I couldn’t argue with the last part and I knew there was no point in arguing the rest. My dad, always staunchly religious, stubborn to a fault, used to dealing with faculty and theology students, he would never ever see it our way. His beliefs only stretched so far.
He wasn’t like us and he never would be.
I suppose there had to be one clinically sane person in my family.
So that was that. I was certain my father was going to call the cops on us anyway, because that was his duty as a citizen of this country, but my mother was sweet-talking him and he seemed to at least calm down a bit.
He and my mother left, while Ada hovered anxiously near the door, flapping her arms from time to time like a nervous bird.
“Is that what really happened?” she asked us, her large eyes pleading for the truth and fearing it at the same time.
“What happened with you?” I said, throwing it back to her, to something safer.
“Mom and I ran. I don’t know where we went, we weren’t even thinking. We ended up by Central Park and finally I had the smarts to think about trying my phone. We called Dad. He was livid. We had been gone all day. It was like, hours passed inside there, not minutes.”
“And what did you tell him?” I asked.
“I barely got a chance to say anything,” Ada said, hugging herself. “Mom told him we needed his help but when he wanted her to explain, she wouldn’t. Well, actually she tried. I believe she said the house was pure evil but that’s when he totally shut her down.” She gave me a curious look. “Mom knows, Perry. She knows.”
Yes she does. No thanks to me and my pill-switching. I was going to have to come clean about that.
Suddenly she sucked in her breath and her jaw started to tremble. “Is he really gone?”
Dex looked at me and together we shared an image of him lying, gored and motionless on the floors of hell. He nodded, swallowing. “Yes. He’s gone.”
Her face crumpled for a moment and I was about to get up and go to her but she shot her arms straight out to the sides, like she was going to take flight and announced. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” She blinked, gasping for breath, and then stilled. “You couldn’t have gone back for him?”
I gave her a weak smile. “I thought about it. But the only reason why I could get Dex was because he’s, well, you know. Special. Like I am. Like you are. Even more so. And his body, his physical body, it can handle things that most people can’t. He could handle the return. Maximus…he wouldn’t have, even if he could cross over. I wish I could have though. I know he went to Hell for someone once. It would have been nice to return the favor.”
She came over and sat down on the corner of the bed, running her hands over the pink and white embroidered quilt.
“What was dying like?” she asked quietly, as if she were ashamed to ask, afraid that Dex would get mad.
But he didn’t. He gave her a soft, lopsided grin. “At first, it sucks. But I don’t think that’s death itself. That’s just dying. That’s knowing this is the end. Being scared. Being in pain. Being afraid to leave. That sucks balls.” He paused and took in a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling. “But death, when it takes over, when you are gone…it’s not so bad. Think about staring into a summer sun, sliding down toward sunset. It’s blinding and it’s gold and you can’t look away. It’s a warm place.”
“Did you see God?”
He let out a little laugh, something I didn’t think either of us were capable of.
“God? No. I didn’t see God, Little Fifteen. But if it makes sense to you, I know God saw me.” He looked down at his hands and nodded to himself. “Maximus is in a good place. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean we are. The ones who are left behind.”
After that, Ada left. I could tell she wanted to stay with us, that she didn’t want to go to a room with her parents. But I she didn’t have the courage to ask and I didn’t have the heart to ask her to stay.
I needed to be alone with Dex more than anything else in the world.
Once the door closed behind her, I got up and flipped the privacy lock on. I turned, leaning against the door, and stared at him
I just stared at him. I needed to take him in, here, alive and sharing the same air as me.
Memories of his loss tried to crawl up my throat, tearing away my happiness. I wouldn’t let it. He was here now and that’s all that had to matter.
He stared right back at me and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him more handsome. I probably shouldn’t have. He hadn’t shaved for days, there were circles under his eyes, he was pale as a ghost. He looked like a man who had died and come back, to put it that way.