The Sound of Light

by Claire Wallis

  “Uh, yeah he is. He’s already on his way.”

  “No, I mean he’s not coming to get us. He’s coming to get you.”

  “No. He said he would take us both home.”

  “And I’m sure he would. Probably just to make sure we both end up in our own beds and not each other’s.” I crinkle up my face in disgust, as if the mere idea is the grossest thing I’ve ever heard. “Ha-ha-ha,” he mocks, tilting his head to the side with a smirk. “As if you’ve never fantasized about ending up in my bed.”

  I move my entire body in an over-exaggerated shudder of revulsion. “I love you, Jar. But that is one fantasy I’ll never have. I know too much about you to ever go there.”

  He grabs me and squeezes me in a tight hug. It feels good. Familiar and safe. “You’re a smart woman,” he says, “but does The Mister know that? Wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea about us or anything.” He’s serious now, back to being my brother.

  “I told him we’re best friends. He’s definitely not coming to keep me out of your bed.”

  “There’s probably already someone in there anyway. No room for you.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be lined up outside your door by the time you get home.”

  “Either that or I’ll just pick one up on the way.”

  I feel sad because he’s right. I want more for him. I want him to find the right someone and believe he deserves her, whoever she is. He lets go of the hug. I look up and shake my head at him.

  “So, you don’t want a ride home, then? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Like I said, he’s not coming to get us. He’s coming to get you. I’ll wait with you until he gets here, but then I’ll get my own ass home.”

  “Suit yourself. But you know this would be a good chance for you to watch my back, Grandpa.”

  “Don’t think I didn’t consider that. But if you like this guy like you say you do, you don’t need a third wheel bringing you down. I’ll wait to interrogate him in public on Saturday night. It’ll be more fun anyway.” For him, but not for Adam, that’s for sure.

  We sit down on the curb together, side by side, and wait. When Adam pulls up a few minutes later, Jarrod offers me a double fist bump. A smack of love shoots from him to me when our knuckles connect. Jarrod looks at me, a coy smile filling up his face. The night we met flashes through my mind, and the memory, coupled with the alcohol, causes a wave of emotion to swell. I stuff it down inside, trying to hide how much it means. Everything is different because of that night. Life is different. For both of us.

  I say goodbye and get into Adam’s car.

  CHAPTER 13

  Robert McGee—1999

  Louise left two weeks ago today. She packed her bags right in front of the girls, told them to be good, and walked out the door as if she was doing nothing more than visiting her sister in Shreveport for the weekend. But I know better. I know she’s never coming back. ’Cause I know all about men like Reverend Thompson. Men who sweet-talk old folks into tossing their life savings into the collection basket. Men who claim to heal the sick with only a palm to the forehead and an “Oh, Lord Jesus” on the tongue. Men who convince wives to leave their hardworking husbands in order to build themselves some kind of harem of confused, baby-making disciples. Men who ruin families with false prayer and empty promises.

  The girls, though, they still think their momma’s coming back. I don’t tell them she ain’t, ’cause I think they’re better off holding on to some kind of hope, at least for now. Time always makes things easier, and this is no different. Rushing reality isn’t going to do them any favors.

  My girls are learning about the hardest parts of life way too young, and me cursing their momma in front of them would only make it worse, so I keep my mouth shut about Louise. I don’t say a single bad word about her. I only tell them I love them and I’ll always be here for them. No matter what. From the day they were born, I knew I would need to protect my girls; I just never thought I’d have to protect them from the heartbreak of their own momma’s departure. I’m no saint, and that’s no secret. We all got our vices, after all. But every time my Charlie cries herself to sleep after praying for Reverend Thompson to bring her momma back, my sins seem a little less significant.

  The day Charlie realizes she’s permanently motherless is probably gonna be the hardest day of the lot. And I suspect it’s coming soon. She’s a fragile girl, an eleven-year-old piece of dark-skinned porcelain, and when it hits her, it’s gonna hit hard. A full-on kick to the heart courtesy of a man in a white tent and her own mother, and there’s nothing I can do to buffer the blow other than to assure her that her momma’s leaving had nothing to do with her and her sister. Louise left because of herself, not because of her girls. I only hope they’re strong enough to realize that someday.

  I worry a little less about K’acy. She’s fierce, like a scrappy little dog constantly out to prove she doesn’t have any fleas. And, she’s a lover, always seeing the best in people—even when the rest of us think there’s nothing good to see. It’s like she can look straight into a person’s soul and find something decent to hang on to. K’acy’s my little glass-half-full; the exact opposite of her glass-half-empty big sister. She says she doesn’t hate her momma for leaving and she never will. Even if Louise never comes back, K’acy says she’ll keep on loving her, because she loved her momma’s biscuits and gravy and her dove casserole and her crawfish boil. Louise’s cooking is the “something decent” K’acy’s hanging on to. There are other things there, too, I’m sure, but K’acy’s always loved her momma’s cooking. I think it’s the thing she’ll miss the most.

  But Charlie…I can say without a doubt she’s gonna hate Louise something brutal when reality strikes. She’s gonna be a whirlwind of hatred and fury, fingernails trying to dig in and latch on to whatever negatives she can grip. That’s what she’s gonna hang on to. And I hope it doesn’t beat her down and steamroll the spirit right out of her. She’s already on the edge, just waiting for me to say the words so she can excuse herself from the calm she’s been trying to keep. The moment I serve up some kind of confirmation of the permanence of Louise’s absence, things will change for Charlie. The only thing that might keep her from dropping completely over the edge is her little sister. K’acy has a way of keeping it real for Charlie by sharing her slightly skewed view of the world. K’acy will remind Charlie of the positives, just like she always does. Maybe, just maybe, she can make Charlie think hard enough to find one good thing to hang on to. And, Lord willing, that one good thing, among all the negatives, just might be enough to keep Charlie afloat.

  I know things are gonna get worse. A lot worse. But, then they’ll get better. I’ll make sure they do.

  It’s just gonna take some time. And lots and lots of love.

  CHAPTER 14

  I’m looking out the window of Adam’s moving car, wondering who taught him how to be so nice. It couldn’t have been his father, because a giant dickhead would never think to leave his apartment in the middle of the night to pick up a slightly inebriated woman at a bar and drive her home. And a giant dickhead certainly wouldn’t teach his son to sit with his grandmother in a nursing home for hours on end. It leads me to believe Adam must’ve learned how to be so nice from his mother. He’s never mentioned her, and I’m a little afraid to ask.

  What if she had nothing to do with why he’s such a gentleman? What if she made like Louise McGee and cut out when he was just a kid? Or, even worse, what if his giant dickhead of a father snuffed her out of Adam’s life, just like he snuffed out Ms. Sinclair?

  “You okay?” he asks as my muddled mind moves from one thought to another.

  “Yep.”

  “You’re awfully quiet. You’re not upset Jarrod didn’t come with us, are you?”

  I turn away from the window to look at him. We’re pulling onto my street. “I’m so far from upset, it’s ridiculous.”

  He smiles at me. It makes my stomach flip-flop and sends a shockwave of note
s through my mind. He pulls over in front of my building, puts the car in park, and turns off the engine.

  “Sounds like a pretty good place to be,” he says matter-of-factly, opening his door and climbing out of the car. I do the same. Adam opens the back door and pulls my gig bag out, gently hoisting the straps up over his shoulders. He walks around the front of the car, steps up onto the sidewalk, and takes my hand. We walk together up the front stairs of my building. I twist the doorknob, thinking about how he’s the first person besides Jarrod I’ve ever let carry my StingRay. It means something.

  “If you’re going to carry my bass, the next logical step is for me to invite you in,” I say.

  “I didn’t carry your bass with any expectations.” He raises his right palm. “Promise. I was just trying to be nice.”

  Nice. There’s the word. I can’t help it. “You know, your momma did a hell of a job raising such a nice boy.”

  “No, she didn’t. All the nice parts come from my grandmother.”

  I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I walk into the building and gesture for him to follow. “Don’t tell me both of your parents are giant dickheads?”

  He’s behind me now, following me up the staircase. “My mother isn’t a giant dickhead. She’s just a too-busy-shopping-and-getting-her-nails-done-to-bother-with-her-own-child kind of mother.”

  “Oh.” We’re headed up the second flight now.

  “Like I said, my grandmother was my best friend. She essentially raised me. That is, until I turned eight and my father saw fit to shut her out and head west. From then on, I had after-school nannies and summer camps to raise me.”

  “Why did he shut her out?” He never gave me an answer the last time I asked, and besides, it’s way too late for patient privacy now.

  “To be honest, I’m not sure. He never talked about it, other than to tell me I wasn’t allowed to be with her anymore. He wouldn’t even let me write or call her. I was just a kid, so I figured it must have been something really, really bad for him to keep me from her. He knew how much I loved her. To this day, he won’t tell me why. Not that I ever talk to him anymore. He always just said it was for my own good. That’s part of the reason I came here. To find out why he shut her out. But now it looks like I’ll never find out.” There’s so much emotion in his voice. So much sadness and confusion.

  I open the door to my apartment, and we go inside. Adam closes the door behind me and lays my bass on the floor. That isn’t where it belongs, but at least he didn’t lay it facedown, on the strings. I don’t say a word, but he keeps on talking.

  “I mean, I don’t want to waste what’s left of my time with Gram continually prying her for answers. It’s bad enough that I have to stop myself from asking her who Bradley is. Whatever happened back then probably doesn’t matter now anyway. It’s too late.” He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, down to the back of his neck. It sits there, frozen with exasperation. He’s been thinking about this for a long time. Seventeen years, to be exact. It’s got to be hard to let go after all that time.

  “This might be totally out of line, but…maybe you’re better off not knowing what happened. I mean, maybe your gram wouldn’t want you to know. Like, what if it’s something that would change your opinion of her? Maybe that’s what your dad’s been protecting you from all these years.”

  His brow furrows, and his hand drops down to his side. “That’s a big maybe, K’acy. My dad’s not that kind of guy. He doesn’t protect other people. He only protects himself.”

  “Sounds like a giant dickhead.”

  “Like I said…” He’s smiling at me again, and it feels good. “So, are you gonna offer me a drink now or what?” It’s a clear attempt to change the subject, and his face flushes with relief when I run with it.

  “Let’s see…I’ve got beer, water, and Gatorade. What can I get you?” I’m already on my way to the kitchen as I ask.

  “Beer.” He takes a seat on the sofa. I can see him over the half-counter between the kitchen and the living room. Adam’s head swivels from side to side; he’s checking the place out. “Your apartment’s really great. I like the layout.”

  I open two bottles of beer and walk back out. “Thanks. I’ve only lived here a year or so. Took me a while to save up. My place before this was a bit of a dump.” He takes a beer from my outstretched hand, and I sit down on the sofa next to him. Not too close, but not too far away either. “How about you? Where’s your place?”

  “It’s over in Mount Airy.” That would be why he was only a ten-minute drive from The King’s Court. “It’s a decent one bedroom. I had a real estate agent find it for me so I’d have somewhere to live as soon as I got here. Someday I’ll pick out my own place, but this one will do until the lease runs out.”

  Adam and I talk for a long time, snug against each other on the sofa, taking sips of beer in between words. I learn more about his time in Seattle and share my thoughts on growing up in Louisiana. It’s easy, and before I know it, it’s close to three in the morning. I’m not drunk, or even buzzed anymore, but I’ve got to go to work in a few hours.

  Still…I don’t really want to ask him to leave.

  When we finally stop talking, Adam slumps down in his seat and puts his arm out along the back of the sofa, as if he doesn’t want me to ask him to leave either. I move closer and put my head down on his chest, curling my legs up onto the cushions and sinking into him like he’s the most familiar thing in the world. He lowers his outstretched arm down against my side and pulls me in tight.

  Then, Adam Sinclair kisses the top of my head and says, “Good night.”

  I WAKE on Thursday morning to my cell phone alarm vibrating in my pocket. Adam and I have shifted in our sleep; we’re both lying on the sofa, crammed together with his arm around my shoulder and my head still on his chest. His left foot is up on the arm of the couch, and his right is dangling off the edge. He’s too tall for the sofa, and yet he’s sound asleep. I do my best to get up without disturbing him. He doesn’t even move.

  I’m standing in my living room, looking at Adam sleeping so soundly on my sofa, and wondering, yet again, what my father would think about all this. I wonder what he would warn me about. I wonder what negatives he would see that I’m missing. My daddy was always good at tempering my bright side and giving me a dose of reality without crushing who I am. Not even a little bit. I’m not sure I would listen to him, though, even if he were here to give me advice. I think my heart’s already taken the lead on this one, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  Sorry, Daddy. Destiny, and Miriam Hansen, had it right this time.

  I head to the bathroom to shower and get ready for work, and even as I detonate one squeaky floorboard after another, Adam’s breathing stays steady.

  THE VERY-NICE-BOY-I-CAN’T-STOP-THINKING-ABOUT drove me to work this morning, dropping me off in Pine Manor’s parking lot before heading home for a shower of his own. He kissed me just before I got out of the car. A real kiss. Not a sweet kiss on the forehead. Not the kiss of a nice boy. A kiss that shimmied around inside my ribcage Anthony Kiedis-style. I will carry it around with me for the rest of the day. Hell, maybe even for the rest of my life.

  Adam comes back to Pine Manor, freshly showered and shaved but still sporting a tuft of intentional bed-head, at 10:30, just as I’m about to start moving everyone to the community room for bingo.

  Ms. Sinclair has been sitting at the front window, watching her birds, since Sondra moved her there just after breakfast. She’s chatty this morning, telling me about the tiny goldfinch perched on the feeder as I straighten her blanket. She says it’s a male. She can tell because the feathers are so bright. The female’s feathers are drab, she tells me. Brown and drab. It startles me when our eyes connect. I catch a glimpse of something again, something in her eyes I’d rather not see. I’m thankful when Adam interrupts us with a soft hello.

  “Good morning, Adam,” Ms. Sinclair says, clear as a bell. Adam looks at me and sighs a small,
happy sigh. “This young lady and I were just looking at the goldfinches. Do you see them out there? The ones with the yellow feathers?”

  “Yes, Gram, I do. They’re beautiful.”

  “You know, your father used to have a canary when he was a boy. He kept it in his bedroom. I wanted to get you one, too, but your mother said she didn’t want such nonsense in her house.”

  It’s the longest, most cohesive string of sentences Ms. Sinclair has said in days. Adam’s expression is a combination of utter surprise and absolute pleasure. I take a step back to give them both some space as he sits down in the chair facing her.

  “I would’ve loved to have a canary, Gram. Do you remember those fish I used to have?”

  “I do. They were the only pet your mother would let you to have. She wasn’t too keen on animals.”

  “No, she sure wasn’t.” Adam can’t take his eyes off of her. He’s clearly in a state of shock over his grandmother’s clarity. As am I.

  “How is your mother, darling? You know, I haven’t seen her in quite some time.”

  “My mother is fine. She and Dad still live in Seattle.”

  “Yes. Yes. Seattle. That’s right. Now, what about you, dear? How is high school?”

  “Gram, I’m not in high school anymore. I’m twenty-five now. I just finished graduate school not too long ago.” His face falls. He knows he’s losing her.

  “Well, then. You’d better get back to work. Both of you. Principal Sykes does not like our students to be tardy. You’ll get scolded if you’re late.” Her brow furrows and she waves her hands at us, as if to send us away. It breaks my heart.

  I step into the conversation in hopes of bringing her back to the present before she slips fully away. “Ms. Sinclair, why don’t you let Adam take you into the community room? They’re about to start a new game of bingo, and if I recall correctly, you mentioned earlier you’d like to play.”