Faster We Burn

chapter Twenty-one

Stryker

We all made it through the open house and then it was time for everyone to get back to school, and it was time for me to go with them.

“So, I’m going to drive Trish back,” I said as Katie tossed what was left of the food.

“What?” She looked at me as if I’d just announced I was going to the moon.

“Yeah, I really need to get back to school and…everything.” It was the lamest of lame excuses. This morning I’d packed up my stuff and loaded up my car with it while she’d been in the shower. Like a f*cking coward.

She stared for another second and then shook her head.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. You have to get back to your life.”

There was another moment of silence, and it was awkward. After we’d become so close, this seemed very anti-climactic.

“Thank you,” she said, tossing something that looked like leftover baby food into the trash can, “for everything. I’ll never be able to say it enough, but I don’t know what I would have done without you.” She set the dish down and gave me a hug.

I tried not to hold her too tight, or pull her too close. She’d been hugged enough today, and if I were her, I wouldn’t want another one.

That didn’t stop me from leaning down and smelling her hair and letting myself surround her for just a second.

“See you around?” I should win an award for the most moronic goodbye ever spoken.

“Um, yeah. I guess.”

“Let me know if you need anything. Anytime.”

I let her go and stepped away. She looked like she was going to cry again, so I handed her another handkerchief.

“Thanks, Stryker.”

I turned my back and walked away.



***



“You are the dumbest brother ever. Seriously,” Trish said as I got in the car. “You are seriously going to leave her now?”

“I don’t belong there anymore. I shouldn’t really have been there that long. Her mother was going to say something eventually and I didn’t want her to have to go through that again.”

“You’re still a dumbass.” She moved the seat back so she could have room for her legs.

“What am I supposed to do, Trish?” She could criticize all she wanted, but I’d like to see her do better.

“Well, first I wouldn’t abandon her in her time of need. Second, I would have told her that I loved her.”

We were back to that again.

“I don’t love her, Trish.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes before taking her hair out of the careful bun she’d put it in, to look respectful, I supposed. She hadn’t taken out her violet contacts, and she’d worn her black boots, so those sort of negated her effort, but it was a nice try.

“Yeah, you do.”

“Look Trish, I’m exhausted and I really, really need a cigarette, so could you just lay off?”

Normally she would have made a snarky comment and just ignored me until she had her say, but I must have looked bad enough for her to back down.

“Fine, fine.”

I turned on the radio as loud as it would go and loosened my tie.

“Here,” she said, fishing in my glove box for my emergency smokes. She held one out to me and put it in my mouth before lighting it.

“Thanks.”

“You should really quit, you know.”

Every now and then Trish nagged me to quit, but then she still smoked, so it was a bit of a pot and kettle situation.

“I will if you will.” We’d tried that before too. Turned out willpower was not one of our genetic gifts.

“Deal.” She held out her hand and we shook on it. “But let me have one last one.”

So we each smoked one last cigarette in silence as I drove us back to school.



***



I texted Katie when we got back, just so she’d know we arrived alive. Trish saw me doing it, but made no comment other than raising her eyebrow and giving me a look.

I dropped her back at her apartment and went back to mine. The place felt too big and too silent. Just the sound of my own breathing was loud. I turned on some music, not caring what it was as long as the sound filled up the empty rooms. “Holding on and Letting Go”, by Ross Copperman came through the speakers and I almost turned it off, but that would be admitting the song bothered me because it made me think of Katie. I wasn’t going to give the song that satisfaction.

My phone rang and I knew without looking at it who it would be.

“Hey,” she said, and her voice was thick with tears.

“Hey.”

“I miss you. Mom’s back to being a sobbing mess and Kayla’s trying to get her to eat and my family is smothering me and I just wish you were here. Or I wish I was there. Either way, I wish we were together.”

So did I.

“I’m sorry I left, but I didn’t want to start anything with your mom.”

“I know why you left, but I wish you didn’t have to. Things have gotten so…complicated.” She laughed a little, but it wasn’t really funny. “I think I’m still in denial.”

“Hey, I’m not judging.”

“I know.”

“I’m quitting smoking,” I said, just for something to say that didn’t involve death.

“Really? Have you ever tried before?”

“Trish and I try every now and then, but it never sticks.”

“Well, if you need, like, a sponsor or something, I would be happy to fill that role. You know, help you with the pledge.”

“The pledge?”

“I accept the things and I can’t change and…I know there’s something about the wisdom to know the difference…” I almost laughed.

“That’s for Alcoholics Anonymous.”

“Does it really matter?”

“I guess not,” I said as the song switched to “Rose Tattoo”, by Dropkick Murphys.

“Could you play for me?” she said, as if she was asking to borrow a kidney.

“What do you want to hear?”

“Anything.”

I turned off Dropkick, put the phone on speaker and picked up my guitar, sifting through my mental jukebox. I wanted something that would make her laugh. Something unexpected. I smiled and started “Lovefool”, by The Cardigans. I’d found it through a random internet search once and thought it was catchy.

It took a minute for her to figure out what it was, but I heard her laugh for the first time in way too long. A surprised laugh that she couldn’t suppress.

I exaggerated the cuteness of the lyrics, hoping to make her laugh more. It worked.

She was still giggling when I finished.

“That was so random, but so perfect. I heard that one in a movie once and I always liked it.” Her laughter died down and I picked the phone up again.

“I thought you’d like that.”

She paused and I could hear her thinking.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t feel like shit about laughing, but I do.”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t. Maybe I’m not the only one who needs to learn the Serenity Prayer. You have to start accepting that you can’t change things, and you can’t take the blame for everything.”

“I know, I know.”

“So stop it,” I said. “Just stop.” My voice was sharp, but she needed to hear it. Everyone else would treat her delicately, but she wasn’t. She was tough and she needed someone to call her out on it.

“Are you being a dick again?”

“No, I’m just…I don’t want you to turn into this sad girl who stops living her life because she’s afraid of everything. You’re the girl who kissed me because you wanted to see what it was like to make out with a guy who had a lip ring. You’re the girl who faced her ex, and the girl who fought her mom for me. I can’t lose that girl.”

“That girl had a dad. I don’t know who I am anymore. That girl is gone and she’s not coming back.” I knew what she was saying was right, but I didn’t want it to be right.

“I just…I have to figure things out now. But I don’t want to figure them out alone. I want you to be there.” I didn’t say anything, because I was waiting for more.

“Not like how we first were. Just friends. No sex. I can’t deal with all that right now, but I’d like it if we could be friends. Do you think we could do that?”

No, we definitely couldn’t go back to being friends, not after everything. At least, I didn’t think I could. But, if it was being friends or not having her in my life, I’d take the agony of trying to be her friend.

“I think we can be friends.” She let out a breath I felt like she’d been holding for as long as she’d been talking to me.

“Good. I’d really like to be your friend.”

“I’ll try not to be a dick.”

“You can be a dick sometimes. Especially when I need it.” This was probably the absolute worst time, but I couldn’t go forward without telling her about Ric. Dick move, coming right up.

“Listen—”

She cut me off.

“I know that it’s going to be hard to go back. I mean, we started off in the wrong direction to be friends, but I would really like to try, but only if you want to. I don’t want you to feel obligated. You’ve already done so much for me.”

Shit. As quick as I’d gotten up the nerve to do it, that nerve had deserted me and it wasn’t coming back anytime soon.

“No, I want to be friends. Just friends.”

“Just friends.”

She told me she’d be coming back soon, that Kayla was going to stay with her mom for a while and Adam was going back to Africa. It wasn’t the best solution, but at least she could come back to school and start figuring out who she was now.

“So I guess I’ll see you soon, friend.”

“Goodnight, friend,” I said. “To be continued.”

“Dot, dot, dot,” she said and hung up.



Katie



There wasn’t much more I could do at home, and I was starting to go crazy. Everywhere, there were reminders of Dad. Pictures and tools and socks and even a basket of his laundry. Mom had cleaned most of it, but I still found things here and there. Behind the dryer, and in the dishwasher and on the shelves and randomly in my room.

He was everywhere and nowhere.

Kayla had her hands full with Mom, who went from a busy bee who wouldn’t stop moving to a sobbing mess who couldn’t do anything. I’d tried helping her, but I just didn’t have the knack for it. I wanted to tell her to stop crying because it made me uncomfortable. I wanted to tell her that she had to get her shit together because I was worried about her and I didn’t want to go to school without knowing that she was going to be able to make it through the day.

I did grab one of his flannel shirts and shove it in my bag when Mom and Kayla weren’t looking. I had plenty of pictures and videos and so forth of my dad, but I wanted something that still had his smell. I also found a few pictures of the two of us and a few other little keepsakes that Mom wouldn’t miss.

I still couldn’t believe he was dead. I’d said it thousands of times, thinking that if I said it enough, I’d start believing it. Even the service hadn’t done it. Even seeing the urn with his ashes in it hadn’t done it. I’d taken some of those, too, when everyone had been in bed. They were double Ziploc-bagged at the bottom of my backpack. I was now the creepy girl who stole her dad’s ashes. I had no idea what I was going to do with them.

Mom had a million different ideas, but she never stuck with one of them long enough. First it was the beach, then it was the mountains, and then it was at his childhood home, and then it was a little bit in a bunch of places. Her latest scheme was some sort of road trip where we dropped little bits in places that meant something to him. It sounded like something she’d heard in a movie. Some sort of weird bonding experience where we’d all learn something and come out better in the end and ride off into a hopeful sunset in a blue convertible. Too bad life was never like that.

Mom had barely mentioned Stryker other than to say, “That tattooed boy gone now?” I just nodded and let it go. She didn’t ask about him again, and I didn’t volunteer anything.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” I said to Kayla the Wednesday following the funeral. I had used up all my “dead dad” freebie days from classes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll see you on Saturday, right?” I’d planned to come home on the weekends until further notice to give Kayla a break from Mom duty. Not that I’d be much help.

I saw her checking her phone for the millionth time, even though Adam had already landed in Africa and wouldn’t have service again.

“It sucks that he had to go back.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got to learn how to deal with stuff like this.” She said it, but I could tell she didn’t mean it. Since they’d met, they’d barely spent any time apart, and you could see that it was like part of her was missing. Kayla had dated before, but I’d never seen her like this. My normally organized (the apple didn’t fall far from the tree) sister was scatterbrained and careless. Some of it had to do with losing Dad and some of it had to do with the fact that part of her heart was thousands of miles away.

“I’m not the kind of girl who can’t function without a man. I’m not,” she said, taking one of the clean dishes and going to the freezer and putting it in.

“Um, Kay?”

“What?”

“I think that belongs in the cabinet.”

She opened the freezer, took the now-chilled plate out and put it in the cabinet with a clatter.

“You didn’t see that,” she said, grabbing another dish.

“See what?”

“Exactly.”



***



“Mom?” She’d gone back to bed after having a crying fit over finding some of Dad’s tools in the garage. “I’m leaving.”

The room was dark. Kayla had tacked up pieces of fabric over the windows for her. It was a bit like walking into a cave.

She rolled over slowly, barely opening her swollen eyes. Whereas I couldn’t cry, she seemed to breaking the world record for most tears shed. If only we could make a trade. I’d be happy to be the sobbing wreck if it meant she could hold it together better.

“Okay.” She didn’t seem to want to move, so I pulled the covers down and got in with her, shoes and all. It was a testament to how upset she was that she didn’t scold me.

I lay my head on the pillow next to hers.

“Are you going to be okay here?” It was a stupid question, but I had to ask it anyway.

“No.” Her face collapsed and she started sobbing again. I grabbed one of the many tissue boxes Kayla and I had stashed all over the house.

“Why did this happen? Why did this happen to us?” I handed her a tissue and put my arm around her.

“I don’t know. I wish I had a book full of things that I am supposed to say and do, but there isn’t one. If we spend all our time wondering why, then we’ll waste our lives, and Dad wouldn’t want that.” I didn’t know who I was channeling, but it all sounded good, so I went with it. “Dad wouldn’t want you to be sad forever. He was always trying to make you laugh.” Even when it ended up just making her madder. Eventually they would stop fighting and she’d crack a smile.

She blew her nose and threw the tissue on the floor. Dear God, she really was in a state.

“You sure it’s okay for me to go back? I could stay with you and Kayla for the rest of the week.”

She shook her head and wiped her eyes with her hands.

“No, you have to get back to school. Just because I’ve fallen apart, doesn’t mean you have to.”

“You haven’t fallen apart, Mom.”

“Yeah, Katiebug, I have.”

“Well, you had a good reason to,” I said, using another tissue to wipe her eyes. “You can fall apart all you want. I won’t tell.”

“Thanks, baby.” She hadn’t called me that in ages.

I gave her another hug and we lay there for a little longer. We hadn’t always gotten along, but that was going to have to change. She was the only parent I had left, and like it or not, she needed me and I needed her back.

Trish had driven my car down for the funeral, so I was able to drive my own car back. I said goodbye to Kayla and promised to see her on Saturday and started the drive back to DU.

I couldn’t find a good radio station, so I picked up my phone and put it on speaker, setting it in a little clip on my dashboard. I should have one of those headsets, but I thought they made people look like a*sholes, so I’d never gotten one.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, I’m driving back and I just thought I would check in with my friend. How are you, friend?”

He sounded like he was in a room full of people.

“I’m good, friend. How are you?” The voices faded, as if he was walking away from them.

“You’re not in class, are you?”

“No, I was just getting something to eat.”

“When’s your next class?”

“Not for a while. I’m all yours, friend.”

“Well that is good to hear, friend.”

He went on to tell me about all the things that I’d missed on campus, from someone getting thrown out for setting a couch on fire, to the frat that was on probation, to the professor who’d gotten caught smoking pot on campus with a few students.

It was all silly and mundane and distracting enough that I could get out of my own head for a few minutes. It was a blessed relief.

He also filled me in on the crew. Lottie was dying to have me back and had stocked up on ice cream in preparation for lots of Law and Order marathons.

Trish had almost gotten fired from her job for mouthing off to her boss, Will and Audrey had finally kissed in public and Simon was trying to convince everyone to participate in some sort of charity event that involved running around campus in your underwear.

“I’m not freezing my junk off, even if it is for charity,” he said as I pictured his junk. It was pretty nice junk, and I wouldn’t like it if anything happened to it, even if I wasn’t going to be using it anytime soon.

It was all well and good to call ourselves friends over the phone, but in person, I had no idea how it was going to go.

“How’s your mom?”

“I guess she’s as good as can be expected. She goes from sobbing to cleaning like the Queen is coming over, then back to sobbing. I’m going back this weekend so Kayla can have a break.”

“Do you feel guilty?” Stryker always had a way of asking the questions I didn’t want to answer.

“Yeah. How can I not?”

I waited for him to tell me that I shouldn’t, but he sighed.

“You’re right.”

“Wait, what was that?”

He laughed.

“I said that you’re right. A little guilt is okay. It’s the big, soul-crushing guilt I’m worried about.”

“Well, I’m doing okay so far.” If being okay meant having a baggie with my Dad’s ashes and not being able to believe he was really gone. I hadn’t told Stryker about the first thing.

“Listen, I really want to thank you for everything you’ve done. I know I can never make it up to you, but I owe you at least a few more Thanksgiving dinners.” I’d hoped he would laugh, but he didn’t.

“You don’t owe me anything, Katie. Anyone else would have done the same thing. It’s not like I rode in on a white horse.”

“Horses scare me, and no, not everyone would have done the same thing and you know it. Give yourself some credit, Stryker Abraham Grant.”

“God, I hate that you know my middle name. It’s been the bane of my existence for years.”

“It’s a perfectly fine middle name. It’s a presidential name, and you’re trying to change the subject.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Look, we don’t have to talk about it. I just want you to know.”

He sighed again and I could picture him running his hand through his hair.

“Got it.”

We talked for a little while longer and I felt like I was taking up too much of his time, being too needy and clingy (again), so I told him I had to stop and get gas.

“See you soon, friend.”

“Drive safe, friend.”