The Soul Catcher - Alex Kava [122]
That’s when she saw the young man, standing in the shadows, next to the back exit. When he realized he had been discovered, he came to her, slowly, head down, one hand in his pocket, the other holding out a towel to her.
A towel. She wanted to laugh. What she really needed was a bottle, a fucking bottle of anything…Jack Daniel’s, Absolut…Hell, rubbing alcohol would do the job. But she took the towel and began gently wiping her face and then her arms, working her way over her body, trying to not think about the black-and-blue marks, trying to pretend…How the hell could she pretend? No, she could do it. She had done it before. She’d be okay. She just needed to steady herself. Was the room spinning? Or was it her imagination?
He was helping her sit. He was saying something to her, taking the towel and leaving. Was he gone? Did he decide she was a lost cause? Had he left her, just like the rest of them? But suddenly, he was back at her side. Two of him this time, handing her the towel. A fresh one, but this one damp.
She dabbed her forehead, the back of her neck, and then pulled up her sleeves and dabbed at the insides of her wrists. Already she was feeling better. This time when she looked up she found only one of him. And thank God, the room…it finally sat still. The young man seemed preoccupied. He was staring at her wrists. Or rather, he was staring at the hideous horizontal scars she had uncovered when she pulled up the sleeves of her knit cardigan.
“Believe me,” she said to him, “I’ll know how to do it right the next time.”
CHAPTER 64
Justin wanted to tell the woman that he understood, that he had thought about offing himself so many times he had the methods categorized. But he had never known someone older, someone who reminded him of his mother—and she did remind him an awful lot of his mother—who had actually tried it.
“Ma’am, are you okay now?” he asked. “Because I really should be helping load and haul stuff.”
“I’ll be fine.” She smiled at him and pushed down the sleeves. “My name’s Kathleen. No need to call me ma’am. But then, I guess you should already know my name after tonight.”
“I’m Justin,” he said.
“Well, thanks for your help, Justin.”
He nodded at her. “I know you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Then he turned and left out the back exit. He needed to get back to the kitchen. Back to packing boxes with cans of beans and soup and enough rice to gag a small nation. Maybe he was trying too hard to be helpful, but he knew he had fucked up big time in Boston. Since they returned, he was half expecting to end up with that boa constrictor around his neck. He knew how close he had come to being the one standing in front of the room. Maybe that’s why he had to go back and help this woman, this Kathleen. That and because she reminded him of his mom. He hadn’t realized until tonight that he actually missed his mom. And he missed Eric. Now he wondered if Eric was ever really coming back.
At first, he thought he wouldn’t be allowed to go to Cleveland, to the next prayer rally. That would have been okay by him. In fact, he was thinking maybe he’d just leave the compound while the others were away. He was pretty sure he could find his way back into Shenandoah National Park. He had done it last time without really trying. But then Alice told him he was on the list, the fucking anointed list that got to go.
He found the old lady named Mavis and helped her load the steel cart full of cartons into the buses’ storage compartments. Some of the compartments were already loaded with other boxes. Inside both buses, the overhead compartments looked filled beyond capacity. A woman from the laundry room instructed Justin to place all the boxes she had brought on another steel cart under the seats.
“They have to fit. Make them fit,” she told him, and left.
These were labeled: Shirts, Undergarments, Towels. Why would they be needing all this crap for a two-night trip? He stuffed the last one under the driver’s seat just as Alice came up the bus steps with an armful of blankets. He helped