Chasing William (19 page)

I silently hope whoever this guy is won’t be
here today. Then at least I can say I tried and leave quickly. I
know that sounds terrible, considering how much I’ve been bitching
about a sign, but asking for something and actually trying to get
it aren’t really the same thing. What if I get something I don’t
like?

“Hey, Zac!” Luke calls to someone who just
happens to have come out of the door closest to us. It figures we’d
practically run into the guy.

“Hey, Lu. You here to see your dad?”

“Not that he wants to see me.”

“He wants to see you.”

“Yeah? Maybe you should tell him that.” Luke
takes a deep breath and calms himself down. It sounds like he wants
to be here about as much as I do. “But I actually want you to meet
someone. Christine, this is Zac. She’s William, um, I don’t know
his last name’s girlfriend. I was thinking you might have some time
to talk with her?”

“Well, sure, but I don’t think I have anyone
–“

“He died.” I finally find my voice and
interject.

It’s easier than you think to tell people
someone’s dead. You say it enough (and) it becomes routine. The
words don’t mean anything after awhile.

“William Davis?”

I nod.

“Yeah, I remember him mentioning a Crissy.
Guess that’s you. I have some free time if you’d like to come to my
office. I’m not sure what I’ll be able to do for you, but I’ll do
what I can.”

I nod again.

“Well, I guess that means I’ll have to visit
Dad.” Luke gives a bitter smile. “If you want, I’ll meet you back
where we came in before you leave.”

I nod again. I’m not sure where my voice
went but I hope it comes back soon. Zac seems nice. He’s a lot
younger than I expected. I follow him to his office, which turns
out to be behind the door we saw him coming out of.

His office is nothing like the office of the
grief counselor I went to see. It’s not that ugly gray color, for a
start. It’s actually painted some kind of teal color. I’m not
really sure what to call it, but it’s a lot friendlier. I still
feel like I’m in “That Place” , but I’m not so scared about it. He
has a bookshelf wedged in one corner that’s overflowing with books.
Not all of them are psychology books either. I can see some plain
old fiction, some highschool yearbooks (I’m assuming from his
highschool years), and a bunch of magazines shoved in wherever
they’ll fit. It’s my kind of bookshelf. Every inch of space is
taken up by books, no decorative plants or books set out
prominently to impress whoever comes in. His walls are covered with
pictures too. Not ink blots, but actual pictures. Pictures of him
and other people, people I assume he’s helped. I don’t see any
pictures of William. I’m not sure what kind of sign that might be.
At least his office seems like a safe place to be. I don’t feel
like running away anymore.

“If you’re busy, you can get back to what
you were doing. It’s not important.”

Zac laughs.“If it wasn’t important I don’t
think you’d be here.”

I shrug.

“I don’t know why I’m here.” My voice starts
to crack and I’m not even sure why I’m almost crying. I hate not
being in control of things. I take a few deep breaths and calm down
a little. Zac’s nice enough to pretend not to notice.

“Well, let me give you a hint.” Zac sits in
the chair next to me and I feel like I’m back in grief counseling.
I hated grief counseling. I just can’t believe thatsomeone who gets
paid to listen to people’s problems all day can genuinely care
about any of them.

“You’re here because William’s dead.”

“Yeah, no shit.” I’m a lot angrier than I
thought I’d be. Probably all the grief-counseling flashbacks.
“Sorry.” I only say it because I know it’s the polite thing to
say.

“And what do you think I can do about
that?”

“Nothing. He’s dead. I just…” I take a deep
breath. Might as well just talk. At least I’ll never have to see
this guy again. That makes it easier. “He spent so much time here.
I didn’t get to see him as much as I wanted to. I didn’t get a
normal relationship and I feel like I don’t have anything to hold
on to. I thought if I came here I might be able to figure out who
he was when I wasn’t around, that maybe I’d have something more,
um, more tangible, to hold on to.”

“Why do you want to hold on to the person he
was when he wasn’t with you?”

“Well…” I realize I’ve been talking to my
shoes this whole time, but when I look at Zac my voice goes away. I
start talking to my shoes again. “I think, maybe, I didn’t really
know him. The guy I know, he wouldn’t have needed that one last
high. He wouldn’t have done it. He wouldn’t have left me again. He
didn’t want to die.” I’m surprised this is the one time I’m not
crying.

“And?”

“Huh?” I look up from my shoes. I don’t know
what I’m supposed to say.

“What’s wrong with remembering him as the
guy you knew?”

“Because, well…” Another deep breath. Here
we go. Time to be honest. “Everyone -- the cop who told me he was
dead, my parents, my...” I was going to say “friends” that’s not
true anymore. “People I go to school with. They all think he’s just
one more addict that screwed up. Once an addict always an
addict.”

“So?”

“What if they’re right?” I whisper the
question to my shoe. I don’t want to say it out loud. I feel like
I’m betraying him, but the question is eating away at me and I have
to ask it. At least now it is out of my head.

“Do you know for sure how he died?”

“No. I didn’t, I don’t, I don’t want
to.”

“Why not?”

“I want to choose how I remember him.”

“Is that really it?”

I hate how he’s asking all the right
questions. He must have been doing whatever it is he does for a
long time. I wonder how old he really is; he didn’t look that old
at first, but he seems like he’s been through a lot.

“I don’t want to think I might have been
able to stop him but I didn’t. I don’t want to think I made a
mistake letting him into my life.”

“People have to make the choice for
themselves, whether they stop or not. You can’t stop for them.”

I get the impression he’s given this speech
a lot. That’s probably where Luke got it. I nod anyway.

“But William is dead.”

I’m glad he says “dead” not “gone” or
“passed”. Seventeen-year-olds don’t “pass away”. There’s nothing
gentle or peaceful about it. They die. It’s abrupt, blunt, and
unwelcome. My grief counselor said “passed”, and I hated her for
it. She also called William my “little friend.” Bitch.

Zac pauses to see if I have anything to say
and then continues,“You can’t fix the past. You didn’t give him
drugs. You supported him. You obviously cared about him or you
wouldn’t be here.”

I nod.

“Yeah.”

“How do you think William would want you to
remember him?”

“I don’t know.”

Zac laughs.

“There’s a reason he only showed you his
best side. This place, people don’t come here because they’re happy
with who they are. Did you ever think the reason you didn’t know
the person he was here was because he didn’t want you to?”

“No.” That thought had never even crossed my
mind. It makes sense. Finally. Someone makes sense.

“Okay, well, do you know how William would
want you to remember him?”

I nod. That summer, holding my hand,
smiling, talking about the future and fortune cookies. That’s my
William. I don’t want to trade him for anyone else’s version.

“Oh…” Zac gets up, smiling. “I kept this for
myself when we found out. I didn’t want them to throw it out, but I
think it’s yours. Or at least, William said it was for you.” Zac
tosses me something from his desk drawer. “I’m not sure if he
finished it or not. He was supposed to come back, so he might have
been planning on doing something else.”

It’s supposed to be a fortune cookie. It
doesn’t really look like one. It’s actually pretty lame as far as
art projects go. But every follower of the mysticism of the fortune
cookie knows it’s not really the cookie that counts. I break open
the cookie, pull out a white slip of paper, and put the paper-mache
cookie on Zac’s desk.

Thanks.”

He doesn’t ask what it says. He just smiles
and stands up.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“No. I can go now.” I smile and find my way
to the front doors. I pull out my phone while I wait for Luke.

To:
William Davis

Message:
Sorry. I finally got my
fortune.

Scrawled across the thin slip of paper in
William’s handwriting is the best fortune I’ve gotten yet:

I love you, Crissy.

“
Journeys don’t end, they go
in different directions.”

“You’re lucky you’re driving back before the
snow hits. Usually it’s always snowing.”

Luke and I are eating breakfast at a
McDonald’s off the highway before I start the drive back home. It’s
early enough in the morning that the fast-food pancakes and
dollar-menu coffee actually taste good.

“Yeah. I actually feel ready to go home,
have a nice relaxing break -- what’s left of it that I don’t have
to work through.”

“This is your last semester?”

“Yup. Heading off to college. Somewhere.
Shit, I haven’t even thought about college. I mean, I applied
places and everything, but I just haven’t had time to think about
it.”

“Oh? You been preoccupied with something?”
Luke smiles.

I laugh and play with my necklace. It’s a
new one I just picked up yesterday. A plain silver locket. Of
course, it’s the fortune inside that really matters.

“Well, let me tell you, what people like us
have to go through with our people in “That Place,” you learn more
about life than you ever will in college. It’s not the big deal
everyone makes it out to be. Eventually you’ll leave and wonder
what all the fuss was about.”

“Yeah. Kind of like high school.”

“Yeah. We’ve seen the end of the world,
watched people we love try to fight their way back. Who said what
about which clique, your major, the clubs you join or don’t…that’s
nowhere near the end of the world.”

I nod. It’s the first time Luke’s actually
looked sad. He’s not angry anymore, at least not right now.

“I decided to go to the University of
Minnesota because it meant I could be closer to my dad. I thought
it’d be good to try and fix whatever relationship we could salvage.
He doesn’t want to see me, says he doesn’t want my ‘guilt visits’.
But I keep going back. I don’t think he’ll get better though. He’s
gonna die in there or out here. At least I’m trying though,
right?”

“You can only fix yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what the fortune cookie
said.” Luke smiles and stands up. It’s time for me to go. He gives
me a hug. “Don’t be a stranger, kid. Keep in touch.”

I smile.

“You too.” It makes me sad to be leaving
someone else, but it’s a different kind of sad. I’m starting to
learn that different is good. I call my mom and tell her I’m
heading home. Just in time for Christmas. I tell her we need to
start getting serious about the whole “college “ thing. I remember
a few letters coming about acceptances and scholarships -- and
deadlines. I’ll have to decide fast. I have a feeling I’m not going
to be roommates with Amanda next year even though she’s called
several times this week. That actually comes as kind of a relief. I
think I want to do this on my own.

“
You will have good luck in
your future endeavors.”

I like Luke. Not in an “I think he’s good
enough to replace my dead boyfriend” way, but he’s easy to talk to
and I’m glad to have him in my life. He might not understand
everything I’m going through with William’s death, but he
understands enough of it that it’s not like talking to a wall. I
have someone to talk to. I guess I could call him a friend. Maybe
not a best friend, or even a really good friend, but he’s a friend.
That makes one more person I have on my side than I did when I left
for Minnesota.

The Upward Turn.

I guess I can cross that off my grief
checklist (yes, I cross things off checklists). Things really are
starting to get better. Maybe there’s something about Minnesota
that’s keeping me and the universe in check. I’d like to think
there’s so much of William left behind here that it’s making good
things happen. His spirit is influencing the universe. Not to
mention the fortune cookies.

I think I’ve given up on fortune cookies for
the time being. Most of it is because I’ll never get a fortune that
tops the one William had waiting for me, but some of it is that I
think we need some time apart to build the magic back up again.
Fortune cookies only work from a distance. I can’t keep trying to
make them give up their secrets. A phenomenon that spectacular
cannot be forced to perform on demand. At least that’s how I’m
going to choose to look at it. Besides, I actually have something I
can consider closure with William. I can’t ask for anything more
right now.

Since it looks like I’ve mastered the upward
turn that leaves only two stages of grief left for the drive back
home: “Reconstruction and working through” and “acceptance and
hope”. I’m not sure how well I’ll really be able to work through
these stages. From the sound of them I feel like they’re stages
that require planning and paper and a realistic view of the future.
Not exactly something I can work on in a moving car, although the
whole list doesn’t seem so important anymore. I have my locket and
a fortune that was worth the drive. I’m almost happy enough to say
I don’t care what happens next.

Almost.

It’ll all come crashing back the closer to
home I get. Eventually. I’ll have to deal with the calls from
Amanda. I’ll have to go back to work and talk to Mel – really talk
to her – and maybe be asked questions I don’t have the answers to
yet. I have to try and explain all this to my parents and hope they
find a way to understand. I can’t just live in my world forever.
Eventually I’ll have to go back to the world I share with everyone
else. Things won’t be easy when that happens. Things will very
quickly settle back into the everyday, and what happened in
Minnesota will just be that good feeling I wish I could get
back.