The Contradiction of Solitude Page 8

  “Ma’am, do you know where I can find the new Stephen King book?”

  I wasn’t there. I was here.

  I pointed towards the stairs. The older woman looked at me and I knew what she was thinking.

  She’s crazy. What is wrong with her?

  It wasn’t anything I didn’t already think about myself.

  The woman tutted under her breath but left, following my less than clear directions. I bent down and picked up the book I had dropped. My hollow center felt uncomfortably full.

  With thoughts I wished would go away.

  There were few things in my life that I truly needed. I made sure of that.

  But I fished my phone out of my pocket and dialed the number of the one thing that I would always need. I couldn’t cut the string tying us together. The link was forever. Too strong.

  The phone rang and rang, finally going to voicemail. The message that played in my ear was enough to settle me down.

  It was enough to hold me together.

  For now.

  “Layna, are you still up here? It doesn’t take that long to shelve a stack of books,” Diana laughed, with just enough bite to let me know she was somewhat serious.

  “Sorry, I got distracted,” I excused, grabbing the first book I could reach. Diana cocked an eyebrow and looked at the cover.

  “Strange reading choice for a woman without children, don’t you think?”

  I balked, I couldn’t help it. I looked down at the book I had inadvertently chosen and could have laughed at the irony. Raising moral children. Teaching what we learn.

  “Uh, no, the title just caught my attention.” I hastily put it back. Diana regarded me with an amused expression. I knew that Diana didn’t really like me, but she had no real reason to fire me. I was a competent employee. I took any and all shifts she offered. I worked hard and then went home. I was quiet and kept to myself.

  And if I didn’t embark on temporary friendships with my boss and co-workers the way the others did, that was their issue, not mine.

  I put Diana on edge. I had noticed her watching me warily. In all my efforts to blend in over the years, there were times I just couldn’t help but stick out.

  Because I wasn’t ordinary.

  I had lost the ability to converse and laugh and be. I didn’t know how to answer questions about what I watched on television last night or what movie I wanted to see. Things that were so important to everyone else, barely registered in the realm of my priorities.

  I didn’t care about any of that.

  So that made me hard to read…hard to get to know. Hard to talk to.

  It didn’t matter. Diana recognized the distance I maintained and disliked me for it.

  Some people were like that.

  Hating without reason.

  I could understand her revulsion. It’s the same I felt for her normalcy.

  “I was wondering whether you could stay until close tonight. Troy has to leave early,” Diane asked, clearly assuming I’d agree. I always had before. I was dependable. I made sure of it.

  But once in a while, joy could be taken in the unpredictable.

  “I can’t tonight,” I replied softly, running fingers along the spines of the books, delighting in the rough, rigid texture.

  “You can’t?” Diana asked, surprised. She watched my hands dancing along the books, her bushy eyebrows pulled together.

  “I can’t,” I repeated, not expanding. Not offering anything else.

  Tonight was different.

  Tonight I’d see Elian.

  He was taking me anywhere.

  “Oh, well, that’s fine. I can stay. I just thought I’d ask since you’re always ready to pick up extra shifts.” Diana watched me some more and I dropped my hands regretfully from the books.

  “Not tonight,” I murmured.

  “Do you have plans? Where are you going?” my boss asked, seeing this as an opening. A way to know more. She and Mrs. Statham should start a club.

  For just the briefest of seconds I thought about being real with her. I thought about telling her about Elian. About how when I looked at him, I felt…full. It had been a long time since I had given myself permission to share…to confide.

  Isolation had kept me alive. It had kept me whole.

  It was safe. For me. For them.

  I didn’t like Diana. I found her detestable in many ways. She ate with her mouth open. She compulsively chewed gum, even when speaking. She had problems with personal space.

  But she was someone I shared time with for a brief period and I suddenly felt…lonely.

  There’s Contradiction in the Solitude.

  In the end, I didn’t answer her. It was better that way.

  I stood in front of the mirror in the hallway fixing my hair. I fiddled with the messy strands, frustrated when they didn’t do what I wanted them to.

  My fingers stilled when I realized what I was doing.

  I let out an uneasy laugh and dropped my hands. My hair didn’t matter. My pretty face, my attractive clothes, none of it was important.

  This was my beginning…

  I turned to walk back into the living room and knocked into the guitar case just inside the doorway. I picked it up and set it behind the couch. I didn’t play. I never planned to. But I had to have this particular guitar.

  There was a knock at my door and I knew it was him.

  I smoothed out my long, blue skirt and straightened the thin straps of my white tank top. I had taken more effort with my appearance tonight. I knew Elian would appreciate it.

  I opened the door, and Elian’s face lit up. His dancing green eyes sparkled and his mouth smiled. And for just an instant I knew this moment was real.

  “Wow,” he breathed, his eyes slowly traveling from my feet to my face. My heart was steady. Always steady. But I liked his reaction.

  I started to slip out the door and join him in the hallway when Elian stopped me. “Can I use your bathroom? I got oil all over me and I need to change.” He held up a green T-shirt just the color of his eyes.

  I stilled, not wanting to let him inside.

  Too soon…

  “It’ll just take me a minute. I promise not to go snooping through your underwear drawer. I’m not that kind of guy.” He was teasing. His flirting was meant to make me feel at ease.

  It didn’t work.

  But I couldn’t tell him no. I didn’t want to be rude.

  So I beckoned him inside, purposefully not turning on the lights. I pointed down the hallway. “First door on the left,” I told him.

  Elian held his hands out in front of him, feeling along the wall. “Uh, can you turn on a lamp before I break something?”

  Buzz…

  I flipped on the hallway light and waited for him by the door. I felt compressed and tight. I fiddled with the strap of my shirt. Nervous. Restless. Ready.

  Elian was true to his word and came out of the bathroom soon enough. But he didn’t come straight back to where I was waiting. He veered off into the living room. I met him in the center of the room as he slowly looked around in the dim shadows.

  “Do you have a thing against lights?” he laughed. A deep, warm sound that I enjoyed.

  “I thought we were leaving,” I said shortly.

  Elian was staring at me. I could feel his heavy gaze on every part of me. “I’m going to be honest, Layna Whitaker. You fascinate me. I want answers. I want to know you.”

  Inside I was grinning madly.

  I turned on the lights, indulging him. For just a moment.

  He scanned the room noticing the framed photographs lining the windowsill. I braced myself.

  He picked up the one closest to him and studied it. “Who is this?”

  I couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful girl with the long, blonde hair. She was young and fresh faced. Perfect.

  I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.

  “Family.”

  Elian accepted my answer and put the picture ba
ck, picking up the next one. Another girl, this one with red hair and a chubby face. Cute but nothing about her was eye catching. She could have been anyone. Non-descript.

  But to me she was…

  “Family,” I repeated.

  Realizing he would get no more answer than that he put the second framed picture down and turned back to me. “I’m making you uncomfortable,” he observed. I bit down harder on my cheek. Mangled flesh between my teeth.

  “No,” I lied.

  “Yes I do. My being here is making you uncomfortable. Why?”

  I didn’t answer him. There was no point. I couldn’t answer him. I had no way to explain.

  So I didn’t.

  “Okay, well let’s go then,” he said after a beat, accepting my lack of answer as the only one he seemed to need.

  I followed him to the door, and this time we made our way out into the hallway. His new shirt was a lovely shade of green and I liked the way it made his eyes stand out. They really were his best feature.

  “How did you get oil on your shirt?” I asked as we walked outside and toward his car—a 1979 Pontiac Firebird.

  “I was at my buddy’s place trying to change the oil. I ended up with more of it on me than in the car.” Elian held the door open and I got in. Closed inside I took a deep breath, smelling oil and old leather. And him.

  He slid into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. He sat for a few seconds before turning the car on. He closed his eyes briefly, and I couldn’t help but watch with interest as he ran his hand through his hair.

  “I’m ready,” he murmured quietly, looking into my eyes for the barest of seconds. We looked. We held on. We didn’t let go.

  My heart started to pound. Uneven. Tripping. Exploding in my chest.

  “I’m not,” I whispered back and it was true. I was suddenly not so sure of my purpose.

  Elian made questioning easy.

  “Then let’s wait a bit until you are,” Elian said, sweet and tender.

  “Okay,” I agreed. And I let him take my hand in his, lacing fingers like he was meant to.

  But he wasn’t.

  He shouldn’t.

  I didn’t pull away.

  Seconds passed. Minutes. And then he turned the car on and we were moving down the street.

  Heading toward anything.

  “Stay in the car, Layna. Don’t move.”

  I could still smell his gum. He chewed it when he was home to cover up the smell of the cigarettes I knew he still smoked. Mom didn’t know.

  But I did.

  We shared things like that. And when he asked me to do something, I did it.

  Not this time.

  I didn’t listen. I should have listened. But I was cold. I normally liked the dark. This time I didn’t.

  I wanted to know where he had gone.

  He went in there—the only thing I could see…

  “You haven’t asked where we’re going,” Elian commented, turning out of town in favor of a less busy country road.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, playing along, enjoying the game. Enjoying him.

  I squeezed my hands together between my knees. The biting pain as bones crushed and ground together clearing my head.

  So much pain. So much hurt.

  I wanted to lash out. I wanted to inflict damage.

  I thought about reaching across the dashboard and taking a hold of the steering wheel. I thought about what it would feel like to give it a swift turn, sending the car over the embankment. I imagined Elian’s face smashing into the windshield, crushing his nose.

  Blood spattering.

  Buzz…

  I clenched my hands tighter and tighter together.

  Blood.

  It was everywhere. I could almost smell it. Taste it. Feel it.

  It would be so easy to hurt him. To get the enjoyment I so desperately craved.

  Excitement that only came from the blood.

  “The road gets pretty uneven up ahead. You might want to hold on.” Elian’s voice was laughing. Happy.

  True and sure.

  I swallowed thickly, pushing the darkness deep, deep down until I could deal with it.

  Later.

  I held onto the car door as the car started to bounce and jerk. Rocks flew from under the carriage, sharp pangs on the glass. I couldn’t see much of where we were or where we were heading.

  All I could see were trees.

  Elian hit an especially large rock, sending me flying upward. I lifted my hand to cover my head, slapping my palm against the ceiling and then falling, rather inelegantly back onto the seat. My skirt riding upward, exposing my legs.

  Then I was giggling. Funny little hiccups of laughter falling from my lips.

  I was seven years old the last time I laughed like that.

  From the gut. Feeling it in my toes.

  “Hold your arms out, baby, baby girl.” I immediately held out my arms, flapping them like a bird. He tossed me into the air, and for a second I was flying. Arms out stretched, the air beneath me. My father’s laughing face a blur, but I could hear him.

  His laugh was the most beautiful sound…

  “I think I broke a rib,” I chuckled, holding my side after bumping into the door with force.

  “Sorry, we’re almost there. I need to do something about this road. It’s lethal.”

  I didn’t have time to think about what he meant because the car suddenly broke through a clearing and came to a stop just at the edge of a sandy expanse of beach.

  I leaned forward, peering out the window, taking it all in.

  The glittering water jutted out in front of us and then looped around the giant, rocky cliffs. We were surrounded by trees on all sides, hidden away.

  It was wild and untouched except for a small rundown looking house just on the by the water. Sitting in the shadow of a giant rock outcrop. An old wheelbarrow leaned up against a tree. A rough fire pit encircled by large stones was in front of us, an old plastic lawn chair beside it.

  “Where are we?” I asked, getting out the car, still amazed by the harsh beauty all around.

  Elian came and stood behind me. I felt his chest brush against my back. He leaned forward. I leaned back. We touched.

  We stayed.

  “Half Moon Quarry. They used to mine for limestone here in the early part of the twentieth century. Then there was a series of fatal accidents. Men drowned. The horses that used to power the equipment fell over dead. The locals started saying it was cursed. They abandoned everything and left.” Elian pointed off into the distance and I could see piles of old metal twisted beneath the trees. “That’s what’s left. And the house. The foreman lived there at the height of the mining. It’s been empty for the last sixty years.”

  The quarry was still, not a movement on the water. A rock fell from the cliff above, splashing into the water. The place was quiet. Unnaturally so. I noticed a Dangerous. No Swimming sign just up the beach.

  “Don’t tell me people actually swim here.” I nodded toward the posted warning.

  “It used to be a popular swimming spot back in the sixties. But after a bunch of kids drowned, going too deep, they started having local police patrol the area to keep people away. There’s a steep drop off only ten feet out into the water. It goes down probably thirty feet. They don’t even allow people to fish here.”

  Elian tugged on my hand, snatching my attention. “Come on,” he said softly, as though not wanting to disturb the quiet that had descended between us.

  I followed him towards the house. He walked up onto the porch and opened the door. We stepped inside, and I was surprised by how clean and tidy it was. It was filled with new looking furniture. There was even a television sitting on a small table in the corner.

  “You live here,” I surmised, closing the door behind me. The air smelled faintly of lemon, as though Elian had employed all manner of cleaning products before bringing me here.

  Elian took my purse and dropped it on a small velv
et covered chair just inside the entryway.

  “I do. It’s mine. I bought it six months ago. You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here.”

  I wasn’t shocked by his admission. I had expected it. He was sharing with me something personal. Something secret. As though by compulsion. Around me, I knew that Elian was learning he couldn’t help himself.

  This fed something dark and dangerous inside me.

  Because Elian Beyer made me crave things.

  Other things.

  Normal things.

  Things that were bad for my soul.

  Elian wasn’t the first.

  But he was the most special.

  And that could be very, very terrifying for a woman like me.

  “I like it,” I told him. And I did. I walked until I was standing in front of the window that overlooked the massive limestone quarry. The solitude was enticing.

  “I’m glad,” Elian replied.

  We stood quietly for a time, neither expecting anything, wanting nothing.

  We just were.

  “I bought your guitar today,” I said rather suddenly, my voice too loud. It was jarring in my ears.

  “I figured that was you,” Elian said, handing me a bottle of beer. I hadn’t asked for one and I didn’t particularly want it. I didn’t drink. I liked having a clear head. Because too often it was muddled by other things.

  “You did?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “Why did you buy it?” Elian posed his own question, ignoring mine.

  I shrugged, taking a drink of beer and instantly regretting it. I put the bottle down on the windowsill.

  When I didn’t answer him, I thought he would move on. This time he didn’t. His unpredictability was shaking me.

  “Why did you buy it, Layna? I need to know.” Elian was emphatic. Frantic almost. His hair fell into his eyes and all I could see of his dancing green eyes were slits of color lost in the dark.

  “Why does it matter?” I countered. Elian clenched his hands, the muscles in his neck protruding and pronounced. I knew that these were his riddles. I knew the price he would have to pay to relinquish them.

  But I wanted to devour his secrets. All of them. Until I was bloated and full on the things he wanted no one else to discover.

  “That piece was…special.” His words leaked out of him. Dribbling into a puddle on the floor.