Chapter fourteen
The longing
My mother used to say that too many people run out of money before they run out of month. It never occurred to me until now that my life was like that. Only instead of money, I was running out of time. Three days was all I had left and I didn't even know how Kristina was. I was suspended from school and suddenly every time I went over, Kristina wasn't home. Karma, fate or whatever you want to call it certainly wasn't trying to help Jason. If something could be thrown in my way, it was there.
I watched her cross the highway from my window, wishing that she’d talk to me. It was a strange feeling missing somebody that you barely knew, but I did. It was the small things that stood out in my memory when I thought of her. Awkward things that last week would have made me run away. The girl always wore dresses that draped over her body like a canvass on a tent, hiding her figure. This girl actually hides her figure from the world. There was something about her though that I couldn’t forget about. Her smile shined. I have seen great smiles, but never one that shined like sunlight. Then of course, there are those eyes that sparkle like diamonds. Most of all, I missed trying to make her laugh.
Kristina reached the school parking lot and was lost from my view. I couldn’t help, but wonder how she lived day after day watching the world from her little window. Watching other people live life rather thean living it herself. What did she dream of? Since I was thirteen years old, I had always thought dream big or go home. Ok many of my dreams were pointless and generally revolved around me. I assume most people’s dreams revolved around themselves, but most of mine involved around some little sexy thing getting naked. Today though, I wondered what Kristina dreamed of. Was it fame and fortune? Did she want to write that classic novel or fall in love? I didn’t think that I would ever know.
Watching her house from my window, I wondered if loneliness was a disease. I knew that you could catch a cold and I have been alone, but I couldn’t remember feeling lonely. Was this a side effect of being human? I haven’t felt human for so long.
I saw a cruiser pull into Kate’s driveway. It looked so small just sitting there between the giant house and these tall trees that looked like they were arms swaying in the wind. The car stopped and the driver just sat there, staring at the house. It was like watching a daytime soap twist unfold. You know how it is. At the very last second you see the gun, hear it fire and then you see your favorite actor fall. Inside your heart, you are wondering, is she dead then you find yourself worrying about a stranger who doesn’t even really exist. He finally opened the door and slowly walked towards the house. I watched and waited as he went in. I can’t imagine it was a very warm meeting since I am certain after the cover up, if he was on fire she wouldn’t even spit on him to put it out.
This is what my life had become. Watching Kate's house intently to see the drama unfold and by the looks of Kate, it wasn't going very well. Uncle Huey was charging out of the house with his hands flying around as he spoke while Kate just stood there on the step with her hands on her hips looking like she might pounce at any minute. My imagination was wild as versions of their conversation played through my mind. Of course in my mind, uncle Huey always got the worst of it. I even had this image of Kate going into the house and chasing the law off her property with a shotgun like you see in the movies, but that didn't happen. Uncle Huey jumped in his car and drove off towards town with Kate glaring at him from her front step, hands still on her waist. He didn't even speed away. Not exactly exciting is it? That was probably the only action I had seen all day.
I ate lunch and then went over to the family’s ancient Pentium 3 computer. It was so old that it grinded and howled when I powered it up and it was still running windows 98. It was the closest to the Stone Age I ever wanted to go. I searched blogs and other social media sites. Hazel's was still there even though she had been dead for a long time. I went through it, finding pictures of her and Kristina from their younger and happier days.
I scrolled through the pages, realizing that Krissy Harris was completely grayed out. Of course I knew that meant that the profile had been deleted, but her comments were there. I scrolled through the images of Hazel's life and the happiest included Kristina. They were always taken in a cold hospital room with tubes or similar devices sticking out of Hazel's body.
The last post Hazel ever wrote said, "A wonderful day. Spent the morning reading Anne of Green Gables with Krissy (Her fave book of all time) then was serenaded by a true rockstar, Jason Wang. True gentlemen with giant hearts are out there." Underneath it was a picture of Hazel and Kristina holding tattered versions of the book and happiness filled their faces. The picture of me and her with that damn lifesaver in her mouth. It was a good day.
I scrolled through the comments. At first there were friends and family commenting on how much they missed Hazel and how she was in a better place now. Over time though, those comments faded until the only one that was there was Kristina telling Hazel about her life and how much she missed her. I had been to Hazel's page countless times, but never saw the comments. Well I never took the time to read them. I only cared about myself and how much I wished that I could have gotten to know her better. If I would have, I might have seen her pain. Somebody did though.
This profile had been deleted, but I knew who it was. It was the internet troll who read her comments and slowly preyed on her loneliness and pain until she saw him as all she had in the world. If I didn't know the end result, I wouldn't have suspected what was really happening based on the comments and conversation taking place, but I guess that's the secret isn't it? Sweet and romantic until you have the victim trapped, then you strike like a cobra.
I flipped sites and logged into my page. How many young girls came here and were looking for friendship, compassion and help? My eyes were open now and for the first time, I saw them. They were short and tall. Fat and skinny. Even beautiful in their own unique way. The minute they made contact, I was the predator. The darkest part was that Kristina was following and commenting endlessly. She was missing Hazel and I was one of Hazel’s last happy memories. She was trying to keep the connection to her happy memories alive. That's how she became a victim. She was searching for someone and I wasn’t there when she needed me. I ignored all the girls who didn’t meet my stupid standards.
I flipped back to Hazel’s page and tried to imagine how differently the world would be, not just for me, but Kristina as well if she had lived just a few days longer. Would knowing Kristina sooner make me a better a person? Would I have been able to give her what she needed and save her the pain? I had no answers to my useless questions.
“So that’s the girl that has been driving wedges into our clan?”, said a voice that made me jump in fright. I quickly minimized the page and turned around to see Cliff standing behind me. Walking over he added, “Let’s just see what you think is so special about her.”, as he took over the mouse. “I just don’t see it.”, he said as he set his hand on my shoulder. “Seems to me that there are a lot hotter chicks to be fighting for.”
“Then I guess you are not really seeing the important parts.”, I responded, expecting some kind of threat or a punch in the face. Cliff seemed like the type that wasn’t afraid to force the world around him to succumb to his will.
Laughing he added, “Maybe you are right. I have never been the sensitive type like you Jason. I am more of an action first, think about it later type.” With a giant smile, he held his hands up as if to block invisible punches, “Don’t look at me that way. It wasn’t an insult against your manhood. I guess in a lot of ways; your sensitive nature makes you a bigger man than I will ever be.” He was still staring at the picture of Hazel and Kristina like he was looking for some kind of hidden clue that just wasn’t there.
“What’s on your mind Cliff?”, I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
He sat on the couch and just stared at the little blood stain on the floor, holding his head between his hands. “If
I ask you to leave this be, you won’t will you? I mean the whole Kristina situation.” A long sigh followed, “This girl’s life is already ruined. I can’t imagine anyone wanting her after all of this and it seems to me that the only thing that will come from this is two ruined lives not just one.”
“So you’re asking me if I think one mistake when she was twelve means that she doesn’t deserve happiness and security? Have you ever actually talked to her? I did and I can’t just walk away.”
He flopped back down further on the couch and just grunted like it was a kind of call of the wild. “I am not saying that Chris was right, only that what happened is the past and bringing it out into the open won’t make it go away and certainly isn’t going to make his life any better.” He was running his fingers through his hair, “There has to be another way to fix this.”
“Did Chris admit what he did to you? Is that why we are having this conversation?” I could see it in his eyes. It wasn’t a maybe anymore, but a reality now.
“No he won’t ever admit it, but I went through his internet history and found things. Things that I never imagined nor wanted to know about.”
“What exactly did you find?” Cliff was too troubled for there to be any doubts that Chris was guilty. “Are you here to try and talk me into believing that he is innocent?”
Sitting up he added, “No that’s not it. I know that he is guilty. Those pictures that he showed us. The ones that he said were emailed to him, were ones that he searched for. Not just her, but other young naked girls as well.”
“You mean that you found proof that he is lying and did it, yet you are still defending him?” I was up on my feet, mad as hell and even thought of throwing fists, but he just sat there like he somehow thought he deserved it.
“I have proof that he stalked her online that is it. It’s not like he was outside her house or anything.” I understood that people can be blind when it comes to family. They try and find meaning beyond the obvious to suit what their mind wants to see.
“Does that really make it any better? It’s like saying I don’t make porn, I just watch it so I don’t promote it.” Cliff didn’t seem to know what to say. “A spade is a spade.”
He looked like he was about to cry as he added, “Well I guess it’s up to the cops now anyways.”
“What?” I snapped.
“They came and took Chris’s laptop for some kind of investigation. It would appear that Uncle Huey decided that the investigation needs to be done by an outsider, not in the local police department.”
“When was this?”
With a troubled look on his face he just shook his head. “He did it because of you, man. He told my dad this morning it was the way you looked at him. Like you didn’t trust him anymore.” I walked over, trying to think of what to say when he stood up, “Don’t try and tell me that you are sorry. Just remember that today is the day you chose a stranger over blood and we never forget.” He was walking towards the door and muttered, “Oh by the way, Tony admitted that he and Chucky beat you the other night because Chris told them that you were trying to help Kristina. I don’t know what is going to happen over it, but if I were you, I wouldn’t go anywhere near them. You might be on the side of justice, but you didn’t make any friends this week.”
I watched him walk towards his motorbike and drive off. I am not really sure who I felt worse for, Cliff for being the only innocent one in this or Jason when he returned home. I knew that Jason wasn’t returning home to the life he left, but I didn’t consider just how different his life was going to be. Not only did I scar his body, but now his whole family would hate and abandon him. My biggest fear though was that at the end of this, I would find Jason Hines’ name on that list. That he would be another reason why I was hell bound. No matter how I looked at it, I failed.
I don’t know why, but I needed to get out. To leave things behind for a while, so I just started walking. It was nice to walk blindly as I tried to determine how saving Kristina’s life lead to destroying Jason’s. Yes I am well aware that there is always right and wrong. I liked the idea that maybe what I was doing now might mean that Kristina would live a happier life. Who knows? Maybe the steps I was taking right now would one day be the foundation that would spark some kind of romance between Jason and Kristina. Maybe that was the whole point. The guy that tore out her heart might be the only one who can fix it. As I walked, I realized that the only thing about that plan I hated was that I wanted to be the one to hold her. Not this Jason, but me the short Asian kid with the charm and sparkling personality.
I found myself in front of a brown building with big windows that appeared to be an old restored barn. A sign that hung above this door that appeared to belong in a garage said, “Quality used goods.” I walked over and stood beside the waist high flowerbeds constructed of thick planks. Of course the flowers were already starting to wither and die, but these were summer flowers. They were daisy like plants and based on the leaves lying on the ground, they were once purple, white and pink. I had seen them before, but I couldn’t put a name to them. There was nothing worse than having the name of something on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t name it.
A little bell chimed as I stepped through the door way. I thought that it smelled moldy at first, but I think it was actually some kind of spice. It reminded me of this little Indian restaurant that my mother used to bring me to when I was young. Of course, this shop looked like somebody robbed a yard sale and threw everything inside to hide it. Old lamps, coffee tables and knick knacks were scattered everywhere. I was walking through the aisles examining, what I assumed they called treasures, displayed on the shelves.
“Can I help you find something luv?”, this little chunky woman asked. She looked like she was at least ninety with wrinkles and long stringy white hairs sticking out of her chin. I was amazed at just how quickly she was able to move, walking towards me.
“I am just looking.”, I said as I went through the shelves, truly just wasting time rather than actually searching for anything specific.
I was looking at a collection of pepper and salt shakers when she added, “This place is an absolute mess boy.” Tapping her temple, “But I have it all up here though. If you want a guitar I have two over in the corner, but if you want a drum set, I don’t have any of those noisy things”, she added with a disgusted look on her face. “If you are looking to impress a young lady, then over in the corner, they are cheap and look real. I am sure, fancy as a gem.” She smiled and I also burst out laughing. She only had a single brown stained tooth. Whether it was from coffee, smoking or both, I will never know. “You look like a reader to me. Are you one of those book worms? Because if you are, I have a whole collection of books. A giant collection of Louis L'Amour westerns, Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables series and many more. Just go over and look if you want.” I was looking over at the books when she smiled, “Oh I knew that you were a reader. My books are priced 5 for a dollar unless you are looking for newer books. I have to charge more for them because they cost more.”
“What about the Anne of Green Gables books?”, I asked, walking towards the back wall which was lined with them.
“Oh I have a complete set, but I think you being a boy and all, that you might want to get a Stephen King book or that Tolkien fellow’s books since they always seem popular. Yes I think you must be a horror story type of fellow.”
I was searching through the shelf, trying to find the perfect books for the task at hand. “No I want to buy the Anne of Green Gables set.”
“I have them at the front of the store, but it’s a rare set and pricy. Everybody wants them, but nobody wants to pay the price. They act like I should just give them away. They act like I am made of money.”
I followed her towards the little glass counter where she seemed to keep all the overpriced treasures that she had collected over the years. There was a variety of gold brooches, necklaces and in the corner, proudly displayed, were ten
books. She pulled them out one at a time and placed them on the counter top. “You see, these books have great sentimental value and the price reflects that. Before we can talk price, I need to tell you their story so you will understand just how special they are.”
Of course I didn’t want to know the history of the books. I could barely stay awake when my mother made me watch the movie with her, so I was certain that I didn’t want to hear the books history. However, I figured if I didn’t hear the story, she wouldn’t sell me the damn books. People generally forget that their emotional attachment shouldn’t reflect the price. I assume by how old the books looked, that she had them here waiting for a sucker to buy them for quite a while.
Grabbing Anne of Green Gables she picked it up, and holding it in the palm of her shaky hand she said, “Now my father bought me these books as a present when I was no more than ten years old. Oh it was the early forties I think. Just before my daddy went off to the war. You know the war against the Nazi’s. He bought me the whole set before he left. Most people think that there are only six books in the set, but he bought me the whole ten of them.” After a slight pause she added, “My daddy never came back from the war.”
Carefully grabbing another well-read book with the name “Anne of Avonlea” on it, she continued, “Now I gave the set to my daughter and she gave it to hers and she gave it to hers. Now I thought that this book would be passed on forever, but now my granddaughter tells me that she bought the whole set for one dollar and reads it on her cell phone.” She curled her nose, “And how she can rent them on DVD. She seems to have forgotten these books are an heirloom. Written and published in Canada for Canadians. It’s the principal of it.”
I was looking through each book one by one. There wasn’t anything specifically special about the book. “And how much are they?
There was a hint of regret as she said, “Well seeing that they are so special I can’t just give them away. I think that thirty dollars a book is fair.”
The way she smiled told me that the books were priced not to sell. They were priced too high for anybody to agree to fork out three hundred bucks for the set. Now I am sure that I could go online and spend less than fifty and get the whole set, but that takes time and I didn’t have time. I looked through each book carefully looking for missing pages or pen marks since that is what kids usually do. Ruin books. I was amazed that seventy plus year old books looked to be in such great condition. Her jaw dropped almost slamming onto the counter when I said, “I will take it.”
“You will what?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the bingo money and said, “I will take them all.” I thought that she was going to cry as I started counting out the money and handed it to her. “These books need a good home and I know the perfect person who can give them one. She loves books and this happens to be her favorite series.”
The old woman seemed shocked that she actually sold them and proud that I said that they were going to a good home at the same time. “Well if she decides that she doesn’t want them, you tell her to bring them right back here where they belong. I mean if she decides that she does not want them.”
She grabbed a piece of paper and started writing. It seemed strange that she wanted to write the new owner a letter, but then again the books had a great sentimental value to her. When she was done, she read the letter and handed it to me. “You give this to your lady ok. I wanted her to know just how valued the books are, so I wrote out their lineage.“ Smiling she added, “This young lady must be really special.”
“She is. I just realized it four years too late.”
“Oh hog wash. When you get as old as me you realize that it’s never too late. I was sixty-nine when I opened this place up. Everybody said that I was too old. That I couldn’t make any money and that I would go broke. I am still here. It’s only too late when they put you six feet under. Remember that boy. Too many people let fear and pride stop them when they should let either guide them.”
I read the letter and it was pretty much the story the old woman had told me word for word. She even put her phone number and if we didn’t want the books, to return them. She would give us a full refund. I liked the idea of Kristina understanding the books history because, despite being overpriced, it made them seem that much more special. “Can I use your pen and a piece of paper?”
She smiled and said, “Sure.”, as she handed them too me. I started writing her a letter of my own.
Kristina,
In life we all get lost. Some find their way home again quickly and others seem to require more time to wander as they search for the best route. I think that you have been lost long enough now. It’s time to come home.
No man or in your case, woman should be judged or defined by their past actions when the greatest parts to come are in the future. Like most things, true beauty is always in the eyes of the beholder. Just like you, these books have a unique history. Most people will look at the cover and miss the beauty inside. These books are a lot like you. It only takes one person to truly see the greatness in you. You are a dandelion and all you need to do is let the world see you bloom and shine.
Jason
By the time I got home, it was getting dark. I was about two hundred feet from Kate's house when I saw the police cruiser pull out of her laneway and whip past me. There weren't any flashing lights or sirens, but something told me that it wasn't good. I dashed into the graveyard, running as fast as I could towards the front door. Kate was just sitting on the step in tears. Even though I could not see her face in the darkness, by the way she was holding her head down low between her hands, I could tell that she was crying.
I stopped at the edge of the graveyard just watching her in silence. I looked up at Kristina's window. All I could see was darkness and something told me that despite all my efforts to stop it, Kristina's death was inevitable. Too many horrors had occurred for me to even begin to fix them.
Kate saw me and ran over, tears running down her face. She just hugged me squeezing so tight I thought she would shatter my ribs and cried wildly with her head on my shoulder. I hugged her back and whispered, "I am sorry."