The Grave Mistakes of Emerson Darcy

3

I eased out of the memory glancing over at Jethrow who was still apologizing more to himself than to me. I crawled over to him.

“It’s alright, everything’s alright. Shhhh you’re ok.” I whispered as I stroked his hair. He leaned into me still apologizing. “I know you’re sorry, Jethrow. I know you are.” That seemed to snap him back into himself. He unwrapped his arms around me and there was a bright red stain on his forearm.

“I must have cut my back.” I said quietly. He nodded his head.

Jethrow stood abruptly and scooped me up in his arms like it was nothing. He was just as strong as his muscles implied. He began to carry me out into the hall.

“I can walk, it’s fine. Put me down.” I squealed at him. He finally put me down at the foot of his bed. Jethrow unbuttoned my shirt and let it fall to the floor.

“Lay down. On your stomach.” He said sternly before walking into his bathroom. I looked around, I had been in Jethrow’s room exactly once before. It was almost the exact same, all shades of grey. He had removed the crudely hung band posters, in their place hung beautiful professional photographs and paintings.

It was the eighth grade when I was last in here, I was walking back to Kate’s room when I heard crashing coming from behind his door. I slowly made my way over and pushed the door open. The room was trashed, drawers ripped from the dresser and dumped on the ground, there was a lamp knocked over in the corner. Jethrow walked out of his closet.

“Get out of my room.” He growled at me, his shirt was ripped and his head had a small cut oozing blood.  I took a defiant step into the room.

“I said get out.” He snarled again. When it became clear I wasn’t leaving, he grabbed a book off his bedside table, and he threw it close to me but not at me. It hit the wall right next to my head. I raised an eyebrow, before grabbing a mug off his desk and throwing it so close to his head he had to duck. Jethrow raised his head again and smiled at me causing blood to drip further down his face. I smiled back.

“Boyer!” I heard Kate yell from her room.

“Her majesty calls. Run along faithful subject.” Jethrow snapped but I as I turned I saw his face fall a little.  I had barely made it out of the room before he slammed the door shut. Kate’s face popped out of her doorway.

“Were you just in Jet’s room?” I shook my head no. “Good because he’s a total psycho. I swear someone should lock him up. You’ll stay away from him, won’t you?” I nodded my head.

“I asked you to lay down.” Jethrow spoke, startling me out of my memory.

“No, you told me to lay down.” I retorted, turning to look at him. He shook a first aid kit at me.

“Lay down.” I flopped down on the bed. I inhaled the scent of the sheets, it was spicy and warm. Jethrow came over and gently started cleaning the cuts.

“You have less scars than I expected.” He said.

“They’re there just little.”

Jethrow leaned down so close that I could feel his breath, a steady warm puff. “You’re right. There are everywhere, what makes cuts that little?” he asked.

“Glass, shards of glass.” I answered, trying to keep my voice normal.

“Campbell fucked you up.” He seemed angry.

“Campbell was a bastard, I’m glad he’s dead.” I said softly.

“To be honest, I’m glad they both are.” Jethrow retorted. That should have made me angry. I know it should have but it didn’t. “Your shirt has blood on it, want me to get you new one?” he said. I sat up and looked at him.

“Yours does, too.” I pointed at a little red dot on his button up. He got up and walked into his closet. Jethrow walked back two shirts in hand, he handed me an ancient band tee from some obscure group I had never heard of.  I pulled it on over my head just as Jethrow took his shirt off. I looked at his stomach, he looked like a god but his golden skin was tarnished with at least three scars, probably more. I looked way and he quickly slid on a tank.

“What’s your tattoo say?” I asked highly interested.

 “Madness dances on my skin as I drown in the dark.” He responded

“I crave a life above the one that most will embark.” I followed with the next line.

“You know that poem?” he tilted his head surprised. I wrote that poem I said to myself.

“Yeah, it caused a huge uproar when the middle school lit mag published it anonymously, the school board was freaking out that whoever wrote it was going to kill themselves.”

“People. That’s not even what the poem is about! It’s about living separate from others, you know? Like not that your better just you exist in a different state than the rest of the world.”  He was beginning to get excited. “Whatever, I’m getting weird about it.” 

“No I like it. You don’t get excited about much.” I said with a smile. It felt strangely intimate that he had my words etched into his body, not that he knew they were mine. I wondered if that would change his view of them, knowing they were mine.

“Let’s go down stairs. I’m starving.” He reached out to me, pulling me up off the bed.

“Is that your schedule?” I asked, glancing at the fridge when we entered the kitchen. Jethrow nodded, I pulled it from the magnet holding it in place. “We’ve got three classes together, ooo and we both have B lunch. AP English with Mrs. Gentry is going to be epic. I had her junior year and she’s basically this 70 year-old woman with a hippie soul.” I was surprisingly excited for Jet to be going to school with me, he’d been going to a boarding school for people with mental illnesses for as long as I had known him. When he first got here Dr. Young told me that he was dangerous and aggressive and that I shouldn’t let Kate or myself spend much time with him. To be honest though Jethrow never seemed all that dangerous but I had grown up with Campbell.

I remember how Kate’s mom would always send him with us when we took off some place, usually the park. Jet would stand underneath the big oak and just watch. He was just a kid and didn’t run around or play or jump or anything except watch which gave a lot of people the heebie-jeebies but not me. I thought it made him seem…steady.

I put the paper back on the fridge as Jethrow called from inside the pantry.

“Do you want anything to eat?”

“Depends on what there is to eat.” I answered.

“Well we’ve got-“ Jethrow got cut off by a breathy voice saying my name. I immediately snapped around. I looked at Kate’s mom and barely recognized her, her skin was sallow as if she hadn’t seen sun in months, her hair was almost all grey now and her bones jutted out from underneath her paper skin. She looked haunted.

“Mrs. Young.” I gasped.

“Beth!” Jethrow said poking his head out the pantry.

“No Momma Young? I supposed not, I’m not anyone’s mother any more, am I?” She asked quietly. It wasn’t really a question.

“Beth, are you alright?” Jethrow asked her softly, slowly approaching her.

“Oh Gus, yes yes I’m fine. Promise.” She said absent mindly answered. Suddenly, her whole face lit up. She hobbled over to the fridge and yank open the door forcefully. “Ah, here we are.” Mrs. Young grabbed a small container and handed it to me. “It’s those little golden tomatoes you like.”

“Um thank you.” I said, taking the tomatoes from her.

“Gus, you be sure she gets everything she needs. I’m going to lay down for a while.” Mrs. Young whispered and she shuffled out the room.

“So…Gus, huh?” I questioned, popping a tomato into my mouth.

“She thinks I’m her brother. It only happens sometimes.” He sighed at me.

“Her brother? You mean your dad.”

“Her brother.” Jethrow said more firmly, I just nodded.