A Purple Winter Read online

  Nick.

  “Because he will, Derek. He won’t pull through. Not this time. He watched me die. But you…No. He’ll sink like a stone. The river will get him. There will be no more handstands by the rapids. This time he slips and never comes back up.”

  Staring at David’s urgent eyes, I nodded, knowing he was speaking the truth.

  “I have always been at his side, Derek.” David’s voice was low and serious. “Through it all. I try to guide him and speak to him in dreams. I was there when he looked you up years after I’d died. He was so lonely. Working late at Split, his restaurant. Everyone had left. He found your profile on some bank’s website. Derek O’Reilly, financial consultant. Your picture. You were twenty-seven. I stood behind him as he leaned in closer to the computer screen, staring at your beautiful face, that face he’d never stopped thinking about. That night, I whispered to him. Go. Seek him out. But he was afraid. He’s always been a little afraid of you. And now I understand why.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re the only thing in his life he can’t forsake or leave behind. You and his son.”

  A surge of will went through me. Couldn’t do this to Nick for one more minute. Couldn’t torture him this way. “How do I get back to him?”

  “You tap your heels three times.”

  “Are you shitting me?”

  He laughed. “I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that.” He peered over my shoulder. “Ms. Saint-Jacques…explain it to him, please.”

  I turned to see Aunt Fran standing right by me. “So, you’ve come to your senses?”

  If I left them, I’d never see them again. “Aunt Fran—”

  “We’ll meet again someday, my Red.” She touched my face. “But not for a while. You’re going to miss me. And I thank you for that. Your love echoes through time and space. That’s all the universe is. Just an ongoing conversation between the living and the dead.”

  How could I say goodbye now that I was here with these two precious friends? I was young and the future was mine to make up. I could stay here, in this realm and never grow old. Never know the frustration, disappointment, stress, and disenchantment that adulthood held in store for me. Why go back to a world run by madmen? Why suffer under the burden of all those tedious responsibilities? I could ride shot gun in Nick’s car forever. We’d be secluded from history’s time line. Lost in this parallel world. It would be winter. It would be 1987. It would be always.

  “You were never really good with reality.” Aunt Fran squeezed my arm. “That’s what dreams are for, baby.” She sighed. “And this was a long and beautiful one.”

  “Lucky,” David said, narrowing his dark eyes, “you’re going back to him. He’s suffered enough. I command you to. Do you understand?”

  “So how does this work? You’re telling me I’m in a coma and that all I need to do is…open my eyes? I’m not sure I can do that. I mean—”

  “You need to be shocked back into your mind.” David rolled a narrow bed my way. It appeared out of nowhere. The bed was draped with a white sheet. “Lie down.”

  I shot Aunt Fran a quizzical look. “I’m not doing anything kinky in front of you.”

  “I see you still have a dirty mind. Just lie down.”

  I hesitated, looking at them both. “Why? What happens next?”

  “The accident.” David patted the firm mattress. “Come. It’ll be quick and painful.”

  Aunt Fran shoved me forward gently. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll be with you the whole time. I won’t leave your side. I’ll see you through.”

  “Wait—you mean—”

  “Lucky, there isn’t any more time to waste.” David pushed me back against the bed. “Lie down. I need to get back to Nick. There’s no other way. You will have to suffer. You will have to experience the awesome fear of death. Only then can you understand the value of life. Real life. Not some coma-induced fantasy.”

  “My accident,” I said, sitting and leaning back a little, “how bad was it? What happened exactly?”

  “You were going one-hundred and twenty kilometers per hour when you hit a rain puddle on the highway and skidded off into the next lane, sliding approximately fifty meters, still straddling your bike, before hitting the ditch and being ejected off your seat.”

  My blood turned to ice.

  “Yeah,” David said with a smirk. “It hurt.” He pushed me back against the mattress. “But you survive and then you open your eyes and release Nick from his agony.”

  “I don’t think I can do this.” Panic made my throat burn. “I think I need to contemplate a little longer and—”

  “Shh.” David bent to me, stopping close to my face. “It won’t last very long and when you wake up, you won’t remember any of it.” He caressed my hair. “Now close your eyes.”

  “Aunt Fran?” I called out, tensing all over.

  “I’m right here, hon.” She stood over me, smiling down at me. “Everything is gonna be okay. You’ll be in Nick’s arms in a few seconds.”

  “I have to say goodbye now, Lucky. But only for a few decades.” David put his hand over my heart. “Be good to him as only you know how. Love him for me. Cherish the union. Make it last forever. Live well. Try to give each other peace. And I’ll see you both when it’s ordained.”

  “It’s so hard to leave you, David.” I sat up and pulled him into my arms, holding him tight, tighter. “Why does it feel like you were robbed of everything? And that I have all of the treasures that were stolen from you?”

  “It’s not your fault, Derek.” He leaned away and peered into my eyes. “And it’s not mine. But I don’t have the answers you seek.” He pressed his lips to mine. “What I do know…is that if you stay here one minute longer,” he said against my cheek, “I’ll remember what being alive and human was, and it will hurt so much.”

  “Go, David,” Aunt Fran said, going around the bed to take him by the shoulder. “You’ve been strong enough. Now go to Nick.” She led him away. “It’s over. That part is over.” She was ushering him out.

  “David!” I cried, my eyes trying to adjust to the sudden glare in the room. I couldn’t see him anymore. Couldn’t make out the shape of him against Aunt Fran. “David! Thank you! David! I love you! You’ll never die in my heart!”

  But he was gone.

  Overwhelmed with grief and regret, I hid my face inside my hands.

  “Why are you crying, Derek? Don’t you understand that we live on?” She moved my hands away from my face. Her green eyes sparkled with affection and serenity. “You don’t belong here. You’re not ready. That’s why it hurts.” She kissed my forehead. “Now close your eyes. Take a deep breath. You’re going back.”

  “Wait.”

  “Derek—”

  “No, wait.” I grabbed her hands, holding them tight. “I need to tell you this because I never got the chance back then.” I took a shaky breath and held her hands up to my chest. “You shaped me. You made me who I am. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think of you. I will be forever indebted to you, Francine. I will never forget you. And even when I’m an old man, I will remember what it was like to be twelve, lonely, poor, neglected, and how all that changed the day you moved into our little apartment in Verdun. You brought the world with you. Magic and books and stories and music. I will always think back on that winter as the winter Nick left, but now I understand that it was also the winter you showed me the meaning of love. And it is because of you, only you, that I was able to fall in love later in life. You are the reason I am the man I am today.”

  Aunt Fran watched me closely, her stare roaming over my face as though she was taking a picture with her mind.

  Then she put her hand over my eyes.

  Everything went black.

  Goodbye, my little enchanter. My darling, Derek. We are linked forever.

  Now you ride…

  Chapter 23

  That’s it!

  I’m done. I’m so bloody done, Nick!

/>   This highway is my refuge from you and your stubborn, punitive silence! I’m gonna ride this highway all night, if I have to. And yes, in the rain. Yes, in this nasty weather and I hope I do have a bloody accident and that you stand above my wreck and cry and plead with Thor or Frieda—all the bloody deities of your homeland, and then maybe, just maybe, you’ll understand that I’m the one who holds us together, you supremely arrogant bastard!

  You wanna move back to Montreal? Fine, we’ll move back to Montreal. Good, good, yes. We’ll go tomorrow. We’ll do what the almighty Nicolai Blue Lund wants. And anyway, how could I even try to change your mind. Your mind is a great big ship loaded with ammunition and cannons and I’m that stupid tug boat supposed to what? Steer you? How could I possibly?

  You’re so strong, Nick. Don’t you know you’re like a god to me? I have worshiped you all my life and you’ve been worth my adoration. You’ve taken us to heights I never fathomed. You made us rich. You made us powerful. In your hands everything becomes important, useful, part of creation. The first time you made love to me, I knew you’d ruined me for others. No other man could ever stand up to you and it was fine while we were happy, but when the darkness visits you, when it drives you to do and say things I can’t even recall without sobbing, I’m left so alone, and the desolation—oh, you have no idea, Nick Lund. You can’t know what it’s like to love and lose you. You can’t understand the depth, the bottomless pit, in which you’ve left me in those times you decided to pursue a dream, an idea, another lover.

  I’ve hated you sometimes for how much I need you. I’ve deserted you in my mind a thousand times. I’ve managed to do it once, remember? But you circled my heart like a great white shark until I knew you could smell my blood in my veins. My blood is your blood.

  We’re the same kind. You said that once. What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours. But of what of our souls? Do I owe mine to you? Or have you already taken it?

  Now that we’ve come this far, you say you wanna go back and start again. You wanna sell the house, the family car, the stuff, the crap, the junk. You wanna dismantle our suburban life and box it up or burn it. You wanna go back to Split, your first restaurant. You wanna open it again. Wanna show them all you can succeed twice in a business that barely allows anyone to succeed once.

  You wanna be the Chef again and you want me to run the show with you, but behind the curtain, of course. The magician with the calculator, doing the famous balancing-the-checkbook act.

  Well, what if I say no? What if I like the house, in-ground pool, Jacuzzi, picket fence, flower pots, produce garden, paved driveway, trimmed hedges, red maple trees, speed bumps, cul de sacs, dog park, school zone speed limits, air-conditioned, maze-like, organic foods grocery store, bike paths, scenic routes, river front barbecues, overpriced imported beer store, stop signs at every vacant intersection, mowing the lawn in my rain boots, being caught in traffic every day of every week of every month of every year, waxing my car on Saturday afternoons, smiling through the grind of my days, being a bloody hypocrite, surviving the plague of white washed, straight washed culture, licking stamps, paying bills, trading airmiles for credit debt, taking consumer surveys, faking interest at PTA meetings, measuring my waist line instead of my self-worth, drinking almond milk when I want a beer, snacking on dry chick peas when I feel like Pringles, doing the right thing though it feels wrong, turning the news off at eleven fifteen and sinking into a sleep that is neither restorative nor peaceful.

  And then dreaming. Yes, at last, escaping.

  In this dream, I come home to find you cooking. You’re clad in those blue jeans and a white muscle shirt. Maybe you’re a little drunk on your favorite Cabernet Sauvignon. Graceful, deadly, superb, you’re chopping and dicing, and in the background, some strange oriental music you’ve just discovered is playing. It’s ancient, gorgeous, profound, enticing. You turn to me. Give me that look. The wolf’s look. Within seconds, I’m out of my clothes, under you, and we’re going at it right there on the kitchen counter, skin on skin, and now whatever you’re whispering in my ear I’m already agreeing to.

  Later, carefree, ecstatic, peaceful, utterly happy we sit and gaze in each other’s eyes like fools, eating your debauchery of a meal, throwing wine back like Roman soldiers stranded in Jerusalem under a blazing white moon, laughing at a joke only we know the punch line to. In those moments, in this dream, I look into your blue eyes and know that I’d kill any beast, man, or insect that would dare hurt a golden hair on your head.

  But it never lasts, Nick.

  I wake up one night and you’re not in bed. The cool sheets tell me we’re gonna be in a storm again. Why can’t you stay in one place? Why can’t you grow old and complacent like the rest of us? Why must you blow down every card castle I build?

  I’m bloody sick of it. I’m throwing down my sword. Ripping off the uniform. You’re right, Nick. Oh, you’re so right. I hate it. I hate it all.

  Help me forgive you. Help me find my way back to you again. I want to let go of the bitterness, but you’ve got to meet me half way on this.

  I’ll go with you again. I’ll follow you down this new path, one more time. The last, maybe. I’ll be your side kick, your first mate, your partner and conspirator, but if you’re ever cheap with me again, if you ever lessen our love the way you have in the past, I’ll destroy you in my mind, kill the myth that you are to me…

  The rain is turning to sleet and I’m driving too fast.

  Need to calm down. To slow down.

  But something warns me. Don’t reduce speed too fast. Don’t.

  When I hit the deep puddle of water I’m aware I’ve lost all traction. The tires have no grip. The moment for caution is behind me, I’m nothing but flesh and bones straddled over machinery, and my hands gripping the bike handles won’t stop the panicked steel stallion under me. I’m skidding at a speed that will only be controlled by a collision and now I know that I was once an imaginative child with a stutter, that I grew hardened but never hopeless, that I read, watched, listened, learned, ingested, digested, drank, slept, worked, studied, ran, walked, jumped, ached, cried, laughed, observed, questioned, doubted, believed, fell, stood, lied, cheated, forgave, begged, pleaded, bargained, wrote, played, toyed, envied, made love, got drunk, high, down, and that I was, have been, and will be. But everything I thought was important, is useless to me now, in this instant. All I have, as I hit the puddle of water, is myself. The mystery is revealed. The lucidity is like the sound of metal over pavement. Loud and unstoppable.

  I understand. I understand. I understand.

  The force of the hit knocks the air, thoughts, sanity out of me and I’m nothing but a piece of cloth in the hands of pain. The speed of this moment wrenches me off the wheel of time and I spin and tumble through the air, but when my body is propelled from the Ducati’s seat, my mind is still hitting that puddle of water—still waiting for impact.

  Then there is an earthquake and the walls of my cranium come crashing down into my brain, every window of my mind shattering all at once, as shards of glass and dark matter meet somewhere under my eyes in colors so brilliant they wipe out memories and feelings.

  All there is left is your name, my love.

  Like a chant. A pulse. An incantation. An omen.

  A promise.

  Nicolai…

  Chapter 24

  I wanted to rest a little longer.

  The idea of moving anything, even my eyelids, seemed almost impossible. Then again, it was only a matter of willpower. I could feel the light of day on my face. The night had been long. My slumber, deep.

  I must have slept on my right arm. There was a dull pain in my muscles. Was I tangled in the sheets? I felt constricted, unable to cut free of something. Was Nick lying over me? Was that his hair on my arm? My throat. Oh, I was so parched. Needed water. Had to wake up and ask Nick to get me a glass of water.

  What was that sound? That beeping. Was that our alarm? Was it Monday or Sunday?

  Had
to focus on the simple task of opening my eyes. Summoning all my energy, I concentrated on the movement of my eyes as they rolled under their lids. The movement seemed so rapid and erratic. Was I even awake or in the throes of an REM sleep?

  I saw something. A slit of light through my fluttering blond eyelashes. I was paralyzed, tucked into a cocoon. Through the sliver, I could glimpse a room. The beginning of a wall. Sunlight catching in the dust. I tried wetting my lips, but my tongue wouldn’t cooperate. Had to let Nick know I was slipping into some kind of seizure. Had to wake him. Using all my strength, I made a sound, a moan that barely shook my wind wipe. But nothing stirred around me. I tried again. This time, managing a grunt. The sound of my voice jolted my eyes open, and I slowly gazed around, my eyes moving inside their sockets, my neck remaining stiff and immobile. I was in a hospital room.

  My heart sped as I took in the details around me. A heart monitor. A closed door. An empty chair. Then I glanced down as far as I could see. There was Nick’s long blond hair on my stomach. His face was turned away. With his head cradled inside his arms, he seemed to be asleep on my stomach. My hand was inside his. I could feel his fingers around mine. I pushed everything I had into my index finger. Could I wiggle it? Would that alert him?

  As I struggled to move, I could sense my life force rolling through me, warm and steady, filling my body with sensations, and I knew that if I opened my mouth, I would say his name.

  “Nick,” I heard myself groan. “Nick…”

  He started awake, his head popping up, his eyes, like two giant wells of blue light, met mine. For a moment, he stared at me, his expression changing with every beat of my heart. Then he brought my hand to his eyes and covered them with my fingers and his. His tears were hot on my skin, streaming gently down the side of my hand. “Oh, God,” he said, clutching my hand. “Thank you. Thank you.” There was such relief in his voice, but anguish, too. “Never again.”

  I didn’t know what he meant by that, but I didn’t need to ask. Later. We’d say it all later. “What…” I tried speaking louder. “Happened.”