Page 77 of Man On

"One of the worst parts is that he died believing something was wrong with him. He died believing I hated him for something that was just part of who he was. My beautiful baby boy." With her last words, they show a clip of him blowing out fifteen candles on a cake decorated like a soccer ball. It freezes on the last frame, and the words "Rest In Peace," come up on the screen, showing the dates of his birth and death.

They pan back to a closeup of Ms. Blakely, her eyes closed against a barrage of tears before she forces them open to focus on the camera. Her eyes seem to bore into my soul, and as if she were talking directly to me, she says, "You are beautiful just as God made you, and this world is so much brighter with you in it. Don't listen to anyone that says differently, no matter how loud or important they think they are."

Tears fall over my cheeks, and I tune out the documentary while I cover my eyes with the inside of my shirt. The journalist mentions the surviving daughter and grandson of the late Nathanael Warren have declined to be interviewed, but that they have been contacted by the authorities and are expected to testify as the court cases go on. There's some speculation over whether the rest of the parties will follow Gideon Larsen's lead and plead guilty, and I wonder if Lane and Hannah will be forced to testify if that happens. There's about ten minutes of closing details, a slideshow of pictures, and information about how you can support the displaced families and victims of Deliverance Summit and the camp, but I can't watch anymore.

I slam the lid of my laptop down and busy myself with cleaning the disintegrated sludge that used to be cereal, thinking about Lane. Knowing that this Chris could possibly be his Chris, that he might have known him and lost him that way. That he could have witnessed any of the atrocities committed at that camp.

It kills me.

I don’t know what to do with the information now that I have it. Even if every word was exaggerated and sensationalized, it’s clear to me that something terrible happened to Lane on that compound.

CHAPTER 24

LANE

The match is a hard-fought victory. I didn't start, but I get a decent amount of field time, since once I’m on, the ball almost never makes it past me. Lionel jokes that he’s almost bored in the keeper’s box.

The other team's defense is almost just as good, though. Almost. We manage to get one in the net, thanks to an impressive assist by Noah. He only spent a few minutes on the field in the last bit of the second half, but he makes one of the biggest impressions of the entire game. I’m not even mad at the way he swooped in. When the game ends, every player on the field runs to high-five him. He approaches me before we walk off the field, and I give him what he wants.

"Crazy what happens when you actually pass the ball," I joke, lifting my hand in the air for an obligatory high-five. The jerk intentionally misses my hand and smacks my butt instead. He finds the glare I give him funny, but I'm not the least bit amused.

"You ready for some fun family time?" Noah asks me. He looks at me curiously while I lift my eyes around the locker room, grabbing my bag from my locker. "Aren't you going to shower? We have to meet our parents in like half an hour."

Averting my eyes when he takes his jersey off, I make my excuses and start moving towards the exit. "I need to grab something from the dorms. I'll take a quick shower there and meet you at the restaurant. You can ride with them, right?"

"I mean, I guess, but?—"

I don't give him a chance to discuss it any further, cutting him off with a, "Cool, see you there," and running out of the locker room before his already half-naked self can follow me.

The jog back to the dorms helps me clear my head. We may have just finished playing, but I have a lot of nervous energy. Knowing my mom and Scott were in the stands both distracted me and made me more determined. I think it's why I was able to be so single-minded on the field. I needed to hone my attention on defending my zone so I didn't overthink dinner tonight.

I’m hoping I can put on a good face and let Mom see that I’m fine. How well adjusted and successful I am at being a normal college guy. Then maybe she won't try to ask me questions, and I can keep avoiding this whole thing.

I don't want to talk about the camp or the patients. I don't want to talk about all the evidence they found and showed her when they were trying to talk her into getting me to testify. I keep telling them I didn't see anything. That I don't know anything.

I think I'm a bad liar.

I've just pulled on some pants and am drying my hair with a towel when there's a knock at the door. Assuming it's one of Noah's dumb friends coming to drag him to a party, I don't bother putting on a shirt to open the door and scowl, but it's my mom. She gives me a timid smile, and I open the door to let her in, apologizing about my state of undress. My scowl stays in place, though. Why is she here?

"I was going to meet you all at the restaurant," I say, pulling on an undershirt.

"Noah told me, and tried to talk me into coming by to see your dorm after dinner, but we really need to talk, Lane."

"I'm fine, Mom?—"

"I'm not fine, Lane. I saw the pictures, and I know?—"

"You don't know anything!" I yell. She flinches, and I immediately feel like the lowest kind of person. "I'm sorry," I say in a softer voice.

She absentmindedly runs a finger over the detail in the faux marble countertop of our kitchen, avoiding eye contact. My eyes close as I hold back the tears that threaten. I don't want her to be afraid, I just want her to stop. Stop trying to be the mother that she was for Noah and not me. Stop trying to make things better. Stop trying to fix things that will always be broken.

"I'm sorry," I say again.

"It's okay," she says, tentatively coming to me and wrapping her arms around my waist.

“It's not okay. I don't want to be like him."

She looks surprised when her eyes meet mine. She thinks I idolized him because I've always deferred to what he raised me to be, because I've held onto his Bible, or because I bring up what he's taught me. But that couldn't be further from the truth.

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