La Mort et ses Merveilles
Chapter 28: Forget Me Not
I decided to wear my dad's Hawaiian shirt that morning, the very same one I had worn when Leslie and I went on a trip together all the way to the other side of Nebraska. It was partly deliberate, partly out of necessity. I only had a few outfits that I could fit in that haversack that I had with me since we left Minnesota, and I couldn't fill it with clothes when we were moving around from place to place. I was happy with my wardrobe: dad's shirt, two sweaters, a pair of sweatpants and a pair of straight stretchy jeans. I had the stretchy jeans on today, and it went quite well with the shirt. Honestly I had been quite worried about our lack of winter clothes with the coming of the colder months, but now that we were at the convent I suppose I didn't need to think too much about that.
When I reached Leslie's room, he was still asleep. Strange, I thought to myself, wasn't he pretty enthusiastic about it? The trip was his idea in the first place. Usually I'd expected him to be ready by the time I was up, but well, maybe he overslept.
"Oh, right," was the only thing he said after waking up, when I shook his bare shoulders.
Without saying a word, he slipped up from his bed, throwing the blanket off his shirtless torso. He got undressed in front of me while I waited on the sofa, tossing off his pants leaving everything in view. Usually he'd make a lewd comment or throw me a suggestive look whenever his privates were exposed but he didn't this time. There was an obvious tension in the air.
"You brought your camera right?" he asked, finally breaking the silence as he slipped on a pair of grey trunks. "I'm sure you'll get to take some nice pretty pictures today."
"Yeah," I replied. "It's in the bag. I'm bringing about 10 shots of film so we better make this count."
"Make it count," he said, picking up a pair of jeans.
I watched as he bent down, pulling his pants up his hairy legs.
"You done checking me out yet?" he said as he flashed me a smirk.
There it was, classic Leslie. I only stuck my tongue out as my rolled as my eyes. Maybe I had been imagining the tension after all. Maybe he was just tired, maybe he's already forgotten what I've said yesterday. Whatever it was, it was gone. I was probably just too self-absorbed.
He finally covered his bare torso with a rather thin grey T-shirt that made his arms look big. Turning to look at me, I could feel his eyes scanning me up and down. Finally, he took something from his shelf and tossed it at me.
I caught it just before it hit my face. Looking down, I found myself holding onto a rather clumped up denim jacket.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"You know," he said. "It's getting colder and you look like you'd need it."
"Thanks," I muttered as I slipped it on, the heavy jacket resting on my shoulders. "Smells like you."
The young man chuckled as he picked up his backpack slumped on the floor.
"I'm going to get breakfast," he told me. "You wait by the truck -and make sure Clara doesn't see you!"
"You too," I told him, as he left.
Collecting myself, I stretched my arms in front of me. Yeah, everything was normal, or it seems like it. I was very positive that he knew that I mentioned my dad the previous day. Maybe he forgot about it.
But that wasn't going to stop me. This was something I've been meaning to do for quite a while. It's been a few months since we lost my dad, and it was well due that I came to visit, now that Isabella was safe and fed. Sure, it didn't really make sense but I needed some closure. And that's why I needed Leslie to come with me. I loved him, but I couldn't reconcile the fact that my boyfriend was also the one that killed my father. Honestly, I was also tired of being at conflict with myself, and I was tired of cuddling with Leslie only to have a voice nagging at the back of my head that whatever that I was doing was not right.
I waited in the passenger seat in the dark, my trusty hammer in my pocket. I had my camera in my backpack, as well as the keys to the Bauer farmhouse.
Just in case we needed to crash somewhere.
Leslie arrived soon enough, flashing the torchlight into the window. I could hear him giggle as I winced at the bright light shining into my eyes.
"Real mature, Leslie," I groaned as he hopped into the driver's seat.
"What," he replied with a chuckle. "You're cute when you're annoyed.
I only rolled my eyes. It was then when I felt my shoulder being prodded.
"I got you coffee," he said, handing me a flask. "You like it black, don't you?"
"Aww," I couldn't help but let it loose from my lips. "You remembered."
"Yeah," he replied. "And mine's the sweet one. Just like me."
"Oh, you're really pushing it today," I chuckled as I shook my head.
"What can I say," he shrugged, "I'm irresistible."
Before he could kill me with his awful cheesy lines, he turned on the headlights and started to drive down the road. It was then when I decided to try and confirm my suspicions.
"You're just wearing the t-shirt?" I asked him.
"Is there anything wrong with it?" he shot back, getting a bit defensive.
"No," I said, shaking my head. "It looks good on you, makes your arms look really big."
"Thanks."
"Just wondered if you got cold wearing only that," I prodded, looking down at my nails. "Isn't the material quite thin?"
"Well it isn't even that cold yet," he said. "You think I'd worried about the cold when I have you here with me?
Exactly what I needed. I ignored the clichéd pickup line and proceeded
With the next part of my plan. Leslie watched as I slipped off the denim jacket and tossed it into the backseat.
"It's not that cold," I said, my gaze locked with his.
I noticed him shifting his eyes uneasily back onto the road in front of us. He seemed to have noticed, but just kept silent. I just sat there, knowing full well that he could see my dad's shirt. I wanted him to see it. I wanted him to remember what he did.
It was then when the truck suddenly screeched to a halt.
"Why'd you stop?" I asked.
"I want you to stop it," he said, his voice gruff.
There was a heavy tension in the air. I looked at him, examined his guilty blue eyes and his quivering lips, the headlights casting shadows on his face. I only shrugged.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I told him.
"Oh, come on," he said.
"Really Leslie?" I shot back. "As if I'm the guilty one here?"
"Stop it," he groaned.
"Yeah," I replied, rolling my eyes. "Maybe that's what you should've done too before you pulled that-"
I hadn't managed to finish my sentence when Leslie stepped out of the truck and slammed the door behind him. What a child, always running away from the hard truths and facts. Before I knew it, the door on my side opened and I felt a rough grip yank me by my collar, pulling me outside.
"So it all came down to this huh?" Leslie said, glaring into my eyes.
For a moment I felt like he was going to beat me, knock the breath out of me, break a few ribs. My heart thumped in my chest. Maybe I shouldn't have said what I did. For a brief moment I saw the man who shot my father in the motel.
But to my surprise, he let go of me, exhaling deeply and taking a few steps back. It was dark, but the little light coming from over the horizon as well as the truck's headlights allowed me to see his face. He didn't look so angry anymore. He looked broken.
"Look," he sighed. "I know what I did. And I know I'll never ever make it up to you, and it's probably my fault for pushing this under the rug for so long, but I really don't appreciate what you're doing right now.
"It's my fault, and I get that you're angry at me, and you have all the right to do so. But please don't try and manipulate me like that, I can't take it when you treat me like that I just f-feel like you're taking advantage of me and-"
He stopped in the middle of his sentence, and I was about to raise a mocking eyebrow until I realised he was choking back tears. I immediately felt bad. I had gone too far.
"I-I'm sorry alright! Jason, I'm so, so, sorry," he sobbed, burying his face in his palms. "It's all my fault, and I feel like absolute shit that I took him from you when you've been so nice to me and you treated me in a way no one's ever treated me before. I-I love you but I can't stop thinking that I'm that shithead that caused you and Bells so much pain and it just eats away at me everyday. I'm a monster Jason, I'm a m-"
I took a step towards the young man and pulled him close, our chests taut against each other's. I could feel his tense body relax as he placed his chin on my shoulder, but he was still shaking. I gently ran my hand down his back, trying to soothe my baby boy.
"You're not a monster Leslie," I said, as I held his trembling body in my arms. "The world just treated you like one, and you just got used to it."
Leslie let out a shaky breath as I felt my shirt soaking under his tears.
"And I'm sorry too," I confessed. "For not being entirely honest about my feelings. Yeah, I still get angry about it sometimes, but it wasn't right for me to manipulate you like that. I should've just been more direct and honest with you."
"I'm trying to change," he muttered. "I'm trying to be a better person."
"I know, Leslie," I told him. "I know."
"Even if you forgive me," he said. "I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for putting you through so much pain."
I only kept quiet as I held him close while his tears fell, his sniffling the only sounds to be heard.
"I think we should talk about it," I said to him. "It's hard, but it'll be for the best if we settled this honestly and openly. I think we've avoided it for far too long."
I gently pushed him off me as I took a step back. The young man rubbed his teary eyes with the back of his wrists.
"The sun's coming up," he said. "We'll drive a bit further. The meadow's just ahead."
The sky was glowing just the faintest hint of red, and the both of us got into the truck. Leslie drove for about a few minutes before we arrived at the large meadow.
"Come on," he said, still sniffing, as he reached into the backseat and pulled out a large blanket. "We'll sit in the back. Help me grab the coffee."
Without a word, I took the two flasks and headed to the back, where Leslie had laid the blanket over the truck bed. I climbed up and sat beside him.
"Thanks for the coffee," I said as I took a sip from my flask.
"It's nothing," he replied, tilting his head as he looked at me.
We just sat there for a few minutes in silence, admiring the view. As the darkness slowly retreated, making way for the golden rays of light, I could make out the heads of the pretty blue flowers surrounding us. They seemed to go on forever from each side, with only the road breaking its continuity.
It was then when I felt Leslie scoot up to me, and his arm hung over my shoulder as he pressed himself against me. I honestly didn't mind. Sure, we might have had a rather emotionally draining confrontation but despite that he was still able to pull some smooth moves. I only let out a sigh of relief as I relaxed, looking at the sea of flowers and listening to Leslie breathe.
"You should go take some pictures," he suggested. "It's a really pretty view."
I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Who cares about taking photos," I said as I leaned against his chest. "I want to spend every minute of it with you."
"Well aren't you romantic?" he said as he flashed me a smile.
"Who's idea was it to come here in the first place?" I replied.
The young man couldn't help but blush, his wet cheeks turning rosy. He looked really beautiful in the golden light, and I took it all in: his brown, slightly wavy locks, his blue eyes, reddened from the crying, and his smooth skin, wet from all the tears that made his face shine in the sun's rays. He was a mess, but all that matters that he was mine. I've never met a boy so intriguing and complex, with so many things about him to discover.
As I settled in, wrapping my arm around him, I decided to open up my heart.
"Tell me," I said, pressing my head against his chest. "Why did you do it?"
With my ear pressed against his ribs, I could hear his heart thumping.
"To be honest with you," he said after a while. "I never really thought about that when I pulled the trigger, it was something I did because I just could. And I guess back then... it never really bothered me about the people I kill. I hate myself for feeling this way but a few times before it was... thrilling? But not anymore."
"So you shot my dad without even caring," I muttered mindlessly. "Like he didn't even matter."
Leslie was silent, biting his lip.
"And I was about to shoot you too until Bells showed up," he said. "When I saw her beg, I-I just felt horrible."
"So that's why you didn't finish us off," I remarked, staring out at the meadow.
I was still trying to process what he said. It was hurtful to know that in that moment he didn't even care, but I was glad he was being honest with me.
"I know I can't ever replace your dad," he said as I snuggled up to him. "But you're my responsibility now. I mean, it's the least I could do for you and Bells."
"You're beginning to sound like you're my older brother more than anything else," I said. "But still, that's kinda sweet."
"Well," the young man chuckled. "Do brothers kiss, cuddle and suck each other off?"
"Oh, stop it," I said, playfully smacking him.
There was a brief moment of silence as we lay there, the vast sky above us. The endless canvas has gone from deep purple to red to a bright cloudless blue.
"It feels so much better when we're honest with each other doesn't it?" I said, after taking another sip of coffee. "I'm glad we've managed to talk it out."
"Sure does," he said. "I mean, it's not like it erases what I did, and it's not like I'm justifying it, but I'm glad I could be honest with you."
We were silent for a while, enjoying each other's company. The golden rays of the sun made his scruffy face still sticky with tears shine. I found myself looking into his eyes, those deep, dreamy blue irises of his always seemed to be hiding a storm. The young man brought his large hand to my cheek, caressing me gently.
Reaching down, he closed the distance between our faces, our noses brushing against each other. He held me like this for what felt like forever, my heart thumping in my chest and the only sounds around me that I heard were his hushed breathing. Holding me there, I found myself lost in his touch. After much deliberation, he finally pushed his lips against mine, albeit a little clumsily, tilting his kiss a little to the side such that our lips weren't in sync.
He pulled away after a while, chuckling awkwardly.
"Sorry about that," he said. "I just can't help myself."
"It's okay," I muttered, sitting up. "We should get going."
"What's the rush for?" Leslie said with a laugh. "There's plenty of time."
"Maybe we should get back before Clara notices we're gone," I said to him. "You wouldn't want her to nag at you would you?"
Leslie bit his lip, looking at me with a confused expression as he tilted his head to the side.
"What happened to visiting your dad's grave?" he questioned.
"Oh, about that," I said, nearly stuttering. "I don't think we should, I mean, if it's not comfortable for you. It's not that important anyway, I'm just being silly-"
"But it is important to you," he cut in. "Of course we're going."
"You don't have to force yourself," I told him.
"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "I should go. It's for my own sake too."
"Thanks," I muttered. "That means a lot to me."
"It's okay blondie," he told me, a smile on his lips. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't agree to meet your dad? He needs to know how deeply in love I am with you."
I shot him a confused look, and he must've realised it, because he immediately blushed and averted his gaze.
"S-sorry," he said, the redness in his cheeks still persisting. "Was that inappropriate? I- Ah, forget I ever said that."
But honestly, it was kind of cute. The way he'd blunder occasionally, saying inappropriate things at the worst times just out of how awkward he was deep inside, made me smile.
"I-I'm sorry alright-"
Leaning forward, I cupped his cheeks and pressed my lips against his. He seemed surprised, but soon I noticed his body being less tense. Slowly and savouring every moment of it, I guided his lips with mine. He soon went with the flow as well, running a hand through my hair.
Leslie Carpenter, I just can't get enough of you.