Chasing William (17 page)

“Yeah, sorry.”

Luke doesn’t understand. No one who hasn’t
been through it can. Even if you have, it’s difficult to relate to
people, since everyone experiences things so differently. The only
thing the same is that it hurts. It might hurt in different ways
and for different reasons, but it still hurts. The one thing you
can’t avoid is the pain.

“Why?” My question is sharp and demanding.
The less Luke seems to understand the more frustrated I get.

“Well,” Luke says, apparently not too
offended by my tone, “I know the guy who leads group for that age.
He won’t be able to tell you much, but he’d probably be able to
tell you what your guy was like out here. Stuff like that if you’d
be interested.”

“Um, yeah.” I feel bad about getting
frustrated, so I revert back to talking quietly and staring at my
feet. Maybe Luke does understand a little better than I’d given him
credit for. “But let’s keep walking.” I wasn’t ready to go in
yet.

“Yeah. It takes a lot to go into “That
Place’.” Luke smiles.

I smile back. It’s been awhile since I
smiled at another person. I forgot how good it felt. Being able to
talk to another person and have them answer, being able to smile
and have a person smile back. They were all things I’d taken for
granted.

“Follow me. There’s a path that leads around
the lake. It’s cold as anything in the winter, but that just means
it’s empty.”

“Okay.”

“You sure you can handle the cold? You don’t
look like you’re from around here.”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle it if you
can.” Now it’s my turn to smile slyly and Luke laughs. “Alright.
Let’s go.”

“So…” We’ve been walking in silence for
several minutes and I’ve finally gotten up the courage to ask the
question that’s been buzzing around in my mind. “How come you
didn’t end up in a place like “That Place”? I mean, how did you
escape the inevitable father-son cycle?” I’m worried Luke will be
insulted, or think I’m strange for asking such a personal question,
but I need to know. If he and William are as much alike as they
seem, why is one of them dead and the other alive? Why did William
end up in “That Place” and Luke just visit?

“That a serious question?” Luke looks like
he wants to sit down somewhere, but it’s too cold to stop moving.
We’ve made it to the lake and now we’re following the path around
it. There is probably a sidewalk somewhere, but it’s buried and
compacted under snow and ice now. The lake is sparkling and frozen
over, with “no skating” signs planted into the ground every few
feet. I imagine “no swimming” signs take their place in the summer.
The winter scene is beautiful, the lake and snow and trees
outlining everything. It is a lot colder than I expected. I haven’t
spent much time outside since I made it to Minnesota. Going from a
heated car to a heated house isn’t bad. Even my vigils outside
“That Place” didn’t seem so cold. That could have been because I
was lost in thought or because I was near a busy road. Either way,
it was nothing compared to this cold. Joking aside, Luke is right.
I’m not prepared because I am an outsider. I don’t even own the
kinds of winter clothes necessary to survive here, let alone think
they would be necessary.

“Yeah, it’s a serious question.” I start
speed-walking to stay warm and Luke matches my pace without saying
anything, but I can feel him laughing at me on the inside. I don’t
mind. I’m laughing at myself a little too.

“I think a lot of it comes down to luck. I
found the right people to hang out with before the wrong ones. I
saw what drinking was doing to my dad and my family. I saw how much
he hurt us, and I saw how he was so oblivious to everything else he
couldn’t care. The longer it went on the fewer good days there
were, and now he’s dying in “That Place” and I’m not sure he even
cares.” This time when Luke says “That Place” he’s not making fun
of me. He says it with such venom and anger I can’t tell if he
hates “That Place” or his father more. “I just couldn’t let that
happen to me. It was tempting. You hear these stories about how
good the drugs make you feel. It’d been so long since I’d been
happy. I wanted that kind of relief. I wanted to forget about my
life for a few minutes. But saying no (‘no’)made me feel proud.
Pride was an almost better feeling than happiness. So I kept saying
no.”

“But were you ever happy?”

Luke laughs again.

“Are you happy?”

It’s a question that doesn’t need an answer.
What he said scares me. I wondered a lot about whether William was
really happy with me. We were similar in so many ways but opposite
in so many others. He was always around people, even if they
weren’t always the right kind of people. I preferred to be alone,
or just with him. He wanted to go to parties but I wanted to stay
home. Maybe if I had gone with him I could have kept him from doing
the things we all eventually came to regret. Maybe if I’d been more
outgoing, if I’d spent more time with him, he wouldn’t have felt so
alone. If he wasn’t alone maybe he wouldn’t have relapsed. But
maybe he was happy. Maybe I made him happy enough that he didn’t
need the drugs and he died some way that couldn’t be prevented.
Maybe I do need to know. I start crying silently, except it’s not
really crying. The tears are just falling from my eyes and I can’t
stop them.

“Oh, shit.” Luke says it like he broke me.
He must not be used to spending time around girls. At least not
emotional ones. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sure William was
a good guy too. It’s hard to say no. If I’d gotten the wrong
friends it probably would have been a lot harder.”

“It’s not that. He was clean, had been for
months down here. He wanted to have a good life. But just a few
weeks at home,” I look down at my feet again, “with me…” I whisper
the words as softly as I can. I almost don’t want Luke to hear, but
I know even if he can’t hear the words, he knows what I mean. “Just
a few weeks with me and he dies. I wasn’t enough for him.” I bow my
head as low as my neck will allow it to go. “I hate thinking it
might have been me, that I might not have been enough.”

It’s the first time I’ve actually
acknowledged that fear to another person. I wouldn’t say it to my
parents because I know how they’d respond. I wouldn’t say it to my
counselor because I wanted everyone to think I have it together. I
wouldn’t say it to my friends because I don’t really have any I can
trust. Saying it to Luke seems okay. He seems like the one person
who might understand, and at least he can talk back (and of course,
there is the added bonus of knowing if he turns out to be an ass
I’ll never have to see him again).

Luke puts his arm around me and gives me an
awkward hug. It’s not the most comforting hug I’ve ever gotten, and
I think it actually makes both of us a little uncomfortable, but at
least it’s a response. William had always been someone I could talk
to, but trying to confide in someone who has died doesn’t help when
you need a response. William couldn’t be my shoulder anymore. It
breaks my heart a little to finally realize that.

“Look, Christine.” He pauses on my name like
he isn’t quite sure he remembered it. I nod slightly and he goes
on. “That’s something all of us ask ourselves. All of us people
who’ve found ourselves caring about an addict. I think my mom still
asks herself that sometimes. I know there was a time when I was
little where I asked myself that every night before I went to
sleep.” Luke pauses and looks out over the lake, not really focused
on anything. He also stops walking, but I try to ignore the cold.
It doesn’t seem like the right time to interrupt. “It’s never your
fault, though. That’s what they tell you in group, or as I like to
call it: living with yourself while you’re living with an addict.”
He doesn’t sound like he’s talking to me anymore, but he does start
walking again and I’m just grateful to be moving. “It’s never up to
you to change how someone else lives. You can help them, you can
support them, but in the end they’re the ones who decide what does
or doesn’t go in their bodies. Sometimes addicts can be selfish.
They use other people as an excuse for why they do what they do.
But in the end the only person who can stop what they do is them.
You have to understand that or you start to get sucked down. The
whole thing is so hard, so difficult, and it’s so easy to think no
one will escape. You can’t help someone, so you feel guilty. You
want to escape, nothing gets better, you find a way out. Then
someone else can’t help you. See? Don’t get pulled in.” He says it
bitterly.

We’ve both already been sucked in. There’s
no way around it. We know we’ve already been sucked in. There’s no
hope we can be saved from that now. All we can hope is that we
don’t get pulled down any further.

“I’m cold, Luke.” I shrug, he laughs, and
things start to feel a little bit better.

We start to walk back towards “That Place”
and I’m not sure if it was talking to Luke or finally realizing how
cold it was outside, but I think I might be ready to go in. The sun
is about ready to set, so it has to be late, well, late-ish around
six. Whoever Luke thought I could talk to probably won’t be there.
I’ll feel like an idiot if I finally go in just to get sent back
out. I’m not sure if I’d even go back if that happened. I don’t
want to take the risk of missing this chance. I feel like I’m
getting close to all those answers I need(comma) and with just one
day left before I go home(comma) I don’t want them to slip through
my fingers.

“Hey, um, it’s getting late.” Luke looks at
“That Place”, then at me, then at his feet. “Maybe we could meet
back here tomorrow and I’ll introduce you to Zac?”

“Yeah, sure.” I try not to look too
relieved. I’m glad Luke will be here tomorrow. I know this whole
trip is supposed to be about me finding my voice and being
independent, but sometimes it really helps to have someone to walk
in with.

“Great.” Luke seems relieved, too. I’m
starting to think he might not want to see his dad. It is almost
Christmas. That has to be a hard time to be with the person who
tore your family apart. Not that I know what’s really going on with
Luke’s dad. I can only assume. “Umm, would you want to come with me
to get some food? I know a good Chinese place. My mom will be
eating dinner with him -- uh, Dad -- so I’d be alone. It’d be nice
to have company for once. I think the people who work there are
starting to think I’m some kind of Unabomber freak.”

“Are you?” I try to keep a straight
face.

“What?”

“Are you a Unabomber freak? We did just
meet.”

“Not yet.” Luke rolls his eyes. “but
sometimes I wonder. There are some people out there who deserve to
be blown up.”

“Yeah, like Unabombers . Although I think
they’re just called terrorists now.”

“You know what? I rescind the offer. I don’t
want you to come to dinner. Call me a terrorist…” he mutters under
his breath, but I follow him to his car anyway and he doesn’t try
to stop me.

“So, how are the fortunes at your Chinese
restaurant?”

“The cookies? Just like everywhere else. I
mean, you can’t ever have a bad fortune cookie. Or a good one.
They’re just kinda there.”

“No.” I shake my head and smile. “How are
the
fortunes.
The cookies are only there as carriers. You
don’t even have to eat them.” I stick my tongue out without
realizing it. I always do that when I talk about food I don’t like.
even though I’ve been told it’s impolite on several occasions.
William always said it was my inner four-year-old coming out. I
figured it wasn’t a problem as long as it didn’t happen when food
was actually handed to me.

“Okay, please, explain to me the mysticism
of the fortune cookie.”

He isn’t taking it seriously, but he seems
to be having fun. He looks more alive now that we’re driving away
from “That Place.” I feel a little more alive too, but that could
have been the “mysticism of the fortune cookie”. No one takes it
seriously the first few times, but William got it. We discovered it
together.

“Well, it’s a little hard to explain, at
least, it’s hard to explain without sounding crazy. So you have to
promise you’ll at least try to take it seriously.”

“I can’t promise that.” Luke never took his
eyes off the road, but he was smirking.

“Then I won’t tell you.” I turn and look out
the window, pretending to pout.

“Aw, come on. Just because I’m not sure I
can take it seriously doesn’t mean I’m not interested.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What if I pay for dinner?”

“Warmer.”

“Fine. I’ll at least pretend to take it
seriously.”

“Deal.” I stop pretending to pout and turn
back around.

“Aren’t you gonna tell me?”

“Okay, so, you know how sometimes you get
fortune cookies that are totally random and make no sense? Like the
ones that say ‘you’re happy now purple’ or ‘your favorite color
could be orange’?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“But sometimes, you go to a place with the
perfect fortunes that make you go ‘I wish that would happen’?”

“Well, yeah, just like when my magic
eight-ball says ‘yes’ to ‘will I wake up a millionaire?’. So?”

“Well, this is where it sounds crazy.
Sometimes the cookie really does know. Not all the time; when you
don’t need the fortune cookie magic, it’s not there. But when you
really, really need help, when you desperately need a little hope…
That’s when the magic of the fortune cookie hits you. It tells you
what you need to keep going and then the fortune comes true. But
only if you believe in it. If you take it for granted, it won’t
help you.” Unless you’re me, and then the magic will abandon you in
your time of need.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever
heard,” Luke laughs, and hits the steering wheel as he turns into a
strip mall and finds a place to park.