Topic: Home

Canaan · Date: 2014-11-16 10:48 EST

In the deep south, we tend to bury our dead above the ground. Petra took me to the place where they laid what was left of his body. My name was etched in the stone next to his. She never told me they killed me, too, but that shouldn?t have surprised me. There needed to be a story that explained my disappearance. They could have said I left, ran away; killing me was kind to our family. When someone?s just missing, there?s always the hope they will come back. At least with death, you?re not left wondering. It?s final. They?re never coming back.

Yet here I was. Hidden by magic, of course. But it was odd to stand over that slab of rock. I didn?t feel much of anything, even when my curiosity with my own memorial faded and my attention shifted to his. Both of our graves had fresh flowers. There was a mason jar full of moonshine on Jeremy?s which made me smile and I knew exactly who had left it.

We never had children. The closest we ever got to being parents was keeping Jere?s brothers kids on the weekends. Not everyone in his family -- in fact, there were quite a lot of them -- that didn?t accept our lifestyle. Jacob, Jeremy?s brother, and his wife, Sherry, welcomed us with open arms. Their two kids were 5 and 8 when I came into the picture. Children don?t discriminate. I think I loved them as much as I would have any children that could have shared my DNA.

Avery, the oldest, married his high school sweetheart the second they both turned 18. A few years later they moved away, up to Tennessee. They had a couple kids of their own, but didn?t have the chance to visit all that often. Emily, on the other hand, stayed in Mississippi. I went by her house before coming to the grave. Learned she got married recently. I wanted so much to crush her in my arms, just hold her. Em was so close to the two of us, constantly at our house, and more than family. She ended up being a good friend, too. I taught her how to make moonshine when she was seventeen. Girl was a natural. Got better at it than even me. I was so proud of her. It made me happy to see grief hadn?t caused her to give up a hobby that we?d shared.

Petra left me alone after paying her respects, but even as I laid my hand on the cool marble, I didn?t feel the need to say anything. I couldn?t feel him there. Nothing but bones in that tomb. After I stood there in silence for over an hour, Petra suggested we take a drive.

Canaan · Date: 2014-11-16 12:18 EST

?Do ya remember when we firs? found dis place?? Petra gestured to the brick building as we stepped through the door.

?Like it was yesterday.? I said, touching the door frame.

?You?d t?ink beignets an coffee would get old after havin? ?em fer so long.?

I laughed as we slid into our usual booth. The place hadn?t changed a bit. A waitress came to take our order. I recognized her, but we were masked by glamour and she just smiled unknowingly at me.
It was so familiar and yet, at the same time, foreign to be back here after so long. Kind of like being in a dream. It didn?t feel real. We ate our breakfast and reminisced about the life we left behind. We were just finishing up when another another family came into the diner.

It?s a habit of mine, to look up whenever someone new enters a room I?m in. Petra had her back to the door, so I only had to look just over her shoulder to be able to watch everyone come inside. I didn?t recognize his children to begin with, but the moment Jon Waters stepped into the room, it felt like I?d been doused with ice water. It crawled through my veins, sapping every bit of warmth from my body.

He couldn?t see me for me, just like everyone else in the diner. The preacher waltzed in, chatting with his wife while they waited to be seated. I stared in disbelief. My brother?s and lover?s murderer was less than twenty feet away. I don?t know when I started to shake, but Petra had to kick me hard under the table to get my attention. I tore my gaze away from the preacher to find my hands shaking uncontrollably.

?Don?t,? she warned me, looking a little panicked.

It required all my effort and a little magical intervention from Petra to keep from glaring at the lot of them when they passed our table while following their stewardess.

Outside, standing in the middle of the street with his hands in his pockets, stood Nash. He stared back at me, looking troubled.

?How?d he find us?? Petra wondered aloud.

I grit my teeth and got out of the booth, throwing some cash on the tabletop. ?It?s Nash. I?m surprised it took him so damn long.?

?What?re you doin? here, Canaan,? he asked when we went outside.

?I ain? here ta cause trouble.?

?You were told never t?come back.?

?Nash,? Petra petitioned. ?We jes? came ta pay our respects.?

The older warlock looked me over from head to toe, essentially ignoring Petra. He looked every bit the country boy in his cowboy boots, jeans, heavy khaki coat and stetson. ?It lifted.?

Not a question. I just nodded. My jaw ached from clenching it so tightly.

Nash?s eyes flicked away from me and to the big picture window, looking through it, presumably, to where Jon Waters had been seated with his family. ?You will stay away from the preacher, boy.?

Hatred filled me and I must?ve looked murderous, I?m sure.

Nash finally acknowledged Petra?s presence with a question. ?Is there somethin? you can do? Surely there?s someone in New Orleans you?d like to catch up with.?

A dismissal. I shifted my gaze from Nash to Petra, who looked stricken. But it?s not like she could say no. ?Call me?? Her worried eyes were locked with mine.

Nash went on. ?We?ll be a while. Occupy yourself well.? He turned around, walking away. I didn?t say anything to Petra before stalking after Nash.

Canaan · Date: 2014-11-16 13:24 EST

?Where is you takin? me??

Nash didn?t answer me for a long time. He just drove. I didn?t care to pay attention to our surroundings as we wound our way along the back roads, my mind was still back in that diner, consumed with the vision of Jon?s disgusting, smiling face. He was a murderer and he was happy.

Nash, who had ignored me up until this point, looked over at me as he slowed the truck and turned off the pavement and onto a dirt road lined with trees. ?I?ve been watchin? you since ya showed up. Saw you at his grave. I wasn?t sure the spell had lifted, you didn?t seem to have much of a reaction.?

Suddenly, I wasn?t in that diner anymore. And I knew where he was taking me. ?He wasn? dere,? I murmured, staring intently out the window. The first pang of dread hit me hard, mixed with anticipation and a little sadness. My heart was pounding like that night.

The middle of January, almost 18 years ago. Driving my old truck down this dirt road. Jeremy in the passenger seat. I look over and he unbuckles his seat belt and slides across the bench seat.

?Graves never did anything for me, either.?

I couldn?t answer him. I was too busy reeling from the memory.

He grabs my hand from the steering wheel to put my arm behind him where I draped it along the back of the seat. Jeremy pressing himself against my side, head tipping back and onto my shoulder.

?I always found that places spark the memory.? Nash could tell it had done the trick.

I didn?t know why he was doing it and I wasn?t sure I liked it. His truck curved smoothly around a bend in the road. All the air left my lungs.

Jeremy?s fingers sliding up my leg. He wasn?t looking at me, head still tipped back to rest on my shoulder, but he was smiling. That boy was always leaving me wanting more. I only got a kiss from him the night we met and nothing more than a couple make-out sessions in the months that followed. When he started to feel me up, I had to jerk the wheel hard to the left during that turn to keep from crashing the damn truck.

?There?s another family living in your old house. But I?ll take care of that.?

Pedal to the floor as I drove this last stretch of road. His house wasn?t far, just a quarter mile more and up a long driveway to the right. He laughs, the sound filling the car and I feel his hair along my neck.

?Canaan.? Nash spoke, interrupting my thoughts. He was turning up my old driveway. I unbuckled my seat belt and opened the door before he even put the truck in park.

Gravel crunched under my boots and I looked down, closing my eyes for a moment. Nash got out of the truck and slammed the door, leaving me alone in favor of a short walk around the front yard. I had to swallow back the emotion. A few steps closer, now, to the house, I glanced back to the driveway.

My blue chevy parked there, all the windows fogged up. Jeremy in my lap. My hands in his hair and his lips on mine. Outside was freezing, but in the cab, tangled together, I was burning up. He leans back and smiles. Grabs my shirt and pulls it over my head.

Canaan · Date: 2014-11-16 20:11 EST

I honestly don?t remember much of what happened between visiting my home in Mississippi and when I decided that climbing to the top of the Crescent City Connection was a good idea.

It was pure torture, though.

Nash was with me through it all. He joined me in the house after I went inside. I don?t know if he invoked memories of Jeremy with magic or if it was simply being in a place I had shared with him that made it all come flooding back, but the onslaught of pain and anguish I felt was overwhelming.

I remembered the good and the bad. The first time he told me he loved me. My confession that I?d been in love with him for a couple months already. All the nights I lay sleepless, feeling the empty space on his side of the bed after he?d died. The county fair in ?99 when I gave him head at the top of the ferris wheel. Falling asleep on the couch the nights he worked late because I didn?t want to go to bed without him. Watching him graduate with honors despite the many study sessions I crashed and interrupted. The way he made me smile. The mornings I?d make two cups of coffee, only to remember he was dead. Watching our nephew get married, when Jeremy leaned over to whisper in my ear that he?d marry me in a heartbeat if it was legal--I kissed him when the minister said ?you may kiss the bride? and he told me it made him fall in love with me all over again. Laughing together at the kitchen counter. How deeply his sorrow made my heart ache the night our dog died. Vacations in the mountains of Tennessee. Teaching me to surf. Holding him in the hospital waiting room while his father died having refused to see him because he was gay. The way he made me feel every time he told me he loved me with everything in him.

Everything Nash did, every place he took me, reminded me of Jeremy. Everywhere I looked, I could see his face. There was no escape. My whole entire world was saturated with memories of my dead lover.

I?m not sure how long I cried. How long Nash just sat there, filling me with drink and sadness. Or how long he watched me writhe on the floor begging for the pain to end. I tried to drown out every thought, every memory, his smell, his touch, his laugh. Nothing helped. Consumed with desire and the crushing weight of grief, I could think of only one way to end my suffering.

We?d made a pact, Jeremy and I. Or rather, I had made a decision of which he had absolutely no knowledge. We would grow old together, him in age and me in spirit. We would live out Jeremy?s days at each other?s sides and when the time came for him to leave this world, I would join him. I was a little late in doing so, but now was the time. It had to end. I couldn?t suffer through one more memory.

Even this close to the ocean, it?s chilly in November. More so at the top of the steel truss cantilever bridge that spanned the Mississippi river. I stared at the water three hundred feet below and leaned into the wind. I couldn?t see past the blinding pain and let my brokenness consume me. Just when I?d slid the toe of my boot over the edge of the beam, I heard Nash?s voice behind me.

?You coward.?

Reality struck me hard in the face and I stumbled back, panic-stricken. Turning around, I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and shook. ?You did dis,? I screamed. ?Everyt?in, all day. Drowned me in ?im.? The tears started to pour, inhibitions still shot from all the alcohol in me. ?I can?t ****in? do it anymore, Nash!?

The high warlock didn?t say anything. That silence only angered me more. ?Why da **** do you even care, huh?? I asked him. ?You?s da one who put dat goddamn spell on me. Makin? it all hit me at once. Jes? let me get it over wit?!?

I saw fire in his eyes. Something sparked, I?d hit some unknown nerve. He batted my hand away from his shirt, reversing the roles. Now he had me by the shirt and drew me up close, a terrible twisted grimace on his face. Despite the roaring wind, his scream filled my ears and echoed in my skull. ?You don?t think that after all this time, I don?t know ya like the back of my hand, boy? That I didn?t know you were spiralin? down the drain so fast, that this would be your last resort??

I spat in his face. ?You sent me away! You let dat no good, murderin? sonofa***** stay alive an? you punished me!?

Nash shoved me down, hard, and knelt overtop of me. ?I did it to protect you! You had to leave, son. I couldn?t protect you anymore. Killin? those mundanes, there was no way I could do nothing. I didn?t want them to kill you, Canaan. Sixty years of friendship meant something. I did what I could -- I sent you away. And I selfishly did you a favor by putting that spell on you.?

He dragged me to the edge of the beam so that my head was hanging off it. ?I knew bein? alone would be miserable. That, on top of losin? Jeremy, you couldn?t have avoided depression if you?d tried. Dammit, son, I did it for you! So you?d have a chance to make a new life, make new friends, give yourself some reminders that life?s got more to offer than your broken heart.?

I thought he was going to let me up. He?d let go of my shirt and I turned over, intent on getting to my feet. That was when he kicked me over the edge. I didn?t get very far, having caught myself. Nash looked down at me while I dangled there screaming. He crouched down low and grabbed my wrists.

?That feeling in your chest right now, the one that is begging for survival, that?s the feeling you need to hold onto. Don?t think I haven?t been keepin? up with you. Your sister sends word every now and again. There are people who care about and love you, Canaan. You have friends. And your sister, too. Don?t make us mourn for you the way your family here has had to.?

?Let me up!? I begged, feeling my fingers slipping.

?Don?t leave us, Cane.? Nash?s grip tightened, but he didn?t move to help me.

?I won?t!? I wept in relief as he pulled me back up to safety. He sat with me until there were no more tears. And then he sat with me some more.