“You, um, wanna go for a walk? Maybe we’ll be able to build up our courage to go in together.” Luke smiles and for the first time looks genuinely friendly.
“Sure.” I don’t have anything else to do, and now that I know people had noticed me I want to get away from my little spot. “I don’t know what good it’ll do, though. Like you said, it’s not like they can tell me anything.”
“Your guy, how old is he?”
“Seventeen, he was seventeen,” I emphasize the “was” for Luke’s benefit. I hate when people talk about William like he’s here, just on vacation. If someone’s gone, they’re gone, and no matter what you do to try and bring them back they’re going to stay that way. I can slip up, the people who cared about him can slip up, but the people who only knew him as dead can’t talk about him like he’s alive.
“Yeah, sorry.”
Luke doesn’t understand. No one who hasn’t been through it can. Even if you have, it’s difficult to relate to people, since everyone experiences things so differently. The only thing the same is that it hurts. It might hurt in different ways and for different reasons, but it still hurts. The one thing you can’t avoid is the pain.
“Why?” My question is sharp and demanding. The less Luke seems to understand the more frustrated I get.
“Well,” Luke says, apparently not too offended by my tone, “I know the guy who leads group for that age. He won’t be able to tell you much, but he’d probably be able to tell you what your guy was like out here. Stuff like that if you’d be interested.”
“Um, yeah.” I feel bad about getting frustrated, so I revert back to talking quietly and staring at my feet. Maybe Luke does understand a little better than I’d given him credit for. “But let’s keep walking.” I wasn’t ready to go in yet.
“Yeah. It takes a lot to go into “That Place’.” Luke smiles.
I smile back. It’s been awhile since I smiled at another person. I forgot how good it felt. Being able to talk to another person and have them answer, being able to smile and have a person smile back. They were all things I’d taken for granted.
“Follow me. There’s a path that leads around the lake. It’s cold as anything in the winter, but that just means it’s empty.”
“Okay.”
“You sure you can handle the cold? You don’t look like you’re from around here.”
“I’m pretty sure I can handle it if you can.” Now it’s my turn to smile slyly and Luke laughs. “Alright. Let’s go.”
“So…” We’ve been walking in silence for several minutes and I’ve finally gotten up the courage to ask the question that’s been buzzing around in my mind. “How come you didn’t end up in a place like “That Place”? I mean, how did you escape the inevitable father-son cycle?” I’m worried Luke will be insulted, or think I’m strange for asking such a personal question, but I need to know. If he and William are as much alike as they seem, why is one of them dead and the other alive? Why did William end up in “That Place” and Luke just visit?
“That a serious question?” Luke looks like he wants to sit down somewhere, but it’s too cold to stop moving. We’ve made it to the lake and now we’re following the path around it. There is probably a sidewalk somewhere, but it’s buried and compacted under snow and ice now. The lake is sparkling and frozen over, with “no skating” signs planted into the ground every few feet. I imagine “no swimming” signs take their place in the summer. The winter scene is beautiful, the lake and snow and trees outlining everything. It is a lot colder than I expected. I haven’t spent much time outside since I made it to Minnesota. Going from a heated car to a heated house isn’t bad. Even my vigils outside “That Place” didn’t seem so cold. That could have been because I was lost in thought or because I was near a busy road. Either way, it was nothing compared to this cold. Joking aside, Luke is right. I’m not prepared because I am an outsider. I don’t even own the kinds of winter clothes necessary to survive here, let alone think they would be necessary.
“Yeah, it’s a serious question.” I start speed-walking to stay warm and Luke matches my pace without saying anything, but I can feel him laughing at me on the inside. I don’t mind. I’m laughing at myself a little too.
“I think a lot of it comes down to luck. I found the right people to hang out with before the wrong ones. I saw what drinking was doing to my dad and my family. I saw how much he hurt us, and I saw how he was so oblivious to everything else he couldn’t care. The longer it went on the fewer good days there were, and now he’s dying in “That Place” and I’m not sure he even cares.” This time when Luke says “That Place” he’s not making fun of me. He says it with such venom and anger I can’t tell if he hates “That Place” or his father more. “I just couldn’t let that happen to me. It was tempting. You hear these stories about how good the drugs make you feel. It’d been so long since I’d been happy. I wanted that kind of relief. I wanted to forget about my life for a few minutes. But saying no (‘no’)made me feel proud. Pride was an almost better feeling than happiness. So I kept saying no.”
“But were you ever happy?”
Luke laughs again.
“Are you happy?”
It’s a question that doesn’t need an answer. What he said scares me. I wondered a lot about whether William was really happy with me. We were similar in so many ways but opposite in so many others. He was always around people, even if they weren’t always the right kind of people. I preferred to be alone, or just with him. He wanted to go to parties but I wanted to stay home. Maybe if I had gone with him I could have kept him from doing the things we all eventually came to regret. Maybe if I’d been more outgoing, if I’d spent more time with him, he wouldn’t have felt so alone. If he wasn’t alone maybe he wouldn’t have relapsed. But maybe he was happy. Maybe I made him happy enough that he didn’t need the drugs and he died some way that couldn’t be prevented. Maybe I do need to know. I start crying silently, except it’s not really crying. The tears are just falling from my eyes and I can’t stop them.
“Oh, shit.” Luke says it like he broke me. He must not be used to spending time around girls. At least not emotional ones. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sure William was a good guy too. It’s hard to say no. If I’d gotten the wrong friends it probably would have been a lot harder.”
“It’s not that. He was clean, had been for months down here. He wanted to have a good life. But just a few weeks at home,” I look down at my feet again, “with me…” I whisper the words as softly as I can. I almost don’t want Luke to hear, but I know even if he can’t hear the words, he knows what I mean. “Just a few weeks with me and he dies. I wasn’t enough for him.” I bow my head as low as my neck will allow it to go. “I hate thinking it might have been me, that I might not have been enough.”
It’s the first time I’ve actually acknowledged that fear to another person. I wouldn’t say it to my parents because I know how they’d respond. I wouldn’t say it to my counselor because I wanted everyone to think I have it together. I wouldn’t say it to my friends because I don’t really have any I can trust. Saying it to Luke seems okay. He seems like the one person who might understand, and at least he can talk back (and of course, there is the added bonus of knowing if he turns out to be an ass I’ll never have to see him again).
Luke puts his arm around me and gives me an awkward hug. It’s not the most comforting hug I’ve ever gotten, and I think it actually makes both of us a little uncomfortable, but at least it’s a response. William had always been someone I could talk to, but trying to confide in someone who has died doesn’t help when you need a response. William couldn’t be my shoulder anymore. It breaks my heart a little to finally realize that.
“Look, Christine.” He pauses on my name like he isn’t quite sure he remembered it. I nod slightly and he goes on. “That’s something all of us ask ourselves. All of us people who’ve found ourselves caring about an addict. I think my mom still asks herself that sometimes. I know there w
as a time when I was little where I asked myself that every night before I went to sleep.” Luke pauses and looks out over the lake, not really focused on anything. He also stops walking, but I try to ignore the cold. It doesn’t seem like the right time to interrupt. “It’s never your fault, though. That’s what they tell you in group, or as I like to call it: living with yourself while you’re living with an addict.” He doesn’t sound like he’s talking to me anymore, but he does start walking again and I’m just grateful to be moving. “It’s never up to you to change how someone else lives. You can help them, you can support them, but in the end they’re the ones who decide what does or doesn’t go in their bodies. Sometimes addicts can be selfish. They use other people as an excuse for why they do what they do. But in the end the only person who can stop what they do is them. You have to understand that or you start to get sucked down. The whole thing is so hard, so difficult, and it’s so easy to think no one will escape. You can’t help someone, so you feel guilty. You want to escape, nothing gets better, you find a way out. Then someone else can’t help you. See? Don’t get pulled in.” He says it bitterly.
We’ve both already been sucked in. There’s no way around it. We know we’ve already been sucked in. There’s no hope we can be saved from that now. All we can hope is that we don’t get pulled down any further.
“I’m cold, Luke.” I shrug, he laughs, and things start to feel a little bit better.
We start to walk back towards “That Place” and I’m not sure if it was talking to Luke or finally realizing how cold it was outside, but I think I might be ready to go in. The sun is about ready to set, so it has to be late, well, late-ish around six. Whoever Luke thought I could talk to probably won’t be there. I’ll feel like an idiot if I finally go in just to get sent back out. I’m not sure if I’d even go back if that happened. I don’t want to take the risk of missing this chance. I feel like I’m getting close to all those answers I need(comma) and with just one day left before I go home(comma) I don’t want them to slip through my fingers.
“Hey, um, it’s getting late.” Luke looks at “That Place”, then at me, then at his feet. “Maybe we could meet back here tomorrow and I’ll introduce you to Zac?”
“Yeah, sure.” I try not to look too relieved. I’m glad Luke will be here tomorrow. I know this whole trip is supposed to be about me finding my voice and being independent, but sometimes it really helps to have someone to walk in with.
“Great.” Luke seems relieved, too. I’m starting to think he might not want to see his dad. It is almost Christmas. That has to be a hard time to be with the person who tore your family apart. Not that I know what’s really going on with Luke’s dad. I can only assume. “Umm, would you want to come with me to get some food? I know a good Chinese place. My mom will be eating dinner with him -- uh, Dad -- so I’d be alone. It’d be nice to have company for once. I think the people who work there are starting to think I’m some kind of Unabomber freak.”
“Are you?” I try to keep a straight face.
“What?”
“Are you a Unabomber freak? We did just meet.”
“Not yet.” Luke rolls his eyes. “but sometimes I wonder. There are some people out there who deserve to be blown up.”
“Yeah, like Unabombers . Although I think they’re just called terrorists now.”
“You know what? I rescind the offer. I don’t want you to come to dinner. Call me a terrorist…” he mutters under his breath, but I follow him to his car anyway and he doesn’t try to stop me.
“So, how are the fortunes at your Chinese restaurant?”
“The cookies? Just like everywhere else. I mean, you can’t ever have a bad fortune cookie. Or a good one. They’re just kinda there.”
“No.” I shake my head and smile. “How are the fortunes. The cookies are only there as carriers. You don’t even have to eat them.” I stick my tongue out without realizing it. I always do that when I talk about food I don’t like. even though I’ve been told it’s impolite on several occasions. William always said it was my inner four-year-old coming out. I figured it wasn’t a problem as long as it didn’t happen when food was actually handed to me.
“Okay, please, explain to me the mysticism of the fortune cookie.”
He isn’t taking it seriously, but he seems to be having fun. He looks more alive now that we’re driving away from “That Place.” I feel a little more alive too, but that could have been the “mysticism of the fortune cookie”. No one takes it seriously the first few times, but William got it. We discovered it together.
“Well, it’s a little hard to explain, at least, it’s hard to explain without sounding crazy. So you have to promise you’ll at least try to take it seriously.”
“I can’t promise that.” Luke never took his eyes off the road, but he was smirking.
“Then I won’t tell you.” I turn and look out the window, pretending to pout.
“Aw, come on. Just because I’m not sure I can take it seriously doesn’t mean I’m not interested.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What if I pay for dinner?”
“Warmer.”
“Fine. I’ll at least pretend to take it seriously.”
“Deal.” I stop pretending to pout and turn back around.
“Aren’t you gonna tell me?”
“Okay, so, you know how sometimes you get fortune cookies that are totally random and make no sense? Like the ones that say ‘you’re happy now purple’ or ‘your favorite color could be orange’?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“But sometimes, you go to a place with the perfect fortunes that make you go ‘I wish that would happen’?”
“Well, yeah, just like when my magic eight-ball says ‘yes’ to ‘will I wake up a millionaire?’. So?”
“Well, this is where it sounds crazy. Sometimes the cookie really does know. Not all the time; when you don’t need the fortune cookie magic, it’s not there. But when you really, really need help, when you desperately need a little hope… That’s when the magic of the fortune cookie hits you. It tells you what you need to keep going and then the fortune comes true. But only if you believe in it. If you take it for granted, it won’t help you.” Unless you’re me, and then the magic will abandon you in your time of need.
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Luke laughs, and hits the steering wheel as he turns into a strip mall and finds a place to park.
“Hey! You said you’d pretend to take it seriously. I feel betrayed.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you a fortune-telling fortune cookie.”
“You just don’t believe. But you will. Eventually everyone does.”
“Really? You think everyone believes this crap?”
“Everyone has to believe in something. What’s wrong with believing in fortune cookies? It can’t hurt.” I shrug.
“I still think it’s pretty ridiculous.”
“Just wait. Some day you’ll get a really good fortune. Then you’ll believe.”
“Let’s find out.” Luke opens the door to a tiny Chinese restaurant and we go in. It’s sandwiched between a Laundromat and a computer repair shop. No wonder it’s a place only the locals know about. At least I’m assuming Luke is a local. He certainly gives that impression, but it’s hard to tell with people who are involved with “That Place”. I decide it’s not really that important.
I notice the name of the place in the window: “Sunrise Chinese”. I’m a little astounded. I didn’t even think about the chance that there were two Chinese restaurants in the same few mile radius with the same name. This place seems much more William’s style. My William’s style. I still don’t know about Minnesota William, but I think it’s a safe bet this was the place he was talking about.
“How’d you find out about this place?”
“Oh, you know. I was just wandering around town one day trying not to think about my dad, realized I was hungry, and ended up here. It’s one of those places
only the locals really know about.”
“So you’re a local?”
“Might as well be.”
“Isn’t there another place around here with the same name?” It’s a leading question, but I am curious.
“Yeah. Terrible food. I think they’ve tried to use this place’s reputation to lure in customers who don’t know better. But this place has all the business they need and they still manage not to be too busy. Why? Have you been to the other one?” Luke’s starting to grin now. I hate him thinking I’m just a lost soul (even if I am).
“Nope. Just drove past. You know, when I was driving around.”
“Yeah, sure.” Luke’s still got that grin on his face.
“They’ll have good fortunes.” I elbow Luke in the ribs as we walk up to the counter to order. “I’ll have a C-18 extra spicy, with a coke.” I always order the same thing when I go to Chinese places (at least when I go there for one meal every once in a while, and not a marathon day with a meal every hour for nine hours): hot braised chicken. It’s “universally” good, with “universal” meaning Chinese places located in America, cooking food that doesn’t really qualify as “Chinese” cuisine. But I try not to split hairs. If the food’s good and the fortunes are real(comma) why complain?
“Uh, C-21,” Luke says, and makes good on his promise to pay for dinner.
The man working the register acknowledges our order in broken English and shouts it back to the kitchen in what I assume is Mandarin. It might not be. For all I know it could be Japanese, but considering there’s a flag for the People’s Republic hanging in the back, Mandarin seems to be a safe bet.
“How do you know the fortunes are good here?” Luke asks as we sit down at one of only four tables in the whole place. Every place is accompanied by a placemat explaining each sign of the zodiac along with the birth years each represents. The latest year is 2005. They must not get replaced a lot. There are paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling and watercolors on the wall. It’s a little cheesy, but that’s what makes it perfect. It’s like its own little world. And it smells like fried rice. In my world that’s always a bonus.
Chasing William Page 13