Chapter 24
The feeling of skin, soft and sweaty, followed Ashe into sleep. He had forgotten what it was like to be in the passionate and all-encompassing embrace of another person, someone who wanted the sensations as much as him. It was an instinct that he had been ignoring, like growing pressure which was finally allowed to explode. The act of being with Katherine reminded him not only that he was alive but that he was human with human needs. He would no longer ignore them. He would no longer take them for granted.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep long when the phone in the kitchen began to ring. Trying to shake away disorientation, Ashe rose and stumbled his way down hall and down the stairs.
“Let it ring,” Katherine called from the darkness of the bedroom.
He merely shook his head. As his mind cleared, he began to jog toward the phone. Snatching it, Ashe answered, “Hello?”
“Dad?”
The voice swatted away whatever sleep still managed to linger. It was like being smacked in the face with a spray of ice cold water. Ashe’s mind became clear and his senses were immediately put on edge.
“Scott? Scott, is that you?”
At first there was only silence, but then Scott answered, “Yea.”
“Damn it, Scott!” Ashe exclaimed. “Where the hell are you?” He took a second to pull the handset from his ear to glance at the caller ID. The number was from a Youngstown are code, meaning that his son was still in town. But he didn’t recognize the rest of the digits. It was no number that he was familiar with.
And why had he called the house phone instead of Ashe’s cell?
“Calm down, dad,” Scott replied.
“How can you tell me to calm down? Tell me where you are and I will come and get you,” he said. Ashe didn’t know how he would react when he saw or spoke to his son again, but he never expected the anger and desperation to be so intense. He had pictured the conversation a few times and it was always calm as he tried to reason with Scott. But the reality was proven to be different the moment he heard his son’s voice. “I’m walking out the door as soon as you give me an address.”
“I can’t do that,” Scott told him.
“And why not?”
“Because there is still some things that I need to do,” Scott replied.
“I don’t understand,” Ashe began. “Owen is dead. Two others are also dead. And you are on the run. What are you running from Scott? Are you running from the police? You won’t get far and you know it. Oscar has your scent and he will not stop until he has you in custody. Why don’t you come in? I will come get you and we can go together.”
“No.”
“I know about the fight between Owen and you,” Ashe began. “I know about Owen’s drug use. I know about Owen’s past. I also know that what happened in the park was self-defense. I’ve talked to your coach. I’ve spoken to Regime.”
“Don’t worry about any of that,” Scott insisted. “None of that matters.”
Ashe sighed. “Doesn’t matter? What happened, then? At least tell me that. I want to understand…what you are doing.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“You won’t believe me,” Scott answered.
“You would be surprised what I may believe,” Ashe replied.
“Not this,” he insisted. “I can’t just give you the answers. It is not…that simple. You have to figure it out on your own or you will never fully understand or believe. Find the truth and then you will find me.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Ashe said, shaking his head. “That doesn’t make sense at all.”
“Exactly my point.”
“You’re confused, Scott,” Ashe tried to justify. “You are…delusional. Sick.”
“I am not sick!” Scott regained his calm and continued. “What is happening will never fit neatly in one of your textbooks or journals, father.”
“You are not thinking straight. You are not thinking clearly.”
“I am thinking more clearly than I ever have before,” Scott assured his father. “My eyes have been opened and I have seen beyond the veil, so to speak. But my insight will never stand up in court, when closed minded people are judging my actions and sealing my fate.”
The voice on the other end of the phone was Scott but it was no longer his son. Ashe was speaking to someone that he did not recognize or comprehend. He was speaking to a troubled stranger, plain and simple.
“Why are you calling me, then?” Ashe asked. “Why make this call if you are not going to come in or tell me anything.”
“To make sure that you are following the clues,” Scott replied.
“Clues? What clues?”
It was Scott’s turn to sigh.
“The ones I left behind,” he stated.
Ashe took a second to think.
“The journal? The container?”
“Yes.”
“But how did you know that I would notice them or even look twice at them? That was a long shot at best,” Ashe said.
“I know you,” his son told him. He then quickly added, “Wait. You only have the journal and the container? Is that all?”
“That’s it,” Ashe replied.
“No. No. No,” Scott said, growing irritated. “You’re missing something. Three things. I left you three clues. Not two.”
“Three?”
“You need to find the other clue,” Scott ordered.
“At least tell me what I am looking for,” Ashe pleaded. Clues? Was that really what Scott was telling him about? Clues? Did Scott leave him a trail of breadcrumbs to follow, like in the fairy tales? But real life is not a fairy tale…and even in fairy tales, at least the Grimm versions, the good kids got eaten. He wanted to tell Scott, make him understand just how bad things were getting for him and how absurd it was to leave behind vague clues, as if he was living a crime movie. But he never got the chance.
A voice appeared from behind Ashe. “Who are you talking to?” He turned to see Katherine standing in the entrance to the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. “Who is that? You always get strange late-night phone calls? Should I be worried?”
“Who is that?” Scott asked, his voice vibrating with irritation.
Ashe didn’t know how to answer.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your sleep over,” Scott grumbled.
“Scott…”
But he was gone.
“Fuck!” Ashe screamed. Meeting Katherine’s eyes he finally answered her question. “Scott. My son.” He realized that he not only needed an embrace, but he needed someone to confide in. Katherine had fulfilled the one desire and might be able to fulfill the other. Placing the phone down, Ashe began to tell her about Scott and the whole damn mess that his son had gotten into. As the levy broke, his only hope was that Katherine would neither run nor drown.
Part Two
“Much Madness is divinest Sense -- to a discerning Eye -- much Sense -- the starkest Madness”
--Emily Dickinson