The Contradiction of Solitude Page 25

  It wasn’t Amelia’s voice that played on my guilt. It was my own. I had hated myself for years.

  With Layna I had hoped to find peace with it all.

  But with her I found something else.

  I found my way into the bathroom and ran the water in the sink. I splashed my face. The cold waking me up just enough to see the reflection of the man who stared back at me.

  I didn’t know him at all.

  The person with the sallow skin and dark circles beneath his eyes. Lids puffy and red. Green irises dull and lifeless.

  Who was this person with the burden of a haunted spirit?

  Who was this person so ready to curl into a ball and let the ghosts have him?

  I touched my neck. Running fingers over the scars. So many scars.

  Talk to me, Elian! I told you I’d always be here!

  When had the calls started?

  Had they ever really stopped?

  I had been healthy. I had been sane. For years I had been functioning.

  What happened to me?

  To Elian Beyer?

  No more friends. No more job. No more music or guitars. I had nothing. I once had everything.

  So, so empty.

  Then and now.

  Before it was because I had no heart.

  Now it was because I had no soul.

  This is what losing your mind felt like.

  My phone started ringing. I picked it up and looked at the screen. Was the name I saw really there?

  It couldn’t be.

  Murdered sisters couldn’t use the phone where they were.

  What was wrong with me?

  I knew.

  Layna knew.

  I was gone.

  I threw the phone hard. With all my might. It smashed against the wall. And it felt good.

  For a second.

  But then the ringing started again.

  It went on and on and on. It wouldn’t stop.

  Just talk to me, Elian. Please!

  I opened my medicine cabinet and rooted around for the brown plastic bottle. The one Layna had put back. Empty.

  I dropped to my knees and searched the bathroom floor. My search was in vain. I couldn’t find what I was looking for.

  Several white pills. Somewhere. But I had dumped out the contents of that necessary bottle.

  The ringing continued. Loud. In my ears.

  Amelia’s voice screamed even louder.

  Talk to me!

  Layna! Where were you?

  Come back.

  I fell onto my side and closed my eyes.

  Sleep found me.

  At my lowest I was finally able to rest.

  I woke up the next morning feeling…different.

  Foggy. Too hot. Clammy skin and dry lips.

  I slowly sat up from my spot on the bathroom floor. My body ached.

  My first thought was Layna.

  Where was she?

  Would she be coming back?

  My second thought was Amelia.

  But she was quiet. I couldn’t hear her. I was both relieved and desolate.

  My head was fuzzy. My breathing was labored. Painful. Survival was becoming difficult.

  I should call Layna. I wanted her. I needed to see her.

  We had so much to talk about.

  But maybe it was good that we give it time.

  To leave the words where they lay. In the dust and the grime. On the floor of that dilapidated old house where Layna lost her childhood. Her innocence.

  Layna.

  We can be broken together.

  Maybe together, our pieces would make us whole.

  I looked for my phone and then remembered that I had thrown it against the wall last night.

  My jaw was stiff as though I had been grinding my teeth all night. I thought about going to find Layna. To drive to her apartment.

  I couldn’t. I realized my car wasn’t even outside.

  I vaguely remembered Layna bringing me back. In her car. After leaving mine at her apartment. But things from last night were so blurry. So hard to see.

  It was best to wait anyway.

  For her to come to me.

  If she came to me.

  What would I do if she didn’t?

  I ran my fingers through my hair and looked round my dismal house. Dirty. Untidy. I hadn’t touched a thing inside in weeks. I had slept. I had eaten. I had wandered through the rooms unseeing.

  I had been spending a lot of time in the company of phantoms.

  And Layna.

  I made myself a sandwich. It had been days since I had last eaten.

  When I was finished I went out to the quarry and sat on the beach. I stared out at the murky, still water.

  And I waited.

  For Layna.

  For Amelia.

  I waited.

  On pins and needs, I stayed.

  Hoping she would find me.

  Terrified she would find me.

  “Are you going to leave me here?” Elian asked.

  I had driven back to my apartment once we were back in Brecken Forest and had taken Elian home in my car.

  I pulled up in front of his house—out in the middle of nowhere—and watched him get out. He was unsteady on his feet. I should have helped him inside.

  But I wanted to get out of there.

  I needed some distance.

  From Elian.

  From everything.

  “Will you come back?” he asked and I wasn’t sure whether he spoke to me or his dead sister. The sister I had seen my father kill. The sister who called him every single night on his silent phone.

  Would I come back?

  Of course I’d come back.

  But I had things to do first.

  Important things.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I said. Then I watched him wander towards his house and through the door. Closing himself inside.

  It was time to pack.

  The leaving was about to begin.

  I had done this many times before. It was nothing new to fill the boxes. To tape them shut. To load them in my car and drive away. To a new place. A new life.

  A new purpose.

  However, things had changed.

  Elian.

  He was the point of all of it.

  When I had searched for him, I had a plan. A very clear one.

  Ingratiate myself into his world.

  Get to know him.

  Let him know me.

  The parts that he wanted to see.

  And then he would love me.

  They always did.

  There had been others before. There would be others after. None of them had mattered.

  Elian was different.

  It was because of her.

  Amelia.

  “Help me!” she screamed. Her green, green eyes pleaded with me. Amelia. Poor, poor Amelia.

  She was mine.

  Daddy had gotten her just for me.

  Something had happened on the way to the end. Something that in all my planning, I hadn’t anticipated.

  Love.

  Or what I assumed was the elusive, indefinable feeling.

  I had nothing really to compare it to.

  Nothing healthy anyway.

  I fell for the liar with the dancing green eyes. He had filled a corner of my lonely heart.

  For a while.

  But then he changed. He started to unravel. The game had altered and became something else.

  I found him at his weakest. But he wanted to be strong. For me he would be everything.

  Anything.

  But he could only fail.

  Because in the end, our hearts would never be enough.

  I let myself into my apartment. My home for another few hours. I was happy to leave.

  I dropped my purse on the counter in the kitchen and got myself a drink of water. I thought about Elian. What he was doing.

  What would I find when I went back?

  Would he be ready?

&n
bsp; Was I?

  I felt a familiar sort of longing in my gut and the buzzing in my ears.

  Buzz…

  “Layna, dear, are you in here?”

  Mrs. Statham had bad timing.

  “In here, Mrs. Statham,” I called out. No way to avoid it. She had to be dealt with. She wasn’t a bad sort. She just wasn’t someone who had any lasting impression.

  She would be forgotten. Just like all the others that had come and gone. Secondary. Intermittent. Temporary.

  “I brought you some more cookies.” The old lady stopped and looked at the boxes on the coffee table. She frowned. “Are you moving?”

  I tried not to snap at her. I had to maintain the façade to the very end.

  “Yes, Mrs. Statham. I’ve decided to move home.” Almost the truth. Just barely.

  Mrs. Statham looked upset. She liked me. She had come to regard me with a lingering affection. I almost felt sorry for her.

  Almost.

  “Where’s home?” she asked. Another dig for information. She was always, always digging. I was glad to be free of her constant prying.

  “Away from here,” I said with a smile as I took the cookies from her hand. I lifted one off the plate and put it in my mouth. It was vile. The most disgusting thing I had ever tasted. I swallowed it, suppressing a gag.

  “I hate this. You’re the best neighbor I’ve had in years. None of that obnoxious rock music at all hours of the night. No strange visitors. You keep to yourself but you’re nice. A nice, sweet girl. It’s a shame. I had hoped you were putting down roots here.”

  If anything, I had played my part well. I could take satisfaction in that.

  “No. It’s time for me to move on, Mrs. Statham. This was always just a stop along the way. Nothing more.”

  Nothing more.

  Another chapter in the story.

  The most important story of all.

  “When are you leaving?” she asked. The old woman looked so forlorn. So unhappy.

  “Immediately. As soon as I can finish packing,” I told her honestly. I ate the rest of the cookie. Hating every bite.

  “Well, bring that plate back up before you go so I can say goodbye.” She sniffled. Her rheumy eyes wet with tears.

  And then she hugged me. Tight.

  “I’m gonna miss you, Layna. Take care of yourself,” she said thickly. I nodded.

  I’d always take care of myself.

  Mrs. Statham left, and I threw the cookies away. Along with the plate.

  I made sure to put the guitar case by the door. I had no use for it anymore. It was time to return it to where it belonged.

  I was a little sad to say goodbye to the inanimate object.

  But it was never mine to keep.

  I went into the living room and picked up the last of the pictures. The one Elian had never noticed. The one that sat behind all the rest. Out of sight.

  But my eyes could always see.

  Pretty, pretty girl with dark hair and lovely green eyes.

  My family.

  Amelia.

  I kept them all with me.

  Some may call it morbid that I surrounded myself with my father’s specters. And maybe they’d be right.

  I loved them.

  I hated them.

  But in many ways they were all I had.

  They were the memories. The recollections. They were whatever I needed them to be.

  I wrapped Amelia up in paper so, so gently and put her in the box with all the others. Right on top.

  The most important one of all.

  I found my notebook underneath my purse and opened it to a clean, blank page.

  No stories. I had all the time in the world for those.

  These words were different.

  These words were just for me.

  Still, cool waters

  So easy to drown

  Your hand reaches out

  But doesn’t quite catch

  What it hopes to save.

  Coaxed by promises

  Soothed by smiles

  When will you learn

  To look before you leap?

  Too late

  All gone

  I was never here.

  My hand hovered over the page. Not quite sure if I was really finished.

  Was I?

  I closed the notebook. Slammed it shut. And then I shoved it in the box. My hands shaking as I taped it closed.

  My phone rang and I answered it.

  “Matt,” I greeted.

  He didn’t say anything.

  He was angry with me. I could tell.

  “I know you’re upset. But understand. I had no choice,” I tried to explain. Out of everyone on this earth, his opinion mattered.

  My little, little brother.

  I was crying in my room. Daddy had been gone for a year. Things were awful. People were so mean.

  Matty got it the worst.

  He at least tried to fit in. To be normal. They were more cruel because of it.

  But today I cried because I had seen his face in the newspaper. He was going on trial. And seeing the word killer hit me hard.

  The Nautical Killer.

  My daddy.

  “Why are you crying, Lay?” Matt’s small voice snapped me out of my despair.

  I wiped my face with the back of my hand and glared at him. He was so annoying. He just never knew when to leave me alone.

  “None of your business, booger. Where’s Mom?”

  Matty shrugged, his face falling. “She’s sleeping again.”

  I softened slightly. Mom slept all the time. Because it was easy to deceive yourself in dreams.

  “Come here,” I said, calling him into my room. I never let him come in. He knew better. And he seemed hesitant now. Unsure.

  “Come on. Stop being stupid.” I rolled my eyes and patted the bed beside me. Matty jumped up and got comfortable.

  He looked at the newspaper in my lap. Daddy’s face large in black and white.

  “I hate him,” Matty said and I couldn’t argue. I hated him sometimes too.

  “But you love him still, right?” I asked. Hoping I wasn’t alone in these conflicting, confusing feelings for the man I called father.

  Matty was quiet for a long time. He looked like me. Like Daddy. We took none of our features from our mother. I was glad.

  “He doesn’t love me, Lay,” Matty said and I was startled. He was only nine years old but sometimes he saw more than most adults.

  “Yes he does—” I began to argue.

  “No. He doesn’t.” He sounded so, so sad. And maybe a little relieved.

  We both looked at the picture of the stranger. I knew him better than anyone did.

  “But I love him. I wish I didn’t.” Matty sounded morose and I knew that in him I had someone who understood. That we lived a life no one else could understand.

  I hugged him. For the first time in years I felt..…connection. Something better…something pure. Something I never felt with Daddy.

  Daddy.

  I tried to hate him with all of me.

  Only to fail. Each and every time.

  I held onto my baby brother and for the first time felt something like real love. Not the angry, dark thing I felt for my daddy.

  It wasn’t much.

  Just an infinitesimal part of my heart. But it was there all the same.

  “You went. After everything he had done, after everything he put us through. The girls. Those poor girls. Have you forgotten about them?” Matt asked in agonized whispers.

  I could never, ever forget.

  Memories were like that.

  Stars for always.

  “I needed to see his face—”

  “Did you get your closure? Are you able to move on? To put it behind you? Can we go forward from this and have a normal brother/sister relationship? Can I call you to talk about something that isn’t him?”

  It was my turn to be silent. Because we both knew that would never be the case. Not with us.


  “What about your man? Elian, right?”

  “That’s his name,” I confirmed.

  “Where does he fit into all this?”

  Where does Elian fit into my plans? Where does he fit into my life?

  For Elian and me, there was only one way for it to go.

  To end…

  “I know you, Lay, there’s something behind this quiet. It scares me,” Matt said quietly. Straight to my mind.

  Straight to my heart.

  “Don’t be scared,” I whispered back.

  More silence.

  More solitude.

  It went on. And on. And on.

  “I can’t be this person for you anymore, Layna,” Matt said suddenly.

  “What are you talking about?” I hissed. Frustrated. Mad. Why did he have to be like this? Expecting so much when I could offer so little.

  “I’m not your moral compass. And I’m sure as hell not Jiminy Fucking Cricket. I won’t tell you what’s wrong and what’s right. Because you never listen to me anyway. How many times have we come to this point, and I’ve begged you to walk away? To stop this insanity before it begins? I’m tired of riding this train with you. It hits a brick wall. Every. Single. Time.”

  “Matt. Wait a minute. That’s not fair. You and me—”

  “Are nothing. We’re nothing Layna. At one time you were my sister. I was your brother. But that was years ago. You can hardly call the relationship we have now normal. I stopped being your sibling the day I was taken away. You stopped being mine when you wouldn’t look for me.”

  So much hurt.

  So much pain.

  I could taste it in the air. In my toes. In my fingers.

  Everywhere.

  “Wait—” I reached out through the void. Trying to stop him.

  It was too late.

  We were at a point of no return.

  “I’m not going to call you anymore, Lay. And please, don’t call me. I’m trying to move on, and it’s obvious you aren’t. I was wrong when I told you were nothing like him.”

  Pain. So much pain.

  “You’re exactly like him. Good ol’ Dad did a bang up job of ruining both of us. But you must be his crowning achievement.”

  I balled up the feelings that Matt’s words unleashed and I shoved them away. I stomped on them.

  Ashes under my shoes.

  “That’s fine, Matty. You do what you have to do,” I told him. Meaning it.

  I had already disengaged. Let go.

  Of this one last shred of my slipping humanity.

  It was just as well.

  Given what was left to do.

  Leaving.

  “Goodbye, Layna.” Matt hesitated, and I knew he was struggling with this final act of separation. Because this one was absolute.