Kayden
by Ryan Keith
Chapter 4 - Kayden's Past: Part 1
I've always hated hospitals. The smell, the clean walls, everything. I've never really liked the way everything is so neat and clean in hospitals. Scares the shit out of me. Often makes me think I'm in some kind of laboratory where scientists can run all kinds of inhumane tests or whatever.
During one of the swimming practices a few years back a couple of guys and I were fooling around at the side of the pool. Playful pushing sent me into the water headfirst, and I grazed my head on the sidewall. I ended up in the hospital for several days, and got a month's worth of lectures from my coach and my dad.
As I recalled that memory from my childhood, thoughts of the previous night were popping into my head. I wanted to know about the guys who attacked us.
A full recovery was expected for me. Besides a few bruises on my chest, minor cuts, and stitches on my arm, I was ready to leave. Shin was as loud as usual. At first they were worried he might have gotten a concussion in addition to his bruises, but after a few tests, the docs agreed to release him as soon as possible. A nurse told me he was being a loud pain in the ass. I could easily see Shin being that. He's extremely restless, and the order to stay in a bed would make him crazy. Scott was in the best condition of all of us. He didn't have any bruises or scratches, just a cut lip. He didn't even stay the night. His parents picked him up.
I was really worried about what the parents of my friends would think. They all had trusted my dad's belief that everything would go smoothly for us in Toronto. I was worried that they wouldn't see Dad in the same light as they did before. My doubts were put aside when I was told otherwise.
Apparently, Scott's parents expected something like this might happen, and they were really upset with him. Scott's father was a really bad kid when he was our age, so he wasn't too worried, but his mom blamed his dad. She thinks some of his lust for danger runs through Scott's blood. Scott and his dad do have a lot in common. Way back in the seventies, Mr. Kendal had been one of those people with Afros and hippy clothing. Scott thinks his parents are cool. They always treat me right; they're like an aunt and uncle to me.
Shin's mom was hysterical. She looked over her son from head to toe, making sure he was okay. I think she did more damage to him than the people who attacked him. Shin's dad was really upset. When they called him at home, he had assumed the worst. Shin is an only child, and I can see why his father was upset. Dad told me he was on the verge of tears. I felt sorry for Shin. For a really easygoing guy, disappointing his father was unacceptable. He tries too hard to please his parents, and at times he neglects himself to do so.
Jett's family was disruptive, even though Jett wasn't in the fight. His mom was ordering the nurses around, trying to ensure we were taken care of properly.
Finally, there was Kayden. No one came for him. In fact, he had been discharged. After being in the emergency room for his hand, he went downtown for questioning. His hand was injured badly, but no loss of use is expected. There's no doubt going to be a permanent scar. It pained me to know that he had scarred his beautiful hand for me. There was so much I still didn't know, so much I wanted to know that Dad didn't have answers to, so I couldn't ask him.
The day after the attack was too quiet. Shin and Scott had gone home. They had wanted to see me, but I was asleep. Well they did see me; I just didn't see them. I hadn't seen Jett or Kade since I had waked up briefly that first time, around four a.m. or so.
Dad showed up again around three p.m.
"Hey, Zac, how you feeling, kid?"
"Tired and annoyed. Can I switch rooms? That guy is killing me," I complained.
My dad glanced at the monstrous man who slept loudly in the room's other bed.
"No can do. You'll have to deal with it. You're going home in a few hours anyways. Doc just wants to make sure you're all right." It was then I noticed the big case my dad was carrying.
"You are my savior!" I cried, as I stretched for the case.
"I don't think it'll cause a problem," he said, handing me the case. "Don't want my boy dying of boredom. You need to practice, anyways."
"Ah, shut up," I grinned.
"I gotta jet. I snuck out to give this to you. I'll pick you up in a few hours. I talked to the doc. He said you can 'rock the house', whatever that means. Just be courteous to your little neighbor over there," he said, glancing at the snoring abomination.
"I'll try to be discrete," I joked.
"I know you will. And Zac…" he said softly, "we'll have to talk when you get home, okay? Love you kid." With that, he leaned over and gave me a kiss on the head before turning to leave the room.
"Leaving so soon, Mr. Hunter? I hoped I could interest you in a cup of tea or coffee," said a gorgeous nurse who stood by the doorway.
Dad turned and gave me a pained look before turning back to greet her. I had to draw on all my willpower, to stifle a laugh.
"Yeah, just came by to see my kid. I'll have to decline your generous offer. I'm due back at the lab in twenty minutes. Please take care of Zac for me," Dad said smoothly. The look on the nurse's face was unbeatable.
"K-kid? I thought he was your brother!" she almost yelled.
Dad gave me a side look. I could see the little kid in him wanting to play around with this flirt.
"Yes. My son, by blood. The best thing to ever happen to me. And someone I'm proud of," Dad beamed. I couldn't help but grin.
He simply passed by her without giving her a second glance. The nurse stood kinda rigid and annoyed, as she looked me over, seeming dejected. When she left I let out a laugh. It was too much.
It suddenly occurred to me that Dad never asked about what had happened the night before, which was probably a good thing. I had a lot of thinking to do.
While I sat there staring out into the fading sun, I was interrupted by a sweet voice.
"Hey, baby, how you doing?"
Before I looked, I knew who it was. Only one person calls me that. Well, she calls everyone that. Ashley, one of Jett's sisters.
"Ashley, I didn't see you there." I smiled.
"Of course not!" she stated rather intensely. "You were in dreamland or some place. I've been here a couple of minutes. You looked so cute gazing out the window. Like a painting or something."
I felt my cheeks flare. She's one of the girls who know how to make me blush.
"Aww, how cute. Damn, if it wasn't for the age difference, my boyfriend, and the fact you're my brother's best friend, I think we would look great together," she teased.
My face felt like a wildfire. For a girl, Ashley is really hot. She's three years older than me and in her final year of high school. Yup, final year; there's an extra year for high school students called OAC, or grade 13. She's probably the one most responsible for teaching Jett his smooth moves. She's going out with the captain of the swim team I'm on. He's in the senior division while I'm still in junior. He has helped me a lot with breathing techniques during the past year. A real cool guy.
"Yeah, well, you're not my type," I stated playfully.
"Touché. So, how do you feel? You comfortable?" She asked.
"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks."
She smiled and nervously looked around the room during a brief silence between us.
"So," I started, "how's Jett doing?"
She finally looked at me, her expression somewhat sad. "Not good."
She grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to me.
"He's really killing himself. He's really upset about what happened. He's sorry he wasn't there to help you guys. No matter what we tell him; my mom, my sisters, your dad, his response is the same." She looked down at her hands. "He thinks he failed you as a friend." Ashley got up and walked to the window by my bed. "I know you guys got into a heated argument before the incident. He told me that much, but he won't tell me what you guys argued about." She turned and stared at me. Avoiding her gaze, I looked down at the sheet I clutched in my hands.
"Not like it's any of my business, but I've never seen Jett like this. He's usually the secure type. He knows what he wants, he's decisive, and almost always has control of a situation. But the way he is now is painful to see. My little bro is three times my size. He reminds me of our dad… broad shoulders, caring, kind hearted." She smiled, looking out the window, remembering the similarity between Jett and his father. Their dad died when Jett was four and Ashley was seven, so she can remember him pretty well. "But today when I saw him, after he told me that you guys argued before you ran off… I can't describe it. He seemed so small."
Ashley's words devastated me. I felt a heaviness in my chest.
"My big little bro is suffering, and I need to know that you wouldn't hurt him, intentionally. You're his best friend, so you could easily crush him. Not with fists, but words. You're his rock. You have no mother, he has no father. He confides in you, but you could easily turn your back," she said, never breaking her gaze. "I need to know that you will never do that."
I wanted to tell her I would never do that to Jett. It's not like he only looks up to me. I look up to him. I need him and his friendship. Words wouldn't form. I clamped my eyes shut and looked away. I didn't want to let Ashley see me crying. Jett is my best friend. I would never wish any hardship on him. Tears streamed down my face as I sat on the bed. Words still wouldn't leave my lips as more emotions flooded me.
I felt arms envelop me. I opened my eyes to see Ashley leaning over to hold me. "Don't worry, Zac. I understand. I know now you would never hurt him. I'm sorry for doubting you like that, for questioning your friendship. I'm really sorry. It's going to be all right. I know you guys will work it out. I can see that you care about him as much as he cares about you."
I reached out for her and held her tight. We stayed like that for a few minutes, until I stopped crying. "Are you okay now?" she whispered.
I nodded my head.
We released each other and she smiled at me. "I'm glad I understand now. I feel relieved. I leave next year for university, and I've been wondering how Jett will deal with it. With you as his best friend, I don't have to worry anymore. Thanks, Zac, for more reasons than one."
"Where is Jett?"
"He was up all night watching you. I made him go home to get some rest. You guys have plenty of time to patch things up, and I'm wishing you luck."
"Thanks."
"Anyways, I need to get to work. I'll see ya later, hon," she said as she walked to the door. "Oh, and one other thing." She gave me a sharp look. "None of this leaves this room. I can't let Jett know about this. He hates it when I look out for him."
"You bet," I replied.
"Later, baby."
A kind, plump nurse came by and offered me some food. I always hated hospital food. Plus, you hear all those stories about the food coming out of a processing tube filled with unknown ingredients. To my surprise, this time it wasn't all that bad. I could actually live with it.
After my late lunch, I got bored again, but quickly remembered the case Dad had brought. I stared at the treasure in front of me; definitely something to keep my mind off of things for a few hours. I opened the case and pulled out my acoustic guitar. I stared at it for a moment before tuning it. When it was ready I cleared my voice. I started with my favorite song.
And I'd give up forever to touch you
`Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now
And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
`Cause sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight
"You have an amazing voice."
That soft sound sent shivers up and down my back, radiating to my fingers. I had to stop playing.
"Don't stop. Keep going…" he gently said.
I gave a simple nod and started to play the chords again, this time without vocal. The sounds from my guitar filled the room as Kade walked to the side of my bed and sat down.
I focused intently on the chords I was playing. I didn't know what to say, or what to do. Was the kiss last night an illusion, or was it real? Who is Kade? What is he hiding?
A soft, steady voice filled the air. It was low, barely audible, but I heard the words.
And I don't want the world to see me
`Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
I had to stop playing. My fingers had gone all stiff. I couldn't play anymore. Not under those conditions. I felt like Kade had something to say to me.
"Kade?" I began.
"I'm sorry." He whispered.
"Wait! Why are you apologizing? I should apologize. You hurt your ha…"
"No!" he interjected. "It's my fault. I may have gotten you involved in something. It may have been better if we never met. I…"
"Stop it!" It was my turn to interrupt him. "What is this about? What are you involved in that's so bad?" This was going too fast. I wanted to stop talking, before I said something wrong.
"It may be better that you not know. In fact, it may be best if you forget everything. I'm going to transfer schools. That way you won't get hurt."
To say I was scared would be an understatement. I was terrified. Perhaps I didn't want to know. However, what he had said was unacceptable.
"Transfer schools? Why?" I demanded. "Just because you were in a fight? Are you running away from something else? Those guys are dealt with. I'll make sure they stay away from us. I'll get my dad to hire lawyers …"
"It's no use," Kayden whispered, staring down at me. He wasn't angry. He looked lost.
"What do you mean? I'll testify. Make those bastards…"
"They weren't caught," Kayden said dryly.
"What?"
"When I saw you pass out, I thought you were hurt bad. I was really worried about you and I was paying more attention to you than to them. Those five weren't the only ones there. A few of their buddies soon came. Those first two I took down weren't hurt too bad. They all escaped, Zac."
This was bad. It was worse than bad. "But… what did the police say? Something doesn't make sense."
"You were passed out. Shin and Scott were gone. I told the cops that bunch ran off soon after I came. I told them I hurt my hand fighting one of them. This is the story you have to stick with, Zac. If the cops come to you, tell them you don't know anything. They were just some punks looking for a fight." Kayden's eyes were sharp. They held no kindness. His cool blue eyes penetrated me, as if they were ordering me to comply.
"W-what's up with you all of a sudden?" I glanced away, unable to look into those eyes.
"Zac…" he said gently. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him, relieved to see kindness again in his eyes. "I'm sorry for scaring you… I'll try this again. I need you to tell the police you didn't see anything. It's to protect you. If the punks are caught and you testify against them, bad things may happen."
Is he really trying to protect me? "I don't get it," I told him. "So… these other guys came and then they all just left? They didn't fight you?"
This time Kade looked away.
"Kade… what did they say to you? Do you know them? Why were you in that part of Toronto?"
"It's better for you not to know. Just pretend that nothing happened. I'll be out of your way soon. I…"
"Pretend!" I shouted, "How can you expect me to pretend? We almost died last night! I care about my friends, and just because you're new doesn't make you an exception."
"You… you consider me a friend?" he questioned innocently. Kade was easy to get with, but at that moment I realized he had no solid friends in our school, yet. People chatted with him, but he never hung out with them. I probably was the closest person to him.
"Of course I'm a friend… I hope?" I asked.
"If you want," he whispered.
"Yeah, I want. So you see, I really can't pretend that nothing is bothering my friend. Friends worry about each other, and true friends won't change because you tell them something. I…"
I'm such a fucking moron. Why the hell couldn't I see it? This situation resembled my argument with Jett. I'm such a hypocrite. Yesterday I was telling Jett to pretend nothing was bothering me, and here I was today, telling Kade I couldn't pretend. The situation is similar, but I'm sure Kade's keeping a bigger secret than I am.
"I'm sorry, Kade. I'm being stupid. You don't have to tell me. You're free to keep your secret. I'm real sorry, man."
"No, I was wrong. You're right; you are my friend, and I'm yours. You deserve to know. After that, you can decide if you still want to be my friend. I won't hold it against you if you don't. Okay?"
Now it was my turn to feel like shit. The boy of my dreams trusts me, someone he hardly knows. But me, I couldn't trust my best friend. I have to apologize to Jett. He needs to know about me. After he knows, he can decide if he wants to be my friend or not. Like Kade says, I can't hold him to anything.
"Before I tell you about those guys, you need to know something… I'm a runaway."
I can't believe I'm doing this. But, Zac deserves this. After all the hardship I caused him and his friends, he deserves to know. I'm not really keen on trusting people. There's a reason for that. But… damn! Something about Zac… this feeling of his presence in me. I can't get him out of my mind. Rick told me that I can't trust anyone but myself, but if I do find one person, to trust them with my heart, because they will only come around once. So if this is what I should do, then I'll do it.
"I ran away from home. I had to leave my life. I hated it, and I hated the person I was. I was a pretty well off kid. I had enough to make my way across Canada. I traveled for a month, looking for a place to start over. I found it. A place kind of like home, but without the painful memories."
I sat by Zac's bed, remembering the thoughts that ran through my head that day.
"Why did you run away from home?" Zac questioned.
My thoughts turned from the past to focus on him. He sat like a child. His legs were open beneath the sheet, and his hands were folded between them. His face looked perfect. His mussed, unruly hair reinforced his boyish looks. Zac blinked, waiting for my response.
I blushed slightly. "That's… a secret," I said.
"Aww, not fair. Tell me the whole story."
"That alone is a whole other story. I'll save it for another day."
"Fine. Be that way," he pouted, the way children do when they want something. I simply smiled.
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As I stepped off the bus onto the station's platform, I was in love. For the last five minutes, I had sat on the bus taking in the view of the town's buildings. The trip from Montreal had been tiring, but my view of this town instantly revived the beast in me. What can I say? I had already had a month-long adventure across Canada, all the way to Montreal, which didn't seem to fit me, so I had decided to head south to Toronto. This was what I'd been seeking. But I wasn't in Toronto. I was in Markham, a town close to Toronto. The bus I had taken didn't go all the way to Toronto, so I would have to take another bus if I wanted to go on into the city. I had to figure out where to take shelter, too. I was on my last bill.
Great. No home, and only ten bucks in my pocket.
I didn't want to use any of my money, but I didn't want to walk, either. I snuck onto a bus. Pretty crafty for a boy like me. I saw the driver leave his bus to get coffee or something. No one was watching, so I jumped on and hid in the back. My plan went off without any trouble, except for one little detail. As I watched the scenery change from buildings to farmland, I knew I was headed the wrong way, and I got off the bus. I wandered back toward Markham for an hour, looking for some way to get a ride, even if I had to use my money. No such luck.
I wandered up to a small house. It was getting late, but there were no lights visible. Smart little me figured it would be cool to break in and crash there for a day. How lucky I was to find an unlatched window. I climbed in and checked out the house. It wasn't bad. In fact, it was gorgeous. Outside it didn't look so great, but inside it was amazing. I made my way around the house and went into a room. It was a neat room. Everything was wood, and there was a warm, cozy feeling. I looked around and noticed a moose head on one wall, bookshelves along another wall, framed pictures on the mantle, the light coming from the fireplace…
Oh shit!
I quickly glanced around. No one was in the room, but the chair close to the fireplace held a blanket and an open book. I began to back into the hallway, ready to jet. But I bumped into something… well, someone.
"Why are you in my house?" asked a low-pitched voice.
I jumped and spun around, moving back into the room. It was a man. An old man. I panicked. If he calls the cops they'll figure out I ran away. I looked around for an alternative.
That window. I can jump out of it. It'll cost the dude a few dollars, but I can't be caught now.
I eyed some objects in the room. There was a lamp I could throw, and one of those fireplace sticks for moving the logs around. Perfect.
I never needed them. The man calmly walked towards his chair and picked up his book. He sat down, turned on a small lamp beside him, adjusted his glasses, and looked down at his book. I just stood there.
"Why not take a seat? No need to be all jumpy. It's nice to see a face once in a while." He began reading his book.
I didn't move. What was I supposed to do? There was no other seat. This man must be real old. I took a closer look. He was old, but you could tell he took care of himself. He was at least fifty-five. He had a beard and he had some kind of superior air about him. He looked like a cross between Sean Connery and my grandpa. Except he was alive. He wasn't some weak old man, I could tell. Beneath that wool sweater he had a big chest. He had a fatherly appearance for such an old guy.
"Why do you just stand there, boy? Find a chair or …" he finally looked up at me. His drooping eyelids suddenly sprang wide open. He just stared at me with his mouth agape.
"Josh…" he whispered.
Josh? Who's that?
"Umm, sorry mister. My name's not Josh. You must have me confused with someone else."
It didn't seem like he heard me. He stood up and moved slowly towards me, his eyes filling with tears. I felt scared. Why was this man acting so freaky? He stopped. It was like he woke up from a dream. His eyes drooped again as he looked at me.
"No. You can't be him. You look like him. Very similar, but you aren't him."
He walked back to his chair as I stood there stunned.
"Who?" I asked.
He sat down and closed his eyes, a single tear sliding down his face.
"My son."
I didn't know what to say. I just stood there looking down at him. I felt sorry for breaking into his house. One of the pictures above the fireplace drew my eye. As I walked closer to it, I was overcome with shock. A boy. He looked like me, just older. He looked to be sixteen or so. He was sitting on a large rock, smiling the brightest smile I've ever seen on a kid.
"Is this him?"
He opened his eyes. "Yes. He died ten years ago."
I picked up the frame and continued to stare at the photo. I was mesmerized by how much the boy looked like me.
The man got up. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know how to say it. How do you tell someone you're sorry that you look like his dead son? As he walked out he stopped and gripped a little table.
"Stay the night. There are spare rooms upstairs. Take any one of them. If you're hungry, there's some food in the fridge."
With that, he was gone. I just stood still for a few minutes. Without thinking, I put the frame back on the mantle and found the kitchen. I made myself a sandwich and walked up the stairs with my plate. I always ate sandwiches in my room. Mom and Dad always let me.
I found a small room. Actually, the only one with a bed. I knew which one the old man was in. His room was the one with double doors. This room was a kid's room. His son's.
I put my plate down and looked around. I marveled at the boy's collection of books and model planes. One item stuck out: a picture frame that sat on the desk. The picture showed a young boy and his parents. I knew the man in the photo was the old man. Beside him was a really pretty woman, in about her early thirties. The old man looked like he was forty, at most. The three looked very happy. I suddenly didn't feel hungry. I fell onto the bed. I felt like throwing up. I missed my mom and dad. But I couldn't go back; there was nothing to go back to. I finally fell asleep, after soaking the boy's bed with tears.
I woke up with the sun shining into my eyes. I sat up and stared out the window. After a few moments I looked towards the doorway, surprised to see the old man leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
"Josh used to wake up like that, staring out at the sun. Are you sure you aren't him?" he asked, smiling.
"I can't be. He would be older by now wouldn't he?" I said politely.
He smiled and nodded. "You're right. He would be."
Silence.
"So… what now?" I questioned.
He grinned at me. "Why don't you tell me your name?"
Around this man, I felt calm, just like I did around Dad. "My name is Kayden."
"Is there a last name you go by, Kayden?"
"No… not anymore. It's just Kayden." I said sadly.
"Well," he said, pushing off the wall with his back, "my name is Erickson Pierce, but just call me Rick. I love to read mystery books, play golf and tennis, and take long walks. My favorite foods are pizza and ice cream," he said is a low gentle tone.
I had to giggle.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. Nice way to introduce yourself. I love pizza and ice cream too," I replied.
"Great!" he exclaimed. "I like you already. I made breakfast. Come down and have some."
While we had breakfast I found out more about Rick. More about his family, actually. His wife and son had been in a fatal car crash ten years before, and since then he had lived alone and waited for his own death. It didn't really seem like he was waiting for death, though.
"So tell me, what made you run away, Kade?" Interesting. This man even called me by my pet name. Only Dad called me Kade. I didn't want to answer him. I didn't want him to know. He's just a stranger. I'll probably be on the road again by midday. Might as well get it over with. I told Rick what had happened back at home, while he sat in his chair watching me intently. He was like a father. When I was on the verge of tears, he stood up and placed his hand on my shoulder to offer his sympathy. He didn't look down on me or pity me: he was sad with me. After I had told him my story he sat back in his chair and looked at me.
Sniffling back my tears, I looked down at the table.
"Let's go for a walk," he said.
We walked out the door and up to the dirt road. The air was too cold for July.
"Son, nothing you or I say or do can replace what has been lost. I can't completely understand how you feel, just like you can't understand how I feel." Rick spoke words of wisdom as I walked by his side absorbing those words.
"Things happen for a reason. We aren't allowed to know the reason. My whole life I've wondered what the reasons are for hardships. They do nothing for us but cause us pain. Yesterday was like every other day. I sat alone trying to fit together a puzzle that has no matching pieces. But now, I feel like I've been enlightened."
He stopped walking. I did as well. He looked down to me and smiled.
"The moment I saw you I was shocked to see a boy who resembled my own son so closely. Last night I dreamed of him. I awoke to the realization that this is all part of a plan. It's far too much for it to be a coincidence that you happened to find your way here; that you happened to break into my house; that you happened to come to this house at a time I'm actually here. And so I know… everything was set up for this day."
I didn't know what to say. I was transfixed by his words. I thought I knew what he was trying to say. I hoped with all my heart that maybe, just maybe, this man could offer me the comfort I had been searching for.
"My life has been a series of hardships. I lost my wife and son. You, too, lost precious people. There may be something that the future holds for you. Perhaps it's my place to see that you get there. I'm a parent without a son. You're a son without parents. I can never replace your parents, and you can't replace my son," he said in a gentle voice, "but I think together we can discover the reason why these things in life happen. How about it? Wanna give it a shot?"
I couldn't speak. I was being given a second chance.
"I'll take your tears as an affirmative sign," he said with a smile.
I couldn't believe it. Kade was a runaway. Not only that, but up until now his life had been hard. I don't know what happened between him and his real parents, but in time I will know. Kade stared silently out the window.
"That's amazing. So you moved here with Rick?"
He turned to me with a sad smile. "No, Rick died just before this summer." The story had just begun.
END OF CHAPTER 4
Wow, finally another chapter, right? Heh, sorry about that, my life is busy at uni and I couldn't find time to write. I'm using all my free time now to write. Thanks to all who have supported me. Give me e-mail. ^^ Let me know there are readers out there. I love getting e-mail. If you have any questions, comments or concerns please forward them to me at Ryan_Kayden@yahoo.ca.
Copyright © 2003, 2004 Ryan Keith
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