Where there's a will...
Daylight seemed to dim as I stood in our tiny bathroom, the sound of my heart pounding in my ears and drowning out the world. Cold tap water soothed my cheeks, but I couldn't wash away his presence that clung to me like a second skin. The faint aroma of whiskey lingered. My neck still prickled where his stubble had softly brushed against it.
"My God, Cassie, what's the matter with you?"
The girl in the mirror had a greenish hue to her pale complexion, her hazel eyes looking lost amongst the hair that messily hung around her face. They say the eyes are windows to the soul. So, whose soul was behind mine, I wondered? And, did I really want to know?
The back door slammed, jolting me from my thoughts.
"She's not out there!" Patty's voice echoed through the kitchen, followed by her hurried footsteps as she dashed back into the diner's main room. There was only one person she could be talking to.
"I'm in here!" I quickly wiped my face and pulled my hair into a ponytail to compose myself before stepping out to meet them.
"She's not anywhere!" Patty's voice trembled.
"I'm right here..."
"Oh, Cassie!" Patty threw her arms around me, squeezing so tightly I could barely breathe. "Don't you ever scare me like that again!"
"I'm fine," I said, wedging myself out of her surprisingly strong grip.
"I'm glad to see that! When you're friend burst in here looking like he'd been chased through a briar patch and back by a pack of wild hogs, I feared the worst!"
Chris stood on the customer's side of the counter, his white T-shirt dirty from being held to the ground, the collar stretched and hanging loosely against his chest. His cheek was grazed with a light bruise, but the redness across his throat was faint, all things considered.
"Are you okay, Chris?" I asked him. "I can't believe that guy strangled you like that."
"He strangled you?" Patty said in horror. "Oh, my dear. I remember your mothers dining in here together together for years; they were the best of friends. And if that Merrill boy had any sort of decency about him, he'd be looking out for you, not bullying you. But he never treated you right, did he, hun?"
He anxiously rubbed his scarred arm, the one he had trouble bending. "No ma'am."
I stared at Chris, stunned to hear that this Ace guy was yet another problem on top of all the other problems he had to deal with.
"Sorry you got caught up in it, Cass," he said.
"Are you kidding? I'm glad I was there! What might have happened if I hadn't been? Maybe I should walk you home today."
"You don't have to do that."
"Do you really think you should be alone? How do you know you won't run into him again?"
Patty cleared her throat. "Can I have a word with you?"
She walked out back with me following, rolling my eyes behind her. I knew her well enough to know what she was thinking before she even said it.
"You're getting too involved in all of this," she whispered, leaning against the kitchen bench with her arms seriously folded. "If you mix with trouble, you'll get trouble. And his trouble comes in the form of John Merrill and Richard Chambers, the worst trouble this town has to offer!"
"Whatever trouble comes, I can handle it."
"You need to cut ties with that boy."
More eye rolling from me. "I'm not doing that, Patty."
"Now, I know those boys never got on and all, but things are gettin' outta hand! I mean, look at him!"
I glanced over my shoulder, mindful that he was right outside and that our hushed voices might carry in the stillness of the empty diner. "Exactly. And you expect me to just abandon him? Chris needs all the support he can get!"
"Look, I understand things ain't been fair on him, and I hope he finds the support he needs, I really do, but I just don't see why it has to be you!"
"Maybe it does need to be me. You didn't see what happened out there before but… what if I can reduce the tension between them? Help calm the storm?"
"Did John Merrill hit you over the head and give you a concussion? Because I can't see any other way you could be serious right now. Now, I don't know exactly what happened between those boys, but I'm telling you, they have some very bitter and deep-seated issues, and unless you got a magic weather machine that also rewinds time, then you ain't got a hope in hell of calmin' no storm."
"Well, I have to do something! I can't just sit around hoping this won't happen again or worse!"
"What you DO is focus on yourself. Gettin' all mixed up in their shenanigins is not what you want in your life right now!"
"What I do with my life is not up to you!"
Patty blinked, momentarily stunned.
"Look, I know I've relied on you a lot these past months, and I appreciate everything you've done. But I've risen above whatever dark place I was in, and I'm ready to do something useful with my life. And for me, that's not finding a man and having babies - it's making a difference. It's building something - although, I don't know what. Life's an adventure, and I don't want to be tied down by-"
Seeing Patty's pained face taut and turning red under all that makeup made me bite my tongue that was beginning to run away from me. Hurt flickered in her eyes, even as anger burned just beneath the surface. Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, it looked like she was battling the urge to erupt or cry—or maybe both.
"Fine," she hissed. "Go ahead, poke around in that mess. But the day you get your fingers bit off, don't come crying to me."
With that, she snatched up her things and stormed out the back door, letting it slam shut behind her.
Two seconds later, the door flew open again, and Patty's head popped in. "Make sure you lock the doors," she said, her voice sharp. But the worry in her eyes betrayed the anger as she pulled the door shut with a heavy thud.
That was our first real argument. I felt awful for any hurt I might have caused her, but it all needed to be said. Every word.
These thoughts led me back into the main room of the diner, where Chris was now sitting in a booth, remarkably patient. His lips were pursed and moving side to side as he seemed lost in thought, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. There was no way he could have missed Patty and me; what began as whispers had ended as roars.
"I'm sorry you heard all of that," I said, pulling him from his thoughts. "Are you okay?" I fished a dark blue T-shirt out of my knapsack and placed it on the table in front of him, but he nudged it back towards me.
"You don't need to worry about me," he said.
"Don't I?"
"Cassie!" Patty's red head suddenly peeked in at the front door. "This one's still unlocked, hun."
I went to the front door. Patty's expression had softened somewhat, but the tension was still there.
"Get home safe tonight," she muttered to me before pulling the door closed. And - get this - she waited outside until she heard me slide the deadbolt into place.
"I wouldn't bother," Chris said. "Ace won't be back. It's not his style. He got his message across, and now he'll go back to whatever other bullshit he was doing."
"What's the deal between you and Ace?" I asked, slipping into the seat opposite him.
Chris stared hard at the table, his fingers tapping faster and harder, each tap echoing the intensity of his thoughts.
"Ace hates me like poison," he finally replied, his voice low. "He's always hated me. And nothing you do or say will ever change that."
I looked him over, noting the resilience in his eyes. "Why did you say those things to him, knowing how he might react?"
"Because he needs to hear it from someone," he shot back, his gaze locking onto mine.
"But he nearly killed you for it."
Chris paused, the angst in his expression giving way to a grim satisfaction. "That just means he heard me. And that he knows I'm right."
I stared at him, stunned. "Promise me you'll never do that again."
"No."
"Chris…"
"Look, I know my family's not perfect, but there's no way in hell I'm gonna let Ace Merrill tear it apart."
A chill ran through me. Chris's determination was both admirable and terrifying.
"I get it. I really do." My voice grew sterner despite my efforts to stay calm. "But your family would've been torn apart if you hadn't made it today."
His expression softened just enough to show he understood, but the stubborn resolve in his eyes told me he was still convinced he'd done the right thing.
"Please… just promise me you'll be careful."
"Like I said, you don't need to worry about me."
We were interrupted by a small knock on the front door.
"Oh, shit—Gordie!" Chris scrambled out of his seat and raced to the front door to unbolt it.
The lanky kid walked into the diner, dressed smartly in a collared shirt, a school backpack slung over his shoulders. His new haircut was neatly parted to one side, slicked with oil to keep it tidy.
"Chris! What are you doing? You said you'd meet us at Mickey's after going to the store! Shit…" Gordie's big brown eyes went wide as he took in Chris's appearance. "What happened?"
"Ace and Eyeball jumped me."
"Jesus. Are you alright, man?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Chris said, putting on a tough front.
"Are you still up for going to Mickey's today?"
Chris glanced at me guiltily, but I waved it off.
"Actually, Gordie," Chris said, "go grab the other guys. We'll eat here today."
Gordie's face fell, disappointment evident. "But we already ordered and…" He leaned in close to whisper, "You remember why I wanna go to Mickey's, right?"
Chris paused, then his eyes lit up. "Oh! Right, man," he chuckled, giving Gordie a playful slap on the shoulder. "Gordie's got a huge crush on this girl, Cass," he ribbed his buddy, and Gordie blushed with a goofy grin.
"Cut it out, Chris!"
"He does, though! He even wrote…"
Gordie frantically tried to cover Chris's mouth with his hand as Chris ducked and dodged, fighting to get his words out. "He wrote a story… about… Belinda!"
"Cut it out, man! I don't tell everyone about April!"
Chris froze. "Aww, you're a dead man, Lachance…" He pulled Gordie into a headlock, tucking him in close and rubbing his knuckles into his scalp. The two got into a comical scuffle until they ended their playtime red-faced and out of breath. "Sorry, Cass—we'll eat here next week, no doubt."
"It's no big deal," I smiled. "Just let me know if you want me to walk you… I mean… I guess I'll see you when I see you."
Chris hesitated for a moment, his gaze softening. "Hey, why don't you come with us?"
"To Mickey's? Are you kidding? No!"
"Why not?"
"Because they'll recognize me and think I'm snooping around."
"Oh, come on—they won't care! The waitresses there are… nice. Right, Gordie?" Chris nudged his friend with a playful elbow, and Gordie elbowed him back. Hard.
Perfect waitresses at perfect Mickey's. Great. I knew I was being stupidly cynical, but detesting the diner down the road had become a bad habit over the weeks.
"I'll buy you a burger…" Chris said, that cute little half-smile appearing on his face, the one he probably knew I couldn't say no to.
"Oh, OK," I rolled my eyes, finally giving in. "But you're not buying me a thing."
"Oh, come on, it's the least I can do after everything you've done for me."
"Fine," I sighed, relenting. "But you've got to wear this shirt. You can't go out looking like that." I pushed the T-shirt toward him again, and after a brief hesitation, he took it and started putting it on.
"Was it really you who got rid of Ms. Anderson?" Gordie asked, seemingly impressed.
"Got rid of her? She's gone?" I asked.
"Yeah," Chris chuckled as he stuffed his torn shirt into his bag. But then his smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared. "Hey… hold on a sec." He began to rummage through his bag, his movements growing more frantic. "I've lost my—damn it, where is it?" He dumped the bag's contents onto the nearest table to sift through everything.
"You're missing something?" I asked.
"I can't believe this," Chris muttered.
"Lost what?"
"My Zippo…"
"It's got to be here somewhere, man," Gordie said.
"It must be out the back of Irby's," Chris realized, eyes hopeful. "It must've fallen out of my satchel when Ace threw it!"
Without wasting another second, Chris scooped up his belongings, and the three of us rushed out to the squalid area behind Irby's Billiards where the trouble had gone down. The place felt heavy, the memories too fresh, too raw. The scuff marks were still visible in the dirt. My eyes drifted to the wall where Ace held Chris and then to the wall on the other side of the door where Ace had held me. I tried to fight away the rising tide of that memory - the cold bricks pressing against my back as his whiskey-scented breath blew hot against my ear, his voice dripping with malice. I shook my head, forcing myself to focus, steadying my breaths to let my heart rate come down.
"What exactly are we looking for?" I asked, scanning the ground littered with cigarette butts, broken glass, and other debris.
"It's a brass Zippo. U.S. Army." Chris's voice was tight as he dragged a heavy trashcan out to search behind and around it.
"Did someone give it to you?"
"Yeah," he muttered. "A friend. She's not around anymore." He turned away from me as if to avoid fully answering the question, and I wasn't going to push him to elaborate.
I combed through the bushes a little way down the back road in case the Zippo had been flung that far. But there was no glint of brass among the tangled undergrowth. I went over the area a second time, and then checked further down the back road, each step feeling more and more hopeless.
Gordie offered Chris a consoling pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure it's somewhere else, man. You must have left it at home."
"Nah," Chris sighed, hand on his hip. "I had it with me. Some drunk must've wandered out here and picked it up."
"Should we ask inside?" Gordie suggested.
Chris just shook his head in quiet resignation. "Shit—I can't believe I lost it."
The weight of the situation pressed heavily on me; if this sentimental item really was gone, it was my fault.
"I'm so sorry, Chris," I said, creeping back in. "When I picked up your stuff, I must have missed it."
"It's not your fault Cass. Ace is the one who threw my satchel and spilled it all."
It was then that it hit me. I replayed the scene in my head of Ace lighting a cigarette as he leaned against the wall just a few steps away. He was using a brass Zippo; of that, I was certain. But I didn't say anything to Chris. I didn't want to give him false hope. I mean, how many Zippos are there in the world? And even if Ace had Chris's one, I doubted he'd willingly give it back.
"Should we go eat?" Gordie asked softly.
Chris nodded, his expression still clouded.
"I'll lock up here and follow you down," I said.
As I walked back to the diner, my thoughts gnawed at me. The taste of the information Ace had dangled before me earlier, though daunting, had cracked open a door I couldn't close. The fear that shook me when I heard the name 'Diego' was so unsettling that it lingered at the back of my mind like a shadow I couldn't shake, and I knew I would never stop wondering until I had answers.
As for Chris's Zippo, I didn't know for sure that Ace had it, but deep down… I knew.
The thought of seeing Ace again, of being anywhere near him, twisted my stomach into knots. But I was determined not to let him hold any power over me. No, my dealings with Ace weren't over—not by a long shot.