"We're almost there," I yell back. Which is good because I feel like I'm about to collapse.
Kaylee appears awestruck when we finally reach what we came to see, Comet Falls, three hundred and twenty feet of cascading glacier water—in my eyes, one of God's most beautiful works of art. Water rockets off the bluff, crashes into the rocks below, then winds down the mountainside. On a hot day, it's fun to go right down to the base and let the water splash onto your legs. It's too cold for that, so we watch from the rocks, but our faces still get misted. We sit. Kaylee tears up, whether moved by the view or something more, I don't know. She gropes around blindly, aimlessly with her hand, not wanting to take her eyes off the breathtaking scene before her. I take hold, squeeze tight. She moves in closer and lays her head on my shoulder.
"Tell me about your future, Kaylee," I say.
"What do you mean?"
"I want you to tell me what the future holds for you. What you want to do, what you want to be. Where you picture yourself five years from now, or ten."
She looks at me, says, "I guess it would start with an education. I'm not necessarily talking college, but definitely business courses. You see, I have this crazy idea of owning my own coffee and book bar."
"Why's it so crazy? It sounds perfect for you."
"I don't know. Owning a business seems kind of scary."
"You'll be great at it. A natural. What happens next? Marriage? Family?"
Now she takes her eyes from me, looks down in her lap. "I always imagined marrying an artist, a painter, or an actor—mostly, a writer." My heart begins to ache. "I could work the coffee shop while he sits at his laptop. We'd take breaks together."
"Kids?"
"Yes. Two, doesn't matter boys, girls, one of each, as long as they're healthy. And a cat."
"A cat?"
"Yeah, a tabby."
"Sounds nice."
Her eyes find mine again. "What about you, Austin? What did you imagine your life being like?"
"Maybe going to college on a soccer scholarship while studying English and literature. Marrying the girl of my dreams. She'd be beautiful in every way—heart, mind, and soul. Kids."
"Recite me one of your poems," she says.
"Let me think. Okay, how about this one.
I'm a ghost, but nothing more.
Air and vapor, invisible.
With a heart that beats a rhythm so rare
Only the stars can hear.
And she, of flesh and bone,
Alive, wild, gleaming.
Hovering above I watch her
Gliding, rushing, reeling.
My empty arms reach out for her
To touch, to feel, to know.
Yet I'm a ghost and nothing more.
Air and vapor, invisible."
"It's beautiful, Austin, but tragic at the same time. Is it about the one that got away?"
"More like the one that never was."
We grow silent among the water and the trees and the mountain air, breathing it in, feeling it pulse within us. Then Kaylee says, "Wouldn't it be great if we could just sit here and stay like this forever?"
"Yeah, it would," I answer. "Let's take a picture so we can." I take my camera from the backpack and we take a photo, falls at our back.
"Austin, do you believe in heaven?"
"I have to."
"What do you think it's like? Do you think it's like this?"
"I think heaven is anything you want it to be."
Hungry, I grab another PowerBar and another water and begin to munch. Kaylee's stomach growls, so I hand her a PowerBar as well. I take some more pictures, sneak in a couple candid ones of Kaylee, and shove the camera back in the bag. We make our descent holding hands.
The climb down is much easier, at least for me, using stronger muscles, less lung power. We arrive at Scarlet much quicker than we left her. "Wow, you really live up to your motto," Kaylee says when we reach the end of the trail.
"My motto? What are you talking about?"
"The quicker picker upper. You practically ran down that hill." She laughs hysterically at my expense.
"Am I going to have to hear paper towel jokes for the rest of my life?" I ask. "And anyway, I'm the Brawny guy. Bounty is the quicker picker upper."
"Probably." She turns to get in the car and I grab a pinecone off the ground and throw it at her, hitting her square in the back.
"Oh no you didn't," she says.
"Uh-huh."
She bends down, picks the pinecone up, and cocks her arm back. "Bring it," I say. She throws the pinecone and nails me in the forehead. I rub the spot where it hit. "Ow!"
Now we're both grabbing pinecones like maniacs and launching them at each other as fast as we can. I run after her and she squeals like when we were young and tries to get away, or maybe fakes trying to get away. I grab her around the waist and we both fall to the ground in a fit of laughter. My opportunity has arrived. It's time; I lean over her and kiss her, softly on the lips. They taste sweet just as I imagined. I pull back and look into her face, which has a strange expression.
"What was that?" she asks.
"I just thought—" I begin to say.
"You thought wrong," she says, standing up. "We should go."
"Kaylee, I'm sorry."
"It's fine, really. Let's just forget it. Come on, let's go."
We climb into the car, and Kaylee starts Scarlet up and revs her engine a couple times.
We stay quiet for a long time. Finally, Kaylee says, "I had a good time. Thanks for sharing it with me."
" 'Thank you for sharing it with me'? What are you, a Hallmark card?" I joke, even though the weight of her rejection still crushes me.
"God, whatever," she says, smacking me. "I'm just trying to be nice, you dork. What's our next stop on your journey to self-fulfillment?" she asks, looking over to me, cute little smirk on her face.
"Trevor," I say.
"Ah, yes, Trevor. I was wondering when you'd get to him. When we were at the party and you told him you wanted to talk to him, I got curious. So, he's part of your little pilgrimage this weekend? Why?"
"I can't tell you."
"Of course you can't."
"I think he may just need someone to talk to," I say.
"What, do you think you're like Dr. Phil now or something?"
"Shut up and drive," I joke, though nothing seems funny to me right now.
"You know what, Austin?" Kaylee asks.
"What?"
"Sometimes you're a real pain in the ass."
Chapter Fourteen
Kaylee, used to the drill by now, puts her ear buds in place before I'm even out of the car. I walk toward the large west side home, noticing the plants and bushes along the pathway. Some of them are turning brown with the change of season. It's almost tragic, really, how much we take for granted the beauty that surrounds us every day. I mean, I must have walked by these plants thirty or forty times in the last few months, but this is the first time I've really looked at them. I bet they were amazing in full bloom, but now they've wilted, close to death, before I even realized they were here. It makes you think.
I arrive at the door and ring the bell. Suz answers; her face brightens when she sees me. I'm starting to think Kaylee's right. Maybe she does like me, something I've never bothered noticing before.
"Austin!" She wraps her arms around me and hugs me tightly. She holds on a little too long for my taste.
I push her away quickly, but gently; I didn't want Kaylee to see. I look back at the car. Kaylee's entire body is rockin' in rhythm to her iPod, her eyes closed. Not a care in the world. I turn back to Suz. "Hey, Trevor around?" I ask.
"Trevor? You haven't come to see me?" she asks. She bats her eyelashes as she moves in close, wrapping her arm in mine, which I immediately shake loose. I can't believe I've never noticed her advances before; they're so obvious to me now. She leans in right next to my ear and says, "You know, Austin, I feel a close connection to you, a kind of energy d
ischarge whenever we're together. Do you feel it?"
Getting uncomfortable, I try to make a point, without really making a point. "All I'm really feeling right now is a little tired. Kaylee and I went hiking up at Mount Rainier earlier."
She backs off, hurt. She's sexy and all, but I just don't feel that way about her. "Oh" is all she says, eyes diverted toward the floor in what I can only imagine is utter embarrassment. I feel bad, hurting her like that, but I definitely don't want to lead her on.
"I really need to talk to Trevor," I say.
"Fine," she says pouting. "He's in his room."
"Thanks, Suz."
I head down the stairs to the Lair. That's what Trevor calls it, anyway. He's basically taken over the basement. It's the only space large enough for all his stuff, and I mean stuff: musical instruments, PlayStation, Xbox, and Wii. Why he needs all three gaming systems I'll never know. He also has a DVD player, movies, CDs, stereo, flat screen, laptop—he's spoiled. Both he and Suz are the result of divorced parents vying for, or rather buying, their kids' affection and attention.
When I enter Trevor's sanctuary, he's sitting on his bed, kicking back, reading a graphic novel. He greets me coolly. I'm not sure if he's angry with me for some reason or feels awkward about my visit. "What's up?" he says. He doesn't look up from his book.
"Can we talk?"
"About?"
"You."
"Me?" he says, finally looking up from his read. "What about me?"
"Well..." Thoughts rush through my head. Should I be doing this? Should I just mind my own business? Is this subject off-limits? Maybe I should just go. Will he even talk to me? I mean, we're friends, but more on a superficial level than anything else. He'll probably get pissed. My mouth doesn't listen to my head, as usual. "It seems like you've been going through some stuff lately."
"Stuff?" he asks.
"Yeah—um, we're good friends, right?"
"Sure."
"I just want you to know, you can talk to me. I'll take it to the grave, I swear," I say, crossing my heart with my index finger.
Trevor cringes at my words. "Why do you have to make jokes like that?"
"I don't know. To make things easier, I guess."
"For who?" he asks.
"For me, for you, for everyone."
"It doesn't make anything easier. I think it makes it worse. That's just my opinion, of course—take it or leave it."
"Sorry. Never thought of it that way," I say. Trevor always was oversensitive.
"So, what are we talking about here?"
Now I'm really worried that Trevor won't talk. "I was just saying that you seem to have a lot on your mind lately, and I wanted you to know that I'm here if you need someone to talk to."
"I don't have anything to talk about."
Crap. Failing. "Okay. I guess I'll go, then," I say.
"See ya," Trevor says. He goes back to his novel, but I see him watching me out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah, later," I say, then get up to leave.
Before I reach the stairs he asks simply, "You know, don't you?"
"What?" I say, although transparently. Trevor eyes me. "Yeah, I know," I answer. I walk back toward him.
He folds his book, lays it on the bed. "How?"
"I saw you at an all-ages show at the Viaduct. Kaylee and I were there."
"Shit! Sometimes I don't think. I get careless. Did Kaylee see anything?" he asks nervously.
"No, I told her I got food poisoning and didn't feel good. We left before she saw anything."
Trevor lets out a heavy sigh. "Thanks, man. You're a true friend," he says, loosening up.
"Does your sister know? Or anyone else, for that matter?" I ask.
"No."
"Are you going to keep it that way?"
"For now, yeah. I'm afraid of how people will react. I don't want them to freak out or anything," Trevor says.
"How long? I mean, when did you know? When did it happen?" It feels like nothing's coming out right.
"My first happened maybe three years ago, but I guess I've felt it for longer than that. I struggled with the feelings, probably overcompensated with girls. Trying to make the feelings go away. Of course it didn't work. I experimented a little. Then I met Chris at a party a couple years ago. We've been together since. I've never felt like this before. Not even with Shelly Baker."
"Really?" I say. Shelly was Trevor's girlfriend in the eighth grade. They were always all over each other, everywhere—in the school hallways, at the dances, at the movie theater. Everywhere. They seemed attached at the lips. Thinking back, Trevor always had a girl by his side, sometimes more than one. I can see what he means about overcompensating.
"Yeah, I didn't even like her all that much. I guess it was just for show, because I was already having some feelings I didn't quite understand, you know. I almost felt like at times I was outside my own body, looking in, trying to figure out who the hell was in there. It was weird."
"I feel like that sometimes," I say.
He looks at me and says, "Yeah, I bet you do."
"So, what're you gonna do?"
"I don't know. Keep doing what I'm doing. Keep the secret, at least a while longer. Chris's friends and family don't know either. We're not ready for people to find out. I know Suz would be okay with it, and Kaylee, but my parents? Justin? I don't think so."
"Your secret is safe with me," I assure him. I go to leave, but before I do, I say, "I don't know for sure, but I think everyone who cares about you will understand and accept you for who you are. I know I do."
"I don't know, Austin. You really think so?"
"Yeah, I really do. I also think it's important for people to be who they are inside. Otherwise, it's like they're not being true to themselves, their true nature, and in the long run, the sneaking, the hiding ... it'll make you crazy."
"You're probably right," Trevor says. "It's just not the right time. Not yet."
"I get that. Just know that there are people out there for you. I'll be here as long as I can."
"Thanks. I appreciate that." He approaches, gives me a quick hug, and pats my back like guys do.
"I have to go. I'll see you around, Trev."
"Hope so." I head back up the stairs, sneak out the door before Suz sees me, and get back into the car with Kaylee, who removes the buds from her ears.
"So?" she asks.
"It's all good."
"That's it? It's all good? You're really not going to tell me what's wrong with one of my best friends?"
"There's nothing wrong with him, Kaylee. He just needed someone to talk to, one person he could confide in so he doesn't feel so alone."
"What? Is he gay or something?"
This catches me off-guard, but when I look at her, I realize she's joking. "Right. We're talking about Trevor here, the guy who used to get it on with Shelly Baker? Get serious."
"All right. Good enough," she says as we once again hit the road.
Chapter Fifteen
"Where next?" Kaylee asks.
"Bertram Brewster," I answer.
"Who?"
"He used to go to our school, left in third or fourth grade. Everyone called him Bertie," I answer.
"Nerdie Bertie?" she asks, her voice lacking any sympathy at all.
"Yeah."
"So what's his dilemma?"
"I hope he doesn't have one."
"Why? What's he to you?" she asks, now eyeing me suspiciously.
"I just need to talk to him."
"All right, Mr. Button Lip. Do you even know where to find him?"
"I think so," I reply, giving her the last address I could find.
Bertie Brewster was in my class from kindergarten until he left Skyline Elementary. With his small frame, glasses, high-waters, and lisp, he was a prime target for bullies. Unfortunately, for him, I was in my bullying prime at the time. I picked on all kinds of kids, but for some reason Bertie was my favorite. Maybe I was scared of what he was, afraid to be like that: small, weak, inf
erior. Now look at me. I'm pretty much there. The reasons don't matter anyway. What I did was wrong. I want to make it right.
We pull up to a house, but I'm not sure if you can even call it that. It's more of a shack, really, paint peeling, roof caving in, one window boarded up. If I blew on it, it would probably fall down. I double-check the address to make sure it's correct. I exit the car and head up to the dilapidated house. One of the address numbers on the front falls off when I knock on the door.
"Bertie! Get the door, God damn it!" At least I know I'm at the right house. The door opens moments later. I recognize him immediately: still small, but he's lost the glasses and is way more muscular.
"Yeah?" he says.
"Are you Bertie Brewster?" I ask, just for clarification.
He laughs. "No one but my mom ever calls me that anymore. It's Double B now. What do you want?"
"Well, Double B"—it sounds stupid coming from my lips—"my name's Austin. We used to go to school together. Do you remember me?"
"No," he answers, too quickly to have given it any real thought.
I breathe deeply. I was hoping he would recognize me so I wouldn't have to explain too much. I say, "My name is Austin Parker. We went to Skyline together."
"Nope, still doesn't ring a bell."
"I was kind of a bully. I used to pick on you."
Now he studies me carefully, every feature, every detail, up, down, round and round, side to side, until it becomes clear. Anger spreads across his face.
"I remember you. What the fuck do you want?" he says.
"I've just come to apologize. I want to say I'm sorry for the way I treated you back when we were kids."
"You should be sorry, asshole!" he yells. "You used to kick my ass every day. Kids made fun of me, and when I came home with a black eye or bloody nose, my parents couldn't even look at me. Do you know what it's like to disappoint your parents like that? How it feels to have them look at you and just shake their head, knowing they wished you weren't their kid? No, you probably don't, Mr. Perfect. You don't look so tough anymore. I bet I could kick your ass now—how would you like that?"
"I wouldn't like that at all. I just wanted to apologize. I don't want to fight," I say, trying to remain calm.