Across Acheron

Session 26

People only start to treat you nicely due to two things: if you have something to offer or if you nearly died at their cost. I had both of those things, which ultimately made Keenan act like a replica of St. Nicholas.

Since being admitted out of the hospital, things had changed quietly. You wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t in it. To any other person, Keenan would’ve seemed like the asshole he usually was, but I noticed how he stuck by me more, often asking if I was okay or not. He played it off like nothing mattered to him, but I caught his worried glances here and there. I just pretended not to notice.

He made no significant advance towards what was really important for a few weeks while I rested. I could tell that the iron was bothering him, but he had enough pride not to let it show. Lorna got more bitchy as days passed, constantly ridiculing us for doing nothing. Isaac didn’t say anything about it. It wasn’t in his place.

All the attention didn’t do me any good, to be honest. I didn’t like him noticing me because it forced me to notice him as well. I had finally gotten the hang of keeping my eyes shut around him since Lynn’s, but he also started to get the hang of pissing me off again. You may not understand it, but it got tiring and unproductive to fall in and out of him as often as I did. I got around to thinking about him a lot more than before, and allowed my mind to wander to places it really shouldn’t be at.

Even now, he still manages to get my head reeling from time to time. I wish I could play back every moment to you where I thought he was right here in this facility, playing a game I didn’t know the rules to yet. I can’t quite say I’m not going crazy—I probably am. But I swear to you, I hear his voice in the slightest way.

In mornings where the light hits the blinds in a certain angle, I swear I could see the shadows on the ground form his shape. The space on my bed feels warmer than it should at times, as if he had just gotten up to view nature in its natural art form. But I force myself to believe that he was never there. I mean, everyone has to release the things they love someday, right?

I wonder when I will.

Anyway, after two or three weeks spent lovesick and angry, I decided to try to continue our search. I remember lying down on my bed, flipping through each of Skye’s entries to find some kind of hidden clue or obvious step that my feet missed. Keenan was in the room as well, but he wasn’t any help. All he did was look at Finn’s posters on his wall.

Once in a while, he’d make these stupid sounds that got on my nerves, but I never showed it. Every two minutes there would be an ah, and every four there would be a whoa. It could’ve even driven you crazy, believe me.

By the third whoa, I slammed the diary shut. “Do you mind helping, at least? I’m not here to do your job for you.”

He didn’t bother looking at me when he spoke, tracing the lines of the posters on the wall. “I’ve been thinking of exile, like running off to a place where I don’t have to worry about grabbing souls or solving mysteries. A place where time is irrelevant. We could head way out west, or even down south. We could start a business in a small town where I’d use my charms and you’d use your brains to get money. What do you think?”

“We’ve spent too much time on this, Keenan. Wouldn’t it seem wasteful to you? Think about all the effort we put, plus you’ve been putting up with the iron at the gate—”

“It isn’t painful to me yet, to be honest. It’s just a little terrifying.” He jumped off of Finn’s bed then and made his way over to me. “Fine, I’ll let it go. But maybe next time, we won’t pick a job like this. I’ve been thinking that we’re not so cut out for the city life; we would’ve done well out in the country or a coast.” He sighed. “I just want you to be relaxed, Jack. That's all.”