Between Before and After (16 page)

“I’m sorry about what happened this morning,” she said. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I’m sorry if that’s how it felt.”

He shook his head, not sure that now was the right time to be having this discussion. He had so much on his mind with Max, he needed every ounce of brainpower he had if he was going to outsmart him. He opened his mouth to tell her as much.

“Please – just let me finish?” she said. “I’m scared, and it’s not of you – I’m scared of me. I don’t want to do the wrong thing. I don’t want to lead you on or give you false hope or anything like that – you deserve better.” 

After a slow start, her words were tumbling out now and he struggled to keep up. 

“What happened between us at New Years wasn’t planned – it just happened, and it scared me to death because I wasn’t expecting it. But all I’ve done since then is think about you and about changing my life and about moving on, and it’s a big deal, Finn. I don’t want to just jump into something unless I know I’m ready to give it everything I have. And giving everything I have means I have to give something up, and I think that has to be Danny. I think I have to give him up, and on some level, I know that. But on a whole other level, I’m not sure if I can. Actually, that’s not strictly true – what I mean is that I don’t know if I know
how
.”

Danny – again. Why isn’t he just fading into the past like normal dead people? Why does he have to hang around like this? Can’t he just leave us alone to get on with our lives? Isn’t it enough that he had to kill himself? Do we have to live with his ghost forever now too?

“Finn?”

He concentrated on slowing his heart rate down, of making everything manageable again. He felt like his chest might burst open at any moment and all the frustration, guilt, helplessness, grief and anger might pour out into the air around him, leaving him empty and hollow. He wanted to feel empty and hollow – he craved it. Anything would be better than this. Maybe Max had a point. Maybe the answer lay in numbing the pain with alcohol.

Max.

Focus, for God’s sake!

Turning back to Max’s car, he opened the driver’s door and reached in to pull the boot release. He purposefully avoided looking at or answering Kate, afraid of what would come out of his mouth if he tried to talk. His heart pumped double time in his chest and he had an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

“Please – just talk to me?” Kate pleaded.

Ignoring her, he threw open the car boot. Blindly reaching in to scope out the cavern with his hand, his vision was clouded with blossoming anger. It wasn’t until he dug underneath the lining and his fingers touched something cold and hard that his heart almost stopped.

Slowly, he withdrew the object, staring at it in shock.

Fuck.

“Oh my God,” he heard Kate whisper, her voice seemingly lost in a wind tunnel, the same tunnel that robbed him of his breath, sucking him into a swirling vortex.

No. Not again.

In stunned silence, he stared at the gun he now held in his hand.

The handle was smooth, deadly, and it made him shiver. It was heavy and awkward. And it was Max’s. How the hell could this be Max’s? Why does he have a gun in his car? Why the hell does he have a gun
at all?

Danny’s face flashed through his head briefly, leaving him breathless. He was mesmerised by the gun – the feel of it, the look of it. It was like something out of the movies. It didn’t belong here – not in his hand, not in Max’s car. He stared at it, the barrel glinting in the sunlight, as he tried to catch his breath. It felt as if all the air had been squeezed out of his lungs.

Somewhere deep down inside of himself, he desperately wanted to believe that none of this was real. Not again. It was too much. What had they done to deserve this? What the hell was Max thinking? Where did he get this thing? He tore his gaze away from the gun to look at Kate.

She stared up at him, her tears reflecting horror and disbelief. Everything he felt, only magnified. It was like standing in the sand, watching the waves break over your feet and having the sand disappear from underneath you with the retreating water. He was being dragged asunder, all over again. Solid turned to liquid, the world tilted sideways.

Suddenly, he was moving. He practically levitated across the lawn towards Max and the boat shed. It loomed in front of him, and he was only vaguely aware that Kate was following him. She was talking, her voice weird and detached, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. The boat shed filled his field of vision and suddenly he was there. Max stood next to the boat, the bottle of whisky still in his hand. Gavin and Lacey hovered near the door, but he ignored them.

Everything melted away. The boat shed, Gavin, Lacey and Kate – everything. All he saw was Max. All he felt was the gun, a dead weight, heavy in his hand.

Dead weight.

Dead.

He saw Max’s eyes fall to the gun as his knuckles grazed against the leg of his jeans, struggling to hold it in his grasp. It was heavy. It was awkward. It was smooth. And it was Max’s.

Max’s gun. 

It was Max’s gun.

With no recollection as to how it happened, he was suddenly on top of Max. They were on the ground and he was punching him, only he didn’t feel it. It was like he was watching someone else do it. He could see himself punching him and he knew he was yelling at him but he couldn’t hear what he was saying. He punched him again, once more, for good measure. Only it wasn’t Max’s face he was punching. It was Danny’s. 

Danny’s face staring back at him from the dirt floor of the boat shed, eyes wild and confused – frightened.

He blinked away the vision, straddling him, panting heavily. He still held the gun in his hand. He didn’t want to put it down, he didn’t want anyone else to touch it. It was misery and it was death and they had had enough of both.

Then he was being dragged bodily upright. The sound came back into his world with a loud
whoosh
and everyone was talking at once.

“Finn!”

“Jesus, get off him!”

“Stop it!” 

He stumbled slightly, then found his footing again as Gavin pulled him backwards by his shirt.

“What the hell is going on?” Lacey demanded. 

He turned to look at them all, shrugging Gavin off him in the same instant. Staggering backwards as Gavin let go, he kept backing up until he couldn’t retreat any further. His back pressed up against the boat shed wall, his entire body tense and trembling. He stared at them in silence, his breathing laboured. Except Max. He didn’t dare look at Max.

Slowly, he held the gun out to show them. It was heavy and it was awkward and it was Max’s gun.

Max’s
gun.

With a sickening feeling, he saw the realisation and horror bloom on their faces. He tore his eyes away from them and stared at the gun for a moment. It was shaking.
He
was shaking. He couldn’t hear anything. No birds calling to each other across the bay. No cicadas. No water lapping just a few feet from where he stood. No breathing, no crying. Nothing.

“Who… whose is… where did you get that?” Lacey stammered, tearing her gaze away from the gun to stare at him in disbelief.

Blinking slowly, trying to wrap his head around it himself, he turned to look down at Max.

“Fuck,” Gavin whispered.

Max still lay on the gravel floor of the boat shed, his lip split and bleeding. All the bravado and animosity from earlier had disappeared. He looked like a frightened child, but Finn had no sympathy for him. The anger had burst forth and he could see nothing else.

From somewhere deep down inside, Finn found his voice. “Why was this in your car?”

Max stared up at him, clearly petrified.

“It was in his
car?
” Gavin choked.

Finn didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He was so busy trying to organise the thoughts banging about inside his head, he couldn’t do two things at once – try to stay sane and speak. It was impossible.
This
was impossible. This wasn’t happening. He hadn’t just found a gun in the boot of Max’s car. Not possible, not again.

“Why?” Kate whispered.

The heartache in her voice grabbed Finn by the throat and squeezed.

“Why do you have a gun in your car?” she prodded, the merest hint of hysteria creeping in.

Finn’s stomach rolled and lurched, and he felt seasick. She had tears rolling down her face and she looked so much like she did that day at the hospital, after Danny died. Blood rushed to his head as the anger burst to the surface once more. He whirled around to address Max.

“Yes, tell us why you have a gun in your car, Max.” He gripped the gun harder in his hand, his fingers flexing over the handle. He wondered absentmindedly if it was loaded. He had never even touched a gun before. What should he do if it was?

Max shook his head slowly, staring up at him with tear-filled eyes. The blood from his split lip dripped down his chin. 

“Answer the question,” Gavin said from behind him, his voice strained.

Max raised himself up onto his elbows unsteadily, his arms trembling as he glanced from Gavin to Lacey. Finn breathed through his nose, his fingers flexing around the gun.

“When were you planning on doing it?” he said coldly.

Max swallowed nervously. “I…”

“Tell me you weren’t going to do something bloody stupid with this thing!” Gavin demanded, cutting him off.

Max shook his head but he didn’t speak.

“You heard him – say it! I want to hear you say that you weren’t planning on shooting yourself with this fucking gun!” Finn exploded, waving the gun in front of him angrily.

His voice seemed to reverberate in the small building, echoing in his head.

Like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place, it all made sense now. The way Max had been lately – the nightmares and the drinking, the drifter lifestyle, the phone calls that were few and far between, the weight loss, the depression that had eaten him up – he was planning to kill himself, just like Danny did. The only difference was that they didn’t know what had made Danny decide to blow his own brains out – but they knew why Max was feeling this way. It was because of Danny – it was
his fault
. Because of
Danny
, Max wanted to kill himself. Finn’s heart slammed into his ribs with the force of a jackhammer.

Max stared at him for a moment before his face crumpled. He collapsed heavily back onto the floor, folding his arms over his eyes, weeping uncontrollably.

“God, Max –
no!
” Kate croaked.

Finn turned to see Gavin’s shocked expression as Lacey buried her face in his shoulder. Gavin draped his arm around her absentmindedly but his eyes were on Max. It all seemed so surreal. Words chased each other around inside Finn’s head and then they were coming out of his mouth of their own accord.

“You selfish bastard!” he yelled, standing over Max and waving the gun in front of him. “After everything we’ve been through, you were gonna do it to us all over again!”

He lurched forward, bending down to haul him upright until he was mere inches from his red, tear-stained face.

“You miserable, selfish
bastard!
” he yelled. “Don’t you get it? It’s not your fault – its
Danny’s
fault – he killed himself, it’s him you should be punishing, not us! All we’ve done is stand by you and try to help you and
this
is how you repay us? Where the hell did you get this thing, anyway!” he yelled, his voice ringing in his own ears. “Did you want one of us to find you, just like you found him? Did you? Who did you think would find you, Max? Fucking
answer me!”

Suddenly there were hands on him and voices surrounding him and Max’s face was gone. Gavin hauled him away again, throwing him backwards so that he scrambled back onto the floor of the boat shed, his head reeling. He was breathing heavily and his head felt like it was on fire, burning his brain, destroying everything – at the least, his self-control – at the most, his sanity.

“Back off!” Gavin yelled, kneeling beside Max and staring at Finn as if he had suddenly grown horns. “Just stop!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Finn’s eyes burned into Gavin’s. “We don’t deserve to go through this shit again!”

He tried breathing normally but it was like all the air had been squeezed out of his lungs and he panted instead. He caught Kate’s eye. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her nose all red and blotchy like they always got when she cried. Like the way they were the day they found out about Danny. Like at the hospital, where they sat with Max, his shirt and jeans soaked in blood.

He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, closing his eyes briefly in an effort to focus. He couldn’t hear anything except quiet sniffing. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze fell upon the gun. He must have dropped it at some point but he couldn’t remember when. He had to get rid of it so no one else would get hurt. His features hardened, as did his resolve. 

He ignored everything and everyone else as he scooped it up out of the dirt and again felt the dead weight in his hands. 

Dead weight.

Dead.

No more. He had seen enough death to last him a lifetime. His fingers wrapped around the handle of the gun one last time and he stared down at it in his hand. It looked wrong – it
was
wrong.

“What are you doing?” Gavin asked quickly, his voice laced with concern.

Finn turned on his heel and marched straight out of the boat shed and onto the sand, jogging a couple of steps before drawing his arm back and launching the gun high into the air. His shoulders burned as he threw it as long and as far as he could. It seemed to sail above the water in slow motion.

Danny’s face suddenly appeared in front of him, looking as he had the day he died. The torn, tearful Danny who had stared back at him with hollow eyes. The Danny who had asked him to tell Kate that he was sorry. The Danny who had put a gun to his head that same day and blown his brains all over the chintzy floral wallpaper. The Danny who had told him a thousand times that last month that he was “fine”.

Eventually, the gun arced downward and disappeared into the water with a dull
plop
.

It wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have known what he was planning to do.

He tried to get rid of the images that plagued him.

You should have stopped him.

The tears ran freely. Afraid to let anyone see the shame and guilt he felt, he just stood there, his back to them, silently torturing himself. The voices in his head did battle with each other, taking it in turns to condemn and absolve him, see-sawing him from one emotion to the next without giving him the time to wrap his brain around anything solid. He felt sick, his chest constricting with each passing moment. When he finally had enough courage to turn around, they were all staring at him. 

Max was standing next to Gavin, his nose and lip bleeding, blood mingling with the tears running down his face. He nodded almost imperceptibly at Finn. He wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t found the gun in Max’s car. What if he had missed it? What if they had woken up tomorrow morning to a ringing gunshot and another dead friend?

Gulping, Finn’s gaze fell to the sand beneath his feet. He was afraid that Max could see what he was thinking, and that somehow –
somehow
– what he was so afraid of would come true.