Evan Elemental (The Evan Elemental Series) (19 page)

"Yeah?"
she says rising from her seat, her signature steely resolve back. "Then
what about those bottles I found in your room?"

Guilt
and embarrassment wash over me. How can I explain my moment of weakness when
I've never allowed myself to be weak in front of anyone in my life?

"You
have the wrong idea. Jessie came over a few weeks ago..."

"Christ,
Evan, don't blame this on your friends. Though, God knows they're part of the
problem. If you're not even going to be honest with me, then I'm going to have
to go to Magda."

Visions
of boarding school dance in my head.
I take in a deep breath in an attempt to ease the tension
and frustration building inside of me, but it's no use. Electricity sparks in
the air around me; a dark cloud passes over the sun.

"Evan?"
Real fear fills
Lilan's
voice. I can't answer her.
Instead, I shake my head once and take a step back. For an instant I revel in
the sensation of being swallowed by nothingness and then I'm gone.

Instead
of ending up in Russia, I find myself transported to a far more familiar place.
Sunlight streams in through curtain-less windows catching swirling dust motes
on its way to the bare wood floors. I slowly turn in a circle taking in my
empty childhood home.

I know
that most of the furnishings are in storage, but I can't quite shake the
feeling that the place has been robbed, violated somehow. Through the bay
window in the living room, I can see the front yard and the unassuming
"Sale-pending" sign that
has
taken up
temporary residence there.

I'm so
numb that I don't feel any pain when I fall to my knees. A dry sob rises in my
throat and stays there, no relief for the choking ache it brings. Even in death,
I have failed them. My mask of perfection never fooled them: they knew there
was darkness underneath even if they didn't know the extent.

The
grief that floods me is infinite and complete. No matter how many times someone
tries to convince me that they're looking down from some invisible heaven and
that they'll always be proud of me no matter what, I'll never believe that they
aren't lost forever.
Dust and dirt in two matching boxes.
They'll never know who I become, they'll only know the disappointment I brought
them.

The
kind of cold that you only find in empty houses radiate up through the floor
and into my bones. I feel like I'm on a precipice: I can let this loss dictate
my actions and ultimately define me, or I can grieve and be done with it. I'll
always love and remember them, but if I want to move forward I need to let them
go.

I
choose the latter, slowly rising from the floor. I feel weaker, physically and
emotionally, than I've ever felt before, but I manage to make my body move. I
take one last look around my old home, walking the paths to each room with a
new awareness. As I do, I say my silent goodbyes and allow myself to feel every
singular moment of finality. This is no longer my home; this is no longer my
life.

I had
thought that this was something I already accepted months ago, standing in my
old bedroom, dressed in my old clothes, but I've been carrying it with me like
a black cloud on a string. There's only so long you can stay numb, only so long
you can swallow the ache of grief. The only cure is to feel it all.

I
expect the rooms to feel desolate, haunted, but they don't feel any different,
just empty. The floors groan softly under my feet as I wander. Whatever last
piece of them I'm hoping to feel isn't here. There are no ghosts; they're
really gone.

I don't
linger long. When I shut the heavy oak door behind me, I feel a twinge of
relief. Finally, I'm giving myself permission to let go. I hadn't even realized
how tightly I've been holding on.

The
wind brushes softly over my skin in slow, warm strokes. My feet lead the way
down the quiet street lined with neat lawns, each a prelude to the uniform
houses that speak of luxury and accomplishment. It's the neighborhood my
parents chose out of practicality, one I never quite felt at home in. Not that
I feel more at home in a spotless, ageless, mansion. Rather, I feel at ease
with the wild, unchecked energy that hums just below the surface everywhere in
Price.

Even if
the locals don't notice it, even if they're so used to it that they're numb to
its presence, it's there. Just as it's there in the air and the earth, it's in
me. Miles away I can still feel it, my connection to that place not at all
weakened by the distance. Price is the epicenter of everything and nothing. I
close my eyes and see the pulsing, warm light radiating off a purple rock
submerged in a black lake. A shudder ripples through me.

I slow
as I near the destination that my subconscious has chosen. Tall black iron
gates rise before me, wide open and waiting. Forest Garden Cemetery proper sits
far back in the woods at the end of a long paved drive, making it seem more
like a gated community than a graveyard.

I'd
like to say that an unearthly silence descends on me when I pass through the
gates, but that doesn't happen. In fact, it feels no different on one side than
it does on the other.

The
path isn't as long as I want it to be, because soon the trees begin to thin out
and polished headstones begin to dot the landscape. Whatever clouds
were
still lingering dissipate completely leaving only a
milky blue sky and warm sunlight.

I step
carefully among the headstones, trying not to read the names and dates as I pass.
When I reach the plot that my parents share I'm not surprised to find
Lex
casually standing nearby, waiting for me.

"How
did you know?" I ask as I kneel in the grass in front of their shared
headstone.

"When
the wind speaks Evan, I listen."
Lex
drops to
his knees beside me.

We
don't say anything else for a long time. I take in the etched face of the
stone: the carefully chosen words, the dates too close together, but I feel
little. They aren't here, that much I can tell, and I take comfort in the fact.
With all that I've felt and experienced in the last few months, I'm hopeful
that their souls, or whatever, have really gone on to someplace better; heaven
or Valhalla, it doesn't matter what the name is, so long as they're safe and
maybe happy even if I'm not with them.

"I
don't know how I ended up here," I say quietly, looking at
Lex
. "One second I'm arguing with my Aunt, the next
second I'm standing in the living room in the house where I grew up."

"I'm
assuming no hallucinogens were involved this time?" Lex's tone is playful
but I can see the seriousness in his face.

"No,
not this time," I answer softly.

Lex
puts his arm around my
shoulders and gently pulls me toward him. "I've been looking into it, and
I'm afraid I don't have any clear answers..."

"I
know," I say pulling out of his embrace and standing up, "and that's
okay. It's not your job to figure this out. It's mine."

Lex
rises slowly from the ground
and turns to me. There's pain and confusion in his eyes. "Evan
..
."

I shake
my head and look away from him. "
Lex
. We need to
talk."

Lex
takes my hand. I let him lead
me back through the headstones and down the paved drive. Once we're out of the
cemetery we find a nearby bench and sit down. Dark clouds roll through the sky
once again and blot out the sun. I shiver, but
Lex
smiles.

"I
take it
it's
bad news," he says evenly.

"What
do you mean?"

Lex
raises his eyebrows slightly.
"You're not good at playing stupid, Evan. Clearly you have something to
say and I'm not going to like it. It's written all over your beautiful
face."

I press
my lips together, embarrassed. I've always been good at keeping true feelings
hidden; now they're apparently on display for anyone paying attention.

I shake
my head. "Not exactly bad news, no, but it's still difficult for me to
say."

I turn
so that I'm facing him fully. His expression is placid, but I can see the
subtly growing darkness in his already dark eyes, his own, less obvious,
giveaway.

"You
must know how I feel about you," I say my voice full of pleading.

The
darkness in his eyes lightens minutely and he smiles.
Lex
clears his throat and looks away. "I do recall a spontaneous hotel room
confession."

I can't
help but laugh, remembering. I've been dreading the moment when we would have
to discuss what happened, but it doesn't feel as cringe-worthy as I imagined.
The truth is, in such a short amount of time,
Lex
and
I have connected on a level so deep I couldn't make sense of it if I tried, so
I don't. Instead, I feel it with every inch of my being.

"I
meant what I said, even if I don't know why I feel it. And that's why I need to
do this." My words break and I tremble almost violently.

Lex
looks back at me and nods as if
encouraging me to go on, as if he knows what I'm about to say and he wants me
to say it. I can tell that he wants to touch me, to comfort me, but he balls
hands in fists in his lap and stops himself. I'm thankful, because if he
touched me it would only make it that much harder.

"I
think we need to take a break. I know we're not, like, officially dating or
anything, but whatever is going on between us...I need to put the brakes on.
There's so much I don't know and so much I need figure out, I can't afford any
distractions. I feel like I have some greater responsibility and I owe it to
myself to figure out what that is."

The
words spill out of me, leaving me breathless. I'm terrified that I've ruined
whatever chance I have with
Lex
, but I know in my
heart that this is the right thing to do. For too long, I've been consumed by
an unidentifiable misery, but the second I opened that box and saw the necklace
my mother left me, I began to feel the melancholy start to ebb, slowly, but
distinctly.

Even
so, I've been letting my old bad habits and selfish behavior seep through,
making me act irrationally. Luckily,
Lex
is the kind
of guy that would give me his shirt and insist I go to sleep instead of taking
advantage of me when I'm drunk and almost naked. But I've become too reliant on
him always being there, even when he's thousands of miles away. If I know he
was always going to take care of me, fix my problems, find my answers, I'll
never fully realize my potential, never fully fulfill my responsibilities,
whatever they are.

I don't
realize how badly I'm still trembling until
Lex
gently takes my hands, stilling them. Our eyes meet and all of my doubts fall
away. His expression is full of love and something else: respect. My heart
almost bursts with happiness, but I suppress the feeling.

"Evan,"
Lex
says finally causing my body to tense and my
heart to skip a beat, "I couldn't agree more."

"What?"
I can't contain the surprise in my voice. Have I misread everything that's been
happening between us? I had expected him to argue with me, at least a little. I
have to press my lips together to keep from retracting everything I just said;
my previous certainty has already thinned considerably.

"Look
at me," he whispers resting his hand softly on my face, turning my head so
that I have no choice but to look into his eyes. Shame pools in my stomach as I
feel the tears begin to fall.

"No,
no, none of that."
Lex
kisses my face, his lips
brushing away each tear. "I can't promise to tear myself away from you
completely, but I give you my vow that I will stand by you and help you without
interfering, without distracting you. We both have a responsibility to see this
through, and I can tell you with certainty that there is something to see
through."

His
hand drops to his lap, leaving a cold spot on my cheek where it had been. His
words cut through the haze of grief that was slowly descending on me as the
realization of what I've done settled over me. Suddenly, that's no longer
important.

"What
are you saying?
Lex
, please?
You have to tell me what's going on, if you
know," I plead a new determination in my voice.

"Evan,"
Lex
pleads, his face and body tense, his frustration
apparent, "I wish it were that easy..."

"It's
not?" I demand, cutting him off. "I should hope that, at least from
you, I could get some straight answers. Even when no one is speaking, I feel
like I'm being lied to. Tell me I'm not crazy."

Lex
shakes his head and lets out a
low, frustrated growl. "No, you're not crazy. And I want more than
anything to tell you everything you want to, need to, know. But there are
rules, laws, that prevent me from speaking about certain things."

Lex
stands suddenly and begins to
rake his hand through his hair as he paces back and forth. It's the first time
I've seen his cool demeanor disappear completely and it takes a lot of
self-control not to pull him into my arms and offer him comfort. Instead, I
stay put and work to keep the anxiety out of my voice when I speak. "What
can you tell me then? There must be something."

Lex
stops pacing and fixes his gaze
on some invisible point on the horizon. I'm beginning to think he's really not
going to say anything at all, when he finally speaks.

"What
I can tell you, is that I will never lie to you," he says in a firm and
unyielding voice.

I
barely blink and suddenly he's on his knees at my feet. His hands clutch mine as
his dark eyes search my face. His own face is awash with honesty and
vulnerability. The undeniable connection that we have flows freely between us.
I'm about to say screw it and beg him to run away with me and leave this whole
mess behind, when the sound of a cell phone vibrating cuts into the moment and
shatters the intensity between us.