I woke up Monday, my cheekbone extremely tender and beginning to turn ugly colors. My stomach lurched every time I thought about the way last night had ended and I waited until noon before I finally gave up waiting for Sebastian to call me and called him instead. He didn’t answer. I knew he wouldn’t, but I had to try anyway. I texted him around six, knowing he usually worked until five thirty. Although my phone indicated the message had been delivered, he didn’t appear to have read it, and he didn’t respond.
Tuesday morning, Sebastian didn’t contact me or respond to any of my attempts to contact him, either. But at noon, Jordan came home for lunch, knowing it would be just the two of us in the house. He set his laptop on the island. “I think you need to see this,” he said, his boy-next-door features marred by concern.
With a few mouse clicks, he opened an article from an Orange County news site about a little boy whose mother died when she fell down a set of concrete stairs leading up to their second-story apartment. According to the article, the little boy had run to meet her, catching her unawares as she came up the stairs, and the impact of his sturdy little five-year-old body had sent her tumbling backwards to her death. She was survived by her husband and son, Nathan and Braden Jeffries.
I looked at Jordan curiously. “That’s a terrible story. Do you think they’re related to Sebastian somehow?” Was Jordan still looking for information on him? His concerned warning the other day indicated he just might be.
“Look at the date, sis.”
Seventeen years ago today. A sickening sensation began to settle in my stomach.
“Another article says the woman had some other injuries that couldn’t be attributed to the fall, some much older, but there were no police reports of abuse. The apartment neighbors claimed the woman was quiet and well-liked, the husband worked long hours and was rarely around, at least during the day. A woman across the hall who sometimes took care of Braden said the little boy seemed happy enough before the accident, so there was a brief domestic violence investigation that ended inconclusively.”
I waited, knowing Jordan was getting to his point, wishing he would hurry, but dreading it all the same.
“Now look at this.” He leaned in and scrolled through a few more sites until he found another article, this one with a photo of the husband, Nathan Jeffries. “Who does that look like to you?”
I couldn’t breathe as I stared at the black and white image on the screen. I didn’t need it to be in color to recognize Sebastian’s eyes staring back at me from the face of a man who could only be his father. “Oh, Jordan,” I whispered, my whole body tingling with shock. “Oh no.” There were no words. “Poor Sebastian.”
Something else clicked into place. “Braden. That was Charlton Heston’s character in The Greatest Show on Earth, and Sebastian told me he was named for The Great Sebastian in that movie, Jordan. It’s probably his middle name. It’s him. It’s got to be.”
“I’ve done a lot of looking, but all I’ve found is a tiny follow up article in a local paper a few months later. Apparently, shortly after the case was shelved, Nathan moved his son away from the apartments without even saying goodbye to the neighbors who had helped take care of them for weeks after the accident.” Jordan still leaned over the computer beside me, his forearms resting on the island. “I think this might explain his overly-protective nature.”
“I can’t even imagine, Jordan. His mother. Poor thing must have been terribly traumatized. And then to up and leave like that.” I was barely able to see him through the tears welling in my eyes, my heart aching for the little boy Sebastian once was, for the invisible man he tried to be. “Oh, Jordan,” I whispered, a terrible puzzle piece slipping into place. “Do you think they got the story right?”
“I don’t know, sis.” He stared at the image on the screen, his eyes narrowed in contemplation. “I don’t know. Something feels off to me. Not necessarily wrong, but like there’s something missing. But you know me. I’m pretty sure I was Magnum P.I. in another life.” Joke as he might, I could tell he was really bothered by what he’d learned. “You know Sebastian better than I do. What does your gut tell you, Squeak?”
I hesitated only for a moment, and then I told Jordan everything, starting with the first day Sebastian walked into my Music Theory III class, about Foster and Pete, and how Sebastian was risking his own safety to take care of them, all the way up to Sunday night’s rehearsal and Dad’s intervention. Sebastian’s words kept ripping through my thoughts over and over again in the new light of what I’d just learned.
“Are you scared of me now? Because you should be. I hurt everyone I care about eventually. I am a monster, little girl.”
***
Jordan suggested I wait until Wednesday night before I made a commotion about Sebastian. “He may just be embarrassed, like he was the day he hauled me off you. He may truly believe he’s not worthy of you, and isn’t answering your calls because he thinks he needs to stay away.” What he said made sense, but the waiting was killing me. “Keep trying to contact him. Let him know you want to hear from him. If he doesn’t show for Dad’s class, we’ll go looking for him, okay? You have his address, right?”
I promised him I’d hold off and try not to panic, but by that evening, I couldn’t stand sitting around doing nothing. Waiting. I needed to do something. Anything.
I crossed the street to Ani’s house where I was greeted exuberantly by Mary. After exchanging all the news we each had gotten from Ani over a cup of passion peach iced tea, Mary happily handed over Juno’s leash to me. “It’s a beautiful day. Juno would be thrilled to walk down to the dog park with you.”
Maybe, just maybe, I’d get to the park and find Sebastian and Foster sitting on the hillside under the oak and sweetgum trees, sharing greasy burgers while Pete played with the dogs in the arena. Tuesday was their regular burger day, wasn’t it?
Juno knew exactly where we were going, and when we rounded the last bend and started across the parking lot, I had to hustle to keep up with her, so great was her enthusiasm. I kept my head down, though, almost afraid to see the hillside, whether it was empty… or occupied by the one guy I wanted to see more than anyone else in the world at that moment. But what if Sebastian actually was there with Foster? What would I say to him? Would he even speak to me?
I waited until we were inside the gate and had released Juno into the fray before lifting my eyes. I pulled up short. Foster. It had to be. Propped—that was the only word for it—against the trunk of the California oak under which I’d seen him a hundred times before, Pete stretched out on the ground beside him.
What were they doing there? Out in plain sight? Where was Sebastian?
I hesitated only a moment, then texted Sebastian.
JollyRockerTBird: I’m at the dog park. Foster and Pete are here. Where are you? I shoved the phone back into the pocket of my jeans, knowing intuitively that he wouldn’t answer.
By the time I made it up the slope to Foster’s side, Juno had joined me. Before I could stop her, she’d pounced on Pete, but other than a wagging tail and a few exchanged face licks, Pete didn’t seem interested in Juno.
“Foster?” He looked asleep, his breathing labored and shallow. He looked terrible, a little blue around the mouth. He smelled worse. I knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his knee. “Foster?”
The poor man jerked awake and raised his frighteningly scrawny arms to cover his head in a protective gesture. The movement must have caused him excruciating pain, because he let out a groan that made Pete whimper, and I had to grab Foster’s shoulders to keep him from toppling over.
It took the man several minutes to steady his breathing, his red-rimmed eyes spilling over from the pain. He wheezed terribly. “You need a doctor, Foster. Please let me call for help.”
“Seen Jeffries?” It took several breaths for him to get the two words out.
“Not since Sunday night,” I said, wrestling with the fear gripping me. “Have you?” I, too, wished Sebastian was here. He would know what to do.
“He came… last night. Late. His old man… followed him. Kid… told me to come here. Wait for him here.” He covered his mouth with his sleeve and coughed, a horrible ratcheting sound. When he pulled his arm away, there was a splattering of blood on his sleeve. He leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes.
“Oh, Foster. You’re coughing up blood. You need to go to the hospital.” I pulled my phone out and stood. “I have to call for help. I can’t leave you like this.”
“You… take… Pete?” Foster didn’t argue with me, which scared me even more.
“Of course. Yes.” I dialed the only person I could think of to call at that moment.
“Find Jeffries.” Foster added, laying a hand on Pete’s head, his skeletal, blue-tipped fingers gently massaging the dog’s floppy ears. “He’s… in trouble. It was his old man. His old man… did this.” He laid his free hand over his ribs.
I nodded, not at all surprised by the news, and spoke into the phone. “Daddy? I—I need you. I need your help.”