photographer. It was of Seth and me. It had been taken at school, we were walking down the hall, and it looked like we had been talking before something had made us both look up. I didn't remember when it was taken; I hadn't even known there had ever been a picture taken of us together. For a moment, I was terribly tempted to slide the picture into my pocket-for selfish reasons-but I couldn't risk Jake noticing it was gone. I reluctantly returned it to the pile and then, after making sure I hadn't missed anything in the cabinet, shoved everything back in as near as I could get it to the way it had been when I'd opened the door. The way everything had just slid out, though, I wasn't too worried that he'd notice if anything out of place. I shut the cabinet doors on the mess and tried to shut the picture out of my mind as well. If only one was as easy as the other.

  I only had the carved wooden box to look through now. I stood up and lifted the lid of the box. As I sifted through the contents, I wondered if I was going to turn up absolutely nothing concrete. The box held nothing more than a few more photos, some discarded movie stubs Jake had kept as keepsakes and a few pieces of jewelry. The photos were of Jake's new family; Judy with her arms around Jake and Dash, Judy with her arms wrapped around Jake's neck, Jake and Dash posing comically for the photographer. All of it about as exciting and incriminating as mud.

  Then, for some reason, I took everything out of the box and picked it up. It was surprisingly heavy and a suspicion rose up in my mind. I shook it and heard a shuffling sound despite the fact that it was empty, or at least it appeared to be empty. A second, closer look showed that the outside of the box was a lot deeper than the inside. That could only mean one thing-a false bottom.

  I turned the box over in my hands and examined the bottom. It didn't take me long to see that the bottom was rigged to slide out. It was a snug fit, but I was able to move it with my thumbs far enough to get my fingers inside and push it open. When I saw what was inside, I almost dropped it. There was wad of money bigger than I had ever seen, and as I soon learned, made up of all hundreds. Where on earth had Jake gotten this? And more importantly, how had he gotten it? But that wasn't to be the last surprise the box held. There was another ticket in here. At first, I thought it was another stub, another keepsake, but on further inspection, I realized it was actually for an event that hadn't yet taken place. It was for the highly publicized AIDS Benefit Ball, a high-society function that I'd read about in the paper just last week. They were expecting everyone from the governor on down to be in attendance and tickets were starting at $300 each.

  Under the ticket was a picture that had been clipped from the newspaper. The grainy image showed an elegant looking man shaking hands with a state senator. The man was strangely familiar, but for the life of me, I couldn't place him. He was obviously some sort of big-wig, but I couldn't figure out who he was or where I had seen him. The bigger question was why did Jake have a picture of him hidden in this secret compartment?

  I looked at the picture for a little longer, then slid the bottom back into place, replaced the box's other contents and set it carefully back into the outline that had been left in the light coating of dust on the shelf. When I was finished, you would have never known the box had been touched. I slowly backed out of the room, pausing at the door to see if I had missed anything. I finally decided that if there were any more hidden hiding places I didn't know how to find them and I didn't want to risk leaving evidence of my search. It was entirely possible that there was some sort of innocent explanation for all this, and if so, I didn't want to alienate Jake for no reason. I closed the door and went to find Judy.

  I found her in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a mug of hot tea steaming in her hand. Another mug sat steaming in front of her and when I stepped into the room, she pushed it in my direction.

  “Sugar?” she asked.

  I sat down in the chair next to her and accepted the tea and the sugar. I added sugar until the strong tea was sweet enough for my liking and then we sat and sipped in companionable silence for a few minutes.

  “You didn't find anything definite but you found some things that concern you,” she stated. Judy seldom asked questions unless they were for your benefit. It was eerie at times, but you eventually got used to
it.

  “I found a joint in one of the drawers,” I said, deciding to work my way up to the big stuff. She waved that aside. As I'd suspected, that wasn't high on Judy's list of concerns. “I also saw that he'd bought an awful lot of rather expensive clothes in the last few months.”

  “In the last month, actually. I'd noticed that too, that's one of the reasons I decided to come to you for help. He didn't get the money for them from me and as far as I know, he doesn't have a job, at least not a legitimate one. When I asked him where the money was coming from, he told me to mind my own business and stormed off.”

  I nodded. “Did you buy him all the electronic equipment?”

  “You mean the TV and all? No. He just showed up with it all one day. He wouldn't say where that came from either.”

  I took a deep breath. “Do you know the carved wooden box on the entertainment center?”

  “I know there's one there; where it came from I have no idea.”

  “There's more to it than meets the eye. It has a false bottom that slides out. He had some things hidden in there.”

  Her eyes sharpened. “What kinds of things?”

  “A wad of money that probably equals about six months of my salary, if not more, a ticket to the AIDS Benefit Ball, and a newspaper clipping of a photo of a man that I know I should recognize but can't.”

  Judy frowned. Obviously, it wasn't what she had been expecting. “What in God's name is he doing with a ticket to AIDS Benefit Ball? Those things are harder to come by than plutonium.”

  I shrugged. I didn't have any clue.

  She thought a moment, then asked, “What did the man in the picture look like?”

  “Distinguished,” I said immediately before realizing it wasn't the most vivid description. I thought a moment. “He had dark hair and was tall and slim.” I shook my head in frustration. “He was handsome; beyond that I don't know. He's hard to describe.”

  “That could almost anyone,” she said with a sigh.

  I hated to see her look so dispirited. It wasn't how I was used to seeing Judy. “It could all be something completely innocent,” I offered.

  Her raised eyebrow spoke eloquently and I sighed.

  “Trust me,” she began. “I've wracked my brain trying to come up with an innocent explanation for all this and I've come up with nada. Where is this money coming from? How can he afford to buy all these clothes and expensive equipment? And now I have even more questions. How did he get a ticket for the Ball and why would he want one? And who the hell is that man in the picture?”

  “You hired me to find the answers to those questions and, damn it, I'm going to find them,” I said firmly.

  She gave me a weak smile. “Finish your tea,” she said softly.

  Typical Judy, I thought as I drank the last of my tea. I sputtered and picked something off my tongue.

  “Tea leaves,” Judy explained, taking my mug and peering into it.

  “Don't tell me you read tea leaves,” I said.

  She glanced up at me and smiled a little. “Not often, but I picked it up from a gypsy woman who lived in my neighborhood back in California. She also read tarot and palms. Fascinating woman. I'm not as good as she was; my gifts really lay in other areas, but I'm not bad. Or so she said.”

  “So what's mine say?”

  She studied the bottom of my mug for a while before answering. Her face lost all expression and when she spoke, it was in a voice so low that I had to strain to hear her. “You're fighting battles on many fronts, some are battles within, and some are battles without. Some are battles you shouldn't even be fighting. And whether you know it or not, many of the battles are intertwined. There is even one possible battle on the horizon that you haven't even begun yet, and what you decide about that battle could greatly affect the other battles.”

  I sat for a moment, not sure what to say. “That's a lot of battles,” I said finally, weakly attempting a joke. “You got all that from some tea leaves?”

  She looked up and smiled tightly, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. “Most of it,” she said simply. And then, after a beat, “I'm worried about you.”

  “Why? Because of these battles you're talking about?”

  She nodded.

  “I'll be fine,” I said with more bravado than I actually felt. The truth was her predictions had left me feeling very unsettled. I was wondering what the battles could be. The situation with Micah was one that jumped to mind, and that was most likely the internal one she had mentioned. What would the external ones be though? My investigation of Jake? And what was this mysterious future battle? I hated these vague predictions. I never knew what to think of them. One thing I did know, I most certainly did not like all this talk of battles; it sounded awful violent.

  Almost as if she was reading my mind, Judy spoke up. “I'm worried because there is a feeling of death running through all your battles.”

  That was certainly encouraging.

  “Not necessarily yours,” she added quickly as I felt the blood drain from my face. “Although, it is within the realm of possibility.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to force a carefree smile. “That's pretty vague, you know. It's not outside the realm of possibility that we could all die tomorrow. I mean, we could die anytime. I could get hit by a drunk driver or lightning could strike me when I walk outside. No one has any guarantees.”

  “No, but we can increase our chances of dying by acting foolishly.”

  “Am I acting foolishly?”

  “I don't know. Are you?”

  “I don't think so.”

  “One of the battles you are facing is your refusal to acknowledge your Gift. That is foolish.”

  “Oh great, here we go again. Haven't we been over this enough?”

  “Obviously not. You still haven't acknowledged them.”

  “Isn't that my choice?”

  “Sure, and it's also the choice of a natural artist not to draw if they so choose, or someone with a beautiful voice can choose not to sing if they wish, but if they make that choice they are throwing away a beautiful gift that could have been of benefit to others.”

  “It's not the same.”

  “Oh, but it is. You were given this Gift for a reason. It's a part of you. You can choose not to use it or to even acknowledge it, but it's still there. By choosing not to use it, you are denying a part of yourself, the same way someone who is gay and refuses to admit it is denying a part of his or herself. But unlike choosing not to sing or draw or admit that you are gay, ignoring this Gift could have dire repercussions.”

  I felt a chill go down my spine. “What kind of repercussions?” I asked in a small voice.

  “What you have is essentially an untrained Gift. Whether you like it or not, you have the ability to see things other people cannot. You have the ability to communicate with those caught between this world and the next. And that's just the Gift we know about. It's very possible that if you have that, you may have others.”

  “But how can that have dire repercussions. If I choose not to use that...Gift, and I use the term loosely, what could happen?”

  “There is some purpose behind your Gift. Something that only you can accomplish with it. And before you ask, I don't know what that purpose is. I sense that it is of great importance, but I don't know more than that.”

  “Does it involve the battle on the horizon?”

  She paused. “No, I don't think so. I think that is a separate issue. I think whatever this purpose is; it still lies in the distant future. Your decisions now, however, will affect it greatly.”

  “You mean if I decide to ignore the Gift?”

  “The path you choose affects your destination.”

  I frowned. “That sounds like a fortune cookie.”

  “But it's very true. The decisions you make now will affect when and how you face your purpose.”

  “How do I know if I'm making the right decisions?”

  “You don't. Not until it's too late to change them.
”

  I suddenly felt very small and insignificant. I didn't like the idea that there was some destiny out there with my name on it; that my life was somehow out of my control. Of course, I still had the choice to ignore the Gift, if you call that a choice. Accept it and fulfill my destiny, whatever that may be; ignore it and possibly screw up not only my life but others as well. Then I remembered something Seth had told me a long time ago, before he was killed. He'd told me that I was at a crossroads then, something he felt was significant because my middle name means crossroads. He'd said that the path I chose would affect the rest of my life and that there was only one path that was right for me. I'd thought then that I had chosen the right path and that was the end of it. I was beginning to realize now that life was really a succession of crossroads, and you had to constantly and consciously choose what path you took. There was still only one path that was truly right for me, but it seemed that, for me at least, they all led to the same place eventually. What path I chose would apparently decide how prepared I would be when I got there, or maybe even if I got there. One wrong choice and I could end up dead. Hadn't Judy said that the feeling of death had permeated my fortune? She couldn't be sure it wasn't mine.