Off the Deep End (18)
In a town as small as ours, everyone knew everybody else, and roles were practically assigned at birth. Certain last names always came with special rights and privileges. They carried a level of popularity and prestige whether you’d done anything worthy enough to receive it or not. Our family didn’t have the right last name, and we weren’t community-grown folk, which automatically put us in the “other” category.
We didn’t know small-town culture then and had no idea that’s what it would be like when we made the move from the East Coast. We were ready to start building our family, and we loved the idea of leaving the big city behind and settling down into a slower-paced life. It was a perfect location for both our jobs since each of our respective employers had headquarters there. We craved the small-town life, having spent the majority of ours in big cities. We just weren’t prepared for some of the unexpected challenges it brought once we started having kids.
Unlike us, the Harts were one of the most well-known families in Falcon Lake. Gabe had all the things Falcon Lake loved—the right last name, the looks, the family, the money, even the talent. The kid was amazing at everything he tried and always had been. He wasn’t one of those kids who was gifted in just one particular area. Like they were an amazing soccer player, but they couldn’t do anything else, or they could play the guitar by ear but got terrible grades. Gabe wasn’t like that at all. He was talented across the spectrum. He won awards for the fastest mile and also took first place in the science fair. He was the star basketball player on the junior varsity team at the same time he was on track to be our grade’s valedictorian. It was remarkable stuff, and you couldn’t help being impressed by him.
Isaac had never run in his circles. He hadn’t sat with his group at sharing time on the rug in kindergarten or ever been one of the kids at Gabe’s lunch table throughout all their years at school. Isaac was a shifter and didn’t like groups. He never attached himself to a particular one, and he preferred one close friend rather than many. Gabe was the total opposite. He thrived in groups and loved being the center of attention. I rarely ever saw him without a few friends attached to him.
The boys were different when it came to their education too. Isaac had always struggled with schoolwork. A learning disability made school even more challenging for him. He’d always played sports, so they’d been on the same teams, but they were never on the same level. Gabe was a starter, and Isaac was consistently second string.
So, besides the unfortunate luck of being in the car with him that night, Isaac wasn’t any closer to Gabe than most people. He wasn’t in his inner space. If I had to bet, I’d say they probably didn’t say one word to each other the entire drive home. It only happened because I couldn’t find anyone else to give him a ride home. Asking Jules for anything with Isaac was always a last resort, but I didn’t have a choice that night because I couldn’t get a hold of anyone else, and I was stuck in the city with Katie at her dance rehearsal.
That’s why I didn’t understand why Isaac was still so wrecked. If anything, he should’ve come back from his near-death experience with a newfound zeal and spark for life. That’s what most people did after they’d survived something terrible. They walked around like everything was fresh and brand new again and exuded a sense of appreciation for simply being alive. That never happened with Isaac. Not even close.
I traveled back mentally to a similar incident when I’d found him curled up on his bed. I was searching for something I’d missed. That’s how I spent my days and my nights—rewinding footage, digging for clues, and beating myself up for all the things I should’ve done differently.
“Can I sit?” I had asked, doing my best to sound nonthreatening. He gave a small nod. I sat on the edge of the bed. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him. So many things I wanted to say, but I forced myself to keep quiet because he was finally letting me near him when he was hurting. Even if he wouldn’t let me touch him, at least I could be with him on the bed, and he would know he wasn’t alone. I just didn’t want him to be alone in the awful dark place with his pain. I had no idea how big it was at the time until after a few minutes had passed and he suddenly burst into tears all over again.
“It should’ve been me, Mom,” he said in a choking sob. “It should’ve been me.”
“Oh honey.” It took every amount of restraint in me not to wrap my arms around him and hold him tight, but I didn’t want to scare him away. Instead, I slowly reached for his ankle and rubbed his lower leg. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. “That’s absolutely not true.”
“It is. It is and you know it. You know it’s true,” he cried, snot bubbling from his nose and getting all over the pillow. “Everyone wishes it was me. Everyone.” His face was contorted into nothing but raw pain.
“No, they don’t. Nobody thinks that,” I said with as much firmness as I could put in my voice, hoping I sounded convincing. No one had even come close to voicing something like that out loud, but it wasn’t lost on anyone that the golden boy was the one who hadn’t made it.
He shook his head. “I’m not mad at them. I’m not. It’s because they’re right. They’re right, and everyone knows they’re right. Even you.” He hurled the last part at me.
“Stop it. Stop saying that,” I cried. I wanted to slap those words out of his mouth. “None of that is true. Do you hear me? None of it.” I tried to look at him, but he’d covered his face with his arms. “What happened was a terrible tragedy and completely random. Nobody thinks otherwise. Both of your lives matter. You’re equally important.”