What If
Kris woke up in the middle of the road, glass shards shining like so many stars on the asphalt. He tried to speak but nothing came. He tried to move and pain shot through him.
"He's over here!"
"Nathaniel, don't move. They'll help you, okay?"
Kris didn't know who Nathaniel was. He picked up a hand to ward off the people coming for him, and did a double take.
He was the wrong color.
His hand wasn't pale, with neat nails, piano-playing-fingers and a wedding band. It was caramel colored. The fingers were delicate and graceful, even at a glance. There was no wedding ring.
Where was he?
And better yet, who was he?
--
Adam sat in his living room, shock running through him like an anesthetic, numbing him from anything that mattered. Kris wrecked his car. Flipped it over on the highway.
Kris was...
Allison's broken sob cut through his complete absence from the scene at hand.
He was sitting in Kris and Katy's living room, while Katy kept busy, making sure everybody was seen to, refusing to be still. Refusing to let the truth descend upon her like a suffocating blanket.
Her husband had just been...and she was...
Adam didn't let himself finish either thought. He shook his head, leaning away from Allison, and resting his elbows on his knees.
Allison's crying had startled him again. It was jarring because Allison didn't cry. Not when she slammed her fingers in the car door. Not when she read crappy things written about her. Not when she struggled in a performance. Not when she missed out on things in school, and not even when she was homesick. In fact, Adam had only seen her cry once. When she left the show two weeks before the finale.
Adam bit his lip, something invisible gripping his insides as the realization hit him:
Allison only cried when she lost someone.
"Can I get you anything?" Katy asked, so gently that Adam could feel himself dying inside.
It was because he couldn't stay, that Adam stood up.
But it was because Adam couldn't breathe that he left, slamming the door behind him.
--
Kris had become an expert at pretending to sleep. It wasn't hard at first, because he was so exhausted. It was later that Kris honed it as a special skill to figure out what the hell was going on.
When he was brave enough, Kris surveyed himself. He ignored the bruises and the cuts, and instead was drawn to simpler and more disturbing things.
His fingers had no calluses, but the skin on his hands was dry and cracked. Instead, Kris had calluses on his feet. When he stretched, almost every muscle and joint in his body protested and popped.
And when he spoke... God... His tongue and teeth held the words all wrong. He spoke with a softness and a higher natural voice than he actually had. All his words were colored by an inexplicable East coast accent. Some New York, maybe. His speech wasn't lazy and slow and cradled by his Arkansas accent but hurried, and peppered with "likes" and "ums" where there weren't any before.
His torso was smooth - no more scar from the rib-removal surgery in middle school. And - he checked - no scar in his hairline from when Daniel smacked him with an old golf club of their dad's.
He was doing that - pretending to sleep - when a voice spoke again. It was a mother's voice - Kris knew without knowing - and that broke his heart. He wanted his own mom right now.
"Nathaniel," she sing-songed, in a way that was so irritating, Kris opened one eye to check and see if this Nathaniel was about to wake up soon. Otherwise, Kris might have to run some serious intervention. Like jumping on him. Who cared if this was a hospital? Anything to stop the sound of that voice.
"There you are," she sighed, sounding relieved, running a hand through his hair.
Kris froze.
"I'm not..." he managed, hating how shaken and unsure this new voice sounded.
"Sshh, baby, it's okay," she soothed. "Just rest. You were in an accident and you're pretty banged up, but you're going to be okay. The doctor's here to talk to you. You hurt your head, so he's just gonna ask you some questions, okay?"
Kris fought to open his eyes again.
"Can you tell me your name, son?"
"Kris," he whispered, exhausted from the effort of speaking this single word.
As he drifted off, Kris heard snatches of things. "Concussion," "possible brain damage," "expected after coma" and "scan".
Kris didn't know what any of it meant, so he closed his eyes again, praying it was all a dream.
--
This was a dream. It had to be a dream.
Maybe, if he stayed in bed long enough, slept for long enough, it would be true. But even as Adam pulled the pillow over his head he knew it wasn't.
Pieces of the funeral from the day before played themselves back for him like an audio tape. It had been in Arkansas, where Katy was now, and where she planned to stay. While Adam had returned to LA like a coward in the wake of so much sadness. Allison was here, somewhere, too, he knew.
She didn't want to be alone in her apartment right now. She didn't want to be alone, period, right now. In fact, Adam would hazard to guess that Allison was probably curled up on his bedroom floor.
Adam knew it hadn't been fair to get totally trashed-drunk and rant and punch a hole in the wall, all with Allison there, but he couldn't help it. His knuckles ached today. And he was going to have to fix the wall.
He pulled the pillow over his head to block out the horrible brightness of the sun and cursed into the darkness he created.
Then, deliberately, Adam swung his legs over the side of the bed, letting the sun stab at his eyes while he tried to get his balance. He very nearly stepped on Alli, who was sleeping next to far wall, no blanket or pillow.
"Your guest room is too big," he remembered her saying.
Bending down, he scooped her up and tossed her gently into the bed, draping the comforter over her. Then he set out to make coffee and patch the hole he made.
This way, he figured, his head throbbing, at least he could fix something.
--
The first time Kris looked in the mirror, he stumbled back in shock.
This guy was at least six feet tall, and the type of guy that Katy or Adam or anybody with hormones would be attracted to right off. If he ignored gash on the side of his head, he could maybe get used to this....except for the fact that it wasn't him. He didn't have perfectly symmetrical features, straight, perfect teeth and not a prayer for facial hair anywhere. The hair he did have now was black and curly.
It was sometime after that, when the woman beside his bed all the time told him about the accident. How a car behind him had driven recklessly, slamming into him, and causing him to collide with another car on the road.
"How's the other driver? The one I hit?" Kris asked, the words tasting foreign and rebelious on his tongue.
Who's the other driver?
A hitched breath, and a direct look. "He didn't make it, honey. I'm sorry."
Kris felt his breath sticking in his throat.
"What do you know about him?"
Who was he?
"He was a musician. A singer. He won that television show last year. Kris-something... Really sad. He was around your age."
How dead was dead when he was obviously alive and hanging out in Nathaniel's body?
"How old am I?" Kris asked before he could think to not ask such a stupid question.
A smile, but it looked tight at the edges, as if she'd been told to expect this, but couldn't bring herself to believe it.
"You're 21."
In spite of himself, Kris giggled, slapping his hand over his mouth when the woman looked at him, horrified. But really, how often was it that you got four years of your life back? Even if they weren't yours?
"So...if Kris didn't make it," he ventured, his own name sounding strange to him, "Who am I?"
"You're Nathaniel James Barrett. You're my younger brother."
--
"Feels just like I swallowed stones. They're weighing me down to the bottom of the ocean floor," Allison sang mournfully, strumming an acoustic.
"Alli, come on. Do you have to?" Adam asked.
She had all but moved in here. It had been months, and she had never left. Now, she was writing gritty, heart-rending lyrics and guitar chords that left Adam destroyed.
Her eyes were fierce and dark with pain as she leveled him with her gaze.
"Yes," she snapped. "I hurt, Adam. I hurt all the damn time. This is the only thing that helps. If I can't write I might as well leave right now."
Leaning across the brown leather couch, she snagged her papers and stood up.
Adam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It isn't like that, okay? I never said you had to leave. It just hurts for me to hear you so upset. Because as much as I know it's true, and I can't explain it, but I don't think he's gone."
Allison stared at him and then glanced around the empty room. She started for the door without her bag. Just a guitar slung around her neck, and papers and a pen clutched in her hands.
"Well, I don't think he's here," she said, and slammed the door.
--
Kris opened the door hesitantly. "I live here?" he asked, jumping back as a cat accosted him, trying to climb his pant-leg like a tree.
"It's okay," Olivia encouraged, pushing open the apartment door and scooting him inside. "Yes," she reassured. "You live here."
"For how long?" Kris asked. For the record, he was allergic to cats. They made him sneeze. They made his eyes sting, and they made his airway close. He wondered if being in Nathaniel's body would help him avoid this complication.
"For about six months. You just got this little guy. You were so happy when you brought him home," she said, motioning to the thing attatched by the claws to Kris's jeans.
"I don't like cats," he said plainly, crossing his arms.
He ignored it when Olivia reached down and scooped up the kitten in her arms. It was white with a little orange on its back and orange ears, like it had been out in the sun too long.
"This is Raja," she introduced, petting the cat behind the ears.
"Sounds like something Adam would come up with..." Kris muttered, feeling a pang deep inside. Would he ever see Adam again? Or Allison? Or Katy?
Tears sprang to his eyes and Kris tried to blink them back.
"Honey, it's gonna be okay. I promise. The doctors said the amnesia will pass. We just have to surround you with familiar stuff, and it'll come back."
"I want to go home. This place is ridiculous. How can anyone find anything in a mess like this?"
A gentle smile split Olivia's face. "That's what I keep telling you."
"Do you have a family?"
Olivia looked startled for a second, but recovered well. "Yes. A husband, and two kids. Nine and four-year-old girls."
"Then you understand," Kris told her, his voice heavy with grief. "Please let me go home. I don't belong here."
"Nate, you'll be okay," she said, squeezing his shoulders in a way that made him flinch.
"Please, just let me go home."
--
The house had been so quiet without Allison, Adam needed to keep himself busy. So, he did something he rarely did.
He cleaned.
First, he took care of Allison's stuff. He washed the sheets on the guest room bed, he washed her laundry, and folded it into a pile on the bed. Then, he picked up the take-out containers off the counters, the magazines from the end tables, and putting the cookies back in the pantry.
When Alli cooled off and came back, she would feel better if something in her life was organized.
Okay, he would feel better.
It was dark when Allison returned, and she crept in like a shadow, barely making a sound.
"Am I in the right house?" she asked, sniffing the air, and detecting lemon Pledge, Windex and Lysol spray. And the heavenly aroma of something cooking. Egg-something. Adam was good with eggs.
"In here," Adam called. "Sit down."
Amused, an almost-smile tugged at Allison's lips as she pulled out a chair. She let Adam dish her up a plate of his latest egg creation. The house was huge and cavernous. Somehow even more empty when it was clean.
But that meant something. He was trying to make it nice for her. Positive. So she took the clean house not as an omen for how lonely she was bound to be now, but for just what it was. An apology.
"I went to church," she offered.
"How was it?"
"Fine. No one else was there. Just me and God."
And Kris, I think, she added, silently.
"How'd you get inside?" he asked, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.
Allison shrugged, stabbing a sausage. "It was open."
--
Kris woke to panic climbing up his throat before he remembered where he was.
Nathaniel's room was a pit, with clothes, art books and textbooks strewn all around. He wondered if he was supposed to go to college and hoped the hell not. He just got out of college. He would do anything to avoid going back.
Kris wondered what Nathaniel was studying, and kicked some old jeans off a psych textbook. Gay porn was there beside it, and Kris hummed a little. Interesting. He wondered which Nathaniel was studying harder. A laugh tickled the back of Kris's throat. He was gonna have to tell Adam about this guy.
Stopping short, Kris felt everything drain out of him. Adam wouldn't know him now. Adam would think he was this college kid from New York state with gay porn in his room, just tossed in with the other stuff like he couldn't care less who happened to find it. Not that Kris cared, but even Adam was discreet about what he looked at.
Kris groaned. This was nothing to be thinking about on a Sunday morning.
And there were some advantages to being Nathaniel Barrett and not Kris Allen. Mainly, he could go out in public and no one would care. Feelings warred inside him. He missed Katy, and all his family back home. He had to find a way to get back to them. Kris figured there was no better place for deep thinking than church, and set out to get ready.
He dug through Nathaniel's closet, finally unearthing decent dress pants and a shirt with a collar. Then, he made his way in the bathroom, scowling as Raja followed him inside.
He knew without looking that Olivia was still sleeping on Nathaniel's awful couch, determined to remind Kris exactly who he wasn't. Kris had no doubt Olivia loved Nathaniel, but he wasn't Nathaniel. He was never going to be Nathaniel, no matter how much Olivia wanted it.
Stepping in the shower, he let the lukewarm water run over him, cursing as he saw the kitten poking his head in the space between the curtain and putting his paws on the edge of the tub to investigate. His head and body still ached. Scrapes and bruises scored and marked him. One arm was a mass of road rash, and his head injury made him so dizzy he had to sit down halfway through.
The shampoo was weird and orange, and it smelled rank, but Kris used it because there was nothing else. Then he used the Axe body wash that was way too strong, and dressed before brushing his teeth. Kris had to avoid little Raja who was balancing admirably on the edge of the sink, and batting a tiny paw under the faucet.
"You're gonna have to stop that. I can't keep you. I'm allergic, and Katy hates cats. And I hate cats. So knock off the cute stuff," Kris said, with no malice. He spit toothpaste into the sink and tried to figure out what the hell Nathaniel usually did to make his hair look decent.
Without much trouble, he found some product and used a lot of it. By the time he was ready to go, Olivia was stirring on the couch.
"Nathaniel? Where are you off to looking like that?"
Kris blinked. It was Sunday. Where did she think he was off to?
"Church?" he said, like a question because it seemed like she needed to hear it that way.
He watched her eyebrows raise in surprise.
"You're an atheist," she objected mildly, and Kris couldn't mistake the hope in her eyes.
Kris shrugged. "Not anymore."
--
There were things Adam just knew.
Like that his black jacket would look hot with almost any outfit, but that he would only wear it once. That even though it was Sunday, he would never go to church. That water tasted best after it sat a while. That Allison would listen to her IPod for exactly two hours. That she had 32 songs by Kris on it, and she listened to every one before she moved from bed in the morning.
Just like he knew that Kris wasn't gone.
Katy was devastated. Kris's parents were wracked with grief. Allison was so quiet, Adam sometimes checked around the house to make sure he was stil around.
Adam just couldn't understand that level of palpable loss. When he thought of Kris, Adam felt lighter, not heavier. And yes, he had been at the funeral. He had seen the closed casket that held Kris's tiny little body, too broken to be fixed enough for the public to view, but Adam found a kind of comfort in that.
It meant that maybe, Kris was still out there in the universe somewhere.
And yes, maybe it was denial.
But maybe it was true.
--
Kris had locked himself in Nathaniel's room when he'd arrived home from church. Nothing had been what he expected. He had been approached not only like a guest, but like all of them had every right to ask the details behind why he came in looking so beat up.
"Is this your first time?" People had asked.
Kris hesitated.
What was he supposed to say? From the sounds of things, Nathaniel had never been to church in his life, while Kris had gone at every opportunity.
"Here, yes," he finally managed, running a hand through his hair nervously.
"So... Can I ask you what happened?" a woman asked conspiritorially.
"Um...you can ask," Kris returned, deliberately being vague and a little bit of a jerk.
"What happened?" she asked, undeterred.
"It's hard to...like...explain?" Kris offered, biting his lip. How fair was it that he spent years annoyed by people who said "like" a million times an hour and now he was one of them?
"Try," she coaxed.
"I'm late, anyway," Kris shrugged. "I gotta go. Nice to meet you," he offered in a rush, though it hadn't been nice at all.
At Nathaniel's again, locked in his room, he ignored Olivia's voice on the other side of the door.
"Come out here, Nate, okay?" she called.
Tears rolled freely down Nathaniel's face, and Kris tried to wipe them away. Maybe Nate was a crier, but Kris had never been one. It was hard to distinguish what was a result of trauma, what was Nathaniel, and what was still, intrinsically Kris.
Memories of his family, of Adam and Allison, filled his mind. The New York concert they had done together. The way Allison had of doing something completely unexpected to make him laugh, Adam's ability to turn himself into anybody, and then be serious a second later, asking if you were okay.
He remembered their last conversation:
It's been too long.
I know. Stay in touch?
Yeah. I'll always be here. Love you guys.
Had he really said that? Had he known, somewhere, that this was coming?
Kris head the lock on the bedroom door click. A rush of fiery temper shot through him.
"Hey, Nate? I wanna show you something," Olivia was saying. She was coming in with a digital camera, but stopped short as a book came flying toward her.
"Get the hell out!" he exclaimed, heat flooding his face. He hadn't thought, just picked up the closest thing - the General Psych text - and flung it at her.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry," Kris apologized. He stared down at Nathaniel's hand in shock. "I didn't mean to."
But Olivia smiled and picked up the book.
"There's my baby brother," she said. "Always acting first. How many times have I told you to think things through first?"
Kris stared, wondering if she really expected an answer.
When she stood, waiting, hand on her hip, he ventured to answer shyly. "One?"
She laughed and came in, putting an arm around his shoulder.
Kris wondered if it was normal for Olivia to ignore her brother's tears. If they were so commonplace, they weren't worthy even of a comment?
"You're feeling better already, aren't you?" she asked, sitting beside him on the bed.
She looked hopeful. Happy.
So he lied.
"Yes. A lot better," he said.
--
Somewhere in the space of time it took Allison to move out, Adam began to lose himself. Along with that loss was the realization that Kris was wherever people went when the universe decided to embrace them.
There was no point in denying it anymore. No point in holding out foolish hope that Kris was somewhere alive, when he had seen with his own eyes that it just wasn't true.
Grief was a hole so far across he couldn't see the edges, and so deep there was no bottom. His house was too quiet. So he filled the silence with parties and friends. He made an art of pretending, and if he didn't let the mask of a smile slip from his face, no one was the wiser.
Except Allison.
"Maybe you should talk to someone..." she hedged.
"Maybe you should mind your own damn business!" he snapped, hanging up on her.
He didn't say the only person he wanted to talk to was dead.
He didn't need to.
--
Kris knew it was a mean trick, but he decided to wait for Allison at PinkBerry one Saturday afternoon, six months later. If she was healing - and Kris hoped she was - Allison would have resurrected her favorite past time, getting frozen yogurt with Fruity Pebbles on top.
It was still really weird being in Nathaniel's body. There were mannerisms that were distinctly his, while there were others that were only Kris. It had been hard to find a balance. Difficult to master the act it took to convince Nathaniel's sister that he would be okay. He began to assimilate himself into Nate's world, just out of necessity.
But the minute Olivia left, Kris set to work cleaning up Nathaniel's pig sty of an apartment. He did end up going to college classes, because he was bored and a little curious. Most professers were understanding, and they gave Nathaniel the chance to make up work. Some encouraged him to re-enroll the following semester.
When Kris was alone, he grieved, and tried to think of a way to reconnect with his family and friends.
He realized, after taking pages of notes at Cal Berkley that his handwriting was his own, and when Kris was brave enough, he sent a carefully worded letter to his wife, and to his parents, dated the day of his accident:
I love you, and I'm always here. Don't lose hope. Kris.
--
Allison knew Adam was hurting. Bad. But he just wasn't in the place to help himself, and she knew that she had to worry about her. Depression was a tricky bastard, and she wasn't about to get all emo when she had options for staying healthy.
Of course she struggled. Of course she grieved. But she had ways of coping with it, and she had reason to hope. Kris's family had just gotten this totally weird letter. It was from Kris. It made her believe that, somehow, everything would be okay.
She walked up to the counter and ordered. Plain frozen yogurt with Fruity Pebbles was about as healthy as she was willing to get when it came to food. She only came here because Dairy Queen didn't offer a Pebbles flavor.
"Thanks," she said, taking her dessert and her change. Allison turned to go, and caught sight of a totally cute guy in the corner. Dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes. He looked like he had a little of everything in him. Maybe even some Latino. He was so gorgeous she could hardly believe it.
Allison squinted, not caring it was obvious. Her heart tripped in her chest.
He was eating the same thing as her.
Kris had done that. He had been the only one.
Forcing herself to calm the hell down, Allison walked over, and set her little bowl down on the table. "Hey," she greeted, like they had been friends for years.
The guy glanced up, his eyes wide and shocked. "Hey," he said back.
"I won't bite, dude, I promise," she sent him a smile. "I'm Allison."
His mouth opened and closed. "Nathaniel," he said finally, reaching out a hand to shake.
"Haven't seen you around," she said easily, turning a chair around and leaning on the back. She stirred the frozen yogurt until the cereal disappeared into it, in a big colorful swirl.
"Nah, not really..." he said, and blushed.
This guy was more nervous to be around her than she was, she realized. "So, you live around here?" she asked, curious.
"Um, close..." he hedged.
"Man, I wish I lived close to here. I have to drive way out of the way every week."
Nathaniel took a bite, like he wanted something to do. That's when Allison noticed the scars on his hand and all the way up his arm.
"Oh, shit. What happened?"
Nathaniel glanced down, and pulled on his sleeve to cover the marks. "Car accident," he mumbled.
Tears sprang to Allison's eyes. "I'm sorry."
She had to force the words out around the huge lump that lodged in her throat.
Nathaniel looked at her, pain in his own eyes, and took her hand in his scarred one.
"It's okay. I'm here," he said quietly.
"I have to go." Allison choked on the words as she fled.
--
"Well, that was a bust," Kris said to Raja as he came back into the apartment. He scooped the cat up and nuzzled him. Kris had gotten used to him. Sometimes it was comforting to have something to talk to who didn't care if what he said didn't make sense.
"But I think she kind of knew who I was. I think she must've, don't you?" he asked seriously, scratching his cat under the chin.
Kris eyed the new cell phone he had purchased after the accident. Knowing his own cell had been wrecked in the crash, he decided to try and get the same number. Somehow, it had worked out. And he plugged in the only numbers he could remember off the top of his head.
His parents', his brother's, Katy's, Allison's and Adam's.
Tonight, Kris decided, he was going to make a phone call.
He missed all those people with a depth and an ache that he couldn't put into words. Kris also knew that he couldn't tell his family. That's why he had gone with the note - an ominous sign that he was still around - without them having to go through undue pain.
He had already visited Allison face to face. And in addition to her being attracted to him, which was just weird, because he was still married - at least, he still felt married - Kris had managed to hurt her unintentionally by mentioning the car accident. He wouldn't be making that mistake again.
So, that left Adam.
Even though Adam didn't have any specific religion, except by blood, Kris had a feeling that he might be able to convince Adam that inside this strange body and behind this stranger's voice, he was there.
Not Nathaniel, but Kris.
He didn't let himself second guess it, Kris just dialed the number and waited, praying like Nathaniel never had.
--
Adam groaned.
His phone was going off, playing a ringtone he hadn't heard in months.
Instead of answering, Adam burrowed deeper under the blankets, grateful he hadn't decided to bring anybody home, to witness all the ways he was slowly going crazy.
Can you show me? Can you make me believe?
--
"If this is some kind of prank, I'm gonna find you, and kick your ass," a low voice on the other end of the phone growled.
"Adam?" Kris asked, knowing he didn't sound like himself. Tears came to his eyes in spite of himself. Nathaniel must have been the crier, because Kris sure wasn't. He couldn't believe they were actually having a conversation, even if Adam sounded hungover as hell.
"Who is this?"
"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," Kris said in Nathaniel's nervous voice. Understanding was hitting him quickly, but he offered, "I'm called Nathaniel now."
"How'd you get this number?" Adam demanded.
"We swapped numbers, like, a year ago," Kris pressed gently. "Adam, it's me..."
"You are full of shit," Adam said, staring at the clock. "I'm gonna have all of California law enforcement looking for your ass to throw it in jail for harassment."
"I know it doesn't sound like me, but it is, I swear--"
It was then that Kris realized he was talking to no one. That Adam had hung up.
--
Despite all his threats, Adam kept the phone call to himself.
First, because he was sure he had been drunk and had to be imagining the whole thing. The guy didn't sound anything like Kris. He sounded younger. Sweeter. With an unmistakable New York accent. It wasn't as strong as Neil's but it was there, on the edges of the words, like a shadow.
And yet...
The whole thing had left him uneasy. The name Nathaniel hadn't rung any bells. If anything, Adam had walked around for days feeling like he had actually been having a conversation with Kris. And it had nothing to do with the fact that the call had come from Kris's old number.
It was something behind the tone - an honesty and a sadness - that had Adam wondering.
"Alli?" he asked, once he had her on the phone. "Do you know a Nathaniel?"
"Not...really. Why?" she asked, hesitating. Adam hadn't spoken to her in weeks. She hadn't told him about the time in PinkBerry because it just seemed a little creepy.
"What do you mean, not really?"
"Well, I sort of met a guy at couple days ago getting frozen yogurt. Said his name was Nathaniel. Why?"
"Was there anything weird about him?" Adam pressed.
"He got the same thing as me," she admitted quietly. "Only Kris ever did that. He seemed really uncomfortable, and when he went to take a bite, I saw his arm was all beat up. Scars and stuff. He said it was from a car accident."
"What did he look like?" Adam demanded.
"Hot," Allison said, without hesitation. "Tall, and dark, with dimples and everything. What's up? Why do you wanna know?"
"Did he sound apprehensive when he talked? Shy?" Adam tried, goosebumps rising on his arms, as he remembered the timid voice that had spoken to him the night before.
"Yeah. Really shy, actually," Allison nodded to herself.
"Would you recognize his voice?" Adam asked seriously. He was feeling a little manic, but he had to know.
"I...guess? Adam, are you okay? You sound kinda...impaired..." Alli offered, apology in her voice.
"Call Kris's cell phone!" he said in a rush. He didn't let her object. "Just do it, and call me back. Let me know if that's the guy you talked to."
"What if it's not?" Alli asked, her tone concerned.
"Yeah, but what if," Adam insisted, and hung up to wait.
--
When Allison's name appeared on the screen of Kris's cell phone, he did a double-take, but rushed to pick up the call.
"Hello?"
"Hey...uh, Nathaniel? This is Allison, we met on Saturday?"
Kris grinned, but grew somber as a new thought occured to him. If she was calling to ask him out, this just wouldn't work. It would be too weird. She was still only 17. He was still married.
"I remember," he managed, feeling behind him for the couch.
"Hold on for one second," she encouraged, switching to her other line.
--
"Adam, it's him. Why the hell does he have Kris's cell phone number?"
In his chest, Adam felt his heartbeat speed up. "Put it on three-way."
--
Kris stood awkwardly in the sanctuary of the church he attended only once. The first Sunday he was Nathaniel. Adam and Allison had grilled him mercilessly, playing twenty questions like their lives depended on it. And Kris never got a turn to reciprocate. To share what he knew for sure about each of them.
He still wasn't sure if they believed he was Kris, or if they just wanted to believe it. But that was enough for him.
Rather than meeting at one apartment or the other, Kris had suggested someplace where neither of them had particularly strong ties. This church was a place where Kris wasn't planning to return. But he had it on good authority that they left their doors open, and at night, they place was deserted as an old secret no one cared to hear. But it was beautiful, and peaceful, and Kris wanted Adam and Allison to have peace.
He saw Adam first, walking in with his head held high, Allison, a few steps behind him.
No one spoke, so Kris took a step forward.
"The night Debbie the stage manager got hurt, Danny was supposed to sing first, but he got so overwrought that they put you in to open instead," Kris said, nodding at Adam.
He turned to Allison, "Tacoma was the only city on the tour you were sick before your set, but it wasn't from nerves. You had bad pancakes for dinner." He smiled a little.
"You set off the fire alarm in your new place twice before you realized you had your toaster setting too high. You hate the entire month of March because you broke up with your last ex on March 23rd," he said, looking at Adam in the eye.
Kris forced himself to look at Allison, whose eyes were full of tears by now. "You love plain frozen yogurt with Fruity Pebbles, but if you could have anything in the world for dessert, it would be a Snickers ice cream bar, because your mom used to bring them home as a treat whenever you did really well at something."
"How do you know all this?" Adam whispered.
Ignoring the question, Kris took out a pen, scribbling a quick message:
Love you guys. Kris.
He left it on a pew and walked away, toward the instruments at the front of the church. He touched the piano, covered by a black cloth, wishing that Nathaniel could play. Kris had tried, and it was useless. He couldn't sing either.
Behind him, they both came forward to read the note, written in Kris's exact handwriting. Adam looked at Allison, the truth enveloping them simultaneously.
"Kris?" Adam asked, breathless. His blue eyes were wide, uncomprehending, but lit with an indefinable hope.
"Yeah, it's me."
Allison put her head down and ran at this stranger, holding on like he might disappear. Behind her, Allison felt Adam's body jarring hers and clutching Kris.
He didn't look like Kris. Plaid wouldn't look good on him, and Kris had probably figured that out. He had opted instead for a black tee shirt and skinny blue jeans. He was wearing nicer shoes than Adam thought possible. But he smelled like Kris. Right down to the shampoo.
"I knew you'd be back," Allison choked.
"I knew..." Adam rasped, tears falling down his face.
Kris held them both at arm's length, a warning in his dark eyes, along with the love he felt for them:
They knew. But they couldn't tell a soul.