Rapture

"Jeff, I don't know what to say. Maybe you need professional help. I think you're off the deep end. But if you're sure you're right, let's go back to the house and see what Georgianne has to say about it. If she tells me that she does love you ... well, all right, then I'll know there's something to it and I'll have to deal with it. That's more than reasonable. We're not going to settle anything here."

"Have to deal with it? Ha, I like that." Jeff shook his head slightly, as if amused, but his eyes remained fixed on Sean with cold fury. "No, no, no. I don't want you to create a scene, upsetting Georgianne and putting her on the spot like that."

Sean returned his gaze. Jeff didn't want to confront Georgianne because he was afraid to hear the truth from her. He had reached a dead end: he had come here and aired his warped fantasy, but now he had nowhere to go. Sean felt sorry for him, but it was time for a change of scene. Standing here and arguing was too bizarre, and probably only made matters worse.

"Okay, Jeff. You don't want to discuss it at home with Georgianne, and I can understand that. But I don't see what I can do for you. We're wasting each other's time here. I'm going to try to forget all about this, and I hope you will too. But whether you do or not, I don't want to see you again. Stay away from my house, stay away from Georgianne, don't even try to get through on the phone-and I'll let it go. But do yourself a favor, Jeff, and get some help. You need it."

Jeff was amazed. Sean positively demanded to be hated. It wasn't just the irrelevant ultimatum, but the way his tiny mind worked.

"Oh, you put your house first, then Georgianne," Jeff said. "Is that the way it is? I might have known. You're a dumb fuck, Sean. You think you can tell me-"

"You heard me," Sean interrupted, jabbing a finger at Jeffs heart with enough force to push him back on his heels. "You heard me."

He turned and began to walk away, back toward the street. It was too much for Jeff, who rushed after him, grabbed a handful of his hair, and yanked his head back violently. At the same time, he reached behind his back, up under his sweatshirt, and pulled out the .22, which finally seemed to have a use. He put the gun barrel right up to Sean's eye, so that he could see the weapon clearly. It worked. Sean stopped resisting immediately. Jeff drove him off the path, into the woods, until they came to a dark, heavily shaded spot.

"Jeff," Sean said carefully, "think what you're doing. That gun won't solve anything. You can hurt me, if that's what you want to do, but you'll only end up making a mess of your own life."

"Shut up." Jeff loved the way his voice edged lower as his rage increased. It seemed to prove that he was fully in control of himself and the situation. "Just shut up, do you understand?" he added, almost intoxicated by the way he sounded. For the first time he was hearing, witnessing, the new and real Jeff Lisker. "You're so incredibly smug and arrogant. You think I'd just let you walk away from me while I'm talking to you, let you go back and take it out on Georgianne? That's your way, isn't it? Walk away from me, don't face me, then abuse Georgianne. Jesus, you make me sick, Sean, you really do. And I tried to like you. I tried to talk to you. Man to man. Let's be reasonable. Waste of fucking time."

"Jeff, they'll pick you up before the day's over," Sean said, afraid now but still trying to speak sensibly. He should have clipped Jeff when he had the chance. His only hope was in talk. He couldn't try anything else now, not with the end of that gun barrel kissing his right eyeball. "Think, man, think," he urged delicately. "Is this going to make Georgianne feel any-"

"Shut up," Jeff snarled in Sean's ear. Then he hit him in the face with the gun, and a second time, drawing blood from a couple of small cuts. It felt good-this whole course of violent action-astonishingly good. It was like a miraculous cure for blindness. The truth was dazzling, and Jeff loved it. This was what he had been trying to find for so long, a clarity of vision and purpose and self that could only be achieved by doing something. It was right and natural, and above all it was the one thing that succeeded in making sense of the past. Twenty, no, twenty-four years of Jeffs life came into sharp focus, like the smallest print on an eye chart seen through new lenses. "You're the problem, Sean. Maybe if you'd been more realistic about this, if you'd accepted the situation ... but it's too late for that now. You're my problem, you're Georgianne's problem."

"It's not too late," Sean gasped anxiously. "I want to accept the situation. Just tell me what to do."

"What to do?" Jeff laughed. Sean had shriveled into something less than human. He was like a worm, cringing beneath the radiance of the noonday sun. "Sean, I want you to do the only thing you can do. I want you to go away."