The Knowers (The Exiled Trilogy)

by Merry Brown

  “What’s it like dating Katie?” Michael asked.

  He smiled, big. “You know Katie. She’s crazy and fun. She’s easy going, or at least wants you to think she is. I’m starting to find, though, she’s got a tough shell that’s hard to get behind. She wants to do what I want to do. That’s fine and all, but I want to be with someone who speaks her mind too. I don’t want to walk all over what she wants, and I’m beginning to get the feeling that she’s afraid to tell me what she really thinks, what she really wants.”

  “Man, do we sound like idiots or what?” Michael said to me.

  “No. I envy you, both.”

  John looked at me, “What’s up with you today? It’s like you’ve got your own personal storm cloud following you around.” He’s never been one for tact.

  “John’s right. What’s up? You seem down, even for you,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

  I hadn’t planned on spilling my guts about Lizzy. First of all, the pain was fresh, and how would I even be able to convey what she’s really like, how I feel about her, her feelings for me and all the bizarre stuff in between?

  I looked up at my friends. They looked like they really wanted to know what was bothering me.

  “I don’t know where to begin, what to say.” I knew I’d get it all wrong, but I decided to try anyway.

  “You guys know Lizzy.” Simultaneous their eyes widened in proportion to the grins on their faces.

  “Yeah, what about Lizzy?” Michael asked with a smile in his voice. I wondered if we were about to be transported to second grade with a chorus of you like Lizz-y, you like Lizz-y.

  I continued, despite their knowing smiles.

  “We’d been seeing each other.” John was shocked, but Michael looked unsurprised.

  “Yeah, Hannah told me about you two,” Michael said.

  “She did? How did she know?” Now I was the shocked one.

  “A few weeks back some of her friends were talking about you, trying to figure out who to set you up with for Prom or something. Hannah asked Lizzy what she thought and could tell that Lizzy wanted to be the one. Hannah got her alone and asked her about you. She said you two were together. Hannah could tell Lizzy was really into you because . . . oh, forget it man.”

  “What?” I all but demanded.

  “Well, I know this sounds stupid, but this is what Hannah told me. She said that when Lizzy talked about you she started to . . . to . . . glow. Hannah said she had that glow pregnant women get.”

  “What?” I said again, my mind spinning. They were both looking at me, huge grins.

  “It’s not like that at all. I haven’t even kissed her. And we’re not together, not anymore . . . .” Their smiles were gone with the obvious sting in my voice.

  “What happened?” John asked.

  “You know the night of Sue’s back-to-school party? I bumped into Lizzy on accident. When I reached down to help her up, something happened to me. Her touch was like the sun melting snow. I know that sounds crazy and sickly sweet, but it’s the best way to describe it.

  “You know she goes to Panama West with me? We ended up having three classes together. When she started hanging out with our group of friends last spring, I thought she was cool, but I never thought of her as dating material. But then I began watching her, seeing her in action: her otherworldly compassion, her love and care for all those she meets, her utter selflessness, I was drawn in. I told you about that senior camping trip, right?”

  “Yeah. Sounds like you lucked out with all the cool stuff at PWHS. How did the district pull that off – free camping for the entire senior class? I thought the district was basically bankrupt,” John said.

  I rolled my eyes. “My father paid for it, but that’s another story.” The thought of him interfering like that; I just had to remember it brought Lizzy and me together, for a time at least.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “Lizzy happened upon me when I was out in the woods playing my guitar. We started talking, and I found out she loves music just as much – if not more! Did you guys know she sings and plays the guitar?” They both shook their heads. “Her voice is high and sweet. Very intoxicating.”

  “Later that night we were paired together with a ‘look-at-the-stars/get-in-touch-with-nature’ exercise. As we talked about what we saw in the stars, the energy flowing between us was unreal. I mean it – unreal. Ever since then we’ve spent most of our time together, hanging out, playing, whatever. Until recently.”

  Was I ready to talk about this? The pain in my chest was growing. I felt like I was being slowly crushed to death from the weight of it all.

  Michael was into my story. “What happened?”

  “That’s just it! I have no idea. One day I’m in heaven with the most amazing girl on the planet and then next she’s breaking up with me.”

  “She didn’t give you any explanation? I don’t want to sound harsh, but, did she feel the same way about you?” Michael asked.

  “When she said we couldn’t be together anymore I told her I loved her and pushed her into admitting she felt the same. It was obvious. Change that - is obvious. She loves me and wants to be with me.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” John asked, puzzled.

  “Like I said, I don’t know. The main reason she gave me was she is ‘a being for others.’ I don’t know what the hell that means, but to her she thinks she’s spending too much time with me and neglecting her other relationships. But that’s not quite it. It’s hard to explain because you’ve probably never watched her at work. I’ve seen the magic she works on people. It’s like she draws out the ugliness in a person and magnifies the good – without the person being aware that she’s doing anything.”

  “That sounds crazy, man,” John said.

  “I know. I can’t put it into words, but she thinks she’s letting her family and friends down by being wrapped up in a relationship with me.”

  “That could be. Maybe you should suggest doing things with her family and friends,” Michael offered.

  That’s a good idea. I’d give it some thought. But I knew there was more behind her breaking it off with me. Michael saw my dissatisfaction.

  “Anything else?” Michael asked.

  “Well, she did say she couldn’t be with me because it’s too dangerous. . . .”

  Pity filled their faces.

  “She knew who you were from the beginning. Why did she all of a sudden decide you were dangerous?” John asked, pissed.

  “It’s one thing to know who my dad is and another to enter my world. All this started, come to think of it, when I had her over at my house and he came home early. They didn’t meet, but she did see him.”

  They both understood. They’d met him. My father gave off a really creepy vibe that chilled most to the bone.

  “I can’t begrudge her that. She should be afraid to be with me. If I really do love her, I should want her to stay away from me. And of course I assumed, when she said it was too dangerous, she was talking about him. But then I saw her bruises.”

  “Bruises?” Michael repeated.

  “Yeah, all over her arms. It’s a long story, but the night she broke up with me I saw them. They didn’t look fresh, but nasty nonetheless, basically covering her arms.”

  “Wow,” John said.

  “I was beyond angry. Just thinking about it now makes me want to punch something, or someone. She shrugged it off, but wasn’t back to school for a few days. I was crazy with worry for her. When she did come back to school and I confronted her, the bruises were completely gone, not a single one.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “That’s not the only weird stuff. You know I told you she saw my father, at my house? She only saw him from behind and when she did she doubled over immediately as if she was in pain. And she . . . she . . . .”

  “She what.”

  “She blurred.”

  “Blurred? What does that mean?”

  “I know it sounds insane, but I swear I saw h
er go fuzzy, or something, for a split second. I don’t know, maybe I’m finally going psychotic from being around him.”

  Talking about all this, and her, made me feel better, but only by an inch. I hung my head now, grateful for my friends, but still feeling broken.

  “Any more weird stuff?”

  I hesitated. Should I tell them about the hold-up? It might help to explain what I couldn’t seem to put into words.

  “Did you hear about the hold-up at the gas station down the street from where you live, Michael, a few weeks back?”

  He nodded.

  “Lizzy and I were there.”

  “Really? Why didn’t you say anything about it? What happened?”

  “These two crazy guys came in with guns while I was standing in line, one short and skinny and one huge. The short one rushed the clerk and put a gun to his head. He looked really wild, like he was high and out of his mind. He was about to pull the trigger and blow the clerk’s head off. Something happened and he was distracted. I knocked him to the ground and his gun flew up in the air. By the time the skinny one was on the ground, the clerk had a shot gun to his head.”

  “What a story. That’s incredible,” John said.

  “Amazing,” was all Michael said, his mouth hanging open.

  “You want amazing, wait till you hear what Lizzy did. The big guy, who must have weighed at least 300 pounds, was in the back of the store. While I helped take out the skinny guy she managed to get the gun away from that huge guy and reduced him to tears! What do you make of that?”

  What could they say? They knew Lizzy, sweet, unassuming, certainly non-violent Lizzy. It didn’t fit.

  “Remember Lizzy and I showed up to game night late that Friday night? We stopped by the coffee shop afterwards to compose ourselves, or I should say so I could compose myself. She looked just fine, as if what happened wasn’t out of the ordinary! You know what she told me? She said she knew how to handle herself, she knew about guns.”

  More silence with expressions of a mixture of incredulity and smiles.

  Michael finally asked, “Anything else?”

  “Yes, and no.” I wanted to tell them how weird she was in that she seemed to function like a working person, intact, unlike the rest of the human race that had baggage galore to work through. I wanted to tell of her unusual presence and utter goodness. But that was it for tonight. “I think I’m done talking about her right now.”

  “Okay. But, what are you going to do about it? You actually love her?” Michael asked.

  “I do. I didn’t think I would ever be able to love so much, to want to be with someone so much. You know me; I’ve tried to close off that side of myself. But she’s a part of me now and always will be.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?” John asked.

  “What would you do if you were in my shoes Michael? What if Hannah told you tomorrow that even though she’s madly in love with you, you two couldn’t be together as anything but friends?”

  He shivered. “I don’t know. I guess I’d try to be patient and wait it out. As I said, the female mind is all but impossible to understand. Maybe she’s just feeling unsure about things, about being in such a serious relationship. I think I would try to be patient, be her friend, and hope she’d come around.”

  “What about you John, what would you do?”

  “What he said.”

  I tried to smile. Michael was right. I mean, what other real options did I have? Forget her and move on? I don’t think so. I’d try to respect her wishes, hoping this was just cold feet on her part, though I knew very well that was not the issue. I knew I had no clue what was really going on with her. I would wait, watch, and bide my time.

  Chapter Thirteen: Dealing with a Broken Heart

  How do you deal with a broken heart? Easy. You give it time to heal. How do you deal with a broken heart that’s been broken, healed by the warmth of the sun, only to have the sun leave you alone to the bleak night? What happens to a heart like this, like mine? A once-patched-up heart that’s now shattered?

  And so life goes on.

  Michael had given me the trite, but nonetheless true, advice about waiting this thing out. So I waited.

  I filled my time spending more of it than necessary on my schoolwork. I also worked more hours – which was easy to do with the holidays right around the corner—and played my guitar. But mostly I thought. A lot.

  I decided I was essentially conflicted. I wanted to be with her because I loved her, but if I really loved her I’d want what’s best for her - which wasn’t me. It’s not that I’m a bad catch. I do have tons of baggage, but in spite of that I have a lot going for me. As far as I can see, the biggest strike against me is him. And that’s enough.

  Ever since the wreck, bad things have happened to those who are around us. The family pets were the first to go, then my dad’s longtime lawyer and best friend, followed by his wife and then . . . my brother. There was Mr. Biggs, my favorite math teacher in middle school, various house staff and business associates. All were dead . . . or missing and presumed dead.

  I use to think it was me, I was cursed. But as I saw all the tragedy unfold around me, he was always in the background. It’s him, not me.

  I knew he was responsible for those deaths, but I still couldn’t believe, even given all the wickedness oozing from his skin, that he really killed Matthew, his own son? Maybe not Matt, but I was sure he was responsible or at least had a hand in the other deaths.

  This is exactly why I swore I’d never get involved with a girl until I was far away from home. How could I? What were her chances of surviving him if his own son couldn’t make it?

  I should be glad Lizzy did what I couldn’t. She shouldn’t be with me, shouldn’t be around him.

  Maybe I could hide her from my father? Not likely. Half the time I was being followed.

  “Too dangerous.” Her words. I immediately thought she was taking about him, but what if she wasn’t? She obviously had been around rough people.

  The curiosity about the bruises, her confidence with a gun, the secrecy surrounding her family was maddening. I’d watch her at lunch or in class, trying to put all the pieces of the Lizzy-puzzle together, but couldn’t. Were her parents fugitives from the law? In the witness protection program? Spies?

  At school I tried to leave her alone. Give her time, follow my plan. It was hard because she was always on my mind. It was even harder to see her ignore me. It’s not that she pretended I wasn’t there. No. We still sat next to each other in class and at the lunch table. She’d include me in conversations now and then.

  I was physically with her, but she had erected a wall between us as thick as steel. She never let her guard down around me. She didn’t look me in the eye. She didn’t smile knowingly at me. And above all she made certain we never touched.

  I thought for sure she’d have to address me when our P.E. teacher put us on the same basketball team. But before we started playing, Ms. Codwell called Lizzy over to keep score. It seemed planned. Too convenient.

  As the weeks passed, I began to worry she was getting over me, which was what I wanted – for her safety - and what I thought might kill me. My love for her only grew as I was in the presence of her goodness, her radiance, even if it wasn’t directed at me.

  I took great pleasure in seeing how she helped all those around her, unbeknownst to them.

  Maybe she’s an alien, I laughed to myself as I watched her chat with Suzanne at lunch, a new friend of hers. I yanked upright in my seat, dropping my empty soda. Lizzy and Suzanne looked at me as the can crashed to the linoleum floor, my face pale like I’d seen a ghost.

  “Are you okay Will?” Lizzy asked with too much interest, betraying in that moment the care she tried to conceal. She knew it and blushed.

  I just stared at her and she stared back. Suzanne began fidgeting in her seat. Lizzy finally looked down, and I was able to put a somewhat composed look on my face.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just st
artled,” I said. She looked back at me and saw the light bulb hovering above my head.

  The bell rang and we were off to Computer Lab.

  I’d been concentrating on her dangerous comments so much I’d neglected the real clues she’d left for me. She told me she was a being for others. If she’s not an alien, she’s gotta be something . . . other. Supernatural? I wasn’t sure about that. Human? She seemed more than human - a whole human whereas most humans are lacking, hurting, less than they could be, mistake-ridden. She wasn’t. She was, almost, perfect?

  She was something. What, I had no idea.

  I continued to watch and wait. My life was still in shreds, but at least I got to see her, feel her presence. Except for the weekends.

  Saturdays and Sundays were pure torture. I couldn’t handle being at the house anymore, so I worked or volunteered as much as they’d let me. When the music store closed I’d get something to eat and hang out at the coffee shop until late, until I could reasonably go to bed.

  I tried my best not to think about her. I only allowed myself that pleasure while at school. Michael and John asked about her but I put them off, not wanting to talk about my misery, not wanting her to fill my head.

  Waiting, watching, thinking. Waiting, watching, thinking. Trying to function. Trying to make it through . . . today.

  Another Saturday night alone. I was zoned out at the coffee shop when John called.

  “Hey Will, I just got off work and Michael told me Hannah’s having a slumber party at her house. Wanna crash it? Where are you?”

  “I’m at the Daily Grind.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be there in ten.”

  I wasn’t in the mood John was, but I was certainly ready to take my mind off my own wretched condition.

  He was there in 5 minutes, and we sped off to get Michael.

  John decided the best approach was to scare the living daylights out of the girls, if possible. We went around to the windows, throwing pebbles and scratching our fingernails down the panes.