One Voice 02 - Here Without You (15 page)

Mr. Minton shouted at the truck as it backed out of the driveway, “The boys are concerned, and they want to talk to you!” Either Nate didn’t hear, or he pretended he didn’t hear.

Mrs. Minton is gonna stop by the gas station tomorrow to see if she can get him to talk.

I’m relieved to know Nate’s okay, but I’m crushed to know that he has no interest in talking to us. And Casey is acting really weird with me. It reminds me of that very distant way he acted in high school after those bitchy girls screwed with him. He’s here with me, but he isn’t really present. He’s being polite to me, but he’s not being
himself
. I’d bet my life that he blames this whole thing on me. If I’d let Nate leave on Monday like he was supposed to, none of this would have happened.

Gotta study. Hope I can keep my mind on ethics. At least I’ll see Anna and Claire in class. I’m not usually one to tell the world about my problems, but I’ve confided in these girls, and I’m glad I did. They’re helping to keep me sane.

I’m out.

Zander

C
ASEY
’
S
REAL
LIFE

O
N
S
UNDAY
night, when Zander and I left the One Voice meeting and walked back toward our dorm, I finally let myself cry. That’s the understatement of the century. Nate would have said I freaked out in a major way, but Nate wasn’t around. Good thing Zander was ready for it, so he reacted to my tears and my ranting and raving with something close to grace.

As we made our way through the chilly courtyard, Zander reached for my hand. To warm me, to connect us, to let me know he was there for me—it didn’t much matter why. I was mad and I was hurting and I was not going to let Zander think that I didn’t blame him for blowing everything in this relationship sky high.

I snatched my hand out of his. “Don’t touch me.” I was actually shocked at the caustic sound of my voice. I couldn’t remember ever behaving that way before—ever
feeling
that way before.

“Wha-what?” Zander was also shaken by my vehemence.

“I don’t want you to touch me.” I didn’t think. I just spoke.

Zander stopped. “Why? Why, Casey?”

I shook my head. “Without him, I’m not complete.
We’re
not complete.” My eyes filled, and I didn’t bother trying to control my tears. I couldn’t stop them if I wanted to. “It hurts too much and….”

His hands dropped to his sides, but his fingers twitched, as if with an unmet need to touch me. His mouth fell open, but he didn’t speak.

“Why did you have to send him on such a major guilt trip about going back home and missing your precious One Voice rally? You know he has a responsibility to Cindy!”

Zander didn’t reply.

“We just needed to be patient with him while he worked out where Cindy could live. You just couldn’t wait, could you?”

Now his eyes were wet, and I’d never seen him look so dejected. “No… I guess I couldn’t wait.”

I was hurt and angry, and now I was starting to feel guilty for blaming Zander for a situation that he truly did not create.

“It’s all my fault, Casey… and maybe if you go to see Nate without me, he’ll take you back. I’m the one who messed this thing up.”

A few more agonizing seconds passed before I accepted that it was the situation I was upset with, not Zander. “Listen, Zander, I’m sorry.” My regret, though not immediate, was intense. “I know it’s not your fault.” He needed to know my feelings of aversion to his touch were truly not just because I blamed him. My emotions were far more complicated than that. “It’s just, Zander, since I healed, you know,
emotionally
, from what happened to me junior year, you’ve
both
been part of my life. Part of me. I just don’t know how to
do this
without him.”

“
Do this
?” He looked so confused.

“I don’t know how to be a complete person without both of you.” That was the only way to explain it. I wiped the tears off my cheeks, but more soon replaced them.

Thankfully, Zander nodded. “I get it.”

“I am afraid to lean on you. On
just
you, that is… but I’m not angry at you. I’m more angry with
me
, in truth.”

“Why are you angry with yourself?”

“I didn’t stand up and say ‘It’s time for this to end’ when it came to the abuse. I knew….” I was starting to sob a bit. “I knew that it was gonna end with something bad, and I didn’t do the right thing because I thought we might… I thought we might
lose him
.”

Zander stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I needed those arms and his strength as well. I didn’t fight his touch. I just cried.

“Casey, maybe this isn’t anybody’s fault but Rich DeMarco’s.”

“But I should’ve said something and—”

“You weren’t responsible, Casey. If anyone is, it’s me.” He squeezed me harder.

“No, you’re not, Zander.
No
.” I lifted my arms to hold on to his shoulders. “We need to stick together. Don’t we.
Don’t we
?”

Zander let out a sob and whispered in my ear, through his own tears, “Yeah, Casey. We need to stick together so that we can get through to Nate.”

“So we can be a… a throuple… again.”

Zander made an effort to smile at me, and I appreciated it. I needed to see a smile from someone I loved.

We stood in the brisk October night, hanging on to each other tightly until our fingers and noses and toes were frozen.

[email protected]

Hey, Dan.

It’s been a freaking week since we talked to Nate. A week. And no, I’m not blaming myself for the shit hitting the fan like I did last week. At first, Casey blamed me too, but we’ve talked and agreed that mostly Nate’s uncle was to blame. I appreciate you reminding me, in your last e-mail, that
I
didn’t do this to Cindy. It really helped, and I really needed to hear it. But like I said, I also know I’m not totally free of blame. Casey and I shouldn’t have just stood by and watched for almost two years while Nate got the shit kicked outta him on a regular basis. And we should have done something about Rich’s constant threats toward Cindy.

So we have a plan, dude. If we don’t talk to Nate this week, we’re gonna go home for the weekend and barge in on him at his house. Think that’s a good idea? I remember back when Casey refused to see us junior year after he was assaulted, and we barged in on him with his mother’s permission. It worked—we got through to him. So maybe it’ll work with Nate too.

Sounds like things are going great with you and Abby, though. You two are so solid. I can’t help but be a bit jealous about that, but not jealous in a negative sense. Just jealous in a wish-it-was-us way.

I’ve got my hopes up that you’ll bring Abby home for Thanksgiving this year. I know it’s not an awesome celebration here or anything—there’s just Ma, sometimes a stray aunt or cousin, and Ma’s latest squeeze—but you’ve been to Abby’s house for the past two Turkey Days, dude. This year I could sure use some brotherly love and sort-of-sisterly advice.

I’m going frigging crazy with worry and missing him.

I’m out.

Z

16

C
ASEY
’
S
REAL
LIFE

I
F
N
ATE
had any interest in saying anything to me, he would say I was “freakin’ out to the max” as we drove to his house on Friday night. He clearly didn’t want to see or speak to us, but we were tracking him down, in the hope that he just needed a little push to open up.

Zander was driving Mom’s Volvo. I was, it seemed, the perpetual passenger in life. I never had a strong urge to get behind the wheel, although I did have my license. But that night I couldn’t have driven if I’d wanted to. I was literally trembling in fear of this pending confrontation.

“Nobody’s home.” We pulled into the dirt driveway and saw that Nate’s truck wasn’t there.

“Let’s just knock on the door, Zander. Maybe his truck is being serviced.” We both knew Nate serviced his own truck, but to humor me, Zander parked and got out. I did the same.

“Careful on the steps, dude.” Zander was always looking out for me. He locked his hand on my elbow to support me.

“These stairs need to be fixed. They’re totally hazardous.” I wasn’t sure why I said that. I just needed to say something.

Once I got to the top of the crumbling steps, I knocked a few times. Zander leaned past me, pressed his hands against the window beside the door, and looked inside the house. No one answered, which was what I expected, but Zander didn’t step back. “Hey, Casey, check it out inside.” He pushed me in front of him. “In the corner.”

“Are those signs? Like maybe real estate signs?” No sooner had the words left my lips than my mind started scrambling for answers. “Why are there real estate signs—house-for-rent signs—in there, Zander?”

“And look. None of their junk is in there. See? None of Nate’s games are on the shelf. And none of Cindy’s magazines. And not even any ashtrays or beer cans everywhere like usual.”

I nodded. The place was cleaner than I’d ever seen it and very bare. “What do you think?”

Zander placed his hand on my elbow again. “I think….” He stopped speaking and took a deep breath, then escorted me down the stairs. “I don’t think Nate’s living here anymore.”

The earth seemed to move beneath my feet. “What are you talking about?”

We both turned to stare at the apparently unoccupied house. “Casey, it’s after his work hours. His truck isn’t here. His stuff isn’t here. The place is clean. There are for-rent signs leaning in the corner of the living room. Add it up.” He wasn’t being sarcastic. He was just forcing me to look at the facts.

“I want to go home.” I suddenly had an overwhelming desire to pull the covers over my head in my rainbow-colored childhood bedroom. “Take me home.”

A
FTER
BREAKFAST
the next morning, Mom, Dad, Zander, and I sat around the kitchen table sipping cups of herbal tea as the girls played Uno on the floor beside us. I knew my parents worried that I would fall into another depression. When I came home the night before and went straight to my room without a word to anyone, they were probably extremely concerned. But Zander slept beside me in my bed and held me as I tossed and turned. He woke me in the morning, despite my pleas to leave me be so I could sleep all day. That morning, sitting with my parents and one of my boyfriends, I knew I had done the right thing by getting up and out of the bedroom. I couldn’t help Nate by lying alone in bed with my tail between my legs.

“Why don’t you boys stop by the gas station today?” my mother suggested brightly. “Even if he’s not working, his coworkers may know where he’s staying and give you the address.”

“We could….” From the tone of his voice, Zander seemed to be on the fence about that.

“Or you could just wait some more.” My father voiced our other option. “Maybe you’ll hear from him in time.”

We all stared at Dad.

“Or not,” he added, again putting words to our thoughts.

“We have to try to find him so we can discuss this situation. We can find out how Cindy is and what the two of them are going to do next.” I was trying to stay rational, but I knew that, in order to discuss anything with Nate, we had to actually find him.

“Didn’t you say they have an aunt who lives just outside of Boston? Maybe Cindy could live there?” Mom then added something we, too, had long been curious about. “And why was this aunt absent for the past three plus years, since Nate’s mother was incarcerated?”

“Nate told us that his mom and her sister hadn’t had any contact in years. Her brother, Rich, was the only person in the family she kept in touch with. So, when the kids needed a place to go, he was the person Nate’s mother contacted,” Zander explained.

“Does Nate’s aunt know what has been going on behind closed doors?”

“I know Nate wouldn’t have told her. And I really doubt Cindy brought it up.”

“But Zander, Nate told us he was going to ask her about the possibility of Cindy finishing high school living with her aunt and cousin. I’m pretty sure he planned on sending money for the next four years to Terri, that’s his aunt’s name, to help support Cindy. He probably would have had to explain in that conversation the reasons she wasn’t safe here with her uncle.”

My father got up and approached me. “That Nate is a very good boy, and he’s very considerate of his sister. Try to keep in mind that he’s not behaving rationally right now. He blames himself for what’s happened to Cindy. He’s suffering with guilt and doesn’t know where to turn. Nate probably believes he doesn’t deserve comfort.”

Dad was trying to help us understand where our boyfriend was coming from and why he hadn’t gotten in touch with us. “Dad, I’ve been hurt before, and I know that a hurting heart doesn’t always act in its own best interest.” My father was right.

Dad smiled. “I don’t want to see you boys become desperate in your effort to reach Nate. I—”

“Mr. Minton, with all due respect, it’s as if each of us is
alone
when we don’t have Nate. There is no ‘us’ without the three of us.”

I nodded in agreement. “Dad, you’re talking to two people who are brokenhearted. Our relationship started as three friends, and it grew as three. It won’t just become two because one of us is missing. Without our third, I’m nothing more than Zander’s friend.”

My parents looked at each other, clearly confused. They didn’t understand that the unique and precious quality of our relationship came from the essence of our three-ness. The trust, love, and sharing that we’d grown to cherish had evolved from three different young men fitting together in a specific way that could not be replicated by just two.

My gaze met Zander’s, and we both nodded. My parents, our friends, the whole world might not understand, but we knew that we were three or we were over. Thankfully, my parents were only confused and not repulsed or angered by our stance on the matter.