Pulled (27 page)

But then, so fast I don’t have time to stop him, he yanks himself free and rolls himself off the bed with a loud grunt; he grabs a pillow off the bed to hide his lower half, then heads for the door, turning over his shoulder before he goes.

“
I’ll just be in the shower,” he says and then leaves me alone and extremely frustrated.

After a restless night, I wake up to find the pillow beside me empty, save for a note on it. My heart quickens. ‘Happy Opening Night. You’re going to knock them dead.’

Opening Night. Has it really been four weeks since we met? I smile and clutch the note to my chest and then smell coffee. I leap out of bed to give him a big hug, but frown when I hear the shower on.

All right. Coffee first. After I take a big swig, I turn on the teakettle for Etash and smile. This is going to be a good day.

Etash

When I get out of the shower, I hear the teakettle screaming. I smile. Naya’s up and she’s making me tea. I wait for the sound of it to die down, but when it doesn’t, I get scared. Why isn’t she turning off the kettle?

Fear creeps into my veins.
Seth.
I rush out of the shower, stopping only to grab a towel and wrap it around my waist before I fling open the door. I’m not prepared for what I see.

Naya

While the tea water is boiling, I go into the living room with my coffee and smile. Everything feels so right. His Grams is back at the nursing home, Seth hasn't called me again, and our show opens tonight. All of our hard work is going to finally pay off.

As I walk into the room I go over to his giant floor-to-ceiling bookcase. The shelves are crammed tight with classic novels, books of poetry and textbooks. There is even a pile started on the floor. There are picture frames and a few random knick-knacks sitting scattered along the few empty areas of the shelves.

A small blue frame catches my eye. It’s Etash sitting on a rock overlooking a lake. So, he’s outdoorsy too?
Go figure.
Then I notice a larger family photo perched on one of the higher shelves. Setting my cup down, I reach for the photo. I have to stand on my tiptoes to get it. A thin layer of dust is on the picture, which I wipe off with my thumb. When the dust is gone, I can see that it’s a picture of Etash when he was 10 or 11, maybe. He’s grinning like the Cheshire cat, holding a fish just caught. I take a small intake of air when I notice that he didn’t have his scar yet. A small pain throbs in the pit of my stomach, mourning for the little boy with the once perfect face. I frown. He still is perfect. Turning my attention to the woman in the photo, I notice that she’s a dead ringer for Etash, right down to his glowing skin. This must be his mom. Suddenly, I can't wait to meet this woman, to assure her that I will take good care of the son she so clearly loves.

I glance next at his father, standing taller than the others. The father doesn’t look anything like Etash: pale skin, blond hair and big, white teeth. I recall Etash mentioning that his father was American, so the fact that he's white shouldn't shock me, but somehow it does.

There is still a bit of dust covering his father, and I want to see what traits Etash picked up from him. After a quick scrub, I focus in on the dad.
Huh.
He looks a little like the man who ... I rub more of the dust away.
No. Not a little alike.
I swallow hard. He looks
a lot
like him. Small beads of sweat start forming at my temples.
It couldn’t be? Could it?
The photo slips out of my hands and shatters at my feet.

Etash

“
Naya!” I yell, coming out of the bathroom. She’s standing, transfixed staring at the bookcase, completely oblivious to the sound of the screaming teakettle. I rush past her to turn off the water. When I turn back to look at her, she has gone completely white.

“
How did you get your scar?” she asks slowly.

My scar?
My eyes travel down to her feet where her eyes are focused and see the shattered frame. A picture of my family: of my dad.
Oh no
. She recognized him.

“
Please, Naya. I wanted to tell you. From the moment I first realized it was you, but, I just couldn’t, I didn't know how.”

She isn’t looking at me, just staring at the picture.

“
You were in the car with him, weren’t you? The car that killed my parents. That's how you got your scar?” her voice is so distant.

“
Yes,” I moan.

She shakes her head at me slowly. “No. Your last names aren't the same.” She doesn't want to believe it.

“
I had my name legally changed when I was eighteen to my mom's maiden name. I did it to piss my dad off, not to lie to you.”

“
But lie you did.”

I pull my hands through my hair.

“
Yes, I did. But that isn’t even the worst of it.” My knees give out and I slide down the wall next to the bookcase. I cradle my head in my hands. I’m going to lose her.

“
What’s the worst of it?” she asks after an eternity of silence.

“
I caused it. My father didn't kill them.
I did.”

She just starts shaking her head slowly, unable to believe it.

“
I’ve wanted to tell you for so long now,” I whimper. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“
I don’t understand. How?” she sputters.

“
I didn’t know for sure until that first day, when you said your name in acting class. But then, that was crazy, right? It couldn’t be you! I mean, what would the odds be of you showing up in my class? It was impossible.”

I’m talking so fast that I’m not sure she’s catching it all, but I can’t manage to slow down. It’s pouring out of me like lava, each word more damning than the last.

“
I tried to ignore you, tried to keep my distance, but then your pull on me...That
damn
pull. It started freaking me out. It was like you
knew
I was responsible for their deaths, and you were punishing me, but I couldn’t figure out how you were doing it. It took some time for me to realize you were feeling this
thing
too. But you didn’t seem to know who
I
was, which only made being near you so much more complicated.”

She doesn't say anything, but her bottom lip quivers.

“
And the guilt! The guilt was crushing me, Naya. The guilt I felt, I
still
feel every time I look at you, knowing what I've done to you!”

Her eyes gloss over.

“
Tell me what happened,” she says, not once looking up at me.

“
I was thirteen. We were coming home from a camping trip and I remember it was raining really hard, like
really
hard. I knew my father couldn’t possibly see where he was going. I’d never seen it rain like that before.”

“
I remember,” she whispers.

I have to make her understand.

“
I was scared out of my mind, I just wanted him to pull over and wait it out. He told me it was too dangerous to do that--that no one would be able to see our blinkers in the downpour. He tried to make me feel better by saying we were just a few minutes away from the exit. That’s when I started to feel …” I don’t know how to explain this to her.

“
Feel what,” she says, her eyes have finally come up off the floor. She's desperate for the truth.

“
I could never describe the feeling to my parents or anyone, and have never felt it again, until the day I met you. The feeling I had that night, it was like a rope had been tied around my waist and was pulling me. I can only assume now that it was pulling me toward you.”

A tear slips down her face.

“
That pull was so strong that I …”
here it comes
. “I tried to jump out of the car.”

“
You what?”

“
I know, I know, it was crazy. But, it was like I was under a spell or something. I just undid my seatbelt without even thinking about it. I opened the car door while we were still driving--I even had one of my legs out of the door. I should have been terrified, but somehow I was more afraid about what would happen if I didn't get out of that car and find whatever was pulling me.”

She wipes the tear off her cheek.

“
You were going to jump out of a moving car, in a downpour, on the highway?” she asks.

I rub the palms of my hands over my eyes, struggling to make her believe.

“
To be fair, I don’t really think I had a choice in the matter. Like I said, I felt … possessed. When my mom saw what I was doing, she started screaming which, of course, made my dad swerve and … well, you know the rest.”

Naya

Yes, I did know the rest. Their car plowed across the grassy median and head on into our sedan, taking my parents' life with it.

“
That’s the night I got my scar,” he says in the wake of the silence his confession has made.

“
They never told me there was a kid in the other car,” I whisper, but then, who, besides the fireman who rescued me, was around to tell me anything about that night? Would I have even listened if someone had? The ghost of a girl I was that night flew across my mind. No. That girl would have not registered anything except ‘your parents are dead.’

I scramble to my feet not sure what I am going to do, but know I need to get out of here.

“
I can’t be here right now,” I blurt out, grabbing his car keys and running to the door as fast as my legs will carry me. I don't feel my body as I slide the key in the ignition. I'm barely conscious as I pull out onto the highway. I don't know where I'm going, but I know there is one person who has some answers. Grams.

Chapter 17

Etash

What have I done? What have I done?
The chant rings in my ears as she slams the door and slips away from me and I go limp.

Naya

It's almost ten when I pull into the parking lot at the mall. I'm a wreck. My eyes are swollen and red and my face is streaked with tears. Wiping my face with the back of my shirt, I walk into the mall and find the nearest pay phone.

Plunking in a handful of change, I dial information and have them connect me to Naimi's nursing home. I'm on my last few quarters before I'm finally connected to her.

“
He told you, yes?” she asks, as though she knows what has just happened.

“
He told me that he killed my parents by jumping out of a car!” For some reason, I seemed to be blaming her for Etash's actions.

Naimi breathed patiently into the phone. “You are right to be angry that your parents are gone. It is tragic to have them taken away from you so young.”

Without meaning to, I start to weep.

“
You are right to be sad,” she continues as I brush a tear away. “But you are no right to blame your twin flame.”

I sighed. “He doesn't believe in any of that.”

She laughed. “He was always the stubborn one.”

I twirled the cord on the phone as the phone demanded more money. Dropping in my last two coins I ask her what I've been wanting to ask all along.

“
Do you believe my parents were meant to die that night?”