Page 3 of Loud Places

That’s why, when the police had come to his house on a warm August evening to question him about the whereabouts of his best friend Matty, sixteen-year-old Ethan had told them that he didn’t know anything. That he had no idea. Because it hadn’t exactly been a lie, had it? He hadn’t known for sure where Matty had gone off to—and he sure as shit wasn’t gonna tell Deputy Thomas Wilson that he had an idea. Because Deputy Wilson worked for Chief Craig and no matter what, Chief Craig was never to find Matty again. Ethan just wished that Matty would’ve waited for him because all along it had been their plan to run away together. That was the worst part, Ethan had thought, as he’d sat between his parents, a tight feeling in his chest. That his best friend had left town, had bailed on him. But once Deputy Wilson had gotten to the next part and the whole reason behind his late visit, Ethan had known why there was no way that Matty could’ve waited for him.

Sitting on the worn green couch between his parents, Ethan had fisted his hands in the soft fabric while Wilson recounted what had happened at the Craig house earlier that evening. Fixing his gaze on the white curtains hanging from the living room window, Ethan had heard bits and pieces from the serious conversation between the grown-ups. The monotonous voice of the deputy had blurred into the background accompanied by the occasional gasp slipping from his mom’s peach-colored lips. His dad had gotten up from the couch at one point and had begun walking restlessly around the small living room until his mom had asked him toplease sit down again, Dan, you’re making me nervous.

Chief Craig had been hit over the head with a baseball bat. At least that’s what Fiona Craig had told the 911 operator, when she’d called in at 7:41 p.m. She’d sounded calm and when the operator had asked her if the perpetrator was still in the house, she’d replied in a neutral voice that, no, her fifteen-year-old son had just left their home in the family truck. The operator had asked Mrs. Craig if she could please repeat that part but by then she’d already hung up the phone.

Arriving at the scene at the same time as the paramedics, the local police, which consisted of Deputy Wilson and his partner Aaron Wilkowski, had found an unconscious police chief in a pool of bright red blood which had already begun seeping into the hardwood floor beneath him. Fiona Craig, who according to the deputy looked like she’d taken a fall from the fifth floor of a building, had asked him if he wanted a cup of coffee—or she could also re-heat some leftovers for him in case he’d had to interrupt his family dinner. Guiding her to the beige recliner in the family den, Deputy Wilson had wrapped her in a multi-colored quilt and poured her a generous glass of Marker’s Make. Placing the glass of auburn liquid into her trembling hands, he’d pulled out his notebook with the intention of questioning Mrs. Craig.

With her frail voice nothing but a whisper, Deputy Wilson had had to lean in closely towards the battered woman. Taking in her injuries, he’d once again asked her what had happened, but he’d suspected that the poor woman was slowly slipping into a state of shock. She appeared incoherent and withdrawn when he tried to question her. Repeating the same sentence continuously, Fiona had rocked back and forth in the recliner, the quilt slowly slipping from her bony shoulders.My Matty is a good boy… He’s a good boy, my Matty…

So yeah, when Deputy Wilson had asked Ethan if he knew where Matty could’ve gone off to, he had lied. He had lied because telling the truth wasn’t an option. Because Ethan very well knew that Fiona Craig often looked like she’d taken a fall from a high building, and it must have been real bad this particular evening if Matty had taken a baseball bat to his father’s head. Real bad.

Ethan shook his head, the disturbing memory of that night once again fading into the shadows. Looking at the hand-drawn map, he couldn’t help smiling at Matty’s innocent handwriting and how the then eleven-year-old Matty had insisted on the title that afternoon in the tree house.Purfekt Plases.Ethan remembered figuring that Matty needed it more than he did. Believing that there was such a thing as a perfect place out there. He hadn’t had the heart to tell Matty that he’d spelled it incorrectly—if Matty believed in perfect places, he also knew how to spell the words perfectly. Matty had always been just that. Perfect in every way. Ethan didn’t understand how others couldn’t see that because to him it was clear as fucking day. Matty was his friend and therefore he was perfect.

Even though the map had been folded again and again over the years and the colors had faded some, he could still make out all the small Xs on the paper. The largest one of them represented some imaginary spot on the coast of Maine. A small fishing town without a name. Only now it had one.Grant’s Harbor.He tasted the words on his tongue. Could that be it? Was Matty really in Maine? Well, Grant’s Harbor was as good a place as any to start looking, he guessed.

The name doesn’t matter. Anything is better than Eden,Matty had said.We’ll know when we get there, Eth. We’ll know when to stop running.

Ethan had finally given in. Matty had been right. It didn’t matter as long as they were together. And now they weren’t, and not knowing the whereabouts of his favorite person in the world made it hard to breathe. It made Ethan want to curl up into a ball and squeeze his eyes shut. But then again, that wouldn’t help him find Matty. So, he’d better get a move on.

Approximately two thousand miles lay between Eden, Texas, and the state of Maine. Ethan hoped that he would make it past Dallas and reach Sulphur Springs by early evening. Then tomorrow he’d reach Ouachita National Forest, the first stop on their map.

When his mom had asked him why he intended to stop at all the Xs instead of going straight to Maine, he’d exhaled deeply, looking into her familiar, patient eyes. He didn’t know what to tell her. Except that it was like learning how to swim. He had to ease into it—he couldn’t just jump in at the deep end of the pool. Ethan had never been someone who just jumped right into things. He needed to prepare himself for the coldness of the water, the depth of the pool and the feeling in the back of your mind that you could drown any minute. It had to be gradual. It just had to be.

CHAPTER FIVE

Matty – Then

“HOW MUCH DOESa boat cost?” Matty squinted at the gloriously blue Texas sky above before he turned his head towards Ethan.

“I don’t know, man. What kinda boat?” Ethan had his eyes closed, dark-auburn hair falling away from his sun-kissed face. It had been a much brighter shade when they were younger, Matty remembered, but as the years went by Ethan’s hair had turned darker still—much like the color of Matty’s own eyes. The once soft blue tones had gradually sunk into a much darker shade of blue. That was the sum of Matty’s life. Sinking. Falling from lightness into darkness.

Lying in the middle of the wheatfield behind Ethan’s house was one of their favorite pastimes during summer break. Whenever they could get away from chores, they’d run out into the field, laughing at each other until Matty would launch himself at Ethan. They’d land in a bed of straw-yellow wheat, giggling, trying to catch their breath. Matty always wondered how Ethan’s smile seemed to stretch all the way up to the corners of his sparkling eyes—and even further beyond. Like his whole being was set on fire with happiness whenever they were together. Matty had practiced one day in front of the mirror in the bathroom but no matter how much he tried, the smile wouldn’t reach all the way up into his blue eyes. Maybe it was genetic, he figured. Maybe he was just born that way. Inheriting it from his mother. Her rare, weak smiles never reached her eyes either.

“Just a small boat, you know. Some fishing boat or somethin’.” It was August and school break was almost over. While Ethan had grown several inches since school ended in May, Matty was still small for his age. He knew that. And he wasn’t only small when he compared himself to his best friend. Matty’s figure was much slighter than most of their classmates, and he was slim in all the places where Ethan was beginning to fill out with layers of muscle.

Matty knew that the other kids at school often wondered what a popular kid like Ethan Bishop was doing with the weak and skinny Matty Craig. Hell, most days Matty wondered too. But there seemed to be no doubt on Ethan’s part that Matty was his best friend in the world and that Ethan intended for it to stay that way. As if the six-year-old Ethan had made a life choice that day at baseball practice that Matty was his to keep. If he could just live in a world where it was just him and Ethan, things would be a whole lot simpler. But for now, he had to share Ethan, which was okay, he guessed. Because he secretly knew that Ethan liked him best of all—well, maybe second best to Ethan’s mom, Belinda. Matty didn’t exactly blame him. With her beautiful, curly hair and fierce green eyes, Belinda Bishop was fucking awesome, a Texan mountain lioness if there ever was one. And she baked the meanest apple pie with the kinda crust that crumbled just right when you dug into the first bite.

A prickly sensation spread like an out-of-control wildfire in Matty’s chest. Another school year meant one step closer to getting away with Ethan. One year closer to getting on the road, feeling the wind sweeping across his face. One year closer to never looking back. He knew that Ethan didn’t feel the same way. They hadn’t exactly talked about it, but Matty knew that Ethan wasn’t running, he was going. He would come back again. For Christmases and Thanksgivings. For birthdays and maybe the Fourth of July for the parade. Matty would never come back once they left Eden. There was reason to.

“A small boat?” Ethan repeated. “Uhm, I don’t know, man. But it should be fine with what I’m savin’ from Peterson’s and what you’re gettin’ from Miller’s.” Ethan looked at him, face contemplative for just a second. “Wewillget away, Matty. And youwillget your boat. Don’t worry about it. Itwillbe enough.”

It was the strangest thing. Whenever Ethan made a promise, it came true. Just like the time when Ethan had reassured him that Kelly Harrold was into him, and Matty had gotten his first kiss behind the bleachers at the football game against the Abilene Eagles. Or when Ethan had told him that he just had to ask old Miller if he could use a hand at the hardware store. Mr. Miller had given Matty a job without the blink of an eye. That was six months ago now. Matty hoped that this time it would come true as well.

“What do you wanna call her?” Ethan spoke between the straw of wheat between his lips.

“Huh? What do you mean,” Matty traced the flight of a bird across the clear, blue sky, watching it soar above their heads. The orange-red tail feathers gave it away. He knew most of the birds in this area. This beauty was the red-tailed hawk. One of Matty’s favorites. You would even see it perched on a fence post from time to time, gazing out into the vastness of the Blackland Prairies.

“The boat. What do you wanna call her?”

“I don’t know… I haven’t thought about it. Why? And why does it have to be ashe?” Matty sat up and looked down at his best friend. Ethan had always been the smart one between them. It wasn’t that Matty was dumb or anything even though the word had often been thrown at him along withstupid, uselessandcrybabyat home and at school. Ethan told him all the time that he was smart enough. Matty just knew different stuff from what they taught at Eden City School. Like what the West Texas sky would look like exactly thirty minutes before a storm was coming. Or when the corn was just about ready to be harvested. Or the amount of different insect species in all of Texas. Matty had a thing with bugs. Yeah, he may know about things like that, but Matty wasn’t good at stuff that the teachers cared about. Or stuff that would land you a free ride to a college somewhere fancy—or heck, just anywhere—and the fuck outta Eden.

“Boats are alwaysshes,doofus,” Ethan winked and ruffled Matty’s head of blond hair. That had always been their thing. Whenever Ethan would wink at Matty, he knew that he was joking. It was okay when Ethan called himdoofusordumbassbecause there was always a fondness in his voice when the words were spoken. So unlike the meanness and cruelty which tinted his father’s snarl when the same words were thrown at him in anger or maybe even hate.

Yeah, Matty had never really figured out why his father hated him. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when he realized that his father despised him. No, it’d just always been that way. The feral glimmer of loathing in his father’s icy blue eyes whenever he’d speak to him. Or rather at him. The hint of contempt in every little remark that he would grit out between his teeth. Sometimes the hateful slurs were accompanied by just a drop or two of spittle settling on his father’s thin lower lip or landing on Matty’s nose or chin.

Yeah, the beautiful boy lying next to Matty didn’t have one mean bone in this body. Ethan wasn’t only his best friend in the whole world. He was everything that was bright and good. He was the beacon that Matty searched for whenever he felt lost. The comforting thought, which was always in the back of Matty’s mind, reminding him that theywouldget away one day soon. And that every day spent listening to his father’s random ranting was just one day closer to never having to listen to that SOB again.

“Stella, I guess,” Matty’s voice came out as a whisper, almost swallowed up by the sound of the grasshoppers and of the yellow wheat swaying in the August breeze. “Like a star, you know. Shining in the night sky.”

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