Lingering Echoes (7 page)

Slowly,
I nodded my head. “Everyone says it’s not—that it was just a bad combination of an early spring and the rain that made the river run so fast that day. Everyone tried to tell me it was just an accident. And, of course, it was—just an accident. But it could have been prevented. I was supposed to be looking out for her. I should have stopped her, or at least saved her like I could have.” I muttered the last words, looking down at my fingertips.

“You ever talk to anybody about it?” Damien asked
.

I jerked my head up. “
What, like a shrink?” I was more than a little offended at his words. My mom had hinted in the past that I go see somebody. My unwillingness to talk about the “incident” had her worried—it had
everybody
worried. I clammed up anytime they tried to pry into the details of that day. What else did they need to know? Maddie fell in and I couldn’t save her. There was nothing more to it. And I didn’t need anybody playing the sympathy card with me, or trying to get into my head, including the relentless school counselor.

Damien remained calm at the sudden flare in my eyes. “I didn’t mean a psychiatrist or anything. I just meant your family. Or friends.”

“No. I didn’t see what good it would do. Only one thing seemed to help me, at least temporarily.”

“What was that
?”

“Running.”
I thought back to my senior year and the blur that became its memory. “Back in Portland, that’s all I did. I was supposed to return to the varsity basketball team. We were expected to have a great season that year. And they still did, but without me. I just didn’t care about it anymore. It all seemed so trivial. All the practice and emotional investment over winning or losing a game—who cares, you know? None of that matters.” I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s just high school, right? One necessary, tedious step towards college.”

“That’s one way of looking at it, I sup
pose.” Damien was careful with his answer. He seemed hesitant to say everything that was on his mind. It was just as well. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it, especially if it sounded anything like what my parents and school counselors tried lecturing me about.

“
What is it about running you like so much?” he asked, after my silence.

I let out a sigh, reflecting on the sound of my sneakers pounding against
the pavement, the wave of trees rushing by as I moved along the dirt trail, the fleeting ability to shut my mind off from relentless memories...

“It’s peacef
ul,” I answered. “I could just be myself without having to worry about being analyzed by all the curious faces around me. No probing eyes or listening ears trying to figure out if I was “ok” or not. No forced conversation. And it helped me sleep.”

I met Damien’s pensive gaze.
He was judging me. And why shouldn’t he, after everything I had just told him? I felt anxiety creeping up on me, followed by bewilderment.
Why did I just tell him all of that?

Something
occurred to me.

“Why were you there today?
At the river?” It seemed more than coincidental how often his path was crossing with mine.

Damien sat up, turning towards me. He pinched his lips together before answering. “I was in the
area. I heard your friends outside calling your name.”

Brooke and Aaron had been looking for me.

“They seemed worried. I drove by the blond girl. She was pretty freaked out and said she didn’t know where you were—that you had a fight with your stepbrother and ran off. I told her I thought I knew where you were and that I would take care of you.”

Gesturing towards my cooling hot chocolate, he added, “
I’d like to think I’m keeping my word.” He stood up, putting a subtle end to our conversation.

I took my time rising
to my feet, standing inches away from him. I cranked my neck to look up at him. My physical and emotional exhaustion seemed to remove my inhibition. With caution, I asked, “Damien, why...how did you know where I was?”

I waited
for him to reveal something more—something from his own pocket of secrets. He didn’t answer. Instead, he stared back, his expression careful.

Without reserve,
I stepped into him, slipping my hands under both layers of shirts. He closed his eyes as they slid up along his sides. I could feel his body tense beneath my fingers. I felt the wide muscles of his lats, my hands ascending along his body with purpose. I reached the upper portion of his back.

He
flinched, eyes open. But he didn’t move away and I didn’t stop. I allowed the sensors of my fingers to explore the skin all along his back. While smooth at the base, the texture changed right behind the top of his ribs and up to the base of his neck. The layer of skin felt worn and damaged.

I remembered what
I’d seen when he was changing his shirt—that discolored area of skin that stood out against the smooth tan of his back.

Damien’s hands seized
my wrists. He met my imploring eyes.

No questions
, his eyes seemed to say.

H
e pushed my hands down, my fingers sliding all the way down his back. He filled my hands with his.

I leaned my cheek into
the small crevice between his pecks.

“Seems like you have some secrets of your own.”
My voice was tranquil and even, but I felt Damien stiffen against me.

He bent down, putting the side of his face against my cheek. I closed my eyes, feeling my body quiver in respons
e. His mouth rested by my ear, his lips touching my lobe when he spoke.

“Time to get you home.”

Damien left me on the doorstep of my cabin, holding a plastic bag full of my damp clothing.

You’ll be ok now
, he had said, driving off before I opened the door.

Would I?

I rubbed my heavy eyes with a deep sigh. The emotions of sharing such a personal experience from my life had taken a lot out of me. I wasn’t used to opening up to people, and especially not to strange guys who showed up at random times during my vacation. How was it that Damien could draw that much out of me?

I shook my head, perplexed.
Taking a deep breath, I twisted the doorknob and stepped inside.

“Allie! Allie, you’re ok!” Brooke leaped at me from the couch, throwing her arms around my neck. Aaron
hurried beside her, concern and relief on his face. Brooke glanced out the door at Damien’s retreating figure. She whispered into my ear, “You better believe I want details.” She gave me a meaningful look, followed by a wide, giddy show of her pearly teeth. “I have to go. Call me later!”

Dad
pushed past them, two firm hands on my shoulders.

“Allison, do you know how worried we’
ve been? Clara and I returned home, only to find out you’ve been missing for two hours. And in the pouring rain, of all things. We were about to call the police.” He noticed the scratches on my face and my oversized attire. “What happened to you?”

I looked into the living room, where Nick slouched in the corner of the couch.
I pursed my lips, not even knowing where to begin. I pushed Dad’s arms off my shoulders, hurrying towards my room. “I just needed some time alone.”

I entered the safety of my bedroom, turning to close the door. I jumped, seeing
Dad’s arm clutching the doorframe.

“We need to talk.” He stood there, immo
bilized, waiting for a response, or maybe for me to back up and let him in. The tone of his voice made me feel like a child again. A feeling of dread wound around me like a spool of thread. Panic tightened in my chest, anticipating the subject of discussion. I couldn’t do it twice in one day. And not with him.

I spun around and sat
on my bed. “Talk? Now you want to talk? What have you been doing for the last four years, Dad? You and I—we do not talk. Sorry, but you happened to miss an important time in my life when I was learning how to do that! And I shouldn’t have to apologize.
You
left
us
!”

My breaths heaved in
my chest. I was shocked at the natural emergence of my anger—not feigned, as I intended. I could feel it fighting its way out. The bitter resentment escaped my mouth as I continued. “And all for a selfish summer fling with some other woman.”

I looked away, unable to face the hurt in his eyes, and not allowing him to see the pain in mine. It took another minute before he walked over to my bed. He hesitated before sitting beside me.

“Allie, would you look at me, please?” His tone was softer, no doubt displacing his own pain for the time being.

I was ashamed for losing the battle inside
myself but still wary. Complying, I looked up. He reached out, then thought better of it and pulled back. He was silent for a minute, while I turned away again.

“I know you’re going through a hard time. I expected this
would be hard for you. And this time, I’m not just talking about getting to know Nick and Clara. I haven’t forgotten what happened the last time we were here.”

Of course not.
How could anyone?
My hands fidgeted.

“I know you
haven’t forgotten either. I see it on your face every day. You’re hurting. That’s actually a large part of why I brought you up here.”

My eyes flashed over to his face. He reached out again, this time placing a tentative hand on mine.

“Your mom—well, all of us—have been really worried that you haven’t talked to anyone about what happened. She said you spend most of your free time running by yourself and that you don’t hang out with your friends much, or even talk on the phone. It’s not healthy, Allie. The...therapist that Aunt Heidi is seeing suggested bringing you back to the scene where it all happened...with Maddie.” He paused, perhaps testing my reaction to her name, or maybe because I was glowering at him.

I threw his hand off mine. The words that came out of my mouth were shrill.
“Is that your idea of a sick joke? Just to throw me back into the scene of the crime so I can feel like a murderer all over again?”

Dad
put his hands up. “Allie, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. We had a plan. We were letting you get comfortable up here first. We hoped you would get used to being around water again and make some new friends. The therapist emphasized helping you socialize again by creating a support group. And we’re lucky that’s working out so well, even better than I could have hoped. This therapist is scheduled to come up in a couple of weeks, and we were going to help you through the healing process together. Sort of an intervention—”

“An intervention?
What, like I’m some lab rat you’re experimenting with, seeing how much you could poke and prod me until I open up and spill my soul? And
socialize
...”

My eyes shot
towards the door, remembering my new friend who was always around, always supportive. Realization and understanding cleared my head. It had been too easy. Angry betrayal lit up my face. “So, is Brooke in on this too? Just a personal chess piece as part of your ploy to help me ‘get comfortable’? How much are you paying her, Dad? How dare you? How dare you!” I jumped off the bed and stormed out my bedroom door. I almost ran into Aaron, who was coming down the hall.

“Whoa!
Allie, you all right?”

Another convenient ally.

I dodged past him, marching out the front door, and banging it shut behind me for the second time that day.

It was dim outside. The
overcast clouds still shaded the early-evening light. Fuming, I tromped towards the outdoor court. It was quiet and empty. I grabbed a basketball lying against the wall, used and forgotten. I dribbled, the hollow thumping filling the still void in the air.

Who do they
think they are? An intervention...Some know-it-all therapist...

I took a sloppy shot. The ball hit the backboard and bounced back towards me.

I thought of Brooke and Aaron, saddened by the artificial friendships.

Traitors! How could I be so naïve?

Another angry shot missed the backboard, the ball arching and hitting the ground with a useless thud. I scowled, walking to retrieve my ball, while hiking up the long, gray sweats that unrolled at my ankles. I stopped in my tracks, a sudden wave of nausea hitting the pit of my stomach. My thoughts turned towards Damien, sickened with total comprehension.

He was in on it, too.
I thought of the compassion in his eyes, the warmth and tenderness of his skin on mine...

None of it was real. It was all
part of this heartless scheme to help me ‘open up’. It made sense now.
Of course
, he knew where I was by the river. And I trusted him. Told him everything.

“Try this one,” a voice called, interrupting my
heartbreaking epiphany.

I looked to the side,
catching an orange blur in my hands.

“Nice reflexes,” Aaron said, walking over to me. I squeezed the ball be
tween my hands with a wary expression. I glared at him, shoving the ball as hard as I could at his chest.

He caught it with ease
but looked at me in surprise. “Wow, what’s with the hostility?” His expression melded into concern.

He was a very good actor.

They just won’t give up, will they?

He bounced the ball to me. I stood there facing him, maintaining my glare. It didn’t seem to faze him.

“Well, are you going to shoot it or just hold onto it?” he asked, looking to the hoop with anticipation.

Annoyed at his
persistance, I let out a huff of air. I dribbled three times and took a third shot. The ball arched, falling with a satisfying swoosh through the net.

“There you go. See, I heard you could play. You just
need to lighten up a bit.” Aaron jogged to the hoop and picked up the ball. “What’s with the silent treatment?”

Disappointment infiltrate
d my wall of anger. I longed for these relationships to be more than a strategic means to explore my past. I sat down cross-legged on the cool cement, sinking inside Damien’s clothes.

I shut my eyes. The thought of him made me sigh.

“I want to know what’s real,” I said. Confused images drifted through my mind, reflecting on the events of these past couple of weeks. I felt a hand on my knee, and opened my eyes as Aaron sat down beside me. He waited.

“I want to kn
ow if you and Brooke are my friends or if...you’re just a part of this ridiculous ruse to...I don’t know what. I don’t know what my dad expects me to get out of being here again. You can’t change the past or just make it go away. No matter how much you want to.”

Aaron was quiet in thought for a minute. Then he popped up to his feet, extending his right hand towards me. “Come on. We’re going to play a game.”

“What?” His response took me by surprise, but I clasped my hand around his and allowed him to pull me to my feet.

He picked up the basketball. “What do you say about a short game of ‘PIG’? You start.” He handed me the ball.

“Ok,” I agreed with hesitancy, not positive I understood his intentions. I stood at the top of the key and threw the ball with a small hop. It fell through the net. Aaron retrieved the ball and mimicked my shot from where I stood. It hit the top of the rim and repelled away.

“All right.
So I have a “P”. And you get to ask me a question.” He collected the ball while I stood there in thought.

I pondered my earlier statement.

I want to know what’s real.
I looked back at him. “Why would any friend of Nick’s bother being nice to me?”

“Ah. Easy one,” he responded. “Well, con
sidering the awful picture Nick painted of you before we met, you turned out to be a pretty cool girl.”

I grimaced, wondering what kinds of things Nick had said. What a rat!

“I think Nick has a skewed version of who you are in that thick head of his. He’s a tough one to get to know. I mean, if I didn’t grow up with the kid, I wouldn’t like him either.” Aaron laughed in thought. “Our first couple of months in the dorm, he got in more fights than anyone. He’s bullheaded and opinionated, all of which you already know, I’m sure. But I’ll tell you one thing. When Nick’s on your side, he makes one loyal sidekick.”

Ignoring the skepticism in my face, Aaron continued.

“So, to answer the question behind your question: No, I did not know anything about the, err...intervention idea. Neither did Brooke. How we treat you has nothing to do with it. We are not “chess pieces”, as you put it.”

I blushed, realizing with no surprise that he had heard me yelling at
Dad. But I was flooded with relief, grateful that perhaps my new friendships might be genuine after all. Maybe even with Damien.

“All right.
Take another shot,” he said, rolling the ball into my hands.

I slid along the key, clos
er to the net. My angle was off and the ball rebounded. I shrugged. “Can’t get ‘em every time, right?” I picked up the ball and tossed it to Aaron.

He dribbled a couple
of times, paused, and then gave me a sly smile. He sprinted towards the hoop, leaped into the air, and slam-dunked the ball. He hung onto the rim for a second longer, letting out a loud whoop. When he landed, he ambled back over with playful arrogance, to where I stood with my arms crossed.

“Do you
really think that’s fair?” I asked, sizing up my five-foot-seven height beneath his towering form.

“Hey,
I didn’t say we were going to play fair. You’re up, little one.” He laughed when I scoffed at him.

Oh, boy.

I pulled up against the baggy sweats, making space for my bare feet to touch the ground. I made a dash towards the hoop, preparing to thrust myself into the air. My pathetic efforts were squashed when I tripped on the sagging material underneath me. I staggered, catching my fall with quick footsteps before I lost the ball. I watched it roll away, letting out a loud laugh, despite myself. Behind me, I could hear I wasn’t the only one that was entertained.