The Death of Isaac Brunelle
By Adam Gonzales
It was the day I died in every direction.I’m sure I had it coming—in fact I knew I did; I had been asking for it. But as it goes with all things that we wish for, it didn’t turn out the way I thought it would.
It was early November. The trees were molting the last of their fiery leaves and the wind was getting cold enough to slice through skin. I was walking through the brazen colors of my grandparent’s orchard when I noticed Collette sitting on a wooden stump just past the row of trees. Her hair was smooth and straight, only curving upward at the ends. The breeze rushed against her face, sending tendrils of blonde strings to pass in front of her amber eyes.
I walked up to her, offering her my brown hoodie. She gave me a quick nod as I sat down in the orange pile of leaves next to her, and pressed the jacket to her cold cheeks. “It smells good,” she said happily.
“Huh. Haven’t noticed.”
Clouds were forming up above and the wind suddenly decided to speak louder. I was fine in my torn jeans and short-sleeved shirt, but even with the extra warmth of my jacket Collette began to shiver.
“We can go inside, you know.”
She looked at me, water forming in the corners of her eyes. “No. I’m fine.”
We sat there for awhile, letting the leaves whip up against our faces until my curiosity overcame my indifference. I cocked my head to the side, my short brown hair standing up at the back. Furrowing my brow I pulled my legs up against my chest as I turned to Collette.
“So. Why’d you come to the orchard? It’s quite aways from your house. Four blocks, isn’t it?”
“It’s pretty here. I like the trees.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right. Pretty enough to walk practically half a mile to see. I know you better. Why’d you really come?”
Collette’s eyes wandered from tree to burning tree, but I could tell that she was thinking of something else. I stood up, looking down at her with my arms crossed. It was usually easy to read Collette’s thoughts from her facial expressions, but this time she was blank. That really upset me. She was definitely hiding something—and she never did that to me. I pouted with my face.
“Seriously. What’s wrong?”
“Well…”
Her eyes lost their glaze and stared at me with a shadow of concern. ‘Great,’ I thought, ‘I did something stupid, yet again.’
“I heard something about you, Isaac—from Piers.”
Suddenly I felt real cold. If we were talking about Piers, only one thing could be coming. And I wasn’t sure that I was ready to talk about it just yet. I abruptly started shaking, and I was certain the weather had nothing to do with it.
“And?”
She gave me a look. The look, rather. It was funny how she was able to unexpectedly demand control with her eyes. She was a year and a half younger than me—seventeen—and yet she still could make me feel smaller than her in every way. I knew that the conversation was going to end as messy as possible.
Six months earlier I had realized something: I loved Collette. Not the same kind of love that I’m sure other people felt where they would woo and dote over their “catch,” as it were—and certainly not the physical attraction that some believed to be love. No, this was something else entirely. It was just a stronger sense of what I had felt about her before. She was my best friend, and had been my only real friend for quite some time. In fact I was willing to stake all my money on the fact that she knew more about me than even my mother. But the problem was she didn’t know how I felt about her yet. Unless Piers had been a fool and told her.
Piers.
Sad as it was, Piers did know how I felt—although I hadn’t intended for him to ever figure it out. I certainly hadn’t told him, he had just put two and two together. I guess I’m not as subtle as I think I am. But Piers wasn’t the whole of my problems. In fact, he wasn’t the problem at all. The problem was with two people: Claire and Lloyd.
Almost a full eighteen months ago, when she and I had started our friendship, Collette had been in love with me. I had known it, Piers had known it, everyone had known it. The problem was that I liked Collette’s sister, Claire. Truth be told I made such a big deal about liking Claire and everyone made such a big deal about me needing to go out with Collette, that when the time finally had arrived when I realized I loved her I was too stubborn to admit it. I’m not one for being wrong, so I took it as a stab at my dignity when I came to the understanding that everyone had been right. I guess that’s me: the one who goes against the crowd just for the sake of it. I didn’t want everyone to be right, so I had dumbly pretended otherwise.
The other problem was Lloyd. Collette had given up on waiting for me and had found a boyfriend. He was a nice guy—tall and funny—but I guess I looked at it differently; my eyes were clouded. Some part of me was jealous, yes, but there was another part—the part that was her closest friend—that feared for her. I didn’t want anything to go wrong for her; I just wanted her to be happy. And unlike me, she hadn’t tasted how quick the milk could turn sour. So I grew angry with him. For no particular reason other than the fact that he could turn on her. Soon everyone knew it. Except Collette.
“How long have you…” She looked at me expectedly.
I turned away, my face getting the full blast of the wind. It chilled me and my cheeks grew red as I grunted. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Isaac.”
I turned back towards her, my eyes hollowed. “Six months.”
“That’s not what I meant, Isaac. I already knew about that; you’re not that good at hiding your emotions.”
My brow furrowed, showing my confusion. What else could she possibly be talking about? Then it hit me. Lloyd. She did know about my hostility towards Lloyd. My heart sank. There was no way in hell’s fire that she would forgive me for that.
As soon as I had found out about Lloyd, I had suppressed my jealousy towards him in order to mask my feelings for Collette. But as time dragged on and Piers learned of my anger, I told him things. Just simple things that I thought about Lloyd and things that I didn’t want to happen to Collette. Things about Lloyd’s past, and how he would make the same mistakes he had done once already. Things like the way he had mistreated his previous girlfriend and had seduced her into doing things that even he himself didn’t want to do. Things about how he was known to treat people in his anger, and my fear that Collette would be treated the same way. I know that he was good to her in spite of his past—that he hated what he had done in his past, and that he truly was changing—and obviously there was some hate behind those words, but I never thought of them as anything else: just words. But I was known for putting too much emotion behind my words. I knew there must have been animosity behind them, and I knew that the snide remarks I had made would not be taken lightly. Piers must have thought so, too.
He had told his friends about what I had said, and they all had taken it as serious ideas and comments rather than expressed emotion. And so my words spread. Apparently they had even reached Collette’s ears. I knew this wasn’t good, and I knew—given her stubborn personality—she wouldn’t hear me through.
“I heard what you said about Lloyd.”
I gave no reply.
She suddenly looked up at me, sadness in her face and tears in her eyes. It ripped me apart to know that I had done this to her. “Why?”
There was nothing I could say. I just stared blankly at her, my heart to full of regret to even try to explain what had happened.
“Well,” she said sniffing, “I want you to know that what you said reached my mother—and Lloyd’s, too. They both agreed that we should stay away from each other—people have been saying stuff about him, and it’s hard for me to be near him without hearing people say how mean he is.” She inhaled deeply. “So I’m going to ask you for a favor. I-I-I don’t want to do this—really I don’t—but it sort of happened because of you, so I ask: please stay away and don’t talk to me. Okay?”
I nodded grimly and tried to hide the tears in my eyes.
“Okay then,” she said getting up. She left my jacket on the stump and waded her way through the piles of lifeless leaves, crunching them under her short black boots.
I watched as she made her way past the line of blazing trees, past the rows of fire, until she found the cold grey cement of the sidewalk. I had lost my best friend. I had lost my heart’s beat. I had died.
I had deserved it.
I silently let my tears fall as I pulled my jacket into my arms and sat on the tree stump. I let the cold bite my face until it became too much and I had to pull the hoodie to my cheeks. I inhaled deeply. Collette was right; it did smell good.
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