by David Beers
And rang.
And then she heard his voice, though only a recording of it, asking her to please leave a message and he would return her phone call.
Diane placed the phone down and stared at it as if it were some giant ant, and not one of her most personal items. Was she angry at it because it hadn’t connected them?
She didn’t like him not answering. If she denied being worried before, she found it harder and harder to tell herself that now. Diane picked up the phone again, wondering if she should actually call Alicia. Worrying the family about something like this was serious, because everyone knew how bad things could get with John. If this episode was a false alarm, she’d just be getting everyone worked up over nothing.
Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling. She didn’t like the way his phone just kept ringing. She didn’t like the way he acted the other night, and perhaps worst, she didn’t like that the boys would be home in two days. Not with all this happening around her.
Her boys made the decision for her. She wouldn’t have them coming home to John in the throes of his addiction if she could help it.
She found Alicia’s number and waited as the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Alicia. It’s Diane. Have you heard from John?”
A pause came over the line and the feeling that seemed to run through the air—almost electrifying the hair on Diane’s arms—intensified. The feeling that said something was wrong.
“No, why? What’s going on?” Alicia spoke slowly, as if she wasn’t sure how much to say.
“Oh, God,” Diane said, tears springing to her eyes. “Do you think something’s wrong too?”
Another pause.
“It’s okay, Diane. Just tell me what’s going on?”
“He said he was going to a meeting ….” Diane sniffed, and wiped the corners of her eyes with her free hand. “But he’s not back yet. It’s been hours, Alicia.” She swallowed, doing her best to keep from sobbing into the phone.
“Has anything happened?”
“You tell me! You seem to already know something is wrong!”
“Hey, hey,” Alicia said. “It’s okay. He was just weird when I talked to him the other day, just a little weird is all. But, I mean, it’s Mom’s anniversary in a few days. That’s probably it.”
“God, I hope so, Alicia.”
“Look, let me give him a call and see if I can get ahold of him. I’ll call you back in a second, okay?”
Diane nodded though Alicia couldn’t see her. “Okay … Okay. Just make sure you call me back, please.”
“For sure, sweetie. Just give me a few minutes.”
Diane hung up the phone, feeling half pissed at getting so emotional, but unable to help it. She couldn’t go back to five years ago, and then every couple of years before that. John falling into some kind of darkness, something she didn’t understand no matter how bad she wanted to. Because when darkness fell on him, it fell on the rest of them as well.
“No,” she said. “I won’t let him.”
Alicia kept remembering the way John’s eyes looked.
As she picked up the phone and dialed his number, as it rang, and then as his voice came over the phone’s speaker, telling her to leave a message.
Five years ago, when they had stared at each other, his eyes said he did something very, very wrong. Everyone else thought it had to do with alcohol, but Alicia knew that wasn’t true. She never said anything about it to anyone, but she knew, because she’d seen his eyes.
Clear.
Focused.
They contained none of the glazed, almost lost look that drunk eyes possess.
What happened back then—do you want to go there, right now, Alicia? With Diane about to break down and him not answering his phone?
Why hadn’t she told anyone what she saw?
Because he’s my brother, she thought.
She got his call at three in the morning. Mark hadn’t woken, the phone’s vibrations not spreading to his side of the bed. Alicia woke though, looking at the name on the phone with a dawning fear growing across her entire body, affecting the very cells of her skin. Things had been so bad for so long … months? Had it gone on that long? And then he called her early in the morning, when he hadn’t called in what felt like forever.
“I need you to come get me,” he said, his voice not wavering. He didn’t sound drunk, more like the loneliest soul to ever walk Earth.
So she went, driving through the empty, dark roads—completely unsure what she would find when she arrived.
Only John.
Alone, walking down a highway.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she said as he closed the car door. She didn’t pull back onto the road, instead remained idling on the side with her headlights blazing into the black night.
“I need to go home,” he said.
“Home? Why aren’t you there now? Does Diane know where you are?”
He stared straight ahead, not moving at all, and said nothing.
“John, answer me! What are you doing out here? We’re an hour away from your house; it’ll be fucking light out before we get back!” She felt like crying, was barely holding it together, and he sat there like a stone statue.
Alicia leaned her head back against the seat and put both hands on the steering wheel. She didn’t put the car in gear, though. “Why won’t you let anyone in? Why won’t you … stop making everyone’s life hell? We all love you and that’s why we hurt so bad.”
He turned to her then, and she to him, and that’s when she saw those eyes. Clear and conscionable.
“Don’t ask me about tonight,” he said. “Ever. Tonight never happened. Tomorrow, everything will be fine. I promise.”
Alicia had looked at him another minute and he didn’t shy away. Finally, she nodded, turned back to the road and put the car in gear. They drove home in silence. Neither spoke about it again.
And he spoke the truth that night. It took time for Diane and John to get back to normal. The AA meetings started again. But, John turned it all around. Alicia never knew what happened out there before she picked him up; she never asked.
Is it happening again? she wondered.
“Hey, Dad,” John said, answering his phone.
“Hey. Your sister was just talking about you.”
“Oh yeah? What did she say?”
“She’s worried about you. Asked me the other night if you had called me.”
John didn’t say anything for a second. He knew his family was noticing. Diane, now Alicia. He always acted so fucking stupid when Harry showed up. He couldn’t hide it, no matter how hard he tried. They always saw through him just like they did right now.
“She worries too much,” John said.
“I agree. She’s like your mother. Are you coming to the grave with us?” his father said.
“Yeah, of course. Why would you ask that? Have I ever missed it?”
“No, you haven’t,” his father said. “I was just making sure.”
Another silence fell across the phone.
“You been thinking about Mom a lot?” John said.
“Of course. I always do when this day comes around. I miss her.”
Guilt splashed around in John’s stomach like spoiled milk, making him want to vomit. Of course his father was thinking about her. Alicia too. He was the only one not. Because he had other things on his mind besides his mother’s death.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” his dad said. “You don’t sound good, son.”
“I’m just busy at work. That’s why I haven’t called. The higher up you move on the corporate ladder, the more of your life they want.”
“And you’re giving it to them?”
“Didn’t you?” John said.
His father laughed. “I did, but not as much of it as you … have you called Alicia?”
John looked in his rear-view mirror, seeing his own eyes staring back at him. No, he hadn’t called her and no, he hadn’t answered her call a few minute
s ago either. Nor Diane’s, for that matter.
“No, haven’t done my due diligence with her, I suppose. I’ve got to get it together, don’t I?” he tried to put a smile in his voice, wanting to make light of the situation.
“I don’t know. You’re the only one who can decide if it’s falling apart, ya know? Anyways, kid, I’ve got a golf game with some buddies scheduled and I have to get ready. I’ll see you on Tuesday, right?”
“Yes, sir,” John said, his eyes closed tight and trying his best not to grit his teeth.
“Alright then, love you.”
“Love you too.”
He hung up the phone, but didn’t raise his head or open his eyes. Only he could know if it was falling apart? And what if it was, Dad? What then? What damn advice did he have? John opened his eyes and saw a fat, slightly blue looking man sitting in his back seat.
“Hey, man,” Harry said. “It’s not that serious. It’s just not.”
John shook his head, tears burning behind his closed eyelids.
He felt Harry’s hand touch his shoulder, a heavy, fleshy thing. “Look, I know what you’re feeling. Trust me. You don’t like doing this because you feel it’s … immoral. I don’t blame you for that, John. I don’t judge you for it, either. But we are who we are. We can’t change that. And it’s okay to be it. You take care of the ones you love and you’ve never let this really affect them. A few slip-ups don’t mean anything, John. You’ll get through this too, just like you always have. Don’t beat yourself up so much.”
The tears squeezed out of John’s eyes and his body started hitching as he cried. What could he do about this? He couldn’t remove the man in the back of his car. He had never been able to, not since he first showed up almost two decades ago. And the things he made John do? The things he made John want to do.
God, why won’t you deliver me?
Tears dropped onto John’s lap.
He felt Harry pat him on the shoulder. “Take your time, man.”
Harry leaned back in the seat and was silent as John cried into his own lap.
A golf game? That’s what Scott came up with? Jesus, how dumb was he?
Though, John hadn’t said anything about it …
Which was strange, to say the least. John knew his father hadn’t golfed in ten years, so what did it mean if John didn’t notice?
You’re starting to sound like Lori, ya know, old man? Maybe he was, but maybe Lori wasn’t always wrong. Just because someone worries about everything didn’t mean that some of those things weren’t correct.
Scott sat in his recliner. He didn’t want to look to his right, because the journal sat there, unopened. He didn’t want to see his wife’s handwriting or even consider opening it.
You’re getting crazy, you know that? Maybe you should start golfing again.
Maybe.
Maybe.
And yet, he felt what he imagined Alicia had felt. Something wasn’t exactly right with his son. Scott knew about the alcohol and everything it brought to his life years ago, but he was sober now. Had been for quite some time.
He sounded sober on the phone, too.
Not a word about the golf game, though. Just an I love you.
Don’t do anything stupid. You open that journal and you might not be able to pull back from it. A lot of what she wrote was at the end, and the end wasn’t good for anyone—especially not her. Worry when there’s something to worry about, not because your son’s a bit distracted.
9
A Portrait of a Young Man
“How’s John doing?” Dr. Vondi said.
Lori sat in the same place, on the couch, her arms folded in front of her.
“He’s okay,” she said.
“You’re quiet today.”
She was, she supposed. Perhaps she’d been quiet since she left this room the last time. She heard Vondi’s admonitions that “boys would be boys” and she shouldn’t worry because “one incident doesn’t make him a bad person”.
She heard Scott say the same things.
And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong—or rather, something was going wrong. Vondi and Scott couldn’t know, not like she did. They hadn’t seen the signs like Lori, hadn’t lived with them.
“I don’t think anyone’s taking my concerns seriously,” she said.
“Who is everyone? Me?”
“You, my husband.”
“What did you tell him?” Dr. Vondi said. “What you told me?”
“I didn’t mention Clara, but I told him something was wrong with John.”
“What did he say?”
“That I worry too much.”
Dr. Vondi smiled. “He might be right.”
“He might be wrong.”
Dr. Vondi shrugged. “Perhaps. Any more issues at school, though?”
“No. They suspended all of the boys, but I think they suspended the other three because they knew I’d raise holy hell if only John was sent home. Nothing else will be done from a disciplinary perspective to John, because no matter what they say, it was three on one.”
“That’s good then. I’ve been thinking about this for a little bit,” Dr. Vondi said. “Look, if something else happens, if he does that again, then yes—I think you should worry. One fight, though? If someone thought I was off my rocker for every fight I got in, I’d be in an asylum right now … I’d rather not dwell on that incident, though. I’d like to get back to your parents. What do you think?”
“That’s fine,” she said, nodding. She didn’t want to hear anything else about John or what happened either. She hadn’t stopped thinking about it for a week, and she was simply exhausted.
“Your father died when you were young? How old were you?”
“Fourteen,” she said.
“That’s a tough time to lose a parent, huh? Old enough to know what’s happening. Old enough to remember.”
She nodded and looked out what she was beginning to think of as her window.
“What happened?” Dr. Vondi said.
“He was murdered.” How many people had she told that to? A handful? Of course, the people in her home town knew, but when she left there, she kept it to herself. Scott knew, but she didn’t go into details, even with him.
“You don’t want to talk about it?” Dr. Vondi said.
She looked over to him, a soft smile appearing. “I never have.”
“I think it’s important we do. A lot of what’s going on right now is rooted in what happened with them, and if we can understand that, we might be able to help what’s happening today. So tell me whatever you think you can.”
Lori nodded and looked away again. She found it hard to stare at him when she brought up these memories, digging around in her mind and finding things she hadn’t truly thought about in over a decade.
“I found him,” she said. “I came home from school and he was sitting on the living room couch. The TV was on, just like it always was when I got home. He worked nights so when he came in he would go to sleep, wake up before school released, and we’d hang out before Clara got off.”
She paused as the pictures flashed through her head. Bloody things that brought more tears to her eyes. Because her father had been a human being, someone that she loved, and the last image she had of him was as some kind of bloody animal—a chopped up fish discarded on the dock.
“I couldn’t see his face at first, just the back of his head. I think I said something like ‘hey’, but he didn’t turn around. That’s when I first thought something wasn’t right. He always turned around and smiled at me. Every day. Not that one, though.
“I went around the couch, slowly, because with each step I got more scared; he should have heard me and turned around, but he didn’t. I finally saw why. His eyes were open, his mouth too. It hung open as if he was just about to scream, but never got the chance. A butchers knife was lodged in his throat, like someone came from behind him and simply gave one solid hack, not pulling it out after.”
/> The tears came then. She couldn’t stop them and didn’t try. Silent tears, that rolled down her face with no shame. Her voice didn’t hitch and breathing remained steady.
“Blood must have poured out his mouth, because it was dried down his chin and over the top of the knife. His shirt was soaked … I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to help him, to save him. I ran to him and started hugging him, begging him to say something, to just look at me for one single second. I think a neighbor showed up, but I don’t remember. I can’t imagine what I looked like. They called Clara at work.
That’s a true story,” she said, turning to look at him without bothering to wipe her eyes.
Dr. Vondi nodded. He didn’t open his mouth to say anything, though his eyes were wide. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine.”
“Want to know what else?” Lori said. “I’m positive Clara did it.”
10
Present Day
John sat on the front pew. He looked at the empty cross on the stage before him. The Son having risen and no longer needing to suffer.
He was alone in the church. Harry hadn’t followed him in and no other parishioners felt like speaking to the Lord in His house, John supposed. He was glad for it. He wanted to be alone right now because …
What he said at the twelve-step meeting was true.
He would deny it to Harry, to anyone in this world that asked, but he couldn’t deny it to himself. He wanted to do what Harry asked. Craved it, even. He cried in the car earlier today but those tears weren’t simply because of the position he found himself in, they were also because he wanted to be in this position. A part of him.
Harry was right.
He was a bastard, but he was right. John and Harry, they were the same. A large part of them at least, and Harry showed John that part. Harry was a mirror in which John saw the piece of him he hated, yet lusted for.
So now he sat in this church to try and find the other part of him. The part that wanted to live a righteous life. That wanted to do the Lord’s will and not some dead friend’s.