Pulled Within (37 page)

I let the silence settle between us. There was nothing he could say that would convince me I was wrong. I knew what I saw, and he needed to know I was going to protect him regardless of what he
was willing to
admit. “I will never let him do that to you again.” Our eyes slowly filled with tears. “I will
never
let him do that to you again,” I
repeated.

He hesitated for a second. Then hugged me, tightly. So hard, I
could feel my ribs buckle. “You can’t tell Mom,” he whispered.
“Please.” Then he jumped out of the car.

It wasn’t long after that that I saw him on his bed, asphyxiated with his own belt.

That was how I remembered him, even when I didn’t want to. But every year on his birthday, I forced myself to imagine what he might look like if he were still alive. How tall he’d be, how
handsome. If he’d
still have only three freckles under his left eye or if there would be
more. What a fantastic young man he’d be, if only…

If only.

I traced my scar, remembering the sacrifices I hadn’t been able to
make for him. Maybe he’d been more fortunate to have escaped.
“Happy nineteenth, Darren,” I whispered into the mirror.

“Happy nineteenth, Darren,” Hart echoed.

The sound of his voice made me smile. It was the only happiness I could have hoped to find on a day like this.

I turned around, watching him lean against the frame of the
door, dressed in only a pair of thin cotton sweatpants. “We’re not staying home today,” he said.

“We’re not?”

He shook his head as he walked over to me. His nose grazed my cheek, as though he was taking in my scent before he kissed the center of my scar. “We’re going out to commemorate Darren’s
birthday.”

Commemorate it? It was enough just to survive it.

“Don’t you do that every year?” he asked.

“No. I usually just smoke pot all day and hope to pass out at some point.”

He smiled. “So what would you do if you weren’t high?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I’d never been asked the question
before and didn’t have an answer ready.

I wasn’t sure if Hart’s silence meant he was thinking of
something, or if he was waiting for me to say more. He just breathed on my neck and held me quietly.

Finally, something came to me. “I’d like to see his grave,” I told him. “I haven’t gone back since the funeral.” I hadn’t been able to, though I’d tried several times. Each time I’d been alone by choice. I thought it was what I needed to do; it just ended up being too much. I never made it past the entrance of the cemetery.

Hart smiled. “Then that’s where we’re going.”

***

Several inches of snow covered the ground as Hart and I walked through the gate of the cemetery. A sidewalk circled the whole property; several shorter paths weaved among the graves, through
different patches of plots. We stayed in the middle, taking the narrower aisles
that led to Darren’s section. Hart’s hand clung to my mitten-covered fingers. His body was pressed closely to mine. I couldn’t feel him, even though I knew he was holding it tightly.

After the second hill, my pace began to slow. Hart’s arm wrapped around my shoulders and he pulled me into his chest. His smell was stronger than the pine in the air. I could tell he was trying
to use his warmth to thaw me.

“I should have brought you a blanket,” he said.

My whole body shivered. “I’m not cold.”

“We can stop if you need to.” He pressed his lips against my temple.

“No. I’m good.” I knew my feet were moving, but it felt like he was lifting them for me and placing them back on the ground, like
he was carrying every ounce of my weight and keeping me softly fogged, so
the realization of where we were wouldn’t hit me all at once. And while he was busy with me, I kept my eyes on the ground, staring at the different footprints that had been pressed into the snow. So many
shoes
and boots and sneakers had walked this path before us. Probably
would after us, too. I wondered if their hearts hurt as badly as mine.

I knew how close we were getting, even without my eyes following the names on the graves that we passed. I remembered all the stones that surrounded his plot, even only having been there
once. When the
prints in the snow weren’t enough, I began counting my steps. When we were only feet away, I stopped and glanced at Hart. “It’s that one,” I said. My head nudged toward the stone in front of us, but my
eyes
remained on his overcast gaze. My emotions seemed to be reflecting
back at me from within his vision.

“How are you?” he asked.

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Not even a
sound. Just a drop that started at my bottom eyelid and fell to my cheek. He caught it before it reached my chin, cupping my scar as his mouth brushed over mine. It was a tender kiss full of breath, encouragement and hope.

It was the pause I needed.

“I think I’m okay.”

I faced forward again, my side pressing against him as I took the final steps. When I came to a stop, the wind seemed to as well, a pocket of serenity hovering over us. It wasn’t warmth, but it wasn’t
cold,
either. It was a quiet, steady storm that held in place as I read the
words on his headstone.

Darren Ryan.

Son. Brother. Friend
.

Fourteen short years of life from start to finish, and now he lay in front of me, underneath a mound of snow and dirt, in a box that
would never be opened again. How was that even possible?

Had he really been gone for five years?

I closed my eyes and leaned my head into Hart’s shoulder. “I
miss you, Darren.” Hart’s grip tightened around me. “I miss you so much…” I opened my eyes and watched my exhale cloud from my lips.

“I remember the way he used to look at you,” Hart said. “The
way
his eyes watched you when you spoke, admiring you, eating up
every word you said.”

I smiled at the thought. I remembered that, too. But I
remembered more…

“I let him down.”

“No, you didn’t, Rae.” Hart’s arm wrapped over my stomach. “He knew he could go to you with anything and that he could trust you. But his pain was something you couldn’t fix.”

Aside from Darren and Hart, everyone else in my life had wanted to be saved at one point or another. I had watched Brady reach his rock bottom after falling again and again. But Darren
didn’t stand a chance. He was a little boy victimized by someone he trusted. He
started
at rock bottom.

He had nowhere else to fall.

“I just don’t understand, Hart, why didn’t he let me try?”

“Maybe he didn’t know how to get through his fear. Maybe he was afraid of what would happen to you if you tried. You can torture yourself forever, but you’ll never know for sure.” He was
right. “He
didn’t feel like he had a choice. But you do, Rae—
you
have a choice. You can either spend the rest of your life holding out for answers you’ll never get, or you can spend it remembering how much love
there was between the two of you and live your life in honor of that.”

I thought about the conversation I’d had with Brady. He’d said that
once he paid off his dealers, he would never look back again. No
dwelling
upon the regret, no wishing for a do-over. He was going to find
acceptance and move forward. Could I do that? Would the memory of the love between Darren and me be enough to let me
move on?

“I…” As my vision left the stone and slid to Hart’s face,
something
in the background caught my attention. It was a splash of red from the road ahead of us. The street ran around the back side of the cemetery, rising several feet above and overlooking the hills of tombstones. After Darren’s death, I’d refused to drive on it, even if
that meant taking a longer route. I’d heard only a few cars pass us since we’d arrived. It was all background noise. But now, I couldn’t drag my eyes away
from the red pick-up truck as it passed. It was an old model
—
old and familiar. There was rust over the door and all along the cab. It disappeared behind a row of trees before I was able to see the driver.

It was just a coincidence, I told myself. So many men in Bar
Harbor drove pick-up trucks, including Shane and Brady, and lots of them were old and red and rusty.

Gerald’s truck had been all of those things, but there was no way he was here. Not today. Not at the same time I was…

 “You okay?” Hart asked. “It looks like you just saw a ghost.”

My ghost
. His words were more terrifying than he realized.

A coincidence
, I repeated in my head.

I shifted toward him slowly, my eyes following. “Love,” I
answered
finally, “that’s all I want to remember between Darren and me.” I wanted everything else to go away, especially my memories of that man.

“I think that’s the right decision.”

“I know it is.” My voice wasn’t any louder than a whisper.

He looked toward the stone and tipped his head, trying to encourage me to take a step forward. It was difficult, but I did it…and then I took another, and another, until I stood over Darren’s
name. I filled myself
with breath, and I knelt down on the snow. I wrapped my hands around the top of the stone. It was freezing. My eyes filled and my vision blurred.
My fingers ached for his warmth, for the feel of his skin against
mine
—
not Hart’s…Darren’s. This wasn’t anything like embracing my brother. But it was the closest I’d ever be able to get to him. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering how alone I was now.

“I’m right behind you,” Hart said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

I closed my eyes and rested my face on the stone, on the side that held so many memories of Darren. The scarred side. My skin tingled against the cold.

I didn’t speak. I just let the thoughts flow in my head, and in my heart.

I’m here, Darren. Finally. I know it took me a while. Too long, really. I tried to come before…I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to see you here, to think of you as a headstone. And I didn’t want you to see the place I was in. It was ugly and it had been for years. Things are changing, though. I’m changing. I’m getting better. I’m…

Hart’s voice worked its way in. “Rae…”

I turned to face him and saw someone else walking toward us.
No—not walking, it was more of a limp. His legs seemed to be dragging his body along, like they were the only part of him that
could still bear
weight where the rest had fully deteriorated. My stomach began to churn as I studied him. He wore old brown slacks and a thick flannel shirt. A winter hat was pulled over his gray hair. His face was so stony, so grim. I couldn’t bring myself to look at his hands…I’d seen
them too much in my nightmares as it was.

I started to shake.

Hart leaned in and whispered, “That’s him, isn’t it?”

I stood as briskly as I could, so he couldn’t take me by surprise like he’d taken my brother. “Yes. That’s Gerald, my…grandfather.”

IN THE YEARS
since Darren’s death, I’d dreamt of the horror this man had caused, of the terror his hands were capable of. I’d never thought to
rehearse what I’d say to him if I had the chance to see him again. I never thought I would. I had no idea what to expect now that it was happening.

I was seething. “You don’t belong here,” I said harshly. “You
need to leave before this gets ugly for you.” Hart clutched my arm.

“He was my grandson.” That was all he offered.

I hadn’t heard him speak in person in so long. The voice brought everything back. He stood at a distance, with his hands clasped and resting against his thighs. The sight of them made the churning in
my
stomach even worse. I thought I’d be the same quivering, nervous
mess
I’d always been when he’d haunted my memory. But standing
before
him, next to Darren’s grave, remembering everything he’d put my brother through and everything I couldn’t save him from, I found
strength I never had back then.

I was the storm now.

“After what you did to him, he is
no one
to you.”

Before Gerald had left, I hadn’t gotten the chance to confront him about what he’d done to my brother. If he ever wondered how
much I knew, he didn’t have to question that now.

Hart slid past me and stood in front of Gerald. “Get the fuck out of here.” He was shouting, towering over Gerald’s weakened frame. The old man didn’t budge, so Hart said, “If I have to drag you out of
here, I will.”

He’d aged so much since the last time I’d seen him. His back was hunched; his arms were plagued by tremors. Coarse white hair
covered
his cheeks, and skin hung slack over his eyes. I had loved that face
once. I’d kissed it every night before bed and looked forward to seeing it every morning. Looking at it now, all I felt was hatred and disgust.

He exhaled a raspy breath. “I just want to talk to you, Rae.
Before I can’t anymore.”

“What does that mean?” I spat.

“I’m sick.”

“That’s for fucking sure,” Hart said.

Gerald coughed, hacking so loudly it sounded like he was going to throw up. He removed an inhaler from the pocket of his flannel and took a deep puff. He finally stood straight again, but still looked
like he was about to pass out. “I don’t have much time left.” He coughed again, this time into a handkerchief. There was blood on the white cloth. “I’m dying, Rae. I just need to make my peace. So let me speak to you real quick, and I’ll leave you alone forever.”