Chapter 41
THE BIBLE TOLD ME SO
We pulled into the funeral home, where a thin man was being consoled by another.
Someone else’s life had changed for the worse.
They prayed and cried. And prayed some more.
Prayers being tossed like wishes into an empty pond.
There wasn’t a god that would save either of them from the sadness that was going to consume them.
I knew because I looked for months after my father died and every night when Tristan lay broken on my bathroom floor. No god ever saved us.
“Fuck.” Noah put the car into park. “You can change your mind. I’m sure Bailey would love to hear stories about me as a child.”
I watched the man Noah watched, the one sobbing and praying.
It took a minute to realize the man with the black eye and the busted lip was James Anderson.
He was half the man he had been all those years ago.
He still had a thick head of hair, but it was gray, and his blue eyes were fading. “Is that your father?”
“Yep, and the preacher I asked him not to bring,” Noah said, getting out of the car.
“My son,” James cried, staggering towards Noah. “Thank god you’re here.”
Noah stiffened as his dad hugged him. “I asked you not to bring him.” Noah pulled away.
“He is here for you too, Noah. Your soul is in jeopardy. You need to repen—" James stopped when he saw it was me who got out of the car. “Evan Carter? What a pleasant surprise.” He moved towards me.
“Stay the fuck away from me.” I pointed at him. James Anderson looked like an old man, not the monster I remembered. And I wasn’t the scared teenager anymore.
James put his hand to his heart. “I’m a changed man, Evan. And I ask for your forgiveness.”
“You can eat shit and die for all I care.” I crossed my arms over my chest. I didn’t buy this bullshit. I had seen what he could do to a sixteen-year-old boy.
“That is not the way of our Lord.” The man dressed in a gray suit spoke. “Matthew 6:14 says: ‘For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.’”
“And Revelation 21:8 says: ‘As for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur.’ That’s where you will spend eternity, James Anderson.
I know what you did and so does every god in the heavens.
Come on, Noah.” I took his hand and pulled him into the funeral home.
It had changed since the last time I walked through these doors.
The green carpet and curtains had been replaced with white blinds and a gray tile floor.
But the smell was the same. Not of death but of endings.
“Is that really what Revelation says?” Noah asked.
“Close enough.” There had been a time when Laura made Tristan go to church and pray for forgiveness. Like he was the problem. I went with him and held his hand. I searched the bible for verses to prove that it wasn’t Tristan’s fault and that James would be punished.
“Noah.” An older woman came forward, hugging him. “I’m so sorry about your mom. She was such a bright star.” She turned to me. “Evan Carter?”
“Hello, Mrs. Doyle.”
“I didn’t know you were back in town.” She touched her pearls. “And with Noah. I… um, where is Bailey?”
My god, this town was such a shit show. I showed up with Noah and it meant what?
I was sleeping with him too. “She’s not feeling well.
And you are well aware of my connection to the family.
” Karla Doyle had been the school nurse when we were in middle and high school.
She didn’t like Tristan. Or me. It might have to do with the fact I called her a bitch when she wouldn’t give Tristan some Advil.
She said it was because he was on drugs.
And Advil was a highly addictive drug to a fifteen-year-old whose father tried to break his hand.
“Yes, I heard Tristan got into a little trouble. Such a waste, that boy.” The old woman clicked her tongue and shook her head.
“Right.” I looked her up and down. Why had I been so afraid of these people?
“You could’ve saved him if you really wanted to.
It’s the law. I know that now. You’re a mandated reporter.
You knew where the bruises came from. And yet you did nothing.
So if you think Tristan is a waste, you should have done something then.
But you didn’t, so fuck off.” I hated the little people of this town.
How they all knew what James was doing. But Tristan was born of sin.
His family wasn’t a “good” family. His father not a big enough hero.
Tristan wasn’t important enough to save then, and now he was just a whisper to gossip about.
She said nothing more to me. “Noah, Curt is waiting—” Her words were cut off when a sob broke through.
James clung to the door, sobbing as his preacher read from the bible.
I looked at Noah, who watched his father with disdain. “Aren’t you glad you came back?” Noah walked into the office Karla was standing by.
I watched James be led to a chair, where he hung his head and cried more. I hated him. I wanted to strangle him, break him, and crush the pieces of him under my shoe.
“Ev,” Noah called.
I stopped next to Karla. “Don’t let him in here.” I closed the door behind us. I was sure within the next three minutes, my mother would know I was back in town and with Noah Anderson. I started to text her when Craig called.
“Hey.” I stepped out of the room. James was still sobbing but in the chapel.
“Got a little problem. Tristan needs a local address.”
“What? Can’t you use your Blaine one?”
“You would fucking think so. But James said he wants to file an OFP, and the cops will need a place to serve it. God, this town is like fucking Mayberry. He can’t stay at a hotel. And he doesn’t want to drag his brother into this.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Give them my mother’s address.
He can stay there.” I said it before I could think it.
Because that was how it always was. He needed a place to stay, and it was with me.
At this rate I’d also be doing his history report and we’d be smoking weed in the tree house.
Maybe we could fix us as we took this walk down memory lane and found where we went wrong.
“Are you sure?” I could hear James sobbing when Karla told him it might be best to give Noah a minute or two.
“Yeah. We just got here, and James is a fucking piece of work. Don’t bring Tristan here. Please.”
“Yeah, he needs a shower and some sleep. I’ll take him to Noah’s. You want to meet up for lunch?”
“Will drinking be involved?”
“What the fuck do you think? Hey, what’s Tristan’s real last name?”
“Hanson. Tristan River Hanson.”
“Are you okay? Tris wants to know.”
I could see Noah through the door. His head was in his hands, and his shoulders were shaking. “No. I hate this town.” I hung up and went to Noah. I wrapped my arms around him and let him cry. He clung to me just like that night and all the other nights. But this time a Pop-Tart couldn’t fix him.
A decision of what to do with Laura needed to be made.
Burial or cremation. Noah wanted to talk to Tristan.
Curtis said James had made it known that cremation was against his religion.
And as Laura’s husband, he would have the final say.
It took everything for me not to grab the paperweight off the desk and beat James with it.
I moved conversations to the programs and listing her family and other minor details.
Memories of my father’s death and my aunt having to do this sat like oil on the surface.
My mother had been like James, sobbing in the small chapel, begging a deaf god to not make this true.
I sat there, numb, not knowing if I should scream or vomit.
And when I couldn’t listen to my mother sobbing anymore, Tristan came and took me away.
“Did you want flowers for the casket?” Curtis made a couple notes.
Noah just stared at the wall. The tears slid down his cheek, his words stuck somewhere. He was in that same place I had been. The place Tristan had rescued me from. “Yes. Um… pink roses and whatever else.” I took Noah’s hand in mine. “It’s time to go, okay?”
“You’ll have to order the flowers at the shop. Ah, now we have the payment to talk about. Noah, your mother—”
“He’s done.” I shot Craig a text to come and get Noah.
“Yes, but…” The funeral director motioned at the papers.
“I said he’s done. You and I will discuss what is left. But he is done.” I turned to Noah. “It’s time to go, okay, Noah? Craig is on his way,” I said gently.
“Yeah. I think that’s for the best, don’t you?” Noah looked lost. Like the little boy who would sometimes be curled up between Tristan and me. “Or should I do more? I don’t want Tristan to worry. He’s done so much. We should go get him.”
“Craig picked him up. He’s waiting at your house. And there is nothing more for you to do here.” I smiled as if it were all okay. As if the tears I wanted to cry weren’t because of all the damage Laura had done to these two boys.
Noah’s breathing picked up, and his bottom lip trembled. “I should’ve done more for him. He did so much for me.”
“Hey, hey. We’re not doing that. Okay?” We sat there in the office for a few moments, making sure Noah was okay enough to walk out.
I led Noah out past his father, who was still crying and reaching for him.
Outside, Craig pulled up, and Tristan jumped out of the car and raced to his brother.
He pulled Noah tight into his embrace. Noah clung to Tristan, sobbing his guilt and apologies out.
Begging his brother to forgive him. Tristan looked like shit.
He had a cut on his cheek, and he looked worn down.
Craig walked over to me. “I’ll take them back to Noah’s. Get Tristan cleaned up. Are you done?”
I rubbed my face, suddenly exhausted. “No. I have to go discuss payment with the director. Laura didn’t have any money saved. And Born Again Jesus isn’t going to help out.”
Tristan got Noah into the car and walked over. “Ev.”
It was harder to see him this close. I wanted to take him in my arms and tell him it was okay. That he’d be okay because I’d make sure. “Um. How do you want to pay for this? I can—”
“Here.” He handed me his credit card. “Just do whatever. Please.”
I took the card, but he didn’t let go. I could feel the tears burning. His knuckles were bruised and cut. I noticed the small letters on this thumb. BLU. I wanted to say more. But James’s voice cut through.
“Get that fucking bastard away from my son.”
“Go.” I took the card and shoved Tristan.
“Ev.”
“Tristan, please go. Take your brother and go. I can’t do this.” I shoved him harder.
“Come on, Tris. Noah’s been through enough.” Craig grabbed Tristan.
“Boy, you heard me!” James yelled.
That was the James I knew. The slurred words that rang out in the night. The sharp bite of that word “boy.” Tristan looked at him again. The hurt and embarrassment was all there. “Go!” I pleaded.
I turned to see James striding toward the car. And all the years and the helplessness I felt raced through me. The nights on the bathroom floor, patching Tristan up. The nights when he had to sneak his brother through my window. The blood. The tears. The fear. All of it. I broke this time.
I shoved him. I shoved James Anderson hard against the wall.
I could hear Tristan calling for me. But I didn’t stop.
I grabbed James’s shoulders and slammed him against the wall again and again.
“Touch him again, and I will kill you. I’ll strangle the life from your worthless body, and then I will take you to the gates of hell and watch the devil feast on your black soul,” I whispered in his ear.
“Do you hear me? Stay away from both of them.” I shoved him again before letting James slide to the dirty sidewalk.
I walked back into the funeral home. James Anderson was nothing more than a monster that hid under the bed.
And I wasn’t a child anymore.