One week later
Cops aren't as smart as they'd like people to think. I know that because it didn't take much to fool two of them at the same time. I mean, I wasn't surprised when a missing report went out the next day after the incident. Aaron's parents are high up in the business field; of course they'd get the whole of Seabrook searching for their kid. It didn't take long to find him. Some lady who went jogging on the trail saw him crumpled and dirty, and an investigation opened up real quick.
The cops questioned everyone who knew Aaron, but they focused on the swim team and me. Mostly me. I didn't mind it since they had to. I was the last person with him, after all. Two cops showed up at the trailer—I didn't go to school since I was supposed to be 'grieving'—and said they needed me to come down to the station. So I did. They put me in some room with one table, two cops on one side while I'm at the other. Then the questions started.
"I'm sure you heard about what happened to Aaron, right?" one of them said. His eyes were oozing with sympathy, so it was only natural that I pulled my eyebrows together and looked at my hands.
"Yeah, I did."
"Look, son, I know this'll be hard for you, but we have to get down to what really happened. Can you tell us where you were last Thursday?"
I paused for about thirty seconds before speaking. Answering too quick would seem rehearsed. "My friend Casper invited me over to the community pool. Some of the guys on the team like going there to swim a few laps."
"Can you tell us who was there exactly?"
I looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think. "Um...me, Casper, Aaron, and two other guys. I think their names were Nick and Andrew. I'm not sure. But yeah, I tagged along. I can't swim, so I waited for them to finish so we could get burgers."
"But Aaron never got burgers, did he?"
Ten seconds. "No. Aaron and I had a...misunderstanding that needed to be cleared up. That's the whole reason I went in the first place. So when they were done, Aaron and I split off and went to talk."
The other officer was writing furiously in his notebook, occasionally looking up to make sure I wasn't lying. He didn't have an ounce of pity in his eyes.
"Can you tell us about the misunderstanding?"
"Oh, it was stupid," I said with a shake of my head. "I think he was a little pissed that I was hanging out with Casper more. I'm not exactly part of the same social class, if you haven't noticed, so he told Casper that I threatened him or something. He apologised for it that day, though. I let it go."
"And how did he look like when he was apologising?"
"First he was angry; started yelling at me for talking to Casper in the first place. And then he got a real sad. It was weird. He said sorry, and I forgave him, but he didn't look that great."
Both officers were looking at me by that point. "What do you mean?"
"He was sulking. Shoulders hunched. Eyes always on the floor. They looked a little red, too. I told him we should forget about it and just join the others, but he told me to go ahead. Said he wasn't feeling well and that he'd go home." I placed my head in my hands. "Man, I'm so stupid! I knew something was going on. If I had just stayed he wouldn't—"
The officer with the soft eyes slouched in his seat a little. "You know about the note, then."
"Everyone knows about the note."
"Then you should also know it wasn't your fault. Aaron had things he was fighting on the inside—things we may never find out. You can't blame yourself for his way of handling it. You hear me?"
I nodded instead of speaking, which brought out more sympathy from the old bastard. This poor kid, he probably thought. He didn't have a clue.
That's all it took. The rest of the questions were real mundane and easy to answer, so I got through them in a breeze.
Did he hit you?
No, but he looked like he wanted to.
Did you hit him?
No, I didn't.
Did he tell you why he was down?
No sir.
Do you know anything else about him?
We weren't friends. I only knew his name, really.
What was the last thing he said to you?
I'm sorry. You go ahead; I'll go home. I'll be fine.
The back of Casper's hand grazes mine softly. I look at him and offer a light smile, but it doesn't erase that worried look on his face. How long have I been staring into space? How long has he noticed?
The priest is still preaching about heaven and all. The church smells like burning candles and fresh cut flowers, which isn't helping my mood much. God, I hate funerals. I don't understand the point. Why not just bury the bastard and go on with our lives? Why do we have to stand in tight church pews, clad in black, and decorate his goddamn portrait with lilies while some old guy prays over it? What will that do for him? There is no point. No fucking point at all.
At least I finally get to use those dress shoes I bought.
Casper takes my hand and gives it a tight squeeze before looking back at the priest. It only lasts for a millisecond, but it's long enough to send a new wave of heat to my face. He's been real touchy ever since it happened. He's always around the corner, looking worried like I might drop dead right in front of him at any second. I don't blame him though. I haven't been eating and I always look so goddamn tired. That's not because of Aaron, though. The nightmares haven't left.
"Let us go in peace," the old man says, "and live out the word of God."
The choir starts singing like they did when we first came in, but nobody's listening much. Everyone's itching to get out. I follow Casper out of the pews but stop for a moment to look at Aaron's picture. It's just a blown up school ID—nothing special. He isn't smiling much.
"It feels weird, doesn't it?" Casper says. I hadn't noticed he was looking too. "One moment someone's there, then the next they're gone." He shakes his head. "You never know what's going on in someone's head. I mean, you might think you know a person, but you don't. You never will."
It's getting hard to breathe. I loosen the tie that's too long for me and try to dig up a smile, but it only comes out lopsided and ugly. "His eyes are making me feel uncomfortable, to be honest."
Casper frowns. "I know. Let's go outside."
I refrain from holding his hand as I follow him out. I've only done it once, to be honest. The day they found the body. He cried a lot. I don't even think he realised I was holding his damn hand anyway. But it was nice. His hands are soft.
"I'm going to host this get together thing at my place for him," Casper says once we're out in the cool autumn air. "I didn't decide it until last night, to be honest. All the adults are going over to his place, but I don't think our class will feel comfortable there, you know? So my parents are letting me use our house." He looks at me. The rings around his eyes are still a little red. "You'll come, right? You don't have to if you're not feeling up to it. I just don't want you to be alone or something. Not right now."
"I won't kill myself, Casper. You've got to stop worrying about that."
I shouldn't have said that. Damn it, I really shouldn't have said that. Casper shifts his eyes down to the floor, jaw clenched as he swallows hard. I open my mouth to apologise but he composes himself rather quickly, straightening his back and offering a tight smile.
"I know. I'm sorry. I know. I'm going to go around and let people know about it, all right? By the time I get back, let me know if you're coming or not."
Of course I'm coming. I wouldn't ever deny an invitation from him. But I still let him walk off, watching as he mingles easily with the different clutter of groups throughout the lot.
Man, he really cares. Why the hell does he care so much? Especially over a guy like Aaron? He was a problem. He said it himself. And I fixed it. So shouldn't he be happy? Why did he have to cry? Why is he acting like this is the most devastating thing?
"Holden?" I feel a hand on my back. I whip around only to see a short woman and a pudgy man standing side by side, holding hands. Crap. It's the bastard's parents. "It is you," the woman says. "I didn't recognise you for a moment there. I like your suit."
"Thanks." It's Casper's. "It's my dad's."
She nods, but her eyes don't show she registered anything I just told her. They're hollow as hell. It's your fault for breeding a problem. Not mine. "I just came over to say hi. We never got around to officially chatting yet, have we? Not with..." she pauses to put a hand at her throat. What's with old ladies and their hands at their throats? "Anyway, I just wanted to remind you to keep going strong. It must be hard for people your age—losing someone you once went to classes with. And you were the last one to see him...oh, what must be going through your head!"
She throws her arms around my neck and hugs. Tight. I don't know what the hell to do, but once her husband puts a hand on my shoulder, I realise I should be holding her back. We stand there for a while, holding each other like we're family. She smells like the goddamn flowers in the church room. I hate it.
"You poor thing," she says once she pulls away. "You poor, poor boy."
"Your son...I think he might've regretted it," I blurt out before I can even think about what I'm saying. "I think he might've regretted his decision at the very last moment. He wouldn't have wanted to hurt you guys. I know it. And I wish I had better judgement then. If I had just stayed with him and made sure he got home, we wouldn't be here. I just feel...you know..."
Hell, even I didn't know. But Aaron's mom still nods with some tears running down her face, as if she knows exactly what I want to say even though I don't. She takes my hand and gives it a light squeeze, then stretches to give me a kiss on the cheek.
She actually kissed my goddamn cheek.
"You know, Holden, I'm glad my son spent his last moments with a boy like you," she says. Her voice sounds like she's underwater. "It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself for it. It's not your fault."
***
"So how much do you think Aaron's mom paid for that funeral?"
"Leigh, seriously?"
"I mean it." The girl shakes her head as if it'll change everyone's mind. "The Catholic church doesn't like it when people do...that. So to have a traditional funeral is—"
"Leigh, stop. It's too soon."
The area around the couch goes silent. There's about a little over a handful of people at Casper's house, each sticking to their own respective groups. Except Casper, of course. He's travelling around like it's his day job.
I don't know why I'm at the couch with these people. I don't know half of them, and they sure as hell don't know me. They mostly act like I'm not even there, but that's okay. I'd rather be invisible.
"I wonder what he was going through," another girl says. I'd already forgotten her name. "I mean, to do that to yourself...it must've been something terrible."
"The only person who knows what really went down is Aaron," another guy replies, "and it's not like he'll tell us anytime soon."
They fall into silence again, looking sad as hell.
"He was a good swimmer," Leigh says after a while. "Did you guys ever watch him? He was small, sure, but still good."
Not great. I know everyone's thinking it. It shows right on their faces.
"How did he look when you were with him?" It takes a moment to realise Leigh's speaking to me. "You were the last one who saw him, right? How was he?"
Everyone turns to look at me then. Some of them are patient, some surprised to even find me sitting there, while others look annoyed that I'm there in the first place. I open my mouth but close it again when I can't make a sound. I already thought this through. But why can't I say it?
"It's kind of funny," another girl speaks up when I fail to make a reply. "The guy he hated the most was the last face he saw. Damn. Imagine going like that."
"He apologised for it, though," a voice behind me says. I jump a mile high in my seat, whipping my head around to see Casper standing right behind me. He gives my shoulder a single pat even though he's ignoring my eyes. How long did his hand linger? Three seconds? Five? "Aaron apologised for whatever happened, so it's okay. He went in peace."
Leigh shifts in her seat and shrugs, taking a small sip from her Coke. "Here comes Casper to the rescue. You're always hanging around the kid nowadays. What are you, his mom?"
"More like Seabrook's number one couple," the other girl says, then snorts like she just cracked the funniest goddamn joke in history.
Casper stares at the group for a moment before slinging his arms over my shoulders, resting his head against my neck. "Aren't we the cutest?"
I should be happy. I should be really frickin' happy. I mean, here he is with his arms around me and his head within kissing distance, smelling like expensive shampoo and even more expensive cologne. But my stomach can't stop churning and my heart won't stop beating. And everyone is just staring and laughing like what he said is so fucking funny and—
I need to puke.
"Excuse me," I say and jump to my feet. Casper looks surprised as hell, so I mumble an apology before weaving through the small groups to get to the stairs. I bolt up the steps like my life depends on it. I mean, in a way, it does. If I puke right now, could I ever face these people again? Could they ever face me?
It's easy finding Casper's room. The door is open. I rush through and go straight to the bathroom before leaning over the toilet. I heave, but nothing comes out. Not a single goddamn thing.
After a while, I guide my way over to the sink and flip open the tap. My stomach's still churning, so I cup the water in my hands and bring it to my lips. I don't know what makes me throw the water on my face, but I do. I can be real stupid sometimes. A big idiot.
I can't help but wonder if Aaron's looking down at me right now. What's he thinking? Look at him—he's so pathetic. Why the hell was he at my funeral? What place does he have there? What right does he have to receive a kiss from my own goddamn mother?
I shut off the tap rather roughly and sit on the dark tiled floor. Water keeps dripping from my lashes and finds its way in my eyes, but I don't mind the sting. I can't bring myself to mind anything as of late.
I hear shuffling from the room. I hold my breath, and soon enough, Casper peers past the doorway to look at me. He looks concerned as fuck. His eyes glance at my wet hair, then my wet face, and finally the tremble of my hands. I don't notice until he stares at them, to be honest. I can't get them to stop.
"What are you doing?"
Something lodges right in my throat when he says that. I think I need to puke again but I can't get myself off the floor. I can't stop looking at him.
"What are you doing, Holden?"
"D-don't. Please, don't. You can't ask me that. Not you."
"Whoa, whoa, what's wrong?" He comes bustling in the washroom and kneels in front of me, putting a hand on my shoulder. Has he always been this touchy? Or am I just realising this now? "Hey, Holden, look at me. What is it? What are you—"
"Don't!" I don't mean to yell at him, but it's already done. I put my head in my hands and start rubbing away like I'm performing some ritual. Holy crap. Who am I—Elizabeth? "I can't believe this is happening. Not you. Anyone but you. Please, don't say that to me. I can't handle it. I can't."
My body's vibrating like a goddamn jackhammer. Even so, Casper's arms wrap around me and hold me 'till I'm still, his hand rubbing my shoulder the way moms do on TV.
"Hey, hey, it's alright. I'm sorry. It's okay. You can cry, Holden. It's just me here. It's okay to cry."
I want to cry. I really want to cry. But what's there to cry about? Surely not Aaron's death. And sobbing over the fact that he said something is stupid. I hate that shit—when people cry over nothing in particular. It annoys the hell out of me.
But then that lump in my throat crumbles, and a sob lurches itself right out. I try squeezing my eyelids shut, but tears still manage to slip through, mixing with the water on my face. God, how embarrassing. I want to hide my face in my hands, but Casper doesn't let me. Instead, he eases my head on his shoulder, his hand lingering against my hair for about three seconds. Was that for sympathy? Or is it something deeper?
My heart's pounding against my ears. I'm saying a thousand things at once that he probably doesn't even understand because I'm sobbing like a goddamn fool. I keep repeating things like, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening to me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I don't know what the hell I'm apologising for, anyway. He doesn't care. He keeps rubbing my shoulder and mutters, "It's alright," like I'll magically stop crying if he says it enough.
I want to stop crying, but I can't. So we just sit there at the sink cabinets, my head on his shoulder and his arms around me while I stain his nice shirt with salty tears and snot. But he doesn't mind. I mean, he starts touching my back after a while. Slow, smooth circles.
"I'm sorry," I say again. But should I be?
"Don't apologise, Holden."
"What if someone comes in? What if they see?"
"Who the hell cares if someone sees? Let them look."
Man, that nearly kills me. That nearly fucking kills me, I swear. I look at him then and quit sobbing, wondering if I heard right. Am I supposed to be overanalyzing it? Does he want me to? If I say something about it now, will he move away? I don't want him to leave. Not by a long shot. And judging the look in his eyes, I don't think he wants me to either.
Casper stares at me for a moment before shaking his head. His averts his eyes to anything but mine, some subtle smile stuck on his face. "God, you look like shit," he says, but he still doesn't let go. Not for a very, very long time.