When we got back to the coast with Caleb's boat it was quite late. We knew if we called the police we would be held up for days, so we left a note on his body, explaining what happened. An autopsy would show that he died naturally. We placed a call to the police at a pay phone a few miles away and started back home.
Rawley was just as depressing as it was before we had left, not just because of the claustrophobic atmosphere, but also because of the fact that Samantha lived there. It was as if I could physically feel her presence. The only good thing was the snow had thawed.
After dropping Vlad off, we stopped off at Allison's house. I thought she would be mad at Julian for taking off the way we did. Instead she looked at him with the sort of pity one granted to people who's dog had been run over by a car.
"Julian, I'm sorry," she said, holding the door open.
Samantha was standing behind her in the hallway and after exchanging brief glances, we both looked away. I pushed my glasses up on my nose uncomfortably.
"What?" Julian practically whispered.
She pulled Julian into the house. "Ross is dead. They found his body near Lake Angel."
I held the side of the doorway for support. The ground seemed to be undulating underneath my feet.
Ross Morrissey was dead?
"He was murdered?" I said aloud, following Julian into the house in a sort of hypnotic trance-like state.
"No," Allison said. "Apparently he fell from a tree. He had a skull fracture. The police think he froze to death.
"What the hell was he doing climbing trees in the middle of winter?" I asked numbly.
"They have no idea. That's what everybody is asking."
Julian was crying, but he managed to get himself to a phone in the kitchen to call his Dad. Allison was touching his shoulder uncomfortably, not quite knowing what to do.
Samantha was left alone with me in the living room. Ross may have been a total asshole, but he certainly didn't deserve to die. I kept seeing him in my mind. It was an image of that day when he had accosted me outside my house and attempted to make peace.
"Are you okay, Harlan?" Samantha whispered to me.
I finally looked up and stared straight into her doe-like eyes. Staring into them made me realize just how much I had lost. I doubted I would ever love with this much intensity again.
"No," I said, my voice breaking with embarrassing emotion. "I still love you."
Her eyes filled with tears, and she still managed to hold my gaze, looking more heartbreakingly beautiful then I had ever seen her. "I love you too, Harlan," she said, struggling to keep her composure. "But I can't be with you anymore. It will kill me. I just don't have the strength."
"I know," I said, wanting desperately to wipe away the single tear that ran from her eye and threatened to drip from her chin. "I barely have the strength to be with myself." She got up and ran upstairs. I fought the urge to follow her, but I realized it would only make things worse. And I didn't want to hurt her anymore than I already had. She deserved so much more.
Trying to kill thoughts of Sam, my mind latched back onto Ross. The sound of a large crack reverberated through my brain and I realized just when he had died.
That night Vlad had brought that big joint. The last night we had visited Lake Angel we had heard a loud crack followed by a thud, which I recorded in my journal as probably being a bear. Ross must have followed us to the lake and then climbed a tree in order to have a good spying view. The cracking sound must have been a tree limb breaking under his muscled frame. If we would have investigated the noise, we might have saved him. The next day was when the snowstorm had hit, covering his body. I was unsure if I should even tell Julian this, although he would probably figure out on his own eventually.
Julian came back into the living room, his face sweaty and pale. "Can you believe this?" He asked me, sitting down on the couch next to me heavily.
I didn't answer him, since there really wasn't anything I could say. I wanted to comfort him, put my arm around him, but it would have been futile. He was still too stunned.
Allison came into the room with a cup of hot cocoa and handed it to Julian, who sipped it in a zombified stupor. The three of us sat on the couch for about an hour in an uncomfortable silence. Julian's Dad showed up. He handed me the keys to Fat Ethel before he walked out the door, leaving Allison and me alone.
She sighed heavily. "Do you think he will be all right?"
"Yeah. Julian is stronger than he shows. He's stronger than me, that's for sure."
Allison snorted. "Well that's not too hard."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I shot back angrily.
She got up from the couch. "I don't know Harlan, you tell me. How much strength does it take to kill oneself?"
"Fuck you, Allison. What the hell do you know about me? You think that you can simplify my strength that easily into your narrow little world? You think I want to kill myself?" She shrunk away from me as is I was threatening her. "Things just aren't so simple. How would you like to spend every waking moment feeling like you would rather be dead?"
"What the hell do you have in your life that's so bad, Harlan!" She shrieked at me, giving me my turn to shrink back. I noticed Sam standing on the foot of the stairs. "You had a girlfriend who loved you! Still loves you! You have a friend who would die for you! Do you know what Julian said to me? He said that if he can't save your life then it will destroy him! How much strength does it take to destroy the lives of the people you love?"
"I'm fucking trying!" I shouted into her face. "I try every day!"
"Stop it!" Sam shouted, coming down the stairs. "Harlan, get out!" She pulled my arm toward the door. "Go kill yourself! Just get the hell out!"
I turned around and walked out, closing the door behind me softly. I could hear the both of them crying from within the house. I got into Fat Ethel and drove back to Suzanne's house. As I pulled into the driveway, my Dad was pulling out across the street. Not recognizing my car, he sped off, most likely to a local bar.
I could see the silhouette of my mother as she crossed the window. Not knowing why, I crossed the road to my house. I opened the door without knocking. My mom stood there frozen, as if a ghost had walked through the front door. When she smiled at me, the way that only she could, I lost it. I stumbled over to her, crying. She held me and said nothing, just rocking me back and forth gently. Eventually, I stopped, and for some reason I felt much better.
"You don't hate me do you, Harly?" she asked, stroking my hair.
I looked up into her face. I could never hate her. You could see that at one time she was beautiful, but years of being slapped around and working hard had done its work. Her formerly blonde hair was now almost completely gray. "No, Mom. If it wasn't for you, I don't think I'd be sane."
She hugged me tight. "I'm the one who's insane, Harly. I let him beat you for all those years. I should have stopped it."
"You did stop it, Mom. Many times."
She sighed heavily. "No I didn't, Harlan. I should have taken you away. I should have taken us both away. Your father is trying now, Harlan. He has a job now—that's where he just went. He's going to AA meetings and—"
"Let's not talk about Dad."
And we talked for five hours. It was the first time in my entire life I felt my mom had seen me as a real person. The sword cuts both ways. I began to see her as a different person—worthy of more respect then I had previously given her. I learned she wanted to be a writer just like me. In fact, she had a manuscript!
She took it out from the closet, her face embarrassed. "If you read it, be nice to me. Even if it's a pile of shit, be nice to me."
I said I would. We both agreed I was better off at Suzanne's for the time being while she tried to work out things with my father.
As I left the house, my mother's manuscript in my hand, I felt different. I had never realized just how important my mother's love was to me. How much I wanted her to accept me as I was.
That night,
I read every word my mother wrote. It wasn't a masterpiece, but it wasn't bad either. It was a bleak romance in a sort of Casablanca vein. I was surprised at how attached I had become to the characters. In an ironic twist, the main character committed suicide at the end.
Chapter 25:
The funeral of my former enemy
I watched Julian walking slowly towards me from where I sat on the campus steps. His face looked pale and unhealthy. He didn't appear to have slept in days.
"Hey, Julian," I said, standing up and wrapping my black trench coat tightly around me. "I didn't think that you were going to show up today."
"If I sat at home with my father, I would lose my mind," he said, managing a weak smile.
"You okay?" I said, offering my coffee to him.
"Doing the best I can, despite the circumstances."
I was feeling really guilty. "Julian, I'm really sorry for what happened. Heaven knows I had no love for Ross, but he certainly didn't deserve this."
"Harlan, don't be an idiot. I know you better than you think. And if I'm correct, you are feeling like you caused his death in some way. Neither of us is at fault. It was stupid of Ross to climb a tree like that at night."
I sighed and we started walking towards the warmth of the school. The school didn't seem the same without Ross. It was like an adventure story without a villain.
School went by fast that day. That night, I found myself at Ross's funeral.
As I entered the funeral parlor, the strong scent of roses wafted into my nostrils. The number of people attending amazed me. For an asshole, he sure had a lot of friends. I saw many people from school crying, even some guys.
I stood in the long line. Julian was at the front near the closed casket with his father, greeting people and shaking hands with a smile so fake it appeared to be sewed on. We glanced at each other and nodded.
I kept my eyes away from the casket. For some reason, I dreaded this. It seemed that I was attending a lot of funerals these days. My life was beginning to resemble a screwed up dark comedy.
I was about to shake his father's hand when he grabbed me and pulled me close. He hugged me tightly and whispered, "Thanks for coming, Harlan. You are a good friend to Julian." Feeling a little uncomfortable, I thanked him and continued toward the coffin reluctantly.
I peered at the coffin. I tried to imagine Ross's body in the inside. I began to feel a little dizzy as the morbid thoughts came. I pictured his decaying corpse wearing a football jersey and my stomach begun to drop a little.
The coffin lid pushed open slightly. Ross was coming out.
At least that's what I saw at the moment. I know there is no way it happened and the mind has a way of conjuring up images during times of stress. I almost ran, but I managed to turn away slowly and move towards the back of the funeral parlor. Needing air, I went outside.
Samantha and Allison were standing at the steps with a bunch of Ross's football friends. One of them called me an asshole as I moved towards the corner of the building. There was no way I was going to respond to that and cause a commotion, out of respect for Julian. I found a curb and took a deep breath to calm myself as I sat down.
Closing my eyes, I imagined myself in warm water, floating to the bottom in a peaceful slumber. There was a light touch on my shoulder.
I opened my eyes and Sam was standing there, shocking the hell out of me.
"Hey," she said, smiling. "Mind if I sit down."
"Hey. Are you kidding me? Sit down, please. I could use the company."
She sat down and looked at me in a way that I desperately missed. "I'm sorry about last night."
"Me too," I said, pushing my glasses up on my nose.
She smiled and seemed on the verge of laughter. "I miss that."
"Huh?" I asked, utterly clueless. "You missed my apologies?"
"No, dope. The way you push the glasses up on your nose. You do that a lot."
I smiled back and almost touched my glasses again. I stuck my hands in my pockets. "Oh. Yeah, it's a habit I'm aware of. It's mentioned in my journal."
"So how do you feel now that your nemesis is dead?"
"Really, really shitty. I almost got sick in there. Don't make me go back in."
"I knew you'd feel like this."
"Yeah," I said, noticing the feel of her leg against mine. A single lock of hair hung over her eye and I fought the urge to brush it away. "I feel all guilty now for my adolescent shenanigans. Did I really hit him with a baseball bat in front of hundreds of people? What in the hell was I thinking? I'm an insane and very sick person."
"Yes, you are. Which is why I love you so much."
I grimaced. "Ouch. Do you have to torture me like this, Sam?"
She smiled at me and my heart began to beat. "Would it be torture if I told you I wanted us to be back together again."
I think my mouth actually dropped open. "You're serious?"
"Yes. I thought it about it all night. As long as I'm alive you won't kill yourself, got that? And if you do, I'm coming to Heaven after you."
"I've been really confused about the whole thing. I've been torturing myself for months. There are days when I wish that I could just be dead. Other days I feel like an idiot for even considering it. I do know that losing you made me realize life can suck even worse than I had thought possible." She put her arm around me and I actually almost cried I was so happy. I held it back though. Even feminine bastards like me have to show their machismo. "I promise you that I'm going to work really hard to fight my depression. Just bear with me when it hits, okay? I need you."
And my life changed that quickly.
Sometimes your life feels like fiction, with all its ups and down. The characters in it behave in a way that seems predictable, but sometimes they surprise the hell out of you.
I felt like a prisoner on death row who has just gotten a phone call from the governor granting him a full pardon.
Chapter 26:
Daddy
The first thing I have to do here, Dear Reader, is start by apologizing. Its been awhile since we last spoke. As soon as I started to feel really happy, the journal seemed to be too painful to write in. Also, I got really busy as well. I started working full time at the video store. I also began to really apply myself at school before the year ended, bringing my average up to a 3.6.
The summer was incredible. Every day I fell in love with Sam more. We've only gotten closer in the last four months. Julian even accuses us of acting like a married couple. He thinks we are too serious for our own good. I often wonder how I would be at this moment if she was no longer in my life and I shudder. She makes me laugh so much sometimes that I actually cry.
It's now the last week of August and the deadline of my suicide has passed, although that doesn't mean that my suicidal thoughts have gone. They're in my psyche somewhere, stabbing me every once in awhile with quick violence. I got it mostly under control, though.
Julian has finally begun to return to normal. For awhile, he barely spoke to any of us. In fact, he pretty much avoided me for a long time. He and Allison have broken up and gotten back together about six times, pretty much turning their relationship into a joke. I doubt they will make it through the year.
I still live with Suzanne, and she has sort of become my foster parent. We are still closer than ever, sometimes staying up until late in the night talking about pretty much anything that crosses our minds. I love the way she thinks. She can talk me into pretty much anything, and I'm probably the most egotistical and stubborn person I know.
Some of you may have wanted me to off myself. Sorry, it's just not going to happen. So any of you bastards reading this wishing for this whiny hero's early demise can kiss my ass.
You're not going to believe where I'm going. It's five in the morning, which is an ungodly hour, especially for a night crawler like myself.
I'm going fishing.
Don't laugh, that's not even the worst part. Are you ready?
I'm going fishing with
my father. I can barely believe it myself. My mother claims he has avoided the bottle for four months now. He even goes to the AA meetings religiously. Something tells me we aren't going to have one of those Hallmark moments.
I sort of dug this grave myself. I called him up and told him that I'd like to talk to him. Both Sam and Suzanne feel I would be a lot better psychologically if I really talked to my father when he's sober. He has a lot of questions to answer. I'm nervous as hell. He agreed to have this little talk, but insisted we go fishing. Sigh.
Suzanne is already awake when I get downstairs. "Good morning, Harlan," she says, putting a mug of coffee in my hand. "It's got loads of sugar and creamer, just how you like it."
"Thanks, but you didn't have to get up."
"I just wanted you to know that no matter what happens, or what he says, you have me."
I took a sip of the coffee, it was just right. "I know I do. What's he going to do, kill me?"
"Actually, I was more worried about what you might do to him. No matter what he says, don't get physical. It's not worth it."
"I won't. He's bigger and he can beat my ass." I said the last sentence with a smile.
We talked until the sun began to rise. Looking outside the window, I could see my father loading stuff into his little boat. He had his thinning hair tied into a ponytail, and despite the fact it was still a little cold outside, he was wearing only a white tank top. That was my dad, ever the macho man.
I threw on a light jacket; Suzanne kissed me on the cheek and wished me luck. I opened the door and breathed in deeply.
My father was loading a box of tackle in the boat as I came up behind him. I could see the pink scar above his ear where I had hit him with the iron. His ponytail had touches of gray in it, shocking me. I wondered how old he was. Surprisingly, I didn't even know. I do know my mother was only seventeen when she gave birth to me. I guess I had always assumed he was around the same age as she was.
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