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The group laughed and chattered as they walked through the mall, each of them carrying bags of clothing. Simon walked in the midst of the small crowd with a small smile, seemingly happy to have brought them so much joy. They wandered past an HMV store, and Evan broke away from the group.
“Hey, Mr. Lamb, are we in any kind of a rush?”
“Not at all, Evan, why do you ask?”
“Well, it’s just that I lost all my CDs on the plane. I was wondering if I could check out some of the albums in the store? I just want to see what’s come out while we were gone, and then we can get back to the limo.”
Lamb grinned. “Be my guest. Perhaps you’ll be able to explain young people’s music to an old fart like me.”
Evan smiled broadly and dashed into the store. The rest of the group followed, willing to kill some time. They spread out into different sections. Dan headed to the hip hop area, while Jason peeked through the gospel music. Genevieve wandered aimlessly, staring at the movie selection and wondering why a music store carried films. Alex and Neal argued over whose favourite rock band was better.
Evan was at the back, listening to song selections on headphones. Lamb wandered close to see what the youth was enjoying. He was startled when Evan started to sing along. His voice was clear and melodic, and had a ripple effect. First Simon stopped to listen, and then a pair of girls further down the same aisle. His voice reached Neal and Alex, and they stopped their disagreement to listen. Soon, the whole store was listening to Evan sing.
His eyes were closed, so when he stopped and hung the headphones back up, he was startled to find a store full of people staring at him.
“What? Did I fart?”
Dan burst out laughing, but Lamb ignored the comment.
“Evan, that was wonderful. I may not know a lot about music, but you have real talent. Why didn’t you tell me you were such an amazing singer?”
Evan shrugged. “Oh, I’m nothing special.”
“I beg to disagree. Do you have any other talents?”
“Well, I used to play guitar in a band with the others.”
“Why do you say ‘used to?’ When did you stop?” Lamb asked.
“Well, I didn’t stop, exactly. I lost my guitar on the mountain, I guess. Kind of hard to play without one.”
“I think we’re going to have to go instrument shopping, then.” Simon smiled, clapping an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “You say the others play as well?”
“Sure. Dan loves the drums, Alex plays guitar too. Owen is great on bass.”
Genevieve turned to Jason while their host discussed music with Evan. She whispered quietly.
“I think he’s lying. Mr. Lamb has to know something about music. He owns part of two major record labels, alongside his production company and oil shares.”
“Eve, knowing music and owning a company are two very different things.” Jason looked at their friends. “Besides, he’s trying to be nice. I know Evan misses his music.”
“But why exactly does he have to buy all this stuff for us? It’s not like we’re family.”
“No, but he doesn’t have a family of his own, either. Can’t he just be a rich, lonely guy who wants to help a bunch of kids who are stranded far from home? We’re lucky to be alive, why look a gift horse in the mouth?”
“Seriously, who even says stuff like that anymore? ‘Gift horse.’ This isn’t Trojan, or anything.” Genevieve glared at her friend.
“Troy. At least you got it half right. I didn’t think you were paying attention in history class last year.”
“You’re one to talk,” Eve laughed, swatting his arm. “You slept through it!”
Lamb took them into the city in a limousine. Borrowed bathrobes were fine for an attention-grabbing impromptu television conference, but the group would need clothes. He dressed them into whatever he could find in his closets that would fit. His shirts and pants were in some cases a little baggy, but the only real problem was the bulky Daniel. He had to make do with an unbuttoned shirt and a tropical sarong wrapped around his waist, covering his desert-stained boxers.
“Anybody laughs, anybody, and I will personally throw you off a building,” he glared at his friends as they got into the car.
By the time they arrived at Vancouver’s Westfield Mall, Dan had recovered some of his confidence. He actually walked down the mall corridors flirting and grinning at young women as if he wore the sarong every day.
“I don’t know how he does that,” Jason whispered. Evan overheard him.
“You should see him at school. He walks down the hall to the bathroom wearing just a towel. Dan believes his pecs are God’s gift to women.”
“I didn’t know God was that mean,” Genevieve observed. This set the trio to giggling, but luckily Dan didn’t overhear them.
Lamb encouraged them to shop, telling them they could pick out anything they liked. His one proviso was that they show him what they wanted to wear. He picked a store, and the young men headed out. Dan and Alex let out semi-loud cheers of enthusiasm, revelling in Lamb’s generosity.
Genevieve looked around for Ethan before heading into the women’s section of the store. He seemed to have vanished into the clothing racks before she could get his attention. She hadn’t had much opportunity yet to speak with him, and she wondered if he was feeling any better since his spell of unconsciousness on the mountain.
She took her time deciding on what to buy. For one thing, there was so much selection. Bright colours abounded for spring and summer. For another, Eve was not entirely comfortable with Lamb’s generosity. What was motivating him?
Genevieve selected a few light dresses, a pair of jeans and a few tops. She made her way through the underwear selection, getting what she needed quickly before heading back to where she’d seen Lamb last, near the men’s clothing.
“Genevieve! Pssst, hey, Eve, does this look stupid?”
She turned to see who was trying to get her attention. Alexander was trying on a grotesquely coloured shiny shirt, which she guessed was someone’s idea of nightclub attire. The designer was likely on drugs or thought clients were stupid, she thought.
“Alex, no! Try something like this,” she grabbed a few t-shirts and some collared shirts with short sleeves. Her selections were much less garish. “I thought you had more sense than that.”
Alex grinned as she helped him tug the shirt over his arms. “Maybe it was just my way of getting your attention.”
She blushed. “And why would you want to do that?”
“I don’t know, maybe because…” Whatever his reason, Genevieve didn’t get to hear it. Neal called out to the two of them from the next aisle, interrupting Alexander’s words.
“Hey, you two, have you seen Owen come by here? He swiped my pants while I was looking at this pair of jeans in the mirror.”
Genevieve and Alex walked over to find Neal was wearing a pair of pants that were in a zebra pattern. Alex tried to hide his laughter behind his hand, but Eve couldn’t help but giggle into his shoulder.
“He dared me to! It’s not like I intended to buy them. But until I get the ones Mr. Lamb bought me back, I’m stuck wearing these!” Neal turned red.
“Dude, just get into a change-room. I will find you a pair of jeans or something,” Alexander said. “Eve, see if you can find Owen. Torture him if you have to.”
Genevieve turned to look for their friends, laughing all the way.
As he crested the top of the hill in front of him, Ethan detected an unmistakable odour. It was the stench of warm rotten eggs. It’s like that sulphur spring, when we went out west. The one in Banff, he thought to himself. He saw that he was right when he got to the other side. Below him, nestled against the side of the hill, was a wide pool of steaming water, a natural hot tub.
Ethan approached slowly, for he saw that he could not be alone. There was an ornate stone table with two chairs beside the pool, laden with platters of rich meats, fruit, bread and jugs of liquid. He couldn’t tell whether it was juice, water or wine from this distance, but the sight of it made his throat remember how thirsty it was. His canteen was nearly empty and it had been a long night.
He drew one of the sticks off his back, holding it like a sword or cudgel, just in case. Someone else was out here, evidenced by the table and food, and he didn’t yet know if they were friend or foe. After all, I had warned him to be careful. It was food, and he was hungry, but he didn’t know where it had come from. Granted, the food he received while he slept came from an unknown benefactor, but it had never come in such a lavish form. It was unexpected, and that had his nerves on edge, every sense searching his surroundings for the owner of the table.
“There’s no need for weapons, is there, Ethan?” A voice said from behind him, sultry and feminine.
Ethan whirled, surprised that he had detected nothing until the voice had spoken. He could spot scorpions in the sand a hundred metres away from him, hear the scuttling of their feet, yet the lady who had spoken was a bare ten feet away and he had heard nothing.
He gazed long at the vision before him, gauging whether she was a threat or not. I had warned him, after all, and he took an archangel’s word seriously, apparently, for he did not yet lower his stick. She stood and patiently endured his scrutiny. She actually seemed to enjoy the attention, resting one hand on her hip and using the other to push her long hair back over her shoulders, making sure that Ethan got a good look.
She was beautiful, with long blond hair spilling to her waist, hair the white-blond colour that is usually only found on the heads of small children, for most people darken to deeper golds and honey-browns as they age. She was curvaceous, with the classic hourglass figure, yet slender at the same time, and she possessed a winning, seductive smile. Dressed in a long gown of deep scarlet, one that bared her shoulders, she was truly a vision of beauty, possessed of many charming qualities.
None of which phased Ethan in the slightest, apparently. He stood with his head cocked to one side, appraising her. It was a stance that could have been mistaken for gawking admiration, but Ethan Pitney had never stood like that in his life. No, this was Ethan Pitney’s calculating, considering stare, one that searched a person’s stance and body language for signs of their character and mood.
Ethan had developed this skill unconsciously in grade school as a defence mechanism: a boy who was going to taunt or strike Ethan gave off signals beforehand, and if Ethan could see it coming, he could avoid it. The talent had crossed over into daily usage, because it made him an excellent judge of character and an instinctive translator of body language. He never had to think about it, he just suddenly found himself knowing things about people before he even spoke to them for the first time. It was part of the gift that allowed him to recognize the people who would change his life even before they were his friends.
He was using it now to appraise the woman before him, though she perceived his stare as appreciation. She smiled coquettishly.
“Can’t we be friends?” Her smile was coy and warm as she pointed at the stick still in his hand.
Ethan slowly put the stick back in the loop on his back beside its mate, and then rested his hands on his hips.
“Who are you?” He asked, direct and to the point.
“What, no ‘hello’, no ‘how do you do?’ I brought food, and water, and wine, and you reward me with questions and hostility? Ethan Keaton Pitney, I thought that you’d been raised better than that.” She spoke in a tone that was mockingly scolding, as if she was trying more to make him smile than deliver an admonishment.
It worked, for he put his hands down and let his head hang, releasing the tension in his neck. He had been holding it at attention, each of his senses on full-alert. He had been searching for signs of a trap. Now his guard was down, despite my warnings, because he thought she was offended. Ethan had always hated to hurt people’s feelings.
“Forgive me, lady. I was recently warned that I should be wary of those I meet, for there are supposed to be enemies about.”
“Well, that’s understandable. I take no offence.” She said generously, “Your quest is very important, you should be careful who you place your faith in.”
He nodded, glad that she was not offended.
“Come, sit at my table and rest. You must be weary.” She gestured gracefully. “Then we may talk at our leisure.”
Ethan dutifully obeyed, moving to the indicated stone chair. He stood by it and waited politely for her to sit first. Instead, she moved to his side, moving with the fluid grace reserved for women and perhaps cats. She placed gentle hands on his shoulders, sitting him as if he were a lord come to feast, and smiled warmly.
“You are my guest, good sir, let me wait upon you.” She said in her honey-rich voice. The lady poured a glass of red wine into his golden flagon, and then selected various meats and several fruits for his golden plate. Only after his dish was full did she move to seat herself at the other end of the table, settling into the chair with a flowing motion that set off her curves.
Ethan looked at the food on his plate, his stomach growling. There was a luscious cut of roast beef the way his father had always made it, with the pink still in the middle the way his sisters had liked it; and strawberries, and red apples, and cherries. There were even raspberries; rich red ones, his favourite. He looked at the wine in his cup, and then at the lady.
“You still haven’t told me your name.” He said.
“I am Astarte,” she said, “But you may call me Star, if you like. All my friends do.”
Ethan felt a sudden jolt run through him at her words. Star had been his private name for Hope, inspired by a hymn at church that compared hope to a star, shining in the night. That this gorgeous creature before him was called the same could not be a coincidence.
“Come,” she said, “Let us make a toast.” She raised her goblet high. “To journeys, and the friends that come along.”
Another sudden shock raced through Ethan’s nerves, as her words echoed the sentiments of the poem he had written for Hope once upon a time, in what seemed now almost another life. Ethan could feel the powerful forces that had guided him throughout his life converging again, and it was a force he had never been able to deny. Whenever he had felt this energy gather in the past, he had been swept away. Something of tremendous importance was about to happen, though he knew not what. He offered a silent prayer to God, hoping for the strength to see things through.
To be polite, Ethan raised his glass. When Astarte drank, he let the rich liquid within his goblet touch his lips, but no more. For one thing, though he disliked alcohol in all its forms, he hated wine, ever since having tried it as a child on New Year’s Eve. For another, Ethan knew exactly what Astarte was trying to do. He was going to let her play her little game a little longer, to see if she revealed herself, but he knew that this was not the person I had wanted him to meet.
In part, it was because I had warned him. But it was more because he was a good English student in high school.
Ethan smiled to himself as he walked and reflected on that summer. His paranoia and depression might have won that battle, destroyed his chance for happiness in his relationship with Faith, but it was losing the war. He had withdrawn after that seemingly crippling blow, and had been quiet and sombre when he reached his university, but he wasn’t beaten. He was healing, and eventually recognized that Faith had been right.
So long as he looked to someone else to make him happy, to give him purpose and define who he was, he wasn’t really himself. He was merely a smaller part of someone else. Ethan had to be himself for his own sake, or it didn’t count. She taught him that. It had been a hard lesson to learn, and he was sure that it had been just as hard on her to have to teach it, but it was the one weapon he needed to begin fighting back against the darkness in his mind. He had set his sights on believing in himself, and his indomitable will, which refused to give up on him even during the worst of times, meant that he could do it if he tried hard enough.
That’s why he couldn’t mourn losing her, because breaking up with him had quite possibly been the best thing anyone ever did for him. He had been living in a prison for years, a prison of fear and doubt and self-hatred, and she had given him what could quite possibly be the key to freedom.
That was why Ethan was so happy despite being stranded in the middle of an endless wasteland, because here he was free of his fears and doubts. For the first time in his life since he had begun school, his mind was free of those paranoid voices, those dark demons of his soul. He wanted to thank Faith for that.
He had the strangest feeling that, somewhere on this journey, he was going to be able to.
***
I sat casually on a boulder and waited for Ethan to arrive. I could see him, a figure on the horizon trotting along, and I suspected that he could see me. His senses had been sharpening as he journeyed, and his body had been strengthening. His training was going very well.
Ethan was jogging now, headed directly for my boulder seat. If I had wondered whether he had seen me before, I knew it now. He covered the last hundred metres between us quickly, at a pace that would have had him breathing hard once upon a time. Now, he looked ready to go another thousand miles before needing to rest.
“Greetings, Ethan.” I said warmly.
“Greetings, Archangel.” He said, smiling through his thick beard wryly. Ethan’s smile had always pulled a little to the left when he was thinking, and it did so now. I wondered if he was amused by something.
“Why do you smile so, pilgrim?” I asked.
“Like what?” He said, the smile curving even further left. Yes, he was laughing inwardly about something.
“You only smile like that when you’re amused, Ethan. I should know, I’ve been watching you your whole life.”
He laughed. “I suspected that, sooner or later, you’d show up again, and I was right. I never understand my intuitions, but they always make me smile when they prove true.”
I nodded, understanding. “Does your intuition tell you why I’m here?”
“No, sir. But I suspect that it’s probably to tell me more about my journey.”
“An angel isn’t allowed to just stop by and say hello?” I asked jokingly.
“In my experience, sir, no.” He said in all seriousness.
“Well, unfortunately, you’re right. I wish that I did have time to make such friendly visits, but I have too many responsibilities for that. No, I’m here to tell you about the next phase of your journey.”
“Go ahead.” Ethan prompted.
“Actually, before I can, I’m supposed to find out if you’re ready to.” I said. “Are you ready to go on?”
“Of course I am.” He said. “I’ve come this far, haven’t I?”
“Yes, Ethan, but why? Why have you come this far, and why should you go on? Why are you on this quest? Surely not just because we’ve told you to?”
This question was the real reason I was out here. I had to learn if he truly believed in his quest, if he felt it as his cause in his heart and soul and mind. If he was doing it simply because it was duty, because he had been asked, he would fail. It had to be as much for himself as it was for God, his heart had to be in it, or he would never survive.
He began to speak, low and solemn, and I realized how much time he had to think out here, and how much he had grown up on the journey.
“I have had a lot of time to think, out here. I’ve finally noticed that the driving force in my life is this need to find…. Someone. I used to think I knew who it was. Who she was, rather. But now I see that I was wrong. Not about the search, just about the perceived goal. I was always looking for the right thing, just in all the wrong places.”
He looked around at the desert, still grinning.
” I want to give up this empty life as an isolated island, and join the rest of the world and be a part of the greater whole. It took being alone in a desert to make me realize that sometimes you need other people, but I learned it.
“So, that is the force driving me on my journey, that is my quest… Not just to find this cross because I’ve been told to. I’m here to find myself, and to find her, and, hopefully, to find God. I went on this journey because there was no other way to go, at first. But now, I’ll see it through because of what I hope to find at the journey’s end.”
As he finished speaking, Ethan stared directly into my eyes with his cool, icy blue gaze. He smiled again.
“Is that reason enough, Raphael? Is that what you wanted to hear? Because I’d like to get going. Say whatever you have to say, I’d like you to get it over with so I can get a move on.”
I nodded. “It’s reason enough. We had to be sure that you believed in your quest, you understand? It’s not a question of faith in you, you were chosen for a reason, but we had to be sure that you were ready. There’s too much riding on this for you to fail because you weren’t prepared.”
“I’m ready.” He said simply.
“Good. The next leg of the journey begins now. Soon, you will meet someone. Someone who will answer some of your questions, and tell you some of what comes next. But be on your guard, Ethan,” I admonished, “for the Adversary has His minions, too, and they may try to stop you, or deceive you. Be on your guard.”
He nodded, and then walked on.
During the day they sometimes worked on different sites, so they made sure that they spent the evenings together. They went for quiet walks under the summer stars, or watched movies in the local theatre, went out for ice cream in town, and talked until they were too tired to think.
Ethan found that he could talk to Faith about things in a way he couldn’t with his other friends, revealing to her that he didn’t think they knew him at all. In his need to serve the people he cared about, he had surrendered his own identity. Sometimes he himself wasn’t sure of who he was, so how could his friends know?
He allowed himself to be vulnerable for the first time in his life, slowly bringing down the walls he had built between himself and the world after years of being unable to fully trust anyone. She was patient with everything, and found ways to remind him that she wasn’t like his friends, and that he could trust her. Faith seemed to devote herself to finding subtle ways to build his confidence without expressly saying that she was doing so. Part of it was how much time she spent with him, which implied devotion and loyalty. After seeing so many friends turn their back on him, this touched Ethan deeply.
Ethan had never known someone that wanted to be so much a part of his life. He seemed to come first in all things. She would forgo trips into town with their other friends in favour of spending a quiet evening with him, and only went anywhere with the others if he suggested that they both go. It was like she never wanted to be away from him, and he found that endearing. Everyone else he knew always had other places to go, or people to be with. He had never come first with them. Not even Hope had been so devoted, and she had been his best friend.
He knew that she was helping him to fill the hole inside himself, that pit of self-loathing that said he didn’t matter. Ethan had begun to fight that battle himself in the last year of high school, and had found it a daunting task. He never gave up, but it had always been difficult. Faith made it easy, because she believed in him.
The summer drifted by without Ethan noticing, he was so caught up in his feelings. When he finally realized that they were approaching the end of the season, it hit him like a physical blow and panic set in. A powerful sense of dread overcame him, and paranoid thoughts kept surfacing. What if she decides to leave me? What if we break up because I have to go to school? Why should she stay, if no one else ever has?
He didn’t realize it until months later, but until this moment of doubt, the voices in his head had been silent. His time with Faith had brought him peace and happiness for the first time in years, and he failed to notice or appreciate it until it was gone. It was as if the instant he doubted her, he allowed a doorway in his mind to open. One that released all his worst fears and nightmares. And once the door to Hell was opened, he couldn’t get it closed again.
He withdrew from her, and she noticed. She would sit beside him, and he would almost imperceptibly flinch away. It was distressing, because Faith knew that he was shutting her out, and she wasn’t sure that he knew, himself. It was an instinctive thing for him to do that with almost everyone else. Their friend Laura had taken to calling him “Bubble Boy” because he was very sensitive about his personal space and rarely allowed people into it. Faith was the only person always welcome, because she was who he trusted most.
Now she was shut out, and she knew that it was unintentional. It was a trained reflex, one of his defence mechanisms from school, something he never thought about. She knew they were there and had aided him in taking a lot of his barriers down, but now they were all back in place, and she thought she knew why.
“This isn’t working,” She told him one night, when they could be alone together.
Ethan had felt his stomach drop and a horrifying chill grip him at those simple words. His paranoia had been growing, and to his increasingly depressed mind those words leapt out like they were on fire. His paranoia told him that she would leave, that these words meant that she was ready to, that now she would turn on him like everyone else.
“What?” He asked, fear creeping into his voice.
“You’re pulling away from me all the time, and you hardly talk to me. It’s been getting worse all week. Unless something changes, this isn’t going to work out. You’re falling apart on me, and I can’t help you unless you talk to me.”
It seemed like a white-hot knife had been thrust into Ethan’s guts and then twisted, for his fear felt almost like physical pain. Certainty came to him that things were over, and that there was no way to stop it from happening. He saw the joys of the past few months falling away from him into a chasm of darkness and despair. It was a pit that led to madness, and he was on its edge, barely hanging on by his fingertips.
“I can’t help it,” he said, the steel within him rebelling against the fear and making an attempt to salvage the situation. The only way it could see to save him was by being honest: “I’m afraid. All my friends have abandoned me, whether they know it or not, and I’m terrified that you will, too. I need you, I don’t know how to do this on my own.”
“That’s the problem. We can’t work because of that. You don’t like yourself very much. When you go to school, you’re going to hate it there unless you can learn to live with yourself, and I can’t do that for you. I can’t handle that, it’s not fair to either one of us. You have to do it yourself. It’s not like I don’t care about you, I just can’t handle things the way they are.”
He was sobbing, crying in front of someone else for the first time since he had become an adolescent. It was brought on by the conflict between that dark depression and despair that had grown out of the paranoia created during school and the ability to love that Faith had been nurturing all summer. The conflict was over now, and all he could do was mourn the side that seemed to have lost.
”I just wanted to say thanks again for inviting me, Neal.”
Neal Osborne looked over his shoulder at the girl in the backseat. “You’re welcome, Genevieve.”
He returned his eyes to the road, hands at two and ten. “Though, to be accurate, it wasn’t my idea. Alexander talked my dad into this trip. Not that I’m not glad we’re all going.”
“Because that was believable,” The red-headed young man beside Neal in the passenger seat piped up.
“I just think it’s a little presumptuous of him to ask, Owen. Eight people at once is a lot, when it’s not his cabin.” Neal steered through highway traffic while talking to his best friend.
“Alex has lived with your family since he was fourteen years old. It’s his cabin.” Owen Truman looked over his shoulder at Genevieve, “Don’t pay any attention to him.”
She smiled. “I don’t mind. I know I’m only invited because I’m Ethan’s sister. It’s not a big deal. I’ve never been to Whistler, so I’m grateful. Is it as pretty as they say?”
“Not as pretty as you,” Owen teased. “But it’s nice.”
“Owen!” Neal gave his friend an elbow while keeping his eyes on the road. “She’s Ethan’s little sister.”
He glanced at the pretty brunette in the backseat briefly, and then continued.
“Sorry, Owen lacks manners.”
“He’s not being rude. I don’t mind. I’m not that little anymore, Neal. I’m only two years younger than you are, remember?”
“So I’d shut up and try not to insult the pretty girl, comrade, unless you think being born in 1979 makes you an old man compared to the kids from the eighties.” Owen elbowed his friend back.
“Ooh, what were the seventies like? Can you tell us about them, grandpa?” Genevieve giggled. Neal blushed.
“I didn’t mean… Never mind. Shut up, Owen!”
All three of them laughed.
“Hey, can we make a pit-stop before Toronto?” Owen asked.
“What’s up?”
“Well, I need to take a leak, and besides, I promised Evan I’d hit a Subway or a Mr. Sub.”
“Late night snack before the flight? That’s a pretty good idea,” Genevieve said.
“Not exactly. I mean, I’m hungry, but Evan and I are scamming Daniel. It’s hard to explain.”
“What do you mean, ‘scamming Daniel?’ What does that have to do with sub sandwiches?” Neal asked.
“Dan’s not too quick on the uptake sometimes. Evan just plans to take advantage of that with a few well-timed bets. Never hurts to improve the odds once in awhile, and I get a cut of the proceeds.”
“That’s a great way to treat your friends!” Genevieve said, trying not to laugh.
Bonus Chapter - Different Car, Same Day
*** Author’s Note to Readers*** The following novel may contain themes of violence and occasional vulgar language. The most offensive chapters will have a warning like this one, and are rare. However, I would recommend to parents that they preview such chapters before allowing adolescents to read them, that’s just common sense.
A young man lay sprawled across a small bed that was just wide enough for one person. The bed lay in one corner of a small room with large bricks painted white, giving the room a very institutional feel. One wall of the corner, above his head, held a wall-mounted bookcase with textbooks and novels. The other wall of his corner held the only window. The room’s only further furniture was a desk and chair. A computer was on top of the desk. The dresser was crammed into the open closet to create floor space. A duffel bag lay on the floor in front of it.
The third wall of the little room was decorated with illustrations, featuring comic book and fantasy characters: mutants and elves, angels and ogres. The fourth wall had the door, which someone was currently knocking. The youth on the bed rolled over.
The knocking became pounding and he sat up.
“Ethan! Wake up! Come on, wake up!” Someone shouted through the door. He stared at it for a moment, his head cocked to one side, a strange little smile in the corner of his mouth.
He pulled on a tshirt that was draped over the chair and then pulled on jeans that had been lying in a crumpled pile on the floor. He waited at the doorway, peering into the peephole. He timed opening the door perfectly.
“Ethan! Whoooaaa!” Another young man toppled into the room, caught off balance by his next big swing. Instead of pounding the wood, he pounded himself into the carpet. Being over six feet tall and more than two hundred pounds, he hit it fairly hard.
“Dick!” He grinned, picking himself up. “Why didn’t you answer me, Ethan?”
Ethan looked at him with that same little smile. “I was dreaming.”
“Well, get your ass up!” The bigger youth grinned, punching him in the arm. “Grab your bags, we have to get moving.”
“I thought we agreed to meet at nine?”
Another young man appeared in the doorway. He had long dishevelled hair that seemed unable to make up its mind regarding its colour. It wasn’t quite blonde, nor was it quite brown.
“Dan’s a bit excited,” he said. “To put it mildly.”
“Yeah, and this fucker used my enthusiasm against me. Knocked me right onto the floor.” Dan playfully shoved Ethan, who showed no reaction in his face.
“He’s probably getting you back for last week.”
“What did I do last week, Evan?” Dan asked.
“The shaving cream incident? You covered his door and his bed.”
Dan laughed loudly, “I forgot about that. That was awesome.”
“Well, now you’re both even,” Evan said. “Can we get on with our lives?”
“I was trying to get Ethan up so we can leave. I don’t want to miss our flight, man.”
“We can leave now, if you really want to,” Ethan said. “I’ve been packed for days. We’ll just get there earlier than the others and have to wait.”
“Well, that’s better than just standing around this dump. School’s out, let’s rock!” Dan followed this comment with an enthusiastic bellow more suited to a crowded hockey arena after a game-winning goal than a university dormitory.
“Dan, I admire your passion, but you’re aware some people actually use Reading Week to study, aren’t you?” Evan smiled.
“Who gives a fuck?” Dan laughed. “Let’s go. I want to be the first one there.”
Ethan pulled on his boots and coat while his friends bantered, hardly listening. He hefted his duffel and followed them down the hallway.
“I bet Neal gets there before we do,” Evan said, talking about one of the friends they would be meeting at the airport.
“Uh uh, no way. We’re closer than he is, and we’re leaving earlier than we planned,” Dan said. “Twenty bucks says you’re wrong.”
“Deal.” Evan shook on it with his hefty friend. “I bet you another twenty that Owen is with Neal, and eating a sub sandwich while they wait for us.”
“A sub? Bullshit, easy money! I’ll take that bet. You couldn’t possibly know that.” Dan gleefully shook again. Evan shrugged.
“Owen likes snacks, what can I say. If I’m wrong on both counts, you just pocketed forty dollars.”
They stopped by Evan’s room and grabbed his gear, including his cherished guitar in a cloth gig-bag. Dan’s room was next door, so it wasn’t long before they were headed out of the building towards the parking lot.
“Crap, it’s snowing!” Dan said, tugging a hat over his dark hair as they walked through the school grounds.
“We’re going on a ski trip, Dan, better get used to it,” Ethan said. “There’s a lot of snow in the mountains.”
“And there’s a lot of snow-bunnies in Whistler. I am going to get so much ass this week!” Dan cheered.
“Pervert,” Evan laughed. Ethan strode ahead, finding his truck and tossing his bag into the back.
“Let’s roll, shall we?”
Ethan awoke towards sunset and smiled to himself. He touched his lips, where it seemed as if he could still feel the last tingling reminder of that kiss. He whistled a cheerful tune as he unpacked his little camp and started heading after the setting sun, a lighter step in his feet.
Dreams of the best day of his life were certainly better than the nightmares he had been having. Once such a dream would have been almost as disturbing as his visions, but he had come to cherish the memories of that summer. After he went to university he had shied away from reminiscing about Faith, afraid to feel bitter regret. He had never told his friends or his family about Faith, wanting to keep both the joy and the sadness to himself. That summer had been theirs and theirs alone, and he had never felt ready to share it with everyone else.
In the time since, Ethan had learned to accept his loss and saw that summer as a defining turning point in his life, one that put him fully on a path begun in high school. Faith had been a large part of that change, and he couldn’t look on their relationship as something to regret, no matter how it had ended. He owed her too much to mourn like that, so instead he looked to those memories for joy and strength whenever he felt the need for rejuvenation.
He just wished that things had ended differently.
He dreamed of summer. A warm afternoon sun, shade under a big tree, and a hammock to lie in. He was back at his uncle’s place on Lake Huron, the summer after high school, perhaps the happiest place he had ever been. He had gone north to escape his hometown, spread his wings a little. He worked for his uncle’s landscaping company with a group of young people.
He had felt shy around the others and took awhile to come out of his shell, because they all seemed to know each other and he was new that year. His newfound charm had won through, however, and he began making friends after a few awkward days. There was, however, one person on the team he was avoiding.
A girl was walking towards him. He used one hand as a visor over his eyes, blocking the glare from the sun so he could see her face. Even now he was bashful around her, even though he was comfortable with everyone else. It was just that she had to be the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and it made his throat close up whenever he saw her. And now she was standing in front of him.
“Hello, Ethan.” She said, the smile she offered warmer and brighter than the sun in the azure summer sky. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. How are you, Faith?” Somehow he managed to speak to her, and his voice was actually calm. It surprised him, because his heart was pounding in his chest like a jackhammer. He stood up, realizing that it was rude for him to be sitting.
“I’m great, thanks.” She pushed an errant curl behind her ear. Her hair was tightly curled and a golden red. Her eyes were hazel, and she was just a little shorter than he was. “I was just wondering why you’ve been avoiding me, is all.”
“I haven’t… I mean, I wasn’t…” He was suddenly very nervous, the calm in his voice dissolving. She laughed and sat on the hammock as if it were a couch, gesturing for him to join her. He sat down, blushing at being so tongue-tied.
“Yes, you have.” She said kindly, still smiling. “You’ve made friends with everyone else. I wondered if I had offended you.”
“No, not at all!” He said, alarmed that she had thought so. “I’m sorry if that’s what you thought. That’s not it at all.”
“So what is it, then?” She asked, her soft lips parting again in a smile.
“I don’t know. There’s this feeling around you, that’s all.” He shrugged, trying to avoid her gaze. She wouldn’t stop looking at him and smiling, and it was making him nervous.
“Is it bad?” She asked, and seemed genuinely hurt. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, I can go, if you want.”
“It’s not that!” He said again, worried that he had hurt her feelings. He hated to hurt people in any way. “It’s not bad at all. Really.”
“So it’s a good feeling?” She smiled coyly, “You avoid something that feels good? Why is that, Ethan?”
He blushed again. He looked at the sparkling blue lake, the green leaves of the trees swaying in the wind, at anything but her. “Because it scares me.” He said quietly.
“What?” She said gently. “What are you scared of?”
“Maybe it sounds dumb, but I always know when I meet people if we’re going to be friends.” He tried to explain. “It’s weird, but it’s like I recognize people, somehow. Like the way you can tell the difference between an actor and an extra in a movie scene. You just know.”
She nodded, thinking that she understood. “Go on.”
“Well, that feeling’s never wrong. It may take awhile, but people who feel that way always become one of my closest friends.”
“Do I feel like that?” She asked, genuinely touched.
“No.” Ethan shook his head. “No, Faith. You feel like more than that, and that’s never happened before. I never knew it was possible. That’s what scares me.”
For the first time he looked her in the eye, needing her to understand. The steel within him had come out a bit, enough to make him dare to say it aloud. He had never ever dared before, never had the courage. Not with Hope or with anyone else. But this girl, there was something about her, something wonderful and different and frightening. He had to try.
Something about his words must have had an effect, because she leaned into him suddenly, tilting her head to the side. Her lips touched his and suddenly they were kissing. It was soft and moist and sweet, and it was his first. Ethan would remember it forever, as one of the best moments of his life. She felt right, in a way that Hope and every other girl he had ever met had never felt. His gut never failed him, it was always right about people, so he trusted it.
It gained him the best summer of his life.
Ethan woke up and saw the bread and fruit lying beside him with his one open eye. He had discovered a curious and wonderful thing: his senses had sharpened over the past few months in the desert to an amazing degree. He could smell water long before he saw it, and heard the small scorpions and other creatures of the desert quite easily. His eyesight had sharpened, too, and the blurs on the horizon were becoming easier to distinguish. So, he had felt his guardian angel put the food beside him and awakened instantly.
Not quickly enough, apparently, because he had yet to see his unknown friend. Whoever it was, they left food every day while he slept. It was just enough to see to his nutritional needs. Ethan suspected that it was Raphael or the other one, Gambiel, but wasn’t sure. It didn’t seem Gambiel’s style, but Raphael had been helpful. Whoever it was, he was grateful. It was some of the best tasting food he’d ever had.
He washed down his breakfast with water from the hide canteen he’d found at his side the first time he slept after meeting the angels, and marvelled at how sweet water could taste. All it took was being stranded in the desert to appreciate something so commonplace as water.
He looked west, where the sun was heading slowly towards the horizon, and started walking. Time to roll, he thought, and miles to go before I sleep.
***
When Ethan finally did set up camp, under the shadow of a lonely boulder, he didn’t fall asleep right away. He thought instead of Hope, whose death he had witnessed in his dreams. He hadn’t thought about her in a long time, and he thought that it was sad that it had taken her death to remind him that he cared about her. He wasn’t in love with her, he’d known that for a long time, but he did love her. She had been a good friend.
He thought back to that autumn, when he’d finally realized that he wasn’t in love, that he was obsessed instead. It had been the first step in the difficult struggle to break that vicious cycle, but he had made it. He remembered that it had been the dream that made him wake up to that fact, the dream of being buried in the snow and then rescued. He had always believed that she had been his rescuer, but the dream made him suspect differently.
In the dream, the silhouette of the girl calling to him had wings. And that wasn’t just the strangeness of dreams at play in his subconscious, he remembered thinking that as he passed out. He had been awake then, the dreams didn’t come until much later. Her shape was wrong to be Hope, too. Hope was shorter, and it had been winter. Hope would have had her parka, and the shape was too supple and feminine to have been someone in a parka.
The more and more he thought about it, the more sure he was that it had been someone else. The wings had made him think of it. They had seemed ridiculous at first, the construct of an addled, frozen boy’s overactive imagination, but now he wasn’t so sure. He had met real angels after all, and that changed things. Changed them significantly.
As Ethan walked west, he would occasionally cast surreptitious glances over his shoulder, hoping to spot her. Because he was increasingly sure that someone was following him, someone who had been taking care of him in this wasteland, and maybe even before that.
***
Time began to have no meaning. Each day was exactly the same as the one before as he crossed the wastelands. Sometimes he found small streams of water, but, even if he didn’t, the hide canteen was always full. Sometimes there were rocks or hills for variety, but usually there was just sand. Miles and miles of sand. For a while he kept track of the days by notching one of his sticks with a sharp rock, but when the first pole had lines from bottom to top, he gave up because there seemed to be no point. Little ever changed, and he didn’t seem to be getting anywhere.
He stared up at the stars, tiny diamonds in the black sky, and laughed. They were his only company these days, and they weren’t great at making conversation.
“Jesus was in the wilderness for forty days,” he cried out to them, “and Moses walked in it for forty years. How long have I been out here?”
As usual, the stars made no reply.
Neal arrived at lunch, knocking on the screen door. Eve smiled warmly as she let him in.
“I didn’t expect you so soon.” She said, “I thought that you’d want to spend some time with your dad.”
“Yeah, well, it’s Friday and he had work at the office. Tomorrow we’ll talk. Zoë and Jay are still sleeping, I guess the flight wiped them out. I wanted to see you.” He said sheepishly.
She smiled again, bringing him into the kitchen to eat lunch with Gran and Gwen, who greeted him warmly.
“I’ve been up since early this morning.” Genevieve said, passing him a plate with a tuna fish sandwich. “Gwen and I did some talking. I think I’ll tell you about some of it,” she glanced at her grandmother, busy eating a light salad, “but later.”
“Sure.” He nodded and winked conspiratorially, causing Gran to raise her eyebrow and laugh inwardly. She remembered what it was like to be young.
They slipped out the back door in the kitchen as soon as the table was cleared and went for a walk in the backfields. The day was sunny and warm, but even so, Eve walked with her arms close together as if she were cold.
“I’m really worried about Ethan.” She confided to Neal as they walked through the grass. “And I know that you’re going to say that I shouldn’t be, so don’t bother. This is serious. Gwen and Hope found his journals and have been reading them. Gwen showed me some this morning, and it’s scary. I’m afraid that Ethan may have schizophrenia or something, because of the bullies in school and that near-death experience in the graveyard.”
“What?” Neal said, surprised, “Your brother’s odd sometimes, but schizo?”
“I’m serious, Neal. His journals talk about this voice that tells him to do bad things, and the only thing that stops him is his strength and how much he cares about everyone. I think something’s wrong in his head, and maybe the plane crash made it worse or something, because he was scary after that. He beat that man to a pulp, Neal.”
“Well, he’s been quiet before, that’s not new. Attacking that guy, maybe it was just the strain of the past few weeks, and he was defending you.” Neal argued, trying to give Ethan the benefit of the doubt.
“He smiled, Neal, like he enjoyed it. Dan and Alex almost couldn’t get him off.” She said fiercely, “Something’s wrong, why won’t you see that? But that’s not the only thing.”
“What else is there?” Neal asked.
“Have you noticed that Ethan’s been using his left hand to do things?”
“What?” He said. This was the last question he had expected. What did Ethan’s left hand have to do with anything?
“He’s right-handed, but lately he does everything with the left. It took me forever to notice, but it’s there. I think that he may have actually received that concussion we were afraid of on the mountain, and I think it gave him brain damage or something.”
“Is that even possible?” Neal said, doubtful.
“I don’t know. But how else would you explain something like that? People don’t just randomly become left-handed.”
“So what do we do about it? He’s there and we’re here.”
“I don’t know. We could call Mr. Lamb and tell him that we’re worried. Maybe he could convince Ethan to see a doctor or something.”
“I’ll do that tonight. He’ll take care of it, don’t worry. I’m sure everything’s fine.”
Genevieve nodded, hoping that he was right. Nonetheless, she couldn’t shake the chill she still felt. Ethan had described the dark other as a tiger, and that had been in her dreams and Jason’s visions. She didn’t know what that meant, but she feared that it couldn’t be good.
Neal came back to the house after dinner, and took her for a drive in his dad’s van. They headed into town to see a movie at the local theatre. Neal thought it would do her good to get out of the house, that way she might not dwell so much on something she could do very little about.
“I talked to Lamb,” he said on the way, “and he says he’ll take Ethan to his doctor first thing tomorrow, whether Ethan wants to go or not. He thinks you may be right, Ethan could’ve been hurt, seeing as how he was unconscious for days. Lamb felt bad that he hadn’t thought to take us to the doctor, but he thought that we seemed fine. I told you he’d take care of it.”
“I’m glad. Things might turn out okay.” She felt relief that someone was finally doing something about Ethan’s aberrant behaviour. Her relief was so great that she forgot that she didn’t completely trust the charismatic Mr. Lamb that much, either. She actually had fun with Neal that night, and managed not to think about Ethan at all.
Her mother got her an interview at the local restaurant the next day, and she got the job and started right away. Neal would often take her out to play mini-golf or go to the movies. With work and all the attention Neal was paying to her, she entirely forgot to ask him whether Lamb had called to tell him about Ethan’s doctor appointment. As she and Neal grew closer and started dating, all her worries about Ethan faded away over the summer. Later on, she would wonder why it had been so easy to forget like that and let her guard down. But later on, it was too late.
Genevieve finished reading, and wiped a tear off her cheek. She put the journal on her bedside table, and hugged Gwen.
“You’re right, it is pretty scary. It’s like Ethan thought there was someone else inside him, and that’s pretty creepy…” She stopped suddenly, a thought occurring to her with the sudden clarity of a dark object illuminated by a sudden burst of lightning in a storm. It was a thought that had been tantalizing her since the mountain, but it had always stayed in the darkness. Now she had caught a glimpse of it, and she thought she knew how to see more.
“Gwen, hand me my bag.” She said. Gwendolyn reached down and grabbed her duffel from the floor at the side of the bed, and hauled it up. Evie rifled through it and pulled out a pair of denim shorts with a triumphant grin.
She reached into the pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“What is that?” Gwen asked.
“I’m not sure, but I think I have an idea that it might prove something.” Evie unfolded the paper and compared it to Ethan’s journal. She placed the short note directly overtop of the journal page, and compared the handwriting.
Dear Everybody,
Hope and I have gone to talk. This conversation has been a long time in coming, so I hope you’ll understand if it takes awhile. Be back as soon as I can.
I don’t know if I can win this fight, and that frightens me, but I have to try.
There was a difference, she was sure of it.
“Gwen, do you see a difference?” She asked. “Is the writing the same?”
“It’s similar.” Her little sister said. “But something’s wrong with that note.”
“That’s what I think.” Genevieve continued to look at it.
She picked up the journal, keeping the note on top, and looked closely.
“See the I’s?” She asked. “The way he writes them, they’re slanted differently. The note is angled more towards the right.”
They both peered closely at the writing, and Eve was more and more sure of it as she looked. The note said “I can” at the end, and the journal said “I can” as well, but the note was slanted. She was positive.
“It’s almost like he was writing it at an angle.” She said. Gwen looked at her with a funny expression on her face. Like what Eve just said had sparked a memory.
“I have a friend at school that does that.” Gwen said. “Her name’s Michelle, she holds the paper funny so she can write with her left hand.”
“What?” Evie asked, looking away from the paper to her little sister. She’d had another one of those lightning flashes of comprehension, and she wanted to see if she could glimpse just a little more of the idea that was beginning to dawn on her.
“She’s left-handed, so she moves the paper so she can see what she’s writing a little better. See, her hand gets in the way so she can’t see everything she’s writing…” Gwen was explaining, but Eve’s face lit up with understanding.
She could see it all now.
On the mountain Ethan had helped Neal up, and that gesture bothered her. She hadn’t known why, but now she realized that he had used his left hand to do it. Ethan was right-handed.
Once she had seen him salute the limo driver, and it had disturbed her even though it was familiar. And then she remembered how, as kids, Ethan had offered the same salute to her every morning and every night when they were both in the bathroom to brush their teeth. He did it with his right hand, but in the mirror it looked like his left. He had saluted the driver in the same way with his left hand, and that’s why it seemed familiar and yet strange, because he always used his right. It only looked like the left when it was reflected.
“He’s left-handed.” She whispered aloud. Gwen stared at her as if she were stupid.
“Ethan’s right-handed.” She said, looking up at her big sister with her hands on her hips in mock-exasperation, as if to say that she didn’t know what she would do with all these big people that ran the world yet could sometimes seem so dumb.
“You’re right. Ethan is. That’s what scares me.” She remembered what he’d written, the words now leaping into her mind - the other, the dark one, the tiger… And she shivered despite the summer sun rising outside her window.
When Genevieve awakened the next morning, Gwen was standing at the foot of her bed.
“Gwen?” Eve asked, groggy. She sat up and rubbed sleep from her eyes.
“I want you to read something.” Gwen said.
“Can’t it wait? It’s six in the morning, honey, I need another few hours of sleep.” She said after looking at the alarm clock. Sunlight was slowly filtering into the room from the window, giving it a soft golden tinge, but she could still sleep. She needed to, after the stress of the past few months. She felt a hundred years old.
“No, it can’t. It’s about Ethan and Hope.”
This statement made Genevieve become very suddenly awake, like a sudden jolt of energy had just coursed through her, or like something had just jumped up and bit her.
“What is it?” She said, abruptly very curious. Eve remembered her parents telling her Gwen hadn’t been speaking. Why was this important enough to change that?
“He left us his journal. Hope found it and read some to me. I read some more yesterday, since I knew she wasn’t coming back. I think you should read this part, and this one, that she read, and then this new part. I don’t know if I understand it completely, but I think it’s scary.”
When Eve finished reading it, with Gwen cuddled in her lap for comfort, she thought that it was pretty scary, too.
***
First she read the part about the graveyard, and cried when she saw how Ethan’s obsession with Hope began and at the memory of that year, and the pain he had been in after his beating. She had been worried that he might die for several days, and it had been the scariest time of her life. Then she read the more recent part, written in the autumn after Hope had left and when Ethan was in his last year of high school:
I spent all summer brooding over a lost friendship. I believed for a time that I was in love, and now I know that I was wrong. It took a lot of soul searching to reach this point, but now that I’m here I find myself laughing at myself. I laugh because it’s better than crying. Last year was all a lie, and that is a sad and pitiful thing.
I have discovered that I don’t care about myself very much. I never really thought that before. I felt it, way down deep, but never needed to think about it. It was just the way things were, and had been for so long that I never knew any other way. But now I can think about it, and that means that I can change it, because I can teach myself to think differently.
There is this hole, a void where my self-love and respect should be. Sometimes it makes me feel empty and alone, and when this feeling gets bad enough I have to go out and try to fill it, and I do that through my friends. I live for them, helping them out with whatever they need, doing whatever I can to make them happy. The affection and thanks they give in return make it easier to not feel that emptiness, but it never really goes away.
I once had a best friend, and she was better than almost anyone at helping me with that void. So good, in fact, that I thought perhaps that she could fill it. I was wrong, but that didn’t stop me from obsessing about her, hoping that she would be willing to solve all my problems for me. I became so attached that I convinced myself that I was in love with her. But I wasn’t.
Love is about mutual respect and affection, equality, living for each other and contributing to each other’s lives. What I did was live for someone else and not for myself at all. I willingly enslaved myself to them, whether they knew it or not, because that was better than living with myself. That’s no way to live. No one else can live your life for you, to expect them to is to be worse than a parasite or a vampire. Worse, because parasites have no choice about the way they survive, it’s the way they’re designed. I chose to think and feel this way, so I have no one to blame but myself.
That’s not entirely true, I guess. I was taught to hate myself over years of verbal and physical abuse from my peers. They taught me that I was garbage, and if you hear something often enough, you begin to believe it. That was all years ago though, so I should be able to choose to put it behind me. So far I haven’t. But that’s what I’m working on now.
See, even though they did a lot of damage, I survived it and moved on. I never really gave up, so I guess even deeper down than my self-loathing is some amount of self-respect, like steel buried in sand, or a diamond in the rough. That is what gives me hope now, the hope that I can find myself and care about myself for a change. No one else is going to do it for me. If I let them, it means that I wouldn’t really believe it for myself. I have to believe it, or it won’t work, I think.
It’s the only way I can change. And I have to do that, or I’ll go mad.
Sometimes it feels like there are two of me. The first me is the one that I was when I was young, before school. I remember being happier, and friendly. Sometimes I can still be that way with my family and my friends. Sometimes. Usually with my sisters, Evie and Gwen. I thank God for them, for they keep me sane. They prove that I’m not always the other me, the darker one. They’re like islands of light in that darkness, putting me in touch with who I’m supposed to be.
The darker me isn’t me at all. It was created by the pain inflicted by the schoolyard bullies, and it’s lonely, depressed, and most of all, it’s angry. It’s like this boiling pit of rage, like the molten lava at the centre of the earth. I strive to prevent myself from getting angry, because I’m afraid of what could happen. The few times I’ve been angry were like volcanoes going off and then returning to dormancy. I’m afraid that if all that rage came out at once, it would be like the earth’s core suddenly blowing itself apart, creating untold devastation.
My solitary, withdrawn nature is a defence to keep that anger in check, to prevent others from finding out about it. I don’t want them to get hurt, and I’m not so sure I could stop it if it got out of hand. It’s so strong, I’m afraid that if I didn’t keep a constant guard on it, it could overwhelm me. It’s like a little boy trying to keep a tiger leashed, at any moment the tiger could turn on the child and swallow him whole.
The tiger growls, it makes me think about hurting the people who have hurt me, getting revenge on them. Sometimes it makes me think about hurting the people I care about, like my family and friends. It’s awful, it’s almost like someone else’s voice whispering to me in the dark and in my dreams. I want it to go away, and I have arguments with it, telling it to leave me alone. It tells me that I can’t trust anyone, seeing as how often people have hurt me before.
It’s the voice that still tells me I’m garbage, and it’s what make me hate myself. Hear something often enough, and you begin to believe it. But, part of me fights back, says that I am worth something. It’s quieter, but it’s always been there, since I was small. Because of it, I’ve been able to hold on so far. I’ve never given up, so that’s something. I’ve become an insomniac, though, because I’ll argue with myself all night long sometimes.
I’ve decided that I can’t listen to it anymore, so I’m going to strive to find my own self-worth, and listen to that quiet, good voice. Like I said, I think it’s part of who I’ve always been, the part that’s in the light, the part my sisters encourage. The other, the dark one, he’s there because of my life and the cruel people I’ve encountered. He’s not me at all, and I’m finally beginning to see that. He’s the garbage, not me, and it’s time someone took him out to the curb.
I don’t know if I can win this fight, and that frightens me, but I have to try.
She collapsed into her mother’s arms as soon as she was home, and the two of them sat on the couch sobbing for a long time. Eve had to ask questions, like why this had to happen, why it couldn’t have been her instead… Her mother just held her reassuringly, knowing that the questions were rhetorical, either that or for God, and didn’t require an answer from her. When Evie ran out of tears, she went to bed in her old room. Gwen had apparently been heart-broken that Hope was dead, and hadn’t even spoken since their father found the Kelleys’ bodies.
Exhausted, Genevieve fell into a deep sleep. One that led her to a strange place in her dreams.
There was a young man walking. The man had been walking all night across the desert, hoping to cover as much distance as possible before the sun rose and it became too hot to continue any distance. Now, as the glowing orb rose, he busied himself with building his tiny shelter out of his robes and poles he carried for that purpose on his back.
He lay in the shade of the shelter and closed his eyes. He did not fall asleep right away, however, but merely lay on his back and drew in deep, regular breaths. Apparently the breaths were meant to calm him, for he abruptly rolled over on his side and dropped off to sleep.
Unbeknownst to him, someone was watching. She always was, and he never knew. She stared at the young man and took in every detail: the unkempt hair, growing longer and longer all the time, his bearded face, his hairy chest, the tiny scars under his lip, his slightly crooked broken nose. He was slender, yet well-muscled and deeply tanned. There was a small birthmark on his bare left ankle, a dark brown that stood out even against his tanned skin.
The watcher smiled to herself, remembering when the man had been young, paler and not as muscled. He had still been slim, despite a small layer of fat that had been there since childhood. In her mind’s eye she could see him simultaneously as an infant, a toddler, an adolescent and a young man, even as she gazed at the bearded wanderer that he had become.
She chuckled merrily to herself, recalling his youth. To her it all flowed together and seemed but a few moments, though to him it was undoubtedly a long time. That was one of the sad and wonderful things about the ephemerals, she had always thought. So short a time, yet their lives could be so rich. In the dream, Genevieve could feel the watcher think this, as if they were connected somehow, sharing thought and feeling as easily as friends share smiles.
She felt the watcher’s concern just as keenly when she looked at the man. Tiny beads of sweat appeared on his brow, but not from the heat. He moaned and stirred uneasily, as if in the throes of a tumultuous dream. She laid a hand on his brow, brushing aside the sweat and his tangled hair. She smiled softly as he calmed, going back to a peaceful sleep.
“Sweet dreams, noble one.” She whispered, her melodious voice familiar to Eve. “Rest easy. I’ll watch over you. I always have.”
Genevieve was sitting with Neal in the front living room with their bags packed around them when the others got back. Jason and Zoë dragged their bags in not a moment later.
“We’re leaving.” She said coldly when Lamb asked her what was going on. “Now.”
“But, Genevieve, my dear, I thought you were planning to stay until the first performance?” Lamb asked, trying to wheedle her into staying with his charm.
“No. Now. Hope went home, all right, and somebody killed her and her parents. We’re going to be with our families. Now!” Her eyes flashed and Lamb waved his hands at her.
“All right, all right, simmer down. I’ll get Jasper to load the limo with your things.” He went out to the car. The others gathered around her with concern.
“Are you serious, Hope’s dead?” Alex asked, flabbergasted.
“Eve’s father found them. Sheriff Mills is trying to piece together what happened, but he’ll probably have to call the Provincial Police or maybe the RCMP. It’s pretty serious.” Neal told them. Genevieve was still sitting beside him, desperate to leave.
“We’re going home to do what we can. Everyone’s pretty upset.” Zoë said. “But we think that you should all stay and continue with the band thing. It’s a great opportunity, and Hope would have wanted you to follow your dream. Right now, we’re needed at home.”
“Are you coming, Ethan?” Jay asked, looking at the sombre young man standing somewhat apart from the group.
“I can’t.” He said, “Mr. Lamb has asked me to stay on as an assistant, and help him with the behind-the-scenes stuff for the band and at his office. I won’t find a better job at home and it could really help pay for school. I’ll call home, of course, but I should really stay.”
Genevieve showed no reaction in her stone face, but continued to stare at the door. In truth, she wasn’t really surprised at Ethan’s decision. She just wanted to leave.
Ethan awoke screaming. He had seen Hope die in his dreams, seen her tears as he held her in his hands, and saw himself drop her into the river below. It was appalling, it tore at his heart and soul, but he had watched helplessly as he killed someone who had once been his best friend.
“IN THE NAME OF GOD, WHAT HAVE I DONE?” He cried out, his voice carried away by the wind. He looked around and saw nothing but the desert at noon. He lay back down in the canopy he had created out of thin sticks and the robes Gambiel had given him, sweat pouring from his brow. Sweat that was more from fear than it was from the hellish heat. He had seen her die, and he had killed her.
It was impossible, it was absolutely impossible, but he saw it happen in his dream. But it hadn’t felt exactly like his other dreams. It had felt real, like he was living through it. There had been a sort of gleeful anticipation as they walked through Capilano together, because he had known from the start that she was going to die, and she had no idea. He had felt the menacing joy of a cruel boy pulling wings off a fly as he taunted her on the bridge, and he had felt the sudden, blinding rage that she had unleashed when she told him that it had been a mistake, that she had never come for him in the cemetery at all, that his obsessive love was all a lie.
That was the strange part. He had believed that he loved her, up until then. At least, until she told him it was a lie. Then came the rage, and actual pleasure in murdering her. Her death was the culmination of years of resentment and bitterness because she had never loved him in return, and because she had broken her promise, and so had been an almost climactic release. But Ethan had known for more than two years that he had never loved her, that it had been an unhealthy fixation. So why did he feel that so strongly in the dream?
It terrified him, that he had seen and felt it all so vividly. It was unlike any dream he had ever had. Even the visions that now plagued him when he slept were not as vivid as this latest nightmare. It shook him to his core, for it had felt real. He had felt her skin under his hands, smelled her unmistakable girlish odour, felt the giddy thrill of ending her existence, as if he had been the one doing it. He knew he hadn’t done it, and that’s what saved his sanity. He was here in the desert, for one thing. The other thing, the fact that made him certain, was that he had noticed that he could share in the feelings of his murderous doppelganger, but he had only the barest glimmering sense of what the monster had been thinking. He had no control in the dream, it had not been his wish or command that she be dropped… Someone else had done that, someone else who was wearing his face…
At this forbidding thought, Ethan shivered, despite the blistering heat outside his little tent. Shivered, and prayed for the safety of his other friends.
In the gathering dusk, they stood watching the cold stars blink into view. They sat on the hood of the limousine, waiting for the others to finish their rehearsal in the soundproof studio Lamb had arranged.
“Did your man do as I instructed?” asked the cold-voiced monster wearing Ethan Pitney’s face.
“Yes. He contacted me an hour ago, saying that the police finally found them. He burned them with the gasoline as you suggested. The sheriff is completely flummoxed, no idea who could have done such a horrendous thing in his quiet little town, or why. I’m sure that it will be impossible for them to figure out that she was drowned.”
“It won’t matter even if they do. There’s nothing connecting us to any of it. The only one left that can possibly suspect anything is Genevieve, and she wouldn’t be able to believe it. Not her Ethan, even if he is acting strangely. It’s not possible.” He spoke with sarcasm, and then laughed spitefully. “I’m so glad that the weakling is gone. It feels so good to be in control after all this time.”
“Even so, you should make an effort to be less conspicuous for awhile. You can’t just kill indiscriminately, not yet, anyway.” Lamb cautioned.
“I suppose,” The younger man concurred, “but I do hope I won’t have to wait too long.”
“Not to worry. While the others start performing, and your sister goes home, we’ll have you stay here. We’ll say you’ve accepted a summer job with me as an aide, and in the meantime we’ll get you trained in all forms of combat imaginable. Not only will you have the will to kill, you’ll also have the ability.”
“Sounds like fun,” the spectre laughed, his eyes as cold as the cheerless stars they looked at. “Sounds like a lot of fun.”
The phone rang at three o’clock, which meant that it was eight back home. Genevieve picked it up in the T.V. room, where she, Zoë, Neal and Jay were watching a movie. The others were rehearsing, and Lamb and Ethan had gone along.
“Hello?” She said, getting up from her seat next to Neal to get away from the television. She went into a corner of the room.
“Eve, honey?” Came her mother’s voice, quivering as if she’d been crying.
“What is it, Mom? What’s wrong?” Genevieve answered, alarmed by her mother’s tone.
“Your father, he called Mr. Kelley this afternoon as soon as he got home. We haven’t heard from them this week, and we usually get together for bridge or euchre every Friday, so he had planned to call them today or tomorrow anyhow, to see if we were still on. Their line was down, which he thought was strange, so your father went over there after supper.”
Her mother’s voice sounded more and more upset the more she talked. She was speaking quickly, and rambling some, so Genevieve knew that she was agitated. She could picture her mother in the kitchen on the old rotary phone, ringing her hands the way she did in an emergency, and it actually made her smile despite the sudden disquiet chilling her guts.
“What happened, Mom?” She asked, fear beginning to crawl up her spine. Zoë heard it in her voice from the couch, and had looked away from the movie to her in the corner.
“The door was unlocked, so he went in. They were in the kitchen, and there were flies everywhere…” Her mother’s voice broke for a moment, but she eventually continued. “Your father called the sheriff, and they’re all over there now. That’s why I’m calling instead. He had to answer questions.”
“Questions? The sheriff? What happened, Mom? Are the Kelleys okay?” Eve could hear the tears in her mother’s voice, but didn’t notice the ones on her own cheeks.
“They’re dead. All three of them, Hope and her parents. I’m sorry, baby.” Her mother bawled.
Genevieve collapsed to the floor sobbing, and Neal and Zoë rushed to her side.
He had been gone for most of the next day when he finally got back. The others were all out by the pool so they didn’t hear him come in. No one knew he was home until he came out onto the deck in his black swimming trunks.
“Mind if I join you?” He said, grinning. The guys welcomed him with a cheer, and they started a water fight in the deep end as soon as he came up for air from the cannonball he used to splash them all upon his entrance into the water. Chaos ensued and so much water was splashed that it hit the girls.
Genevieve, sunbathing with Zoë on the deck, sat up, concerned. She lifted her sunglasses away from her eyes and yelled for Ethan to come out of the water.
“What is it?” He asked, swimming to the edge of the pool and resting his arms on the deck. He didn’t get out of the pool, and it was clear he wanted to return to the water fight.
“Where’s Hope? Isn’t she with you?”
“No. She had to go.” He said, turning to leave.
“What do you mean, she left? Why?” Genevieve demanded.
“She didn’t say. We talked, and she got really upset, so I let her go.” He said matter-of-factly. “She and I still have issues, and I guess that made her really uncomfortable.”
“Maybe I should call her.” Zoë said, sitting up and looking at Eve.
“That’s a good idea, I’ll come with you.” Genevieve grabbed her towel.
“That’s silly,” her brother said, “She just left, she couldn’t possibly be home yet. Wait at least a few days. I wouldn’t bother, though. She probably won’t be able to talk about it.”
“Sure she will. If she’s upset, she’d want her friends to be there for her, even if it’s just over the phone.” Zoë disagreed.
“Okay, if you say so.” He turned and dove back into the water.
Genevieve shook her head. It wasn’t like Ethan to be so rude, let alone so callous about a friend leaving. Usually he’d be really concerned if he had upset someone he cared about.
“Do you think Ethan was acting strange?” She asked Zoë, who was settling back into her lounging chair to recommence sunbathing.
“Not really. Ethan likes keeping things to himself. He’s probably just as upset as Hope was, only he’s too proud to show it, so he’s pretending that he doesn’t care. I’m sure in a few days he’ll probably talk to one of us about it, and maybe even call her. You and I can talk to her tomorrow, and hear how she is.”
“Okay,” Genevieve said. “I hope you’re right.”
The next day there was a thunderstorm that knocked out the electricity and the phone lines. Lightning knocked over a few of the telephone poles on the road. Being out on a rural road meant that the repairmen didn’t get out to fix the problem until the next day. The day after that, Mr. Lamb took them all into the city for lunch before the guys had a recording session, as the record producers they’d met with were very interested, but wanted a demo tape. To pass the time, Eve and Zoë went shopping and caught a movie. That night they went out for dinner and dancing to celebrate the impending success of the band and the beginning of the road towards founding the new church that they were planning.
So, it was three days before Zoë thought to call Hope’s house. She and Eve gathered around the phone in the kitchen just after lunch. Zoë dialled, and waited. After a few rings, a computerized voice said “The number you have dialled is no longer in service. Please hang up and try again.”
“That’s odd,” Zoë said, her brow furrowed with confusion. “I didn’t get the number wrong. Maybe they changed it?”
“Let me call home. Grandma should be there, maybe she can get a hold of them.”
Genevieve waited while the phone rang, and then heard her grandmother pick up.
“Grandma? Hi, it’s me, Eve.”
“Hello, child! How are you? How’s that brother of yours? We haven’t heard from him, yet, you know!”
“I’m fine, and Ethan’s okay, I guess. I nag him about calling, but I guess he never finds the time. You know how he hates phones.”
“That I do. He’d make you kids answer it, and never used the thing unless he had to.” Eve heard her grandmother chuckle, and could imagine the familiar smile that must have been on Grandma’s face. She smiled to herself, thinking how much she missed her family.
“Listen, Gran, I was wondering if you’ve heard from the Kelleys lately. Has Hope come home?”
“I haven’t heard anything in particular, dear. I thought that Hope went out to see you all with Zoë, though. Isn’t she there?”
“Zoë’s here. Hope went back home a few days ago. Ethan said that she was kind of upset after a conversation they had.”
“Your father’s good friends with Mr. Kelley, so I guess I could ask him to give them a call after he gets home if you like. Not much point before then, everyone’s at work or school but me.” Her grandmother paused. “That’s odd though, that Ethan should upset her. They were awfully close, as I seem to recall.”
“Yes, Gran. They sort of had a falling out before Hope graduated, and I guess they’re not ready to make amends yet.”
“That’s odd, too. Hope was here a month or so ago, and she was sure worried about you and Ethan. I can’t see her giving up on him now, when she kept all of us hoping that he was all right while you were all missing. I think you should talk to that boy, find out what he said that drove her off. That’s just not like him.”
Genevieve grinned at Zoë and whispered, “See, even Gran thinks Ethan’s acting strange and she’s not even here.” She then turned back to her conversation on the phone.
“I will, Gran, don’t worry. Send my love to everyone and tell Mom I’ll call her soon.”
“I’ll be sure to do that, child, don’t worry. Just talk to that boy and see that he calls home. When are you two coming back?”
“Hopefully soon. There are still a few things to do here, and then we can come home for the summer. Mr. Lamb is getting the guys ready for some band stuff, I think he has some gigs planned for the summer and Ethan doesn’t want to leave until everything’s set. We both want to see their first performance, and then we’ll be on the next plane home. Shouldn’t be later than the end of June or the beginning of July.”
“Well, sooner would be better than later. Your baby sister Gwen’s been nagging your parents to tell you she wants you both home. She says she has something important to tell you, but won’t tell us what.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe I should call her later, but for now I gotta go, Gran. Love ya!”
Genevieve hung up. “Well, she’s getting Dad to call after work, so maybe he can reach them. If no one answers, maybe he’ll go over there.”
“I’m sure everything’s fine.” Zoë said. “Don’t worry about it.”
And for the rest of the day, she didn’t.
Zoë read the note on the kitchen table, and she showed it to Genevieve. They had arrived back at the house in time for lunch and found it empty. They had planned to go swimming with Hope, but the note showed that there was no point in going upstairs to see if she was still sleeping.
Dear Everybody, it read, Hope and I have gone to talk. This conversation has been a long time in coming, so I hope you’ll understand if it takes awhile. Be back as soon as I can.
It was unsigned, but of course they knew who it was from. Genevieve kept staring at it, for something about the hastily scrawled note bothered her. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. She folded the small piece of paper up and put it in the pocket of her shorts, and then promptly forgot about it. For a while.
Perhaps if she’d remembered sooner, it would have made a difference.
The others came back in time for dinner, but Ethan and Hope were no-shows. They all stayed up late, and still no sign. Genevieve stayed up past the others and finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion on the couch in the living room near the front door at four in the morning, but no one came in while she waited. There was no word at breakfast the next morning, either.
“I am officially worried.” Genevieve said. “How long could it take, anyway?”
“Those two?” Alex laughed. “They could talk for a year without stopping, if they wanted to. I’d imagine that they have a lot to say to each other. I remember what Ethan went through the year Hope graduated. He told me about his crush on her, and, after their friendship ended, he and I talked about how much that hurt him.”
Genevieve looked at Alexander in surprise. She’d had no idea that her brother had confided to him the thoughts that she’d believed he had only shared with her.
“I’m not surprised, though he and I never talked about it.” Neal said. “I could see the way he acted around her that year. If they need to talk it out, well, it’s about time.”
“I’m still worried. Ethan’s been acting very strangely.” Genevieve interjected.
“Is that what’s been bothering you lately?” Neal said.
“Earth to Genevieve, Ethan’s always been strange.” Dan said, laughing. She glared at him, and he was stunned into silence.
“Easy, Eve.” Owen said. “Dan has a point. Ethan has his moods, we all know that. For years he was the Invisible Man, and in high school he made up for it by being involved in everything. Saying that he’s acting different is like saying the sky is blue or the grass is green.”
“But this is different!” Genevieve banged her fists on the kitchen table in exasperation. “He’s been more withdrawn than he has been in years, maybe since before high school, and that’s not good. He’s not himself, I tell you.”
“Actually, you’re wrong about that.” Dan said, flinching as if he expected another blast from her, but feeling the need to speak up. “Ethan acted a lot like this last year at our university. Evan and I were the only ones at the same school, and I’m sure he’ll back me up on this.”
“Dan’s right, Genevieve.” Evan concurred. “He was so quiet for the first two months of school, no one even knew who he was until November. Dan and I didn’t even know he went there with us until then, and we lived on his floor. He was brooding all year, but he wouldn’t say why. He refused to talk about it. It wasn’t until almost February that he really came out of his shell and started acting like he did in high school.”
“Yeah, it was great! We started going to the gym together, and he got in lots better shape under my expert tutelage.” Dan grinned, and flexed his big biceps for emphasis. “And Evan started teaching him to play guitar. Me and my friends took him clubbing and Evan took him to concerts… He really came to life in the last half of the school year.”
“You just never saw any of that because he was away. By that summer, when he came home, he was back to his old, cheery self.” Evan told her. “But for a while there, he was as withdrawn as he is now. It’s just a phase, like he always has. Give him time to figure it out, and he’ll be fine. He always is, and he always does it on his own. Maybe talking to Hope will help, but either way, it’s only a matter of time.”
Genevieve tried to find their words reassuring, but she still had a quiet, nagging doubt in the back of her mind. She vocalized her questions:
“Do you know why he acted that way? Did he ever tell you?” They shook their heads. “It’s so weird. When he went to Lake Huron in June he was really excited about school.”
“Lake Huron?” Evan asked.
“Sure, didn’t he talk about that? He was working for our uncle all summer, and never came home. He’d call or write, tell us he was fine, but we never saw him.” She said, surprised Evan and Dan hadn’t heard all about it already.
“He never told us anything.” Dan said. “Maybe that’s your answer, maybe something happened there that he didn’t want to talk about, and that made him withdraw. He dealt with it then, and he’ll deal with it now. It’s the way he is, so let it go.”
So she did. For a while.