Lovers at War - (A.R.)

Chapter 35

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Calm Before the Storm

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IN THE LITTLE while I'd know Arvin, there was one thing about him that I was sure of: A lot of the time, he acted on pure impulse, never shedding light to the opposite side of things. After murdering that damned pedophilic preacher and that loony couple who preyed on the innocent, I was expecting him to be shaken, terrified even, or at the most - guilty - but Arvin was absolutely silent.

And silent, I knew, meant numb.

My thoughts were interrupted by Arvin tugging at my hand gently, which averted my attention to him.

"We're here," he said firmly. "Welcome to Meade, Faye. My childhood home."

Time hadn't been very nice to the old Russell home, that was for sure. The windows had cracked glass, but they didn't exactly seem quite so rectangular anymore. The lean-to shed on the side hung downwards as if the fight had left it and it could no longer bring itself to stand up against the years. The grass grew long and unkempt around it and in that grass were tracks that I imagined were made by the local children who dared each other to go there in the twilight to search for ghosts.

After entering the place, the first thing I did was look around in search of anything useful. I was greeted with torn-up furniture, dusty shelves, webbed walls and rickety stairs. It wasn't a lot, but not really knowing how long I'd be staying there for anyway - it was enough for me. When I went over to the kitchen, the atmosphere was much the same, except for the one-or-two rusty pots and pans that harboured over the zombified stove.

Just as I was about to open up the pale cabinets, two arms wrapped around my waist and a chin popped onto my shoulder. Knowing very well that it was Arvin, the shock didn't overlap my eyes. Burrowing his nose into the crook of my neck, he breathed in slowly before exhaling a deep tired sigh that had me turning liquid against the strength of his chest.

"Life seems so surreal right now," he confessed with a heavy grumble, carrying the weight of the day's work with him even though he wished to forget it for a while.

Silently, I reached up my hands to run through his hair. He sighed contentedly and moved his head as though he wanted to burrow further into me. "Why's that?"

Extracting his arms from around my waist, Arvin shook his head but insisted, "We're here. Together. Safe and sound, and I wan' it to stay this way."

"If that's the case . . ." I smiled genuinely, catching him slightly off guard. "Then we have a lot to catch up on. Come on, let's take a seat outside."

Once we did, settling on the wooden floor in each other's arms, Arvin was the first to speak up. "I grew up here, 'ya know."

"So I've been told," I joked, only to quiet down again. "I can just imagine the small Arvin Russel running through this house with glee."

"It's not all that happy though, Faye," he explained. Arvin opened his mouth to speak again, almost hesitating before he added, "My Ma died on these grounds."

Furrowing my brows, I turned to face him. "I'm so sorry -"

"It's fine. You didn't know." After a moment, he continued, "Cancer. I-It was cancer. We weren't given much hope for her survival, but my daddy thought that if he prayed long enough, that the Lord could cure her . . . It was no use. She died, and along with that died his sanity."

I responded by nestling my head against his shoulder as Arvin huddled me closer with shaking hands. He didn't have to go through this alone, and I was glad that he opened up to me. Perhaps my initial perspective of him wasn't all the wrong, anyway. Arvin was a broken boy, but he was healing. And I was glad to be part of the remedy.

A few moments of comfortable silence later, and I placed a hand on his cheek while the other still held his hand. He met my eyes and something of an understanding passed between us.

I cleared my throat. "I want to tell you something too."

And we both confided the stories of each other's pasts.