Reckoning (20 page)

I gasp and spring to my feet, the plate crashing to the patio, breaking into a dozen irreparable pieces.

Lovell looks at my intently, not even glancing at the mess at my feet. “What? You felt something, didn’t you?”

“No…no,” I stammer. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” I bend to pick up the pieces, but Lovell stops me, placing a restraining hand on my arm. Tingling tremors rush through my skin and my hand clenches into a fist.

He releases my arm and leans back in the chair. “Don’t worry about the plate. It doesn’t matter. Just tell me what you felt.”

“I didn’t feel anything…”

“Kat. You don’t have to lie. Just tell me. I had the same reaction, you know. The first time it happened to me. So it’s not like I won’t believe you.”

I shrug and pick up the remains of the china, carefully placing the jagged pieces next to the bowl of chips.

Sitting back down, I wonder what I should say, and why I feel so shocked. It’s not like it had been that different from any of the other images I’ve been seeing all my life. It’s just that I hadn’t expected it. And I’m not sure how I feel about it. The last thing I need at the moment is yet another way of being haunted.

Lovell is looking at me expectantly. Should I tell the truth or deny everything? Make something up or tell him exactly what I saw? I’m so tired of going through this all alone; never telling anyone; always hiding, denying. It would be such a relief to share it – even a little. After all, if the same thing happened to him, then he can’t think I’m that much of a freak.

I take a deep breath and opt for the truth. Or at least some of it. “It was weird. The plate got kind of warm and then there were a lot of different feelings - or emotions - that came and went really quickly.” I turn my head to look at him. “Is that what it’s like for you?”

He nods. “It’s very similar. It’s weird when it first happens, but once you get used to it, it’s alright.”

“I don’t know if I
want
to get used to it.” I look across the fence to the roof of my house. A small group of wrens fly over, landing in the ash tree, disappearing behind the leaves in a chorus of sound. “Do you ever get any really bad feelings?”

“Sometimes. Those would definitely be the objects you want to stay away from.”

“Why?”

“Well, there are some people who believe that something that is filled with negative energy can transmit that energy out to you. Really mess up your life. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but may as well not take the chance, you know?”

I nod in agreement. “But how do you know the difference?”

“Sometimes you can just sense it. You might feel a reluctance to go near something or pick something up. Other times, you learn the hard way. Either way, once you know the kind of energy it possesses, you’d want to keep your distance.”

I sit back, lost in my own thoughts.

“Was there anything else, Kat? Other than the feelings?” There is a note of anticipation in his quiet voice, almost as if he knows or expects something more.

I hesitate, feeling a sudden compulsion to just tell him. All of it. Why the hell not, after all? What difference can it make? “I saw a face,” I say, before I can think about it any further. “A woman’s face. She was standing at a sink. Washing that plate.” I point to the shattered remains on the table. He can think whatever he wants about me. Right now, I don’t really care. I leave out the bit about the fiery blast and the dripping blood. “Pretty crazy, huh?” I try to laugh, but it comes out as more of a breathless grunt.

“No, not at all. Some people will get the emotions, but it’s pretty rare to actually see the person attached to the object. I’m impressed.” He sits back and crosses his arms.

“Don’t be,” I say. “It’s not like I’m going to do it again anyway.”

Lovell is quiet, as though he is debating his response. I can feel him looking at me, but I keep my gaze riveted on the ash tree.

“Well, like I said, you get used to it,” he finally says. “Thanks for trying. It’s nice to know I’m not alone.”

“Sure.” I hear a car door slam and the sound of footsteps. “I gotta go,” I say, getting up from the chair. “My mom’s home.”

“Thanks for your help today. I appreciate it.” He is holding one of the pieces of broken china, turning it slowly in his hands.

“No problem.”

I hurry back through the house, back to the safety of my bedroom, wondering why everything always has to be so weird with Lovell.

Two days later, I sit in my room, staring at my driver’s license. Even though I don’t have a car to go along with it, I still have an exhilarating feeling of independence. I study the picture of my face critically. I’m never happy with the way I look in photographs, but this is worse than usual. I’d tried to smile, but I still look stiff and wooden, slightly uneasy, as though I’m not sure what’s going to happen next. But I guess it’s appropriate considering the fact that that’s how I usually feel anymore. I wonder if that is how I look all the time. God, I hope not.

Glancing at the clock, I step into the bathroom for one last check on my hair and make-up. Rick had called last night, finally easing the knot of anticipation in my stomach, asking if I wanted to go bowling and get something to eat, promising something better than pizza and soda at the bowling alley. Even though it had only been two days, I’d been anxious to hear from him. I’d quickly agreed, trying to remember the last time I’d gone bowling. It must have been with Rachel over two years ago. The amount of gutter balls I’d thrown had probably set a new alley record. Hopefully, this time I would at least manage not to
bounce
the ball down the lane.

The doorbell rings and I hurry through the living room, my heart racing.

“Hey, Kat! How’s it going?” Rick says as I open the door. A smile spreads across his face, and my heart immediately lifts.

“Great,” I say, opening the screen door and inviting him in. He has on jeans and a blue and white checked shirt. He’d rolled up the sleeves and left the hem untucked. It looks perfect. I wonder if he ever stands in front of his closet trying to decide what to wear, or just throws on the first thing he finds. I’d already changed three times. “How about you?”

“Good. You live a lot closer to me than I thought. When you gave me directions, for some reason I thought you were on the other side of the park.”

“Did you get lost?”

“No, I figured it out quick enough.” His eyes roam around the room. “I like your house.”

“Thanks. Not quite as new or big as yours…”

“No, it’s cool. It’s got character, you know?”

I nod, in complete agreement. “I like it. It’s home.”

My mom enters from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Hi! You must be Rick.” She smiles and steps forward, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Matheson. I was just telling Kat that I like your house.”

“Oh, well, thanks. It’s really too small, and we keep talking about moving, but…we’re still here.”

“We just moved into our new house about a year ago. It was a total pain.”

“Moving is definitely not a pleasant job.”

“No doubt.” Rick shoves his hands in his pockets.

“So,” my mom says, looking between the two of us. “Bowling and dinner, huh? Sounds like fun.”

I can see my mom eyeing him speculatively, as if trying to decide whether or not he is trustworthy. “Yeah,” I say, anxious to get going. “It should be a lot of fun.” I edge toward the door.

“OK. Remember – home by eleven.”

Rick holds the screen door open for me. “No problem, Mrs. Matheson. It was really nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” she says, watching us from the doorway.

Rick drives an older model, Toyota pick-up, the black paint faded to a dull charcoal. It looks well worn and comfortable, like an old pair of jeans. I immediately like it. He opens the door for me and I step in, surprised by how clean it is. Weren’t guy’s cars usually a mess?

“I like your truck,” I say, as he starts the engine and puts it into gear.

“Thanks. I think I managed to get it pretty clean. You should have seen it earlier.” He turns to me and grins. “Or maybe not.”

I smile. So guy’s cars usually
are
a mess. “Hey, check this out,” I say, reaching into my bag for my driver’s license. “Just got it today.” I really don’t want him to see the picture, but I’m bursting to share it with someone. Slipping it out of its slot in my pocketbook, I make sure to cover the picture with my thumb.

He glances over, his face breaking into a smile. “Awesome!” He raises his hand for a high-five. “Isn’t that the best feeling? I remember when I first got mine. Man, I was so psyched. Itching to go somewhere…
anywhere
.”

“I know. Even to the gas station and back.” And suddenly, I’ve made up my mind – I will ask my mom about the Jeep tomorrow.

“Do you have a car?” he asks, turning south onto the boulevard that runs past the university.

“No,” I shake my head. “Not yet. But I’m hoping I can talk my parents into letting me buy this used Jeep one of my neighbors is selling. I’ve saved up most of the money.”

“That’s cool. I didn’t get this until last summer. Mainly because my parents were sick of driving me places.”

“That will
definitely
be one of my arguments. Plus, it’ll be easier for me to get a job.”

“Absolutely.” We drive past the university campus, the gold spire of the Williams Tower shining brightly. He turns left, heading east towards the bowling alley. “By the way, sorry it took me so long to call. I was going to call on Sunday, but I just got really busy with stuff. I had a job training thing all morning, then I had to go downtown with my dad to pick up parts for this old car he’s rebuilding. Then we had this big family dinner. The whole day was shot.”

“That’s OK. I was busy, too.”
Liar
. “What was your job training for?”

“I got a job as a lifeguard over at the rec center.”

“Really? That’s great!”

“Yeah, I’m psyched. I did
not
want to deliver pizzas again this summer. That totally sucked.”

“I’ll remember that when I’m looking for a summer job.”

We stop at a red light, and I shift in my seat, scanning the area outside the window. Turning my head to glance over my shoulder, I instinctively tense. These days, I never know what I might see.

“So what kind of music do you like?” Rick asks, reaching for the radio.

“Lots of different things.” I’d been listening to Dvorak earlier, but I refrain from mentioning it. I haven’t yet met a guy into anything even remotely classical.

“I’ve got a lot of stuff most people have never heard of.” Reaching up, he pulls a CD down from the back of the sun visor, slipping it into the player. “See if you like this. They’re kind of different, but they’re really cool.”

“Who is it?”

“It’s this band called
Within Temptation
. They’re sort of an orchestral, goth band.”

My eyes widen in surprise. “No way! You know
Within
Temptation? I love them.”

“Seriously? You’re a fan? Awesome! I’ve never known anybody else who’s even heard of them!”

I smile and relax into my seat, the music a perfect accompaniment to my soaring emotions. As we pull into the parking lot, I can’t help but feel that this is really, really good.

_________

We spend the next two hours talking sporadically as we bowl three games, the noise and the constant movement making anything but casual conversation difficult. Midway through our third game, I bowl my first strike. I raise my arms in victory, and Rick gives me a double high-five. Considering his athletic abilities, I’m surprised to discover that he bowls only a little better than me.

Rolling my last ball for a respectable spare, I eagerly remove the astoundingly unattractive red, white and blue bowling shoes, glad the hem of my jeans is long enough to cover most of them.

“One thing I will never understand,” I say, a grimace on my face, “is why they can’t make a better looking shoe.” I hold up the offending object, dropping it to the floor in distaste.

Rick sits down beside me and grins. “Are you kidding? High style all the way, baby.”

“If that’s high style, I can do without it.”

“Why do you think they sell so much beer?” he says, laughing. “It’s the only way to tolerate the shoes.”

I laugh in agreement, slipping gratefully back into my wedge sandals.

“Hungry?” Rick asks, as we make our way to the exit.

“Starving.”

“There’s a really nice café over on First, by the mall. You can get sandwiches, soup, salad, that kind of thing. We can go there if you want.”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Fifteen minutes later, we walk into the restaurant. It’s charming. One of those places with soft lighting, checkered tablecloths, and a small candle and fresh carnation on each table. Several booths line two walls, along with a handful of tables in the center. There are a few other diners, but not enough for the place to feel crowded. Soft music plays in the background, adding to the romantic atmosphere. A smiling, blonde waitress seats us in one of the booths near the door.

I order a Caesar salad and water, and Rick asks for a turkey sandwich and Coke. “Oh, and a large side of fries,” he adds, glancing at me with a wink.

I gaze out the window at the streetlight, memories hovering at the back of my mind. Refusing to think about it, I settle into the vinyl seat. I’m having a great time, and despite my persistent worry that the next incident is just waiting to happen, I feel surprisingly calm.

We talk about school while we eat, discussing the teachers we like and dislike, favorite classes, and stupidest homework excuses we’ve heard, before the conversation drifts to our families.

“So what does your mom do?” Rick asks, pushing aside his empty plate.

“She’s a legal assistant for a firm that handles real estate law.” I twirl the water in my glass with a straw, watching the ice slide smoothly against the side. “She’s been able to do it part time since I was pretty little, but I think she’s starting to get bored.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. She’s been putting in more hours lately, going out with friends more.” I shrug. “Not that I blame her. I mean it’s not like I’m a little kid anymore. She probably needs something to fill her time.”