Jennifer Murgia: Leminscate

“Ryan, what did Brynn mean back there, at my locker?”

Ryan seemed to stiffen the moment I asked that seemingly innocent question. He stared straight ahead and I had to be careful to not run into any open lockers, as I kept stealing glances at his unreadable face. I followed him into the stairwell. He still hadn’t answered me. Then, he pulled my arm when we reached the bottom of the steps, yanking me back to where the storage door stood locked. He kept swallowing and looking away, either to avoid my eyes or to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

“Out with it, Ryan. What did she mean?” I was so afraid he was going to tell me something I didn’t want to know.

He looked down at his feet.

“You know Brynn and her secrets. She takes a little piece of information and bends it.”

He stalled for a minute, then looked at me.

“Maybe we should wait until after school,” he said, shaking his head as if agreeing with himself.

“Okay, if you think that’s best, but are you sure you don’t want to get it off your chest now? You look like you saw a ghost or something and whatever Brynn was talking about is really bothering you.”

“It’s been bothering me for a long time now,” he admitted quietly. “Getting it off my chest isn’t going to take it away.”

I didn’t care that we were late for first period. Whatever was bothering Ryan, I promised myself I would try to understand. To help him. As far as I was concerned, all that happened in the past stays there. It was in the past. I realized at that moment that Ryan was becoming a friend I really needed right now. It wasn’t like I could start over, pick someone out of the blue and go through that whole “get to know you” process. That wasn’t possible anymore. Not with everything that’d happened. Too many secrets … and what kind of friend would that make me?

No, Ryan was perfect. We’d been through the same ordeal. We’d had the same people touch our lives. Minutes ago I opened the flood-gates and told him everything. Unconditionally, he listened. I owed it to my friend to do the same for him.

“Were you waiting long?” Ryan called out to me. He shut the door to his blue Toyota Camry and walked over, the gravel crunching beneath his tawny-colored work boots.

I stood up from the bench outside the Dunkin’ Donuts and walked a few paces to meet him. I laughed, “You’re the only kid I know who wears those to school. Are you the one who’s been scuffing the floor?”

“Don’t mess with my shit-kickers,” he said playfully.

Shit-kickers? I rolled my eyes.

“Well, you know. Not you,” Ryan smiled.

I was right. Ryan was going to make a good friend.

“How about taking on Derek Arnold for polluting the school?”

“Gladly,” he chuckled. “Bringing Derek up doesn’t remind you of, you know? Him?”

He held the door open for me and I stepped inside.

“Of course it does, but I’m not going to let it ruin my life.” The determination must have been strong in my voice because Ryan looked at me a little differently then. At least I thought he did. Could’ve been my imagination. The truth was, it was ruining my life. It was eating away at me and I was hating every minute of it. I loved Garreth and was worried about him. I wasn’t prepared for this.

The tall pimply boy behind the counter appraised us. I remembered seeing him around school. He was quiet and his complexion needed some serious TLC.

“Um, I’ll take a Bavarian cream and a medium hazelnut coffee … just cream, no sugar please.”

“And I’ll have a large black coffee and a bear claw,” Ryan chimed in.

He started to dig in his pocket for money when I stopped him.

“Oh, no you don’t, you sprung for breakfast. This is on me. So, speaking of not letting things ruin our lives …” I quickly changed the subject before he could argue with me about treating him to an after-school snack.

Ryan took the tray from the counter and followed me to a table for two in the back.

“What’s ruining yours?” I asked casually.

Ryan sat quietly for a second, took a sip of his coffee, then set it down and played with the plastic flap on the lid.

“You were right about seeing a ghost,” he whispered, not looking up at me.

When he did finally look up, his face showed the strangest array of emotions. I saw anxiety and fear, apprehension, disbelief. It struck me that whatever load he was carrying in his chest had been there for a while, long before Brynn’s crazy statement this morning.

“You can trust me,” I said, reaching out and placing my hand on top of his. No one from school was here to see us, to misconstrue this display of friendly comfort. They were all at Starbucks. Well, the pimply kid behind the counter was here, but he looked too bored to take notice.

Ryan nodded in agreement, “I know I can.”

I took a bite of my donut and was all ears.

“I was driving around Sunday, just bored. I needed to get out of the house. My dad drinks sometimes. He’s not the best company.” He shot a look across the table to test the waters.

“Sorry, I had no idea.”

“So anyway, I’m driving around and before I know it I’m driving past the cemetery. I thought I saw something and slowed down. It looked like a person walking the path, maybe visiting.”

“Wasn’t it pouring buckets Sunday?” I interrupted him.

“Yeah, it was. That’s why I was surprised to see someone in the cemetery. I could barely see her from the road.”

He took a gulp of coffee and paused. I realized his hand was shaking.

“Ryan?”

“It was her.”

I could barely hear his voice, it was so low.

He looked up and I could see now that his eyes were moist.

“It was Claire.”

I let out a nervous snort of disbelief and looked over at the kid behind the counter. He was stacking straws.

“Teagan, I swear it. It was her,” Ryan leaned over, closing the space between us. The space that suddenly seemed five miles wide. He leaned toward me, reining in the distance that was suddenly huge and oppressive, as if keeping his secret from getting loose.

“What does this have to do with Brynn’s comment? About girls falling at your feet? Wait. Oh. My. God.”

My breath came in shallow rasps. I was having a panic attack and Ryan grabbed my arms inconspicuously, keeping hold of me.

“Listen! Listen to me!” his eyes were full of determination as he kept his grip on me.

“You were there,” I breathed.

“Yes, you know I was.”

“You said you were further back. You weren’t near her!”

The boy behind the counter, Mr. Bored-Pimple Kid, was looking over at our table now. We were causing a scene.

Ryan hung his head. “I dared her to stand on the edge. I don’t know why. The whole evening was like a dream from hell.” He had tears trailing down his nose now that he didn’t bother wiping.

I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to call him every name in the book but couldn’t quite think of the right one. Nothing seemed strong enough.

I was able to free my hands from his and leaned back against the seat, folding my arms protectively in front of me. If I wasn’t too stunned to move, I would’ve been out of there in a second. I had been so concerned about this stupid, budding friendship between us, feeling connected to him, feeling sorry for him and all along he was an active participant in Claire’s death.

I couldn’t trust anyone anymore.

Finally able to find my voice, I asked Ryan the question that had been lurking beneath all the other ones.

“Did you push her?” I growled quietly.

He turned away and looked out the window, avoiding me.

Before I could say anything else, he turned back. He was a wreck as he sat shaking his head back and forth.