LOST
Uncomfortable Silences Can Be Deafening

“I can’t believe we paid money to see that,” Stew grumbled. As he walked with Alex and Marc across the theater parking lot to Alex’s car. “I think the promotional standee in the lobby could have acted with more emotion than that chump who got paid twenty million to do it.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Alex returned.

“Ha! You don’t have to watch it with a critic’s eye. It’s a curse. I can’t just sit down and enjoy a movie, anymore.”

“That’s the life you chose. Right?” Alex said without sympathy.

“Yep. Oh, well. At least it took our minds off things for a while. What time is it? I almost forgot. Marc, you want to come to dinner? My parents made reservations at The Wren House.”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Cool. We’ll meet you there, then.”

“Be careful,” Marc said as he got in his car.

“Hey,” Alex interrupted, “your mom hasn’t called all day.”

“Nope. My phone hasn’t rang at… oh… wait a second. I turned it down before the movie.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. “Yeah. See? Seven missed calls. Oh, man. Hold on,” he said, his phone up to his ear. “This isn’t going to be pretty. Hm. It went straight to voicemail.”

Alex’s phone rang. The number came up as a new contact. “Hello? Oh, hi, Mrs. Kasey. Yeah, he had his phone on silent while we watched a movie. Okay. We’ll see you in a few minutes. Marc’s coming with us, if that’s okay. All right. Bye.”

“Lovely,” Stew said, sighing.

“She sounded pretty calm.” She closed her phone, put it in her pocketbook and got in her car.

“Yeah,” Stew replied, getting in the passenger’s side. “The calm before the storm.”

“I’m sure she’s just happy to know that you’re okay,” she said, cranking the engine.

“Yes, but it fuels the argument, though.”

“What? For you not staying in Charlotte?”

“Yep. I don’t know what the hell she expects me to do.”

“She expects you to not get hurt again.”

“Well, she can’t keep me in a bubble for the rest of my life.”

“I know. And she knows, too. What happened to you was a traumatic experience for her, as well. You’re her first born and her only son.”

“Yeah, I guess I see your point.”

Both Alex and Marc pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant at about the same time. It was not a huge place, but there were still about twenty-five cars. It was two stories but still just the size of a medium farmhouse. The three of them walked into the restaurant and looked around for Stew’s parents and realized that twenty-five cars meant a packed house.

“What’s your name?” asked the hostess.

“Kasey. My parents are already here, I think.”

“Yes. We have you upstairs. Follow me, please.” The woman turned and led them up a narrow flight of stairs to where his family was seated.

His mother waived as soon as she saw them, her smile forced. Believable, but forced. The hostess showed them to the table, handed them menus and told them the wait staff would be by shortly to take their drink and appetizer orders. The smile left Mrs. Kasey’s face with the hostess and in its place was a look that sent shivers through all three of them. The corners of her mouth were slanted up—the remains of her smile—but her lips were pursed and pulled tightly against her teeth and her eyes were swimming in fire.

“Did you guys have fun?” Mrs. Kasey asked.

“Yeah, we did. We had lots of…” Marc said, oblivious to the real intent behind the question.

“Good,” Mrs. Kasey interrupted, “because I can’t tell you how much fun I had worrying myself sick.”

“Honey, calm down. It was a simple mistake. They’re here now. It’s fine. Let’s just have a nice dinner,” Mr. Kasey announced, acting as mediator. “Okay?” After not getting a response from anyone, he decided to cut the chill in the air by changing the subject. “Hello again, Alex. How was the movie?”

“Hi, Mr. Kasey. It was good.”

“What’d you all see?”

“We watched two movies, actually,” Stew replied. “We saw Tunnel 13. Slasher flick.”

“You and Marc never could get enough of those. Could you?”

“Nope,” Marc returned.

“Well,” Stew continued, “Alex didn’t like it, so, we had to make it up to her with some lighter fare. Untying the Pope.”

“That sounds like it could have been funny,” Mr. Kasey commented.

“It was supposed to be a drama,” Stew said dryly.

“Oh.”

“It was really bad. I think the stale popcorn we ate was more enjoyable.”

“It wasn’t as bad as Stew thinks,” Alex interrupted. “He’s just got a critical eye.”

“Yes,” Mr. Kasey replied, chuckling, “I suppose he does.”

There was another moment of awkward silence and it was Mrs. Kasey, this time, who ended it. “Stew… I worried about you before you were attacked. I’m your mother. It’s my job. Now, it seems the smallest thing sends me spiraling into a fit of uncontrollable anxiety.”

“I understand, Mom. I do. But I’m not a child. And he didn’t kill me. I’m alive. And I’m not some invalid who needs to wear a helmet everywhere he goes, either. You said this morning that you were okay with me staying in Charlotte. I’m not going to have my phone on twenty-four, seven. I’m sorry.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Mr. Kasey interceded. “We’ve heard this argument before and it doesn’t seem to have progressed any further, so let’s just drop it for now. Can we please eat in peace?”

Again getting no answer, he took the silence as a ‘yes.’ “What are you going to school for, Alex?” Mr. Kasey asked. “I think you might have told me, but my memory isn’t the best.”

“Graphic design.”

“But you’re a tattoo artist, right?”

“Well, I’m apprenticing, but only for contacts—networking purposes. My boss does tattoos for a bunch of local and regional bands. Album design is something I’d like to do, so, I thought, maybe, it would get me a foot in the door.”

“Interesting. So, just album covers or do you want to do other things, as well?”

“Well, clothing, band logos, skateboards, logos for any company that’s along those lines, really.”

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got your head wrapped around it pretty good.”

“I think so.”

“Are you taking any business classes?”

“Yeah. Next semester.”

“Good. You can never be too prepared. God knows, I wasn’t.”

“Did you own your own business? I thought you were a teacher.”

“Oh, God. Don’t get him started.” Stew put his head in his hand.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t always been a teacher.” Mr. Kasey replied. “The shop lasted two years. I’m not sure who lost more hair—Carolyn or me.”

“What kind of business was it?”

“Bookstore.”

“What went wrong?”

“Not enough market research, I guess. I think people here in Salisbury are just finicky with what they read and I didn’t have my finger on the pulse of what that was. Charlotte shouldn’t be a difficult place to do market research for what you want to do, though. Big city, but not too big. Lots of small businesses. Growing music scene, from what I understand of the talk amongst my students.”

“You’ll have to excuse my dad,” Stew said. “He over explains. If we don’t rein him in every now and then, he gets carried away. Thirty minutes from now, he’ll be talking about Adam Smith and the history of economics.”

“I’m not that bad. Am I?”

“Dad,” Becca interjected, “you are.”

“Okay. Whatever. I’m just trying to share a little knowledge with Alex. But… I’m not the only one with experience. I’m sure Marc is a fountain of wisdom when it comes to running a business.”

“Me?” Marc sounded surprised at the mention of his name. “Yeah, right.”

“The theater’s still running, isn’t it?” Mr. Kasey asked.

“Yes.”

“How long has it been since you bought it from Mr. Marino?”

“Almost a year and a half.”

“How many people can say they had their own business fresh out of college and for a year and a half since?”

“I don’t know.”

“Not many. You should be proud. I am. I’m proud of both of you and Stew. You set goals for yourselves and you achieved them. No one can take that away from you, no matter how the situation has changed.”

“The situation hasn’t changed, Dad. I’m staying in Charlotte and I’m keeping my job.”

“I wasn’t trying to start this argument again.”

“Well…,” Stew said, standing up.

“I thought… Sit down.” Mr. Kasey continued once Stew sat back down. “I thought they gave your position to someone else.”

“Yeah. No thanks to Mom.”

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Kasey had been staring out the window, ignoring the conversation but was suddenly roused and spoke for the first time in several minutes.

“Stewart,” Mr. Kasey scolded. “Apologize to your mother for being disrespectful.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.” She clenched her jaw and went back to staring out the window.

Stew sighed and continued, “I’ll just have to get my job back.”

“You think they’ll give it back to you?”

“I won’t know unless I try.”

“What about your apartment? There’s no way your mom and I are going to let you stay in the same place.”

“That does make sense,” Alex noted, “since they haven’t caught the guy yet.”

“Wait. What?” Mr. Kasey asked. “I thought they had someone in custody.”

“They did. For one night. Found him dead in his cell the next morning.”

“So, that’s why the police came by that morning and asked if we’d been there all night. They didn’t tell us why. I was too tired to ask. Oh, my God. Did he kill himself or was it another inmate?”

“I don’t know. Detective Alderman is under the impression that he was killed but there was no one in there with him.”

“Don’t they have cameras?”

“There’s ten minutes of footage missing. Like the camera was just turned off and then came back on again and the guy was dead.”

“That’s really strange. So, I imagine everyone who was working that night is under investigation.”

“I would think so.”

“Yeah, this really doesn’t help your case, there, Stew,” James noted.

“Marc found me an apartment just down the hall from his. I already have keys. I can move in next Saturday.”

Several lifetimes passed without anyone uttering a sound. Eyes blinked. Mouths hung agape. Ice settled in a glass of sweet tea. Stew now had the attention of the whole table, including his mom, who no longer had any interest in what was outside the window.

The waiter approached the table and took it upon himself to break the silence. “Are we ready to order?”

“Yes,” Mr. Kasey said. “I’ll have the crow… with a Caesar side salad.”

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“Never mind. Bad joke. We’re going to need a few minutes.”

“No problem. I’ll be back.”

“So, that’s it, then,” Mrs. Kasey said angrily. “We don’t even get a say in the matter.”

“You’ve had your say, Mom. Both you and Dad told me this morning that you were behind me one-hundred percent.”

“I know, but this new information that you kept from us makes it a different story altogether.”

“I wasn’t keeping it from you, Mom. I thought you kn—”

“Have you listened to what I’ve been saying?”

“Yes, I have. And it’s still my decision to make. And my decision is to stay in Charlotte. Now, you can either accept it and deal with it, or give yourself an ulcer worrying about it. When the waiter comes back, I want the shrimp scampi with a baked potato and a house salad with vinaigrette. If you’ll excuse me, I have to use the restroom. Two thirty-two ounce sodas takes a toll.”

Once Stew was out of earshot, and after a moment to calm herself down, Mrs. Kasey spoke candidly with Marc and Alex. “As much as I don’t like the situation… Marc, you and Stew are like brothers. You have been most of your lives. I expect you to keep him safe.”

“I will, Mrs. Kasey.”

“And Alex, I’ve only known you for a short time, but I don’t think any other girl has ever made Stew smile like you have. Now, God only knows what the future holds for you two, but I expect you to keep him grounded. And if I could put caution labels on him, I would—Fragile, Handle With Care, This Side Up,” she said, smiling an actual smile for the first time since dinner started, though with tears in her eyes, “but I can’t. So, all I’m going to say is this…”

“I know,” Alex said, “if I hurt him, you’ll kill me.”

“No. I was just going to say, be gentle.”

“I can do that,” Alex replied, chuckling.