Back to You (7 page)

But I still block Vuk’s lips before they find mine. I free my head from his feverish grasp and feel the cold night air sting my numbed cheeks.

He slowly releases me, and I give him a tender smile, not wanting to hurt him.

Then a familiar voice brings me back to reality. Donn is calmly taking in the scene. He’s wearing the laidback expression he uses when he wants to curb his emotions, keep control. But I can see behind that stolid mask he wears. His eyes betray his profound anguish, but he would only have cut in if he had seen me resisting. In the meantime, torment was eating him up inside.

“Please!” he roars, furious. “What the hell are you doing?”

My smile disappears, as does Vuk’s serene expression. He’s anxious, worried. But he doesn’t lose his cool.

“What?”

“Do me a favor and control your instincts,” says Donn, his tone hard as steel. “What are you doing to her?”

“Nobody’s forcing you to watch,” Vuk barks.

“You have no idea how loudly Stella’s thoughts ring out,” Donn snarls. “It’s as if she’s yelling in my face.”

Vuk ignores him.

“Keep away from her,” Donn warns. “Just try to lay a finger on her again against her will.”

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” Vuk interrupted. “You sunk your canines too deep into her!”

Donn ignores him and walks up to me, trying to pry Vuk’s arms from around me.

“Stella, are you ok?” he asks, sincerely worried, while Vuk curses him. I want to scold him for his language; his brother must be a bad influence on him.

“Of course,” I shrug. “I’ll try to think in a lower voice. But please, get out of my head!”

There is an instant of silence. I can’t believe that this is the same place where I first had a life-changing conversation with Donn. He releases his grip.

“I’d like to be able to,” he replies jokingly to my thought, in a murmur so low, it’s barely audible.

Vuk sneers, his hands are shaking.

“Stella wasn’t kidding on the phone when she mentioned the power you use on her.”

“Power,” confirms Donn, gratified.

Vuk shakes his head and takes a deep breath.

“You didn’t tell her, did you? What’s up? Afraid she’ll choose me? I don’t have to play dirty.”

“Just go, Vuk,” says Donn.

“Why should I?” Vuk grabs on to me again. “I’d rather stay here right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Enjoy the moment, while it lasts,” Donn hisses. “Glad to see you having a good time.”

“If you could give us some privacy,” retorts Vuk.

“Want a hand to see me out? And I mean in the literal sense!”

“Just try. It’d be fun to see who gets thrown out first.”

“Give it a rest, Vuk. My patience has its limits,” warns Donn.

“The
truce
is proving hard, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask naively.

Donn ignores me.

“Need anything else, Vuk?”

“Nope. All I need is here in my arms.”

Donn keeps staring him down, but Vuk doesn’t retreat. He’s tense, visibly troubled. His hands are shaking and he releases his grip on me.

A chill creeps down my spine. Are Vuk and Donn about to have a fight, right here in Jeff’s bar? Surely they wouldn’t dare. Maybe I don’t realize just how close they are to coming to blows. All it needs is the wrong word, and it could all go south in a hurry. I turn pale.

“Just stop this.” If my voice wasn’t so hoarse and quiet, it would have been a roar.

Vuk doesn’t seem to hear me. I turn to Donn. Frozen with fear, I look his perfect features up and down. But rage seems to have momentarily replaced all emotions.

Vuk is staring Donn down, ready for action. Both are hyped up, teeth bared. They turn to me irritably.

“Look, calm down.” I force a hysteric laugh. “This is a party.” The sound of an electric guitar almost drowns out my words.

“Stella’s right,” concedes Donn.

Vuk doesn’t take his eyes off the older man.

“Right. I don’t think Stella would be happy if I attacked her bloodsucking pal.”

“Cool it, Vuk Wolf,” orders Donn. “You wouldn’t want to do something like that in front of her.”

“I don’t think she’d distract me.”

“Vuk remember I decided that I didn’t want you to forget about my party.” I hope my clumsy attempt to change the subject is not too obvious.

“Yeah,” he replies cautiously.

“Well, seeing as it’s still my anniversary, what I’d really like is for you two to get on.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” says Vuk.

“Ok. But can’t I be friends with both of you?”

Donn shakes his head slowly. I avoid looking into his face so as not to see his expression. He takes a while to answer; maybe I was right not to look at him.

“I’m afraid not, Stella,” he says grimly. “You care about Vuk. So he’d better keep out of my way. You wouldn’t be at all happy if I hurt your little werewolf friend.”

“I knew how much you liked him.” Vuk smirks. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

I can see how disgusted he looks and I don’t know what to say. “Sorry.”

“Let’s not worry about it too much,” Vuk says. “Everything will get back to normal once he goes. But I’m guessing this isn’t just a short visit, right?”

“Right,” confirms Donn.

“I don’t like the turn things are taking. I just hope he’ll get the hell outta here soon.”

I would be totally lost if Vuk were to abandon me, I’d miss him badly. But what if he did? But if Donn stays, how can Vuk stay? Would he ever forgive me? What a headache this whole situation is! But I want Donn to stay with me forever, too.

I rest my head on Vuk’s chest.

“You’ll bear with me, won’t you? Will you always be my friend?”

“I think so. I’ll always be your friend.”

“Even if I have feelings for Donn?”

“That’s the deal,” he murmurs, his words steeped with pain. “I don’t care who you have feelings for.”

Relieved, I release myself from his embrace and try my best to maintain my cool, knowing full well that Donn’s reactions to my words would be crushing. When I look at him, my face wears a protective mask and the silence becomes suffocating.

I feel I can cut the atmosphere with a knife. The electricity in the room is at overload. Only when I start feeling faint do I realize that I am holding my breath.

“So, just how long are you planning to stay?” Vuk barks at Donn.

“Vuk…” I object, surprised. “However long he wants. You can’t throw people out of Jeff’s bar.”

“No, but I’m allowed to ask. I don’t think I broke any rules of etiquette.”

Donn raises an eyebrow and turns to me.

“Jeff will be here any minute now. I came to say goodbye to you properly. There was no time earlier.”

“This has been the longest party ever,” I protest. Donn runs a comforting hand across my cheek.

“It’s over now, though,” he says. “I’ll be back so soon, you won’t even have time to miss me. Be good, please.” His whisper is just an inch from my neck.

I nod. Who knows how many other surprises are in store for me this evening?

Vuk follows Donn out with his eyes.

“Will you tell me something?” he asks, peering at me through the tufts of hair that have fallen in front of my eyes, his usual crooked smile on his lips.

“Don’t I always tell you everything?”

“Just promise.”

“Ok,” I say, knowing I’ll regret it. “I promise.”

“I noticed that you were surprised when you realized I was bringing you here.”

“And?”

“I was just wondering why else you thought I might have made you dress like that.”

“Well… I figured it was for a special event.”

“What do you mean by ‘special’?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You promised.” He grins.

“I know.”

“Are you embarrassed to tell me?”

“I don’t want to make you angry. Or depressed. That would be worse.”

Vuk frowns and mulls over my words.

“It doesn’t matter. Just tell me, please.”

“Remember when you told me you had a brother?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I was hoping you had changed your mind, that you had decided to introduce me to your family after all.”.

A wave of emotions sweep over his face. Some of them I recognize––amazement, rage, torment. But in the end he regains his composure, his face neutral again.

“My… family.”

“Yes. I never imagined that tonight’s event was going to be a banal human occurrence… my party.”

“Your
human
party,” he says, unruffled, underlining the key word. “And do you think that meeting my family would be a special event?”

“Of course,” I nod, biting my lip.

“The sort that you’d have to dress up for?”

I lower my eyes to hide my shame.

“I don’t know how these things work. It just seemed to make sense to me that… for my anniversary…”

“Trust me, you’d soon change your mind,” he says, looking over my shoulder at someone. “I have to go.” He gives me a hug.

“I know,” I sigh.

“I’ve got something… I have to do tomorrow. But I’ll see you in the afternoon, after class.”

Jeff clears his throat loudly behind us.

I quickly leap out of my embrace with Vuk, my cheeks reddening.

“Jeff, great to see you. There you are!”

Vuk leans against the desk, nonchalantly, looking at me out of the corner of his eyes.

The worry and irritation on Jeff’s face are palpable.

“Still buzzing round her, like a bee around honey, eh?”

Vuk seems unruffled as he walks away; he gives a cool, polite nod to Jeff as he leaves the room.

“Oh, Stella, I’m glad to see you smiling,” Jeff says. “I was so worried about you!”

“Sorry. Everything is ok now, really.” I feel Vuk’s CD in my pocket.

“It’s so good to see you finally out of the house for something other than work. And this leads to my present …”

Jeff has a huge smile on his face as he tosses me the keys to the Pontiac. He puts his arm through mine and leads me into the bar, where other musicians are stepping up the tempo.

As we get to the counter, Scott looks at me happily and Tyler, up to his neck in work, nods at me cheerfully.

“Your stuff,” shouts Scott, pointing to the far end of the bar counter.

We head toward the exit, and I turn to Jeff.

“Do you know Vuk?” Jeff picks up my gifts from behind the bar and stuffs them under his arms.

“Yes,” he says curtly, and changes the subject. “You can say thank you for the presents after you’ve opened them. They’re all from people you see at the bar all the time, right?”

I nod, and toss the keys up and down, reflecting. Scott must have told everyone about the accident and his suspicions about Vuk. He thinks he’s to blame. But it’s my fault, I insisted on staying with him that night.

“Did you recognize Tyler, Scott’s nephew? What a sweet kid.” Something in his tone makes me think he’s comparing him to Vuk.

“Yes, he is,” I agree. I wonder if he’s using some kind of psychological trick to turn me against my best friend.

“Will you come back to see him soon?”

“Sure. Tomorrow after school. I often come here to study. Don’t worry.”

“Of course not!” he exclaims, trying to hide his satisfaction.

“What’s up with your finger?” Jeff notices the dressing and bandage.

“Nothing serious, I just cut it with the show program.”

“You never change!”

Old Habits

I’m relieved to get out of the bar, and can’t wait to leave the lanterns and decorations behind. I turn to Jeff, walking alongside me in silence. Then a satisfied smile spreads across his lips,.

“Now you can open the present from me and Scott.”

I come to a sudden standstill in front of the beauty, parked on the other side of the road. An amazing Pontiac GTO, spanking new. Well, new for me. I love it! I can’t deny it. It fits my personality like a glove––bizarre and out of place.

“Get in,” insists Jeff, enthusiastically. But I’m rooted to the spot, hypnotized by the massive red bow stuck to the hood. It’s a faded black color, with big, square bumpers.

Jeff bursts into laughter and takes the keys from my hand to open the door. Then he places the keys firmly in my palm again.

I tear off the bow and toss it to the ground. My dad opens the door on the driver’s side and I leap inside without any further encouragement.

To my relief, the engine purrs into action immediately. Just a touch on the accelerator makes the engine roar. Jeff loads up the trunk with the gifts as the classic roars into life, spitting out black fumes over him that almost choke him. He climbs into the car gives me a dizzy look.

When I roll past the entrance to the bar, Scott and Ronald are amongst those watching my deafening hunk of steel. I keep my eyes on the road ahead and only relax when I turn onto Main Street, leaving the bar far behind me.

The radio is a blast from the past, but it works! On first inspection, I wasn’t expecting too much out of it. But you’ve gotta expect some flaws in a car that old.

“Thanks, Jeff, it’s fantastic!” The dark red interior looks more like the inside of a coffin. It’s clean and neat, but I can smell gasoline. The dashboard smells of lemon air-freshener and the leather seats still have a smell of dampness about them.

My new car––a museum piece. The typical car you see in zombie films and things like that. It’s perfect. I don’t know if it could get me out of Medford, but time will tell.

“I’m glad you like it,” says Jeff, uncomfortable with my abundant gratitude. “It’s one of those old sets of wheels that never breaks down. The type you see at the scene of an accident without any scratches, in the middle of a wreck.” This seems like further proof that Scott told him about my accident and that he’s well aware of how clumsy I am.

“I’ll stay here with you until you feel better,” he adds, confirming my doubts.

“Everything will be fine, Jeff. Don’t worry about me,” I smile reassuringly.

We exchange a few brief words about the bar, tonight’s threatening clouds, and about Vuk. Jeff doesn’t like him. He doesn’t think he’s a suitable friend for me.

Luckily, the conversation comes to an end shortly after when we see our driveway appear in the distance uphill, lit up from a distance by the headlights.

We finally arrive at Jeff’s house, which has not changed over the years. I have been living there alone since before summer. It’s a two-story, two-bedroom house Jeff and my mother bought together early on in their relationship. The house is small, with only one bathroom that I’ll have to share with him. But I don’t mind. One of Jeff’s best traits is that he is either out or watching a game on TV. He’s discreet, talks little, and minds his own business. Investments and sports are his life, as having a job and a family are meant for other people.

I turn off the engine, jump out, and go to unload his luggage. “You don’t have to carry them, you’re the party girl tonight,” Jeff says.

I’ve always been a bit slow, but I think I can manage carrying a couple of suitcases.

“I’ll survive, don’t worry.” I struggle with the suitcases under my arms and Jeff, carrying my presents, slams the car door behind me.

The roots of the trees, covered in damp grass, weave over the ground in the woods next to the house. I get wet under the gentle rain as I look for the house keys through the mess at the bottom of my purse. We manage to get everything inside and upstairs in a single trip. His window faces west, overlooking the small garden and the woods.

Jeff’s room holds no secrets for me, even if I never come in here. In the 23 years since my mother left, nothing has changed. I’ve lived here from the time I was born. The walls are still the color of speckled green and like light filtering through leaves, the furniture is white. The wooden floorboards creak throughout the house. I remember missing their familiar sound when I moved away. The windows are still shaded by the same linen curtains that my mother dyed, using tea.

This is all part of my childhood, and just one look around is enough to understand that Jeff never really got over his life with Monica and me. The only thing he has done over the years is switch out the cradle that was in the corner of the room for a rocking chair I used when I was a kid.

The view from the window is fantastic, even at night. Everything seems green and peaceful, maybe too peaceful. How weird––the nearby forest doesn’t seem menacing as it did when I was a child. The lush greenery never fails to take my breath away.

I go back to my room, and with great surprise I see a huge red bow attached to a new stereo. I tear it off. The black line trails along the floor to the wall socket. The card reads, “In case you can’t get to the stereo in the kitchen.”

It’s from Vuk. I shake my head, incredulous. I pull out his CD and place it in the player. I press play and wait silently. The music rises,––the first song is the one he wrote for me, the one he played this evening.

The gifts I received from my friends at The Pats are lying where Jeff left them, with a wooden slingshot on top. I guess it’s a present from Tyler and he didn’t get around to giving it to me in person. I’m surprised. He didn’t mention anything. But from what little I can remember about him, he was always a little reserved.

The card attached to the slingshot says that it’s from my old camping pal, Myco, and that it’s not meant to be a threat.

I smile. It’s the same slingshot he used to chase me through the mud when we’d go camping in the nearby woods during those carefree summers of my childhood. Jeff and Scott loved playing boy scouts, camping by the river, and catching fish for dinner with their fishing poles.

I burst into laughter and look through the other gifts, most of them New England Patriots stuff like pens, caps, cups, key rings, toys, and rubber hands. At the bottom of the pile is the best gift––a blanket depicting an icy Siberian landscape. It’s from Scott and Tyler. The card reads, “So that you can sleep tight and always be protected from ‘icy eyes’. This wards off nightmares and evil spirits.”

I burst out laughing so loud that Jeff begins laughing too, and he wishes me a goodnight from the other room. I immediately replace the blanket my mother gave me on with the new one and lay it out on my bed.

The song plays sublimely in the background. I sigh happily, lost in the memory of Vuk performing it live on stage. I really hoped I’d see Jason tonight, and it’s the only thought that keeps me centered before I head off to bed.

The song ends, leaving me breathless. I listen for a few minutes of the second track and then I turn off the stereo, climb under the bedcovers, and close my eyes, waiting for the pain to return.

And, as usual, my sleep is restless, haunted by nightmares. Or rather by the same nightmare that has been tormenting me these past few months. However hard I try, I can’t find Jason. And the few times I manage to catch a glimpse of him, he disappears into the shadows before I can reach him.

From the depths of my slumber, I hear a muffled sound, which gets my attention. My eyes search the darkness in my room. I see a flashing light coming from inside my purse. The glare makes me see stars, and I rummage around in my purse to find my phone. I try to focus my blinking eyes at the display and see a name––Jason. I stifle a gasp. It’s just the glimpse of hope I needed.

The light flashes like a firefly, and I’m about to answer when a gust of wind distracts me. The phone stops ringing.

The window is wide open and the lace of the white curtain is tangled in the thin branches of the tree that holds on to the lace-like fingers and scratches the wooden windowsill.

On the windowsill lies the most precious gift, a token of love that only he could have left––a blue flower, the same color as his sapphire eyes. A forget-me-not. It’s an anniversary gift from Jason.

I pull out a wrinkled piece of paper from under the flower. It is dirty and damp, crumpled from the thousands of times that it has been opened and closed. I flatten it out and examine it under the bedside lamp just to be sure.

The neat handwriting is very familiar. I recognize if from my first years at university, when I would see it covering the paper on the desk next to mine. The card wishes me a good night, with no more nightmares. He must have seen me writhing in my bed. Nothing could be as moving as seeing his handwriting after not having seen him for so long.

I turn the card over and see that the note is written on the back of a photo of the two of us, taken in front of the university. We are smiling, leaning on the Corvette in an embrace. The same Corvette that has made its way back to Jeff.

As usual, I close my eyes, terrified by the thought of what lies ahead of me. Nothing. Just the endless labyrinth of the school I have been dreaming about for months. Nothing and nobody. I am surrounded by a sinister silence, so deep it deafens me.

In the half-light, I anxiously wander through the building, my chase becoming increasingly frantic, until I stop suddenly, disillusioned and crushed, realizing that there has never been anything to find. Nothing. And there never would be anything there.

The entire night is plagued by nightmares. They’re terrifying every time, and they end only when I wake up screaming. Jeff comes into my room to see what’s happening, scared that someone is trying to kill me.

By dawn, he stops coming to my room. He must be used to it, or so exhausted from the sleepless night. Maybe he has simply stuck a pillow over his ears.

I try to forget about things, to get outside myself, but I can’t.

Whatever happened last night, the party, Jeff, Vuk, Tyler or Donn, the music or the phone call from Monica––it has woken me up. The fog seems to be lifting from my tired eyes.

At breakfast, Jeff keeps a close eye on me as I eat and acts as if nothing happened. It will take weeks before he will get over the fear of seeing me turn into a zombie again and, in the meantime, I will have to act as if nothing has happened.

“Did you have nightmares again last night?”

“Did Scott tell you about them?” I stare down at my belly. Jeff sits down next to me.

“That’s not the point,” he says, looking at me sidelong, without focusing on my face.

“I’m trying to get them to stop.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem to be working!” he exclaims impatiently.

“Can I just ask…what is it that you dream?”

“There are no monsters jumping out at me, or rapists, freaks or ghosts screaming. It’s nothing. Nothing.”

“Are they chronic nightmares, hallucinations, or what?”

“Nothing like that,” I assure him.

“I’ll have to send you to a shrink or worse, to your mother, if you don’t get it together!”

“You want me to see a shrink?” My tone of voice is cutting when I realize where this is leading.

“Maybe … you should speak to a specialist or at least to your mother.”

“I’m fine.”

He looks at me then lowers his gaze.

“Has it gotten any better since Jason left or since the accident? We both know it hasn’t!” He waits for a reaction that doesn’t come.

“Well, Ella May? How did you enjoy the party?” He’s obviously trying to change the subject. I understand that he is forcing his presence on me, whether I like it or not.

“Scott went a bit over the top. Lanterns, decorations, the cake, flowers. The works.”

“Yep, he sure does like an anniversary.” Jeff smiles. He pushes his chair back, places his plate in the sink, and then leans against the door.

“What presents did you get?”

“Patriots memorabilia, a CD, a stereo, a blanket, and a slingshot from Tyler.”

“Not bad,” he laughs. “You can tell that you guys haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“And a few other things.”

“Great.”

There is silence for a few moments.

“Right. I’d better get going,” I get up and quickly wash the two plates in the sink. I’ve always been good at avoiding uncomfortable conversations.

“Do you need a ride someplace?”

“No thanks,” Jeff replies. “Scott’s coming to pick me up, we’re going to the golf course.” His nerves are no longer on edge. That’s the reply I was expecting; it took years to anticipate his reactions.

Now that he’s come home, he probably feels less guilty about leaving me to run the bar with Scott in Medford over the past few months.

“See you tonight, then.” Jeff waves.

“Ok, see you later!” I call out with a forced smile.

I hear the front door close and breathe a sigh of relief. Jeff knows that all I really want is to be left alone. But he’s come back, and he won’t let up without a fight. Just like everyone else who works at the bar, Jeff knows everything, or almost. He knows why I’m here, as pale as a ghost, and at some kind of crossroads between being a zombie and a human. Jason left, and I had an accident with Vuk. Only Jamie knows the details about the accident, but not everything. And Scott mentioned the fight. I don’t want them to think badly of Vuk. He was punished enough by my not speaking to him for a while and, to be fair, it was all caused by my drama tendencies. And I have never even been to a play.