Young Writers Society

Love. Like anyone actually knows what it means. Sure, they think they do, but do they? It’s the stars, they will tell you, – that queasy feeling you get in the pit of your stomach, and my personal favorite – it’s the way your heart skips a beat every time that person comes around. You want to know what I think about that? Bullshit. Frankly, the stars are getting tired of being associated with anything and everything the overactive human mind comes up with. That queasy feeling? Oh please, I get that every time I eat something bad…come to think of it, how long did I let that sandwich sit? Anyway, like I was saying – oh yes, the frequent skipping of the heart. Personally, if your heart skips a beat every time some dude comes around, you might need to get checked out. No offense.

But you try explaining this to my best friend Liz as she rants on about this guy she’s dating. His name’s supposed to be Max or something. And truthfully, if I’m hearing right, he’s a total tool. But of course Liz wouldn’t know that, because she never listens to anything I say.

“Kat! Are you listening?” She yells into the receiver, forcing me to reduce the volume and put the receiver back on my ear.

“Of course I’m listening, you were talking about Max-“

“Paul!”

“R-right.” Whatever.

So I wasn’t exactly paying attention, but in my defense I’m at work and if I am to turn this internship into a permanent position, I have to be serious. Ok, so that was bullshit. The truth is this has been my life for the past twenty years. Of course, it doesn’t exactly help that Liz is my roommate and twin sister. ‘Cause in my case, that literally means Liz 24/7. Don’t get me wrong, I love her. Besides being stuck with her for the most part of my life, she’s actually the one person in my family that I can stand being around for more than three seconds – that is, without the occasional feeling of committing suicide. Which in light of this current conversation actually sounds appealing.

“So, tonight he’ll pick you up at seven”

“Great! W-w-wait! What?” Did I hear her right? “What do you mean, you?”

“I just told you.”

“Nice try, you knew I wasn’t listening.”

“Oh come on, it’s just one date!”

“The last time you said that – you know what, I’m still recovering from that.”

“Can’t you just do this for me?”

“Hmm. Gee, let me think about that NO.”

“Oh come on, Kat. Max is a really nice guy.”

Ah ha! I knew there had been a Max person involved in this conversation at some point!

“Please….”

“I’m still trying to figure out exactly how my love life is any of your concern?”

“Well, simple. It’s non-existent. Ok…come on, you know me, I’m just worried about you especially with everything you’ve been through with Peter over-“

“Does every conversation have to come back to Peter? I’ve moved on, try doing the same.” What is it with my family and their constant need to butt into my life? It’s like suddenly my boyfriend dies, and they feel the need to get me a replacement as an insurance policy.

“I know you have, which is why I think this date is such a great idea.”

How do I explain that just because I’ve moved on doesn’t mean that I’m ready to get back in a relationship without sounding like I’m still hung up on my past?

“Fine, I will go on this date. Happy?”

“Yes! I have to tell mom, hold on.”

“I-I need to get back to work, talk to you later,” I say as I promptly hang up the phone. I really need to start setting boundaries about being called at work. As much as I hate interning at the Daily Mirror, it gets me out of the house and puts the needed leeway between my family and me.

“Kat, boardroom in five,” Hannah says over the wall of my cubicle as she hurries past in the direction of Eric, the editor’s office. Damn, I had forgotten about my meeting with Eric. I reached for my trusted notepad in anticipation of being asked about ideas for my next story and headed towards the boardroom. “The Headquarters,” as we liked to call it, was a rather small news station. Recently converted from a tabloid magazine to a newspaper, the new owner was still in the midst of creating its image; he shared his hopes with his staff that it would be some blend of news and tabloid reporting. I had applied to be an intern before the Christmas holidays last year, and I was set to start my position in January. But Peter didn’t make it through the holidays, so I pushed my start date to the summer. Getting into the boardroom, I set my trusted notepad on the table as I waited for Eric. He walked in a few minutes after me and proceeded to sit down.

Eric was a bald, stubbly man in his late forties. He liked to wear colored shirts with grey checked cardigans and black pants that settled right beneath his potbelly. His face was rounded with a shiny thick line of hair right above his upper lip, the running joke among the staff was he used his hair regiments on his moustache to avoid throwing them away.

“How are you doing? Are you still settling in okay?”

“I’m doing well, thank you, and yes I am”

“Great,” Eric said, pausing as he leaned forward in his seat. “Look, I ordinarily won’t ask this but given the nature of the topic I thought it best to ask you first before proceeding with the story. We got a call from one of our sources today. The Hendricks’ are ready to finally talk about what happened to their son but they requested that it be you….

…Obviously, I told them that you were simply interning here so they agreed to have a more experienced reporter take your place but on condition that you will still be there.”

I sat staring wordlessly at Eric as he fumbled with his words. “I understand if this is too much to ask, but they explained that having a friendly face present, someone who gets it, would make it less of an ordeal. So… what do you think?”

There were a million things going through my head. Friendly face? Why me? Will this ever end? But of course, none of this made it out of my mouth and I found myself saying, “Sure.”

“Great. So Kenneth will be taking the lead on the story. We scheduled the meet for tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

I nodded as my thoughts trailed off. Why did they need me to be there? What for?

“Okay, great! Keep up the good work,” Eric said as he walked out of boardroom. For the time that followed, it felt like I was in some kind of trance as my mind raced back and forth. Why was this happening? Why now? As my jumbled thoughts intermeshed, I remembered the last time I saw the Hendricks.

I could still hear the sirens of the ambulance and the cop cars in the distance. As I stood motionless, visibly frozen in horror from what I had seen. Peter wasn’t moving as they carried him away on the stretcher. The paramedics kept trying to resuscitate him but nothing was happening.

“Are you getting in?”

“Ma’am! Are you getting in?”

I heard them the first time and the second and even the last time before the doors of the ambulance were shut, and they sped off towards the hospital. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t. I-I was there, I saw it hap-

“You killed him!” I heard it yelled from behind me.

“Do you hear me? You killed my son!” I knew that voice all too well to turn around, so instead, I wrapped my hands around myself and followed the sounds of the ambulance all the way to the hospital.

* * * * *

I wonder who came up with the crap that running helps to clear your head. I have been running for about an hour now and all I know is I’m sweating like a pig, my head is throbbing like I just had it hit with a hammer multiple times, which needless to say, is anything but clear. It’s only an interview, I keep telling myself. I don’t even have to talk. I just have to sit and listen. But I can’t help but feel uneasy. When I got home that day, Mona, Peter’s mom had left a voicemail for me. She wanted to make amends for how she had treated me after Peter’s death, she had said. But I couldn’t help but think of what she would have done, had she known the truth. Had she known that on the night Peter died, I was there.

I paused on the lawn as I stopped the music playing through my headphones before walking into the house.

“Hi honey,” Mom called out from the kitchen as I walked towards the sink to fill my water bottle. “You went for a run?”

“No mom, I just like being sweaty in tight clothes.”

“But you hate running. Wait, are you having nightmares again?” A few days after Peter’s death, I started having nightmares. I started running per Liz’s recommendation. I lasted all of two days.

“Can I have one bad day and have it not be about Peter?”

“I’m sorry, hon. It’s just that the last time you went for a run, you were in a pretty bad state. I’m just worried.”

“I’m sorry. I know you are, it’s just been a really tough day.”

“Well, is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, I’ll figure it out.”

“Well you know if you’re not really feeling too well, maybe you can cancel the date tonight, although I’m pretty sure your sister would be bummed.”

Shit. I completely forgot about that. “No, I will go, the last thing I need is Liz on my back about tonight. I’m going to take a shower” I said leaving the kicthen.

As I headed up the stairs, I felt the ache in my head slowly rising to my temples. I took another sip of water as I entered my room. Nothing had changed since Peter’s death, and yet everything had changed too. I went into my bathroom and opening the medicine cabinet that doubled as my mirror, popped a Xanax into my mouth. I opened the tap and let the cool water run as I washed my face. Memories of Peter flooded my mind. The first time we met, the first time we held hands, our first kiss … they all came rushing through until I could no longer escape them. In that moment, I was with Peter again as he whispered I love you for the first time. I was with him as he held me in his arms and asked me to marry him. I was with him through every moment. Even on the night he died.

“Come on Peter, get down from there,” I found myself saying as the mirror in the bathroom transported me to our best day before his death.

He laughed. “How about you come here and join me instead?”

“Well let me think about that. I don’t have a death wish, so I’m going to have to say no.”

“Death. What really is death?” Peter said as he trailed on the highline at the beach. He held out his arms in the sky as the soft breeze of the ocean lightly blew his clothes.

“We all die eventually, Kat. It’s only a matter of when.”

“I’m guessing some of us prefer sooner than later.”

Peter stopped in his tracks, jumping off the highline and pulled me into his arms. “Don’t you ever get this confused Adams, I intend to be around to annoy you for a very long time.”

“Good. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Good,” he said as he kissed me.

I opened my eyes, and I was back in my bathroom but Peter was gone.

* * * * * * *

The restaurant was nicer than I anticipated. It was dimly lit with small round tables huddled close together. The sound of classic jazz with its soothing rhythm could be heard in the background.

“How did you find this place?” I asked, as Max helped me into my seat.

“Friend of a friend,” He said, a light smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, it’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Good evening, what can I start you with today?” The waitress asked.

“Um, I will have a glass of the Rosa Red wine.”

“Sure, sir, I will need to see an ID for that.”

Max took out his ID and handed it over to the waitress.

“Great, and for the lady?”

“Water. Thanks.”

“Ok, I will have those out shortly, take your time with the menus.”

“Thank you.” I said then turned to face Max.

“So, does this friend of your friend know what to order here?”

“Well, she really liked the Chicken Alfredo”

“Ooo. And does she have a name?”

Max laughed, “Ok, so you caught me, my ex really liked it here, and she actually introduced me to this restaurant.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t. But in my defense, isn’t there a cardinal rule about not talking about exes on first dates?”

…

“Kat?”

“…Kat?”

“I’m sorry. Someone I knew said that before.” Stay focused, Kat.

“Oh. Was that your ex?”

….

“Kat?”

“…Kat?”

…..

“Hey have you seen Peter?” I stopped to ask a servant in the hallway.

“I saw him heading to the backyard a few minutes ago.”

“Ok, thanks.”

“Peter,” I called out as I walked onto the patio leading to the backyard. The backyard was dimly lit to accentuate the pool that sat in the middle of the bordering four pillars. The soft glow of the pool lights illuminated the tree branches wrangled around the pillars. I paused to look at the wooden arc that Peter had built up to propose to me, transporting myself to the emotions that swept us both in that moment. I saw a light go off on the patio of the cabin beside the lake bringing me back to what I was there for in the first place. Peter. I walked towards the cabin, hearing voices as I got closer.

“Peter?” I called out as I walked past the side of the cabin to the front. Peter and Liz pulled apart from their kiss, visibly startled. Seeing who it was, Liz smiled as she got off Peter.

“What took you so long?” She asked. Did I forget to mention that we share everything? Liz pulled out a roll up and lit it.

“Here,” she said, as she handed it to me.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, what about me?” Peter asked, seemingly out of it.

“Hey, are you ok?”

“He’s had far too many, if you ask me,” Liz responded.

“Peter, can I get you something? Some water?”

“No mom,” Peter quipped bursting out into laughter with Liz.

“Liz, how many drinks has he had?” Peter wasn’t okay. There was something wrong.

“Would you get off your high-horse already and have some fun with us?” Liz chastised but I couldn’t keep my eyes off Peter. I had seen him wasted before, but he looked different. His eyes kept opening and closing. I leaned down to the rocking chair he sat in.

“Peter, look at me. Did you have something to eat?”

“S-some…thing to e-e-at,” He drawled out, as he got weaker. I looked over at Liz whose interest had peeked.

“Hey-hey-hey look at me, stay awake, ok, don’t fall asleep.” I looked around helplessly trying to figure out what to do. I needed to keep him awake but I had no idea how.

“We need to keep him awake,” I said to Liz who was now also hovering over Peter.

“The lake! The water should keep him awake.” Liz frantically offered.

“Help me get him up.”

We carried Peter, who was slowly losing consciousness to the lake. I held him in my arms as Liz tried to rouse him with the cold water. For a second, it seemed to be working, but then Peter gasped, convulsing and out of breath.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! What’s happening?!” I heard Liz yell frantically as she broke out in hysteria.

“Peter, calm down. Look at me, look at me.” I tried my best to calm him down as his entire body trembled in my arms. But it was no use. “Liz, go get help.”

“Oh my God, Oh my God!” she hysterically continued.

“Liz! Go get help!”

“Oh my God, Oh my God!”

I kept yelling, but she was gone to another world of her own. I looked down at Peter helplessly. He was dying and we both knew it.

“Hey, you stay with me ok? You promised! I-I can’t-… stay with me.”

Peter looked up at me, smiling in that brutish manner he did to always win me over and just like that, he was gone.

I reached my hand to touch his paled face. Each stroke feeling different than the one before. I closed my eyes and planted a soft kiss on his familiar forehead. Opening my eyes, I found myself staring intently at the hands clasped in mine. I looked beyond the unfamiliar hands to the body they belonged to and found myself staring up at Max with a mixture of confusion and worry framing his eyebrows.

“I must admit that I’ve never had my date kiss me on my hand before” He said.

* * * * *

When I woke up the next day, my mind was still swamped with thoughts of Peter. Liz had lost a friend, but I had lost my soulmate. Because Peter had been found alone on the shores of the lake, investigators ruled his death to be an accident. The high amounts of alcohol and drugs found in his system validated the story I told about finding him by the lake. The house servants also supported my story, seeing as one of them had directed me to where I could find him. Nowhere in my narrative was Liz mentioned. After all, no one but Peter and I knew that she had been there, and even if anyone had seen her around that night, they had just assumed it was me. Liz had left in a panic before help arrived, and I was left to save us both. In the months that followed, just as she was erased from the narrative, she also erased the events of that night from her mind. She turned over a new leaf as she called it. But once again, I was the one left behind.

“Ready, Adams?” Kenneth asked as we got out of the van and walked towards the door of the Hendricks’ mansion. I stood in the driveway transported to a different time. Memories of my time there with Peter came rushing back. The five-story brick-walled mansion held more secrets than most people believed and would ever know. My only saving grace was that the one person who knew all too well was five feet under.

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