Beautiful Darkness
Page 67
"Jeez, I hope we don't end up like that one day." Link slunk away, and I fol owed. His parents never failed to embarrass him. "Why couldn't my parents be like yours?"
"You mean mental? Or gone? No offense, but I think you've got the mental part covered."
"Your dad's not mental anymore, at least not more than anyone else around here. No one cares if you walk around in your pajamas when your wife just died. My folks don't have an excuse. They're a few pistons short of an engine."
"We won't end up like that. Because you'l be a famous drummer in New York, and I'l be doing -- I don't know, something that doesn't involve a Confederate uniform and Wild Turkey." I tried to sound convincing, but I didn't know which was more unlikely -- Link becoming a famous musician or me getting out of Gatlin.
I stil had the map on my bedroom wal , the one with the thin green line connecting al the places I'd read about, the places I wanted to go. I'd spent my whole life thinking about roads leading anywhere but Gatlin. Then I met Lena, and it was like the map never existed. I think I would've been able to deal with getting stuck anywhere, even here, as long as we were together. Funny how the map seemed to have lost its appeal when I needed it the most.
"I'd better get over to see my mom." I said it like I was going by the library to see her in the archive. "You know what I mean."
Link tapped his knuckles against mine. "I'l catch you later. I'm gonna walk around for a while." Walk around? Link didn't walk around. He tried to get drunk and hit on girls who wouldn't hook up with him.
"What's up? You're not going looking for the next Mrs. Wesley Jefferson Lincoln, are you?"
Link ran his hand over his spiky blond hair. "I wish. I know I'm an idiot, but there's only one girl in my head right now." The one girl who shouldn't be. What could I say? I knew how it felt to be in love with a girl who didn't want anything to do with you.
"Sorry, man. I guess Ridley's not that easy to forget."
"Yeah, and seein' her last night didn't help." He shook his head, frustrated. "I know she's supposed to be Dark and al , but I can't shake the feelin' what we had was more than just an act."
"I know what you mean."
We were a couple of pathetic losers. Though I didn't think Ridley was capable of anything real, I didn't want to make him feel worse. Link wasn't looking for an answer, anyway.
"You know al that stuff you told me about Casters and Mortals not bein' able to be together 'cause it'l kil the Mortal?"
I nodded. It was only about eighty percent of what I thought about. "What about it?"
"We came close more than once." He kicked the grass, making a brown spot on the perfectly manicured lawn.
"Too much information."
"I'm makin' a point here. I wasn't the one who put on the brakes. It was Rid. I figured she was slummin' with me, like I was good enough to mess around with, and that's it." Link was pacing. "But now, when I think back on it, maybe I was wrong. Maybe she didn't want to hurt me." Link had clearly put a lot of thought into this.
"I don't know. She's stil a Dark Caster."
Link shrugged. "Yeah, I know, but a guy's gotta have a dream."
I wanted to tel Link what was going on, that Ridley and Lena might already have taken off. I opened my mouth, then shut it without making a single sound. If Lena had put a Cast on me, I didn't want to know.
I had only visited my mom's grave once since the funeral, but it wasn't on Al Souls. I couldn't face it that soon. I didn't feel like she was actual y here, hanging around the graveyard like Genevieve or the Greats. The only place I sensed her was in the archive or the study at our house. Those were the places she loved, the places I could imagine her spending her days wherever she was now.
But not here, not under the ground, where my dad was kneeling with his face in his hands. He'd been here for hours and it showed.
I cleared my throat so my dad would know I was there. It felt like I was eavesdropping on a private moment between them. He wiped his face and stood up. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm okay, I guess." I didn't know what I was feeling, but it wasn't okay.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, staring down at the headstone. A delicate white flower lay on the grass beneath it. Confederate jasmine. I read the curving letters carved into the stone.
LILA EVERS WATE
BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER
SCIENTIAE CUSTOS
I repeated the last line. I'd noticed it the last time I was here, in the middle of July, a few weeks before my birthday. But I had come alone, and by the time I got home I was so numb from staring at my mother's grave, I'd forgotten al about it.
"Scientiae Custos."
"It's Latin. It means 'Keeper of Knowledge.' Marian suggested it. It's fitting, don't you think?" If he only knew.
I forced a smile. "Yeah. It sounds like her."
My dad put his arm around my shoulder and gave it a squeeze, the way he used to after my Little League team lost a game. "I real y miss her. I stil can't believe she's gone."
I couldn't say anything. My breath was caught in my throat, my chest so tight I thought I was going to pass out. My mom was dead. I would never see her again, no matter how many pages she flipped open in her books or how many messages she sent me.
"You mean mental? Or gone? No offense, but I think you've got the mental part covered."
"Your dad's not mental anymore, at least not more than anyone else around here. No one cares if you walk around in your pajamas when your wife just died. My folks don't have an excuse. They're a few pistons short of an engine."
"We won't end up like that. Because you'l be a famous drummer in New York, and I'l be doing -- I don't know, something that doesn't involve a Confederate uniform and Wild Turkey." I tried to sound convincing, but I didn't know which was more unlikely -- Link becoming a famous musician or me getting out of Gatlin.
I stil had the map on my bedroom wal , the one with the thin green line connecting al the places I'd read about, the places I wanted to go. I'd spent my whole life thinking about roads leading anywhere but Gatlin. Then I met Lena, and it was like the map never existed. I think I would've been able to deal with getting stuck anywhere, even here, as long as we were together. Funny how the map seemed to have lost its appeal when I needed it the most.
"I'd better get over to see my mom." I said it like I was going by the library to see her in the archive. "You know what I mean."
Link tapped his knuckles against mine. "I'l catch you later. I'm gonna walk around for a while." Walk around? Link didn't walk around. He tried to get drunk and hit on girls who wouldn't hook up with him.
"What's up? You're not going looking for the next Mrs. Wesley Jefferson Lincoln, are you?"
Link ran his hand over his spiky blond hair. "I wish. I know I'm an idiot, but there's only one girl in my head right now." The one girl who shouldn't be. What could I say? I knew how it felt to be in love with a girl who didn't want anything to do with you.
"Sorry, man. I guess Ridley's not that easy to forget."
"Yeah, and seein' her last night didn't help." He shook his head, frustrated. "I know she's supposed to be Dark and al , but I can't shake the feelin' what we had was more than just an act."
"I know what you mean."
We were a couple of pathetic losers. Though I didn't think Ridley was capable of anything real, I didn't want to make him feel worse. Link wasn't looking for an answer, anyway.
"You know al that stuff you told me about Casters and Mortals not bein' able to be together 'cause it'l kil the Mortal?"
I nodded. It was only about eighty percent of what I thought about. "What about it?"
"We came close more than once." He kicked the grass, making a brown spot on the perfectly manicured lawn.
"Too much information."
"I'm makin' a point here. I wasn't the one who put on the brakes. It was Rid. I figured she was slummin' with me, like I was good enough to mess around with, and that's it." Link was pacing. "But now, when I think back on it, maybe I was wrong. Maybe she didn't want to hurt me." Link had clearly put a lot of thought into this.
"I don't know. She's stil a Dark Caster."
Link shrugged. "Yeah, I know, but a guy's gotta have a dream."
I wanted to tel Link what was going on, that Ridley and Lena might already have taken off. I opened my mouth, then shut it without making a single sound. If Lena had put a Cast on me, I didn't want to know.
I had only visited my mom's grave once since the funeral, but it wasn't on Al Souls. I couldn't face it that soon. I didn't feel like she was actual y here, hanging around the graveyard like Genevieve or the Greats. The only place I sensed her was in the archive or the study at our house. Those were the places she loved, the places I could imagine her spending her days wherever she was now.
But not here, not under the ground, where my dad was kneeling with his face in his hands. He'd been here for hours and it showed.
I cleared my throat so my dad would know I was there. It felt like I was eavesdropping on a private moment between them. He wiped his face and stood up. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm okay, I guess." I didn't know what I was feeling, but it wasn't okay.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, staring down at the headstone. A delicate white flower lay on the grass beneath it. Confederate jasmine. I read the curving letters carved into the stone.
LILA EVERS WATE
BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER
SCIENTIAE CUSTOS
I repeated the last line. I'd noticed it the last time I was here, in the middle of July, a few weeks before my birthday. But I had come alone, and by the time I got home I was so numb from staring at my mother's grave, I'd forgotten al about it.
"Scientiae Custos."
"It's Latin. It means 'Keeper of Knowledge.' Marian suggested it. It's fitting, don't you think?" If he only knew.
I forced a smile. "Yeah. It sounds like her."
My dad put his arm around my shoulder and gave it a squeeze, the way he used to after my Little League team lost a game. "I real y miss her. I stil can't believe she's gone."
I couldn't say anything. My breath was caught in my throat, my chest so tight I thought I was going to pass out. My mom was dead. I would never see her again, no matter how many pages she flipped open in her books or how many messages she sent me.
