The Orphans of Race Point: A Novel (11 page)

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Why not? She your new best friend or something? I saw the two of you bonding over there in the sand.”

“Maybe she is.”

“What can I say? The girl can’t hold her liquor. Did you see her? She’s a mess, babbling on about Saint Gus from Miss Iverson’s first-grade class again. You were right. I only asked her to the prom to frost Melissa. Guess karma got me back, huh?”

“She told you that story about first grade, too?” Slowly registering the reference to
Saint
Gus, Hallie cracked open the back door of the car and retrieved her cigarettes. She was suddenly eager to get back to the fire.

“Oh, she told me all right. Pretty pathetic all around, if you ask me.” Neil took the pack of cigarettes from her hands, removed two, and lit them. He passed one to Hallie.

“Are you calling Gus pathetic?”

“Bad choice of words.” He only smoked on rare occasions, and after he inhaled, he gave in to a brief coughing fit. Then he returned to the subject of Gus. “Fucked up is more like it. Fucked up for life.”

The moment was so surreal it left Hallie speechless. It reminded her of the night when he had played a desperate addict onstage so convincingly that she no longer recognized him. But this time he wasn’t acting.

“Come on, Hallie,” Neil continued, his voice growing louder. “Open your eyes. I know him better than anyone, and I love him, but—”

“You
don’t
!” Hallie yelled. “You wouldn’t say that if you did.” She tossed the cigarette on the ground and began to walk away. She hadn’t made it more than a couple of feet when Neil sprang after her. He spun her around and kissed her hard on the mouth.

“
This
is what I know,” he said as she struggled to get away. “It was supposed to be me. It was supposed to be us; and if you weren’t so blinded by Gus’s fucking voodoo, you’d see it, too.”

“
Never
,” Hallie said harshly. “Even if there was no Gus, it would never have been you.” In an instant, her words accomplished what all her strength could not. Neil let her go. Gus’s jacket fell to the ground as she reeled backwards. But before she could regain her footing, she felt his long freckled fingers, digging into her arms. “Bitch,” he said in a slurry voice. “Nick’s spoiled little bitch.”

When she again tried to jerk herself free, Neil tore at the strap of her Race Point blue dress, exposing the whiteness of her breast. Enraged, Hallie pushed back with enough force to land him in the asphalt. “If you ever come near me again, I’ll—” she began, backing away as she tried to cover herself.

Before she could finish her threat, she heard Neil crying. Crying and saying that he loved her.
Don
’
t you understand? I love you.
And then he was reciting the words of the note that had brought her and Gus together. The note she had never talked about with anyone but Felicia. How did Neil know what it said?
It’s you or nobody. Always has been. Always will be.

Hallie was struggling to absorb it when she heard the gunfire rhythm of approaching footsteps. Though they’d been alerted by the sound, Gus still seemed to come out of nowhere—the way he did on the football field in the most thrilling moments of the game. But this time there were no lights, no chanting crowd, no victory. He threw himself at Neil like he hurtled himself toward the end zone, the hands that had glided gently over every inch of her skin, transformed into a pair of remarkably efficient fists. She was stunned by the audible
thwack
of knuckles against flesh. The primal, metallic odor of blood left her instantly nauseous. Spurting from Neil’s nose and spraying across his face in the pale light, it was more black than red. But above all, she was shocked by the appearance of a Gus she’d never seen before, the one he and her father had tried to warn her against:
Codfish Silva’s son.

Though he was hitting Neil, it was Hallie’s name he was saying. “Shit, Hallie. With my best friend?” And Neil was talking to her, too, even as he swiped his nose with his sleeve, and attempted to evade another punch. “Do you see this, Hal? Do you get it now? What did I tell you?”

Gus took his friend by the shoulders and heaved him against the hood of the car.
Again.
And again. At first, Neil attempted to resist, but then his body went pliant and limp. Still Gus continued.

“Stop, Gus!
Stop before you kill him!
” Hallie heard herself yelling just before she threw herself between them. The words seemed to be coming from someone else. The inky blood pouring from Neil’s face, his unfocused eyes, were the last things she saw before the morning was erased and blackness swallowed her.

Chapter 13

H
allie saw her father even before
he realized she was awake. He was sitting on the edge of her purple quilt, where he had taken to drinking his coffee before work, and his forehead was creased with worry. He’d lost so much weight that even his bones looked diminished.

According to the calendar on her wall, Hallie had been home for eleven days. During the weeks she’d spent in a coma, most of the summer had disappeared, and with it, everything she had planned. What she once confidently called
her future
. Nick had been at her side when she woke up, too. She remembered his tears, and the way he had covered her face with kisses, telling her he loved her over and over in Portuguese and promising her that she would make a full recovery. He was sure of it.

Recovery?
Hallie had thought, taking in the squares of white mineral board on the ceiling, the hospital machinery, the sound of the staff’s brisk footsteps in the hallway. She’d attempted to form a word, but it was hours—or even days—before it came. Time had become irrelevant.
Gus. Where’s Gus?

By then, Aunt Del and Stuart had arrived. And they, too, were crying and kissing her hand, hugging Nick and promising her and each other that she was going to be fine. But even when she spoke louder, no one would answer her question.

“Rest, my darling,” Nick had said. “You need to rest.”

And though she wanted to argue back, Hallie gave in to exhaustion.

Still she’d called for him repeatedly. She knew something had happened between her and Gus. Something bad. But the images floating to the surface of her mind made no sense. Had they been in an accident? Was Gus hurt?
Dead?
No, she couldn’t bear to think of it; and yet she couldn’t imagine anything else that would keep him away.

Not now
, her father said, echoing her thoughts.
You have to focus on healing.
And on the days when she grew agitated:
Gus is all right. I promise you, Pie. Now no more questions. Please, you have to trust me.

If he’s all right, then why isn’t he
here
? she wanted to say. But again, she was too weak to form the words. Too tired to make sense of the answers.

Even Aunt Del left the room when the subject came up, repeating Nick’s stock lines as she went: “There will be plenty of time to think about that, but first you have to take care of yourself. You’ve done so well, sweetie.”

Now, back at home, her father was clearly trying to steer her thoughts toward the future. However, when he brought up college, Hallie turned toward her window.

“If you keep working hard on your therapy, you could take a couple of courses at the community college in the spring. Linda said she’ll sell me her old Corolla,” he persisted, the determined optimism in his voice never waning. “Thing’s got some miles on it, but it would get you to Barnstable and back for a few months.”

“You know the reason I work so hard at therapy?” Hallie asked—more sharply than she intended. “It’s not so I can get a car. Or go to college. Or hang out with my friends. I’m doing it for one reason and one reason only.”

She shook off Nick’s hand. “I’m starting to remember what happened that night on the Point, and I know why Gus has stayed away. He probably thinks it’s all his fault.”

“I’m glad you’re starting to remember, Pie, but the situation is more complicated than what happened that night. You don’t understand—”

“No,
you
don’t understand, because if you did you’d know I’ll never give him up.” Hallie shouted, startling her father with the newfound power in her voice.

Nick set his coffee cup on her bedside table next to a copy of
Jane Eyre
he’d brought upstairs. The novel she could never resist, even though she’d probably read it a dozen times, remained untouched. He gave a perfunctory glance at his watch, signaling that he was through with the discussion. “I’ve got to get to the office—”

“If Gus won’t come to me, then I need to get strong enough to go to him. That’s what I’m working for . . . what I’m
breathing
for.”

A flash of anger darted across Nick’s face. “Gus Silva is thinking about his own future, Hallie. You need to do the same.”

“How do
you
know what he’s thinking about? Have you seen him? You’ve got to tell me the truth.” Against her will, Hallie began to tremble.

She expected her father to come back and sit on the bed again. To comfort her like he always did. Instead, he stood firmly in his spot. “I’m sorry, Hallie. Truly, I am. But if you started to plan a little bit, some of this might become easier.”

“
Some of this?
You mean knowing that Gus is torturing himself for something he didn’t do? That only the blackest despair could keep him away from me? Or maybe feeling like I’m going to lose my mind if I have to go through another day—another hour—without seeing him?

“All I can say is that it will get easier. I can’t tell you when, but it will,” her father said with the same compassionate but professional stolidity he used when he told a patient he or she had a terminal illness.

“I don’t want it to get
easier
,” Hallie snapped. “I want to see my boyfriend!” By then, the tears were running into her mouth, and onto her chin.

Nick stood in the doorway, the shadows on his face emphasized the light that poured through the door. “You want to know Maria Silva’s worst mistake?” he asked finally. “She thought she could save Codfish. Even when her own life was threatened, she kept believing she could save him. I’m sorry, Hallie, but I won’t allow that to happen to you.”

Hallie blinked back fiery tears, as the objections formed in her throat.
Gus was not like the Captain. He was nothing like him.
But when she looked again, the doorway was empty; her father was gone. All that remained were the dust motes spinning in the light and the echo of his words.

H
allie had been home for three
weeks, growing stronger and more lucid every day. She had been eager to see her friends, but when Felicia and Daisy pivoted quickly away from the subject of Gus, she stopped taking their calls.

Then one day Hallie heard the coltish click of Felicia’s heels on the stairs, her friend’s impatient hammering on the door. “I’m not taking no for an answer, Hallie. Open up,” Felicia demanded. When that didn’t work, she wheedled: “
Please?
I’ve got music, and a ton of gossip—even a couple of your precious books.”

“That’s not what I want and you know it,” Hallie called back.

Felicia released an audible sigh. “I swear, Hallie—I haven’t seen him. No one has. And even if I knew where he was . . .”

In spite of her weakness, Hallie climbed out of bed and made her way to the door.
“Even if you knew—
what? Finish the sentence.”

Felicia seemed stunned by her friend’s pallor, the hand that shook as it held the door.

“You need to get back in bed, Hal,” she said, gently taking her elbow.

But Hallie just shook her off as she glared defiantly. “Finish the sentence, Felicia.”

“Listen, you almost freakin’ died out there on the Point whether you know it or not. Your dad’s worried about you, okay? Nick only let me come because I promised on my life that I won’t talk about . . .
him.”
Felicia’s voice sunk to a whisper as she pronounced that last word.

Hallie looked her directly in the eye before she firmly closed the door. Though she believed Felicia, she couldn’t pretend to carry on a normal conversation until her questions were answered.

Images of Gus tormented her. Gus in his blue scarf on prom night, or regarding her with a mixture of skepticism and vulnerability that day she found him smoking in the church. The mute child, his hair askew from lying on his bed all day, looking at her with eyes that had swallowed the whole world and all its sorrow. Gus climbing the rickety ladder to the roof, the brightness of a starry night eclipsed by the yearning on his face.

No one would ever know him as well as she did. Nor would anyone else understand what the accident on the Point would do to him or where it would take him.
Fucked-up for life
. . . Neil had called him. Hallie shut out the words, her memory of Neil’s thick, sour breath.

Nick was surprised when she asked if she might have a phone installed in her room. Though he was glad that she was well enough to want something—
anything
—he balked. “You know I’d love to hear you talking to your friends the way you used to, but you also need to spend less time in your room. If you want to call from the kitchen, I promise not to listen in . . .”

But when Hallie continued to beg, he relented. “One caveat,” he said, when he entered the room with a slender phone. “Don’t try to contact the Silva boy. And no calls from his buddy, either.”

“I have nothing to say to Neil—not ever. But do you really think that anyone can keep me away from Gus? If you don’t want me to talk to him in your house, I’ll find another way.”

Nick, who was sitting at the table checking his schedule for the day, closed his appointment book and returned her gaze. “Don’t you understand? Gus will be in serious trouble if he speaks to you.”

“What happened that night was an accident, Nick. I’ve told you that—”

“Was it an accident what he did to Neil Gallagher’s face? Not that the
cuzo
didn’t deserve it. But Gus could have killed you, Hallie—whether he intended to or not,” Nick said softly. “The kid’s lucky he’s not in prison.
Damn
lucky.”

“So you’re saying he’s
not
in jail? Then where is he? Why won’t anyone tell me?”

Nick rose from the chair to go to the office as he did every day, but that morning he looked particularly tired. “If you try to call him, he won’t talk to you. Gus has . . . something else in his life now,
someone
else. He doesn’t want to see you.”

Someone else
—Gus? It was impossible. “That’s a lie!”

“I’m sorry, Hallie. I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, but sooner or later, you had to find out.”

Hallie refused the Valium he offered, and she pushed away the steaming cup that Aunt Del brought later.

“I don’t want tea, Aunt Del. I want answers. Gus
couldn’t—
” Hallie began before something she saw on Del’s face stopped her in mid-sentence. She realized she was shaking violently. This time, when she was offered the small blue pill, she accepted it.

The next day, though, she steeled herself and picked up the small white phone. In spite of what she’d promised her father, what she vowed to
herself
, the first number Hallie dialed was Neil’s. She still had no desire to talk to him, but if anyone would tell her what she needed to know, he would.

Neil seemed as shaken by her voice as she was by his. “Please, Hallie. Don’t hang up. I know I can never explain, but—”

“No, you can’t,” Hallie said, closing her eyes against the images that rose against her wishes. “You can never explain; and right now, it would probably kill me if you tried.”

The line went quiet.

Finally, Neil said, “Then why—” Then he stopped himself. “Of course. You’re calling to ask about Gus, and here I am thinking about myself again.”

Hallie’s head hurt. Was he being sincere or sarcastic? Somehow her brain couldn’t tell the difference anymore. Nick was right: it had been a mistake to call him.

Before she could put down the receiver, he spoke again, “I mean it, Hal. You’ve been through hell; you probably have no idea where Gus is; and the first thing I do is dump my guilt on you.”

“So you’ve talked to him, then? After everything that’s happened, you two—”

Neil hesitated. “It’s not the same, and it probably never will be if that’s what you want to know, but yeah, I had to see him.”

Not wanting to think about that reuinion, Hallie repeated what her father had said verbatim . . .
Gus has . . . someone else. He doesn’t
want to see you.
It had been so difficult to speak the words that she felt herself growing breathless, as if she’d run across the dunes. “It’s not true, is it, Gallagher?” she finally asked. “It can’t be true.”

At first, she thought Neil had put the phone down, or they’d lost their connection. But then she realized that the silence on the other end of the line was his answer.

She hung up, and waited for it to ring again, but the phone remained eerily silent. More than anything, Hallie needed to get out of bed and scale the ladder to her roof, where she could think. But when she opened the door to the third floor, she saw shadows of herself and Gus in every corner. It was as if she had stepped directly into that night of beginning, and experienced it again. Even her private church would be contaminated with Gus’s presence now. Exhausted, she stumbled back to her room and locked the door as if she’d been chased away by her own ghost.

Two days later, Neil finally called back. He didn’t bother with social niceties. “Gus wants to see you. Not now. And definitely not at your house. But when you’re strong enough to come out to the Point, he wants to talk to you one more time.”

“
One more time?
What are you saying, Gallagher?”

There was a long pause.

“He’s going away, Hal,” Neil finally said. “I’d say more, but I don’t really understand it myself. Anyway, he wants to be the one to tell you.”

Hallie felt a thickening in her throat. “God, Neil,
tell me
! Is he going to jail?” she asked, wondering if her father had lied to protect her.

“No, nothing like that. There wasn’t even a trial.”

“So they realized it was an accident?” Hallie was flooded with a mix of relief and confusion. If Gus wasn’t being physically kept from her, then why wasn’t he here?

“Not exactly, but he had a great lawyer; a couple of pillars of the community came forward to speak for him; and I certainly wasn’t going to testify against him. It could have gone a lot worse.”

“But he didn’t do anything wrong—” Hallie began, and then she thought of Neil, his lanky body unresisting, being smashed repeatedly onto the hood of the Jeep.