Hurt: A Novel (Solitary Tales Series) (3 page)

5. Concrete

Iris is right. My face looks like a piece of fruit that’s started to go bad. It’s black and blue and swollen and soft. I look at it in the mirror of the small bathroom at the back of the room.

Turns out, this is another inn that Iris is staying in. She tells me it’s in the middle of Solitary, but I refuse to believe her because I’ve been in the middle of Solitary and have never seen this place. There’s the bed-and-breakfast that Lily was staying in, but Iris says this is different. This is just behind the sheriff’s office and Brennan’s Grill and Tavern, but I say it can’t be.

She uses the words
haven
and
refuge
a lot when she talks about this little room and this inn. It’s only for those who need a safe place to come and heal.

There are so many things I want to ask her, but she tells me I need to leave. She says I can come back, but I can only bring myself, and I have to be careful who sees me come this way.

We open the door to the garden outside, and I’m surprised to find that the temperature feels like a warm spring day. The birds are still chirping away. I see some squirrels running around playing. A cocker spaniel is lounging by a weathered bench under a tree. The garden surrounds us like a circling wall.

“It doesn’t feel like January,” I say.

She nods, smiles, then leads me over stone steps in the ground until she seems to walk right through a wall of shrubs higher than me. It’s only when I get closer that I see it’s somewhat of an optical illusion. The path takes a sharp left turn, then veers right through the shrubs until reaching a gate that comes up to my chest. Iris opens it and leads me out to the street.

Suddenly I feel the cold. The sun that was streaking through has disappeared, and I see thick gray clouds above us. I look back and see the same wall of shrubs behind us.

The gate’s nowhere to be seen.

“How did we just—”

Iris turns around, then puts a hand into the shrubs. She pulls open the gate.

“Just find the old church and make a left and head straight to here,” she says.

I’m about to ask what old church, but then I see it. A building that was once white and once opened its doors to guests. Now the windows and doors are bolted up, the paint is faded, and the landscaping looks like it’s been ignored for a decade. I’ve seen it before because I’ve noticed the old battered cross at the top of the steeple.

“What am I supposed to do now?” I ask.

“What I told you to do.”

“Pray?”

She nods. She’s still standing next to the opened gate. “Your bruises and cuts are already starting to heal. They will probably be gone by the time you get back home.”

“Is my mother still alive?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “But Chris, listen. ‘The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?’”

I want to ask why she’s suddenly spouting off Bible verses to me. I mean—yeah, great, fine. I’ll try to see if they help, but right now I need some concrete answers.

Maybe those are the concrete answers you need, Chris.

I see her slip behind the gate and then watch it turn back into an unmovable wall of shrubs.

I look at the church, then stare at the street heading downhill toward downtown Solitary.

Whom shall I fear? Well, the list is long—where should I start?

I make sure the motorcycle key is in my pocket, then start walking downhill to do battle with those I shouldn’t be afraid of.

6. Figuring It Out

I can hear the music blasting from the cabin even before I head up the steps to the front door.

Maybe I should be afraid, but this doesn’t scare me. For some reason I think it might be Newt, or someone else I haven’t seen for a while. Maybe Poe. Or maybe—well, maybe ghosts like to hear some tunes as well. So do mannequins.

The music is seriously loud by the time I reach the top of the stairs and look inside my bedroom. Sitting slumped on my bed is Uncle Robert, an orange album resting on his chest. He doesn’t look surprised or even mildly interested in talking as I stand before the door.

The singer is talking about a sweet and tender hooligan. Robert eventually nods and then waves as if he wants to finish this song, which we do. He hands me the album, and I see that it’s
Louder Than Bombs
by The Smiths. It makes me think of the first day I attended Harrington High and the trio of girls that came up to me because of my T-shirt.

That seems like ten years ago.

Robert turns down the volume but doesn’t shut the music off. For a moment I think he’s going to remark about how bad my face looks, but he doesn’t say a word about it.

“This makes me think of my high school days,” Robert says, looking at the record cover. “These guys spoke the things I felt. It was like they somehow were singing for me.”

I don’t say anything.

Guess Iris was right about my face and the magical mystery potion.

“So have you enjoyed listening to my records? And wearing my clothes?”

“Why have you been watching us? Why have you been hiding?”

He rolls his eyes and sits up.

Morrissey says “That’s the story of my life” as another song fades away. Uncle Robert just nods and ignores my question.

“I just talked to Staunch downtown,” I tell him.

And, oh yeah, his phone has bits of my cheek lodged into its keys.

“What did he say about Tara?”

“He said he’d kill her.”

Robert rubs his dark stubble. “Well, that’s good.”

“That’s
good
?”

“Yeah. It means she’s not dead.”

“Spoken with such emotion.”

My uncle curses. “Don’t give me that. I didn’t have to drive back down here, you know. I’ve saved your life twice now. I’m not cut out to be anybody’s guardian angel, especially yours.”

“I didn’t ask you to be.”

He laughs at me. “What a sad look.” Again with a curse. “You’re just like your mother.”

Robert stands and turns off the stereo. He glances around the room. “There was a time I thought I’d never see any of this again.”

“Why?”

He pats me on the shoulder as he passes. “Come on—let’s go downstairs. You hungry for some lunch?”

“No.”

But actually I am pretty hungry.

“Well, I’m thirsty, and if we’re going to talk, I’m going to need a drink.”

Robert has that unhealthy look that Mom was starting to have when she drank too much—pale and thin and messy. He holds a can of beer in his hand, and I wonder where he got it from.

“You sure you’re not hungry?” he asks as he sits on the couch across from me.

“Are you staying here now?”

He shrugs. His eyes look at me, but they don’t really connect. They seem distant and busy.

“I don’t know what’s happening. I tried, Chris. I really tried.”

“Tried what?”

“To keep you guys okay. To look out for you.” He sips his beer, and then somehow the can seems to be empty. “I’ve been looking out for people ever since I came to this place.”

Those same eyes are now glassy, and I can’t tell if it’s from sadness or from the booze.

“You want to know something? I was the one who put that gun in your locker.”

For a second I forget that it ever happened. But then I remember being called into the principal’s office and getting kicked out of school.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Because—the very thing you needed was to draw attention to yourself. To not fit in. I knew they’d find out it wasn’t yours. It was like I was sending them a message.”

“What? That I was going to shoot someone?”

Robert laughs. “No. That I’m just as serious as they are. Plus—I needed you and your mom to bond.”

“So you got me kicked out, huh?”

“It worked, right?”

I recall Mom taking my side and threatening the principal and teachers.

“Yeah, I guess so. In a weird way.”

“The thing they wanted from the very start was for you to fit in. To make friends and have a good ole time and feel nice and comfortable and then begin to learn the truth. But …”

“But what?” I ask.

“Well, you chose to fall for pretty much the worst person you could have fallen for.”

I get a small fire going in the fireplace and then sit on the hearth. Uncle Robert grabs another beer from the fridge.

“Do you know everything that’s happening?” I ask.

“I thought that moving here would give me the answers I needed.” He leans back on the couch and sighs. “Boy, was I wrong.”

“Why did you move back here?”

“Because I wanted to know what happened to my parents. Why my mom died when I was just a kid. I wanted to find out what happened to her, because I’ve never bought the whole car crash thing. Just like I never believed Dad was shot by some random thug when I was in college.”

“Did it have something to do with this place?”

“Ya think?” He takes a long draw of his beer, then wipes his mouth and curses. “It all comes back to this place. And back to our family. Really majorly sucks, doesn’t it?”

“But why did you disappear?”

“If you could vanish now, would you? Knowing that nobody would get hurt? Knowing that everybody would be okay? Would you?”

I think about it and nod.

“But I—it’s been confusing. I came back here and didn’t have anybody else. I wanted answers, and I wanted to fix things. But instead I got shackled down. In the end, it all went away.”

I’m not following him. “Are you talking about Mrs. Marsh?”

Robert groans and crinkles up the beer can, then tosses it into the fire. “Please. Don’t call her that. I mean, like
ever
again.”

“Okay, then—Heidi.”

“I tried to rescue her. I just didn’t know how hard it would be. I was doing something good, but it killed me inside because I also knew I was doing something wrong. But I loved her.”

“She’s still around.”

“I know,” Robert says. “But she made it clear. She chose to stay. We were going to leave, but she just couldn’t. That monster has some kind of hold on her.”

“Staunch?”

“Marsh. The little leper-healer. That’s what I call him. The whack-job with the glasses. That guy—I’m telling you, you stay away from him.”

“Did they tell you about everything? About our—your grandfather?”

“They wanted me to become like them, and I said no way. But then—they really thought they’d gotten rid of me. But I wasn’t going to leave Heidi. I can’t.” He pauses, looking into the fire and watching the crackling wood. “Then you guys show up and ruin everything.”

“How?”

“They destroyed my family.
Our
family. This sickness—this evil. And they wanted to do the same with you two. All because what? Because your mom had to get some answers. Just like her big brother.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

He stands and then leans over the couch. “Do you really want to know? I spend every hour of every day wondering if I’ve lost my mind. I drink to keep the nightmares away. You know that, right? That’s why your mother came down here and started drinking like a fish. She couldn’t help herself. And you …” He examines me for a moment. “You don’t drink, huh?”

“Not really,” I say.

“I want to say don’t start, but—but look. I have no suggestions for you.”

“You have to help me.”

“How can I help someone else when I can’t even help myself?” Uncle Robert curses, then goes to the fridge again. “The things I’ve seen—you don’t want to see them.”

I sit there, watching this man I barely know, wondering what I’m supposed to say or do to help him.

I’m seventeen and unsure how to help myself.

Another voice tells me to shut up, that I’m different.

You’re stronger, Chris. You’ve always been strong.

“What’s going to happen?” I ask Robert when he sits down again.

“I don’t know. But it’s something big. And I don’t want to be around here to find out.”

“I have to do what they tell me.”

He only nods.

This guy is the nodding man. And it’s really making me angry.

“Aren’t you supposed to, like, help out a little?” I ask.

“Don’t get annoyed at me. Listen, I was here sorting all of this out by myself. Okay?”

“So I’m supposed to just do what I’m told by those guys?”

“For now.”

“Until what?” I ask. “Until you finish enough beer not to care anymore?”

Uncle Robert yells at me and tells me what I can do with my frustration, then he sighs and apologizes.

“Listen, Chris. I thought if they didn’t know I was around … I didn’t realize that they’d given up on me. I’m a lost cause to them. But you—you’re their last hope. You’re like their Luke Skywalker.”

“Why?”

“Because—I think they know how strong you are.”

I shake my head.

“It’s true, Chris. Look at all this you’ve been dealing with. By yourself. Just a kid. I would’ve freaked out if this all happened to me at sixteen. But you managed. And you’re still managing. And that’s why—-you keep it up. Okay? Until we know Tara is okay.”

“And then?”

“We’ll figure it out then,” he says.

“And what happens if she’s not?”

“We’ll figure it out then.”

7. Like a Disney Movie

I don’t need to ask if Uncle Robert is going to spend the night. He’s passed out on the couch where he was watching television all day and I was watching him drink beer. He’s as lifeless as that mannequin still in the laundry room with nowhere to go. I leave one light on as well as the fire fully stoked to make it through the night. If it somehow spills over to the rest of the cabin, well, I might get out, but Robert is a goner.

In the bathroom I examine my face, which doesn’t look bruised or touched in any way. I wonder if Iris was using the magical mystery water from Marsh Falls. This makes me think of a dozen other questions, all of which give me a headache and force me to avoid answering any of them.

My room is extra cold tonight. Normally Mom would make sure I had an extra blanket on nights like this. Even after she’d been drinking so much. Now I’m forced to look for another blanket, and then I just give up and go to bed.

I wonder what sort of dreams my uncle has. Or maybe he doesn’t dream anymore. Maybe the booze completely coats over the dreams and drowns them out.

Maybe he used to dream of Heidi Marsh.

I want to ask him more about her. I know they were living here for a while. What were their plans? Why didn’t they just run away together?

Then I think of Jocelyn and know that life isn’t always so simple.

The wind blows outside. It’s January.

I wish I could close my eyes and wake up in July. To know I’ve made it past The Big Whatever that is going to happen. To know that I’ve graduated Harrington and I’ll finally be able to leave this place. Hopefully with Mom. And maybe even Uncle Robert.

I think of school. Then of Kelsey.

Sweet, adorable, likable Kelsey.

The girl that I definitely should not be with.

What will these next few months look like?

My eyes close then open then close again.

I awake hearing something.

Birds. Lots of them.

And something else.

I must have slept in, since the sun is already coming up. I glance out my window and just see the drab emptiness of the surrounding woods. Sometimes it seems smothering, this wilderness that never seems to want to go away.

The sounds keep coming from downstairs, not from in our cabin, but outside.

The deck.

It sounds like people shuffling. Or like animals. I get up and sprint down the steps.

The couch is empty.

I check Mom’s bedroom, but the bed is untouched.

“Uncle Robert?”

No response.

I hear tapping on the window. More birds.

I go to the window and look out.

No way.

The bird that was pecking at the window flies off, but on the railing of the deck are maybe fifty or a hundred others. All different kinds. Just sitting there, some moving and making noises, some just sitting there.

Like that Alfred Hitchcock movie
The Birds
.

But that’s not all.

I see more animals shuffling on the deck itself. There’s a groundhog—no, there are several—and a dog. Several cats. Other animals that I have to study to see what they are. A woodchuck maybe? I see a possum. A skunk.

These animals are having a party on our deck.

“Uncle Robert?” I shout out.

Nothing.

I look out the bedroom window down on the driveway to see if his car is there. Then I remember I never saw one yesterday.

Like a ghost, he’s disappeared.

I go back and look out to the deck again. That’s when I see it. Right dead in the center of the action, as if guiding them all in this craziness.

Iris’s bluebird.

It’s like she told them where to come.

But why? What’s with the animals?

I bang on the window, and the bluebird flies off the railing and heads toward me, then swoops up and away.

Suddenly all the birds follow.

They’re gone.

I hear the stampede of animals shuffling away down the steps and around the deck to the other side of the house like they might in a Disney movie.

I wait for a second, then open the door. There’s not an animal in sight.

The wind is freezing and makes me quickly go back inside. I check my cell phone to see if there are any messages, then look around the back of the house for my uncle. Maybe he had more to drink last night and fell off the deck, like I always used to worry about Mom doing. But he’s nowhere to be found.

Uncle Robert is gone.