Between Before and After Page 16

  “Yes, tell us why you have a gun in your car, Max.” He gripped the gun harder in his hand, his fingers flexing over the handle. He wondered absentmindedly if it was loaded. He had never even touched a gun before. What should he do if it was?

  Max shook his head slowly, staring up at him with tear-filled eyes. The blood from his split lip dripped down his chin.

  “Answer the question,” Gavin said from behind him, his voice strained.

  Max raised himself up onto his elbows unsteadily, his arms trembling as he glanced from Gavin to Lacey. Finn breathed through his nose, his fingers flexing around the gun.

  “When were you planning on doing it?” he said coldly.

  Max swallowed nervously. “I…”

  “Tell me you weren’t going to do something bloody stupid with this thing!” Gavin demanded, cutting him off.

  Max shook his head but he didn’t speak.

  “You heard him – say it! I want to hear you say that you weren’t planning on shooting yourself with this fucking gun!” Finn exploded, waving the gun in front of him angrily.

  His voice seemed to reverberate in the small building, echoing in his head.

  Like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place, it all made sense now. The way Max had been lately – the nightmares and the drinking, the drifter lifestyle, the phone calls that were few and far between, the weight loss, the depression that had eaten him up – he was planning to kill himself, just like Danny did. The only difference was that they didn’t know what had made Danny decide to blow his own brains out – but they knew why Max was feeling this way. It was because of Danny – it was his fault. Because of Danny, Max wanted to kill himself. Finn’s heart slammed into his ribs with the force of a jackhammer.

  Max stared at him for a moment before his face crumpled. He collapsed heavily back onto the floor, folding his arms over his eyes, weeping uncontrollably.

  “God, Max – no!” Kate croaked.

  Finn turned to see Gavin’s shocked expression as Lacey buried her face in his shoulder. Gavin draped his arm around her absentmindedly but his eyes were on Max. It all seemed so surreal. Words chased each other around inside Finn’s head and then they were coming out of his mouth of their own accord.

  “You selfish bastard!” he yelled, standing over Max and waving the gun in front of him. “After everything we’ve been through, you were gonna do it to us all over again!”

  He lurched forward, bending down to haul him upright until he was mere inches from his red, tear-stained face.

  “You miserable, selfish bastard!” he yelled. “Don’t you get it? It’s not your fault – its Danny’s fault – he killed himself, it’s him you should be punishing, not us! All we’ve done is stand by you and try to help you and this is how you repay us? Where the hell did you get this thing, anyway!” he yelled, his voice ringing in his own ears. “Did you want one of us to find you, just like you found him? Did you? Who did you think would find you, Max? Fucking answer me!”

  Suddenly there were hands on him and voices surrounding him and Max’s face was gone. Gavin hauled him away again, throwing him backwards so that he scrambled back onto the floor of the boat shed, his head reeling. He was breathing heavily and his head felt like it was on fire, burning his brain, destroying everything – at the least, his self-control – at the most, his sanity.

  “Back off!” Gavin yelled, kneeling beside Max and staring at Finn as if he had suddenly grown horns. “Just stop!”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Finn’s eyes burned into Gavin’s. “We don’t deserve to go through this shit again!”

  He tried breathing normally but it was like all the air had been squeezed out of his lungs and he panted instead. He caught Kate’s eye. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her nose all red and blotchy like they always got when she cried. Like the way they were the day they found out about Danny. Like at the hospital, where they sat with Max, his shirt and jeans soaked in blood.

  He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, closing his eyes briefly in an effort to focus. He couldn’t hear anything except quiet sniffing. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze fell upon the gun. He must have dropped it at some point but he couldn’t remember when. He had to get rid of it so no one else would get hurt. His features hardened, as did his resolve.

  He ignored everything and everyone else as he scooped it up out of the dirt and again felt the dead weight in his hands.

  Dead weight.

  Dead.

  No more. He had seen enough death to last him a lifetime. His fingers wrapped around the handle of the gun one last time and he stared down at it in his hand. It looked wrong – it was wrong.

  “What are you doing?” Gavin asked quickly, his voice laced with concern.

  Finn turned on his heel and marched straight out of the boat shed and onto the sand, jogging a couple of steps before drawing his arm back and launching the gun high into the air. His shoulders burned as he threw it as long and as far as he could. It seemed to sail above the water in slow motion.

  Danny’s face suddenly appeared in front of him, looking as he had the day he died. The torn, tearful Danny who had stared back at him with hollow eyes. The Danny who had asked him to tell Kate that he was sorry. The Danny who had put a gun to his head that same day and blown his brains all over the chintzy floral wallpaper. The Danny who had told him a thousand times that last month that he was “fine”.

  Eventually, the gun arced downward and disappeared into the water with a dull plop.

  It wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have known what he was planning to do.

  He tried to get rid of the images that plagued him.

  You should have stopped him.

  The tears ran freely. Afraid to let anyone see the shame and guilt he felt, he just stood there, his back to them, silently torturing himself. The voices in his head did battle with each other, taking it in turns to condemn and absolve him, see-sawing him from one emotion to the next without giving him the time to wrap his brain around anything solid. He felt sick, his chest constricting with each passing moment. When he finally had enough courage to turn around, they were all staring at him.

  Max was standing next to Gavin, his nose and lip bleeding, blood mingling with the tears running down his face. He nodded almost imperceptibly at Finn. He wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t found the gun in Max’s car. What if he had missed it? What if they had woken up tomorrow morning to a ringing gunshot and another dead friend?

  Gulping, Finn’s gaze fell to the sand beneath his feet. He was afraid that Max could see what he was thinking, and that somehow – somehow – what he was so afraid of would come true.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Kate perched on the couch, her stomach a ball of knots, her eyes glued to Max. When had he become this desperate – and where the hell did he get that gun? She filed through her memories from the time immediately following Danny’s death. It was hazy, but she knew that the gun he had used was Jim’s. Did Max somehow get hold of it? If it wasn’t the same gun, where did this one come from?

  She felt sick. Out of nowhere, Finn’s hand found hers and held on. She glanced over at him. He was pale and drawn but his attention was focussed on Max. Her heart ached for him. She had never seen him like that before. He had been out of control, completely beyond reason. Although everything he had said was true, the way he said it had been terrifying.

  Max sat on the sofa beside Lacey, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. He was frozen, staring at the floor.

  “How long have you been carrying that thing around?” Gavin prompted.

  Max seemed to sink even lower. It took him a few moments to answer, and Kate’s heart raced.

  “I don’t know. A while.”

  Kate took a ragged breath. “How could you, Max? After everything that happened, how could you even –”

  “Kate,” Gavin cautioned quietly.

  “I’m sorry.” Max shook his head miserably. “I’m sorry.”


  Lacey squeezed his leg gently. “It’s okay. We just want to understand.”

  “It wasn’t loaded,” he mumbled.

  “Thank God,” Lacey breathed. “That’s something at least.”

  “Where did you get it?” Gavin prodded, leaning forward, staring at Max intently.

  Kate knew what he was thinking – probably what they were all thinking. Max was clearly terrified, but he just shook his head.

  “Max?” Lacey begged.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Of course it matters!” Kate blurted out. “Was it the one Danny used or not?”

  “Why does it matter?” Max insisted, on the verge of tears. “I mean it, Katie. Why? It’s gone now anyway.”

  “Stop playing games – this is serious,” Finn interrupted, speaking for the first time. “Was it Jim’s gun?”

  Max stared down at the floor in front of him. The set of his shoulders and the sheer desolation that radiated off him tore at Kate’s heart.

  “No, it wasn’t his.”

  “Then where did you get it?”

  “From a friend – this guy I worked with, up north.”

  Kate squeezed Finn’s hand, anchoring herself to him as the world seemed to be spinning out of control again.

  “Did you plan on using it?” Gavin asked.

  Max didn’t respond at first. Kate’s heart began to pound as she watched him sinking lower and lower. Eventually, he shrugged half-heartedly, as if he didn’t have the energy for anything more. “I don’t know what I planned on doing with it,” he said in a small voice.

  Lacey pulled him towards her. “It’s okay,” she said, as he reluctantly wrapped his arms around her.

  Kate choked back tears. She could feel the tension in Finn’s body through his hand, still holding hers. She wished he would take her in his arms again. She felt like she was breaking into pieces. If he held her, maybe he could keep her from falling apart completely.

  “This is all connected, you must know that,” Gavin said quietly. “The nightmares, the drinking – the gun. It has to stop. You need help, Max.”

  Max released Lacey and glanced at Gavin sheepishly. “I know,” he sniffed.

  Kate’s throat burned at the sight of him, so miserable and broken. Where was the Max who had so determinedly stopped her from giving up after Danny’s death? Where was that strength now?

  “Let us help you,” she begged. “Please? You have to talk to us. We can’t do anything if you don’t let us in.”

  Max raised his head and looked over at her, his eyes filled with unshed tears. Seeing him like this, in so much pain, was frightening. It was like something had broken inside of him. It was worse than before.

  Before we found a gun in his car.

  Finn sat back with a sigh and squeezed her hand, as if reading her mind.

  Silently, Max gave a brief nod.

  Max seemed depleted. Dried blood clung to his bottom lip and chin, and an angry bruise was darkening his cheek bone. He had done that.

  Fuck.

  Finn drew his hand down his face slowly with a long, deep sigh that came from somewhere so deep inside him that dragging it out of him made his throat ache.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, waving his hand vaguely in Max’s direction. “I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

  Max just nodded but didn’t speak. The anger and hatred that had burned in his eyes earlier had gone. In its place was a helpless emptiness that was far, far worse. Finn felt like a boxer who had been beaten down after ten long rounds. He didn’t have it in him to fight anymore.

  “It was that bloody gun.” He inhaled deeply, trying to catch his breath. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  A tremor, brief but brutal, shook Max’s body. “I’m sorry.”

  “Danny’s got a lot to fucking answer for,” he murmured, releasing Kate’s hand so he could massage his temples.

  The silence in the room was thick and heavy. The hair on the back of Finn’s neck stood on end. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but he found himself bolstered by a sense of bravado. Adrenaline thrummed in his veins as he looked up at everyone. Yes, he said it. He meant it, too.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Gavin said. “Would he want us to be sitting here, three years later, still beating ourselves up over a decision that was his and his alone? I honestly don’t think he would.”

  Finn’s heart rate spiked, along with his anger.

  “How the hell do you know that?” he snapped. “I don’t think he gave a shit about three years down the track, or any of it. If he did, he wouldn’t have shot himself in his own house, where he knew that someone he knew and supposedly loved would find him. Would he?”

  “Come on, let’s not do –“

  But Finn was just getting started. He stared at them all, exhaustion rapidly evaporating.

  “Y’know, we talk about him all the time – about all the crazy stuff he did, and about the pranks and all the other shit, but what we never do is talk about how much of a mess he left behind. Look at us – we come here every year, and we talk about what a great guy he was, and how much we miss him, but what we never ever say is that he was a selfish fucking prick!”

  “Finn, for God’s sake!” Lacey frowned up at him, her gaze flitting briefly to Max.

  “I just get so bloody sick of everyone sticking their heads in the sand and talking about him like he was some kind of saint!”

  Kate reached for his hand, but he shook her off, standing up and making a beeline for the front door. He made sure he slammed it after him, just because it made him feel marginally better. He heard Lacey call his name, but he ignored her. Marching around the side of the house and through the grove of trees running alongside, he didn’t stop until he got to the beach. He collapsed onto the sand and drew his knees up, staring out over the water, scanning the horizon.

  He heard footsteps behind him and he readied himself as Kate settled beside him. They sat in silence for a few moments, his heart racing. Had she come to chastise him? He wished she would just get it over with.

  Surprising him, she tentatively laid her head on his shoulder.

  “You’re right, what you said in there,” she whispered. “He was selfish and we don’t talk about that. You know why I think that is?”

  He swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in his throat.

  “Because we’ll probably never know why he did it, and somehow, we have to find a way to deal with that,” she said gently, wrapping a hand around his bicep. “Personally, I’ve found that talking about the good times helps, but that’s just me. We don’t all deal with it the same way, you just have to find out what works for you. It’s called grief, and there are a thousand different ways to feel it.”

  Reluctantly, he turned to her and she lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him with glassy eyes.

  “I’m just so bloody angry,” he choked out, a wave of emotion rocketing up from deep inside. “Sometimes, I wish he was here just so I could punch him in the fucking face.”

  And there it is, in a nutshell.

  He had wanted to tell someone so badly, but he didn’t know how. He didn’t think Kelly would understand. He wondered now if Kate would hate him for it.

  Far from shrinking from him, she nodded understandingly. The sharp jab of realisation hit him square in the chest. He sucked in a breath at the reality check that came with it. Being angry with him was so much easier to deal with than whatever this was.

  “I miss talking to him,” he whispered. “I miss drinking with him. I miss him – the way he was before everything turned to shit.”

  She pulled him close, and he wrapped his arms around her. Burying his face in her hair, he squeezed his eyes shut. He just needed to talk to him one last time, to ask him if there was anything he could have done that would have changed things.

  Fleetingly, he realised that in a few short hours, midnight would ring in the seventeenth. Three years since Danny’s single gunshot had ricocheted through all
of them.

  Gavin reached down to take Lacey’s hand, helping her up onto the jetty. Out in the main channel, a small dinghy headed further up into the Sounds, its outboard motor disturbing the peace for a few minutes. They walked slowly along the jetty, hand in hand, as the motor died away and the dinghy disappeared from view. The heat had gone out of the sun, and the cicadas were at their loudest, but he noticed none of it.

  Max was all he could think about. Finding him with a gun in his possession was the last thing he had ever expected. It scared him to death to think that Max had been carrying it around with him. The chorus of “what ifs” bounced around inside his skull.

  “Do you think he would have used it? The gun, I mean?” Lacey asked, reading his mind.

  “I don’t know. I hope not.” He squeezed her hand, pulling her closer until he could drape his arm around her shoulder.

  She settled her head into his chest. “We just need to get him to talk about it, once he sobers up.”

  He nodded into her hair. “I’m worried about Finn. I’ve never seen him like that before. He was out of control.”

  “He scared me.”

  “Me too.”

  “Do you think he’s okay?”

  “If you’d asked me that a couple of days ago, I’d have said he was. But now, I don’t know. I’m not so sure anymore.”

  “He tried to kiss Kate this morning.”

  “Yeah, he told me,” he said. “I was really surprised when he said she was the one who pulled away.”

  “She told me it was because she had a flashback, or something – she saw Danny, right before they…”

  “Oh shit.” Gavin exhaled loudly. “Well, I guess that’s just something she’s gonna have to get over if she wants to do this. No one else can do it for her.”

  “Funny, that’s what I told her, too.” She glanced up at him briefly. “I think they need each other more than they realise.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  They walked along the jetty in silence for a few moments, footsteps echoing around them.