Cicada Song

by Bradford Combs

  Chapter 34

  Stan knew that if Sara hadn’t come to him, she’d have gone to Jake; but, instead of finding her there, he found Ms. Beverly’s car, Arthur Harris’ cruiser, and another vehicle he didn’t recognize. His stomach twitched painfully as he considered the possibility that these people might already know the truth, that his family’s name could already be tarnished. What would his mother say? He paused on that thought. What would his father have said if he were still alive?

  Instead of trying to find Sara he opted to leave Anderson. He couldn’t face the hurt on his mother’s face when she found out, if she hadn’t already, and he couldn’t face Sara either; not after lying to her all these years. Phil and Ms. Beverly could take care of her in his absence. She would take care of Jake. He assured himself that he wasn’t running away, that he was just collecting his thoughts, but he knew better. He couldn’t bring himself to face what was coming. Funny, he never thought himself a coward.

  There didn’t seem to be anyone watching his home, so he snuck back inside and found everything exactly as he had left it. He debated on what he needed; and, after grabbing a few things from the bathroom, he reluctantly made his way to the bedroom, trying not to think of the adultery that had been committed there.

  He found an old picture frame that he kept stashed away due to Leslie’s jealousy. It made him sad. In the picture, he and Jake had their arms around Sara. The innocence in their eyes was undeniable. The photograph was taken before Jake and Sara started dating—they were maybe ten or eleven—and the naive faces in the snapshot had no idea what was coming their way. The guilt twisted in Stan’s stomach; and, more than anything, he wished he could protect the three of them. How would their lives have changed if that shot hadn’t been fired? He didn’t entertain the thought.

  He grabbed a second frame from the dresser containing a photograph from the night he graduated high school. He was wearing green robes, typical of an Anderson graduate, and his parents had their arms around him. They were so proud, but he remembered faking the smile. Graduation was the crowning jewel of the first year Jake had missed. It was one of the worst days of Stan’s life. His parents were excited though, so he framed the picture and put it out for everyone to see. Were they still proud? He wrapped the frames in a shirt and tucked them into a small duffle bag.

  He finished packing and hesitated before looking at the dresser again. There was one more frame sitting there, but he refrained from looking at it until now. His throat tightened as he picked it up.

  Leslie was beautiful in her white dress. It wasn’t a formal wedding, and no one was there save a few of her friends, but they tried to make it memorable. She bought a nice dress and did her hair up in a sexy sort of way. He remembered being turned on by how attractive she looked. Her smile was genuine back then, and she melted into his arms without effort.

  He stared at the bed. He didn’t want to, but all he could think about was how he’d found her. As disgusting as it was, she was smiling just like in the picture, and he wondered if the college boy felt like he did back then. The scene played itself out in his head, and the fire in his stomach boiled. He took a deep breath and wrapped the picture in another shirt but couldn’t bring himself to put it in the bag. He dropped the shirt and wondered if she would ever come back.

  No, he thought to himself. No she wouldn’t.

  Still, he couldn’t pry his eyes from the photograph. All he could see was her moment of adultery, and he wondered how many more she’d had. The tears were long flowing by now, and anger crept up his spine; he attempted to gently set the photograph down. Just before letting it go, however, he let out a primal scream and launched the picture frame against the far wall, hoping to feel relief at the sound of it shattering. There was no satisfaction. He yanked the blankets from where she and the college boy had left them and a small ring of gold hit the floor. As the wedding band disappeared beneath the dresser, he realized that she had taken it off while having sex with the boy. It sickened him.

  He didn’t know how much time had passed as he destroyed the room—upturning the mattress, knocking over the dresser, and ripping many of her dresses as they hung in the closet—but he knew that the grief was due to more than just Leslie’s betrayal. As he left the room, he grabbed every beer bottle he could find and smashed them against the powder-covered coffee table. Then he upturned the table itself. That likely alerted the neighbors, but he didn’t care anymore.

  Stan made his way to the kitchen and found a knife. He debated on plunging it into his heart, but his cowardice showed again, so he flung it across the room. He grabbed an unopened case of beer from the refrigerator and darted out the back door, hoping to disappear before news of the commotion reached Arthur. He didn’t drink—he hated drinking—but something had to give. He had to find some way to escape what he was feeling long enough to get his act together.

  He pulled his keys from the duffle bag and unlocked the garage door but then paused. Everyone in town knew his car. After punching the garage door, he retreated into an alley and left no indication as to where he had gone. The truth was he didn’t know where he was going. He just wanted to get away. He needed to vanish.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said to no one in particular, his eyes now red with anger and tears.

  He stopped just shy of the main road and questioned exactly what he was doing. He couldn’t just run aimlessly; he needed a plan. Realizing where he was, he snuck a few streets over and carefully approached the Square where Ms. Beverly had constructed the Lamb’s Book of Life. He found his father’s memorial and, mournfully, placed the framed image from his graduation on the ground below it.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry.”

  He looked at a picture of his parents; and, while guilt and emotion weighed heavily on his heart, there were no words to share with his father. Not like this, anyhow. Stan chose a destination. He didn’t know where he’d be this time tomorrow, but he couldn’t leave Anderson without apologizing to his father in person.

  It took longer than necessary to reach Anderson’s graveyard due to the secrecy of his trek, but Stan soon found himself walking between gravestones. He composed himself once more and intended to simply say goodbye before leaving. It felt good to have a plan, despite how minor it was. This plan was shattered, however, when he saw two silhouettes standing over his father’s gravesite. He cursed himself for being this predictable, but then his blood froze at the sudden recognition of the two visitors—one in particular.

  “Do you think it’s true?” Sara asked in a soft but unmistakable voice.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  It was the second voice that angered Stan. What was Ellis Barnes doing back in Anderson? He promised to leave Sara alone, yet here he was with his arm around her waist, comforting her, and she was leaning into his shoulder like a love-struck teenager. It wasn’t his job to comfort her, it was Jake’s.

  “Do you really think he’ll come?” Ellis asked.

  Stan ducked behind a tall gravestone as Sara nodded.

  “Yes. We don’t know where he is but Phil said he was pretty upset. I don’t know what his plan is, but he’ll come here before leaving Anderson.”

  “How long are you willing to wait?”

  “As long as I need to.”

  “Then I’ll wait with you.”

  Stan’s throat tightened but the fire in his belly was boiling. Ellis strolled into Anderson all high and mighty and lied about not wanting to pursue Sara; yet, there he was, taking advantage of her pain. He was trying to pull her away from Jake, despite the promise he’d given. Stan debated on setting him straight right then and there, but that would have made Sara furious, and she’d been through enough already.

  The pounding in his temples was severe, so he quietly moved away from his father’s grave and made his way toward an old creek. He plopped himself down on a familiar rock and covered his face with his hands. His mind felt numb. He was angry, remorseful, and confused. All he could think about was how
badly he wanted to rest, but there was no rest for him. No rest for the wicked, as the saying went.

  Opening the duffle bag, he grabbed a bottle and pulled on the top.

  “Nothing’s wrong with a casual beer,” he tried to convince himself in a calm voice. He just needed to take the edge off.

  He planned on leaving Anderson but couldn’t desert Jake like this. Jake needed Sara; yet, here she was, being wooed by Ellis Barnes. He thought about Leslie and her college boy and began making a parallel. The similarity was faint, but an affair was an affair.

  He finished the drink, but he was still too angry, too frustrated. He took a breath and opened a second bottle. He wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t even buzzed. One more should be okay.