Beyond the Distance

Chapter 11

Nearly half an hour had passed without interruption: thirty peaceful minutes with Scott, Keona, Acton, and Amy, who ate unsuspectingly, talking about normal things that had nothing to do with Malick. Chris savored those minutes in spite of the persistent, niggling thoughts that raced through his mind as the poison slowly infiltrated his blood. Malick was a part of that poison—a small part but with an unwavering presence.

The voices of the others faded in the background of this persistence within him, and while he clung to their muffled rhythm, he couldn't follow their conversations anymore. The numbness in his arms made handling his dinner impossible, so he rested them against the edge of the table and concentrated all his energy on maintaining a casual appearance in spite of the tightness in his chest. Scott, sitting beside him, nudged him firmly to shake him out of his preoccupation. He glanced in his direction but didn't register his features. He focused all his energy on Scott's voice.

"Is everything okay? You've barely touched your food. It's probably gone cold by now."

"Could I use your bathroom?" It wasn't a natural progression to Scott's question, but it was straight to the point.

"Well, if you have to, of course. You've used it many times in the past. You don't need to ask."

As he passed through the kitchen, he could hear Keona behind him. "Is he doing okay? He seems kind of sick."

He didn't wait to hear Scott's response.

Stumbling into the bathroom door, he joggled the handle unintentionally before prying it open. This shouldn't be so hard... He locked himself inside and leaned against the sink countertop, his eyes searching his distorted reflection. He dug into his pocket and retrieved the vial, the tablets rattling as he unscrewed the cap. He poured two into his trembling hands—small and potent with a chalky texture that he would need water to swallow down with the dryness in his throat. The faucet ran on high, the white noise reverberating in his head as he leaned into the sink to suck desperately from the flowing water. The chalky tablets had already begun to disintegrate. They stuck in his craned neck as he swallowed, but they went down eventually.

Straightening himself, he rubbed the tears from his eyes and the excess water and sweat that rolled down his face and neck, but the tears came back from sheer frustration. He longed to be free of this need—for his blood to be clear and never humming, for his skin to never pallor, and for his stomach to never churn. His spinning world slowed, and the rushing blood in his ears calmed. His hands began to steady, and he regained his composure after a few minutes.

But he felt a vibration from his other pocket where his phone stayed, and he knew exactly who was calling him. He buried his head in his arms and allowed the sensation to persist against his leg. Malick, not now... Go away. He pulled the phone from his pocket and brought it to his ear. "H-hello."

"You left me," Malick said, amusement embellishing his tone. When Chris didn't respond, he continued: "You know, I've done exactly as I said I would. I cannot say the same for you..."

"Where are you?" Chris mumbled, trying to protect his words from the echo in the bathroom.

"Exactly where I said I'd be. I'm at the front gate."

Chris moaned. "Will you just give up already? This party will be better without you here to ruin it."

"We've already gone through this, and we agreed on a compromise, remember?"

Chris grabbed his head. "Of course."

"Then you will let me in."

"No, go home."

"I already bought the girl something."

"Give it to someone else—a girl you like at the Academy or something."

"But it's intended for her, and you know what'll happen if you send me away for good."

"What if Scott doesn't want you here?"

"Then I will leave—but you can't speak for him. No, I won't have that at all."

Chris sighed into the phone. "You're so infuriating."

He could hear Malick laugh on the other end. "That's my boy. Come and let me in."

Chris hesitated. "I—"

"I will not leave until you let me in. I will call you all evening. I will rattle these gates until someone hears me—and will I have a story to tell them all then!"

"Hold on. I'm in the bathroom right now. It'll be a couple minutes."

"I have a lot of patience, Chris, and a bit too much time this summer."

"Yeah, I've noticed," he muttered, hanging up and shoving the phone back into his pocket. As he emerged from the bathroom, he nearly collided with Scott.

"I was just coming to make sure you didn't get lost. Is everything alright? Keona is ready to open her gifts, and then we're going to have the cake."

"Sure, everything's fine," he replied as they walked back to the empty kitchen.

"Good. The other three have already gone out to the pavilion."

As Scott walked ahead, Chris grabbed his wrist. "Actually, there's something I have to mention."

"Well, I'm intrigued. Let's hear it."

He glanced through the French doors at Keona, Acton, and Amy outside under a sky that was beginning to gray with thick, dark clouds. He searched for the confidence to speak. "I'm having a bit of a problem with Malick right now. He won't leave me alone."

Scott's eyes penetrated his self-consciousness—a wordless, unwavering stare that showed no surprise or trepidation. Chris continued: "He wants to join us for Keona's birthday, and I've told him no, but he won't listen to me."

Since Scott gave no response, he added, "He's—standing outside the front gate as we speak."

Scott's laughter breathed through his smile. "Well, this isn't surprising at all."

Chris was bewildered by Scott's humor. Scott filled his silence. "I think you should go and let him in, then." His smile was stained with mischief. "He's put a lot of effort into this, I see. He deserves a little reward for his persistence."

"You mean you don't want him to go home?"

"Nope. It's my first opportunity to meet the young man that I've heard so many fine things about."

"I don't think you understand the threat he poses."

"Why say no? You go and let him in, and bring him around back with the rest of us."

Chris gaped at Scott's casual saunter toward the back door. Before exiting, he turned again to Chris and said, "Don't keep these things from us like they're so dangerous. If this boy is anything like his father, he won't be nearly as treacherous as he wants you to believe."

"But he's nothing like his father, Scott. It's like you're telling me to let the Devil into Paradise, and I'm having a hard time going along with your request."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, this world has never been anything like Paradise. Let him in. I want to see the Devil's face."