Sadie Stories

by Zachary Zilba

Rachel stepped slowly down the upstairs hallway, strangely attentive to her surroundings. The school portraits hung one beside the other, from the toothless kindergartner in the pink, lacy dress, pig tails, rosy cheeks, unknowing smile, to the senior photo. Could have easily have been two different people entirely. How strange the way people change over time and nary anyone ever notices, yet place two pictures of the same girl side by side, and it’s startling.

  She could hardly remember being that young. Perhaps it was an era of such fortunate innocence, that as we are corrupted by time, it’s erased indelibly. A gift suddenly snatched away. She continued on, closely examining the rest of this world in which she grew up and accepted without wonder. A crease in the floral wall paper. The creaking board at the foot of the staircase. The loose pillar in the banister. It all held a certain significance somehow. She had this urgent need to commit it all to memory, every last inch of this house.

  Funny how it all seemed new, though she had walked this same hallway millions of times, taken these very steps. Never had she noticed the many nooks and crannies, mostly because she never cared to pay them any attention; too busy playing with dolls, running through the house in her mother’s dresses, childish things. All the while, these old walls had witnessed her growth, sheltering her from the chill of winter, the torrential rains of summer. It was here she laughed for the first time, said her first words, took her first steps. The birthplace of so many memories, and Rachel didn’t want to forget a thing.

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs she surveyed the living room. The fireplace was empty and cold. The silence hung in the air with no place to go. Though, the grandfather clock against the far wall did offer a muffled ticking, a sound no one would ever notice otherwise. The heavy drapes filtered a bit of sunlight. Just enough to see clearly. The furniture was older than her. The couch was where she would take her naps, the matching chair across from it was once known as the time out chair where she would sit with her bottom lip stuck out and her arms crossed. The first swear word that ever crossed her lips, “Shit,” landed her in that chair for thirty minutes. And she could recall afterward running into the back yard out of her Father’s hearing range and chanting the word repeatedly just to spite her sentence served there. Shit, Shit, Shit, she sang gloriously, though she had no idea what it meant, just that it was bad, and she could get away with it as long as nobody heard.

  And then there was the piano. Once upon a time a little girl’s tiny fingers graced those dusty, ivory keys. No one had been at that bench for years. As far as she knew, she had been the last. It hadn’t been tuned in lord only knows how long, but still, she wondered if she still could...

  She sat down and studied each key below her, half afraid to touch them. The little girl inside her, still there, just hidden away, outgrown, wanted to hear that sound. She had always been quite the little virtuoso. Curiously, she pondered her ability... or, like so many other things past, had she forgotten? With her pointer finger, she gently tapped the Middle C key. It hummed through the house, faded, and fell silent again. A short, but lovely visit from an old friend. She grinned unconsciously. It was as if the piano had welcomed her back, edging her onward. It was difficult to remember all the tunes she once played so effortlessly. Various notes returned to her mind, but not an entire song. Finally, she reached into the vault of her memory and found the first song she had ever played. It came over her like the resurrection of the child she once was.

  Suddenly she was Eight years old again, and the finger that touched the first key had transformed into a small extension of a tiny hand. Her voice that sang along echoed through her like a ghost, somehow transcending time. A sweet voice, precious and youthful, untainted by what was to come. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky...” She stopped cold, her finger still depressing the last ivory. The steady hum of the chord slowly died. It seemed so easy. Too easy. A child’s tune. She needed to find something a bit more appropriate for her position. After all, she had taken plenty of lessons, she should have something better to play, perhaps something more elaborate and sophisticated.

  Rachel placed her hands accordingly and began to play the last song she learned. She sang the words softly, almost modestly. “Smile, though your heart is aching. Smile, even though it’s breaking. When there are clouds in the sky, you’ll get by. If you smile through your fears and sorrow, smile, and maybe tomorrow, you’ll see the sun come shining through.... for you-“ She paused, closing her eyes, feeling the key vibrate beneath her forefinger. She took a deep breath and opened them once again, only now, the lights had dimmed considerably.

  An old man in a wooden chair sat behind her, a cello resting between his legs. He tipped his tattered brown hat and grinned at her approvingly. She glanced over her other shoulder only to see another man sitting there behind a set of drums and symbols. He offered a polite nod of his head and wink of his eye. Finally she looked outward, beyond what appeared to be bright stage lights, sat an audience awaiting her performance. Men and women in evening gowns and tuxedos. From the rafters high above, a huge spotlight shone down directly upon her and a booming voice from the speakers presented itself, announcing her to the crowd of onlookers. “Ladies and Gentleman.... Rachel Porter!” And then she continued, only this time, accompanied by her imagination. She could her it so clearly, the plucking of the cello strings, the light tap of the symbols. It was perfect. Perfect. With a rising of exhilaration, she sang proudly. “Light up your face with gladness. Hide every trace of sadness. Although a tear may be ever so near, that’s the time, you must keep on trying. Smile, what’s the use of crying? You’ll find that life is still worthwhile, if You - Just - Smile...”

  An eruption of applause. A standing ovation. Whistles and muffled hoots and hollers from faces she could not see. This was her driving force, this moment of overwhelming exuberance. Pride in knowing she had given a performance worthy of praise. Knowing the moment belonged to her, and deservedly so. A moment earned. An effort achieved alone. The star of her own show. This was the path she had started on long ago, before she lost her way. The music. She dreamed of composing her own pieces and playing them to the world. As a little girl on this very bench, she had these dreams. The splendid striking of each key met her ears like a song all its own, and she bathed in their musical beauty, drenched herself in the strength of the tones. And yet, she was afraid it was an unlikely feat. She was only one girl and had never witnessed anything on a grand scale. As far as she was concerned, she was a myopic addition to that competitive arena. People like her aren’t met with any great expectations. Therefore, she never found it necessary to challenge herself. No one would think any the less of her for it, because no one believes it a plausible route.

  Women from Sadie become teachers, or bank tellers, or house wives. That’s why she stopped playing. She had this smoldering fear that if she had nerve enough to pursue that outlandish dream, and subsequently failed, she would never be able to go back and change directions. She would forever be trapped in the “I told you so” state. She concluded that it was more feasible to conform to the reality. Go to school, get married, have a few kids. After all, who was she to dispute the small town ideal? It was common knowledge that success was having the respect of your peers, not in setting out to realize some infantile fantasy. That was left to the free spirits and the chemically imbalanced. Nice girls do as they’re told.

  The thought made her ill, poisoning her with its rusted logic. How could she have been so stunted? The very notion of her becoming a product of this robotic environment chilled her to the bone. There was nothing wrong with having big dreams! Nothing wrong with expecting more from people than just mediocrity! One shouldn’t be considered flippant for reaching for something beyond the ordinary. Sure, some may find satisfaction in being average. Certainly those who find average easy to achieve, and if that’s all one desires, then they’ve succeeded. But what about the girl who wants mo
re? Should she cast her hopes to the wind for fear of being considered impertinent? That’s what she did... sadly. Luckily there was time to change. She could reclaim her goals, and the determination to meet them. She had it once, and it sickened her that, until now, she was all to willing to let it go.

  Now it infested her, the taste of possibility danced on her tongue and spread aggressively through her body, tickling every nerve. It was the birth of motivation. It was now clear that this audience, this fantasy, this indulgence of her imagination, didn’t have to be just that. It could be real if she just tried. True success could only be measured by the effort placed into the realization of a dream. If she were to simply accept less than she wanted using environmental impairment as an excuse, she would have already failed. She almost did... Almost. She regarded this as not an attempt, like using an arrow to hit a bull’s eye, one shot, hit or miss. This was an adventure. If she truly wished to obtain her goal, she had to keep shooting. Failure, even just falling short, was not an option. Her sights were set clear and she was ready to fire for the first time.

  With the great magnitude of the future peeking over the horizon, it made life in Sadie appear insignificant. It was as if her entire life up to this point had been a detailed preparation for this very realization.

  Churning thunder heads crept higher into the evening sky, threatening the tiny seaside village with a not too far away rumbling. A storm was coming. By the time it would reach Sadie, it would be stronger. It moved fast, like it was headed for some predetermined destination and was making a visible attempt to get there. Pleasant County, of which Sadie made up the largest portion of, was under a Severe Thunderstorm Warning as Channel 13 News reported. For once they were right, and for much of the population it came as a surprise because it was well known that, despite the advanced technology of satellite weather radar, the so called expert forecasters were typically wrong. If they called for rain, one could count on having to water their garden; if it was supposed to be sunny, most carried umbrellas. To their credit, this storm met the coast with wild rage. The rains beat against the earth with violent anger. Thick streaks of forked lightning broke from the womb of the black mother cloud with a frenzied vengeance, burning the skies with heavenly fire.

  Corey remained sleeping on the sofa. What was happening on the outside was not much different from the events inside his head. For all he knew, deep in his sheltered slumber, he could have manifested this by sheer influence. The television beeped loudly as a red stripe ran across the bottom of the screen notifying the counties in the warpath. Corey was unaware, his eyes didn’t even flutter. Then light filled the living room for a brief second, illuminating every shadow. Suddenly, as if the storm were celebrating its arrival, the television went dead. The clock on the wall stopped ticking at exactly Nine Thirteen. The street lamps on Harrington flickered twice, and then burned black. Every window darkened. The true essence of night had fallen, and Sadie had succumbed.

  Corey opened his eyes. It was odd, for the sounds of the storm did not disrupt him. Not the crashing thunder that seemed infinite or the sheets of heavy rain slamming against the metal siding of the house. It was the haunting silence that unnerved him. The steady sounds of the atmosphere became a fixture, the rain a strange melody, the thunder its voice. But the quietude appeared unwelcoming. He sat up directly, now wide awake. He looked at the blank television screen, at the oblivion beyond the spattered window pane. He turned the small knob beneath the burgundy lampshade at his side. No electricity. How long had he been sleeping? He could tell his medication was wearing off because his ribs ached more with every breath.

  “It figures,” he sighed aloud as he placed his hands over his face in an attempt to wipe the remnants of sleep from his eyes. And then he heard it. Like the leg of a table moving a short distance across the hardwood floor. It had come from behind him... somewhere back there. Corey turned and examined the dense fog of blackness. Had his Father come back? He waited to see if there would be some other evidence of an unseen presence. He called out for some confirmation. “Hello?” He waited. To his dismay, no one answered, no one was there... at least, no one who wanted him to know.

  Oh God! That was a completely nonsensical thought. The house was secure. He had made sure that both doors, back and front, were locked... hadn’t he? He couldn’t remember. “Think! Think! Did you lock the door?” All he could recollect was running into the house frantically to call Thomas. The details remained vague. THUMP! What was that? He knew he heard something this time. It was a distinctive noise. A footstep maybe? The sound of someone bumping into the desk in the outer hallway? Corey’s awareness peaked. Chills ran over his skin, prickling it, though there was no breeze. What would he do? What if someone was in the house? What if he didn’t lock the door? What if... what if... He stared hard, trying to overcome the dark, wishing he had the ability to see. Wishing there was light. Praying he was alone.

  He had the notion to curl up into a ball again. Pretend he hadn’t heard anything. Maybe he was just being paranoid... maybe it was just a projection of his vivid imagination. He did have a tendency to dramatize things. It could have been the house. The house was settling, or the water heater kicked on in the closet. Corey tried to obtain his composure, his collected frame of mind. He laid back down, staring up at the ceiling, his hands maneuvering around each other nervously on his stomach. He was being absurd. He rolled his eyes in jest and relaxed. Certainly if someone wanted to kill him, they would have done it already, while he was sleeping.

  And then the figure leapt over the back of the sofa, landing poised on top of Corey, pinning him to the cushions. Corey cried out in terror, unable to move, or fight the attacker off. He struggled for freedom until he notice the slight red glow above him. The harsh stench of fresh cigarette smoke scorched his nostrils. It was him. He was here. That boy. He was back.

  “You miss me?” The kid asked playfully, the deep rasp in his voice oozing contempt and morbid amusement.

  Corey felt the shards of fear rip through his veins, fueled by the power of his pounding heart. He said nothing.

  The kid sucked on his cigarette, “We have unfinished business, you and me. You didn’t actually think I would let you get away, did you?” He took the cigarette between his thumb and pointer finger, “Paybacks are a bitch.” He placed the fiery end of the cigarette to Corey’s eye.

  Corey turned his head to avoid the scalding heat, but the boy grabbed his neck and forced him back, his hand slowly tightening. “This will only hurt for a minute.” The ash crushed into the wetness of his eye. Corey screamed in agony. His arms flailed through the air, and then he fell off the couch to the floor.

  He quickly sat up and saw no one there. He wiped the tears from his eye. It took a moment before he had the presence of mind to realize it was just a nightmare. Nothing more. Trembling air rattled loosely in his gullet. He couldn’t control it. He felt like he were hyperventilating. He wept aloud, still terrified even though it was over with. He cradled himself, unable to find consolation. Just breathe. Just breathe. Finally, he found his bearings, now able to differentiate the real from the unreal. “I’m okay.” He thought. “I’m okay.” He rose from the floor, still rather shaken and unstable. He swallowed with trouble, unable to contract the muscles in his throat. The fear ruled him. He had to exile it from his mind. Those kids were not as much an enemy as that of the fear they incurred, of which had branded Corey, claiming him. Unwilling to be branded, Corey disciplined his muscles and regained some sense of reason. He pushed his hand through his long dark hair and started into the kitchen. It could have been a subconscious act of paranoia, or a display of responsibility, or even just habit, but he walked to the sliding glass door that lead to the back patio and he tugged on it, checking to make sure it was locked. Thankfully, it did not budge. What a relief.

  He walked out of the kitchen to back into the living room and on into the hallway. He put his hand around the doorknob and turned it, cringing as it opened with
ease. He immediately turned to face the foyer. He never remembered darkness being so... dark. Gusts of fast wind blew against his back, rustling papers on the desk, that scattered and drifted up into the air, and then to the floor. He couldn’t suppress his anxiety, it defied him. He grew more tense as he moved to the bottom of the stairwell and gazed upward. As the breezes that infiltrated the house through the open door became more volatile, portraits hanging from the walls began to quake, and one fell. The glass shattered on impact, followed instantly by a deafening crack of thunder.

  Instantly, Corey spun around, panic taking hold of him. He ran out the front door, slamming it behind him. The cold rain beat against his flesh as he escaped into the front yard and kept going. He had no idea where he was going, but anywhere would be better than that house. It was as though he were guided by an invisible track, one that would not let him derail. Into the street he fled, his feet splashing through puddles of black water that jump up at him. Lightening streaked above, horizontally across rotating sky, taunting him, feeding his fright. With his eyes flooded and his T-shirt and jeans drenched, his black hair glistening like an oil slick, he found himself charging up Thomas’s lawn. He slipped on the wet grass but didn’t fall. He bounded up onto the porch and pounded on the door, his chest rising and falling from the exertion. Impatiently, he grabbed the doorknob and pushed it open, rushing inside.

  He closed the door behind him and then glanced around the empty house. He knew it was rather bold to help himself in like he did, and because of his polite upbringing, he pondered Thomas’ reaction, even debated whether to go back outside and knock again. Then, he noticed a dim light at the top of the stairs, it appeared to pulsate, brightening and dimming.

  “Thomas?” His voice shook slightly. He made sure not to be too loud, for it would disrupt the serene surrounding. Out of pure desperation, an insatiable need to see a familiar face, he walked up the steps. He could hear music in the distance, something slow and soft. A velvety voice backed by the gentle convergence of instruments.

  Once at the top, he found the light coming from Thomas’s bedroom. The door was halfway open and the eerie, yellowish glow from inside enveloped the white walls. Corey began down the long, wide hall, toward the room cautiously. He knew that, once he found Thomas, actually faced him, he owed him and explanation for his intrusive behavior. For some reason, ‘I had a bad dream,’ didn’t sound to appropriate. Thoughts presented themselves and quickly ebbed, for Corey’s only interest was in being away from home. As he approached the door, he found a strange comfort in knowing that Thomas was just on the other side. He knocked lightly, and then gave it a modest shove. The room came into view and he stepped inside.

  Candles flickered on their wicks all over the room. Dozens of candles, taper candles in sconces, votive candles in glass cups. Thomas was nowhere in sight, though his bed was unmade, and the music was coming from the battery operated stereo on the corner shelf. And then he saw them. He didn’t know why they hadn’t been the first thing he noticed, but now they had his full attention. Large framed drawings hanging from the walls, ten of them, all drawn in exquisite detail, as if every thrust of the charcoal pencil, every line, was a picture all its own. They were all of Corey, all of himself. One drawing depicted his face, just his eyes, his lips and nose, amidst a partially clouded sky, as if he were staring down from the heavens. Another had him standing at his own bedroom window, a far off look on his face. But the one that captured his full attention was the one of him sitting on the wall of the school water fountain, the water cascading around him, framing him, his hands folded in his lap. That was the first time he had seen Thomas, there at that same fountain.

  Corey had totally forgotten the terror, had cast it off for that of a more pleasant demeanor, one of enchantment, of precociousness. In his mind, he tried to go back to that day represented so lavishly by Thomas’s talented hand. He wondered if he ever truly did look as Thomas drew him. So splendidly perfect in a moment when no one noticed. Perhaps so lost in a world of his own that, on the outside, his absence showed, making him completely vulnerable to another’s perception. When he couldn’t manipulate it by his own feelings of insufficiency, or try to compensate for it. An unaware state where he had no incentive to be anything but himself. He was totally unmasked. Just when he thought no one was looking... Someone was. Thomas. Thomas had seen the real him. And now, here it was before him. Elegantly framed by stained oak, beneath flawless glass that caught every solitary movement of the flames blazing around the room.

  He heard the creaking of a door behind him and abruptly turned. Thomas walked out of the bathroom, his hair dripping, a cloth towel around his waist. Upon seeing Corey, he stopped firmly, not saying a word at first for he believed it was a hallucination. I could not be. That he would be here, in the middle of the night?

  Corey watched him for a moment before allowing a half smile, he grabbed for an excuse, a reason for being in his room, uninvited. “I had a bad dream,” he said, a solid break between his words denoting his discomfort. Yep! It did sound like a putrid reason. He should have just made something up. Damn.

  Thomas didn’t reply. He just stared at Corey, his eyes glued to him, his expression undecipherable.

  Corey shifted his weight from his right leg to his left, just for something to do, so he wouldn’t stand there like a statue, “I knocked, but I guess...”

  Thomas cut him off, “I was in the shower,” he claimed as he gestured toward the candle lit doorway behind him.

  “I normally wouldn’t barge in like this...” Corey stammered hopelessly, “But, I was- I was just scared.”

  Thomas gazed up at the portrait behind Corey, and it dawned on him that he had been looking at them, probably thinking that Thomas was a lunatic, or stalker. He hurried to amend himself. “I know what you must be thinking,” he began apologetically, “I was just trying-“

  “They’re beautiful,” Corey intervened as he followed Thomas’ suit and spun to face the picture, “I remember this day.” He returned to Thomas and approached him slowly, “Why of me?” He asked sincerely as he stopped a few feet from him.

  “I just-“ Why did this have to be so difficult? Why did he feel like he had to make up some lie? He had been caught. Corey had come into his room and uncovered his most guarded secret. There was no point in continuing on with this wretched charade. If Corey rejected him he would simply have to deal with it, not keep dodging the inevitable. “You want to know why,” he repeated softly to himself, needing to face the question, mustering courage that he did not possess. “I wanted to have you around,” he stated shyly as his eyes met the floor in shame.

  Corey tried to process the answer as best he could, but before he could find any conclusions, he needed more clarification, “You wanted me around?”

  Thomas, inflicted with swelling humiliation, stepped up to Corey, standing in front of him. He pried his head upwards to see Corey’s face, look into his eyes, and let it go. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m going to say it anyway. I need to say it.” He paused, examining Corey closely, bravely. “Everything means more to me when I’m with you. I’ve tried not to impose myself on you, or make you feel uncomfortable. I know you can’t love someone like me. I know that. But even so, I feel good loving you. It’s right for me. I need you in my life. I need to see you. I need to hear your voice and... I need know that you’re close to me.” Thomas sighed heavily, already defeated, “That’s why I did it. I’m sorry.” He said sadly as he moved past him toward the center of the room, unable to stand in Corey’s view any longer.

  A tear ran down Corey’s cheek, mixing with the rain droplets that had yet to dry. He had dreamt of this for so long. He never believed it would actually happen. That Thomas would confess feelings of admiration was something that Corey thought impossible. All this time they had loved each other, and yet were to afraid to admit it. Now, here, Thomas was telling him exactly what he had been longing to hear. An offering of love... for him.
He could be loved, and he was- by the man he, himself, loved in return. It somehow made it all worthwhile. All the waiting. All the wondering. Even the silly denials and lies that he too was guilty of. What mattered was now, and this man who stood with him.

  “I love you too.”

 

  As those words crossed Corey’s lips, those words so familiar inside, where only he could hear, but unfamiliar when uttered them aloud, he wept with joy. He knew that they had been preserved for this very encounter.

  Thomas closed his eyes and let Corey’s voice play like a record inside his head. How he treasured hearing him say that. He turned back to Corey and approached him, “What if this is just another dream, and in a few minutes I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone again.”

  “If this is a dream, then when you wake, tell me again you love me-“ Corey felt his sculpted chest against his back. At first he felt he should move away, as if it were an accident that Thomas would stand so close. But, he did not move, for he liked it, and the temptation to stay overrode his politeness. Only now, just having him close wasn’t enough. He wanted him closer, so he leaned into him further. “-And my reply will be the same as it is tonight.” Though it was a subtle advance, he didn’t want to appear to zealous, so he discreetly searched for some invitation, a more concrete reason to remain. He waited for Thomas to say something. Anything... And then he felt his hands on his shoulders, ever so softly, then down his naked arms.

  “Then stay,” Thomas whispered quietly as he ran his lips along the bridge of Corey’s ear.

  Corey reached up behind him and caressed Thomas’s face with back of his hand. He could feel the warmth of his mouth on his neck as he spoke. His touch set him on fire, and the cold that had settled into his bones from the rain, was now gone. He turned to Thomas, facing him head on. It surprised him that he was not afraid, nor modest. Without questioning himself, he touched Thomas’s exposed chest, then moved into him, kissing him with the furor of a lion uncaged. It was if he’d suddenly broken free from all of his mental and emotional bindings. Now, he craved Thomas.

  Thomas pulled back from their union, inspecting Corey’s face with great fondness, “Do you want to?”

  Corey breathed his reply, and for fear it wasn’t heard, nodded.

  They stood perfectly still for a moment, enraptured by each other’s nearness. Then, Thomas took the bottom of Corey’s T-shirt between his fingers, his eye’s gracing his pale face, drinking in his slight frame. Those penetrating black eyes, supple lips. He pulled his shirt upward, peeling it from his wet flesh. Corey lifted his arms, and together they removed it, dropping it to the carpet like an old skin. He let his hands explore Corey’s face, moving his thumb across his lower lip, down his neck, over his collarbone. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long. I’ve played this night over and over again in my head, having you here with me.” He slide his hand over his breast and continued on down. “I thought I would be scared to talk to you. Afraid I would do something you didn’t want me to do... say things you wouldn’t want me to say. It wasn’t like this. It wasn’t as perfect.” He fondled the button on Corey’s jeans. “Are you scared?” He asked respectively.

  “No.”

  Thomas moved his finger inside Corey’s waistband, “I was so scared to be close to you... Afraid I would touch you. I was so frightened of touching you. Maybe not frightened of touching you, but more frightened of not being able to stop.”

  Corey took a step back toward the bed, and Thomas followed. He took off his towel and tossed it aside, and then crawled on top of Corey, easing him down to the surface of the mattress. Corey could feel Thomas’s solidness pressing into him as he wrapped his arms around his waist, back over his firm buttocks. Thomas pushed his hand into Corey’s pants and forced them off. Upon unveiling Corey’s body, he gazed upon it with immense appreciation.

  The lovemaking was filled with the graceful and engaging power of body against body. With soothing whispers growing into primal cries of sensuous titillation, they pleased each other. Thomas slid himself inside of Corey, and it was then they partook of true oneness. With a rhapsodic motion, they moved upon the waves of rapture. They held each other tightly, knowing they were there, and forever would be creating memories only they would share.

  Corey sat upright with his legs positioned around Thomas’s waist as Thomas kissed his erect nipples, stroking his back, moving his hand forward to the insides of Corey’s thighs while he rose and fell with choreographed movements upon him. Corey was in ecstasy. Feeling his lover touch him, caress him, come inside of him, made it more intimate and exciting than he ever imagined possible. This wasn’t just sex, this was a declaration of their love that had been imprisoned for far too long. It was an evening of definitive passion. They had touched one another in so many ways. Thomas was gentle with his lovemaking. He looked down from above, “I will always love you,” he assured in a hushed tone as their hands met in an intense grip and their breathing grew fast and labored.

  With perspiration pilling on their meshed bodies, they climaxed together. They were now one grand being. They stayed in each other arms long into the night, dreaming dreams that only lovers dreamed, hearing sounds only lovers heard, and feeling only what lovers feel. This was the reason love existed, this moment, this night. Love in the purist form. The storm had moved on, but traces of it could still be heard somewhere far way.

  Angie had just fallen asleep when her telephone rang. At first she thought she was dreaming, so she answered aloud. “Hello?” She mumbled deliriously as she turned on her side. The phone was still nagging, insistent on waking her up. She opened her eyes and wrinkled her nose disgustedly. She slung her arm toward the night stand, knocking the alarm clock to the ground. She felt around for the phone, and finally found it. She grabbed the receiver and pulled it to her ear. “Hello?” She yawned.

  Rachel giggled on the other end of the line. “Hey.”

  “What time is it?” Angie asked rubbing her eyes.

  “It’s only Eight Thirty. Did I wake you?” She asked facetiously.

  Angie yawned again, “No. I was exercising.”

  Rachel laughed as she twisted the telephone cord between her fingers. She was still dressed and even had make-up on. She simply could not rest. She was sprawled out on her bed, her legs crossed, her neck arched back over the edge of the mattress looking at her surroundings upside down. “I can’t seem to wind down. I’m like on this natural high or something. It’s after midnight, so that means we only have Twenty four hours left in Sadie. I’m drowning in anticipation, sleep is unfathomable.”

  “Try,” Angie suggested as her droopy eyes disappeared beneath their lids.

  “I don’t want too! Sleep is boring. Besides, all I’ll do is toss and turn all night. I’d rather be busy.”

  “Rachel, I love you, but can’t you call someone else. Call Corey.” Angie begged as she flipped onto her belly, trying in vain to find all the warm spots where she once slept so soundly.

  “I can’t call Corey. He’s probably mad at me. I have been neglecting him. I haven’t even bothered to inquire about his health since he’s been home from the hospital.”

  “Why not? Are you guys fighting?”

  “No. No, we’re not fighting. It just seems a little awkward to call him after what happened. You know, seeing Gabe in the ambulance with him. I wouldn’t know what to say. Of course, I’d want to know what business Gabe had being in the ambulance with him, but it would make me sound selfish, like that’s all I cared about, totally disregarding his well-being. Gabe hasn’t even bothered to call me to offer an explanation. You’d think that would have been the first thing he’d do.” Rachel sat up and drew her knees up to her bosom, resting her head on them. “But I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Everything here is coming to a close. Life as I know it is about to change. I thought about letting it all go.”

  Angie stared out the window as she listened carefully to everything her friend had to say. “Letti
ng all of what go?” She inquired, her attention now fully devoted to the conversation.

  “You know... all of this. Everything here. Everything from my past. I’m not the same person I was when you met me. I don’t feel the same way about things, about myself. It’s like, all of the decisions I made throughout my life seemed appropriate at the time. I had this trust in my life. I trusted that everything was there to stay. Now, I see that those decisions were based on childish ideals. On what I wanted my life to be, not what it was. So I beagn to question the foundation of things, all that I’ve built myself on. It’s not as stable as I once believed it was. This last summer has proven that to me. I started thinking that all of my previous choices were sort of... invalid, I guess. I looked back on it and dissected every choice, wondering if I would make the same ones if I had the opportunity to go back. I wouldn’t. I know I wouldn’t. So, I began to think of it all as insubstantial, like a practice run. But if that were true, then it would be easy to forget, right? And it’s not. All that’s happened here, this is what matters to me. I may be leaving for college, but one thing remains the same. I’ll always come back to Sadie. This is where I came from. These people, you and Corey and Gabe... you’re all part of me. Everyone has contributed something to who I am. That would be ignorant of me just to throw it all away. I never want to forget where I came from. My childhood... my family, my friends. I’ll always come back to that, you know? That’s where it all began. That’s where I began.” Rachel listened for a response, but heard nothing. She thought that Angie had fallen asleep until she heard a muffled stir on the other end. “Angie?” She called meekly.

  “I’m still here,” Angie assured, “I am listening. I understand what you’re telling me. There was a part of you that wanted to turn away from it all. Discard the past. I was just having a hard time translating the meaning. It almost sounded like you would have left without a backward glance, or a good-bye. Like you were going to leave us... Me, and disappear into your future, while I disappeared into your past. Is that right?”

  Rachel ran her fingernails against her bottom lip as she stared at the wall opposite her, “Yes.”

  “Why?” Angie interrogated heartbroken.

  “Because I was stupid. So many things are going on, and I can’t find the ability to comprehend them and it scared me a little. I thought that it wasn’t worth the effort because I would be gone soon anyways. It was that little girl inside of me, the one I thought I grew out of. She was ready to run from it all. Pretend none of it happened, hoping it wouldn’t follow her into the real world.” She buried her head in her hand and her voice broke. “I just don’t know what to do. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore. Like I fell asleep one night and woke up and the world around me change. Things changed and I don’t know when, or why.”

  “What do you mean?” Angie asked, feeling her sore eyes dampen.

  “The whole Gabe thing. One day he’s picking me up after church for our Sunday walks. The next day I think of him as a bothersome appendage. And then, he’s running to Corey’s rescue when they don’t even know each other. I keep asking myself, ‘What did I miss?’ I even started to feel distanced from you and Corey. And then there’s the whole thing with my Mom and Corey’s Dad... I know there’s something happening between them, and I should be happy.... I know it’s silly, but I’m so used to this artificial institution where things happen, but they’re not spoken about or acknowledged in any way... They just happen.” She grew very silent, as though these were thoughts spoken for the first time. “I always just stood on the outside watching, but I feel like I’m in the middle of it all now. I have to understand things... I want to understand them, but there are so many pieces missing that I can’t make out a clear picture. That whole scenario, it took me back to when my Mom was with my dad and I believed everything, my life, their life, was perfect... untouchable. I reverted back to being dependent on everyone to handle things. I didn’t feel I was strong enough, or smart enough to put it all together. So... I was going to leave it. She was careful to steady her tone now, “But I can’t do that now. It’s not fair, not fair to me, or to the ones I care about. That’s why I’m calling you.”

  Angie wiped her face on the sleeve of her nightshirt. She understood Rachel’s position. Why she would become so disoriented. What she did not understand was why she was calling her. What was she accomplishing in doing so? Did she just need to vent?

  “Why? Angie closed her eyes in quiet contemplation. What began as a simple phone call had become something much more important. She knew Rachel had used restlessness as a veiled excuse now, but her confessions left Angie worried... “Why are you calling me?”

  Rachel grinned contentedly. She pushed her long hair back over her shoulder and laid down, “To say... Thank you for being my friend.”

  Angie sat up, her back resting against her oak headboard. It was as though a harpoon of guilt had drilled through her. After all of these months and countless opportunities to be the friend Rachel believed her to be, she wasn’t. She had been hoarding such terrible secrets that, as they soured in her awareness, she had soured with them. While Rachel groped aimlessly for some direction that would lead her to resolution, or at least, piece of mind, Angie had, and was still, hindering her. She was supposed to be Rachel’s best friend. Her helping hand, her listening ear, her guiding light. She had not lived up to her own standards. Her much cherished friendship had been perverted by a concoction of lies, and betrayal. All of this had festered inside Angie, tarnishing everything she offered as a so-called friend. No matter what she would do, if she kept what she knew to herself, it would never be a pure offering. If she sent a card to Rachel, the very second the ink began to form her name, the secret would surface, and it would laugh, mocking her gesture. Anything that had to do with Rachel, even hearing her name, would summon everything hidden. Shame would rule her, and her friendship with Rachel would be nothing more than a sham. She had filled Gabe’s shoes, following in his footsteps. She was a liar. She had lied to someone she loved, and who loved her. How could she do this? After being so alone for such a long time, you’d think she’d honor her two dear friends. She had not. These people helped change her life, gave her confidence, and she had spit on them. The truth had corroded the last bit self-respect she owned. An apology wasn’t enough now. Only the truth could set her free.

  “I have something I need to say,” Angie began, inhaling deeply, hoping the air would renew her strength, give her courage. “You know Corey’s boyfriend, Chris?”

  Rachel was a little discerned by the shuttering in Angie’s voice, “Yeah. I’ve never met him, but I know who he is.”

  Angie held the phone so tightly that her knuckles had turned white, “You’ve never met him because it’s Gabe.”

  Rachel’s breath caught in her throat, every muscle in her body tensed to the point of pain, and she waited...

  Angie continued “Gabe and Chris are the same person. It was during the dance after graduation. I walked out into the parking lot to tell Corey that I had feelings for him, and I found him and Gabe dancing outside... they were kissing.”

  “You’re joking... That’s not Funny.”

  “No... I’m not.”

  “Why are you saying this?” She heard Angie begin to cry on the other end, and suddenly the life drained from her body. She knew it was the truth... Another truth that seemed so obvious now... one she had not seen. Maybe one she had not wanted to see... and now the anger began...

  Angie sobbed heavily, and hearing Rachel’s quiet cries on the other end made her cry harder, “I thought it was a joke when Corey introduced him as Chris. I wanted to tell you guys. I told him I was going to tell both of you, and I-“

  CLICK.

  Rachel slammed down the telephone and shot up from her bed. She made a frantic dash from her room and blindly scaled the staircase. She was burning with rage and had a ravenous appetite for revenge. She hit the front door with power, not bothering to close it behi
nd her. She ran out across the lawn into the street where the rain spattered trees still dripped. Now, another storm was brewing, one more threatening and violent than the last, for this one was in the all too small confines of her hell bent mind. Nothing short of death could stop her from ending this.

  As she ran down Cherry street, cutting a path through the callous winds, Rachel saw how the fringed seams of the story met, and for once, it lavished upon her the gift of clarity. Unfortunately, along with this revelation came a dangerous combination of pain and sorrow. She was crying, and she couldn’t tell whether it was from her explosive frenzy, or the indomitable sadness that accompanied it.

  Angie ran out of her house and to the side of the garage. Her skin had been etched with the remnants of tears fallen. She pulled her ten speed bicycle away from the moist brick and jumped on, pedaling as fast as her legs would go. She had just exposed a scandal that could potentially destroy four lives. She knew Rachel would go to Gabe’s, despite the late hour. Her intent was to get there first. She had to tell Gabe what she had done, and why. This night was the night of redemption. She had to tell her side of the story so no one would mistakenly assume that she lied maliciously. It would be a viable deduction if she weren’t there in her own defense. She would seem a coward.

  Within minutes she was on Harrington. She was grateful that she lived considerably closer to Gabe than Rachel did. This was her chance to prove to them all that she did not willingly take part in this ongoing charade. Did she? Nothing was stopping her from exposing the truth, nothing but her own fear of exposing herself. That deep seeded love she felt for Corey. If she had told them, it would have appeared that her motives were self-serving, as if she wanted to blow Gabe’s cover in order to benefit herself.

  No. No. That was not an excuse. She had no excuse, no defense for her crime. In all of her life, from the time she had moved to Sadie, she had grown into a mold of loneliness, believing it was all that would be. And then, Corey and Rachel danced their way into her heart, made her trust, where she could not before. Then Gabe tied strings to her wrists and used her as his personal puppet in his wicked game of deceit, turning her own insecurities and weaknesses against her.

  Angie saw Gabe’s house come into view. She was quietly gasping for air from weeping so uncontrollably. She had forsaken all she treasured, and not so much for her own benefit, but for Gabe’s. All to protect him. So what if Corey new she loved him? At least that was honest. Instead of pursuing an honest relationship, she opted to dive into this torturous sea of angst, and all because Gabe had threatened to tell Corey of her love for him. How dare he? How dare he be so diluted that he would manipulate her into lying for him- No. That’s not it. Gabe didn’t do anything that Angie hadn’t allowed. She WAS a willing participant in his game. This blunt realization struck her with such brutish force, that, as she jumped off her bike, she was stopped by the presence of it. She was trying to lay blame. Grasping for a conceivable reason as to why she would have gone so far with this. There was none. She did it of her own free will. A real friend would have told them immediately after. She did not, and she knew they would want to know why. Whatever answer she gave would not offer any comfort. She did it out of selfishness. She was just as guilty as Gabe, and now it was time to call it out.

  She hurried up to Gabe’s porch, noticing a light still on in the front window. She knocked on the door. Waited. As the knob began to turn, she felt her heart ascend into her throat.

  Mary Cavanaugh poked her head out. “Yes?” She shot Angie an inquisitive glare, silently questioning her solicitation.

  “Is Gabe here? I need to talk to him. Tell him it’s important,” Angie said unsteadily.

  Mary smiled and opened up the door all the way, initiating an entrance. She noticed Gabe’s family, his father, sister and brother, all lounging around in the dining room. The table was cluttered with plates, some still full with half eaten food. Crete paper had been draped from the chandelier to all four corners of the room. A hand made sign hung on the wall reading, “Farewell Gabe. We’ll Miss You,” in big colorful letters.

  Mary held the small of Angie’s back as she issued her toward the table. “You’re a little late sweetie. We were just getting ready to clean up. We have some pie left if you’d like some,” Mary offered in her pleasant tone, soft as butter, sweet as honey.

  Angie shook her head politely, scanning the room for Gabe. Her anxiety was overwhelming her. “I really need to see Gabe.”

  Mary took note of the disruption in Angie’s mannerisms. The way she wove her hands together, the solemn expression on her withered face.

  “He went upstairs to make a call. Third door on the left,” She stated slowly, glancing at her husband warily.

  Angie instantly turned and raced up the wooden steps. She marched down the hall to the third door on the left. She was angry. Angry at herself. Angry at Gabe for continuing this treachery. The more she thought about it, how none of this would have happened had Gabe just told the truth. How she would never have to be here at this very moment, feeling so lost, if he had only been the strong, courageous man all of Sadie thought him to be.

  She didn’t bother knocking, she just barged into his room. Gabe was sitting on his bed. Upon seeing her, he jumped up, greeting her with fearful eyes. “It’s done.” She snapped hatefully, “It’s over with, Gabe.”

  Gabe said nothing for a second. He simply stared at her. He took two steps closer to her. They stood like stone in each other’s sight.

  “What did you do?” Gabe asked, already knowing, but needing to hear.

  Angie didn’t falter in her stance. She would not let him frighten her. She would not be diminished by him. She had no respect for this man. He was nothing to her. Therefore, she gave him no power. She was the one with the all the power, and she reveled in it, for it was the first time she didn’t feel as if the floor were the only thing accepting of her stare. Angie narrowed her eyes, loosened her lips, “I told Rachel everything. She knows, Gabe. She’s on her way here now. You will not lie to her anymore... and neither will I,” She promised harshly.

  Gabe looked around the room helplessly. He rushed to the window and peered through the curtains at the ground below. He looked back to Angie, hoping and praying she was not serious. “If- If- you told her,” Gabe stammered threateningly, “Then you just ruined yourself. You know that, right? She’ll know that you’ve been lying. She’ll hate you too, and you’ll have lost her for good. She’ll never be your friend again.”

  Angie knew he was undoubtedly right, and though it hurt fiercely, she had to pay the consequences, just as he had to. She wished that Rachel would somehow manage to forgive her, and that they might maintain some degree of friendship, but she also knew it was unlikely.

  Angie marched up to Gabe, “You may be right. But, I’m ending this now. She may hate us both, but at least you’ll never hurt her again. You’ll never hurt either one of them. And though I may have gone along with you, I at least have the decency to stop it once and for all. You didn’t even have that. You were going to leave here with them both believing in you, trusting you. You don’t deserve their trust, and maybe I don’t either, but I’m preserving the last bit of quality my friendship has.” She breathed hard through her nose, hard and fast as she scolded him with her eyes, “They’ll hate us, Gabe. They’re right to hate us. But I won’t leave Sadie hating myself for what I’ve done. I have to make it right.”

  “You notice how it’s always cooler after it rains?” Corey asked as he held Thomas’ hand. Thomas had been kind enough to walk him home. If fact, he wouldn’t have had it any other way. “This is my favorite time. After the rain. There’s certain sense of peace. What do they call that? The calm after the storm?”

  Thomas laughed, “I believe you’re thinking of the calm before the storm.”

  “Yeah, but I prefer to look forward to what happens after the storm. It’s sort of a more optimistic way of acknowledging that it’s happened, it’s over
, and you’ve survived. Then you get to enjoy the solitude afterwards as a reward.” He was looking down at their reflections in the puddles along the edge of the curb. Their image would distort as a random drop fell from a wire above, and then settle once again, bringing them back into focus. It was as if his ethereal surroundings were giving him their blessing. It was a moment of particular splendor, where everything seemed to synchronize, the patterns of their breath, the stepping of their feet.

  Thomas wrapped his arm around Corey and kissed him on the head gently, “You’re good for me, you know that?”

  “You’re good for me too. I don’t want to leave tomorrow. I don’t want to leave you.” Corey stated sadly.

  “You don’t have to,” Thomas informed casually, the smile on his face growing as Corey looked up at him surprised.

  “What?” Corey asked curiously, smitten by Thomas’s radiance.

  He stopped, and took Corey’s shoulders. He could no longer hide his delight, “I got accepted to the San Francisco Academy of Art. I’ll be with you. We can be together.”

  Corey didn’t know what to say. He was so overcome with joy that his only notion was to embrace him. As he did, he heard his name called from the shadows far ahead. Stunned by the sound, he and Thomas watched for the owner to appear.

  “Corey!” Rachel entered the soft glow of the street lamp a few yards away. Neither Corey nor Thomas could make out her identity until she came closer, for a light fog had fallen. As Corey realized who it was, he broke from Thomas’ arms and began toward her, He knew something was wrong.

  “Rachel?”

  Her hair was moist and stringy with dew. Her face was flushed and blank. They met in the middle of the street. Corey was disturbed by her battered appearance, “What are you doing, It’s late? Are you okay?”

  Without an explanation, she took his hand, “Come with me,” she said gravely as she began pulling him toward Gabe’s house.

  Corey was taken of guard by her demanding way. He straggled behind as she drug him along. She obviously knew where she was going, “What are you doing? Where are we going, Rachel? What’s going on?”

  “We’re going to visit friend,” She rattled sarcastically as they walked up onto Gabe’s porch.

  Corey pulled out of her grasp, “What the hell are you doing. Are you crazy? I don’t know these people!”

  Rachel banged her fist against the door, then turned over her shoulder, “Oh, trust me... yes you do,” she said coldly, in a grim voice unlike herself.

  It bothered Corey beyond measure to see her like this. Almost scared him.

  Thomas pushed his hands into his pockets and walked across the street, standing on the sidewalk in front of Gabe’s house, watching them carefully.

  Gabe’s Mother opened the door. She eyed Rachel and grinned, “Rachel, what a surprise.” Then glanced at Corey and her face fell. She was wondering what Rachel was doing with the lesbian.

  “Mrs. Cavanagh, we need to see Gabe. Is he here?” She asked firmly.

  Corey hung behind her uncomfortably.

  Mary stood aside, and Corey and Rachel walked inside the house. As Corey passed her, he greeted her kindly. “Hi,” he said half embarrassed.

  Mary’s mouth twitched its way into a bewildered grin. “Hi,” she responded shakily in a less than welcoming spirit.

  Rachel took authority. She paced back and forth in the foyer, searching diligently for her deplorable one. Upon noticing Rachel’s obvious distraction, Mary motioned sharply for her husband to tend to them. When Rachel turned to her, Mary resumed her polite demeanor. “We haven’t see you around lately, Rachel dear. Has everything been okay?” Mary inquired graciously as her husband appeared at her side. “Hey Rachel. Long time no see.”

  Rachel marched up to them eagerly, “Where is Gabe?” She asked bluntly, disregarding their reverent formalities. She was here for one reason, and one reason only.

  Mary took a dubious step toward her, unnerved by the girl’s rigidness. “He’s upstairs...”

  Instantly, Rachel grabbed Corey’s shoulder and forced him to the bottom of the steps. She looked at him with devastating candor. “Call your boyfriend,” she demanded.

  Corey looked at Mr. And Mrs. Cavanaugh apologetically, then eased his attention back to his friend. “Have you lost your damn mind? You’re humiliating me beyond belief, Rachel!” He scolded firmly.

  “CALL HIM!” Rachel repeated louder.

  “CALL WHO?” Corey snapped, raising his voice to compete with hers.

  “Call Chris.”

  “Why? What for?”

  Mary and Martin Cavanagh shared a befuddled glance as the two visitors continued their argument.

  “Do it!” Rachel blasted anxiously.

  “No! You came here looking for Gabe, right? Why would you want me to call Chris?” Corey interrogated.

  “Don’t be difficult, Corey. Gabe lives here, okay?”

  “Gabe lives here?”

  “Yes!”

  “Your Gabe?”

  “Yes.”

  “How come I’ve never seen him before?”

  “If you would just cooperate with me you’ll see why, damn it!” Rachel fumed. For some reason, she thought this would be easier. Maybe Gabe would be a problem, but Corey?

  Corey scratched the back of his head and gazed around, pondering his purpose here, and her unusual request. He felt eyes penetrating him from all corners of the room, he spoke quietly. “Can we leave?”

  “Call him.” she growled, and she wasn’t kidding.

  Corey took a deep breath, unable to forget that he was under constant supervision by Mr. and Mrs. Cavanagh and the rest of the clan. He felt silly, but he complied with Rachel’s wishes just to shut her up.

  “CHRIS?” Corey bellowed up the stairs. He gave the couple behind him a stiffened look. He wanted to die.

  “Yeah?” A deep voice called from the dining room. Gabe’s brother walked around the corner. “Someone call me?” Christopher Cavanaugh quizzed as he explored their faces. He was holding one half of a breadstick, the other half in his mouth.

  Corey raised his eyebrows, “You’re not Chris.” He uttered perplexed.

  Christopher stopped chewing, his eyes darting from his parents to this stranger. He seemed to be seriously considering the possibility of an identity crisis before finally coming to the conclusion that he was who he was. “Yes, I am.”

  Corey shook his head in humorous disagreement, “No. No, you’re not.”

  “Yeah... I am,” Christopher corrected.

  “Uh... no.” Corey informed otherwise.

  Christopher cocked his head to one side, “Yes,” he hissed in an upward tone.

  “No.” Corey continued, only now more unyielding. “Who are you?”

  “Look, I have no clue what’s going on here but you are not-“

  Christopher interjected, “I am Chris, aren’t I?” Mary and Martin hurried to support him. Mary stroked his arm, “Of course you are dear.” “As far as I knew, son. Last I time I saw you...” Martin clamored as he put his arm around his wife’s shoulder.

  Just then, Gabe appeared at the top of the stairs. Angie peered over the side railing. Gabe watched his lovers from above. He cleared his throat so his presence would be known.

  Rachel and Corey turned simultaneously to see him. Corey took one step up, relieved to see him but was shocked to see Angie lingering beside him. Both pale as ghosts.

  “Chris.” Corey said apprehensively, the situation becoming more daunting.

  “What? Christopher answered behind him, taking another bite of his breadstick.

  “Not you!” Corey barked, clearly peeved.

  Rachel kept her eyes glued to Gabe, silently reviling him. She knew he could feel her scorching thoughts of detest. Castrating him.

  “What’s going on?” Corey asked, trusting that, without a doubt, Chris would untangle him from this ominous web.

  Rachel leaned again
st the wall, folding her arms over her chest, “Yes, Chris, why don’t you fill him in.”

  “That’s not Chris, I’m Chris. I am!” Christopher debated before swallowing his food.

  Gabe descended further, stopping on the step just above Corey, “No. Corey’s right. I am Chris-“

  “Then who’s that?!” Corey slung his arm back and pointed to Christopher.

  “Tell him the truth,” Rachel seethed.

  “I will....”

  Corey studied the expressions of those around him. Their visible tension distressed him. He felt like he was still missing something. Frustrated by the disillusionment that occupied the empty spaces between them, and their impalpable intentions, he stepped down from Gabe.

  Gabe filled Corey’s previous step in an attempt to stay close to him. “I’m Chris to you, Corey.”

  “What?” Corey questioned, now more confused than ever.

  “That means that Chris is not his real name,” Rachel replied on Gabe’s behalf.

  Corey opened his mouth to speak, but no words formed. It took a good while for him to harness the ability to make sense, “Then... who are you?” He asked, feeling as though he were about to be made into a fool.

  The whole room fell quiet. No one dared make a sound. By now, the entire Cavanaugh family had made their way into the narrow foyer, each one holding their breaths as if watching some trash T.V. talk show.

  Gabe gazed up at all of them, understanding that he was about to mar the idol that his family gave him the credit of being. His sister Joy stood stone faced next to her husband Jimbo, who was digging at something too deep in his ear to reach. Christopher’s chewing had slowed as he became more engrossed in the story playing out before his eyes. His wife gawked from over his shoulder, perhaps too frightened to get any closer. His parents were huddled together, their respective faces charred with concern. Then, his eyes found Corey below him, standing there waiting. No more lies. No more.

  “I’m Gabe.” Instinctively, he turned his head. He didn’t want to see Corey’s reaction. He didn’t want to remember him that way.

  Corey felt numb. As though his nerves had frozen under his skin. He couldn’t believe this was happening. All the things Chris- Gabe had said to him over the past months had been a series of lies. All lies. And for what? To disgrace him? To mock him? No, it was all to elaborate. Why would Gabe risk all he had just to defile Corey. Most certainly, the only one bearing any shame now was him. Did he ever even like him? Had it been a joke?

  Rachel turned her attention to Corey, “He’s been with both of us at the same time. All of these months he’s been playing us like a game of cards,” she explained disgustedly.

  Mary Cavanaugh’s mouth dropped open. Martin Cavanaugh’s eyes widened. They were both stricken with paralyzing shock. Had either one of them had a bad heart, this would have surely killed them. The last bite of bread fell from Christopher Cavanaugh’s mouth. God forbid anyone sneeze, it would have knocked him over completely. His wife couldn’t have caught him, for she was too busy clutching her chest, trying to control the arrhythmia she just acquired. Joy Cavanaugh threw her hand over her mouth, stupefied. Beside her, Jimbo curled his top lip up in absolute repulsion. His forehead wrinkled and the top of his bald skull began to look like a mountainous valley of blonde stubble.

  Corey didn’t know what to do with himself. His left hand came up to his pillow lips, then just above his brow, and finally over his ear, tucking his hair behind it. “Oh my God...” He whispered aghast.

  Gabe went to touch him, “I’m so sorry,” he said sincerely.

  Corey withdrew from his hand, looking at him as if he must be crazy. Unwittingly, his stare rested upon Angie, who had taken stealthy steps down the staircase, gradually making her way to them. Now she stood directly behind Gabe.

  “You knew?” Corey growled. For some reason, this conclusion had the the most impact. It was excruciating to think that his best friend would do this to him.

  Angie nodded sadly.

  Rachel closed her eyes, the second of darkness, privacy, soothed her combustible temper. When she opened them, she felt only slightly more subdued.

  “You were my best friend. How could you know something like this and not tell me? Did you know all along?” She asked, ready to break down in tears.

  Angie wiped her bloodshot eyes, “I found out after the Graduation dance. I wanted to tell you, but-“

  “But what? What could possibly have kept you from telling me? Do you know what I did with him? I had sex with him, Angie.”

  Behind them, Gabe’s mother sucked her lower lip into her mouth, releasing a loud whimper before burying her face in her husband’s shoulder. Martin cradled her gently, “It’s a forgivable sin, dear. It a forgivable sin.” He consoled.

  Rachel continued, “I gave him a part of me. Something I can’t take back. How could you have let this go on?” Rachel may have been able to inhibit her pain from showing, but the tears that had collected in the corners of her eyes couldn’t hold back any more, and like a flood, they sped down her face. Her mascara had smeared under her bottom lashes.

  Angie pushed Gabe aside so that she could stand one step above Rachel. She knew this was going to happen, she expected it even, but nothing could have prepared her for it. Angie wept aloud as she did her best to explain herself. “I’m sorry Rachel. I know I should have told you. I know I was wrong. I was just afraid that if I told you, Gabe would tell Corey how I felt. I didn’t want to ruin my friendship with him because of me. Gabe threatened to tell him. He said it would look like I was demolishing Corey’s happiness because I was jealous. I didn’t want to do that. Gabe said they were in love.”

  Mary Cavanaugh wailed harder.

  “You did it because you were weak,” Rachel lashed out. Her little infatuation with Corey was not enough to justify her secret. Not when they were dealing with real life issues. “It’s no wonder you never had any friends, Angie. You’re only interested in what benefits you. When it comes right down to it, you think you’re the only one who matters.”

  “That’s not true!” Angie objected pleadingly.

  Corey felt a headache trying to generate. He sighed heavily and backed away the stairs, stopping in the middle of the foyer between the members of Gabe’s family. The audience. “You’re in love with me?”

  At first she said nothing, she felt sick to her stomach. Her chin quivered. “Yes.”

  Corey wiped the beading sweat from his hairline. It was hot in this house. He was sure it was from everyone crowded into one small room. He pulled his hair back and held it there with his hands. “Let me get this right. You’re in love with me. But you know I’m with someone who I obvious like to some degree. And you know for a fact that he’s with my other best friend. Basically deceiving both of us. So, you help him pull off this fabrication to deceive us, and all because you’re worried about how I’ll react to your liking me? Excuse me for being cynical, but isn’t that like worrying about watering your flowers when the house next door in on fire? You have the ability, the duty as my friend to extinguish the fire. Instead you tend to your flowers. You’ll let me suffer because it was inconvenient for you.” Corey muffled a laughter of contempt, “I was once worried about you having a low self-esteem. Now I see that you must be the most self-centered person I know. Next to him.” He gestured toward Gabe.

  His ridicule stunned her. He had never been cross with her before. How could he just forget all the times when she had exalted their friendship. When she had been there when he needed her. She knew she deserved to be punished for being a traitor, but did that automatically veto everything good she had done?

  Gabe took the final step downward, directly in front of Rachel. They probed one another intensely, both immersed in a sea of memories, when they would hold each other, kiss each other. Those Sunday walks when they were the only two people on Earth and nothing could touch them because nothing else mattered but them. Seven years of togetherness. Sev
en years of trust and loyalty, totally obliterated. Their virginity, sacrificed to one another, her offering of love, his of confusion.

  “Are you gay?” Rachel asked candidly, her fragility becoming more evident in her inconsistent expressions. Full of heartbreak.

  “No!” Gabe quickly denied.

  “Well, you could’ve fooled me,” Corey spurned.

  “I mean... I don’t know,” Gabe added.

  Corey shook his head in disbelief. This was such a joke. He had no place here. He started toward the front door, “This is senseless. I’m leaving.” He announced.

  Gabe raced him to the door, beating him to it, blocking his path. “You’re not leaving. You have to hear me out. Please Corey. Don’t just walk away.”

  Corey, well reserved prior to this, was angered by Gabe’s expressed boldness. “I’ve heard what you have to say. I’ve heard the whole thing. It’s over. It’s finished. You got caught. I don’t care why you did it. I don’t care about the specifics.” He looked out toward the door, he was just inches from escape. “I don’t care about you. Now if you’ll all excuse me, I have someone waiting for me. Get out of my way...”

  “Just listen to me. I care about you. I never meant to hurt you, okay? I did a stupid thing. I lied. I saw you through the telescope that night and you were crying, and I just wanted to know you were okay. I never intended to fall for you.” Gabe forced words, any words that made sense, anything that might him sound less criminal from his throat, not realizing he was digging himself deeper.

  “Telescope?” Corey replied curiously.

  Rachel closed her eyes; her head fell back against the wall in disbelief. “He’s got a telescope in his bedroom.” She started up the steps.

  Corey turned and followed her, as Gabe and Angie lagged behind. As they tore down the hallway, Gabe furiously fought to redeem himself.

  “It’s not what you think, Corey, I swear.”

  They charged into Gabe’s room, Rachel leading the way. Corey saw the telescope sitting there, just above the window sill.

  He stopped cold upon the sight, then slowly moved to it, kneeling. He peered through the eyepiece and found himself staring into his own bedroom. Unsettled by his findings, he stood erect, he held his breath, this muscles tensed. He had been watching him... all along. He turned sharply and began to run from the room.

  Gabe grabbed hold of his arm in the doorway and tried to hold him back. “Corey, wait. I’m sorry!”

  “Get off of me you sick fuck!” Corey screamed as he broke free of him and flew down the hall. Again, everyone followed him. Chasing him down the steps, across the foyer where everyone stood confounded. Corey threw open the front door and stomped off the porch. He saw Thomas waiting for him, perched on the curb. He heard the voices of everyone behind him, but his only concern was getting to Thomas.

  Thomas heard the commotion and rose to his feet and turned to see Corey hurrying across the yard as Gabe, Rachel and Angie pursued. The sudden disturbance aroused him, even moreso when he saw Corey’s face. “Corey, what’s wrong?”

  “Just- I wanna go home!” Corey asserted sternly, walking fast.

  Gabe rushed up behind him, grabbing his arm again, spinning him around to face him. “Wait a second. I need you to know that I didn’t do this to hurt you. It all happened by accident. I never should have lied to you about who I was. I never thought it would happen this way. I didn’t think it was possible for me to fall for you like this. But I did.”

  “What do you want from me?” Corey asked shaken, “I don’t know you.” He pushed Gabe away, feeling dirty just having him occupy his space.

  Rachel took her position next to Thomas. To see Gabe scurry to vindicate himself to Corey somehow made it all more concrete. Until now, it seemed to surreal, and though she knew it was true, a part of her refused to believe he would actually show his admiration for Corey in front of her. It defiled everything they once were, and the blatant disrespect pissed her off even more. Why was he floundering around like a fish out of water to please Corey? Shouldn’t it had been her he was the first he attended to? Certainly, if nothing else, she had a lot more invested, and subsequently, a lot more lost. Corey was just a summer fling. They had a childhood, thousands of mutual memories.

  Rachel felt her chest tighten. She had to ask. She had a right to know. “Did you have sex with Corey?”

  Gabe turned to her, “No! I never did anything with him!”

  Rachel looked at Corey for validation.

  Corey rolled his eyes, “I said no.”

  Rachel slouched, her head falling forward in disbelief. Then she shot up again, standing erect, this time she was looking at Thomas. “You’re Thomas aren’t you?”

  Thomas flinched from the sudden attention and modestly nodded.

  Gabe stepped forward angrily, “He has nothing to do with this.

  Rachel moved toward Thomas calmly. “Are you in love with Corey?”

  Thomas was taken aback by her fixation with him. He was unsure of his locality in this fog of pandemonium. The forcible manner in which she addressed him gave him more than ample reason to answer without issue. Plus, it was true, and he would never hide it again. “Yes.”

  Rachel now spun to Angie, “And I know you supposedly love him.”

  Then she closed in on Gabe. She made a face, closing her eyes hard. She twisted around, calling into the night as loud as she could-

  “AM I THE ONLY ONE ALIVE WHO’S NOT IN LOVE WITH COREY???”

  Gabe lunged toward Thomas like a rabid dog, “You don’t love him! You’re a fuck-up. You don’t even belong here!” He began pushing Thomas hard, asking for a fight, provoking him.

  Corey stepped between them, returning Gabe’s hefty push, “STOP!”

  Thomas remained calm, “I don’t give shit what you think of me, Gabe. I learned a long time ago that people like you were the ones to watch out for. The so-called ‘good boys’. You just can’t stand knowing that you’re not better than me. You can call me anything you want. You can tell people that I’m a loser and a addict. It makes no difference. I take pride in the fact that I’m not like you. I didn’t have the entire world handed to me on a silver platter. I took no liberties in anything. I know who I am. I know where I came from and I know where I’m going. You think you know it all. You want to have your cake and eat it to. You think you’re superior to everyone else, and you’re nothing more than a scared little boy who’s been ripped off his throne and forced to look at the life from the underside of things.”

  Rachel put her hands over her face. She had now been fully degraded, yet, at the same time, she had separated herself enough from Gabe over the last few months, that it didn’t abolish her the way she thought it would. It was almost a little satirical. She had always been a good girl. She plans on marrying her first boyfriend, the son of a preacher man. Then, he cheats on her with another man, who happens to be her best friend. She could’ve laughed out loud. What a story this would make. Her grandchildren should get a kick out of this one. She could hear it all now. A bit of scandal to satisfy the youngsters. At least it makes for an interesting history. She could use this as an icebreaker for future potential boyfriends. It sounded hysterical as it crossed her mind- “Hi. My name’s Rachel. I think you’re cute. Are you gay?”

  As Rachel removed her hands, she could not help but smile. “I can’t believe this.” She smirked as she held up her arms surrendering, “This is just way too much. As far as I’m concerned Gabe, you’ve taught me well. I’ve learned my lesson. Now I’m going home.” She announced as she moved past them.

  Gabe stepped in front of her, not allowing her to leave. “You’re not leaving yet. You have to understand why-“

  Rachel slapped his arm away from her. Now she was irate. “Don’t tell me what to do! Who do you think you are? I’m not you God Damn little rag doll anymore, Gabe. You can’t just toss out demands and expect the world to fall at your feet. I may have been like that before, but n
ot anymore. You’re nobody. Got that? Nobody. You fuck people around and then expect them to praise you for a job well done. This is your first dose of reality, and I’m proud to be the first person to shove it down your throat.” She leered at Angie through accosting eyes, “I was good to both of you. I would have never done this to either of you. But you guys have betrayed me in one of the worst ways possible. You two deserve each other.” She was quiet for a moment. She watched Angie weep, and Gabe, fearing her next sentence, stood like a man in front of a firing squad. He had good reason to. “I hate you both.”

  She twisted on the balls of her feet and slowly began away. Gabe took a few shallow breaths as her words bore through him like bullets from a twelve gauge shot gun. It took a few moments before he realized he had eventually stopped breathing completely. Then, with his fury rising, he screamed at her. “How can you walk away so easily, Huh? You never cared about me to begin with. You never loved me, you loved the security I gave you!” He howled in detest, not of her, but of her ability to say the things she had.

  Rachel stopped. It was like being stabbed in the back with a different knife in the same wound. She twisted around and came raging back up to him. “How could you say I never loved you!?” She cried as she pushed him hard, then slapped aimlessly at his chest. Gabe tried to hold her off, but she was stronger than he suspected. Finally she stopped. She trembled without realizing it. She had come unhinged. The part of her that she so desperately tried to dismiss, the part that still loved him, despite her trying to convince herself otherwise, had consumed her. She stared at him unscrupulously, her lips tight, eyes fixed, nostrils flaring from the uncontrolled breaths she forced outward. “I did everything for you. Don’t you dare try to make this my fault. I take back what I said before. I don’t hate you. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life hating you.”

  Angie took a brave step forward to speak, “Rachel, please just-“

  Rachel didn’t let her finish. She held her hand, “Don’t. Don’t.” She commanded in a foreboding tone, low and barely contained. She looked back to Gabe, “I am going to leave this place knowing that I am the better person. More human than you will ever be. For years I held you on a pedestal-“

  Gabe tried to argue, “I never wanted you to hold me on a-“

  “And I was wrong. I know that. I did a lot of things. I screwed myself over long before you did. But whether you know it or not, I don’t need you to be happy. I have a real life waiting for me, and I guarantee you that I will be happy... happier, knowing that I left you behind. You lost this game, Gabe. You lost me. Come hell or high water, you’ll learn that on the field of life there are no second chances. There will be no time out. No re-plays. You hurt people. You knew what you were doing. You’ve shown me that you don’t know how to love. You don’t even know what it is. For that I feel sorry for you. But everything you get, you deserve. You have to live with who you are and what you’ve done. Maybe someday you’ll be intelligent enough to figure them out. I hope you do. Then you’ll understand why this is Game over.” With that, Rachel, now a pillar of might, strolled away with pride. She didn’t bother looking back. She knew it was a needless act. In retrospect, she saw how all the little instances played into the big picture. The fight over Corey’s book at the library. Why Gabe so amorously refused to meet him. The mascot hood he wore at graduation during his speech. The expanding distance between them. His questionable absences during the dances at school. The Fourth of July episode. His eagerness to run to Corey’s aid, with Corey in the ambulance when he ignored her screams. His phobia of confronting her to explain why. Angie’s reluctant interaction. Afraid she would give it all away. Amazing how the smallest details can be graphic symptoms of a more perilous underlying condition. Maybe, to some degree, she knew. She just didn’t want to even ponder the possibilities. It was simply too much to accept. It would have required to much energy. It would have made her suspicious, jealous, and preoccupied with wonderments. Even when she found out, it hit her with the explosive power of a cruise missile. But, to her credit, she didn’t deny it. She defeated it. Now she understood why her mother stayed with her father, turning a blind eye to the atrocities that occurred under her very nose. It wasn’t the security. It wasn’t fear of abandonment. It was the attempt at fitting into his world. Pretending he loved her, and her only. When you want someone so badly to love you, and they don’t, it coerces you into taking an inward glance. You pick yourself to shreds trying to find the one little flaw that will tell you why. Rachel remembered doing just that when Gabe blew up at her last summer. Looking inside herself for the reason when really it had nothing to do with her. She was just the fall guy. It’s all about feeling authentic. Did Rachel feel authentic now? Yes. Did she need anyone else to make her own ideas valid? No. She was alone, and she like it that way. She didn’t need anyone to prove her own worth. She was her own proof. She took a stand, refused to be undermined, and never backed down. Not this time. Never again. Oh, how it freeing that was. Just to speak without cowering back. To scream and know it was justified. She hit him... even that felt great. For once she knew that she would be all right, and didn’t require anyone outside herself to convince her of that. She was her own. No contending with another’s worries. She could make her own way, and in the end, have only herself to thank. No finer reward than that of self-respect. Tonight she had walked away with just that. And the smile on her face testified so.

  They watched her until she was just a speck against the shadows, until her figure could no longer be detected.

  Thomas took Corey’s hand, “Come on. Let’s go,” he said, feeling as though he were at the scene of a car wreck and gawking at the fatalities. They began walking off the road toward the sidewalk that led up to Corey’s house. Angie couldn’t say anything else. She couldn’t beg, couldn’t find any reason for any of them to stay. She had sacrificed her two best friends. She made some bad choices and they backfired. So, she was back to square one. She had come full circle. She was all alone, left only with a dark, incessant void. It was a familiar echo in her soul. She didn’t recall it aching so badly before. The emptiness inside spread like a disease, draining her. For a short while, she had pulled from the oblivion she was in to the nurturing light of the sun. She had the best times of her life there. And then, suddenly, everyone was gone. Blackness had invaded her once again. It was the knowing of how it felt to be someone worthwhile that made the reappearance of the nothingness all the more painful. Her punishment was to be driven back where she came from. Exiled from those she loved forever. And it was all her fault. That understanding brought the worst agony. “Why? Why didn’t I tell them?” Angie whispered to herself as Corey and Thomas vanished behind the door. “I fought so hard to keep everything right. I tried so hard,” she sobbed, putting her hands over her face.

  Gabe noticed the small sounds around him. They seemed louder than before. The wind had died. The fog had begun to lift. Soon all the nighttime creatures would sink into their dampened habitats and sleep the away the impending day, waiting for the fall of dusk. He imagined this day for so long. He knew it was coming. It would have been impossible to run from it. It was over. Rachel was gone. Corey was gone. It seemed strange that he found a certain solace in the finalization. He didn’t feel so crowded inside. Although so much had slipped like sand through his fingers in the matter of hours, he was relieved it was now just a part of the past. Perhaps he was glad to be caught. Both Corey and Rachel were given their reprisal. They said what they had to say. Gabe had no exoneration, no excuse that rated forgiveness. He was paying his penitence. Never did he harbor such remorse in his life. Never had he lost so many that mattered so much... in one night. All because of a telephone call five months ago. A curiosity that transformed into an obsession. He just wanted them to love him. He fought long and hard to keep them, and he lost.

  Rachel was right; he had gotten what he deserved. Nothing. Something he had heard not so long ago drifted through the epicenter of his brain,
slowly becoming clearer. What was it Sophie had said to him beneath the table? He repeated it aloud, so Angie could hear. “If you love yourself, then you’ve won the battle. But if you’re fighting for others to love you, then you’ve lost the war.”

  Angie looked at him through blurry eyes. “What?”

  “She was right. It was like that I knew what I was doing. I knew it was wrong. I was asking for it. It was destructive. I knew I would lose them in the end... there was never any question about it. I knew I was hurting them and myself, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care.” He muttered softly. “It all makes sense now. I knew it was a stupid thing to do, and yet I fought to make them love me. You know why?”

  Angie gave him a queer glance, “No. I don’t. I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  Gabe took a large step toward her. “Why do people do something that they know is going to hurt them in the end? Why do they continue pursuing things that leave people torn apart?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I was so busy trying to win over Corey and Rachel; I wanted them to love me. The entire time I was just destroying myself. It wasn’t about wanting to hurt them, it was about hurting myself. I did this to myself. I knew what I was doing and I kept on doing because I knew that in the end I would lose it all. Understand?” Gabe raved passionately as he grabbed her elbows excitedly.

  Angie recoiled, responding with nothing but slow facial distortions, accurately relaying her misgivings. It was bound to happen sooner or later. He’d flipped. With her shoulders lifted upward, her limbs stiff as a board in his grasp, she answered, “No. I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

  “I’ve been fighting my entire life to win the affection of other people. For as long as I can remember I lived for other people. I’ve tried to please my family, being everything I was expected to be. I’ve struggled to please complete strangers. People I don’t even know want me to be their leader, they cheer for me in the stands and they count on me to be something fantastic. I have no obligation to these people and yet I strive to meet their demands. I’ve lived fighting to win the love of others, hoping that I’m worthy of it.” He released her along with a hopeless sigh. His hands fell to his sides, his head down. He was a fallen hero. A failure.

  Angie found the same stance. They didn’t speak for a while, and the vacancy of the air scolded them. Shame, regret. The dawn of so many emotions, all stirred together in a toxic awakening. “I understand what you’re telling me, Gabe.” She mumbled desolately. Her once chirpy voice now ridden with contrition, “You’ve had a lot to live up to. I used to watch you from afar, walking through the hallways at school, surrounded by your football friends and the popular girls. I envied you so much. I wanted that, I wanted to be a part of that. It was the perfect life. I thought you were invincible. I can see that I was wrong. I know how it feels to fight. That’s all I’ve done for the last seventeen years. Fighting to be accepted, or at least acceptable. No matter what I did, or how hard I tried, no one cared. That’s all I wanted. Someone to care. Someone to notice me. To everyone around me I was transparent. I was nothing. That’s what they treated me like. A nothing. I started to believe it to. I actually let myself become what everyone else believed I was. A waste of space. They threw things at me in the lunchroom. Laughed at me on the street. Called me names. I was a joke to them. To you.”

  Gabe turned to her apologetically, “You were never a joke to-“

  She quickly interjected, “Yes I was. Don’t tell me I wasn’t because there were many times you walked right past me shared a chuckle with your buddies. You pulled my skirt down in third grade so everyone could see the fat girls’ underwear, just so you could be cool. For years you and people like you have taunted me, made me the underdog. Eventually, I started to consider myself that. I was supposed to fill that role. It was destiny, right? My good fortune. Everyone has their calling. Mine was to be your amusement. That’s why I never talked back. I never defended myself or challenged your actions. Inside I felt I deserved it. It was who I was and forever would be.”

  Listening to her, being able to recall every instance she spoke of, made him writhe with remorse. There was never a reason for the things he had done to her, and that strangled him with condemnation. He was the culprit. The main instigator of all her grief. Again, he could offer no atonement. “I never meant to. I mean, I didn’t-“ He pressed himself to find something within that would give her peace. “I’m sorry.”

  Angie straightened her back, standing erect. Somehow, she obtained a subtle grin. “No, you’re not.” She informed benevolently, as though she had exchanged the anger she rightfully owned, for a more amiable approach. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I’m not trying to lay a big guilt trip on you. I’m just trying to make a point. I allowed myself to become your prey. I took on the pretense of a victim. It’s just like you allowing yourself to take on the expectations of everyone else. It just fall into your lap. Now, here we are. You, the golden boy who’s finally seen that, sometimes you have to consider yourself before everyone else. If you had done that to begin with, you wouldn’t have been so desperate to be loved by two people at the same time.” She tossed back her head as the covetous breeze grazed her face, like warm hands touching her. “Then there’s me, the invisible girl. I’ve found that I’ve spent too much time getting down on my hands and knees just so everyone around me can feel taller. Neither one of us were impressing anyone and in the end, we both lost. We developed these instincts that told us to struggle, even when we didn’t have to. Corey and Rachel never placed expectations on you. You did. You had to such a jumbled view of things that, despite everything else, you had to make them love you. You just never paused long enough to see the damage you were doing. You became blind to it. In some sense it appears very cruel, insensitive and arrogant, but that’s not what you are. Most would think I am just as irrational as you for not crucifying you for all you’ve done, but we have a lot more in common than I ever imagined. We’re pathetic. We’re a couple of screwed up kids who’ve had our concept of life scrambled by feelings of inadequacy. We’re just looking for a place to belong. People to accept us without asking for more than we’re capable of. That’s why you lied to Corey about who you were. He gave you that, and you were afraid that if he knew the real you, he would become one of them. Your anonymity was your safety net. A way of letting the real you peek through the iron curtain that you live behind, without any strings attached. Finally there was someone who didn’t place any stipulations on you. Someone who didn’t want the superstar. You figured that if you let him down, it wouldn’t be you he blamed. It would be Chris. You could have been the best and it still wouldn’t have been enough. Not for you. You became so concerned with what being everything to everyone that you forgot the most important part of your life. You. Because of that you’ve ended up offering everyone you’ve loved as a burnt offering. So did I.” Her eyes sparkled as the moon dipped below the treetops, illuminating her gaunt features. The dark circles were like crescents beneath them. Her hands were nestled against her breasts, tucked inside her oversized, knitted sweater.

  Gabe knew exactly what she meant, and once again, Sophie’s words raided his mind. “If you love yourself, you’ve already won the battle, but if you’re fighting for others to love you, then you’ve lost the war.” And he had.

  Angie started to walk away, stopping briefly by his side in passing, “I’m glad you’re going away. We can both start over in a place where nobody knows who we are. I’m going to leave the old Angie here is Sadie. I suggest you do the same. Find out what you really want. Who you really are. Find some security in yourself. Don’t wait for someone else to give it to you.” She regarded him in a way she never thought she would. Seeing him standing before her, a frightened child, just after birth. He was scared and vulnerable to whatever this world had to endow him with. He would miss this innate fabrication that Sadie, Connecticut and her unheeding citizens had eagerly posed. This had been his wo
mb, and he grew here, nurtured by its goodness and the protection it supplied him. That had all been taken away, and starting on this night, he knew that. Angie didn’t feel sorry for him. She didn’t pity him. She just saw something in his eyes, something that had been missing before. The rein of conflict and confusion had ended. Now he was left to pick up the pieces. He had freed himself from restraint, from this simulated form of existence he had taken as his own. He was no longer the boy she had always known. Maybe she had played a role in his deliverance. Maybe he had wanted her to expose him all along. Whatever was going on inside of him, Angie was certain that Gabriel Cavanaugh, the high school hero, the community celebrity, would never be the same. The next time he stood on this black pavement, amidst this land of exquisite homes, lavishly landscaped yards, and lush green trees, he would be a changed man. He would return to this place some season in the not to distant future and revisit the events of this past summer. Perhaps then he would he see his own transformation. Now was only a moment in time, and it would pass just a fast as it came. She would always wonder what had happened to him, long after she left him here. For now though, she felt it best to let it all go. Standing here on this lone road made nothing easier. The earlier they parted, the sooner the healing could begin. With a westward glance, she continued on down the empty street, and then, like everyone else who had been there, she too was gone.

  Gabe looked toward the wraparound porch of his house. His family was still standing there watching him. They had heard it all, witnesses to his fall from grace. He started up onto the lawn and crossed it slowly, examining their faces to determine their reactions. The all seemed to have the same expression of ambiguity. As he stepped up onto the veranda, he waited for one of them to speak, or reach out and grab him, whether to hit him, or hug him. He wished they would have but no one said a word. He walked into the house, up the wooden staircase and down the hallway, closing his bedroom door behind him.

  seventeen

  Emancipation