The Light You Cast - 15. Chapter 15

On the road, thunder rolled through clouds lit up faintly by the city lights. Fat drops of rain began to splash against the windshield of Rayna’s car. The splatter became a steady hum, and by time we reached Jonathan’s place it became a full on downpour. I watched the raindrops travel around and absorb each other on their journey across the windows.

Jonathan’s fingers criss-crossed with mine on the car seat between us. Now and then he reminded me of his presence with the light pulse of his grip. Each time, it dragged my mind back into presence and away from the places where it wanted to drift. I pulsed back faintly. Then I watched the raindrops and began to daydream again about how good it would feel to run from everything, from everyone, and to be alone among the trees in a place where I could breathe. I could envision the pine needles, smell the forest floor incensed by rain. I imagined digging deep and burying myself beneath the pine-scented earth. Then he squeezed my hand again, and I stopped.

Eventually I became aware of Rayna studying me in the rearview mirror. I met her eyes instinctively. In them, I read a caution sign. The kind of concern that said she wasn't sure what I'd do next. I looked away. Right now all I wanted to feel was the deep familiar calm of melancholy, so I ignored her and continued watching the rain.

“You going to be okay, Michael?” Jonathan asked when Rayna pulled to a halt out front of the apartments.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Call if you need anything, okay? Even if it’s just to talk.”

Michael nodded. Rayna turned around to look at me over her shoulder. Her eyes moved over my face.

“Take care of yourself, Ethan,” she said. “You and Jonathan get some rest. I want you both to meet me at the Attic first thing in the morning. We have some things to talk about.”

“Like what?” Jonathan asked, but Rayna only shook her head.

“Nothing so pressing that we have to discuss it right this second. I think it’s better if everyone winds down for tonight. Go on, now. I’ll text you tomorrow when we’re heading out.”

Jonathan frowned and gave a dissatisfied sigh. “See you tomorrow morning, then. Goodnight.”

The rain poured over us like a waterfall the moment we stepped out of the car. While Jonathan immediately ran for cover, I walked with my face turned up. I wanted to stay outside and let myself be drenched. I liked the way it felt against my skin. Cold, fresh and cleansing.

“Come on,” he yelled from the entry. Reluctantly I came inside. He hopped impatiently at the entry, holding the door for me. He glanced at me over his shoulder repeatedly until we reached his front door.

“So those were the Jamesons,” Jonathan said as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. He unlocked it, shouldered it open.

“Yeah.”

“How did you live with that for so long?” he asked. We hung our dripping coats on the rack. After pulling off our soggy shoes, he sat down on the couch while I paced over the carpet. He pulled up his legs and crossed them, leaning toward me with his elbows on his knees.

“I just did,” I replied. “It seemed almost normal.”

Jonathan cringed. “Michael’s mom. What was her name? Anette?”

“Yeah.”

“She really laid into you. Was that normal for you too?”

I gave a terse shake of my head. “She never spoke to me like that before. That was a first.”

“She said some bad things about you, E. Are you okay?”

“I —” I tried to force some words through the barrier in my throat. “I think I’m feeling unstable.”

“What do you usually do when you feel like that?” he asked.

“I go out into the woods.”

“Anything else?”

“Cold water.”

“I’ll get you a glass, hang on.” He jumped off the couch.

“Not like that. Do you have any ice?”

“Ice? Yeah, in the freezer.”

“Okay.” I walked over to the kitchen and pulled open the freezer door. Then I proceeded to remove the entire bucket of ice.

“Uh, Ethan? What are you doing exactly?”

“Just let me.”

I took the bucket into the bathroom and closed the door. Leaned my back against it. The melancholy had transformed into a constricted feeling, and it kept getting tighter. I thought I'd escaped the panic, but just my luck, it had only been delayed. I didn’t want Jonathan to see me like this, with the walls closing in on me. My heart racing. Caught between wanting to sprint out the door and wanting to slam my fists into the wall. I didn’t want anyone near me at all.

I turned on the tap and filled the tub with cold water, then dumped the ice into it. I threw my clothes into a pile on the floor and stepped in.

I sat down, then laid back with a shudder that racked through my body. With my ears underwater and my eyes closed, I drew air into my lungs until they stretched painfully tight. I imagined I was back in the mountains, sinking deep into mirror lake.

If only I could escape this life, I thought. Escape myself. Just for a while, free of the dread that weighed me down. I took a few drifting ice cubes into my fists and rubbed them over the center of my chest. I raised them to my temples. The cold bored a small hole through my mind. When the chill reached my bones, something released in the back of my head, and the panic finally subsided.

*****

“Does the ice water really help?” Jonathan asked me a few minutes later. I layed next to him wrapped loosely in a towel, while he sat stroking my cold wet hair away from my face. His hands felt hot.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Usually.”

“You feel so cold. Like a corpse or something.”

“I’m still alive,” I replied. I closed my eyes as the pad of his thumb gently stroked my eyelids.

He pressed his lips to mine, next. They felt even warmer than my hands, and against my frozen skin they seemed like fire. His kisses traveled down my chest and lingered in a trail down the center of my stomach. He pulled aside my towel. I shuddered and felt my body lift up against his mouth.

“Yes,” I hissed out hoarsely. The heat of his mouth against the coolness of my skin felt incredible. My voice cut into a moan when his tongue swirled around the head of my cock, then engulfed me completely in his throat. A few minutes of his burning hot mouth sliding over me, and he brought me to a swift release.

There was nothing quite like holding Jonathan in the softness of his bed. We clung together, kissing now and then, relishing in each other’s taste, smell, and comfort. A surge of warmth traveled from my chest all the way down to my feet.

“I love you,” I said, and kissed him again softly. The words slipped out unbidden, but I didn’t mind. They were true, after all.

His breath caught, and the gentle way he smiled against my mouth made the whole world seem to soften around the edges.

“I love you too,” he replied. He touched my face and traced over my brow bone and cheeks like he was a blind person trying to learn the shape of my face.

“What are you doing?” I asked, amused.

“Just reassuring myself that you’re real,” he said.

“I am,” I said, searching his eyes. He looked sad, somehow.

“I don’t think you realize how much I miss you when you’re over at the Gordons’," he said.

“You want me to come back.”

“I can’t help it. You’re my drug,” he smiled. “Like heroin or crack or something.”

I let out a laugh. “I want to, I do. Give me just a little longer, okay?”

“I’ll give you anything you want,” he said. He pressed himself up to me, hard against my leg.

I groaned and kissed him again. We tangled ourselves in the sheets and lost ourselves to the world.

He fell asleep afterwards, but I didn’t. I sat watching him for what might have been the hundredth time. I couldn’t help it. To me, he was exquisite, a work of art created just for me. I couldn’t contain the feeling he gave me, so I took out my journal.

I thumbed back through the pages I’d written over the past few months. There might have been fifty of them filled with words dedicated to Jonathan. I scanned through them, and reached down for his hand under the covers. I felt sad knowing he was lonely for me at night. I wished I was ready, but I knew I wasn't.

My therapist had said something about free writing. He said the practice could reveal hidden thoughts, if I allowed them to come out unhindered. So I decided to try it tonight. I closed my eyes for a moment and cleared my mind. When I opened them again, I let my pen take over. The first few lines seemed meaningless, then again, as always, words about Jonathan poured out.

I say those words, and the purity of your smile makes your lips glow. I almost can’t stand the way you look at me. Even though I stare into the void, even though I walk through the valley of the shadow. Even when I face the black tar nothingness that drowns me from the inside out. How does the doubt clear from you so easily? You reach out to grasp my hand. Please don’t let me pull you under.

I stopped, read the words again. I had to work through this if I was going to be here for him. But how? What should I do to finally get rid of the fear eating away at me? Should I dive into it? Turn myself in to the police and just get it over with once and for all? God, what a horrible thought.

I turned off the bedside lamp and curled up under the covers. Discomfort made me want to toss and turn, but I knew it would wake him up. So instead I slid up close to him and drew him in against my chest. I closed my eyes and tucked my chin against the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of his hair.

If I turned myself in, I wouldn’t be able to do this with him. I’d crumble and die, if I couldn’t do this.

What a mess.

*****

We both startled at the sound of Jonathan’s phone alarm blaring into the early morning.

“Turn it off,” I mumbled.

“I’m trying.” He slapped around until his hand hit his phone, and we returned to blessed silence. Five minutes later, it screamed at us again.

“Why so early?” I asked.

“Rayna wants us to meet her at the Attic,” Jonathan mumbled.

“But why so early?” I asked again.

“She wouldn’t tell us, remember? Just ‘first thing in the morning,’” he said, mocking her voice.

“Ugh.”

We stumbled through showers and coffee, got on the bus and arrived at 8:00 AM to a store that was locked and dark. Jonathan angrily fished his phone out of his pocket and called Rayna.

“You told me you were heading out, like, an hour ago. Why are we here before you?” he snapped. “Oh, you stopped for breakfast? Did you get anything for us? Fine, you’re forgiven. Okay. See you in a few.”

He twisted the key in the lock and opened up the doors. “She’s getting us breakfast burritos from this place around the corner from her house,” he said. “They’re really.”

I walked into the dark dusty smelling shop and its familiar crowded racks. Jonathan flipped on the power and lit up the entire store. The birds started squawking loudly.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

A minute after he ran upstairs, Chuck and BeeBee both swooped down toward me. The fought over who got to sit on my shoulder while I ducked. A feather or two was tossed into the air before they settled on both shoulders.

“Good morning sunshine,” Chuck sang loudly in one ear.

“Arr, me matey,” squawked BeeBee.

“Oh my God, leave him alone,” Jonathan called from upstairs. “Chuck, Beebee, come get your breakfast.”

I cowered for a moment longer until I was certain their raptor claws had released me completely and they were safely out of sight.

“Are they always that chipper first thing in the morning?” I asked as Jonathan came back down.

“Always,” he snorted. He came up to me and dusted feathers off my shoulders. “Would you take that pile of jackets off the register and bring it upstairs for me?”

I helped him around the shop for a few minutes until Rayna finally arrived, bearing a bag full of burritos. Michael came in behind her with four paper cups of coffee in a carrier.

“Sorry we’re late, the place was already packed when we got there. What time do you have to work today, Ethan?”

“Not until two,” I replied.

“All right. Come on, we can eat upstairs.”

Jonathan and I cleared off a wide table, which took a good five minutes of shifting piles around, before we finally had room to sit.

“So what’s this all about, Rayna?” Jonathan asked.

“Legal representation. I’ve been working on getting a family lawyer hired to iron out Michael’s custody, but after last night I think we need her to talk to you as well, Ethan. She’s coming by in about half an hour.”

I stopped mid-bite and set my burrito down. “Half an hour?” I asked.

“Yep. Mrs. Jameson threw some nasty stuff at you. I know I threw her off her game pretty quickly, but she could change her mind any time about that call to the police. Right now we have the upper hand and I intend to keep it that way.”

“She can’t really charge him with kidnapping me, can she?” Michael asked. “I went willingly.”

Rayna shrugged. “It’s not my arena. That’s why we need a lawyer. A friend recommended someone named Elsie Williams. She’s got a good reputation.”

“Is she expensive?” I asked. My savings only amounted to a few hundred dollars. If I knew anything about lawyers, that would hardly make a drop in the bucket of fees.

“Don’t worry about that,” Rayna said. “I’m covering it.”

“I can’t let you do something that big for me —”

She cut me off with a twist of her hand. “Listen, Ethan. It’s not a problem for me. Not even a stretch. Remember when I told you to consider me like Jonathan’s mom? Well, if anything happened to you, he’d be devastated. So if you don’t let me do this for you, I will personally make you regret it.”

I put up my hands, giving in immediately. “Okay.” I said it, but I felt anything other than okay about talking to a lawyer. Appetite officially killed, I crossed my arms and sat back nervously. The rest of the conversation at the table was totally lost on me, but it didn’t matter. They were all absorbed in talking to each other, and left me alone with my nerves.

When the lawyer came in, she didn’t look like the sharp-suited image I had in my mind for someone of her profession. She was about sixty years old with cropped gray hair, wore a yellow tee and jeans with comfortable, worn-in loafers and a smile to match. After we all introduced ourselves and shook her hand, she sat at the table with us, put on her reading glasses, and set up her laptop to type notes.

The conversation started without needing my input at all, so after greeting her I felt more than happy to sit back and let them talk out all the details. Michael spoke openly about his relationship with his parents, sharing details about their lives that stretched from the time they lived in Calgary and spanning all the way until last night’s unexpected encounter. Rayna shared the photos she took of the injuries his father had dealt him. All the while, Elsie asked questions and tapped away at her keyboard.

“You said you lost consciousness during the struggle with Mr. Jameson. Were you fully conscious and aware when you entered Ethan’s truck that night?” Elsie asked.

“Yeah,” Michael said. “I was only out for a minute.”

She gave a nod, and turned to me. My silence wouldn’t be able to last forever, I knew. Still my jaw tightened and my pulse began to race.

“All right, Ethan. Can you give me your full name?”

I hesitated. I could have lied, but I knew it would catch up to me if I did. Everyone was looking at me. Jonathan must have sensed my tension because he reached for my knee under the table, but I slid away. It was too distracting. I needed to focus on keeping above water.

“Can you give me your last name, please?”

I swallowed. “Uh, Richardson. My full legal name is Elliot Richardson.”

“But you go by Ethan.”

I nodded, and she made a note.

“And how did you come to be living with the Jameson family?” she asked.

“They offered room and board in exchange for some maintenance work around the house. That was around two years ago.”

“Can you tell me what happened the night the two of you left the home?”

“Sure. It was a bad fight. He knocked Michael out cold. I didn’t want him to get hurt any worse, so I pulled Mr. Jameson off him, and—” I tapped my fingers, pulled them into fists, and rolled my knuckles. “Uh, like he said. I laid into his dad pretty hard. Told Michael to get in the truck. I asked him where he wanted to go, and he didn’t have a plan, so I offered to let him come along with me, and he accepted.”

“But you didn’t consider involving the police,” she said. When I shook my head, she looked perplexed. “Can you help me understand why not?”

Shifting uncomfortably, I shrugged. “I was only thinking about getting him out of there,” I said.

“But you had some time to think it through afterwards, and you still didn’t call.”

I frowned down at my fists. My fingers kneaded against each other nervously. I tried to still my hands but I found that I couldn’t.

“Listen,” she continued. “I’m not trying to incriminate you, Ethan. I’m trying to determine if your actions could legally constitute kidnapping. I’m here to help you any way I can. Now take a breather, all right? Michael, did your mother have any knowledge of where you were going? Did she say anything that might have given you a sense you had her permission to be with him?”

Michael looked pale, but he nodded. “She’s the one who put my luggage in the back of Ethan’s truck. And I called her on the train. She said she understood why I had to get away for a while and told me about her cousin who lives in Toronto. That’s the Gordons. She told me to go there. And she called them and told them I was coming. That counts as permission, right?”

“Exactly what I’m looking for.” She gave a nod. “Yes, it’s a solid argument...”

Nausea in the pit of my stomach made me see stars. I barely heard anything else she said. I stood up, shoving my chair backwards. “Excuse me,” I said.

The bathroom was all the way downstairs. I barely made it to the toilet before I threw up. After the heaving stopped, I rinsed my mouth a the tiny stand alone sink and stared at myself in the mirror. Take it down a notch, I told myself. You’re not going to jail. You’re not going to jail for kidnapping, at least. Get a grip.

I pushed away from the sink and forced myself to go back up and face them. The stairs met my feet slowly. I gripped the rail on my way back up.

“I think we’re done for today,” Elsie was saying. “I’ll probably want to call with some follow-up questions over the next few days.”

“Hey,” Jonathan said. “Quick question before you go. If we wanted to ask you some questions about an unrelated case, would that be okay?”

I glanced at him as I sat back down.

“I could work it into the contract,” she said. “Want to make an appointment?”

Jonathan nodded. “Yeah. Got anything on a Tuesday?”

Tuesday was the only day of the week both Jonathan and I had off work. I took a long drink from my coffee cup.

“I can do next Tuesday at three.”

I shook my head at him, but he ignored me.

“Book it, please,” Jonathan said. “Thanks for coming, Elsie.”

Rayna and Michael thanked her as well, and a moment later, she was gone.

“Come on, Michael," Rayna said. "Let’s get an early start downstairs. I’ll let you go at three to make up for it.”

“Yes!” Michael pumped a fist into the air, then brought out his phone and started a flurry of texting as he followed her downstairs.

I picked at my burrito and scowled.

“You’ve got to get this over with, E. It’s been eating you up for way too long. This is the perfect opportunity to get some legal advice about your situation. We can’t let it fly by.”

“I’m not ready,” I said.

“Well I am. I’m tired of this. I’m sick of you being a nervous wreck all the time.”

“I’m handling it okay,” I said.

“But you’re not, E.” He looked so sad, I couldn’t even get angry.

“I just need more time,” I said. “Just a little more.”

“You do have a little more time. Tuesday’s five days away. You even have time to talk to your therapist about it first.”

My skin tightened as a million thorns stuck into it. Sweat pinched out of every pore. I stood up and paced the room.

“You're not handling it okay, E. You really don't believe me? You can’t even stay with me more than a night at a time because you’re losing sleep, tossing and turning and worrying and writing. You think I don’t notice, but I do.”

I continued to pace.

“It’s time,” he said.

I grabbed the railing and grit my teeth. Downstairs, Michael tried to count out bills into the cash register while Chuck pecked at one of his shirt buttons. Rayna arranged earrings on a stand and stopped for a moment to hold one up by her face in the mirror. Their images became distorted behind the blurring of my eyes.

“Ethan,” Jonathan demanded.

“Yeah,” I finally agreed. “It’s time.”