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Open Your Eyes
by paula h
Jarod is dead. I keep repeating it to myself, but I can’t seem to believe it. His laugh still echoes in my mind. That stupid grin still appears each time I close my eyes.
[Tears slip out of Parker’s eyes. She presses the heels of her hands into her eyelids to stop them. She opens her eyes and wipes at her cheek with the back of her hand, then the sleeve of her robe.
She picks up a glass and swallows the quarter-inch of Scotch in the bottom. She pours another glass from the half empty bottle and takes a mouthful for good measure.]
I don’t think I wanted to kill him, not really. I just wanted him to stop. Stop grinning, stop running, stop telling me truths.
He smiled and told me, "We’ve got to stop meeting like this." Stupid line. The man could understand nuclear physics and made stupid comments like that. We were on the edge of a wharf, closed for construction, in the middle of the night, in New York City. I don’t know why he was there. We never found his hiding place.
I had my gun pointed at him but he ignored it. "Come with me," he said as he ducked through the fence. I wanted to wait for the sweepers, they were behind as usual, but I followed him, like a sheep... a foolish little sheep.
[She takes another drink.]
Inside the fence, Jarod retrieved a small folder from beside a shed. He held it out to me. "This is for you."
"Does it explode?"
"In a way. It’s information about your father."
"Something you want me to see." A statement, not a question.
"You need to open your eyes."
I didn’t want to; I was right. I heard the sweepers at the fence. I fired a shot over Jarod’s head to get their attention. He didn’t even duck. He threw the packet to me. I let it hit the ground. He looked at me, then turned and ran.
The sweepers went pounding after Jarod. I walked down the center of the wharf. I knew he wasn’t done talking. Let him come to me.
He did. So predictable.
"Are we alone again?" He was smiling again.
"Not for long."
"Long enough. Do you want to know the truth about your father?"
"Your version?"
"His only truth: The Centre is All. It is above the law because it serves a higher purpose. The Centre must be protected even if it means the death of everyone you love and everyone they love. Your father said, ‘It will all add up in the end’"
"Exactly what are you trying to say?"
"Your father knew your mother was marked for death. He could have protected her, sent her away, finished her work, but he did nothing."
"He didn’t know what she was doing."
"Didn’t he?" He stood there looking at me with those black eyes.
"My father loved my mother."
"How can you love someone and permit their assassination?"
"Liar."
"He thinks he did it to protect you. The same way he protected you by agreeing to Thomas’s termination."
"LIAR!"
I shot at him. The bullet went over his shoulder; I wanted to aim lower. Jarod turned and ran, through scaffolding, around crates, over beams and trash. The sweepers and I ran after him, circled him and forced him out onto a crane hanging over the river.
"Climb back in, Jarod," I yelled from the wharf. "You have no choice."
"There are always choices, Parker." he yelled back. He climbed down a heavy chain and started it swinging. It looked like he was trying to reach another crane to his left.
"You’ll never make it, Jarod. Give up before you kill yourself."
"Have I had a life?" He wanted to make me feel guilty. He was good at that, making me feel guilty for his life, for mine; distracting me.
Suddenly, he shifted on the chain; swinging it harder in a different arc, toward the wharf where I was standing. I looked down. There was a platform hanging from the wharf by ropes. There was another rope from the platform to a small boat in the river. Nice plan. I wasn’t about to let it be that easy. I grabbed the end of a rope and pulled. He saw me and laughed. He didn’t think I could get it loose; neither did I. I called the sweepers and kept on pulling.
Jarod was swinging harder. He reached for the ropes; he missed. He tried again; he was almost there. The sweepers would never get here in time. I pulled out my gun and emptied the clip into the rope where it went over the edge of the wharf. It unraveled, but held. I switched clips.
Jarod saw what I was trying to do, and laughed again. He yelled up at me, "The Truth, Parker, see the truth."
"Shut up," I growled as I aimed the gun at him.
"Open your eyes," he hollered. He let go of the chain and jumped onto the platform.
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" I screamed, and emptied the second clip into the rope. His weight hit the planks; the rope broke; the platform collapsed. Jarod grabbed for the other ropes but he couldn’t get a hold. I saw him falling but couldn't see where he fell.
The sweeper on the crane thought he saw Jarod hit the river. We searched for an hour before we gave up. I called for a cleaner team, they’re better at finding bodies.
On the way out, I stepped over the folder Jarod had tried to give me. I turned around, picked it up and threw it into the car. We left.
I put the whole thing out of my mind for weeks. I half expected Jarod to call and complain about getting wet. But there have been no calls. Sydney made some attempts at being comforting, but he’s devastated. He said things like "Now Jarod will be free," and other crap like that.
[Parker finishes off the glass of Scotch.]
They haven’t found the body yet. Raines said it will "pop up" some day. What a ghoul.
I was fine; I kept moving and working; I didn’t think about him or what he said. Yesterday, I made a mistake. I thought about the things Jarod said about my father. I looked at my mother’s picture. She said "Trust can kill you or it can set you free." I trusted Jarod, and opened the folder.
There were papers inside incriminating my father in illicit deals. Nothing that affected me; nothing I couldn’t live with. There were two DSAs, one dated the day of my mother’s death; another from the day before Thomas was killed. I knew I should throw them away, but I put the older one in a DSA reader.
The scene was my father’s office. I watched Raines demand that my father control my mother, or he would. He told Daddy to choose The Centre and "all it means" or his family.
Daddy said, "Don’t touch my daughter!"
Raines said, "Not if you don’t interfere." Then he walked out of the room.
My father sat down at his desk and cried. He cried...but he didn’t save her. How can I accept that?
I put in the other DSA. Same angle. My father was talking with Lyle.
"I tried to bribe him," Daddy said. "It didn’t work."
Lyle answered, "You know what Raines said."
"I know. I gave your sister back her gun. At least she can protect herself; possibly him. He’s leaving in a couple of days. Distance can make you forget. I’ll talk to her again after he’s gone."
"And if that doesn’t work?"
"If she leaves, Raines will have her terminated. I can’t loose her too. If I can’t convince her to stay, Thomas will have to die."
Thomas had to die. My mother had to die. Jarod had to die. And here I sit, with nothing and no one, because of The Centre. The Damned Centre.
[Parker pours another glassful of Scotch. She chugs what’s left in the bottle.]
There’s a knock at the door. It takes her two tries to stand. She walks carefully to the door and opens it.
"Lyle! What a pleasant surprise. What brings you out in the sunlight?"
"Family. You didn’t show up at work this morning; you haven’t been answering the phone; Dad’s concerned. Syd told him you might be feeling guilty over Jarod’s recent demise."
"What would you, or your father, know about guilt?"
"Enough not to wallow in it. You’re drunk."
"Barely. It’s no wonder you came to work at The Centre, Fruit of my Father’s Loins. The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the rotting tree."
"If you’re done slaughtering clichés, I’m supposed to drive you in to see Dad, so he can be sure you’re alright. Then I’m supposed to take you to the family’s cabin in Vermont."
"If I won’t go, are ya gonna shoot me?" Parker holds her arms out and backs into the room.
Lyle looks at her and the empty bottle. "Just how much have you had to drink?"
"Not nearly enough." Parker drains the glass in two gulps.
Parker dresses and packs a few things, too drunk to give Lyle much of a fight. She sobers by the time she walks into her father’s office.
I look up at the spot where the DSA recorder must be hidden. How fitting that it should also record my father’s death and then my own. My death on DSAs, just like Jarod’s life.
Daddy walks in and hugs me. I reach for my gun but don’t touch it. I can’t kill him. Even when I know what he really is, what he’s done, I can’t hate him enough to kill him. I still love him. God, I’m weak...like my mother...like a sheep. I burst into tears, and he comforts me. He tells me he’s having Lyle drive me to the cabin. Maybe he knows what I know. Maybe he’ll have Lyle kill me. No, he tells me I’m his Angel, I’m tough; resilient; a Parker. Everything I don’t want to be anymore.
So I do what he says and follow Lyle, silently, like a sheep.
[By the time Lyle drops Parker off at the cabin it is night, dark and moonless. Lyle barely gives her time to get on the porch before he turns around and leaves.]
I can make out the trees around the clearing in the light from Lyle’s headlights. Neither of us said more than two words on the way up here. This was his first trip, but he doesn’t seem interested in my nostalgia .
I remember this place; it’s familiar even in the dark. I remember my mother and father here. They were always smiling and joking. I remember one time Mommy was laughing, and Daddy was chasing her around the picnic table. He caught her and carried her down the path to the small dock. She was screaming and kicking. He threw her into the lake and jumped in after her. They laughed and splashed, and then they kissed. We were happy.
I can’t see the path in the dark. I wish I could see the lake.
[Parker walks into the cabin. A light is on and everything is stocked and ready, even the liquor cabinet. She drinks the better part of a bottle of Armagnac, and falls asleep on the couch untill dawn.]
It must be morning; some stupid bird is singing right outside the window. I think I’ll have to go shut it up.
[Parker picks up her gun and walks onto the porch, into the hazy sunshine.]
It’s July, but the air here isn’t very warm. It’s full of mist; the sunlight sparkles in it. There is a shimmer from the lake through the trees.
The bird flies past, a bright blue jewel, and I remember the gun in my hand. Someone used this gun to kill Thomas. I miss him so much. I used it to kill Jarod. I miss him too. I didn’t shoot him but I wanted him to fall, to be silent, to leave me alone. And here I am...alone. Be careful what you wish. I look at the gun for a long time, trying to decide if I want to use it.
Finally, I put it down and go back into the cabin. I pour another brandy and walk back out. Is that what I want? To join Jarod. He told me I had to see the truth. Did he know what the truth would do to me? I look down at the gun; I feel my shaking hand reach for it; I stop myself. I have to get away from it. I can never get away from Jarod or the truth.
I cross the clearing and walk through the trees, until I come to the lake. It is small and private; a clear, deep blue verging on black. There are waterlilies blooming on the far side. I think I’d like to take a closer look. I walk around the shore to the right. The ground is swampy and my heels are worse than useless. I take them off and step into the water. It’s cold around my ankles, clean and sharp. I’ve been dreaming my way through the last couple of days; maybe the water can wake me up.
I walk a little farther and the water gets deeper. When it reaches my knees I return to the spot where I stepped in. I finish off the brandy, then take off my clothes and hang them across a bush. There’s no one here to see me. I’m alone, always alone.
I walk slowly into the lake. My feet are numb but that doesn’t bother me. The water creeps up my calves. It swirles around my thighs, then over my hips. The bottom falls away and I swim to the lilies. They float like stars in the cold dark night. They are perfect.
It doesn’t look like a long swim back to the dock. I duck under the water and start strong slow strokes. As I cross the middle, I open my eyes to the black stillness under the water.
I’m tired. Too tired to swim any more. I roll over onto my back and look at the sky. All I can see is soft blue haze. All I can hear is the silence of the water. The icy clarity of the lake has seeped into my bones. I know I should move, should swim to shore, but it’s too hard. It seems unnecessary. This is so peaceful.
I close my eyes and I can see Jarod falling toward the river. I think I knew before I came here, that I would follow him into the water. I know I’m going to drown, to die, and I’m not frightened. I will be free.
There is a kind of weight on my shoulders, pulling them down. I can feel Jarod coming to take me into the darkness. I won’t resist. I let myself sink and slowly turn to embrace him. I let myself sink and feel my hair floating up. I exhale and float down.
Suddenly, something lifts me up and my face breaks into the air. I feel disoriented, unreal. I open my eyes...and see Jarod. Then I see nothing.
"Welcome back to life, Parker. It's good to see you open your eyes." Jarod is sitting next to me. I’m laying on the couch in the cabin, wrapped in towels and blankets. I’m almost warm.
"You’re alive," I say stupidly. I’m amazed that he’s alive; that I’m alive. "You’re ALIVE!" I can feel anger warming me, much more than the blankets. "You lied to me!"
He’s confused, "About your father? That was all true."
"I thought I killed you!" I punch him in the shoulder. I mean it to hurt but there’s little strength behind it.
"Oh, that," he shrugs, "I didn’t mean to fake my death but you were trying so hard to kill me that I decided to let you think you did." There’s that stupid grin. "It was just supposed to be another miraculous escape." He paused, "I guess the trip here means you watched the DSAs?"
The hopelessness returns. I lay back on the couch. "I watched them. Your job is done. Now, why don’t you leave me alone. I’m tired."
"Tired enough to die?" He looks serious now.
"That was the general idea." Tired unto death; I just want to close my eyes.
"This being dead stuff isn’t so bad, you know. No one chasing you; no one shooting at you; or dropping you into rivers...."
I just look at him. His smile disappears.
"No one telling you where you can and can’t go."
"What are you doing here?" I close my eyes.
"Following you for a change. I forced the truth on you, Parker, I couldn’t leave you with nothing and disappear. I know what it’s like to be alone."
"Here and I thought we had the hate/hate thing going. What now?"
"Now I decide how I live. I may haunt The Centre; or return from the dead; or stay gone. You need to decide how you want to live."
"Do I want to live? I can't remember."
"You want to live." He sounds so sure. I try to open my eyes but it's too much effort. He pushes the damp hair away from my face. "I’m not going away until you remember."
It almost sounds like a threat.
by paula h
Jarod is dead. I keep repeating it to myself, but I can’t seem to believe it. His laugh still echoes in my mind. That stupid grin still appears each time I close my eyes.
[Tears slip out of Parker’s eyes. She presses the heels of her hands into her eyelids to stop them. She opens her eyes and wipes at her cheek with the back of her hand, then the sleeve of her robe.
She picks up a glass and swallows the quarter-inch of Scotch in the bottom. She pours another glass from the half empty bottle and takes a mouthful for good measure.]
I don’t think I wanted to kill him, not really. I just wanted him to stop. Stop grinning, stop running, stop telling me truths.
He smiled and told me, "We’ve got to stop meeting like this." Stupid line. The man could understand nuclear physics and made stupid comments like that. We were on the edge of a wharf, closed for construction, in the middle of the night, in New York City. I don’t know why he was there. We never found his hiding place.
I had my gun pointed at him but he ignored it. "Come with me," he said as he ducked through the fence. I wanted to wait for the sweepers, they were behind as usual, but I followed him, like a sheep... a foolish little sheep.
[She takes another drink.]
Inside the fence, Jarod retrieved a small folder from beside a shed. He held it out to me. "This is for you."
"Does it explode?"
"In a way. It’s information about your father."
"Something you want me to see." A statement, not a question.
"You need to open your eyes."
I didn’t want to; I was right. I heard the sweepers at the fence. I fired a shot over Jarod’s head to get their attention. He didn’t even duck. He threw the packet to me. I let it hit the ground. He looked at me, then turned and ran.
The sweepers went pounding after Jarod. I walked down the center of the wharf. I knew he wasn’t done talking. Let him come to me.
He did. So predictable.
"Are we alone again?" He was smiling again.
"Not for long."
"Long enough. Do you want to know the truth about your father?"
"Your version?"
"His only truth: The Centre is All. It is above the law because it serves a higher purpose. The Centre must be protected even if it means the death of everyone you love and everyone they love. Your father said, ‘It will all add up in the end’"
"Exactly what are you trying to say?"
"Your father knew your mother was marked for death. He could have protected her, sent her away, finished her work, but he did nothing."
"He didn’t know what she was doing."
"Didn’t he?" He stood there looking at me with those black eyes.
"My father loved my mother."
"How can you love someone and permit their assassination?"
"Liar."
"He thinks he did it to protect you. The same way he protected you by agreeing to Thomas’s termination."
"LIAR!"
I shot at him. The bullet went over his shoulder; I wanted to aim lower. Jarod turned and ran, through scaffolding, around crates, over beams and trash. The sweepers and I ran after him, circled him and forced him out onto a crane hanging over the river.
"Climb back in, Jarod," I yelled from the wharf. "You have no choice."
"There are always choices, Parker." he yelled back. He climbed down a heavy chain and started it swinging. It looked like he was trying to reach another crane to his left.
"You’ll never make it, Jarod. Give up before you kill yourself."
"Have I had a life?" He wanted to make me feel guilty. He was good at that, making me feel guilty for his life, for mine; distracting me.
Suddenly, he shifted on the chain; swinging it harder in a different arc, toward the wharf where I was standing. I looked down. There was a platform hanging from the wharf by ropes. There was another rope from the platform to a small boat in the river. Nice plan. I wasn’t about to let it be that easy. I grabbed the end of a rope and pulled. He saw me and laughed. He didn’t think I could get it loose; neither did I. I called the sweepers and kept on pulling.
Jarod was swinging harder. He reached for the ropes; he missed. He tried again; he was almost there. The sweepers would never get here in time. I pulled out my gun and emptied the clip into the rope where it went over the edge of the wharf. It unraveled, but held. I switched clips.
Jarod saw what I was trying to do, and laughed again. He yelled up at me, "The Truth, Parker, see the truth."
"Shut up," I growled as I aimed the gun at him.
"Open your eyes," he hollered. He let go of the chain and jumped onto the platform.
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" I screamed, and emptied the second clip into the rope. His weight hit the planks; the rope broke; the platform collapsed. Jarod grabbed for the other ropes but he couldn’t get a hold. I saw him falling but couldn't see where he fell.
The sweeper on the crane thought he saw Jarod hit the river. We searched for an hour before we gave up. I called for a cleaner team, they’re better at finding bodies.
On the way out, I stepped over the folder Jarod had tried to give me. I turned around, picked it up and threw it into the car. We left.
I put the whole thing out of my mind for weeks. I half expected Jarod to call and complain about getting wet. But there have been no calls. Sydney made some attempts at being comforting, but he’s devastated. He said things like "Now Jarod will be free," and other crap like that.
[Parker finishes off the glass of Scotch.]
They haven’t found the body yet. Raines said it will "pop up" some day. What a ghoul.
I was fine; I kept moving and working; I didn’t think about him or what he said. Yesterday, I made a mistake. I thought about the things Jarod said about my father. I looked at my mother’s picture. She said "Trust can kill you or it can set you free." I trusted Jarod, and opened the folder.
There were papers inside incriminating my father in illicit deals. Nothing that affected me; nothing I couldn’t live with. There were two DSAs, one dated the day of my mother’s death; another from the day before Thomas was killed. I knew I should throw them away, but I put the older one in a DSA reader.
The scene was my father’s office. I watched Raines demand that my father control my mother, or he would. He told Daddy to choose The Centre and "all it means" or his family.
Daddy said, "Don’t touch my daughter!"
Raines said, "Not if you don’t interfere." Then he walked out of the room.
My father sat down at his desk and cried. He cried...but he didn’t save her. How can I accept that?
I put in the other DSA. Same angle. My father was talking with Lyle.
"I tried to bribe him," Daddy said. "It didn’t work."
Lyle answered, "You know what Raines said."
"I know. I gave your sister back her gun. At least she can protect herself; possibly him. He’s leaving in a couple of days. Distance can make you forget. I’ll talk to her again after he’s gone."
"And if that doesn’t work?"
"If she leaves, Raines will have her terminated. I can’t loose her too. If I can’t convince her to stay, Thomas will have to die."
Thomas had to die. My mother had to die. Jarod had to die. And here I sit, with nothing and no one, because of The Centre. The Damned Centre.
[Parker pours another glassful of Scotch. She chugs what’s left in the bottle.]
There’s a knock at the door. It takes her two tries to stand. She walks carefully to the door and opens it.
"Lyle! What a pleasant surprise. What brings you out in the sunlight?"
"Family. You didn’t show up at work this morning; you haven’t been answering the phone; Dad’s concerned. Syd told him you might be feeling guilty over Jarod’s recent demise."
"What would you, or your father, know about guilt?"
"Enough not to wallow in it. You’re drunk."
"Barely. It’s no wonder you came to work at The Centre, Fruit of my Father’s Loins. The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the rotting tree."
"If you’re done slaughtering clichés, I’m supposed to drive you in to see Dad, so he can be sure you’re alright. Then I’m supposed to take you to the family’s cabin in Vermont."
"If I won’t go, are ya gonna shoot me?" Parker holds her arms out and backs into the room.
Lyle looks at her and the empty bottle. "Just how much have you had to drink?"
"Not nearly enough." Parker drains the glass in two gulps.
Parker dresses and packs a few things, too drunk to give Lyle much of a fight. She sobers by the time she walks into her father’s office.
I look up at the spot where the DSA recorder must be hidden. How fitting that it should also record my father’s death and then my own. My death on DSAs, just like Jarod’s life.
Daddy walks in and hugs me. I reach for my gun but don’t touch it. I can’t kill him. Even when I know what he really is, what he’s done, I can’t hate him enough to kill him. I still love him. God, I’m weak...like my mother...like a sheep. I burst into tears, and he comforts me. He tells me he’s having Lyle drive me to the cabin. Maybe he knows what I know. Maybe he’ll have Lyle kill me. No, he tells me I’m his Angel, I’m tough; resilient; a Parker. Everything I don’t want to be anymore.
So I do what he says and follow Lyle, silently, like a sheep.
[By the time Lyle drops Parker off at the cabin it is night, dark and moonless. Lyle barely gives her time to get on the porch before he turns around and leaves.]
I can make out the trees around the clearing in the light from Lyle’s headlights. Neither of us said more than two words on the way up here. This was his first trip, but he doesn’t seem interested in my nostalgia .
I remember this place; it’s familiar even in the dark. I remember my mother and father here. They were always smiling and joking. I remember one time Mommy was laughing, and Daddy was chasing her around the picnic table. He caught her and carried her down the path to the small dock. She was screaming and kicking. He threw her into the lake and jumped in after her. They laughed and splashed, and then they kissed. We were happy.
I can’t see the path in the dark. I wish I could see the lake.
[Parker walks into the cabin. A light is on and everything is stocked and ready, even the liquor cabinet. She drinks the better part of a bottle of Armagnac, and falls asleep on the couch untill dawn.]
It must be morning; some stupid bird is singing right outside the window. I think I’ll have to go shut it up.
[Parker picks up her gun and walks onto the porch, into the hazy sunshine.]
It’s July, but the air here isn’t very warm. It’s full of mist; the sunlight sparkles in it. There is a shimmer from the lake through the trees.
The bird flies past, a bright blue jewel, and I remember the gun in my hand. Someone used this gun to kill Thomas. I miss him so much. I used it to kill Jarod. I miss him too. I didn’t shoot him but I wanted him to fall, to be silent, to leave me alone. And here I am...alone. Be careful what you wish. I look at the gun for a long time, trying to decide if I want to use it.
Finally, I put it down and go back into the cabin. I pour another brandy and walk back out. Is that what I want? To join Jarod. He told me I had to see the truth. Did he know what the truth would do to me? I look down at the gun; I feel my shaking hand reach for it; I stop myself. I have to get away from it. I can never get away from Jarod or the truth.
I cross the clearing and walk through the trees, until I come to the lake. It is small and private; a clear, deep blue verging on black. There are waterlilies blooming on the far side. I think I’d like to take a closer look. I walk around the shore to the right. The ground is swampy and my heels are worse than useless. I take them off and step into the water. It’s cold around my ankles, clean and sharp. I’ve been dreaming my way through the last couple of days; maybe the water can wake me up.
I walk a little farther and the water gets deeper. When it reaches my knees I return to the spot where I stepped in. I finish off the brandy, then take off my clothes and hang them across a bush. There’s no one here to see me. I’m alone, always alone.
I walk slowly into the lake. My feet are numb but that doesn’t bother me. The water creeps up my calves. It swirles around my thighs, then over my hips. The bottom falls away and I swim to the lilies. They float like stars in the cold dark night. They are perfect.
It doesn’t look like a long swim back to the dock. I duck under the water and start strong slow strokes. As I cross the middle, I open my eyes to the black stillness under the water.
I’m tired. Too tired to swim any more. I roll over onto my back and look at the sky. All I can see is soft blue haze. All I can hear is the silence of the water. The icy clarity of the lake has seeped into my bones. I know I should move, should swim to shore, but it’s too hard. It seems unnecessary. This is so peaceful.
I close my eyes and I can see Jarod falling toward the river. I think I knew before I came here, that I would follow him into the water. I know I’m going to drown, to die, and I’m not frightened. I will be free.
There is a kind of weight on my shoulders, pulling them down. I can feel Jarod coming to take me into the darkness. I won’t resist. I let myself sink and slowly turn to embrace him. I let myself sink and feel my hair floating up. I exhale and float down.
Suddenly, something lifts me up and my face breaks into the air. I feel disoriented, unreal. I open my eyes...and see Jarod. Then I see nothing.
"Welcome back to life, Parker. It's good to see you open your eyes." Jarod is sitting next to me. I’m laying on the couch in the cabin, wrapped in towels and blankets. I’m almost warm.
"You’re alive," I say stupidly. I’m amazed that he’s alive; that I’m alive. "You’re ALIVE!" I can feel anger warming me, much more than the blankets. "You lied to me!"
He’s confused, "About your father? That was all true."
"I thought I killed you!" I punch him in the shoulder. I mean it to hurt but there’s little strength behind it.
"Oh, that," he shrugs, "I didn’t mean to fake my death but you were trying so hard to kill me that I decided to let you think you did." There’s that stupid grin. "It was just supposed to be another miraculous escape." He paused, "I guess the trip here means you watched the DSAs?"
The hopelessness returns. I lay back on the couch. "I watched them. Your job is done. Now, why don’t you leave me alone. I’m tired."
"Tired enough to die?" He looks serious now.
"That was the general idea." Tired unto death; I just want to close my eyes.
"This being dead stuff isn’t so bad, you know. No one chasing you; no one shooting at you; or dropping you into rivers...."
I just look at him. His smile disappears.
"No one telling you where you can and can’t go."
"What are you doing here?" I close my eyes.
"Following you for a change. I forced the truth on you, Parker, I couldn’t leave you with nothing and disappear. I know what it’s like to be alone."
"Here and I thought we had the hate/hate thing going. What now?"
"Now I decide how I live. I may haunt The Centre; or return from the dead; or stay gone. You need to decide how you want to live."
"Do I want to live? I can't remember."
"You want to live." He sounds so sure. I try to open my eyes but it's too much effort. He pushes the damp hair away from my face. "I’m not going away until you remember."
It almost sounds like a threat.
