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Slowly but Surely
The first week I had to convince Falcon that I was truly okay. I wanted him to go back to school and forget about me and my pitiful life. He has a life to get back to, and I have Tyler’s murderer to identify. But, of course, he didn’t budge. I think I made things worse for myself.
He not only told me he wasn’t leaving, he also told me to take a semester off, and he made me call my one and only friend, Harmony, from UNCG and forced me tell her everything. I never use the word friend loosely. Harmony is my roommate back at UNCG. I met her my freshman year of college, and I was attracted to her because she’s the total opposite of me. Harmony is outgoing, strong, and independent. She’s also multiracial like me, her mom is Sicilian and Swiss and her father is African American. I was drawn to her from the moment my eyes landed on her deep bronze skin and naturally blond wavy hair and striking grey-green eyes. It broke the fragmented parts of my shattered soul to hear the pain in her voice from what I did or more like attempted. She wanted to come down but she’s at home with her parents and they live all the way in L.A. That’s half a world away from Cherry Creek, North Carolina. I made her promise me that she would stay home and enjoy her winter break. Christmas is just a few short weeks away. She should be with her family.
I’m still living with Falcon and I haven’t heard from GreenFrog since that first time we messaged. I’m wondering if this entire mystery murderer is just some elaborate joke or game to send me further into the grave. I mean, it wouldn’t take long. I wouldn’t be much fun to play with. I’m already fading away.
I sit cross-legged in the middle of Falcon’s bed with a bowl of Lucky Charms in my hands as I impatiently watch the screen of Tyler’s laptop, waiting for the little black box to pop up. It’s Friday night, around the same time GreenFrog contacted me last week.
After I finish eating, I place the empty bowl on the stand and tuck Tyler’s teddy in the crook of my arm, intensely staring at the screen and tiny icons. Fifteen minutes drag by and I give up.
Leaving the laptop open, I reach for my cell that’s next to me and scroll down the list of names until I come upon Hunter. I want so badly to hit the “call” button, but I don’t. A huge part of me misses Hunter. Even though I had a glimpse of the old Hunter Friday night, it was enough to make an impact that twisted my gut and perception of who he is. Hunter did give me a concussion. He couldn’t see past his anger and he hurt me. I don’t think it was intentional at all. I even kind of understand how my stupidity could bring him to the breaking point of losing control. He apologized and I forgave him. That’s the end of that. Instead of calling Hunter, I send him a text:
Me: Hey. What are you doing?
Hunter: At the hospital.
Me: OMG!!!! What happened?? Are you okay?????
Hunter: Why do you always use too many exclamation and question marks? One of each will do just fine.
Me: You’re such a douchebag. So I’m guessing you’re okay?! Better?
Hunter: Much better. I’ve been called worse. And yes, I’m okay. I volunteer a few times a month bringing down cupcakes and playing piano for the kids in the oncology ward. It’s my favorite place to escape when I can’t escape my life.
Me: That’s so sweet. You make my heart hurt.
Hunter: Douchebag one second, sweet the next. Keep it up. I think you may set a world record.
Me: You’re back to douchebag again. But seriously, I’m super proud of you. I know it must be difficult to see them all going through so much.
Hunter: Actually, it has had the opposite effect on me. I see their little bodies going through hell, fighting every day for every breath, for every second, and seeing that makes me so much stronger. They don’t give up when life slams them down on the ground and tramples them nearly to death, so why should I?
Me: You’re right. That’s beautiful.
Hunter: Tell me something I don’t know.
Me: I missed you this week. Why didn’t you come over to see me?
Hunter: I was busy. It’s not good for us to be together. It killed me to know I put my hands on you. It isn’t right. You know the things my father did to my mother. I’m turning into him. No matter how hard I try to stop the cycle, history keeps repeating itself. I don’t trust myself around you, the thin lines between right and wrong get blurry and completely disappear when you’re in my presence. Avoiding you is just easier than the pain I cause when I’m with you.
Me: Is that why you cut me out of your life? If it helps ease a fraction of your guilt, I forgive you. I’ll always forgive you. I think if we tried really, really hard, we can make it together. Because you make me better.
Hunter: Isabel, that’s a really fucked up way to look at this. You deserve so much better than me and what I can offer. Jesus, I don’t speak to you for six years and you send me a text like the one you just sent. As fucked up as it is, it does give me a weird sense of relief to know you forgive me. And to be honest, that was one of the reasons I didn’t want you to be involved in my life. Until I get myself together, I think it’s best to continue to stay away from you. I gotta go. The kids want an encore.
Staring at his last message and trying to think of a good response, the telltale ding of the black box echoes around the large bedroom, startling me.
GreenFrog: How was your week, sweet Isabel?
PureIllusion: Stressful. When should I expect you? Only Fridays?
GreenFrog: Fridays are my favorite day of the week, so yes. I did gather a little information about the night Tyler was murdered. It was storming that night and raining so hard that visibility was nearly zero. The lights in this little town went off. There was a blackout. The street lamps that line The Suicide Bridge are bugged with cameras. The entire bridge has surveillance. With the blackout, the cameras should still serve their purpose due to the backup generator. But no tapes were produced and given to the local police or to you, so I’m assuming that foul play is involved. The security company that has surveillance over the entire town is, Gabai Industries.
PureIllusion: Are you saying that Omar, Max’s father, killed my brother?
GreenFrog: Not quite. All I’m saying is keep your eyes wide open when you’re around the Gabai family. But there is a way for you to get more information. You might have to get your hands dirty and get out in the field.
PureIllusion: How dirty are we talking?!
GreenFrog: Tomorrow Max’s little brother, Rex, will be turning eighteen. He’s having a grand birthday party at their lavish mansion. You should go. Pry a lot and see what you can come up with. It’s worth attending. Wear something pretty and silver. Silver is Rex’s favorite color. Guys love a pretty girl in a pretty dress. Be sugar sweet and airheadish. The stupider, the better. The party starts at 9:00 P.M. Good luck.
And just like that the black window with the bright green text vanishes. I doze off watching RuPaul’s Drag Race and sniffing Tyler’s bear that smells so much of Hunter. I dream of silver glitter and sparkly dresses and catty drag queens.