When I woke up I packed. We left for home as soon as everyone was ready. Michael accompanied us, afraid I might do something stupid. They hadn’t heard the rest of the message and didn’t push for me to tell it but I got the feeling they knew exactly what it said. I stayed awake the whole eight hours home. When we got there I got out, Luke said he’d take the bags back to the house. School was in session but I skipped all of that and headed to Aidan’s room. The matron didn’t say anything when I entered, he probably figured there were no boys then there’d be no trouble.
I stood in front of Aidan’s door for what felt like hours before I opened it. The door was unlocked just like I expected. Michael stayed out in the hallway as I went inside. I flipped on the light and found the room completely trashed. Security had come through, just like he said. I closed the door behind me and rested against it. Taking it all in. The bed had been tossed, papers, clothes, and books were scattered across the room.
I couldn’t stand it, the mess. I fixed the bed and made it. I put the books back on the shelf and gathered the papers in a pile. I put them on the desk where his computer used to be but they took that. On the top shelf of his desk used to be a picture of us, taken randomly one day. The frame remained, face down, but when I picked it up the picture was gone. I flipped it over and took the back off, a folded piece of paper popped up. I unfolded it and there was a rough sketch of me. One of his firsts I would imagine since it wasn’t all that great. Technically the only way I knew it was me was because my name was printed at the bottom in preteen writing.
I sank down in his desk chair and rested my head against the wood.
Why Aidan? Why would you do this?
I still couldn’t believe it was him even thought he told me himself. I still didn’t understand even though he explained it. I heard the door open but I didn’t look.
“Georgiana,” my father’s soft voice drifted through the room.
I choked on a sob and looked up at him. “Hi Daddy.”
He came in and closed the door. “What are you doing here, honey?”
I just stared at him like he was crazy. I looked back down at the sketch and folded it back up. I shoved it in my coat pocket and turned the chair to face him.
“He wasn’t…Daddy…he wasn’t…”
My father looked stern, like he was about to launch into lecture mode.
“He hurt your brother, Georgiana, no matter the reason. Sophie too.”
I nodded, choking on my tears.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he continued. “In fact I never want to see you in this room again.”
I looked up at him, keeping my anger to a dull pin prick.
“Daddy, I’m the only one left that…”
“After you leave today, you will not be allowed back. Is that clear?”
“Who is packing his stuff?”
“Staff.”
My anger boiled. “His parents…”
“They asked that we send his things. They’re not coming.”
“Then I’ll do it. I’ll pack his stuff.”
“Georgiana…”
“Daddy,” I said sternly. “I will not have his things tossed around again. I will not have someone pack up his room that didn’t care about him.”
“Georgiana…”
“I’m serious. I’m the only one left. I’m his family, Daddy. I will pack up his room.”
I don’t know why I wanted to pack everything so badly but I felt like I needed to. Maybe it was so I could do my own investigation, maybe it was to say goodbye. He studied me carefully and finally nodded. “Fine. Everything that could be viewed as dangerous has already been removed. I’ll have boxes sent over later tonight. You may come back tomorrow and pack his things but that’s it.”
“What about his art? Where is it?”
My father’s face darkened. “It’s still in the art room.”
“Including his senior thesis?”
My father nodded. He was not happy about this. I could tell by the set of his jaw.
“Did his parents request that as well?”
“No.”
“Then I’d like to keep it.”
“Georgiana. He stabbed your brother…”
“Was it lethal?”
“That doesn’t matter…”
“He left him alive.”
“He could have killed him…”
“But he didn’t. That has to count for something.”
“Georgiana…”
“Daddy. Please. I know you don’t understand but…he wasn’t a horrible person. He didn’t…he didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
“But he did. He stabbed your brother and knocked Sophie upside the head. It was a miracle she didn’t have a concussion. I don’t understand why you’re acting this way. Yes he was your first boyfriend but it’s not like…”
“I love him.”
My father’s eyes grew wide. He stepped back like I’d slapped him.
“You don’t…”
“I mean it. I love him, Daddy, and no matter what he did I will not have him disrespected…”
“Georgiana…”
“She’s right,” my mother said.
I turned to look at her, tears clouding my vision and threatening to spill over. She was standing in the open doorway, one hand on the doorknob.
“Sybil…the boy…”
“Made a mistake. But she’s right. He didn’t intentionally hurt anyone. From what Sebastis said Aidan only stabbed him because he had to.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Your brother inflicted some damage himself. He said Aidan was already hurt from an injury he received the day before. The only reason your brother got the upper hand was because Aidan held back. He didn’t want to hurt him.”
“Mom…”
“I’m not condoning what he did, Gee. But you’re right, his things should be respected. Tiberius, do what your daughter asks.”
My father looked at my mother solemnly and finally nodded. He exited the room without saying anything else to either of us.
“I’ll have a crate delivered to the art room this afternoon. I’ll help you pack them.”
Tears started streaming down my face and my mother opened her arms. I ran into them and started to cry again.
“Its ok honey,” she whispered. “Everything will be ok.”
My mother took me home and we talked. Luke and Michael were busy in the security office, Michael getting reinstated in his old position I assumed. I told her everything, omitting some of the more…personal parts. She teared up a few times but didn’t say anything. I sat next to my mother and stared straight ahead. I didn’t know what else to do. She had her arms wrapped around me, trying to comfort me while I talked. Afterwards she didn’t say anything for a while and when she did she spoke very softly.
“Georgiana…I don’t really know what to say.”
“There’s nothing really to say.”
“And Michael and Luke listened to it? The message you told me about?”
“Not all of it. There was a point where…I sent them out of the room towards the end. I couldn’t take the sympathy in their eyes.”
“Oh honey.” My mother pulled me against her and held me while I started to cry again.
“I don’t know what to do…” I sobbed. “It hurts so much…”
“I know, baby,” she said, “and it’s going to continue to hurt. But you have to deal with it.”
My mother was right. I had to deal with it. But I wanted to see my brother first. She took me to see him and as I looked through the glass at him, smiling and laughing with Sophie, I almost didn’t go in. But then he looked up and saw me. I expected to see a look of sympathy on his face. Instead I saw a look of understanding and love. I pushed open the door and stood at the foot of the bed.
“I was wondering when you’d come see me,” he said.
“I’m sorry…”
He shook his head. “Don’t.” He looked over at Sophie. “Can you give us…?”
“Sure.”
Sophie stood up and came over to me, giving me a hug. She pulled the privacy curtain
“Sebastis, I…”
“Have a seat,” he said softly. “Dad came to see me. Told me you gave him the shake down.”
I didn’t look at my brother but I nodded.
“Good for you.”
I finally looked up at him, thinking he was cracking a joke. He wasn’t. He was serious.
“I thought you’d…”
“Be angry? Hurt? No. I understand. Despite him stabbing me…I understood why he did what he did. If I was in his shoes and you were Sophie…I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same things he did.”
“I just…part of me doesn’t understand…”
My brother reached over and took my hand. “Love makes us do crazy things, Gremlin. For Aidan, he just wanted to protect you. I don’t agree with the way he went about doing it but…if I thought I was going to lose Sophie…I’d try to protect her too.”
“Mom said you…hurt him?”
“I got a few good licks in. His ribs were bruised, he said he got the injury in sparring class. I cut him a few times but he got my knife and stabbed me. Just like they trained us. But I have a feeling the knife wasn’t supposed to go in my arm. He was aiming for my chest but at the last second…he stabbed me in the arm.”
I nodded. He squeezed my hand. “Dad said you were going to pack up his stuff…do you want my help?”
Tears slid down my face. “No. I can do it. It might take me all day but…I can do it.”
“You sure?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure. He said…Mom told me I can stash his stuff in the storage container on campus if I wanted to so…I might not send his stuff back…just in case.”
“He can’t come back, Gee. The school has officially expelled him.”
“I know. And I wouldn’t imagine him coming back but…his parents don’t care about him. I’m the only family he has.”
“That’s a big burden, Grem.”
“Someone has to care about him, Bast. I don’t…I can’t imagine him out there alone…by himself with no one to care.”
“You’re too kind, Sister.”
“I wouldn’t give up on you either,” I said. “If it was you…I wouldn’t give up.”
“Well it’s not like he’s evil or anything…”
The corner of my mouth twitched. “No, he’s not.”
My mother left a note with the nurse saying the crate had arrived. When I was ready I could head over. I walked across campus alone. Several of the students gave me a wide berth, not even looking at me. It was like I had lepercy just because I’d dated the traitor. That’s what they were calling him right now, even though no one knew what happened. All they knew was he’d stabbed my brother and then disappeared. It was all very mysterious to them.
I entered the building and headed to the art room. My mother stood in the doorway, talking to a teacher I’d never seen before. When he looked up, recognition registered in his eyes.
“This is my daughter, Georgiana,” my mother said.
“Hi.”
He held out his hand. “Hello.”
I shook it and I was struck with the similarities his hands poised to Aidan’s. They were splattered with paint and he had a faint smell of paint thinner.
“I didn’t allow security to touch anything when they came by. It’s all just the way he left it,” the teacher said.
I nodded and headed in. The crate sat by the large wooden painting holder thing. I noticed one slot was empty. The first one in the line. I tried to remember which painting used to be there.
The one of me sitting on the bed. The one he’d done from imagination since he’d never seen me…
I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill out. This was neither the place nor the time to be crying. I started unloading the top line, his smaller paintings. The impressions and fruit, landscapes and paint splotches. I hesitated when I reached the bottom row. They were all of me, I knew.
My mother came over when she saw the hesitation. The teacher excused himself, leaving us alone in his classroom.
“What’s the matter, honey?”
“I don’t think I can…”
My mother gathered me in her arms. “It’s ok. How about we do it together?”
I drew back and nodded. She slowly pulled out the first one and her eyes widened.
“It’s of you.”
“They all are. I’ve been his subject for a while.”
“He’s very good,” she commented, placing the painting in one of the slots in the crate. She pulled out the next one. “Very good.”
We finished unloading the rack and it was time for me to get the senior thesis from the easel. His grades were pinned to the cloth tarp covering his easel. He’d gotten A’s on everything. I unpinned them, folded the paper, and tucked it in the back pocket of my jeans. I sat up on the stool and stared at the tarp. I couldn’t bring myself to take it off but I had to. My mother left me alone to do this. I looked at the paints and the brushes. I picked up the one I saw him clean the last time I’d been here to see him. The wood was cool and bristles dry. I held the brush in both of my hands before putting it back.
Slowly I pulled the cloth tarp off the painting.
I stared at it. Aidan was right. It was finished. I can’t tell you the angle because I don’t know the correct term but…it looked like someone had taken a photo angled at the sky, looking out and up just slightly. I was standing barefoot in the grass. A field stretched out around me. I was wearing the dress I’d worn to the party, our first date. My hair was down and frozen mid-blow. My hands were down at my sides and I was looking up at a hawk in the sky. The look on the half of my face that I could see was sad. The hawk was flying away and in my left hand I held a feather. The colors were all muted to grays, whites and blacks. Accept for my hair and the feather in my hand.
I started crying. You’d think I’d done enough of that but the tears kept coming. I reached out and touched the hawk in the sky. He’d known, somehow, he would be the one who left me. I hunched over on the stool, bowing my head, covering my face with one hand while the other wrapped around my middle.
My mother, alerted by my crying, came back in the room. I heard her approach me and she placed a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged her off.
“It’s not fair.”
“I know,” she said softly. “Love rarely is.”