Chapter Four

 

The parking lot at The Silver Spur Steak House held only three other cars. Matt rolled down the window and called out to Travis. “Leave the keys in the ignition. No way she can miss the car.” If Travis found out Crystal hadn’t showed up for work, he’d rush home to make sure she was okay.

Travis jogged over to the Mustang. “No can do, man. I dissed her last night and I need to apologize. I’ll be back in two.” Travis headed for the backdoor, throwing his keys into the air and catching them, a happy spring still in his step as he walked.

Matt flipped on the radio. A news broadcaster droned on about Chinese students protesting for democracy in Tiananmen Square. He changed the station. Madonna sang her hit, Like a Virgin. He turned it off.

In the silence, with no way to force the memory back this time, Matt heard the fear in Justin’s voice so vividly that he had to brace himself to keep from turning around to look for his cousin. An instant later, Matt was back in Lake Powell, twelve years old and kicking his legs to stay afloat.

* * *

All around him rusted mountains rose—carved by nature and mirrored on the water’s surface. The lake was cool with only the slightest ripple. To his left, a tuft of white cloud peeked over the ridge of Gregory’s Butte. Everything was quiet except for the slapping sound of waves caressing the shoreline in Mountain Goat Cove. On a rock ledge about twenty-five feet above Matt, Justin’s hair gleamed like polished mahogany in the angled sunlight. The sky behind his cousin was so bright it hurt to look up and Matt had been momentarily blinded before the sun dropped behind a cloud and turned the lake to sapphire.

Matt heard the soft slapping sound of Justin’s wet feet on the rocks.

“Don’t be a chicken,” Matt had yelled up from the water. “Get a running start like I did.”

“I can’t,” Justin shouted. “I’m scared.”

The rock canyon amplified and echoed sound as if it had a voice of its own. Scared…Scared…Scared.

“Yes you can. Be brave. It’s so easy.” Easy…Easy…Easy.

Justin stood as still as a statue.

Then Matt said the worst thing he could think of. “You’re acting like a little girl. A sissy crybaby.”

Justin still didn’t move.

Matt swam towards the shore, got out of the water and climbed up the cliff until he stood directly behind Justin. “You jumped off the high dive at the YMCA pool. You can do it,” he said. “I know you can.”

Justin’s arms went out to his sides like a tightrope walker as he inched to the edge. He stood for a moment looking down at the water, his legs visibly trembling. “I can’t. I’m too scared.”

“Yes you can.” Matt gave him a small nudge.

Justin stumbled forward and dropped off the ledge. His legs scissored back and forth for an instant, then dangled loose as if they’d become disjointed from his body. When the wind caught his bright red bathing trunks, they billowed out like a balloon. His chin dropped to his chest and he seemed to hang in the air for a moment.

Justin looked so amazing as he fell that Matt applauded. Justin would love the thrill of the fall, the way his heart beat faster and his body felt free and light as a hawk. Justin would get over his fear and next time they’d jump together and land side by side.

And then everything slowed down. Another cloud passed over the sun, leaving a golden ribbon across the lake. It was into this ribbon, near the rocky edge, that Justin entered the water. Concentric circles grew bigger and bigger, then disappeared.

Matt got a running start and jumped from the ledge. Once he entered the water, he opened his eyes and looked for his cousin. Bubbles rising from his nose, he sunk deeper into the lake. He saw nothing and decided Justin had already risen to the top.

When Matt’s head popped out of the water, he skimmed the lake’s surface, searched the cove, but saw no sign of his cousin. “Come on, Justin. You’re scaring me.”

As Matt waited for him to surface, for the shining wet head to bob up, the cliffs reflected by the water moved with the lake’s ripples like spirits dancing.

He waited and waited, but Justin didn’t resurface.

Matt dove so deep, his fingers and toes tingled, then went numb. A dull roaring sound filled his ears as he dove again and again. Dove until his stomach hurt and his eyes and lungs burned as if the lake were on fire.

His arms aching, his breath coming in short gasps, he fought his way back to the yellow dinghy he and Justin had pulled ashore. Matt had to get help. Alone, he paddled faster than he’d ever paddled before. When Aunt Kelsey, Mom’s twin sister, spotted the dinghy with only him inside, her dark eyes widened and her face went white as she looked from him to her sister and back again.

A hollowness filled his chest, as sharp and brittle as a skeleton. “Justin and me,” he said, choking out the words. “We jumped into the lake. He didn’t come back up.”

For a moment, everything was still. And then orders were shouted.

“Radio the marina to call search and rescue. Get the speedboat.”

A motor started, strong arms pulled him out of the dinghy and into the already moving boat. Uncle Bryce grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. “Show me the exact spot where he went in.”

Dad and his uncle dove again and again. The terror-filled minutes elongated into a lifetime, then collapsed like a stack of dominoes. Uncle Bryce had found Justin, his right foot wedged between two boulders jutting out from the canyon’s rock wall.

For six years, Matt had believed that afternoon at Lake Powell would always be the worst time of his life, but he’d been wrong. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on Travis. Matt had never seen Travis cry, not even at Justin’s funeral. Travis could have a breakdown like Aunt Kelsey did after Justin died.

Light from the restaurant windows seemed to scatter into meaningless splotches. Matt leaned his head back against the seat. There was a horrible nakedness in the silence. It was hard to breathe. He opened the driver’s side window and sucked in some air. It smelled like the hamburgers his dad used to grill on their backyard Weber.

On the other side of the lot, the backdoor of a gray Toyota Camry opened. The dome light came on. Under its glow, a man and a woman tried to arrange their bodies into one small backseat.

Oh shit. He tried to remember if Crystal had closed the blinds before they’d started to dance. If the candles had given off enough light for them to be seen through the window. Dancing? What was he thinking? They’d had sex without a condom. The police would find his semen inside her. Travis could disappear from Matt’s life the way Justin had.

On television, they never let the victim bathe until after the rape test was done. Crystal had sat in a bathtub of water for a couple hours after they’d had sex. That might change the results. He unclamped his hands from the steering wheel and wiped them on his thighs.

Travis returned, stood by the driver-side window. “She never showed up for work. Gracie said as soon as I drove off, Crystal got in some fancy car. Figures. No wonder I hate her.”

Matt swallowed. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

Travis’s eyes widened. “I just wish she’d stop screwing everything up for me.”

Matt stared at the steering wheel. Travis was about to get his wish. Crystal would never screw anything up again. She’d never laugh at their antics or teach them another dance step. Never see them graduate from high school. Never watch a NCAA game where Travis played for the Arizona Wildcats and slammed the baseball out of Kindall field.

“She’s going through a bad time,” Matt said.

Travis cocked his head, gave Matt a suspicious look. “How do you know?”

Above them, the moon slipped behind a cloud, rearranging the shadows on Travis’s face.

There was an awkward silence.

“I don’t know for sure,” Matt said. “And maybe you don’t know what she’s going through right now either. But your mom is the best person I know.”

“She’s been drinking too much, man.” Travis slapped the Mustang’s door. “Go on home. She’s probably waiting for me. I’ll make sure she’s okay and then be right over.”

“If she got a ride, what’s to worry about? You can call her in the morning.”

“I’ll change and be at your house in a half hour,” Travis said. “What’s the big deal?”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“If she’s drunk and passed out, she’ll be freaked you saw her that way.”

“I can help you get her into bed.”

Travis shook his head sadly, then lumbered away, his shoulders slumped, his head down.

A better friend would have gone home with Travis, no matter the cost. Matt thought about the blood, the wound in Crystal’s neck. A wound that would soon belong to Travis. And no amount of stitching could ever close it.