“He’s not?”
“Like you didn’t already know. He blows off everything for you. His friends. His job. You’re a fucking soul sucker, you know that?”
A soul sucker.
Maybe…
“Where is he?” I asked, not bothering to respond to Margie’s character assessment.
“Why don’t you tell me? George would like to know. Elian never called in. He never goes MIA like this. What did you do to him?” she accused. Spite and ire.
What did I do to him?
What did he do to me?
I looked around at the guitars on the wall, easily picking out those made by Elian’s careful hand.
“Okay. Thank you,” I said, ever polite.
“Fuck off,” Margie responded.
He was avoiding me. He was avoiding everything. I hadn’t expected any of this.
I needed to find him.
To talk to him.
I drove out to Half Moon Quarry. The sky was overcast and looked like rain. I could smell the incoming weather, the moisture clinging to my skin.
The quarry was silent. No birds or animals in sight. The water was calm, unmoving. Not a ripple on the surface to indicate anything lived in those cool, deceptive depths.
I climbed the stairs and knocked on the door.
Not a sound came from within.
I could see Elian’s car parked in its usual spot. I turned and looked back toward the beach, scanning. Scanning.
I knocked again. He could be asleep.
Without waiting, I pushed the door open and went inside.
Cluttered and dusty, Elian had been neglecting his housekeeping duties.
“Elian!” I called out.
Silence.
Solitude.
I felt cold inside.
I moved from room to room and couldn’t find him. Climbing the creaking steps I peered into the darkened bedroom and found the bed, unmade. It was hard to tell whether he had slept in it recently. The tubs holding his clothes were overturned. Shirts and pants in haphazard piles.
“Elian,” I murmured knowing he wouldn’t hear me.
I walked into the bathroom, noting a brown bottle upended in the sink, stray pills sticking to the enamel. I picked it up and saw Elian’s name.
Risperdal.
I stared hard.
I had no idea.
How could I not have known?
How had this important piece of information slipped by me?
I dropped the empty bottle back in the sink. It made a loud clatter, and I closed the door as I left the bathroom.
Leaving the house, I looked again along the bank of the quarry.
He was here.
Somewhere.
There…
Sitting on the edge of the water, his head bowed low.
Alone.
Alone.
I walked towards him. Unsure. So unsure.
Elian was suddenly unpredictable.
“Elian,” I said, just loud enough for him to hear me.
He didn’t respond. He didn’t lift his head. The cigarette smoked lazily between his fingers.
The silent, silent waters calm and steady.
The slight breeze ruffling leaves already fallen to their deaths on the ground.
I sat down beside him, pebbles biting through fabric. Embedding into skin.
“I can’t look at you,” Elian said, his voice rough and bleeding.
“Then don’t.”
“I don’t want to hear your voice.”
“Then I won’t speak.”
Elian covered his face with his hands, a low keening sound muffled by his palms.
“I hate you.”
Sharp, hurtful words. Mutilated. Wrecked.
What could I say?
“I love you,” he continued. Barely hearing him, his begrudging sentiment lost in his fingers.
I didn’t speak. I had told him that I wouldn’t.
Elian dropped his hands. The quarry had all of his attention. Those tranquil, untouched waters gave him something he needed.
“I love you,” he repeated as though daring me to say it back.
“I love you, Lay. My perfect star. My little girl. I love you more than any other thing.”
I wouldn’t say it back.
I couldn’t.
Love was poison. It killed you slowly.
It ripped Elian a part.
“But I can’t look in your eyes and see anything but the monster.” Damaged. Over.
Never.
“I don’t want to be the monster, Elian.” I promised, I swore.
Declarations that were so very true.