Patrick blinked, his mind racing as he stared at Dion in horror, the truth finally dawning. “It was you. No matter what the police said, you’re the one who’s been doing all this stuff.”
Dion gave a knowing grin and folded his arms. “Give the boy a gold star.”
“But why?” None of it made any sense. Why would Dion leave the letters and vandalize the house?
“Why do you think, stupid? You came into my life and destroyed everything.” Dion moved closer and thrust a finger into Patrick’s chest. “Everything.EverythingI had, you took away.”
“I didn’t take anything. I was your friend. Iamyour friend.” Maybe he just needed to remind Dion that hewashis friend, that he hadn’t abandoned him.
Dion jerked his head up at the words, his face reddening and his nostrils flaring. For one crazy moment, Patrick thought Dion was going to hit him, but that was ridiculous. The Dion he knewwashis friend and he wouldn’t hurt him. He just needed to remind Dion of that. They stared, eyes locked for a long moment before Dion spun around and stepped back.
Patrick stood perfectly still, afraid to say or do the wrong thing. He watched Dion take a glass from the drainer and fill it from the faucet. He downed the water in one go, his hand shaking as it held the glass to his mouth. He replaced the glass and picked up the knife Patrick had been using to prepare the vegetables.
The dizziness was nearly overwhelming, and if not for the fridge at his back, Patrick was sure his knees wouldn’t have held him up. “Dion—”
“If only you’d paid more attention to the letters.” Dion’s head hung briefly, then his eyes flashed to Patrick’s. “You really should have. It should have been simple, not this….” Dion’s arms—and knife—flung wide. “This mess.”
So the letters, the love letters?
“Tell me about the letters then. Help me understand.” Patrick glanced to the digital display on the microwave, hoping Dion didn’t notice his eye movements. He just needed to find a way to get out of the kitchen without pissing Dion off further, or to keep Dion talking for long enough for Simon to get there. Surely between the two of them they could calm him down.
“Sit down.” Dion indicated the table and Patrick walked on shaky legs, sidling past and taking a seat. Dion paced the length of the small kitchen as he spoke. “The letters were for Simon. He’s the one who was supposed to take notice of them.”
“You wanted Simon to get a love letter? You wanted to tell Simon you loved him?” Dion didn’t even know Simon. None of this was making any sense.
Dion stopped in front of the table, and Patrick stiffened at the close proximity. Dion appeared unsteady on his feet. Had he been drinking? Patrick breathed a sigh of relief when Dion resumed pacing. The sound of his footsteps on the linoleum was almost reassuring.
“And you didn’t listen when I was forced to take matters into my own hands.”
“Listen to what, Dion? I don’t understand.”
Dion’s breath was coming in short pants, and he swallowed heavily. “I had to break in, to leave a direct message, one that you’d take notice of. But you didn’t. Neither of you did; instead you called the police. You could have made this all so much simpler, Patrick.”
“You’re the one who trashed my bedroom?” He still found it hard to believe that Dion would have resorted to doing something like that. He was so unlike the Dion Patrick thought he’d known. “All that red paint on the walls. What did it mean?”
Dion screwed his face up. “What?”
“With the message to get out. Why did you want me to get out? If you were my friend, why?”
“The message wasn’t for you, stupid.” Dion laughed. “It was for Simon. He was the one who needed to get out. I was hoping he’d leave you.”
“Like Ian left you?” Patrick guessed.
Dion laughed. “Don’t be a fool. You’re smarter than that, Patrick.”
Patrick racked his brain; his head throbbed and it was hard to make sense of the conversation. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Dion paced the room then came to a stop in front of Patrick. His T-shirt was stuck to his body, sweat stains evidenced by the dark circles under his arms. He ran his hand through his already tangled hair and looked at Patrick. “Let me spell it out for you then.”
Patrick nodded hesitantly. Anything that kept Dion talking had to be a good thing.
“Simon was meant to get pissed off when you got the letters. He was meant to think you were seeing someone on the side who was sending you love letters, and then break it off with you.”
“But we weren’t even going out then.”
“I wasn’t to know that, was I?” Dion shouted, the sound echoing in the kitchen. “You moved in with the guy. What else was I supposed to think?”
Patrick decided not to antagonize him further and let the subject drop. “So you wanted to break us up?”So he could have me, or so he could have Simon?“Because I was the cause of you and Ian breaking up?”
