Chapter 8 by Fathiah Zarafi
I walked home feeling rather rejuvenated and light. Chayton made such a big impact on me that I couldn't shake off the memories of his voice and touch. A part of me felt bad and pitiful over Aiyana's story, how she may never wake up again due to other people's selfish behavior but another part of me was thankful that her story had opened my eyes towards my harmful behavior. I was wrapped up in reminiscing the moment, the mysterious strip of newspaper I read in the library completely left my mind.
As I stepped inside the house, I saw Mary Anne hunched over the dining table, flicking some papers in front of her. I was curious at first, since Mary Anne was a housewife and the documents she was reading looked more confidential.
"Mary Anne?" I started, "What are you doing?"
At the sound of my voice, Mary Anne jumped from her position and hastily shuffled the documents scattered all over the table.
"Adele, dear," Mary Anne smiled rather tightly, "I didn't hear you coming in. You're home late."
I headed to the kitchen to grab a water bottle while eyeing the yellow files inconspicuously. "I was over at my friend's. What do you have there, Mary Anne?" I asked casually.
She gathered the files in her arms and continued smiling at me which was bordering creepy. "Oh, just some old recipes I was going through," Mary Anne brushed off my question. Before I could ask any further, she scurried up to her room and I heard its lock turning. I couldn’t mask the frown on my face; clearly no recipe, no matter how sacred it is, was kept in a thick yellow document folder. That woman acted so mysterious at times. At that thought, another important thing I had postponed and forgotten ran through my mind. I wanted to do a little research on the newspaper article I came across today.
With that set in mind, I raced up the stairs to reach my room. Just as I arrived at the top floor, I was unexpectedly knocked onto my bottom ungracefully. This was the second time I was in this particular position and seeing it was Tristan who had bumped into me added to my grumpiness. I sprang up to me feet with much difficulty and shot a glare at him. We haven't talked since the incident at the backyard.
"Hey, wait up," Tristan called when I walked past him. I paused at the doorway of my room, eyeing him skeptically. He avoided my gaze and started rubbing his neck, a gesture I had come to know as nervousness.
"What, Tristan? Just spit it out," I snapped. His blue eyes finally met mine although very briefly.
"I'm sorry about the other night," Tristan blurted out quickly, "I was out of line." I couldn't believe my ears; he was apologizing to me? He was sincere, I could tell but I really didn't want to waste anymore time with petty conversations so I just nodded my approval at him before slamming the door shut. I pretended I didn't see the scandalized face Tristan wore.
The purple laptop I brought from home was switched on for the first time in a month. It was a little dusty at first, triggering a sneeze fit from me but it did its job of turning on quickly. I stiffened upon seeing the desktop image that was long forgotten on my laptop. My fingers absentmindedly traced the picture of our last family vacation. My red hair glistened underneath the Hawaiian sun and it blended in perfectly with my peach bikini. Father had on a clichéd floral print shirt that screamed tourist while little Sarah was adorable in her pink one-piece. All four of us had huge grins on our faces; it was the best vacation I had gone to. Little did I know that the rug would be pulled from under my feet in mere days.
The beep from the laptop interrupted my little reminiscing. I shook my head to rid of the memories before focusing back on my task. After connecting to the internet, I typed Ronald DeHeart on Google. Dozens of articles popped up but one in particular caught my attention.
Ronald DeHeart's death: Accident or Conspiracy?
My heart sped up once I clicked on the article. I had to squint my eyes in order to read the rows of words that clashed blindly against its dark background.
Augusta was shocked with the news of the death of its leading scientist, Ronald DeHeart, last week. The media portrayed the tragic death as a horrifying accident which resulted in the explosion of the laboratory. However, kiths of DeHeart were skeptical with the information, stating that the truth was masked behind lies. Mary Anne DeHeart, widow of the late DeHeart spoke to us in hysteric tears.
"Ronald is a brilliant scientist and an observant man. He had never committed a single mistake in the 10 years as a scientist at Fischer and Co. He couldn't have made that experiment explode," said Mary Anne.
"Why is my husband dead while (Jonathan), who was with him that night, was unharmed? Something is not right here."
When asked about her fate as a single mother to an infant son, Mary Anne burst into sobs.
"I am a housewife in a small town; my son is only 3 months old. There is no way for me to find a job. Who's going to support us now?"
Indeed, Ronald DeHeart's death still remains a mystery. Fischer and Co.'s representatives refused to comment on this incident, fueling the flames of our doubts more. Let the flames begin.
I had to re-read the article a few times but my mind refused to comprehend. Did this man die in father's hands? Was it all really a conspiracy or just an honest accident? I couldn't understand why father has never told me about this. I got up to my feet and began pacing the small room; nothing made sense anymore! If only I had someone, just anybody, to tell me the truth for once. As quickly as I thought that, I dove for my phone at the nightstand and dialed Mr. Charles' number. He had given me his cell phone number during my visit to the hospital.
I drummed my finger impatiently on the duvet while waiting for him to pick up. On the fifth dial, I could finally hear Mr. Charles on the other end.
"Mr. Charles?" I started, "This is Adele. Can we meet up?"
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Once the occupants of the house had gone to their respective beds, I quietly snuck out of the house and waited for Mr. Charles at the school's bus stop. The chilly midnight air gnawed at my flesh even through the thick coat I adorned. I pulled the fuzzy hood over my head and silently prayed for Mr. Charles to arrive early before I die of hypothermia. After what seemed like a freezing eternity, I could make out a glimpse of a figure approaching me. As he got closer, Mr. Charles' bearded face could barely be seen underneath the bundle of hat, scarves and jacket on his body. I remained silent until he took on a seat on the cold bench next to me.
"Mr. Charles," I started, "I saw something that's confusing and impossible to comprehend of."
"What is it, Adele?" his voice was a mixture of calm and gravely. I stared at Mr. Charles deadpanned in the eye.
"I read the news about Mary Anne's late husband, Ronald DeHeart. Was my father in any part of this?"
Mr. Charles suspired heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand. I shivered from both the cold and anticipation. Beneath the dim light of the street lamp, the wrinkles on his face were more prominent, especially the lines on his forehead that indicated years of burden and frowning.
"Adele, before I tell you what you came to know, you must learn something about me first," Mr. Charles spoke. From the tone of his voice, I could tell it was a serious matter. I nodded my head as a gesture that I was listening.
"My name real, Adele, is James Fischer. I'm your father's brother."
My mouth dropped in shock. I frantically searched my brain for any indicator that I had an uncle in all the 16 years I've lived, but nothing resurfaced.
"What—but, I don't have any uncle!" I spluttered out. Mr. Charles—James, I don't know what to call him any longer, smiled sadly at the horizon. There was so much raw emotion reflected in his eyes, something that I found truly bizarre since he was always so guarded.
"That's the price I had to pay as a CIA agent," he said softly, "I was constantly changing identities and my home revolves around the world. I had to give up my old life and my family to keep them from harm. I've never even seen my nieces."
We were surrounded by silence fleetingly while I processed the information. I wouldn't lie; it was such a foreign feeling to discover that you had a relative when you've thought that you were all alone in this world. I didn't know whether to feel blessed or afraid.
"Um," I started, "so how did you know about my—situation?"
James—such a weird name rolling off of my tongue—never tore his eyes from the darkness of the horizon. He was still adorning that sad, pitiful smile on his face.
"Your father knew about the dangers he was about to face. He wrote me a letter, asking me to take care of you and your sister if anything happened. I'm here to fulfill my promise to your father."
I lowered my head to hide the onslaught of tears. Father's smiling face filled my mind instantly and I recalled him embracing me before I left for my junior prom. He rubbed my hair and whispered his love to my ear. I thought nothing of his actions that night but as I got home from prom, I was horrified to find that everything was so horribly ruined.
I rubbed my eyes with that scarf wrapped around my neck. Turning towards James, I was about to ask him about the article once more but froze when he reached into his pocket and pulled out his vibrating cell phone.
"Agent Fisher speaking. Uh huh. You've got the evidence? I'll be right there."
He turned to me, his emotions once again masked behind in an act he had mastered over the years.
"Adele, I have to go. Go home now and do not, I repeat, do not inform anybody of me. As far as the town knows, I am just your algebra teacher. Understood?" James ordered. I nodded my head hastily and frowned at his retreating back.
"Wait!" I hollered, "What about the article!"
James looked back but never stopping his steps. He held up a finger, a sign that meant as 'later'. I huffed out my disappointment and headed back home. During the short journey, the effect of James' news finally hit me. My life was a lie; I didn't even know who I was anymore. How much longer was I supposed to carry on living as Adele?
I arrived in my room, trembling with overwhelming emotions. My fingers instinctively reached for the bottle of my sleeping pills but I recalled that I had thrown them out after leaving Chayton's house. So all I could do was lay on the carpeted floor, curled in a fetal position. No tears came, not even emotions. I was numbed to my core and I welcomed it gladly.
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I could feel the tenderness of my eyes as I fought against exhaustion during Algebra. Mr. Charles—James, whatever—was still on his leave so the relief teacher was teaching with his monotone voice today. Just as I was about to surrender to sleep, I felt a poke on my side. Turning around sluggishly, I saw Chayton staring at me.
"Hey, are you okay?" he whispered. My answer was cut off by the ringing of the bell. I gathered my books and headed for the door, as did the other students. As I stepped outside the classroom, I glanced back to search for Chayton who had gone missing in the mob of students scurrying out. In the process, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and bumped into someone. I didn't what was with me and running smack into people. My books dropped haphazardly onto the floor.
"Walk, much?" I glanced up to see none other than Gina glaring down at me. As she stepped over me, I heard her whisper to her goons about me being 'a freak'.
Chayton appeared in front of me and helped me to my feet. "That girl got some serious issues," he muttered. We walked in silence to the cafeteria for lunch with Chayton glancing down at me every few moments.
I wasn't feeling up to eating so I sat on the usual table where we sat with Chayton's friends. They had come to accept me as one of them; I didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing. Unexpectedly, Chayton sat next to me without racing to the food.
"Adele, tell me the truth," his voice dropped to a whispered, "Are you still taking them."
"No, Chayton," I exasperated, "I threw them out as soon as I got home." Chayton frowned at me in confusion.
"Then what's bothering you?" I decided that playing coy with Chayton was just a waste of time since he could see right through me.
"I'm just," I started but was interrupted by a loud belching followed by high fives from the boys. A loud groan escaped my lips and I threw my head back in annoyance. The fact that I didn't sleep a wink last night drove my patience short.
"God, I really need more girl friends," I complained. Chayton's eyes squinted at my sudden outburst.
"Is that why you're upset? Because you don't have enough—girl friends? To tell you the truth, Adele, girls in this school are kind of trashy. You wouldn't want to hang with them."
"No, Chayton," I sighed, averting my gaze to the fabric of me jeans, "let's just forget about it, okay."
I could tell that Chayton was getting tired of my excuses even though he never showed it. He rubbed his face a few times, inhaling deeply. I kept my eyes fixed downwards to keep from feeling guilty.
"Listen. I have a performance at this coffee shop downtown tonight. Would you like to come?"
My head snapped to his in surprise. "Performance? You sing?" I asked slowly. A smile reappeared on his face, showing off that tiny dimple on his cheek.
"Yeah, have been for a while now. I can't let my mom support me the whole way, you know."
I nodded in agreement, deciding to follow him so it would distract me from reality. "So um, how do you propose I go there?"
"I—pick you up? I'll be there before eight," he offered.
"Sure," I offered him a smile that I wasn't even sure myself.
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I waited for Chayton on the front porch, all bundled up in my coat. Tristan narrowed his eyes uncharateristically at me when I told him I was going out with Chayton. Mary Anne was once again no where to be found and it was a little strange when Tristan wasn't bothered even the slightest about his mother's constant disappearance. I glanced at my wristwatch; five minutes till eight.
As soon as I dropped my hand, I heard the rumbling of an engine and the screech of the tires as it stopped in front of the house. I was suddenly attacked by a wave of memory when my date picked me up for my junior prom. The honking of the car brought me back to reality. Chayton was hollering my name and I rushed to the passenger side.
He glanced at me funnily before speeding off. We rode in silence much to my surprise since Chayton was such a blabber mouth. I brushed it off as nervousness over his upcoming performance. We arrived at Uncle Joe's Coffee House after a half an hour drive. Chayton slung his guitar case as I carefully maneuvered my way on the icy road.
I was mildly amazed at the number of people who had showed up for the shop's weekly Friday night shows. Chayton parted with me to head to the backstage while I took a seat in a corner.
After a few gothic poem recitals and rather somber singings, I was beginning to think that maybe Chayton had fooled me into believing he was performing tonight. I was about to get up and search for him when the lights suddenly dimmed. I glanced to the makeshift stage and said boy was now perched on a stool with his guitar cradled to his lap. As his fingers began stroking the strings, I was mesmerized but his voice was the one that captivated me the most.
Oh, why you look so sad?
Tears are in your eyes
Come on and come to me now
Don't be ashamed to cry
Let me see you through
'Cause I've seen the dark side too
When the night falls on you
You don't know what to do
Nothing you confess, could make me love you less
I'll stand by you, I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
So, if you're mad, get mad
Don't hold it all inside
Come on and talk to me now
Hey, what you got to hide?
I get angry too
Well I'm a lot like you
When you're standing at the crossroads
And don't know which path to choose
Let me come along
'Cause even if you're wrong
I'll stand by you, I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And I'll never desert you
I'll stand by you
And when, when the night falls on you, baby
You're feelin' all alone
You won't be on your own
I'll stand by you, I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And I'll never desert you
I'll stand by you, I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
Yeah
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
No, no, no, no, no
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And I'll never desert you
I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Tears that I thought had long dried danced at my vision. He stared at me during the whole song with an unreadable expression on his face. I lowered my head when the tears spilled over the edges of my eyes. The song showed the loyalty and compassion that only Chayton could offer. I knew he will be expecting some explanation afterwards but somehow, after listening to him, I wasn't scared anymore.
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