Kristen sat up and perched herself on the edge of the sofa. “He is. But he lets me stay here when I need to. Like now.”
Something in her tone put Jake on edge. Her words revealed little about her real situation, but there was an undertone of distress. Maybe she was in an abusive relationship and stayed at Stu’s place after especially bad domestic episodes. A surreptitious glance at her left hand failed to reveal a wedding band. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t involved with some creep who liked to settle domestic disputes with his fists.
He kept his tone neutral as he said, “So what brings you here this time?”
Her expression turned sour. “My boyfriend kicked me out.”
Jake frowned. “Oh. Well. Um…”
He had no idea what to say.
Kristen seemed to sense this and the corners of her eyes crinkled. “He was justified in kicking me out, Jake. I made some promises I couldn’t keep. He found out I was a lying bitch, so he gave me my walking papers.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
She laughed. “You’re not. I volunteered my sad tale. But I’m done talking about it for now.”
Jake shrugged. He felt awkward standing there, so he sat down at the far side of the sofa. He felt a little tremor of excitement as Kristen turned to face him. “Hey, wait. How did you know who I am? Stu’s been gone all day.”
Kristen stared at him a moment. “There’s this new gizmo that’s been catching on lately. Cell phones. Maybe you’ve heard of them. Anyway, I called my brother’s cell this morning to tell him I’d need to stay here a while. He told me you might be here. But I would’ve recognized you anyway.”
Jake cocked an eyebrow at her. “Um…how?”
“There was a story in the Rockville Times when Blood Circus came out. Then another when House of the Damned was released.”
Jake frowned. “Huh.”
“Something wrong?”
“No.” He shook his head slowly. “I guess not. It’s just the last time I knew of my name being in that rag was in the weekly crime report years ago.”
“You mean nobody sent you clippings?”
Jake shook his head. “Who the fuck would do that? Me and Rockville, we’ve kept our distance.”
“So why are you back?”
He told her about Trey’s situation. She listened to him attentively through the whole tale, never breaking eye contact. She was so earnest it was unsettling. Her rapt gaze gave the impression that nothing else existed for her while he was talking.
When he was done telling her about Trey, she bit her lower lip and cast her gaze downward. He figured she was thinking the situation over and would soon volunteer some insights.
But what she actually said was, “Whenever I meet someone new, I have a test. It’s not an especially complicated test, as far as tests go. It’s more subjective than most, and there’s just one question. I ask you to tell me one true thing about life and existence, one thing close to your heart, one thing you believe says everything there is to say about you as a person.”
Jake blinked. “Um…”
Her speech unsettled him. It came from out of nowhere, for one thing. And it was already evident that Kristen was a little strange. But he tried to squelch his unease. He liked her. He couldn’t pinpoint precisely why, but he did. It wasn’t just that she was pretty. It was a combination of the way she talked, the way she looked at him, and her relaxed physicality, the way she was so at ease being this intimate with a virtual stranger. It was all that and probably a host of more obscure things, too.
He liked being close to her.
What that might mean beyond this moment, he didn’t know, but there you go.
He coughed. “Okay. Sure. But you go first…”
She drew in a lungful of air, then let it out slowly. “People like to say they’re not afraid to die.” She peered at him with an intensity that made Jake squirm a little-it was as if she were trying to see through his eyes and into his brain, probing for his secrets. “Of old age, I mean. Hell, everybody’s afraid of sudden death. A killer sneaking into your room in the middle of the night. A crack addict with a gun mugging you on a city street. A heart attack that strikes you down in the prime of life. But most people, if you ask them, will say they won’t fear death as the natural end to a long, well-lived life. If you get to be ninety years old, or a hundred, or whatever, the supposition is that you’ll be so tired of dealing with your infirmities that you’ll gladly surrender to the darkness.”
Jake laughed. “Surrender to the darkness?”
Her smile was a shy one. “I’m trying to be a horror writer, too.”
“No way. Are you shitting me?”
“Seriously.”
Jake sat up straighter. “Huh. Well, that’s cool.”
A subtle hint of redness touched her cheeks. “Yes. But back to the subject at hand. Here’s the thing, Jake. I’m afraid to die. Whether it happens today, tomorrow, or fifty years from now, it doesn’t matter-I’m afraid. I think about it every day. I can be just sitting at my desk at work and suddenly I’ll think about it. I’ll fast-forward to my last moments so clearly it makes me want to scream. I see myself in a hospital bed. Impossibly old and feeble. Hooked up to machines. Laboring for breath. Clinging to life. Most people, if they imagine something so morbid for themselves, they’d say death would be a welcome relief. But not me, Jake.” She leaned forward and touched his hand, making him shudder. “Even then, I’d be consumed with terror. Dreading what comes next, because I know what comes next. Nothing. A void. Nonexistence.” Her voice drifted to a lower register, became almost a whisper. “I don’t believe there’s anything after this life. And I don’t want to ever die, Jake. I don’t want to stop being. Which just isn’t possible.” The shy smile returned. “It’s quite the conundrum.”
Jake drew her hand into both of his. “I think I’m going to drink myself to death.” He swallowed hard. It astounded him that he was saying this. It frightened him, too. “I’m an alcoholic. I ended a year of sobriety yesterday. The stress of being back in Rockville had a little to do with it, but mostly it’s because, deep down, I never really wanted to stop drinking. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop again. I mean that. That’s not a poor-pitiful-me statement. That’s the way it’s going to be because that’s the way I want it to be. I don’t like the way the world really is. I don’t like the way I feel sober. I need the edge off. I need reality blunted. It’s going to kill me. But I consider it an equal exchange. Am I crazy?”
“You’re not crazy.” She laid her other hand on top of his. “And congratulations. You passed the test.”
Jake felt a sudden tightness in his chest. He replayed his words in his head, marveling at them. The sentiments expressed ran counter to every sensible thing he’d learned over the past year, but he realized that he truly did not care. His speech to Kristen marked the first time he’d ever laid bare this unvarnished truth.
Her gaze turned solemn. “Jake…are you feeling this like I am? Please tell me you are.”
Jake hesitated. Then he sighed. “Yeah. Yeah. Holy shit, I think so.”
She smiled. “Cool.”
Jake shook his head. “But it’s crazy. Isn’t it? I’ve known you, what…twenty minutes?”
She laughed. “I know. And it is crazy. It really is. But I don’t think I care.”
They inched closer to each other.
And Kristen said, “Kiss me.”
So he kissed her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The cafeteria at Rockville High came alive shortly after the noon lunch bell. Students poured in through the wide-open double doors at either end of the spacious room, filling the previously silent void with chatter and laughter. Jocks told dirty jokes, their buddies barked sycophantic laughter, and their pretty blonde girlfriends giggled and rolled their eyes. Students snagged prime table spots while their friends got in line to get food. Plates and cutlery clanked, students jockeyed for position as the tables filled, and a hip-hop beat began to emanate from the wall-mounted speakers. The small crowd around the jukebox dispersed after a few minutes, because by then it was already programmed through the lunch hour. By the time the last student cleared the lunch counter, there were precious few empty seats remaining at the overflowing tables.