Arson (15 page)

 

Chapter 27

 

 

ARSON DIDN'T LIKE EMERY avoiding him. She seemed so skilled at it. It was all still very strange for him to believe that it even bothered him. Some chick with a mask threatening to cut herself out of his life.

Good, go ahead
.

No, it wasn't that easy. It wasn't just cut and dried, sever the ties and be done with it. He didn't operate that way. He couldn't let go of Grandpa that way, couldn't remove even someone as vindictive as his grandmother from his mind. He had never been so consumed about anyone or anything before. Part of him wondered what it was exactly that he felt for Emery. Was it love? Tolerance? Ridiculous, blind hope? He seemed so desperate and pathetic.

You've gotta grow up sometime, Arson
, he thought. 
Be a man, not a boy, and get past her
.

But he couldn't do that. He didn't want to.

He'd told himself again and again that volunteering would be a mistake, especially after what she'd seen him do at Tobey's. Man, he could be so stupid. He'd tried to talk to her, but she had headphones in her ears most of the time and barely even looked his way.

It was awkward walking around the hospital without direction or a clue of what to do, apart from taking orders from a mask. Filling up cups with water and dropping snacks off upon cranky requests was enough to make him go nuts. The fact that he had even showed up was a miracle, but it wasn't like Emery knew that. Wasn't like she had any idea that he'd spent hours of the morning depressed in his bed, sweating.

Arson followed behind her. Well, it was probably more like stalking. She'd divided her shift with another volunteer so that she'd see less of Arson during the day. Said she had nothing to say to him. During lunch break, he found her in the café and tried to strike up some semblance of a conversation, but all attempts ended in her ignoring him.

“I don't understand why you're so mad,” he said, rushing up behind her. She tilted her head toward him but said nothing.

He could tell she was enjoying watching him squirm, her satisfaction and delight apparent by the way she carried herself down the hallways—blissful, like nothing was the matter even when it was.

Emery continued rolling the cart down the third-floor hallway. All he wanted was forgiveness.

He rolled his eyes, sighed, coughed, and watched her walk deliberately fast. But if she picked up speed, he picked up speed. Arson hated these childish games, but it seemed like the only chance to get closer to her.

She stopped all of a sudden. Abe's room. Arson had spent so much time trying to get Emery to talk to him that he'd forgotten about Abe altogether. He put aside pride, ambition, and all hopes of a conversation and just followed her shadow inside.

“Good afternoon, you young lovebirds,” Abe said, attempting to hide the bloodstained handkerchief.

“Abraham, don't start!” Emery said, taking out her headphones. “The last thing I even want to think about is being with someone like him.”

“What did you do?” Abe said weakly, looking at Arson.

“He acted like a complete love-drunk sap bag.”

“Love-drunk sap bag?” Abe said. “That's a new one. If I were you, kid, I'd start with flowers and chocolates, after begging for forgiveness. Soften her right up.”

“Abraham, just pretend he's not even here. My mom gave him a ride today, even though I told her not to.”

“Man, oh, man, for someone so young and charming, you'd think you would be happy.”

“You're right, Abraham, but I really don't need a lecture right now, okay? Now, do you want the surprise or not?”

Abe turned once more to Arson and whispered, “It's like I just ran over her cat or something.”

“Don't feel bad,” Arson said. “At least she's talking to you.”

Emery pulled out a plastic container filled with what appeared to be apple juice.

“See what I mean? She won't even acknowledge me. It's like I'm a ghost.”

Abe laughed. “What I wouldn't have given for a relationship like that back in my day.”

Emery stood with her hand on her waist.

“Oh, what? I'm old-fashioned. The pretty gals are best seen and…oh, I always forg—oh, right, not heard.”

“Are you old-fashioned or sexist?”

“Is there a difference?” Abe roared in amusement, but soon his laughs turned to throaty coughs, deep and mixed with red phlegm. “I'm only having fun with you, Emery. Take it easy.”

“I'm sorry. I'm being rude. You didn't do anything, Abraham. It's not your fault. I should just know better than to trust other people.”

Abe smiled and told her to laugh more. Arson wanted to understand Emery, but didn't she see that he was human? That he made mistakes and wasn't perfect? It wasn't fair, her treating him this way. It wasn't fair that Grandma could have a mental breakdown—several—and he was just expected to keep running things as normal. It wasn't fair that there was a flame inside of him. It wasn't fair that he was falling for such a fun—at times emotionally complicated—girl like Emery.

She started to pour the beverage into a cup.

“Don't get old like me,” Abe said, sinking back into his pillow.

“I'll try,” Emery said with a certain cheer in her voice. “Abe, do you remember the one wish you asked me for a few weeks ago when I started volunteering?”

“Of course I do. The wish ain't changed.”

“Well, consider this my chance to make an old man happy one last time.”

Emery handed him the cup, and he took it with shocked eyes and shaky hands.

“My little dynamite. I hope I've not corrupted you. I mean, what would your parents think of me?”

“I hardly think they'd care at this point. Forget about them. I just want you to be happy. And I know I'm not your granddaughter, but hopefully you'll remember me. I care about you, Abraham.”

“Don't get all sappy on me. We don't have enough tissues for the both of us.” His lips spread out into a warm grin.

“It's probably flat, but it's the best I could do.”

He smelled the drink before sipping it. “Where'd you get it? It's not exactly easy for a preacher's daughter to get a hold of stuff like this.”

“You'd be surprised. You have to promise to keep this between us. If anyone finds out about this, I'm officially d-e-a-d.”

“You don't have to worry about me. I'm no snitch. Thank you, baby.”

Abe took a long sip, rolled his eyes back, and relished the moment. Arson stared at the stretchy flesh that made up Abe's throat, watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed the sweet new taste of an old desire. It was peaceful.

Emery waited for Abe to finish his cup and wrapped the contents covertly beneath the Jell-O tray.

 

* * *

 

Aimee wanted him so badly. She'd imagined making love to him in her sleep and even while she was awake. The way Carlos might kiss her. Would his lips taste the same? Or had they been jaded from twenty-five years of listless lovers? The thoughts had taken her away from much of what needed to be done around the hospital. During her shifts, patients were put on hold, and other nurses were asked to wait until Aimee finished reapplying makeup, ruffling her hair, anything to catch Carlos's attention when he passed her in the hallways. She could get a smile out of him in public, but she craved more.

She was the one who had changed, after all. Trading a life of mystery and fun for an organized one secluded in churches and lonely bedrooms. The man she loved was in love with other things, like congregations and beer. Was she really all that guilty? After all, there were plenty of times when Joel glanced far too long at choir directors or cute ushers during a morning service. Long hours spent during the week 
counseling
 and 
ministering
, as he said, while she and Emery ate dinner cold.

Aimee had always wondered if this would happen, used to fear it. Most girls spent their wedding nights embracing their husbands. Aimee had been held, but she couldn't help thinking that one day she might break Joel's heart, like she'd broken Carlos's heart and others before him. When they hugged or got romantic, she'd get the feeling, and it would consume every waking breath. She had been just strong enough to keep stray thoughts at bay these long years. But she'd always wanted to look, wanted to dream again of something sweeter, more right, of a love uncorrupted by family ties or religion or friends.

“So how have you been adjusting to the environment, Aimee, since we spoke a few weeks ago?” Carlos asked, breaking the silence. His voice gave her chills.

“Better.” Lie. Could he tell? “I'm only here to make ends meet for my family.” Okay, that was at least partly true.

“Really?”

No. She was here for him. It had always been Carlos. It should have been Carlos.

“Coming back to work hasn't exactly been easy for me, but it's nice to get away once in a while.”

“Get away?” he asked.

“From my life. Joel and I aren't exactly talking right now. We're going through some hard times. My husband especially.”

Now he would understand that this wasn't just about her and her family but about him. She was thinking about him, dreaming about him, longing for him. It had taken her weeks to finally be honest with herself. Maybe now she could be honest with him.

“So remind me again what happened.” Carlos stroked his chin and twitched his lips a certain welcoming way. Aimee remembered him doing it often when they used to date.

She smiled and then paused, not sure if she was ready to share something so personal. But the sound of a ticking clock at the back of the office provoked her to speak. “My husband's church kicked us out when they found him drinking in the office. It was a Tuesday, I remember, when we got the news that he was out of a job. The last thing they wanted was an inebriated fool for a pastor. They called us heathens.”

“Ouch. Whatever happened to love in the church, huh?”

“Well, I can't say I blame them. Joel came home drunk one night and I nearly had a heart attack. But it's not exactly catching-up conversation, is it?”

“Well, we've been catching up for the last couple of weeks, haven't we?”

A pause.

“I so wish we'd kept in touch, Aimee. Think of all the time we've lost. All the memories we might have shared.”

Aimee's fingers cut through her hair as she leaned up in the chair. “It wouldn't have been right. I am a married woman.”

“The girl I used to know went out of her way to bend the rules. I'd hate to see a little church ruin that free spirit.”

“Free spirit? Is that what they're calling promiscuity these days?”

“C'mon.” He shrugged. “Don't be so hard on yourself. I'm not throwing any stones here. We had fun in the past, didn't we?”

She leaned back and tried to sit up straight but couldn't quite get comfortable. “I was young and naïve.”

“But we were in love.”

“It was a long time ago, Carlos. We're different people now.” Goose bumps chilled her forearm. “It was a different life. We were just kids. I didn't know what I wanted.”

“If you ask me, you still don't.”

An arrow she wasn't ready for. His words pierced deep and left a scar to prove it. “I don't remember asking for your two cents.”

Carlos raised his hands in defense. “I crossed the line, didn't I? Please forgive me, Aimee. You're absolutely right; we have changed. I'm just glad one of us has found happiness. That's rare in today's world. I can only hope that one day I too can find it.” He got up and courted her out of the office. “I've got to go in for surgery soon.”

“Yeah, and I've got patients to attend to. Carlos, I'm not sure these visits to your office in the middle of the day are the best thing for either of us. I don't want to ruin your reputation.” She wanted him to say something, anything. She loved to hear his voice. The way it cracked through the air. She could smell his breath when he got up close. Still sweet.

At length, Carlos replied, “Don't worry about it, Aimee. Like I said, you were never one to play it safe. Look, if you need anything, you know I'll always be here for you.”

She nodded. An answer she needed.

The door to the office closed behind them. They went off in opposite directions down the hall, but Aimee looked back.

 

Chapter 28

 

 

THE RIDE HOME BORDERED on agonizing. Arson had his head up against the window when Emery started blasting loud music through the back speakers right next to his ear. The front speakers, she argued, didn't get the sound right. Ignoring her mother's comment to lower it, she continued humming along to the song's chaotic jam. Arson tried to talk to her above the noise, but she said she couldn't hear him. He knew it was a mistake after all to think she could forgive him.

As soon as they arrived home, Emery made a run for the front door.

“Can we call a truce?” he asked, frustrated.

Emery stopped at the foot of the porch. “Why?”

“Because I'm sorry, Emery,” he said. “I know I hurt you. And I'm so sorry.”

“Oh, right. When you decided to give that slut a free sundae. Is that what you're talking about?”

Aimee turned off the ignition and rushed inside, leaving them to quarrel in peace.

“Do you hate me?” Arson asked, the distance between them like miles of empty space.

“Right now, yeah. But you can't take it back, so I guess you're gonna have to get used to it.”

“Emery, it was a stupid ice cream. This is ridiculous!”

“Not to me it isn't. I thought you were different.”

“I am different.”

“No, you're not. You're just like every other guy I've met. Why don't you just get outta here? Go be with her if that's what you want. You two deserve each other.”

It wasn't what he wanted. In fact, if he could write in the stars, it would be Emery's name next to his. Arson wanted to tell her how he felt about her, tell her that she was the only thing he could think about, that even when he was with Mandy, 
she
 was on his mind.

“I don't want to be enemies, Emery. I want us to be better. I made a mistake, and I'm begging you to forgive me. I'm thankful that today happened. We got to do something special for Abraham. Man, did you see him smile?”

“
I
 did something special for Abraham. You happened to be there.”

Arson grunted.

“You know, I wanted to tell you about it. I walked all the way to your lame job just to tell you. But yesterday's performance proved you really don't care about me. I still can't believe you let her manipulate you like that.”

“I can't even talk to you. You're acting crazy.”

“Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I'm a freak.”

Arson shook his head. “Whatever. For the record, I got fired. Hope you're happy; justice is served.”

Emery ran to him, her mask rushing toward his face. “You just don't get it, do you?” She staggered around the lawn, throwing her hands up in surrender.

“Emery, I don't know what you want. I said I was sorry. I spent the whole day trying to somehow earn your forgiveness. Maybe you don't want this to work.”

“What?”

“Whatever this is. Us.”

She began to cry. “So what? Now I'm supposed to believe you actually care about me?”

“Maybe. Look, I thought… I don't know. I guess we were both wrong.”

“Now I'm going to lose you too?” she said.

Arson glared at her, confused.

“Maybe I'm jealous, Arson. Okay? My life isn't picture perfect. My dad is a failed minister, and my mom is a nitpicking control freak. I have a family that's falling apart. I thought that if I reached out enough times, people might see me as something else, something other than a girl with a mask. When I volunteer at the hospital, that's what those dying people see. They see a person. I don't have a pretty face, but I'm still human.”

He watched as she crumbled.

“Mandy's manipulative. And you're blind if you can't see that. She probably has everything in the world, including you, wrapped around her pretty little finger.” She sobbed. “I wish I were beautiful. I wish I could make you look at me the way you look at her. But you wouldn't like what's underneath.”

Arson couldn't believe how cruel he'd been. Insensitive and unsympathetic. He swore it wasn't intentional. But he had problems to deal with too. At least she had a family, a mother, a father. Arson never had the chance to meet his parents. Instead, he had a mother who died giving birth to an unnatural creature like him. And a father who walked away. He didn't even know his name. Could she understand what a burden like that was?

Arson quieted his mind and gave himself a moment to think. He wanted to see Emery happy. Staring into her eyes, Arson reached toward the back of her head and began untying the mask. At first, Emery was reluctant. She put her hands up and tried to resist, but Arson had already unraveled the string. The leathery mask slipped off in his hands, and he could see her clearly for the first time.

The two of them remained still and quiet.

Arson counted his heartbeats and watched her eyes dance around him. Sections of her skin glistened with a pasty pink color. Bumpy scar tissue perverted the upper right side of her forehead, the front of her scalp eaten away. Scars littered her neck and chin. Arson wanted to break as she looked up at him with eyes that could hold oceans.

“You're looking at me weird. Like I'm a monster,” she said.

He gently touched her cheek. “This is what you were afraid of?”

She slowly nodded.

Arson licked his chapped lips and let the flutters inside him subside. “You're beautiful, Emery.”

“No one has touched my face since I was a little girl,” she said, still crying. “Sometimes I wish I were dead. Every day I have to look at this mask. I hate the way it makes me feel. I hate the fact that I can't change it. This creature is what I am now. I wish I could go back—”

“Emery, what happened to you?” Arson whispered, his voice changing from sympathetic to concerned.

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, tears streaming down her blood-red cheeks. “Nothing. Just stupid boys.”

Arson was silent.

“I hate them for what they did to me. I know I shouldn't, but they turned me into this freak.”

He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. He began to drown.

“I was ten. The last time I remember being happy. I can still see that blinding light as the fire hit my eyes. Right before everything went black.”  She sniffled between breaths. “I don't want to think about it anymore.”

“Emery?” A wave of realization rushed over him. “Oh God.”

“I was a good girl. I would've been pretty. Then you might have loved me. Maybe they'd love me too.” She grinded her teeth.

Arson's hands went cold, dead. He was ice. He was regret.

“It doesn't matter anymore. It was an accident that changed my life. They were just stupid boys playing with fire.”

The image of the exploding firecracker forced Arson's eyes shut. He was running again, always running. Cambridge. Night. Cold. Deep breaths. No breaths. Fear.

Suddenly, Arson felt a tingling in his palm, and then it turned hotter, more painful. He panted, the images of himself as a ten-year-old boy like flashes of lightning. Then the screams came, silencing everything. Arson pushed her away.

She quickly put the mask back on. It seemed to glare back at him with sinister pleasure, scraping away the darkness.

She drew near, but he was a statue. His molars ached, his knuckles cracked. His heart boomed in the pulse.

“What is it?” she asked as he started running away.

 

* * *

 

Emery dangled her head over the toilet bowl, puking out regret. The sick feeling in her stomach expanded and expanded until all viable space was devoured. She imagined herself as somebody else, somebody hung over from the greatest party she'd ever crashed, the kinds of parties she'd heard other people her age talk about. The ones she never got invited to.

Bile poured out of her, stinging as it bubbled up the back of her throat. She watched in a dizzy haze as drops of what she had eaten for lunch sank into the pool and then floated back to the top. The smell made her hurl even more.

After a few minutes of self-condemnation, there was a loud knock on the door. It was her father. She told him to go away.

Emery didn't know why, but it felt like spiders were crawling across her skin. Big, hairy spiders with no sympathy for an ugly girl. They wanted the mask. They wanted her. The haunting sensation made her take off the mask and throw it across the bathroom floor.

“I'm so stupid,” she slurred.

Emery flushed the toilet, brushed her hair back, and sighed. Empty. She stepped into the shower with her clothes on and turned the faucet. She'd seen Arson drown himself in the lake. Maybe it would help her too. Maybe it could help her forget how stupid she was for letting him see her.

Within seconds, hot needles began trickling out the steel lip, licking her skin as it rained down. The water disguised her tears, red circles swelling around her cheeks and eyes. She sank down in the tub, tucking her head into her knees. The dreaded mask glared back at her from the tile floor, its haunting grin sending a new chill through her bones.

Emery cried awhile, constantly scratching her face and wishing that for one moment she could be beautiful, for real.