Sublime Karma

by Peyton Garver

  “They? Wait. Are we still talking about you and Mom?” Jake turned back to his dad, narrowing his eyes. “Or, are we talking about someone else now?”

  “That’s the thing. Jake, I’m sure Brie is a nice girl, but—”

  “But what? I can’t believe you. It’s not the same. Brie is not an addict.” But, he knew she was addicted to something, maybe not drugs or alcohol. “I don’t believe I can make a difference. I know I can.” Brie had restored trust he thought he’d never find again. She confided in him. She trusted him. She needed him, and, because of that, he needed her. “Do you remember when you asked me if Brie was special? Well she is. There’s no way I’m gonna turn my back on her.”

  “I never meant to imply that. I just want you to know . . . to be prepared. It can be an emotional roller coaster.”

  “I can deal,” Jake said.

  “I’ve no doubt.” His dad looked at his watch. “Text Teagan. Tell her we’re ready to go.”

  Pulling out his phone, Jake nodded.

  “What’s that?”

  “What’s wha—” Jake looked at the phone in his hand, the phone his dad was also looking at. “Uh—”

  “Where’s your phone?”

  “Dad, I . . . I loaned it to Brie. She said it helped to talk to me. We only texted a couple of times before the battery died. I picked up this prepaid to use, until she gets out. She should be getting out in a couple of days.”

  “Getting out of where?”

  Jake swallowed. “The hospital.”

  “The hospital? You didn’t tell me that’s where you went. If she’s getting treatment, you had no right to interrupt it by going there or giving her your phone. Jake, I thought I told you to make smart choices.”

  “Yeah, but that was after I already made that choice, and actually, I thought it was a pretty smart choice. When I went to see her, I didn’t know why she was there. So that choice was like, you know, an ignorance is bliss kinda thing.”

  “No, that was not a smart choice, and ignorance is no excuse. When was the last time you contacted her?”

  “Friday night after my game. Dad, the battery’s dead. I told you that.”

  Adam sighed. “All right. Go ahead and text Teagan.”

  “Uh, Dad, you should tell Teagan—about Mom. She deserves to know. I’ll be there if you want me to.”

  Adam nodded. “You’re right, I’ll tell her tonight. And, yes. I’d like for you to be there, with her.”

  Jake looked out the bus window. The driver no longer slowed when they approached Brie’s house. Ever since the phone died he’d been thinking of her. She had to be getting out soon. He leaned his head back and shut his eyes, thinking of Sunday’s sermon. Forgiveness.

  Sarah, he wanted to put her in her place once and for all, but maybe forgiveness was the only way he could put her in his past, be done with her. Bygones. Maybe this was the only way he could get through to her. If she would finally back off, I can move on without her interference. Jake nodded to himself. Yeah, I can do this.

  Stepping off the bus, Jake exhaled and watched his breath escape in thin, wispy, curls of white before vanishing into thin air. It was a cold, brisk morning, and he was sure Sarah was with Pam and Troy hanging out in Troy’s car, listening to music while they waited for the first bell. He headed toward Troy’s shiny, black Shelby parked in the senior lot. Here goes nothing, he thought, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. The passenger window lowered before he made it to the car. Behind Pam, Jake could see Sarah smiling at him.

  When he leaned down, Pam gave him a sheepish look from the front seat. He felt a twinge of guilt, yet justified for his anger toward her last week. He gave her a tight smile and then glanced past her at Troy, giving him a nod before leaning down farther to look behind Pam at Sarah.

  “Hi, Jake,” Sarah said brightly.

  “Hey. Can I talk to you? Alone?” He motioned with his head for her to leave with him.

  “Yeah, just a sec.” She pulled the strap of her backpack over her shoulder. “Oh, my gosh. Finally, I can’t believe it,” he heard her say to Pam. He straightened and drew in a deep breath, shoving his hands back into his jacket pockets.

  “Tell me everything, second period.” Pam whispered before she opened her door and moved her seat forward so that Sarah could slip out of the passenger door from the backseat.

  Jake led Sarah away from the parking lot, to a picnic table in the courtyard. It was so cold out, nearly everyone was inside. Here, there would be some privacy. He dropped his backpack onto the bench, and sat on the edge of the picnic table.

  Following his lead, she dropped her things on the bench and sat next to him on the table.

  He exhaled a deep breath and met her eyes. “Sarah, I just wanted to tell you, I’m not mad anymore about what happened over the summer. I’m over it.” It came out just as he had rehearsed it.

  “Jake, he didn’t mean anything to me. You did, you still do.” She reached out to touch him.

  He grabbed her hand before she could touch his face and shook his head. “Sarah, you don’t understand.” He lowered her hand onto her lap. “What I’m trying to say is I accept your apology. I shouldn’t have held a grudge for so long. I guess I just felt like . . .” How did I feel? “I felt the same way you would have felt, if you saw me kissing some other girl when you thought you were the only one.”

  “Jake, I told you I was sorry.”

  “I know. And, I forgive you, but I don’t want to get back with you.”

  “What? Jake, no! We were so good together. I need you.”

  We were good together? What does that even mean? He scoffed. “Sarah, you don’t need me.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No. You have no idea what it is to need someone.”

  She looked confused.

  Now what? “Do you get what I’m trying to say?” He stood up from the table.

  “No,” she whispered.

  He tried again. “I’m telling you, I accept your apology. I’m over it. Now you need to move on, and so do I.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and waited for it to sink in.

  She slid off the table and took a handful of his jacket. “Jake . . .” Her voice trembled.

  Oh, jeez. Here come the waterworks. He shook his head, whispering, “Sarah, don’t do this. Not here.” Now what? He fisted his hand and put his arm around the back of her neck as she buried her face in his shoulder.

  “Jake, just give me one more chance. You won’t regret it. Please. I’ll make it up to you,” she promised, gulping back a sob.

  “No, I can’t. I won’t.” He looked around. There weren’t too many people out, but it was still public. They were drawing attention from the few who were milling around in the parking lot. “You wanna go back and sit in Troy’s car?”

  “With you?”

  “No. With Pam and Troy. I’ll walk you there, if you want me to.”

  She nodded, letting out a few more spastic sobs.

  “Come on,” he said, almost callous. And, although he kept his hands in his jacket pockets, he permitted her to loop her arm through his as he escorted her back. Finally, this can be over!

  “Still friends?” she asked, mascara running down her tear-streaked face. She ducked into the seat behind Pam.

  “Yeah sure. Friends,” he mumbled, looking toward a disturbance coming from the other side of a new car, a few spaces away, a sleek white Audi coupe, he’d never seen before. Something didn’t seem right.

  Jake pushed the passenger door of Troy’s car shut and strained to see what was going on at the white car. Brie? “Wait! Brie!” Her engine started, and he dodged between the parked cars and into her lane. “Brie, stop!”

  Already out of her space, she accelerated, swerving around him.

 
“No,” he murmured, watching the car pull out of the lot.

  Chapter 21

  Rounding the corner, Jake saw Pam waiting at the entrance of his class. Not what I need right now.

  “Jake,” she said taking a step toward him.

  He slowed. “What.”

  She shrunk back. “Jake, I’m sorry about the other day, in the cafeteria. I didn’t know I mean . . . I’m just . . . sorry, okay?”

  He nodded, more of an acknowledgement than an acceptance. It didn’t escape his attention that although she apologized, she didn’t say why she was sorry. Should he apologize, too? After all, he had turned it into a major scene. He couldn’t, not now. He watched her hurry away and then took his seat in the back of the room. He glanced at Brie’s empty chair, and pulled out his prepaid phone. He checked the time, then texted: Brie why didn’t you stop? Where are you?

  He sent the text to his phone. She had to have charged it. Did she have it with her?

  He waited. Nothing. Brie please we really need to talk

  He sent another. It’s not what you think I swear it Brie trust me please

  In the hall, after class, Jake checked his phone, again. Nothing. He methodically followed his schedule, not remembering a single thing from any class. He sauntered into sixth period, Shakespeare. Collapsing into his seat in the back of the class, he looked at the empty seat in front of him, next to Marcus.

  “Hey, bro. You chill?” Marcus asked.

  “Yeah,” he answered. He’s definitely heard about the parking lot. Who hasn’t? He checked the time on his phone. Screw football practice, I’ll take the bus home and go find her. Clenching his jaw, he texted another message: ANSWER ME!

  Jake’s phone vibrated. “Finally,” he whispered. He checked the text. “No,” he rasped out.

  Marcus turned in question, but Jake shook his head at him.

  Jake texted: Do what? No answer. Brie? Do what? Still nothing. He sent another: Dammit Brie! Where are you? Don’t do anything stupid I’ll come to you please just tell me where you are

  He knew where he could find her. He just had to get out of here. He pulled his phone out again, this time sending his message to Troy: Hey can I borrow your ride? I gotta find her you know I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate

  The response came in seconds: Sure meet me in equipment room in 3 min go thru locker room no camera there

  Ok see you there in 3

  He tapped Marcus’ held-out fist with his, and then told Mr. Rosenberg he didn’t feel well. Well, I don’t. I didn’t lie. With a pass in hand for the nurse, he headed straight to the locker room that had access to the football equipment room.

  Jake pulled open the heavy door to the locker room and opened the door in the back that led into the athletic storage room. Troy was already there waiting, sitting on one of the rolled up wrestling mats along the wall.

  “Thanks bro, you know I wouldn’t—”

  “Hey, no problem. Will you be at practice? We got the championship game weekend after next.”

  “Doubt it. I’m sorry, man.”

  Troy hesitated. “Look, we won last week. We’re undefeated. In three weeks, we’ll be playing in the state championship—”

  “Troy, you don’t think I know that? I know I play like shit, when I can’t focus. As soon as I can take care of this thing with Brie, it’ll all be good again. I know it. You know it. Can you just cover for me with Coach?”

  Troy sighed. “Yeah, sure. I got you. Just don’t leave me stranded at practice with no car.” He dropped his keys into Jake’s hand.

  Jake fisted the keys. He knew that States were everything to Troy, but practice would be a wash for him if he couldn’t concentrate, and that couldn’t happen, until he found Brie.

  “Thanks man. I’ll have it back in your spot before practice is over.” They tapped fists, and Jake slipped out the back door of the equipment room.

  Before starting up the car, Jake sent another text: DAMMIT BRIE CALL ME NOW Would he be too late?

  Out of breath from running the path, Jake climbed the ladder to the deer blind afraid of what he would find. She was there, slumped against the wall on the floor next to the bench, hugging her knees, just like in her sketch. He paused, not wanting to startle her. But, she seemed to look right through him, her eyes bleak. That same empty look she had that first day he saw her on the bus. Next to her, on the bench, was his phone, a glass shard from a brown bottle, and a piece of paper that had once been crumpled. Her own phone was on the floor next to her.

  Jake swallowed the lump in his throat and sat next to her on the floor. “Brie, say something,” he whispered, sitting as close as he could, afraid to touch her.

  “I can’t go back there,” she managed. “I can’t. It’s like, like I’m a joke.”

  “No, you’re not a joke. Brie, what you saw in the parking lot, it’s not what you think.”

  “I don’t know what I think anymore.”

  “After Sarah sent that text that you saw, I was pissed. I wanted to put her in her place. But, I realized the only way to get her to back off was to put the past behind us, so that’s what I was doing.”

  Brie looked confused.

  “Look Brie, I went out with her for two years. It didn’t work out. I wasn’t enough for her. But, when I found out and broke up with her, she begged me to take her back. For five months, I’ve been avoiding her—giving her the cold shoulder. She wouldn’t back off. I took her out of my contacts. But, she still texted off and on. I’d just delete the texts. I should have blocked her. I don’t know why I didn’t.” He paused. “So, when she sent that text, the one you saw? I knew I had to tell her that . . .” He sighed. “I told her I forgave her, but I wouldn’t get back with her. I told her I wanted to move on. That’s what you saw. Me, moving on—from her.”

  He reached for her right hand, the hand that she had balled into a fist. When he had first gotten there, at the deer blind, he noticed traces of dried blood on her clothes and the crumpled paper, but hadn’t said anything about it. He pried open her fingers, looking for the cut. What he saw were small lacerations on the inside of her fingers and palm of her right hand, not the precise cuts he expected to find, cuts like the ones that had left those scars on her left hand and arm.

  She pulled her hands back. “I didn’t cut,” she whispered, fisting her hands. “I thought about it. I wanted to. But, I didn’t.”

  This time, he waited for her.

  “I didn’t,” she repeated, and then looked at the brown glass shard on the bench next to her. “I just held it too tight.” She opened her right hand, exposing the punctures on her fingers where she’d grasped the shard. She looked at the floor of the deer blind.

  He followed her eyes and saw that she had used the glass to carve the single word: WHY

  He had no answer. “Is that paper for me?”

  She looked at the paper next to her on the bench, and then back at him. “I found it under the bench. I thought you wrote it.”

  He reached across her for the paper.

  Crimson Color

  You are falling under

  You replace the hurt with pain

  No, you’re not insane

  You replace the hurt with pain

  To rein in your thoughts again

  And when you’re all alone

  It seems there’s no escape

  unless you can find another way

  You can lean on me

  You are not alone

  I’ll be there for you

  I’ll help pull you through

  There is another way

  Open up your eyes and see

  I'll take you there with me

  He nodded. “I did. I forgot about this. When the phone died, and I couldn’t get hold of you anymore
. I don’t know, you were all I could think of.” He held out the paper. “I am here for you. Trust me on that, okay?”

  He shifted. “Com’ere,” he put his arm around her. “I left Rosenberg’s class to come find you. I was thinking you should be sitting there, right in front of me—right next to Marcus.” He chuckled. “‘When you depart from me sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.’”

  Relaxing against him, she stroked his arm, and after a pause, whispered, “Shakespeare’s, Much Ado About Nothing.” She looked up at him. “Wasn’t that Leonato’s line, Signor Benadick?”

  “Yeah.” He laughed. “But, I thought the message fit”

  She smiled back. “How about this one? ‘Wherefore, thou may’st have a seat in front of that handsome young maneth o’r thith’r.’”

  “You remember that?” He grimaced. “I could not believe Rosenberg said that.”

  “How could I forget, after having to actually ask you for that seat on the bus?”

  “Yeah, about that—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad everyone else was afraid to sit there, otherwise I would’ve been sitting on the floor. Do you really think anyone would have fit me into a filled seat?” She giggled. “Maybe Becca would have.”

  “Becca?” He sneered. “You know, after that first day, I actually looked forward to riding the bus, thinking you were gonna be sitting next to me.”

  Her eyes brightened. “I kinda got you back in class when we read that script. ‘I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor—’”

  “Yeah, that was a good one,” he laughed. “What’d Rosenberg say? ‘No, no, no Miss Lindstrom. It’s not Been-a-dick, his name is Benadick. Emphasis on Ben, not dick.’ I can’t believe you pulled that off looking so innocent. If he hadn’t corrected you like that, I doubt anyone else would have picked up on it. Well, maybe Marcus would’ve. Marcus thinks you’re all that and then some.”