GOOD-BYE
My phone’s not connecting to Mr. Cratcher’s network, so I turn on his computer. Protools, the DAW, is the first thing that opens once the screen turns on. I minimize it and Google “Lanark: A Life in Four Books PDF.” At first I find nothing, but after putting “last line of” in front of my previous search phrase, it brings up a Google book copy. I scroll all the way to the bottom and see “pages 556 to 577 are not shown in this preview.”
I curse. I could buy it on my Dad’s e-reader, but that would mean I have to go home.
Home = seeing my dad.
I turn off my wifi, then sign into my dad’s Amazon account and buy the e-version.
While it’s downloading, I open my email. At the top of my inbox is “Fwd: What Are You, Elias?”
My breath catches. She found it.
Dez, I found Mr. Cratcher’s song. I had it digitized for you. I haven’t listened to it, so I apologize if the quality is sub-par. I hope you and your friends find what you are looking for.
Sincerely,
Mr. Crowell
I hover the mouse over the attachment at the bottom. I consider waking Elliot and Trey, or even texting Addy, but decide against it. I’ll share it with them later. Right now, I want this for me. I need this for me. I click on the attachment and a play button appears on the screen. Before I can prepare myself, the song bursts through the studio monitors with a vintage crackle.
They call you names. We call them lost.
They call me traitor; I count it as holy loss.
Traitors just another name for sinner
A name we could all be called.
The wind alone doesn’t make a windy day.
It needs trees to move, and a noise to make.
If we believe one man to be the greatest shame
The shared pain of the heart is life to forsake
What are you, Elias?
What am I, brother?
I’ve written a world’s worth of words
In the depths of man’s equal dark days
But there’s no one word to describe you
There’s just blood, flesh, and grace.
What are you, Elias?
What am I, brother?
We are a divine mathematician’s variables,
Formed human, in constant change.
We are a changing song of glory,
Made up of a holy and broken blaze.
I finally have the answer.
I’m a variable of broken and holy light, and now that I know, there’s only one thing about me that’s changed. I’ve gone from desperately looking for the answer, to desperately wishing I knew what it meant.
I walk past Trey and Elliot, rolling my steps heel to toe to make them extra silent. It’s five a.m. so I don’t have to be incredibly quiet. If there’s one thing I learned on our failure of a road trip, it’s that the two of them could sleep through the apocalypse.
I get in the car and pull up From Lanark. I see the last line and my stomach sinks. Dread hits me like a punch. I start Genevieve and speed my way to the Coulter mansion on I-405.
I-405 = Dez.
Dez = ?
? = worry. Lots of worry.
Strangely, worrying about her makes me feel lighter. That might mean we’ve erupted, and somehow, I still love her.
I pull up to the Coulter mansion gate at 5:37 and take a deep breath. I press the blank button at the top of the keypad at least ten times before a groggy hello comes out of the speaker.
“This is Adam Hawthorne. I need to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Coulter. It’s urgent.”
“I don’t think they are awake yet. Why don’t you come back around nine?”
“No, I need to talk to them now. Something might be wrong with Dez.”
The mysterious person—I’m guessing it’s Mrs. Coulter’s personal assistant—doesn’t respond. She just opens the gate.
I alternate between knocking and ringing the doorbell. I hate myself for coming here, but I can’t just sit around hoping Dez is okay. Since she called, I’ve felt like the world is on the verge of collapse. It may be dramatic, but I can’t describe it any other way.
A blur appears in the frosted windows on the doors. I have the brief thought that they might not even care, but they can’t just not care. They just might not care in the right places or at the right times. The door on the right pulls back slightly so that all I can see is the top half of Mr. Coulter’s face.
“Adam?” he asks.
“Hey, Mr. Coulter, I just … uh. I just wanted to know if you’ve heard from Dez?”
That’s all it takes for the door to swing all the way open.
“We’ve been trying to get in contact with her since she texted us last night,” he says, bringing me into the kitchen.
“She texted you? What time? What did she say?”
Mr. Coulter gets a glass and fills it with water then hands it to me. “It was jumbled, like she was drunk, but she said she was sorry and muttered some man’s name.”
Mrs. Coulter comes around the corner of living room. “Terry?”
She sees me in the kitchen and looks down at herself with horror, as though someone seeing her in her pajamas is on a list of extra dirty sins.
“I’ll be right back,” she says.
I pull out my phone to pull up From Lanark.
“You said she was fine when you left her, correct?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
Mr. and Mrs. Coulter know she stayed. Addy talked to them about it before we left. However, I’m not sure if they know why. Addy and Dez wouldn’t have told them about us breaking up, and I didn’t mention it when I returned the SUV.
I hand him my phone.
“Adam,” Mr. Coulter says, “what is it?”
“The man she quoted. This is his book. The last line’s just ‘Good-bye.’”