Sunday, December 13^th, 2009

 

 

Kylee broke up with me today. My class ring is now stuffed beneath my socks in a dresser drawer. Maybe things would have worked out differently if last night hadn’t reminded me of that Saturday night two weeks ago.  It was snowing, and my father was working a twenty-four hour shift, and Clarice was here with me before I left to pick up Kylee for our date. Maybe if Kylee hadn’t pressured me to take her out in the first place, maybe if she would have understood I didn’t feel like going on a date and not gotten all teary-eyed while wondering what was wrong between us, I never would have done what I did.

 

     My hands are shaking because I’m so ashamed of myself.  I know better than to try what I did.  My father always taught me that when a girl says “no” then that means no, and I have to respect that.  He just...Papa never told me how sometimes so many emotions can be pushing and pulling you in other directions, and how easily you can ignore “no” if you let those emotions take over.

 

     Maybe I can figure out why what happened last night happened, if I start at the beginning, which was last Sunday, December 6^th. 

 

     Papa and I didn’t go to church that morning. I didn’t feel like seeing anyone I went to school with, so I didn’t suggest we attend.  Papa didn’t say anything about attending church either, but then, he usually leaves it up to me to mention it. I think he figured it would do me good to sleep late on the last day before I had to return to school, and just in general, not have to be anywhere at a certain time.  Normally, I like going to church, but as I said, I didn’t feel like being around anyone I went to school with, and since I’d stayed up most of Saturday night listening to make sure my father was okay, I was beat.  I slept until noon, which is pretty much unheard of for me unless I’m sick.  Papa was just coming in from outside, as I entered the kitchen after showering and dressing in a pair of faded jeans and a brown sweatshirt Carl had given me last year that bore the logo of the Eagle Harbor Police Department.  My father’s face was red from the cold, and he rubbed his hands together trying to warm them.

 

     “Did you do chores?” I asked

 

     “Yeah.  I called the twins and told ‘em they didn’t have to come by any more.  I’ll give you some money tomorrow to take to school for them.”

 

     “They didn’t do the chores for us to get paid.”

 

     “I know.” Papa turned on the hot water at the sink and washed his hands. “But it was nice of them to offer, and besides, what teenager doesn’t appreciate a little extra cash?”

 

     “True,” I agreed, as I rummaged through the refrigerator looking for something to eat.

 

     Papa wiped his hands dry on a clean dishtowel, then pushed me aside.  “Sit down. I’ll make us bacon and eggs.”

 

     “Didn’t you eat breakfast?”

     “Just had some juice and toast.”  He glanced at the clock as he pulled the frying pan out of a cabinet. He set it on the stove, then walked over and laid a hand on my forehead.  “Are you feelin’ okay?”

 

      I hate it when he treats me like I’m five years old.  The hand on the forehead thing always reminds me of when I was a little kid.  Sometimes it’s comforting, sure. But other times, like last Sunday, it’s just plain annoying. For that reason, I leaned sideways in my chair, which caused my father’s hand to fall away.

 

     “Yeah. I’m fine. Guess I stayed up too late watching TV.”

 

     “Guess so.”

 

     Papa must have been satisfied that I wasn’t running a raging fever, or in danger of dying from some mysterious illness, because he walked back to the stove.

 

     “Is your homework done?”

     “Yep. Got it finished while you were at the station yesterday.”

 

     “Good. Then you’ve got the rest of the day free.”’

 

     “Why’s that good?”

 

     He took the carton of eggs and a package of bacon out of the fridge. “You’ll be able to spend the afternoon with Kylee, and not worry about making time for homework.”

 

     “Oh...oh yeah.  Well...it doesn’t matter anyway, ‘cause she can’t come over.”

 

     Papa half turned to face me as he cracked six eggs into a mixing bowl, and scrambled them with a fork he’d grabbed from the silverware drawer.

 

     “You can pick her up if she can’t get the car. You’ve been feeling fine, so I don’t have any concerns about you driving to town and back.”

 

     “It’s not that she can’t get the car.  She just...she has a lot of homework to do, and her mom says she needs to get it finished.”

 

     “She can do it here.”

 

     I stood to grab a loaf of bread from the cabinet we keep it in. My actions weren’t prompted by the fact that I wanted toast, but because I knew it was more difficult for my father to make eye contact with me if I kept moving.

 

     “I know. But Mrs. Bonnette wants her to stay home.”

 

     I could feel my father studying me, but I refused to look at him as I stuck two slices of bread into the toaster.  As bacon popped and sizzled in the frying pan, he finally said, “It’s too bad she can’t come over, but if her mom says no, then no it is. If you wanna call the twins and see if they can come over, or someone else, go ahead.  My offer of dinner in Juneau still stands. Doesn’t make any difference to me who we take.”

 

     I shrugged. “I’ll think about it. I’m...I’m kinda tired.  It won’t bother me to just hang around here with you today.”

 

     Papa cocked an eyebrow at me. “You sure you’re feelin’ okay?”

 

     “Yeah. Why?”

     “First of all, you just woke up, so you shouldn’t be tired. And second of all, I think the last time you volunteered to hang around with me on a Sunday afternoon, you were thirteen.”

 

     I smiled at Papa’s teasing. His comment wasn’t entirely true.  We do things together on Sunday afternoons sometimes, but yeah, like most teenagers, I usually prefer being with my friends if given the choice.  I don’t know what made me reach out an arm and give him a sideways hug, other than to say I suddenly thought of the Sunday afternoons Carl and Papa hung out together working on the ’66 Corvette Carl started restoring last spring, or playing basketball, or watching a football game, and I felt so bad because it was my fault that friendship had been taken from him.

 

     Thinking of Carl made my smile fade as quickly as it had come.  I let my arm slip from my father’s waist before he got a chance to hug me in return.  His own surprise over the way I’d initiated that show of affection had made him slow to respond, and in a way, I was glad. It felt good to comfort him for a change, instead of the other way around.  Despite all that’s happened in recent days, I often get more of a glimpse of what adulthood is all about.  I don’t always like what I’m seeing, but sometimes I do.

 

     I got out another frying pan, poured some cooking oil in it, and grabbed five round potatoes the size of my hand from the vegetable crisper in the refrigerator.  My father loves hash brown potatoes with his eggs, but he doesn’t make them because he says it’s too much of a hassle. 

 

“Turn the flame down on those eggs so they don’t cook so fast. I’m gonna make you some hash browns.”

 

     “You don’t have to.”

 

     “I want to.”

 

     “It’s too much of a hassle.”

 

     “But you love ‘em.”

 

     “Yeah, when Clarice makes ‘em I do.”

 

     “What?” I asked, feigning insult. “You don’t think I can make good hash browns?”

 

     “I’m sure you can. After all, you’ve been watching Clarice make ‘em for the last sixteen years.”

 

     “That’s true. So see, I can make good hash browns.”

 

     “Probably. I just meant that they’re always better when someone else makes ‘em because it takes too long to fix ‘em, and then you have another pan to wash.”

 

     “We have a dishwasher,” I reminded. “And contrary to the John Gage philosophy on cooking, not everything you make has to be prepared in ten minutes or less, or taken from the freezer and put in the microwave.”

 

     Papa grinned as he snitched a piece bacon out of the frying pan, let it cool a few seconds, then popped it in his mouth. “In my book it does, kid, but hey, if Clarice has taught you culinary skills that are lost on me, I won’t argue with that.”

 

     “Good. Just keep an eye on those eggs, don’t let the bacon get cold, and put the lever down on the toaster when I tell you to. I’ll take care of the hash browns.”

 

Papa’s eyes twinkled at the way I was ordering him around. He gave me a mock salute and said, “Yes, sir.”

 

     I peeled the potatoes, washed them, then took the grater out of what Clarice refers to as the utensil drawer. I grated the potatoes into a deep bowl while I let the pan heat. When the potatoes were cooking, Papa set the table and kept an eye on the other food.  He put the lever down on the toaster when I announced it was time to do so, and spread margarine and grape jelly on the bread slices when they popped up the perfect shade of golden brown.

 

     I turned the potatoes one last time with the spatula I had in my hand, then lifted the pan from the burner.  I shut the flame off and walked over to the table, where I divided the potatoes between the two plates of scrambled eggs and bacon Papa had setting in front of our chairs.  He poured orange juice into glasses, while I carried the empty pan to the sink.  We sat down together, and the first thing my father did was take a big forkful of hash browns.  He chewed, and with his mouth still full said, “These are really good.”

 

     I shot him a smug smile.  “Told ya’ they would be.”

 

     We didn’t say much while we ate, but that had become normal for us ever since Carl died.  For the first time since Carl’s death, though, I thought my father seemed to have a good appetite, so I was glad I’d made the hash browns for him. When we were finished, I stood to clear the table. When Papa started to stand, too, I said, “Sit down. I’ll clean up.”

 

     “I can help.”

 

     “I know. But I wanna do it.”

 

     “If this is what sleeping until noon does for you,” Papa teased, “I think you should do it more often.”

 

     I knew he was referring to the hash browns I’d made, and then to the fact that I’d volunteered to clean up. 

 

     “Don’t get too used to it,” I teased right back. “I can promise it’s not gonna last.”

 

      “Too bad.  I’d enjoy having hash browns every Sunday.”

 

      “Buy ‘em frozen from the store and nuke ‘em,” I suggested.

 

      “It’s not the same.”

 

      “Same as what?”

 

“As when someone makes ‘em from fresh potatoes.”

 

      “I suppose not, but—”

 

      The phone rang in the middle of our discussion on the merits of frozen hash browns versus fresh ones.  Because I was putting dishes in the dishwasher, Papa got up and answered it.

 

     I heard him say, “Chief Gage’s residence,” and then my stomach turned over when he said, “Oh, hi, Kylee.”  Before I could grab the phone away, he said, “Sure he’s here,” and “Hey, sorry to hear you can’t come over this afternoon. If you get your homework done, feel free to call Trevor. He’ll come get you.”

 

     I don’t know what Kylee said in return, but it must have been enough to clue Papa in on the fact that I hadn’t called Kylee and invited her to come over like I’d told him.  He said, “Oh, I see,” in an uncomfortable sort of way, and then said, “Here’s Trevor,” and handed me the phone real fast as though he knew he’d put his foot in his mouth.

 

     Papa took over kitchen clean up, while I took the portable receiver and walked into the great room with it before putting it to my ear.

 

     “Hi.”

 

     The first thing out of Kylee’s mouth was a clipped, “What’s this about telling your papa I can’t come over this afternoon?”

 

     I kept my back to Papa as I crossed all the way to the far side of the great room. I pitched my voice to just above a whisper.

 

“Sorry.  I...I’m not feelin’ too good, and I don’t want him to know.”

 

     Kylee’s anger immediately turned to sympathy. As she murmured soft words of concern the way only women can, my mind drifted to the fact that I’d become quite skilled at lying to her in recent weeks. I’d been doing this since before Carl died – when the whole uproar happened between Pops and me over my book, and that kind of scared me.  I briefly wondered what it meant when lying to your girlfriend becomes second nature, but then tuned back into Kylee’s words and couldn’t take hearing her talk any more when she said, “Everyone at school was so upset over what happened to Carl. It just...it was a real different atmosphere all last week. Really sad. I felt so bad for poor Stephanie. She couldn’t stop crying. I think it’ll be better when you’re back tomorrow. Everyone’s anxious to see you.  I just called the hospital and talked to Jake’s mom. He’s doing better and—”

 

     “Listen, Kylee, I gotta get off the phone. Papa’s expecting a call.”

 

     “Oh...oh, okay.”

 

     I don’t know if she believed me or not, but either way, she sounded hurt, which in turn, made me feel like a louse for lying to her.

 

“I’m sorry. I’ll try and call you later.”

    

“Promise?”

 

     “Yeah...sure.”

 

     “You don’t sound like you mean it.”

 

     “I do.  I just...I’m just not feeling very well right now.  If I don’t call you, I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

 

     “You just promised that you would call me.”

 

     God, women have minds like steel traps.

 

     “I said I’d try to call you, and I will. It depends on when the call comes in that Papa’s expecting.”

 

     “It’s only one-thirty. You don’t have to stay off the phone until nine o’clock, do you?”

 

     Mr. Bonnette leaves for work at five each weekday morning, so it’s a well-known fact that unless you’re willing to risk your life, you don’t call Kylee’s house after nine.

 

     “I don’t know.  Like I said, it depends on when Papa gets that call.”

 

     “I can come over for a while. Mom’s not going anywhere this afternoon, so I’m sure I can use her car.”

 

     “No...no. I...like I said, I’m not feeling well.”

 

     “Trev—”

 

     I glanced over my shoulder. My father was seated at the table reading the newspaper that he must have gone into town for while I was still sleeping.  I turned back to face the wall.

 

“Listen, Pops is giving me the evil eye, so I gotta get off the phone. If I don’t talk to you later, I’ll see you in school, okay?”

 

     Kylee sighed, and I got the impression her sympathy with me had been replaced with exasperation.

 

“Okay.”  There was a moment of silence, then, “I love you, Trev.”

 

     “Love you too,” I said far too quickly, and without any feeling behind it.  “Bye.”

 

     I pressed the button that disconnected the call before I heard Kylee’s “goodbye” in return, if she even said it. 

 

     I walked the receiver back the kitchen and placed it in the phone’s base. When I turned around, Papa was looking at me. He cocked an eyebrow, which indicated he was waiting for an explanation as to why I’d told him I’d called Kylee when I really hadn’t.

 

     I dropped my eyes to the floor and said quietly, “I...I’m just not ready to see her before tomorrow.”

 

     When Papa didn’t respond, I looked up.  He must have been waiting for me to make eye contact with him, because he gave a slow nod.

 

     “Sometimes after you...lose someone you were close to, it’s hard to get back into the swing of daily life.”

 

     I swallowed hard and tried to find my voice around the lump in my throat.  “Ye...yeah.”

 

     “But it’s something you have to force yourself to do, Trevor.”

 

     “I will. Only...only not today. Tomorrow...tomorrow’s soon enough.”

 

     “If that’s the way you feel.”

 

     “It is.”

 

     “Okay then, how about if we go into Juneau and catch a movie?”

 

“Nah,” I shook my head. “We can watch a movie here.”

 

     “Trev, you’ve only been out of the house twice this week, and that was for Carl’s wa...” He didn’t finish with ‘wake and funeral’ like he’d started to say, but instead said, “that was just for a few hours on Thursday and Friday.  It’ll do you good to get away from here for a while.”

 

     “I’ll get away tomorrow when I go to school.”

 

     “How about getting away for some fun this afternoon?”

 

     I wanted to say, “I don’t feel like having fun,” but I knew that would only cause a new round of worries for Papa, so I settled on, “If you don’t mind, I’d just like us to stay here.”

 

     “Okay,” Papa reluctantly agreed. “We can go to Donna’s for supper later.”

 

     “Or we can stay here and eat some of the food Nana Josephine and Nana Marie sent home with us.”

 

     “Trevor...”

 

     “I just wanna stay here today, Papa.  I just...I just wanna stay here and be with you.”

 

     Like Kylee had done a few minutes earlier, Papa sighed.  Whatever concerns he had for me, and I could tell by looking at his face he had plenty, he kept to himself.  He forced a smile.

 

“All right, pick out a movie.  But not Braveheart. I’ve seen it so many times I’ve got Mel Gibson’s lines memorized.”

 

     “How about Lord of the Rings then?”

 

     My father groaned.  Any of the Lord of the Rings films qualify as my second favorite movie, and we’ve seen each of them as much as we’ve seen Braveheart.

 

     “How about anything but Lord of the Rings or Braveheart?”

 

     The oak cabinet next to the TV is filled with movies, so I took pity on Papa and picked out something I knew he liked – Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  When we finished watching that movie, I put in another favorite of his, Raiders of the Lost Ark.  I helped Papa do chores that evening, and then we watched a third movie while we ate supper. 

 

We’re not usually couch potatoes to that extreme, but for reasons I can’t identify, it felt good to be at home with just my father, rather than being with my girlfriend, or having friends over, or being in a crowded theater in Juneau.  Papa had built a fire in the great room’s fireplace; that action reminding me of the many winter Sunday nights we’d passed with a movie when I was younger. 

 

Maybe that’s part of the reason I’d picked Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone after we’d come in from outside.  For just a little while, I was able to pretend Carl wasn’t really dead, and Jake wasn’t in a hospital’s Intensive Care Unit, and that I was nine years old again and curled up next to my father as we sat together in his recliner.  My world revolved around Papa back then, and in my mind, there was no problem he couldn’t fix, make right, or help me work my way through.  The difference now is, I’m far too old, and far too tall, to share the same chair with Papa, and for as much as my world still revolves around him at times, I know he can’t fix everything, or solve all of my problems. I suppose that’s the hardest part about being a parent – realizing that the day has arrived when your child’s problems go beyond a third grade math assignment he needs help with, or giving him the quiet assurances he needs in order to combat homesickness and go away to summer camp, or repairing the derailed chain on his bike.

 

The way Papa looked at me several times throughout that afternoon and evening, made me think he was pretending Carl was still alive, too, and that my problems were no bigger than those of the average nine-year-old boy. I hated the worry lines I saw that tugged his mouth into a frown, and the slump to his shoulders that broadcast how exhausted he was, and the way he had the heating pad resting against the small of his back while we watched TV.  That was the first time I’d seen him give in to the pain his back was still causing him. For the first time, I began to realize that maybe Papa hadn’t been sleeping nearly as well the past few nights as I’d thought.

 

We had just turned the TV off at nine-thirty and were getting ready to go upstairs to bed, when the phone rang.  I answered it, then passed the receiver off to Papa.

 

“It’s Mr. Montgomery.”

 

I wasn’t happy that Mr. Montgomery called. I knew all he was going to do was talk to my father about things that could have waited until their meeting the next morning. I thought Papa needed to be sleeping far more than he needed to be reassuring Mr. Montgomery that, in some way or another, they’d find a competent replacement for Carl.  I saw Papa rub his forehead with his hand, and could tell the last thing he wanted to talk about was replacing Carl.  I hung around the kitchen for a few minutes, but when I realized his conversation was going to last for a while, I caught his eye and mouthed, “Good night.”  Papa moved the receiver to below his chin and said, “ ‘Night, Trev,” while still listening to Mr. Montgomery voice his concerns.

 

Papa finally came upstairs thirty minutes later. I had my light off and was in bed, but when he gave a quiet tap on my door, I said, “I’m still awake.” 

 

When Pops opened my door, I said, “You should have told Mr. Montgomery that whatever he wanted could have waited until tomorrow.”

 

“He’s just worried, Trev.”

 

“Why? Anton’s the assistant chief. Won’t he be the one they name as chief?”

 

The ‘Anton’ I was referring to is Anton Baklanov. He’s been the assistant chief of police for as long as I can remember.

 

All Papa said in reply was, “I don’t know,” though by the tone of his voice I got the impression he knew a lot more than he was saying.  I wondered what was going on, and why what should have been an easy decision to reach, had so many people up in arms.  I hadn’t given it much thought before then, but suddenly I realized that all the calls Papa had taken that week, and the way he’d had to calm everyone down and assure them that a replacement for Carl would be found, meant that maybe there was some reason Anton wouldn’t be named chief of police.

 

“What’s goin’ on?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“But Anton—”

 

“It’s time to call it a night, Trev.  You’ve got school tomorrow, and I’m gonna be in meetings all day, so it’ll be a long one for both of us.”

 

Whatever was happening, I got the impression Papa didn’t want gossip going around Eagle Harbor, so I figured that’s why he wouldn’t fill me in. Not that I’m a gossip, but I suppose he was afraid I’d tell Kylee, or the twins, and then from there, the news would spread.

 

I didn’t pressure Papa to tell me more. I knew sooner or later I’d find out what the scoop was. News of any kind makes its way around Eagle Harbor with lightning speed.

 

I said good night to my father, then watched as he closed my door.  I heard Papa pacing the floor of his room until exhaustion finally claimed me shortly after one in the morning. I don’t know if Pops got any sleep at all that night, and I was left not knowing if he was pacing because his back was bothering him, or pacing because of something Mr. Montgomery had said.

 

Papa already had chores done when I went downstairs at six-thirty, and had the table set for breakfast. 

 

I pulled out my chair and sat down.  “Sorry. Guess I forgot to set my alarm.”

 

“I shut it off.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I didn’t want you getting up this morning before you had to.”

 

“Pops, I’m fine.”

 

“I know. But a guy’s first day back to his normal routine after he’s suffered a concussion can be pretty tiring.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“What about me?”

 

“You had a concussion, too.”

 

“Yeah, but I’ve had a few more knocks on this hard head of mine than you’ve had on yours.” He tossed me a smile. “And let’s keep it that way, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Papa glanced at the clock as he sat across from me. “You could have slept another half hour.”

 

School doesn’t start until eight, so I could have stayed in bed until seven, but since we’ve always had animals to take care of in the morning, I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t up by six during the week.

 

“I suppose,” I acknowledged, “but I’m not tired.  I was ready to get up.”

 

 I wanted to add, “You’re the one who should have stayed in bed,” but I didn’t, because I knew Papa would just deny it anyway.  He looked as tired as he had on Sunday, but before I had a chance to comment on that, Clarice walked in the door. It was difficult to see her, but yet at the same time, it felt good to have her back with us.  Normally, she doesn’t arrive so early, but I think she was anxious to return to work.  I suppose running errands for my father, cleaning our house, doing laundry, and cooking, helps her keep her mind off Carl.

 

Clarice was a little thinner, and I thought she looked pale, but all things considered, she was trying hard to be her old self.  The hugs she gave my father and me lasted longer than usual.  I wondered if by holding onto us, she felt like she was somehow recapturing a little bit of Carl.  My father told me one time that even after someone you love dies, a part of that person will always live on inside of you. That no one who made an impression upon you will merely pass through your life without leaving some bit of wisdom, or humor, or love behind, that you’ll pass onto someone else.  As Clarice hugged me long and hard, I wondered if she was trying to find what part of Carl still lived within me. I wanted to assure her that so much of Carl was within me, and always would be, but I couldn’t have said it without crying.

 

Papa made Clarice sit down and eat with us. We were having our usual weekday breakfast of toast and cereal.  We lingered around the table talking about everything but Carl – news from town, the latest headlines on CNN, and the fact that one of Clarice’s nieces had just found out she was expecting a baby in June.  Clarice was the one who finally noticed the time.

 

“You two better get going or you’ll both be late.”

 

Papa glanced at the clock, but didn’t jump up from the table like I expected him to. But then, I didn’t jump up from the table either.  I wondered if Pops didn’t want to spend the day in meetings where the agenda was to decide how to replace Carl, any more than I wanted to go to school and be asked questions about the accident. Neither one of us voiced those thoughts, though, and when Clarice said, “Go on you two.  I’ll clean up,” Papa and I stood.

 

I was still in my T-shirt and pajama bottoms, and Pops was in the jeans and shirt he’d worn outside. I took the stairs two at a time, with Papa following at a slower pace. I glanced over my shoulder and saw he had a hand pressed against his lower back.

 

“Are you sure you should be goin’ to work?”

 

“I’m okay.”

 

“You look like you’re in pain.”

 

“The muscles have just tightened up ‘cause I was sitting.”

 

“Maybe you should stay home.”

 

“Trev, sitting around at home is only going to make this worse. Back injuries are a double edged sword.”

 

“How?”

 

“Because it hurts to move, but sitting tightens the muscles and stiffens the joints.”

 

“So in other words, it hurts to sit, too.”

 

“It’s not so much the sitting that hurts, it’s the getting up and walking again part that isn’t much fun.”

 

“I...I’m sorry.”

 

Papa must have read something in my eyes that even I wasn’t aware was present – some flicker of guilt, or regret.

 

“Son, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

 

I quickly covered up whatever emotion it was I’d been broadcasting, because I couldn’t stand to see the worry return to his face. 

 

“I mean, I’m sorry you’re in pain.”

 

“I’m okay, Trev.  I’ve been in pain before and lived to tell the story.”

 

I forced a grin, all the while a voice inside me taunted, This is your fault. Your father’s in pain and it’s your fault.

 

“Yeah, but you’re gettin’ kinda old to be—”

 

Papa reached up and snared my wrist. He tugged backwards just enough to let me know his strength was still superior to mine, but not enough to pull me off balance.  He was the one who was grinning now.

 

“Who are you callin’ old?”

 

I laughed. “Did I say anything about someone getting old?”

 

“I didn’t think so.”

 

I saw him grimace when he let me go, so I knew that display of male ego had cost him, but I didn’t figure he’d admit it, and he didn’t.  He followed me the rest of the way up the stairs. I went in my room to get clean clothes for school, while Papa went to his room to get a clean uniform for work. 

 

Pops was still in his room when I reached the hallway.  His office downstairs was originally our home’s master bedroom and bathroom. Papa’s never used it as a bedroom, but we do use that bathroom when we have company, or when, like that morning, we both need to shower at the same time. 

 

“I’ll shower downstairs!” I called, knowing it would be easier on my father if he didn’t have to go downstairs to shower, then climb the stairs again in order to bring his dirty clothes to the hamper in the second floor bathroom.

 

I heard his, “Okay,” as I raced down the stairs.  I had no desire to go to school, but the only way I’d be allowed to stay home was if I said I was sick.  Given my recent injury, I knew if I said I was sick, Papa would take me to see Doctor Benson. Since I had no desire to spend half the day sitting in a doctor’s waiting room, I figured I might as well get to school on time. Arriving late meant I’d serve another detention in Mr. Hammond’s office on Friday, and I had no desire to do that any more than I wanted to sit in Doctor Benson’s office.

 

Papa and I left the house at the same time.  I heard my father ask Clarice if she’d be okay when he hugged her goodbye – something we don’t usually do – and I heard her say in return that she’d be fine. 

 

“I need to keep busy, John. I have things to do here today.  I’ll be all right.”

 

“If you need me for anything, give me a call.”

 

“I will,” Clarice promised.

 

I hugged Clarice as well, told her to have a nice day – which seemed like a stupid thing to say considering her only child had so recently died – then followed my father out of the door.

 

Papa said, “Have a good day,” as he paused in the act of climbing in the Land Rover. I threw my backpack on the passenger seat of my truck.

 

“I will.”

 

“If your head starts bothering you, or you feel sick to your stomach—”

 

Before Carl died, I would have rolled my eyes at my father’s concern and made some smart remark.  But my guilt over how much Papa was already worrying about me, made me give him a smile of reassurance.

 

“I’m fine, Papa. I’ll be okay.”

 

“All right, but call the station if you need me.”

 

“And you call the school if you need me.”

 

Papa gave a self-conscious grin. “Point taken.”

 

“Have a good one, Pops.”

 

“You too.”

 

I followed the Land Rover into Eagle Harbor, but I kept going straight after Papa pulled into the station’s parking lot.  The school was three blocks south of the station, and about a half mile west off Main Street.

 

I parked in the student parking lot, shut the truck off, and just sat there. It didn’t take long for the cold to permeate the cab.  Each time I exhaled, I saw my breath. Neither that, nor the cold biting at the tip of my nose, prompted me to exit the vehicle.  I shoved my hands in the pockets of my letterman’s coat and stared straight ahead, watching as kids entered the building through the main doors.

 

I reached for the ignition.  All I could think of was getting out of there as fast as I could.  I didn’t want to face anyone.  But before I could start the truck, someone knocked on the driver’s side window.  I turned to see Kylee smiling at me.

 

Oh please, go away, I thought. Just go away.

 

Dylan and Dalton were right behind Kylee, and Amanda and Stephanie was standing next to her.  They were all smiling and waving as though they were welcoming a conquering hero back home.

 

Why can’t they see I wanna be left alone?  I just wanna be left alone.

 

I had no choice but to pull the key out of the ignition. I put my key ring in a coat pocket, grabbed my backpack, took a deep breath, and then opened the truck door.

 

Kylee threw her arms around me and whispered, “Oh, Trev, I’ve missed you so much,” while everyone else told me they were glad I was back. 

 

My friends encircled me, leaving me no choice but to move with them toward the building. We seemed to attract other kids like magnets as we walked. The voices calling, “Hey, Trev, it’s good to have you back!” and “Hi, Trevor. Great to see ya’!” ran together until I couldn’t identify who was speaking, or which direction the voices were coming from. A huge white banner painted with blue letters hung in the foyer that read, ‘Welcome Back, Trevor.’ I found out later the girls in my class had made it at Kylee’s house after the funeral on Friday.

 

 When I spotted Jake’s sister, Amber, and his girlfriend, Jenna Van Temple, standing beneath the banner, I thought, Now I’m gonna get exactly what I deserve from someone in this town.  Amber and Jenna will let me have it in front of everyone, and they’ll all finally know I’m not a hero. They’ll all finally know it’s my fault Jake was hurt and Carl is dead.

 

But that’s not what happened. Instead, first Amber hugged me, and then Jenna hugged me, and they both told me they were glad I was back in school. I wanted to shout, “What’s wrong with you people?  Do I have to wear a big scarlet G in order for you to figure it out?” but I didn’t.  It was easier just to drop my eyes to the floor, mumble a few words that could have taken as anything from “Thanks,” to “Yeah, I’m glad to be back too,” and then move through the crowd.

 

The whole day went like that, with students and teachers welcoming me back as though I were some war hero who had saved hundreds of lives in battle, rather than the kid who had killed their town’s police chief.  As I watched all of them pretend I had nothing to do with Carl’s death, I wondered how much longer I could go on playing this game. 

 

Mrs. St. Clair asked me to stay after class when the bell signaling the end of the school day rang. I stood by my desk and nodded as Kylee said softly, “I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

 

Kylee had been my shadow all day.  I couldn’t shake loose of her, and I’d tried hard not to act like I wanted to, even though there were a couple of times when it took all the control I had not to lose my temper and snap, “Would you leave me alone, for crying out loud?”

 

I knew Kylee’s solicitous demeanor was a result of how much she cared for me, but I just wanted to move from class to class without an entourage of clucking females gathered around me.  At any other time I would have killed to have a group of girls paying that much attention to me, but by lunchtime on that Monday, it was wearing thin.  I began wondering if Kylee and her friends planned to follow me around for the rest of my life.

 

I didn’t appreciate Mrs. St. Clair’s solicitous demeanor any more than I appreciated Kylee’s.

 

“I’m so sorry, Trevor.  I know how close you were to Carl.”

 

I looked at the floor and nodded.

 

“You don’t need to worry about turning in an editorial for this week’s paper.”

 

I nodded again.

 

“And about your book...if you end up needing a little more time, I can make an exception given the circumstances.”

 

I finally met my teacher’s gaze. “I don’t want anyone’s pity.”

 

“It’s not pity, Trevor. It’s just that I understand it may be a few weeks before you’re ready to resume work on the book.  You’re carrying a full class load, and you request extra credit at every opportunity.  Not to mention all the other things you’re involved in.  If you need more time—”

 

“Everyone’s involved in a lot of stuff. You aren’t extending their deadlines, are you?”

 

“Well...no. No, I’m not.”

 

“Then don’t extend mine either.”

 

“You’ll be ready to turn your book in by April first, then?”

 

It was the perfect opportunity for me to tell Mrs. St. Clair that there would be no book, but instead of doing so, I nodded.

 

“Yeah. I’ll have it to you by then.”

 

Mrs. St. Clair gave me a motherly smile and patted my right arm.

 

“You go on. I didn’t mean to delay you. I’m sure you’re tired and ready to go home.”

 

“Yeah,” I agreed.  I wasn’t tired, but I was ready to be at home.

 

Doctor Benson wasn’t allowing me to play hockey for two weeks; therefore, I had no after-school practices to attend at the ice rink that was a few blocks down the street.  I could have gone and watched the guys practice, but I had no desire to do that, any more than I felt like watching the matches that were scheduled between Eagle Harbor High and various schools throughout the time period I was on the disabled list. As a co-captain of the team, I probably should have put in an appearance at each practice and game, but Coach Ivanov didn’t say anything about my absence, so in this case, I milked the sympathy factor over the accident for all it was worth. 

 

I drove Kylee home on Monday, even though I just wanted to get away from her. Considering she was waiting for me when I walked out of Mrs. St. Clair’s classroom, it was impossible to avoid her.  Kylee did most of the talking as I headed for her house.

 

“Everyone was so happy to see you today.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Did you feel okay? You didn’t get a headache or anything, did you?”

 

“No.”

 

“What did Mrs. St. Clair want?”

 

“Nothin’.”

 

“Trev...”

 

The plea in Kylee’s voice forced me to turn my head and look at her.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

I gave her a small smile. “Just a little tired.”

 

“So you’re not going to the airport to work?”

 

“No.” I returned my attention to the road. “Doctor Benson said I couldn’t do anything this week other than go to school.”

 

“Good idea.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You never called me last night.”

 

“Sorry. It was after nine when my father got that phone call he was waiting for.”

 

At least that was only half a lie.  Papa hadn’t been waiting for a phone call, but Mr. Montgomery had called after nine on Sunday evening.

 

“I sent you an e-mail, but you never answered it.”

 

“Sorry,” I said again. “I never got on-line yesterday.”

 

Finally, something was coming out of my mouth that was true.

 

Kylee snuggled against my shoulder and smiled up at me. “It was special.”

 

I smiled back, simply because I knew she expected me to.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Make sure you read it when you get home.”

 

“Okay.”

 

I swung the Dodge into Kylee’s driveway. The house was dark, and the garage door closed.  Kylee reached for the passenger door’s handle.

 

“Come on in.”

 

“I can’t.  You’re mom’s not here.”

 

Kylee glanced at the digital display of the clock that’s next to the truck’s radio.

 

“She’ll be home in a few minutes. You can come in.”

 

Kylee’s mother works part time at the Eagle Harbor National Bank, so she can be home when Chandler gets out of school. The high school lets out at three; the grade school at three-thirty.

 

“No, I’d better not.”

 

“Trev, it’s okay. We won’t get in trouble.”

 

I knew Kylee was right.  Though our parents had lain down some ground rules when we’d started going steady that included not being alone in each other’s homes if no adult was present, I was confident neither Mrs. Bonnette nor my father would be upset if Kylee and I were in her house doing homework ten or fifteen minutes before Mrs. Bonnette arrived home. We’d proven ourselves trustworthy since we’d started going steady, so our parents had loosened up on us a bit in recent months.

 

“It’s not that. Getting in trouble, I mean.  I know we won’t.  It’s just that I promised Pops I’d go straight home every day after school this week. He’s...he’s been kinda worried about me.”

 

Well, at least my last sentence wasn’t a lie. Papa hadn’t told me I had to go straight home after school, but he was worried about me.

 

“You can call him from here.  He’ll let you stay if you tell him we’re doing homework, won’t he? If you go straight home, all you’ll be doing is homework anyway, right?”

 

“I guess. But he was pretty firm about it when he said it this morning, and I can’t get a hold of him.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“He’s got meetings all day.”

 

“Well...can’t you call and leave a message for him with someone?”

 

“No, I’d better not.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I already told you. He was pretty firm about it when said I had to come straight home after school.”

 

“Trev—”  

 

“Kylee, look, I can’t help it! It’s not my rule, it’s my father’s!”

 

She backed away from me, as though frightened by my anger.

 

“I...I’m sorry,” Kylee stammered. “I didn’t mean—”

 

God, I just wanted her to get out of my truck so I could go home. I hadn’t meant to yell at her, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her feelings. 

 

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry.  Ky, I didn’t mean to yell.  I’m just...it’s just that I’m tired, okay?”

 

“O...okay.”

 

I gave her the best smile I could muster and reached for her hand. “It was...today was kind of overwhelming, considering it was my first day back at school and all.”

 

She squeezed my hand. “I’m sure it was.”

 

“So am I forgiven?”

 

Her “Sure,” was quiet and sounded uncertain.

 

“You don’t sound sure.”

 

“It’s just that...well, things between us weren’t...”

 

“Weren’t what?”

 

“Weren’t right even before Car...before the accident.”

 

“Weren’t right how?”

 

“You seemed upset, and even when we were together, you seemed like your mind was somewhere else.  And that Saturday night of the snowstorm you wouldn’t come over.”

 

And if I had gone over to Kylee’s that night instead of being at home when Jake pounded on the door, maybe Carl would still be alive.  I didn’t appreciate Kylee reminding me of that fact, even though I know she didn’t do it on purpose, nor was she even aware she’d reminded me of something I found upsetting.

 

“I told you then that my father wouldn’t have let me.”

 

“But you didn’t even try and call him. You could have, but you didn’t.  I just...I didn’t think you wanted to be with me.”

 

“I wanted to be with you,” I lied. “I still want to be with you.”

 

That last part was the truth, though I was beginning to realize that ever since Papa had asked me not to write my book, I’d only wanted to be with Kylee on my own terms.  Which was one reason why I was ready for her to get out of my truck and let me go home.

 

To prove to Kylee that I still wanted to be with her, I unbuckled my shoulder harness, then leaned across the seat and kissed her. The kiss was harder and more forceful than any we’d ever exchanged. Using my body, I pressed her against the passenger side door, causing her long blond hair to bunch up behind her against the window. Then I did something I never had before. I unzipped her coat, slipped my hand inside, and fondled her right breast through her pale blue sweater.

 

Kylee’s eyes opened wide, but she didn’t try to stop me.  She closed her eyes, and kissed me back with more passion than she’d ever used when kissing me in the past. Before things could progress, I spotted her mom’s car coming towards us from down the street. I pulled back, panting for breath, while Kylee did the same. She turned her head to see what had caught my attention and caused me to end our kiss so suddenly. She straightened her hair, zipped her coat, said, “Thanks for the ride,” gave my hand a final squeeze, added, “I love you,” and jumped out of the truck.

 

I waved to Mrs. Bonnette as though I hadn’t just been groping her daughter in the driveway of their home. As I headed down the street, I spotted Chandler walking with a group of kids his age, and waved at him too. It wasn’t until I was halfway to my own house, that I realized my intense show of affection for Kylee hadn’t come from my heart, but rather, had been calculated to get her off my back.  That kind of scared me, and scared me even more when I realized I hadn’t been thinking about what I was doing to her, but instead, just allowing the desires of my body to guide me.  That should have been the only warning I needed. But for whatever reason, I didn’t listen to my common sense when it told me it was time to have an honest talk with Kylee, and let her know all that had been going on in my life since before Carl had died. If I’d done that, maybe she’d still be wearing my ring.

 

Clarice wasn’t at the house when I got there.  I did the chores, then played with the dogs in the snow for a little while. The smell of a warm meal drifted to me as soon as I walked in the back door.  I took off the hiking boots I’d put on that morning, hung up my coat, and entered the kitchen.  I dropped my backpack on the floor as I caught sight of the note Clarice had left on the table.  It stated a pot roast was in the oven, and that the only thing that needed to be done was to slice it, then return it to the oven with the temperature gauge set on Warm.

 

 I looked at the clock. It was five. My father wouldn’t be home for another hour and a half.  Despite that, I set the table, then took the roast out of the oven and used the electric knife to slice it into thin pieces. Potatoes, carrots and onions had cooked with it, making for the kind of meal Papa and I love – everything cooked in one pan, meaning little clean up. 

 

I put the roast back in the oven and set the temperature as Clarice had instructed. I grabbed my backpack, took it up to my room, then went downstairs again so I could check my e-mail.

 

As Kylee had said, she’d e-mailed me on Sunday. It was the kind of long, sentimental letter only girls will send.  She told me she loved me, and that she missed me, and that she hoped things were okay between us, and that she was looking forward to my return to school.  I didn’t answer her, because I figured I’d just proven my love to her in her driveway less than two hours earlier.

 

I hesitated before opening the other e-mail I’d received that was dated Sunday.  This one was from Roy DeSoto. I wondered what he’d said to me, given my emotional outburst over the phone to him about it being my fault Carl’s dead.  I was worried that his e-mail would say he was calling my father to tell him what I’d said, but in the end, I worried for nothing. Uncle Roy’s cool, and I should have known that he’d handle my outburst the way he handles just about everything – kind of laid back and calm, and with a lot of thought given before he takes action.

 

*****

 

Trevor,

 

    If you need to talk about anything at any time, call me.  You can call collect.  Otherwise, e-mail me and let me know when would be a good time to call you. 

 

Uncle Roy

 

*****

 

 

That’s what I like about Uncle Roy.  Like his e-mail, he’s direct and to the point.  He didn’t ask a lot of questions that are none of his business, and he didn’t mention Carl, or what I’d said.  He just let me know he was available if I needed him, and that was it.  Though he didn’t mention my father, I read between the lines and knew Uncle Roy wouldn’t go behind my back and tell Papa what I’d said.  I was pretty sure Uncle Roy would be upfront with me if he were going to do that, and just come right out and say so.  It was hard to know for certain if I was right about that, but I thought I was.

 

I sat there for a few minutes before e-mailing Uncle Roy back. I kept my note to him as brief as his had been to me.

 

 

*****

 

 

Uncle Roy,

 

     Thanks for your concern, and the offer to call you. I’m fine now.  Talk to you later.

 

Trevor

 

*****

 

 

I sent the e-mail, and was proud of the way I’d managed to keep all my tumultuous thoughts to myself. There was so much I could have told Uncle Roy, starting with my disappointment the day Papa had asked me to quit writing my book, to my decision to skip school, to working on the helicopter, to Jake’s arrival the night of the snowstorm, to the accident, to Carl’s death...well, there was a lot I could have said, and though sometimes I wish I had someone to talk to about all of it, most of the time it’s easier just to keep it inside like my father’s doing.

 

When Papa got home at six-thirty, I was in my room doing homework. I went downstairs when I heard the back door shut.  By the time Pops entered the kitchen, I had the roast out of the oven.

 

“Something sure smells good.”

 

“Clarice made a roast.”

 

“Was she gone when you got home from school?”

 

“Yeah.”  I grabbed a plate from the table and filled it. “You look tired,” I said, while Papa limped to the refrigerator to grab the milk.

 

“Long day.”

 

“Lots of meetings?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, as he filled our glasses.

 

I put the plate down in front of my father’s chair, then picked up the other plate and put beef, carrots, and potatoes on it. 

 

“What was decided?”

 

“Nothing yet.”

 

“Oh.” I took the milk from Papa so he didn’t have to walk back to the refrigerator. “But what about Anton? Isn’t he—”

 

“Trev, I really can’t discuss this, okay?”

 

“Sure. Okay.”

 

I wondered what the big secret was.  I wondered if Anton had some skeleton in his closet that made him unqualified to be police chief.  He’s my father’s age, and was born and raised in Eagle Harbor. Anton is quiet, where Carl was boisterous and gregarious.  Anton’s laid back and contemplative, where Carl was quick to make a decision and quick to act. In a lot of ways, the two of them were like my father and Uncle Roy, and thinking about their friendship and working relationship in that light, made me realize why Carl and Anton made such a good pair when it came to keeping law and order in Eagle Harbor.

 

Before my imagination could carry me too far where Anton is concerned – and it was threatening to carry me as far as serial killer, drug runner, wife beater, and child molester, we sat down and Papa asked me about my day at school.

 

“It was fine,” I said, in-between bites of supper.

 

“You felt okay?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I bet everyone was glad ta’ see you.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You don’t sound too happy about that.”

 

“I am.  It was...everyone was nice.”

 

Papa cocked an eyebrow. “What? You didn’t think they would be?”

 

“No...no it’s not that. It’s just that...well, they kind of made a big deal over me.”

 

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. It’s nice to have a big deal made over you once in a while, wouldn’t you say?”

 

“I guess. They just...they got kind of carried away.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Some of the girls...Kylee, Stephanie, Amanda, Jenna, and the rest of ‘em from my class...they made a banner that was hanging in the foyer that said ‘Welcome back, Trevor.’ ”

 

“That was nice of ‘em.”

 

“Yeah. Nice. Everyone was...nice.”

 

Papa chuckled. “Did you want them to be mean?”

 

“No. I just wanted ‘em to be honest.”

 

I stood and carried my plate to the garbage can. I stepped on the lever that allowed the lid to raise, and scraped my food into the trash.  Papa turned in his chair.

 

“Trev—”

 

“I’ve got a lot of homework to do. I need to get going on it.”

 

“But what did you mean by—”

 

“Nothing. I didn’t mean anything by it.” I put my plate and utensils in the dishwasher. “Like I said, it was nice. Everyone was nice. I’ve got homework to do.”

 

I was upstairs before Papa could question me further. I thought he might follow me, but he didn’t. I heard him cleaning up the kitchen long before he should have been done eating, which led me to conclude his food had gone in the garbage can, too, then heard the sound of the television.

 

I’d closed my door, but because I hadn’t turned on my stereo, I was able to hear the phone ring in Papa’s bedroom a few minutes before nine that night.  I didn’t race to answer it, but did crack my door open enough to stick my head into the hall in order to determine if the call was for me.

 

I heard Papa say, “Oh...hi, Roy,” with about the same amount of enthusiasm I was using to greet Kylee when she called.

 

“No...no, it’s not a bad time. I was just sitting here watching TV.”

 

At that, the sound coming from the TV ceased, leading me to conclude Papa had muted it.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

I never realized how much my father and I sound alike – not only the tonal quality of our voices, but even the way we sound when we’re lying – until I heard him assure Uncle Roy again, “I’m okay.”

 

Because I was hearing only one side of the conversation, I had to guess at what Uncle Roy was saying, but it wasn’t too hard based on my father’s words. Right away, I surmised that Uncle Roy must have called Papa at the station that day.

 

“Yeah...yeah, I got the message. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you back. I was tied up in meetings all day.”

 

Papa didn’t attempt to explain why he hadn’t called Uncle Roy since arriving home, and knowing Uncle Roy, he was too polite to ask.

 

There was a lengthy pause on my father’s part, and then, “Uh...listen...I heard...Trevor told me he called you the other night.”

 

At this point, Uncle Roy must have said something about hoping that I hadn’t gotten in trouble for calling him, because Papa responded with,

 

“No, no. He didn’t get in trouble.”

 

Next, Uncle Roy must have brought up the reason for my call.

 

“Nah. Just a little bump on the head. I’m fine.”

 

Then Uncle Roy must have asked about his back.

 

“My back? It’s fine. Little sore, but no big deal.”

 

That was interesting, considering he’d been limping when he walked in the door.

 

Uncle Roy evidently extended his sympathies over Carl’s death next.

 

“Uh...thanks. Yeah...it’s been...it’s been a difficult time.”

 

Before Uncle Roy had a chance to say anything else, Papa ended the call.

 

“Listen, Roy, I hate to cut this short, but it’s been a long day, and I was just getting’ ready to call it a night.  Ya’ mind if I call you back one day this week?”

 

Of course, Uncle Roy was too nice to say no. Papa told him goodbye and hung up the phone in what seemed like a hurry to me, which only reaffirmed that he has no desire to talk about Carl’s death, or to relive what happened that night to cause it. Papa hadn’t told Uncle Roy that I’d been hurt, too. That fact alone made a loud and clear statement to me that my father didn’t want Roy asking him any more questions than were absolutely necessary.

 

I quietly closed my door and softly banged my head against it while whispering, “I’m so sorry you’re ashamed of me, Papa. I’m so sorry.”

 

I wasn’t asleep when my father tapped on my door that night, but I pretended to be.  I was lying on my right side with my back to him when he stepped into the room. He stood over me a few seconds, brushed a hand across my shoulder, and then exited.

 

I didn’t sleep well, but neither did Papa. I heard him pacing the floor of his room again, then heard him go downstairs about one-thirty that morning. Just like on Monday, when I arrived at the table for breakfast on Tuesday, Papa had already done chores, and had the cereal and toast ready.

 

The rest of the week followed a similar pattern. Neither Papa nor I were eating enough, or getting enough sleep, though I think I was hiding those facts better from him than he was from me.  After school on Wednesday, I listened to a message on the answering machine for Papa from Uncle Roy. I told Papa that night, “Uncle Roy left a message on the machine. He wants you to call him back.”  Papa said he would, but I was pretty certain he didn’t, and even more certain of that fact when I listened to another message from Uncle Roy after school on Friday, in which he said the same thing he had on Wednesday.

 

“Hey, Johnny, it’s Roy. I’ve left a couple of messages for you at the station, but I guess you’ve been pretty busy because I haven’t heard from you. Give me a call tonight if you can.”

 

I told Papa about that message too, but he nodded in a distracted sort of way, which could mean he was only half listening to me, or could mean he was ignoring Uncle Roy’s attempts to get in touch with him. For reasons I can’t explain, I think it’s the latter.

 

I took Kylee home every day after school last week, but continued to avoid accepting an invitation into her house by claiming Papa wanted me to come straight home and rest. I knew this excuse wasn’t going to carry me forever, and it was on Friday that my luck ran out.

 

Kylee had to work that night at Mr. Ochlou’s, so she didn’t have time to linger in my truck.  Our passionate exchange from Monday hadn’t been repeated, because Mrs. Bonnette had been home the rest of the week by the time we got there.  I thought that was for the best, but I could tell Kylee was kind of bummed about it. 

 

“Trev, I don’t have to work tomorrow night. Why don’t we have dinner and see a movie?”

 

“I’m not sure if Papa will let me.  He might want me to stay home.”

 

Kylee sighed with exasperation. “He’s let you go to school all week, and you’ve been fine.  Trevor, I know your father better than that.  He’ll let you take me to dinner and a movie.”

 

I stared out the windshield.  “Yeah...yeah, I guess.”

 

“You guess what? That your pops will let you take me, or that you want to take me?”

 

“I wanna take you.”

 

“Good. Then what time will you pick me up?”

 

Whoever said women are sneaky and manipulative was right.

 

“Uh...at seven?  We can eat first, then see the nine o’clock show?”

 

“Sure.”

 

As long as we didn’t go to Juneau for a nine o’clock movie, but rather saw one in Eagle Harbor, I could have Kylee home by her eleven-thirty curfew.

 

“Are you working tomorrow?”

 

“I’m...I’m not sure. Depends...depends on if Gus needs me or not.”

 

Or will still allow me to step foot at the airport.

 

I hadn’t seen Gus since Carl’s funeral, and had no idea if I was still employed or not. It hadn’t been difficult to avoid the issue last week. Since I wasn’t allowed to play hockey, I pretended that I assumed I wasn’t allowed to go to work either, and since Papa never said otherwise, I just kept going home after school. Sooner or later I was going to have to face Gus though, and I’d been thinking Saturday would be the day.

 

Before I could dwell on whether I was going to face Gus the next day or not, Kylee said, “Jake’s out of Intensive Care.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Amber said Jake’s out of Intensive Care.  He’s in a regular room. Maybe we can go see him on Sunday.”

 

My voice was soft and far away as I saw Jake’s body fly through the air as clearly as I’d seen it that Saturday night in late November.

 

“Yeah...yeah, maybe.”

 

I jumped when I felt Kylee’s hand on mine. 

 

“Trev?”

 

I finally turned to look at her.

 

“Yeah?”

“Are you all right?”

 

“Sure...yeah, I’m fine.”

 

“So, do you think we can go visit Jake on Sunday?”

 

I swallowed hard, not certain I could face Jake any more than I was certain I could face Gus.

 

“I...I’ll have to ask my father.  I can’t make any promises, okay?”

 

Kylee must have sensed my uncertainty, because her own reply of, “All right, if you say so,” came out sounding like she didn’t believe that I had any intention of asking Papa if I could visit Jake.

 

An uncomfortable silence enveloped the cab of my truck.  Kylee finally sighed in a way that sounded like she was growing impatient with these dark moods of mine she couldn’t figure out the source of.

 

“Trev, if you really don’t wanna take me out tomorrow night, I...I understand. It’s okay.  I—”

 

The tears in her eyes just about ripped my heart out.  I felt bad for how often I’d confused and hurt her in recent weeks, and rushed to make things right between us.

 

“I wanna take you out, Kylee. I do.”  I leaned over and kissed her with almost as much force as I’d used on Monday.  I didn’t unzip her coat, but I did press my body hard against her in a way that was pretty foolish, considering we were parked in her driveway and her mother was home.  When we broke apart, I took a moment to catch my breath, then said, “Wear your best dress.”

 

“What?”

 

“Tomorrow night. Wear your best dress.”

 

“Why?”

 

“ ‘Cause I’m taking you to the Seaside Inn.”

 

Kylee’s eyes widened.  The Seaside Inn was for dinner before the homecoming game or the Valentine’s formal.  It wasn’t for a couple of teenagers on a budget on a regular old Saturday night.

 

“Trev, you haven’t worked at all this week. Can you afford that?”

 

“I can afford it.  I’ll make reservations for seven as soon as I get home.”

 

Kylee kissed my cheek.  “I love you.”

 

“Love you, too.  See you about six-thirty tomorrow night.”

 

“See you then.”

 

Kylee jumped out of my truck just as Chandler walked up the driveway.  I waved to him, then watched the two of them enter the house together.  I backed my truck onto the street and headed for home. 

 

Like I promised Kylee I would, I called and made a reservation as soon as I entered the house. I remember thinking it was strange that I felt no excitement about our upcoming date, that would include dinner at the best restaurant in Eagle Harbor.  I recognized I was forcing myself to do this just to please Kylee, rather than because I really wanted to.

 

I listened to the answering machine next, and it was then that I heard Uncle Roy’s message.  I wrote on the erasable board that hung next to the refrigerator, Uncle Roy Called, so I’d remember to tell my father, then went upstairs to change my clothes. I had the house to myself, since Clarice had worked for just a couple of hours in the morning when she ran some errands for Papa.  He hadn’t taken a day off all week, and though by Wednesday I thought he looked like he needed one, he just shrugged and said, “I have a lot goin’ on at work,” when I mentioned it.

 

I did the chores, played with dogs for a while, and then went back in the house.  I rummaged around in the refrigerator Clarice had cleaned on Thursday.  She’d thrown out the leftover food from the funeral lunch, but we were still well stocked with leftovers from the meals Clarice had made during the week.  I put a pan of baked chicken in the oven to warm, along with a pan of lasagna we’d barely touched. It took me less than five minutes to set the table. After that was done, I went up to my room, turned on my stereo, and started my homework. It was after seven before Papa got home, and he looked more exhausted than he had all week.

 

I got supper out of the oven, while Pops went upstairs to wash his hands and change out of his uniform.  He came down wearing faded blue jeans, and a dark green shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  I used to tease him about that, and tell him that if he was going to roll his sleeves up, he might as well put a short sleeve shirt on.  It’s weird, though, because as I’ve gotten older, I’ve found that I do the same thing. It must be one of those habits you pick up from years of living with the same person. Or maybe, like Clarice has said sometimes when she’s teasing me, I’m imitating my father whether I want to be or not.

 

I was seated in my chair waiting for Papa when he entered the kitchen.

 

“Feels good to be outta that uniform.”

 

     “You’ve put in a lot of hours this week. Probably feels like you’re living at the station.”

 

     “This week it does,” Papa acknowledged as he put a piece of chicken on his plate before passing the pan to me.

 

     “Uncle Roy called.”

 

     That’s when I got the distracted nod. Papa put a spoonful of lasagna on his plate – far less than he normally eats, but didn’t say a word about the message I’d given him.

 

     “You’re supposed to call him.”

 

     Pops nodded again.

 

     I waited, but when he didn’t say anything, I decided I’d done my job by delivering the message, and the rest was up to my father.  If he didn’t call Uncle Roy back, at least no one could blame me for not passing the message along.

 

     “Are you still working tomorrow?”

 

     “Why wouldn’t I be?” Papa said. “You know I’m on-duty until Sunday morning.”

 

     “I know. I just thought that you’d...well, you look tired. I thought maybe you’d have Phil cover for you and then take the weekend off.”

 

     “No. It’s my responsibility. Besides, Phil covered for me enough last week.”

 

     I didn’t hear any incrimination in Papa’s tone, but it didn’t matter. I knew if it hadn’t been for what I’d done, Phil wouldn’t have had to work extra hours the previous week so my father could stay home with me. It was another time when I wanted to shout, “Quit ignoring the elephant in the living room and just come right out and tell me it’s all my fault! Tell me I screwed up!  Tell me it’s my fault Carl’s dead!”

 

     I was so lost in my own thoughts, that I didn’t hear my father’s question until he asked it a second time.

 

     “Trev?  I just asked you what you’re doin’ tomorrow.”

 

     “Oh.  I...well...I might go out to Gus’s and see...see if he still wants me to...still needs me to work for him.”

 

     “Why wouldn’t he?”

 

     “I...I don’t know.  Guess...guess he probably does,” I mumbled with downcast eyes. “So anyway, I’m goin’ to the airport for a while.”

 

“Sure you feel up to that?”

 

“Working for Gus?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

I swallowed hard and gave a tight nod.  “I feel up to it.”

 

“All right.”

 

I waited for Papa to say something more, to give me an indication of how Gus would react to my presence, but he didn’t. He didn’t seem to be tuned into the fact that I was nervous and unsure of myself, something he could usually pick up on in a matter of seconds.

 

     “Make sure you stop at the clinic first,” my father instructed as he picked at his food. “Mark wants to take out those stitches. He’ll only be there until noon.”

 

     “Okay.”

 

     Papa had seen Doctor Benson on Wednesday and had his stitches removed. He’d told me that night I was supposed to see Doctor Benson on Saturday morning.

 

     I shoved my lasagna around on my plate without taking a bite, just like my father was doing. 

 

     “I noticed my suit is gone. Did you have Clarice take it to the drycleaners today?”

 

     Papa nodded. “Mine and yours both.”

 

     “Oh.”

 

     “Why?”

 

     “Kylee and I have a date tomorrow night. I’m taking her to the Seaside Inn.”

 

     For the first time since he’d come home, Papa smiled.  That act alone indicated to me he was happy to hear that things were good between Kylee and me.

 

     “That’s nice, Trev. That’s real nice. Have a good time.”

 

     “Yeah, sure.  We will.”

 

     “You don’t sound too enthusiastic about it.”

 

     “I am,” I assured, though by the look my father gave me, I hadn’t done a very good job of putting a false note of excitement in my voice.

 

     “Uh...anyway, since my suit’s at the cleaners, can I borrow one of your sport coats?”

 

     “Sure.”

 

     My father’s sport coats are a little broad for me in the shoulders, but not enough that it’s really noticeable. The arm length, and length of the coat itself, is just right.

 

     “And maybe one of your ties, if I don’t find one in my closet that goes with my gray pants and that burgundy dress shirt Kylee gave me last Christmas?”

 

     “That’s fine. Borrow anything you need.”

 

     “Thanks.”

 

     My father reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, opened it, and handed me two twenty-dollar bills along with a ten.

 

     “What’re these for?”

 

     “Use ‘em for your dinner tomorrow night.”

 

     “Why?”

 

     “ ‘Cause I want you to.”

 

     “But I have money saved.”

 

     “I know you do.”

 

     “But—”

 

     “Trev, if you haven’t figured it out by now, when your old man hands you money, you’d better take it before he changes his mind.”

 

      I gave Papa a weak smile as I pocketed the bills. “Okay. Thanks.”

 

     “Welcome.”

 

     Silence lingered between us a moment as Papa studied my face.

 

     “Trev, what’s wrong?”

 

     “Wrong?”

 

     “Yeah.  What’s bothering you?”

 

     “Nothing.”

 

     “For a guy who’s taking the most popular girl in his class to the nicest restaurant in town, and has just been handed enough money to pay for the meal, you don’t seem very happy.”

 

     I shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong.”

 

     “Trevor...”

 

     He didn’t say any more than my name, then waited patiently for me to answer.  So many thoughts swirled in my head, starting with, “Papa, what’s it mean when you don’t have any interest in all the things that you used to like to do?  What’s it mean when you resent your girlfriend insisting that you spend time with her?  What’s it mean when you realize you’re expressing affection you don’t really feel, and that you’re carrying it farther than you ever have before with little concern about the consequences?”

 

     I had just decided to take the plunge and ask all those things...or at least ease into the conversation with the first question and see where it went from there, when the phone rang.  

 

     I answered it, then handed it to Papa.

 

     “It’s Anton.”

 

     Papa must not have wanted me to hear their conversation, because he took the receiver and went to his office with it.  I sat at the table for a few minutes, but when Papa didn’t return, I finally stood. I scraped the food on our plates into the garbage can, then put the plates and silverware in the dishwasher.  Five minutes later, I had the table wiped off and the leftovers in the fridge.  Papa came into the kitchen and put the receiver in its base.

 

“I have to go out for a while.”

 

     “Why?”

 

     “Anton wants ta’ talk to me.”

 

     “But he just did talk to you.”

 

     Papa smiled as he gave me a slight tap on the head with his knuckles. “I know.”  He went to the laundry room and took his winter coat out of the closet.  “I’ll be at Anton’s house for an hour or so. I should be home by ten.”

 

     “Okay.”

 

     “If you need me, call. His number’s in the address book.”

 

     “All right.”

 

     It’s not like my father to forget he was concerned for me, but that night he seemed to.  If he remembered that he’d been trying to find out what was bothering me, he didn’t bring it up before leaving the house, which led me to conclude he either had a lot on his mind, or was as sick of my mood swings as Kylee was.

 

     I wanted to ask him to stay home so we could talk, and I even started to by saying, “Papa...” but when he said “What?” I noticed he had his coat and shoes on, and was ready to leave. So instead of keeping him from someone who needed him, I said, “Nothing. It’s not important.  See ya’ later.”

 

     Papa said, “See ya’ later, kiddo,” and left the house.  I stood at the window and watched until I could no longer see the Land Rover’s lights.  I went upstairs, finished my homework, and was in bed and pretending to be asleep when Papa came in a few minutes before ten.  By then, my desire to talk to him had left me, because I knew he had more important things to worry about than a teenager who had caused all of his own problems anyway.

 

     Pops and I left the house at the same time on Saturday morning.  I stopped at the clinic like I promised I would.  Because I got there right when they opened at eight o’clock, I was able to see Doctor Benson without waiting.  By eight-thirty my stitches had been removed, and the doctor was satisfied I was back to full health. I left the clinic, and with a good deal of reservations, headed for the airport.

 

     I’m not sure what to think of my day with Gus. It could have been worse, let’s put it that way. He acted happy to see me, and welcomed me back as though he was expecting me to continue my employment with him, but when I saw he had a plane engine on the work bench and asked if he wanted me to help him with it, he told me no.

 

     “How about cleaning my office for me today, Trev?”

 

I felt my cheeks burn red with embarrassment.  Why was I so foolish as to think Gus would let me work on an engine after what had happened?

 

“Yeah...yeah, sure,” I agreed, and hurried out of the hanger.

 

I didn’t go near the planes the rest of the day, and when Gus took one up after lunch, he didn’t ask me to go with him.   

 

I left the airport at four. Gus came into the office as I was putting my coat on.  He told me it had been a slow week, and that he didn’t need me to work on Sunday.

 

“Besides, I’m going with Susie to pick up Dirk tomorrow. He’s finally coming home.”

 

I dropped my eyes, not willing to look at Gus when he said that.

 

“Good,” I mumbled. “Glad to hear it.”

 

“Yeah, me too.  He was lucky the same thing didn’t happen to him as happened to Car...” Gus must have realized how that sounded, and quickly covered for it by saying, “We’re lucky all the way around. The kids are excited that their papa’s coming home.”

 

I nodded, then nodded once more when Gus said I could start working after school again on any day I didn’t have hockey practice or a match.

 

“Doctor Benson won’t let me play hockey for another week yet, which basically means I won’t be playing again until after winter break, so I can work every day after school this coming week...if you want me to, that is.”

 

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I want you to?”

 

It was then that I realized Gus, like my father, was just going to ignore everything that had happened that Saturday night.  As hard as it is to think about having the cold, honest truth thrown in my face, I’ve learned that would be a lot easier than having the truth denied over and over again.

 

“No...no reason,” I said, then added, “I gotta get going.  See ya’ after school on Monday.”

 

“See ya’ then, Trev. And be careful driving home. The snow’s really starting to come down out there.”

 

It had started snowing about two o’clock. It hadn’t amounted to much at first, but the wind had picked up, and with that, the snow had intensified.

 

I huddled into my coat as I ran for my truck. As snow landed in my hair, I thought of the Saturday night two weeks earlier when it was snowing, and gave an involuntary shudder.  This storm wasn’t as bad as that one had been, but it was dark, and my windshield wipers were set on high, and I had to drive fifteen miles slower than I normally would have.  All those factors combined brought back memories I wanted nothing more than to put behind me for good.

 

The memories only hit me harder when I pulled in the driveway and saw Clarice’s vehicle.  Just like that Saturday night, my father was on-duty, Clarice was in the house, and I had chores to do.  When I got inside after feeding the animals, Clarice was sitting in the great room knitting. She had the TV on, but muted the sound when I walked in.  I pointed at the balls of pastel yarn setting on the floor beside the chair.

 

“What’s all that for?”

 

“I’m making a blanket for Rachel’s baby.”

 

“But it’s not due for six more months.”

 

“I know, but Rachel’s so excited.  I promised her I’d make the baby a layette.”

 

“What’s a layette?”

 

“Well, it can be a number of things actually. Sometimes the term refers to a full set of furniture for the baby’s room, but in this case, it refers to blankets, hats, mittens, and sweaters.”

 

“Oh. Sounds like something Rachel will appreciate.”

 

“I think so. The thought of a first baby is very exciting for a young mother.  I...”

 

Clarice reached up and wiped a tear from her eye.

 

“Clarice?”

 

She waved a hand at me as though dismissing her emotions.

 

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” She looked down at her work as her knitting needles clacked together. In a quiet, far away voice she said, “I always wanted a houseful of children.”

 

Without thinking that my question was personal, as well as being none of my business, I asked, “Why didn’t you have them?”

 

A smile played on Clarice’s lips, yet I could hear the tears in her voice.  “Evidently, God thought Carl was all I could handle.”

 

 I took that to mean Clarice and her husband had wanted more children, but that she’d never been able to get pregnant again after having Carl.

 

I watched as Clarice’s shoulders started to shake. Her knitting fell to her lap as sobs overtook her.  I stood there with tears running down my face. I felt like I was absorbing Clarice’s pain with my own, and wondered how it was possible to hurt so much. Guilt hit me from all sides.  I’d taken this woman’s son from her, and yet here she was, in my father’s house, her sole purpose to take care of me.  If there were any way I could have traded places with Carl...given him back to his mother, I would have.  Instead, I knelt on the carpeting and took Clarice in my arms.  I turned my head so she wouldn’t know I was crying.  She clung to me and sobbed, “I miss him so much, Trevor. I loved my boy so much. I loved him so much.”

 

“I know,” I whispered, because if I’d spoken any louder she would have been able to tell I was crying. “I know. I’m sorry, Clarice. I’m so sorry.”

 

I’m sure Clarice thought I was merely extending sympathy, as opposed to thinking I was apologizing for being the one who had killed Carl.  I let her go on thinking that while I held her.  She finally dried her eyes, pulled away from me, patted my arm, and said, “I stopped at the station and talked to your papa. He said you have a date tonight.”

 

“Maybe I should cancel it. I could stay here with you

and—“

 

     “Don’t you dare cancel a date to stay here with me, young man.”

 

     “But—”

 

     “Honey, I’m fine. Go with Kylee and have fun.”

 

“It’s snowing pretty hard. I’m not sure if we should go...you know, because of the roads and all.”

 

“Why don’t you call your papa and get his opinion on that?”

 

At this point, I surmised that my father had told Clarice I needed to have some fun, and that she wasn’t to allow me to back out of my date.

 

“I...I guess I could.”

 

“You do that.  And if he says it’s all right for you and Kylee to go, then take your time getting ready.  I took supper to the station a little while ago so you don’t have to.”

 

“I could have done that.”

 

“I know, but it was nice to see everyone. They’ve all been so kind, and your papa has been such a big help to me.  Did he tell you he’s going to take care of selling Carl’s vehicles so I don’t have to?”

 

“No, he didn’t mention it.”

 

“He’s going to put an ad in both the Juneau and Eagle Harbor papers on Monday.”

 

I thought it was nice of Papa to take charge of selling Carl’s Expedition and Corvette, but on top of everything else he was doing, I wondered how he’d find time to talk to every person who called in answer to the ad, and who then wanted to be shown one, or both of, the vehicles. Clarice has plenty of brothers and nephews. I thought one of them should be taking care of this, but I kept my opinion to myself.

 

“Your papa’s also going to...”

 

“Going to what?” I asked, when Clarice let her sentence trail off.

 

“He’ll...he’ll go through Carl’s things for me. I...I tried to, but it’s...it’s difficult right now.  But it has to be done before I move, so John said he’d do it.  I told him to take the clothes to the Goodwill store in Juneau, and to pack everything else in boxes.  Colette said John can put the boxes in her attic, and then I can go through them when I’m ready to.”

 

Again, I wanted to suggest that one of Clarice’s nephews do this.  Carl was a lot closer to my father than he was to some of his cousins. I knew cleaning out Carl’s clothes and personal items would be hard on Papa, even though he’d never admit it. And with the way his back was bothering him, the last thing he needed to be doing was hauling boxes up to an attic.

 

“I can help Papa.”

 

“That’s nice of you to offer, love, but I think he’s going to do it as soon as he can take a day off. You’ll probably be in school.”

 

“Probably,” was all I said in return.  The phone rang, ending further conversation. I was hoping it was my father calling to say I should stay home, but when I picked up the extension in the office, it was Kylee.

 

Clarice had turned the sound back up on the TV; therefore, she couldn’t hear what I was saying.

 

“Hi,” Kylee said after my initial greeting. “Are you almost ready?”

 

“Not yet. I haven’t been inside very long. I worked at the airport today, then did the chores.”

 

I could hear the excitement in her voice, and pictured her smile.  “Well, I’m ready. I can’t wait to see you.”

 

“Yeah...uh...about that. I...Ky, I just called my father and he’s concerned because the roads aren’t very good.  I think...uh...he thinks that maybe we should cancel our plans and reschedule for another time.”

 

“But it’s not snowing very hard out right now.”

 

She was right. Though it was still snowing, it wasn’t coming down as hard and heavy as it had been when I first left the airport.  Between the fact that my truck is a four-wheel drive, has sandbags in the bed for weight so it won’t fishtail on slick roads, and that I’ve proven to my father I’m responsible behind the wheel, I knew Papa wouldn’t make me cancel my date if I called and asked about it.

 

“I know, but—”

 

“Trevor, you started to say ‘I think’ and then you stumbled over that and said, ‘he thinks’ – now which is it?  Does your father think we shouldn’t go out, or do you think we shouldn’t go out?”

 

“No...no, it’s not like that at all.”

 

“Then what is it like? You keep telling me there’s nothing wrong between us, so prove it.  Pick me up like you said you would and take me to the Seaside Inn. I’m waiting, Trevor.  If you’re not here by quarter to seven, then I’ll know...” she took a deep, hiccoughed breath that sounded like a series of sobs. “I’ll know it’s over between us.”

 

And with that, she hung up.  I stared at the phone. My gut instinct told me not to allow Kylee to pressure me into doing something I didn’t want to, yet the part of me that’s still a seventeen year old kid, didn’t want the most popular girl in Eagle Harbor High School to break up with me.

 

I put the receiver in the cradle, then shut off the light and walked out of the office. Clarice had returned to her knitting. She glanced up as I passed through the great room.

 

“Who was that?”

 

“Kylee.”

 

“Are you two still going out this evening?”

 

“Yeah,” I acknowledged, as I climbed the stairs to my room.

 

Thirty minutes later, I was ready to go.  Clarice said I looked handsome, but I shrugged off the compliment with a quiet, “Thanks.”  At any other time I would have been happy to know that I passed a woman’s inspection – after all, like most guys, I don’t always match a tie to a sport coat in the way I should, but last night I didn’t care how I looked.  I was just going through the motions as I dressed in my gray trousers, burgundy shirt, and got my father’s gray and burgundy tweed sport coat from his closet along with a tie stripped in burgundy, navy blue, and gray.

 

I slipped on my black dress coat, then bent and kissed Clarice’s cheek.

 

“I’ll be home by midnight.”

 

“All right. Drive carefully.”

 

“I will.”

 

Memories of two weeks earlier flashed through my head. I recalled Clarice going to bed with her book, and me watching TV as the snow came down outside.  Now I stepped out into another snowstorm, though this one considerably less severe than the one that had changed my life, and so many other lives, forever.

 

I managed to do all the right things when I got to Kylee’s.  I went to the door, then stood in the living room making small talk with Kylee’s father until she appeared.  I took off my coat when Mrs. Bonnette asked me to, and stood with Kylee while Mr. Bonnette took several pictures of us as though we were going to the prom, rather than just out for dinner. I even managed to force a laugh when Chandler wormed his way in-between us so he could be in a picture, too.

 

I was glad when we got out of there, but was smart enough not to voice that. I just wanted the night to be over, and found myself hoping we were delayed at the Seaside Inn just long enough so that we wouldn’t make it to the movie on time.  If that happened, I could take Kylee home early and be done with it.

 

Because we had reservations, we got seated right away.  Dalton busses tables at the restaurant, and he waved to us from across the room when he spotted Mrs. Thomas, the hostess, leading us to a table. 

 

     After we ordered our meal, Dalton managed to work his way over to us. He didn’t hang around very long, because Mr. Fitzsimmons, the guy who owns the Seaside Inn, is a lot stricter with his employees than Mr. Ochlou is.  Once Dalton left, Kylee and I were alone with nothing but a lit candle glowing between us. The dining room was dimly lit, and seemed even darker because of the gray, weathered boards that made up the walls.

 

     Kylee reached over and squeezed my hand.

 

     “Are you glad we’re here?”

 

     I smiled because I knew she expected me to. “Yeah.”

 

     “I’m sorry for what I said on the phone.”

 

     “That’s okay. I’m sorry too.”

 

     Kylee released my hand when our salads were brought to the table. From then on, we were kept busy eating, which meant I could get away with saying, “Huh uh,” or “Yeah,” or “Nope,” in response to her constant chatter about school and friends.

 

     There were no delays at the Seaside Inn that night, and we were done in plenty of time to see the movie. The movie was out at quarter to eleven, leaving Kylee forty-five minutes until her curfew.

 

     We sat in my truck shivering for a few minutes as it warmed up, and the defroster melted the snow off the windshield. As I put the truck in drive, Kylee said, “I don’t have to be home for a while. Let’s go to the National Forest.”

 

     Sometimes in the summer we park in a parking area of the forest, even though our parents have told us not to.  I’m not sure if they’re worried about us taking things too far, or if they’ve read too many stories about crazed killers running around in isolated areas who prey on teenagers. Either way, we’ve parked in the forest and necked a few times, but never in the winter.

 

     “It’s awfully cold tonight, and the roads out there’ll probably be covered with snow.”

 

     “I know, but if we go to the first parking area it’ll probably be fine. Just for a few minutes, Trev.  The snow is so pretty, and the moon is full and so bright...we won’t stay long.”

 

     Against my better judgment, I did as Kylee asked.  She’s a hopeless romantic, and I guess I just wanted to make her happy after so many weeks of making her miserable.

 

     Ten minutes later, I was pulling onto a paved single lane road that led to the parking area Kylee was talking about.  Mountains rose in front of us, and snow covered pines towered all around. The place was deserted, like I figured it would be.  I left my truck running, because it was too cold outside to turn it off. The cab would have been freezing in a matter of minutes.

 

     We made small talk for a few minutes, me once again saying, “Uh huh,” and “Yeah,” to Kylee’s comments about the beauty of the night. She unbuckled her seatbelt and snuggled against me, laying her head on my shoulder. When I didn’t unbuckle my seatbelt, she reached across my lap and did it for me.  She must have been able to feel the way I’d distanced myself, and took it to mean I was pulling away from her. I wasn’t. Or at least I don’t think I was.  I just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want to love anyone any more, because if you lose that person, it hurts too much.

 

     Kylee ran a hand over the front of my coat. “Trev, what’s wrong?”

 

     “Nothing.”

 

     “You...you haven’t been yourself all night.”

 

     “I’m fine.”

 

     “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

 

     “I’m okay.”

 

     “You want to break up with me, don’t you?”

 

     Suddenly, I was so tired of her seeking reassurance that things were all right between us, that I decided the best way to put her mind at ease was to show her how much I loved her. I reached over, unzipped her coat, and slipped my hand inside. When she didn’t object, but instead moaned her approval as I massaged her breasts through the thin material of her dress, I turned my body sideways and pressed her down into the seat.

 

     “No,” I murmured, as I crushed my lips to hers. “I don’t wanna break up with you.”

 

     “I know it’s been difficult for you,” she panted as she moved beneath me in a way that was nothing but inviting.  “I know Carl’s death has—”

 

     And that’s when all I wanted her to do was shut up.  I didn’t want to hear about Carl, or be asked if I was okay, or be told I wasn’t myself.  I pressed harder into Kylee, and paid no attention to the fact that she was suddenly trying to buck me off. My hands were all over her as I forced my tongue into her mouth and lifted her dress to her hips. 

 

     “I want you, Ky,” I panted. “I want you so bad.”

 

     “No,” she cried, struggling to pull her dress down. “No, Trevor! Not now! Not like this.”

 

     I ignored her and kept touching places I shouldn’t have been touching without her consent.

 

     “Trevor, no!” She got her hands on my chest and gave a mighty shove. “Trevor, I said no!”

 

     I could have overpowered her, but thank God that shove to my chest, combined with the fear in her voice, brought me to my senses. I sat up, panting, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” until I was too hoarse to say it again.

 

Kylee’s voice quivered as she straightened her clothes. “I think...I think you’d better take me home.”

 

My voice was as unstable as hers.  “Yeah...uh...yeah. Yeah, sure.”

 

My hands shook on the wheel the entire drive back to her house.  Kylee got out of my truck as fast as she could.  She didn’t say goodbye, just ran for the door with tears streaming down her face. The house was dark with the exception of a dim lamp glowing in the living room, so I knew her parents were in bed. I figured they would still be awake and listening for her to come in, but whether she would tell them what happened, or go straight to her room, I had no idea.

 

I waited in the driveway a few minutes. When the house went dark and Kylee’s father didn’t come out to kill me, I knew she’d gone to bed without giving her parents more than an, “I’m home,” if she’d even said that much.

 

I backed onto the street.  I thought about stopping at the station as I passed it, but my father was still being burdened by so many other concerns, there was no way I was going to add to them by telling him what I’d almost done to my girlfriend in the National Forest. The phrase ‘date rape’ ran through my mind, and I shuddered. I didn’t blame Kylee for being afraid of me, because I was afraid of myself.  Emotions assaulted me from all sides as snow spattered my windshield. Disappointment over the book that would never be written. Devastation over what had happened to Carl. Guilt because Carl was dead and I wasn’t. Pain that went so deep I could barely draw a breath for all that had changed since Thanksgiving. And now fear that I wasn’t the person I’d thought I was. That I wasn’t going to turn out to be the decent man my father had tried so hard to raise me to be.

 

All I could think of as I pulled in our driveway was what an utter failure I was. I parked my truck in front of the garage and laid my head on the steering wheel. I might have cried, but I don’t remember.  I just remember feeling hollow, and confused, and alone.

 

I finally pulled myself out of my stupor and trudged to the house. I didn’t want Clarice to come looking for me if I wasn’t inside by midnight. I hung up my coat and took my shoes off before entering the kitchen. Thankfully, Clarice had already gone to bed.  I walked through the dining room and down the short hall to her bedroom. Light spilled from the crack beneath the closed door.  I could hear the sound of her TV tuned to some late night movie.  I tapped lightly on the door and called quietly, “Clarice, I’m home.”

 

She didn’t come to the door, but asked, “Did you and Kylee have a good time?”

 

I started to say, “Yeah,” got choked up, and had to swallow hard before trying again. “Yeah...yeah, we did.”

 

“That’s nice.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Because I didn’t want her to see my face, I said a fast, “Goodnight,” so she wouldn’t be tempted to come into the hall to talk to me, and hurried away.  I barely heard her, “Goodnight, Trevor” in return.

 

This morning I stayed in bed as long as I could. I didn’t get up when I smelled the French toast Clarice was making for breakfast, nor when I heard my father walk in the house at eight-thirty. Clarice must have told Papa I didn’t get home from my date until almost midnight, because he didn’t come upstairs to wake me.  I continued to play opossum until I heard Clarice leave for church, and Papa come upstairs to change his clothes before going to the barn.  I peered out my window and watched him tromp through the snow.  When he was in the barn, I got up. 

 

I showered, dressed, and made my bed, then wandered down to the kitchen.  I glanced at the clock and saw I had enough time to make it to church if I hurried, but I didn’t want to go, because I didn’t want to see Kylee.  I’d already decided I had to talk to her – had to apologize to her and somehow assure her that what had happened the night before would never happen again, but I couldn’t do that in church, obviously.  As I tried to force myself to eat a few bites of cereal, I formulated a plan.  I’d drive to Kylee’s after lunch, and see if she’d go to Donna’s with me for Cokes, or pie, or for milkshakes and an order of fries. I thought she’d feel safe with me in a public place like that, yet if we took a corner table, we could talk privately.  Usually, Donna’s is pretty busy on Sunday afternoons, which means there’d be enough talking going on by the waitresses and customers so that Kylee and I wouldn’t be overheard.

 

I put my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, and started the appliance cycling.  I went to the laundry room, put on my boots and old denim coat, and went outside. I joined my father in the barn. I was afraid he’d ask twenty questions about my date, but he didn’t.  He seemed preoccupied, just like he’s seemed a lot since Carl died, and after an initial question of, “Did you have a good time last night?” he seemed satisfied with my, “Yeah,” and let the subject drop.  As we worked together mucking stalls, I thought about telling him what I’d done the previous night, but one look at his face told me he was tired, and didn’t need the additional worry of a teenager who couldn’t keep his hands off his girlfriend.

 

It was quarter to one when I heard the dogs bark.  I looked out the window and saw a vehicle coming down our driveway.  I swallowed hard when I recognized Mr. Bonnette’s big black Chevy truck. 

 

I’m a dead man.

 

I didn’t know which was going to hurt worse – Mr. Bonnette beating the crap out of me, or my father doing the same when Mr. Bonnette was done.

 

It wasn’t Mr. Bonnette that climbed out of the vehicle, though. It was Kylee.

 

I turned to Papa and said, “Kylee’s here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

 

“Invite her to stay for lunch.”

 

“O...okay.”

 

I wasn’t sure if Kylee would accept a lunch invitation, but I was hoping she would because, if nothing else, it would be a step in the right direction for both of us. 

 

I stepped out into the cold and crossed to the truck. Kylee climbed out wearing blue jeans, along with the letterman’s coat she’d earned for track and cheerleading. I didn’t know if she’d gone to church or not, but before I got a chance to ask she said, “I need to talk to you for a minute.”

 

I nodded. “Wanna go in the house?”

 

“No. Out here is fine.”

 

“Ky...it’s okay,” I assured. “I won’t...what I did last night...I won’t do it again. I promise.  I’m sorry. I really am. I...”

 

“I’m sorry too, Trevor.” She grabbed my right hand and shoved something into it.  When I opened my palm, I saw my class ring.

 

“Kylee, please.” My breath came out in cold, ragged jerks. “Please...I’m sorry. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

 

Tears started to trickle down Kylee’s face. “I think...I just think it would be better if we don’t see one another any more.”

 

“But it won’t happen again.  Kylee, I promise, I won’t—”

 

“Trevor, this isn’t just about last night. You haven’t been yourself for weeks now, but you won’t tell me why.  Even before the accident you weren’t acting like yourself.  You didn’t want to be with me, you were always giving me excuses about why you were so quiet...I think...I just think that after last night, this is for the best.”

 

     I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t for the best. I wanted to tell her that we could have a damn chaperone on our dates if that would make her feel more comfortable. I wanted to tell her I’d confess to her parents and my father what I’d done, and then accept whatever restrictions they set forth because of that. Most of all, I wanted to tell her I loved her, but instead, I just stood there and nodded, because I didn’t want her to cry any harder than she already was.

 

I felt the light touch of her fingers on my hand. When I looked into her face her tears changed to sobs. As she turned for the truck, she wailed, “Now my book won’t have a happy ending,” and hurried to climb in the cab.

 

Like I said in an earlier entry, Kylee’s always had a flair for the dramatic. 

 

I stood there in the snow and watched Kylee wheel the truck around and drive away. Papa came out of the barn as her vehicle reached the road. I heard his voice as he approached me from behind. 

 

“Kylee’s not staying for lunch?”

 

 I shook my head no.

 

Papa must have seen something on my face when he got abreast of me. 

 

“Trevor, what’s wrong?”

 

“Kylee...Kylee broke up with me.”

 

“Why?”

 

I couldn’t look at him.

 

“I...she just did, that’s all.”

 

He laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.  “Son...I’m sorry.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You wanna talk about it?”

 

“No.  I...no.  I just...I have homework to do, Papa.”

 

I didn’t have homework to do, because I’d finished it on Friday night. Papa probably knew that, but he respected the fact that I wanted to be alone, and hasn’t bothered me since I entered the house and came to my room.  It’s six o’clock now. I know Papa will knock on my door any minute to tell me supper’s ready, or to offer to take me somewhere for our meal. I don’t feel like eating, but I’ll go through the motions to please him.

 

All I’m doing lately is going through the motions in order to pretend I’m living, when in reality, I feel so dead inside. I didn’t think it possible to hurt any more than I already was, but after Kylee broke up with me today, I found out I was wrong.

 

 If this is what it costs each time you lose someone you love, how do people go on, and more importantly, why do they even try?

 

 

 

Part 6