Brody and his friends were meeting up at ThrifTea. Brody got his favorite chocolate boba.
He sat down with his friend Malik and they talked a bit about their favorite video games. Brody told him that one of his dads streams video games sometimes. Malik was impressed. It felt good to let one of his friends know a little more about his family. He still hadn’t mentioned that he was adopted, but they might have suspicions since they know he has two dads.
After they chatted a bit, they decided to head inside to talk to some of the others. They joined Nadia and Isaac’s conversation. During the conversation, Nadia told Brody that she was glad they’d become friends. Then, it happened.
Brody’s heart began racing and his cheeks got warm. He felt a fluttering in his stomach. There was no denying it now. Brody had a crush on Nadia. He was equal parts exhilarated and horrified. What if she didn't like him back? What if she did?
Just then Malik and Isaac wandered off, leaving Nadia and Brody alone on the couch. Maybe they sensed that something was brewing between the two and decided to give them space. Brody had to say something, but he was too shy to flirt outright. He decided to casually ask Nadia if she was single. She said she was, and left it at that. He still couldn’t tell if there was any interest on her part. He hoped there was.
Previous | Beginning of Story | Beginning of Chapter | Next
Robin: It’s not your fault.
Alex: That’s not true.
Robin: You were just a little kid.
Alex: Yeah, but I still knew what I was doing!
Robin: You didn’t make her d-…
Alex: I did!
Robin: [sighs] You can’t keep blaming yourself.
Alex: I can, and should! It’s just-.. you’ll never understand because I can’t-.. ugh!
Robin: You know you can tell me anything, right?
Alex: You wouldn’t believe me even if I did.
Robin: I’d always believe you.
Alex: Always?
Robin: Well, within reason-…
Alex: Exactly! This is well beyond reason.
Robin: I’m more used to that than you’d think.
Alex: Yeah, right.
[Alex scoffed lightly, though her voice was devoid of scorn]
[Alex launched herself to her feet and took a deep breath before she could change her mind]
Alex: I can make people do whatever I tell them to and they'll just do it, no hesitation. They don't even realize what's happened until it's already said and done-.. but it's not all ha-ha make someone dance like a chicken, y'know? It can hurt people, like my mom, and I'm terrified something like that might happen again so I really think about what I'm gonna say over and over and over but sometimes stuff just comes out, right? Like when you're angry or sad or whatever but I can't have that freedom ‘cause it’s dangerous, so I just try to think as little as possible but it’s exhausting keeping up that wall and overanalysing every little sentence before it comes out. It’s easier not to be around anyone, I guess. Like, that’s why we stayed with my uncle so much and why I was home-schooled, right? But then I met you and got a taste of what it was like to have a friend and-.. and you were different, but I don’t know why. It’s like you’re immune for some reason, and it's not like I haven't tried! Just small things as a test, nothing bad, but it feels like whatever I suggest goes right over your head and I don't understand. It’s kinda nice though, like you’re the only person I can really relax around ‘cause I won’t just blurt something out and make you walk off a cliff-.. not that I would, obviously, but…
[Alex stopped blathering abruptly, rather self-conscious now that she'd word vomited out what felt like her entire being right in front of Robin, who had sat in a strange, perplexed looking silence throughout the entire duration of her rambling soliloquy]
...
Alex: Hello?
Robin: Is that why you always say maybe in front of everything?
Alex: Well yeah, it's purposefully vague-.. is that really what you're choosing to say about all this?
Robin: Sorry, I'm just processing. I feel like things make a bit more sense now.
Alex: You know what doesn’t make sense? Your weird immunity…
Robin: Maybe I just have a super strong brain.
[Robin grinned half-heartedly, his stomach sinking as he realised he probably ought to explain his own specialty]
Alex: What?
Robin: Nothing, I just-…
Alex: There’s something different about you too, right? I’m not imagining things, am I?
Robin: Well, I can feel what other people feel, I guess.
[Robin sucked in his bottom lip and widened his eyes briefly as if that simple little answer would be enough for Alex. He’d never been much of a talker anyway and it felt doubly weird to tell someone about his “gift”, even if that someone was Alex]
Alex: You mean like an empath?
Robin: That and erh, people’s thoughts n’ stuff come through too.
Alex: Wait, wait, wait-.. you can read minds?! Holy shit, Robin.
Robin: What, c’mon-.. don’t make it sound so odd.
Alex: We are odd though! Gosh, that must suck for you though.
Robin: Sometimes.
Alex: Why’d you ask about the water thing then? You must’ve already known the answer.
Robin: No, it doesn’t really work properly on you for some reason-.. maybe ‘cause you try so hard to keep your mind blank. S’pose you must be pretty good at it.
Alex: Oh.
Robin: It’s neat though, sometimes-.. peaceful.
Alex: Sometimes? Bet you hate it at times too, Mister Nosy.
Robin: [snorts] Busted.
Alex: You realise what this means..?
Robin: What?
Alex: We can only properly relax around each other, right? Like we’re perfectly immune to each other’s bullshit-.. like super soulmates or something.
Robin: Super soulmates, huh?
Alex: I bet it’s in the dictionary somewhere…
I ran into Hollis at the cafe, and we had a chance to catch up. She still lives close by, but we hadn’t had the chance to have a proper conversation in a while. It seemed like we were just shuffling the girls back and forth without taking the time to really talk.
“How is married life treating you?” I asked her.
“Oh, it’s great! Mercedes and I couldn’t be more happy. She’s been getting a lot of business at the pottery studio.”
“I know Rachel is excited about that! She was so thrilled when Mercedes put one of her vases up for sale in the shop.”
“She was! Especially when she found out someone bought it!”
“That’s our little artist!”
“How are the boys doing?” Hollis asks me.
“They’re doing well. Lucas is learning to roll onto his tummy. And he’s been babbling so much lately! He hasn’t been waking up as much at night. And Brody seems to be adjusting well. I think therapy has been going ok, and things at school have improved.”
“That’s good to hear. The girls really love their new brothers.”
“Yeah, Chelsea is still a little jealous of Lucas, but we’re making progress. Rachel just adores them both.”
“I know, she doesn’t stop talking about them!”
Hollis and I talk for a few minutes longer before she has to head off. I’m glad we got to catch up a bit. With everything that’s been going on, it’s hard to make time for friends.
Previous | Beginning of Story | Beginning of Chapter | Next
Barbara Stephens sat behind the front desk at the Britechester Public Library. Not to be confused with the giant University Library on campus. No, this one was much smaller and filled with young families and teens rather than the hundreds of stressed-out college students she was usually surrounded by.
It was her job, yes, and a boring, monotonous one at that. But in some ways, it was also an escape.
While some people may prefer a day at the spa, or lying on the beach near the ocean, or hiking in the mountains, there were only two places where Barbara felt truly at peace.
The first was in her tiny garden surrounded by fragrant flowers and the gentle hum of bees.
And the second was here at the library. There was a particular quality to the quietness of a library, broken only by whispers, muffled footsteps, and the pleasant crinkle of plastic that protected the hardcover books. It was soothing. Though, perhaps a little too soothing.
Barbara’s head slumped down for the third time in as many minutes. She jerked it back up with a sigh and tried to refocus on her textbook. History had never been her favorite subject, but this was the first time her solid ‘A’ average had been threatened. She had never got a ‘B’ in her life, and she wasn’t going to start now. It was a slippery slope.
With a shake of her head, she looked up at the clock to check the time.
4:17
She smiled to herself.
Gabriel would be there soon. The realization filled her with renewed energy, and she returned to her textbook, refusing to look toward the entrance.
If she was caught watching the doors when he walked in, he may think she was waiting for him, and that would be far too embarrassing.
Because she wasn’t waiting for him.
Not really.
Not like that.
She just appreciated the consistency of his routine. She’d grown to anticipate the moment he walked through the door. The way he would stop at the same shelf to pull the same books that he returned the evening before and sit at the desk by the far window to continue working on… whatever it was he was working on. She’d never had the courage to ask. Or to speak to him at all, for that matter. He didn’t seem the type that wanted to be bothered.
The only reason Barbara knew Gabriel’s name, and the fact that he went to her school, was because she happened to mention him to Imogen, her friend and former roommate, who somehow found his student profile within minutes of Barbara describing him.
One minute Barbara was going on about his dark hair and eyes, and the way he tended to cover his mouth with his hand—gripping it tight with his brow furrowed, or scraping his thumbnail along his lower lip as he stared off with unfocused eyes—and the next minute, those eyes were staring back at her from Imogen’s screen.
“That him?” she had asked.
“Yes. How did you do that?”
“It’s a gift,” Imogen shrugged like it was nothing, “His name is Gabriel Russo. He’s a grad student, majoring in Microbiology.”
When Barbara caught herself daydreaming yet again, she stretched and chanced another glance at the clock.
4:21
Apparently, this day was never going to end. Giving up, she pushed her textbook aside and decided to start scanning the books from the return bin instead. Might as well work while, you know, at work.
The doors opened a minute later, briefly letting in a draft of cool air and the smell of wet concrete. It was raining again. Not a heavy rain, just a quiet drizzle. Barbara smiled to herself, waiting for Gabriel to walk by before she would allow herself to glance up and watch him navigate his now familiar path through the shelves. But he didn’t walk by. Instead, soft footsteps walked closer and stopped behind her.
She was about to turn around and ask if the person needed help when they knocked on the counter.
Three knocks, to be precise, in quick succession.
Followed by two slow knocks. Left then right.
Michael.
Mikey, to her.
Her twin brother.
And the last person she wanted to deal with right now.
She turned to him, her face going from customer-service-smile to you’re-dead-to-me-glower so fast that she wasn’t sure if she was successful. For good measure, she added a succinct, “Fuck off,” and turned her chair back around.
“B,” he said, sounding more exasperated than he had any right to.
“I’m sorry,” he tried again when she didn’t respond.
Barbara went back to scanning the books, one by one, “I’m working.”
“If you’d answer my calls, I wouldn’t have to bug you at work.”
Now that pissed her off.
She whirled around on him, no doubt she was giving him the full force of her glower this time, “We live together, asshole. You could come home some time.”
He took a deep breath as if he needed to gather strength before saying, “Can we just talk, please?”
“I’m working,” she said again through gritted teeth.
“Can we meet for lunch tomorrow?”
“Depends. Is Katie going to be there?” She infused all the bitterness she felt into the name. It was rare these days for her brother to be without his girlfriend. Barbara wouldn’t be surprised if she was waiting for him outside, and the thought made her tense.
He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed, exasperated all over again, “No, Catherine will not be there. Just you and me.”
Barbara was going to dig in deeper, but was distracted when the doors opened and Gabriel walked in. She stared for a beat longer than she intended and he glanced at her.
Not just glanced.
He smiled.
Okay, more like the smallest quirk of one corner of his mouth, but it felt like the sun bursting through her cloud-covered day and made her heart trip over itself.
She looked back at Mikey, but he was looking curiously at Gabriel as he walked away, and she wanted nothing more in that moment than for Mikey to leave.
“Fine,” she said, pulling his attention back to her. “Lunch. Tomorrow.”
“Who’s that?” he asked.
“He’s no one.”
“Liar.”
“He’s none of your business.”
“That’s how it’s going to be now?”
“Yep.”
He sighed yet again in that way of his. As if talking to her had depleted all his energy stores and then some. “Noon. Our usual spot.”
“Can’t wait,” Barbara said without an ounce of sincerity.
Prev // Next
A/N: We've gone back in time about 40 years, give or take. And while I have an incredible amount of respect and admiration to those who make their stories decade-accurate in regards to aesthetic, fashion, music, technology, etc... I am not that person. And this year has been hard, so I'm not going to put added pressure on myself when it comes to something that is supposed to be fun, y'know.
(I know most of you probably wouldn't get hung up on that, but I got in my head about it lol)
tagged by @thebramblewood (thank you!) and rules i will definitely not be following (i swear i swear i'll follow it for the nordhaven rendition!) | divider credit
i tag: @vampwan @pink-chevalier @madebycoffee @syyymbiote @warmsol
gosh where to begin...
-> i began writing tessellate during an incredibly bleak time in my life. lmao it felt like the introduction to stardew valley where the farmer works in a depressing grey cubicle. i've had most of these characters during my late teens and after many renditions, it felt like a comforting time to pick them back up see where it took me. i wanted to add more layers to each character through little pops of symbolism but color became the loudest. in a way, it felt like a reboot, invoking a feeling that had felt long forgotten.
Joy.
-> you can see how throughout the years, the saturation intensifies over the years but also how the color palette becomes more defined. at first i leaned into soft blues and oranges, eventually adding green into the mix before settling on red, blue and green. i want to dive more into why but i'll save that for this tag (i'm so freaking excited i get to yap about background things!!!) i will say this: i love the idea that the primary colors used serve as a foundation for the characters and that as you go through each person, the colors shift towards what aligns with them. so using rgb in the editing became what unifies them. it's also malleable enough that every edit wouldn't feel so formulaic! maybe red is more present in one edit or green comes forward in another! and then when you start to combine them in relight, it blends them together, creating those shifty hues.
-> Not sure if I've yapped about this on my blog but ! When it comes to certain romances, i do think about harmonious colors. Like Icarus's color is red while Frances' is green. Or how Taryn is orange and Atlas' is blue forming a complementary color. The blue and the orange also perfectly describe the nature of their relationship as they are both two completely different people. Polarity in relationships is a less common romance trope I see. Oftentimes it swings into enemies to lovers because having little in common might give the idea that there isn't much to build off of which valid but ! hear me out, hear me out, it does not give curiosity enough credit. what if two people challenge each other's notion in a way that wasn't so... destructive? and what if, trying something out of your comfort zone created some of the better memories? IDK ! there's a lot to work with there !! anyways here is your little hints towards the revised version of their romance. also they kiss a lot sooner-
also when i storyboard for the group, i color code the scenes associated with said character. idk where to put this lmao
-> When it comes to resonating colors with certain characters, I talked about it here, going in depth with each character! Assigning colors to me felt a lot more symbolic rather than visual but from time to time, I've incorporated pops of color such as Atlas with blue streaks in his hair or photos that heavily include the color blue. Underneath Atlas' surface lies a deep melancholy. His whole revised arc focuses in on remorse that gnaws at his core, appearing when it no longer can be hidden. (Please take this figuratively and literally in the future-) There are a lot of secrets for the reader to uncover that once the full image is presented, it gives you an explanation. however, it isn't an excuse. as his arc develops, he has to make the final decision on whether or not he would like to allow his sadness to be consuming. the color blue has many meanings, especially as hues change. sorta like the blue sky, a canvas of possibilities but for something more simpler: A fresh start.
-> and here are some edits over the last two and a half years where i spent a lot of time experimenting. i left the other two and a half years out as well as some other thoughts since i'll be expanding on the archives meme. although tessellate is currently being worked on in the background, this creative project felt like a major stepping stone for me. it's always encouraged me to try something new out and in it's own way it became undefined. what i've been working on lately is really allowing the story to develop into something that not only encompasses my style but leaves a notable and clear mark that is true to every character. if you've read this far, again thank you ;_; <3 nordhaven will be next and that will focus in on just rowan
Wren: How did a water lover like you manage to find two best friends who can’t even swim.
Robin: Opposites attract?
Alex: I can swim.
Wren: Really, why don’t you?
Alex: I just don’t like it.
Levi: Why?
Alex: Why don’t you?
Byrd: He almost drowned, so now he’s scared.
Levi: Twice!
Alex: Valid, I guess.
Byrd: You should work on that though.
Wren: Yeah, what if you fall in when no one’s around?
Levi: If I don’t go near the stuff I dunno how you’re expecting me to fall in.
Wren: Accidents happen-.. or else I’ll yeet you in, then you’ll have to learn.
Levi: Or the sweet relief of death will find me.
Robin: Alright, enough of the morbid drowning talk-.. we’re on vacation.
Alex: Agreed.
Levi: As long as you don’t actually chuck me in-.. okay, Wren?
Wren: We’ll see.
[Robin sighed, making a mental note to poke Alex about the subject again later. It’d be so much easier if he could just read her mind like everyone else, but all he could pick up on was a hint of uncomfortableness.. and guilt]
TMZ Seems like our favorite messy girl is back in town after being M.I.A since the divorce papers were delivered, with the company of a rather handsome guy, I must say. I wonder how her husband—I'm sorry, her future ex-husband will react by seeing this. She's giving very cozy, very comfortable.
simagaintskaiden who cares how kaiden feels ? he can choke for all i care 😒 #downwithkaiden
kionforever well damn, when i thought she'd get back with don...
formerkbstan and why would she do that ? he's married and she's not going after those ! now the important question : is this one single ? 👀
keyofsuccess isn't that her lawyer ? i'm pretty sure i saw him during the trial !
unorthodottie here she is again not mentioned for her craft but who she might be woohoocking, she should be embarassed smh.
keysupremacy these comments are not it ! ANYWAY ! My girl looks fine, fresh and refresh. Ready for her next chapter and I'm here for it !! 🍾 #downwithkaiden
imnotevenhere streets are saying she's more than cozy with this guy, i'd be looking into it if I was kaiden 👀🤭
pickmeisha why is she showing her belly so much ?? isn't she cold ??
Lyric: Mom, can we talk for a second?
Bailey: Of course Lyreebabe. You nervous about the Starlights tomorrow?
Lyric: No… a little. l… I’m nervous about a bunch of things.
Bailey: Uh oh. Sit. Tell me.
Lyric: (deep breath) So you know how you’ve been asking me if everything is ok and I just said yes but that’s not true because everything is kinda a lot and I’ve been keeping things from you and I didn’t want you to be mad and stressed so I just held it in and I-
Bailey: Lyric. Baby breathe. Start again. Slowly.
Lyric: (another deep breath) I have a boyfriend.
Bailey: A boyfriend?? Who??
Lyric: Zaire.
Bailey: Ohhh the boy who used to be annoying and then you started texting 24-7.
Lyric: Yeah.
Bailey: Is he also the amazing basketball player whose name you said you didn’t know?
Lyric: I- yes.
Bailey: And how long has this been going on?
Lyric: Not that long. I mean we’ve been talking for a while but he asked me to be his girlfriend on Love Day.
Bailey: Love Day. That sounds serious Lyree.
Lyric: I like him a lot. I promise we’re not doing anything crazy. We just see each other at school and we kiss that’s it. We did have one kinda date after Scouts.
Bailey: (brain. short. circuiting)
Lyric: Are you mad?
Bailey: I… I think I’m more hurt than mad. Clearly you like this boy. I mean you kissed him, made it official and didn’t tell me anything.
Lyric: I’m sorry Mom. I wanted to tell you but you said no to dating and I didn’t want to lose him before we had a chance for real.
Bailey: Lyree…
Bailey: I don’t understand why you felt you had to hide it from me. We promised we wouldn’t have that kind of relationship.
Lyric: I didn’t mean to. At first I was just scared about getting in trouble and then so much started happening on top of that. I was trying to show you I could handle everything. But I started feeling bad about not talking to you and then I didn’t know how.
Bailey: Baby, when I say you can always come and talk to me I mean it. I’m here for the fun convos and especially the difficult ones. You never have to handle things on your own.
Lyric: But you’re dealing with a lot and I didn’t want to add to it.
Bailey: Whatever I’m dealing with is me and your Dad’s job to worry about. All I need you to do is focus on school and keep slaying the new things you’re exploring. I don’t want you ever stressing over my drama and definitely not these musty boys.
Lyric: He’s not like them. He smells really good Mom.
Bailey: Oh my sprung babygirl... My point is any boy right now is just supposed to be the cherry on top in your life, not the main dish. Like an accessory. The extra piece of jewelry to your fresh off the runway fit.
Lyric: Omggg
Bailey: Ok serious Mom Voice. You’re growing up but you’re not grown yet. Following the rules we set up and working with us when you feel like you want more freedom is what actually shows us you’re maturing and we can trust you.
Lyric: l get it.
Bailey: And for the record, I might be disappointed in some of your choices, but I’m proud of the decision you made today to come to me.
Bailey: I love you.
Lyric: l love you too.
Bailey: I want to meet Mr Zaire. ASAP.
Lyric: Ok.
Bailey: And we need to tell your father…
Lyric: Do we have to?
Bailey: Girl. You not gonna have both of us in trouble! I don’t play with my husband like that. No Ma’am. I got your back though. We’ll do it together.
I've been tagged by the amazing @igotsnothing who delighted us with a deep dive on Sasha and Gideon distinctive styles for this tag game. I love this duo: they are funny, endearing and quite a bit chaotic.
This tag game was created by @m0n0lithical and here are the rules.
✮ Pick existing OC(s) that you always have a consistent color scheme for.
✮ Take a screen (or a few! or a lot as many as you want tbh) of them in those colors.
✮ Optional [PART 1]: be a nerd and talk about your reasoning behind their specific palette if there is one. If you’re doing multiple and their reasoning is linked, absolutely be even nerdier about that (see: my own characters I’m using for this starter, who were my initial inspiration for this).
✮ Optional [PART 2]: color theory memes.
I chose to nerd out about Marco and his late wife Elena. I have a few characters with a color theory about them, but I feel theirs is the most deliberate.
Marco is a pretty neutral guy: browns, beige, navy, steel blue, gray, kaki... His house is also in the same color palette, creating a pretty bland ensemble. When we meet him, he's a grumpy, lonely man who pushed away all of his friends when his wife passed away. He misses her very much and life feels like it losts its flavor.
When he reminisces about her, she always wears warm colors, mostly red. From what he told us about her, she was kind, outgoing, fierce, and she was is anchor, she saved him from himself.
👆See the red slippers.
Red is passion, vitality, action: it's what emanated from her character. It's also widely used in life-preservation devices such as first aids symbols or life buoy. And that's how Marco sees her. Her absence makes his life a sea of beige with no markers to help him find his way.
But don't worry about him. He'll find his way, and keep her close to his heart. If you want to check out what they're all about, here's Marco and Elena's tags.
And now tagging some awesome creators because I'm very curious to see if you guys have a story behind your color choices for your characters. Feel free to play or not : @weirdosalike @tikay21 @hannahssimblr @matchalovertrait @nimzywilder @madebycoffee
The door appears out of nowhere. One moment the damp, overgrown path sprawls infinitely in front of her, lined with moss-covered trees on either side. The next, the door is looming three yards ahead, cracked and worn, more gray than she remembers, but it’s him. She knows it instantly, feels it in the deepest parts of herself, in every cell, and the spaces between them.
She stops.
Stops moving.
Stops breathing.
Stops the breeze rustling through leaves.
Stops the birds singing overhead.
Stops the small creatures racing around in the brush.
Silence.
She stares at the door, a lump forming in her throat, and waits.
Then. Three knocks in quick succession, followed by two slow knocks. One low. One high.
A sharp inhale.
A sob catches in her chest, expands quickly, and explodes out of her in a strangled wail as she hurls herself forward, racing for the door. She crashes into it with a force that rattles her teeth, but she doesn’t stop. She pushes the door open and falls to her knees on the other side, gasping as if she’d just run an entire marathon in those few steps.
The gravel is rough and wet under her hands. She focuses on it, on the tiny rocks pressing into her palms, letting it ground her and slow her breath. Tears fall onto the backs of her hands. No, not tears. Raindrops. It’s raining. Thunder rumbles overhead.
She stands up slowly, taking in her surroundings. She’s on a familiar path. To her left, she knows the gravel path connects to a road that leads to town. To her right, there is a lake hidden behind the trees. Her childhood home sits in front of her, somehow both larger and smaller than she remembers. Everything is gray. Like the color has been sucked out. But not completely. The front door still has the faintest hint of red.
She takes a step toward the house. The rain falls harder. The static sound of it reminds her of the noise machine her mother would turn on in her room at night before tucking her in, pressing lips to her forehead, and whispering promises of sweet dreams about fairies in a mushroom forest. She closes her eyes, a single tear falling down her cheek as she tries to hold on to her whispers, letting them envelop her before they disappear into the trees.
Another step forward and the sharp scent of ozone overwhelms her, sparking memories of sitting on the porch, watching for lightning and counting the seconds until the crack of thunder. Her father sitting next to her and telling her that each second equals a mile. His presence and this knowledge making her feel safe.
Up ahead, there is a man watching her from that same porch. She approaches slowly, resisting the urge to run to him. To throw her arms around him. To hug him and punch him and scream at him and hug him again and never let go.
“Mikey?” she asks as she cautiously walks up the steps.
“B,” he breathes, the relief in his voice is palpable and it makes her chest tighten, “you’re alive?”
Keeping her head down, she makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and sob. If only it were that easy. “I think that depends on your definition of ‘alive’.”
Trembling, she allows herself to look up at him.
He’s so much older than the last time she saw him. He’s older even than their father was the last time they visited. The thought fills her with a familiar grief, knowing the likelihood that their parents are gone. That they died without ever knowing what happened to their daughter. She wants to ask, but fear makes her hesitate too long. Fear of what the answer may be. But also, fear of what he’s thinking now as he looks at her. He tilts his head, his eyes searching for hers. She knows he won’t find them. “Your face… Why can’t I see you?”
She turns away and sits in the empty chair next to him. She stares at her hands as if they hold the answers to his and all of life’s questions, but they give her nothing. “It’s been a long time,” is all she can say, hoping he’ll understand. When he doesn’t say anything, she knows he doesn’t. That he’s waiting for her to continue.
Seeing him now, with his gray hair and lines creasing his face, confirms what she already suspected. She’s been gone for longer than she ever lived. Decades longer. Time moves differently here, but still, she knew. Over the years, memories began to fade. They grew dark and blurry. She felt herself fading along with them.
Her voice cracks as she tells the ground beneath her feet, “I don’t… I don’t remember…” She breaks before she can finish, folds in two and sobs into her hands.
He reaches for her, tries to speak, but she holds up a hand to stop him. She doesn’t want him to comfort her. His attempt only sparking anger. He doesn’t get to comfort her. He abandoned her. That anger forms a ball of fire inside her that dries her tears and sucks the emotion from her voice, “Don’t.”
He recoils, and she sucks in a breath to steady herself and says, “In the beginning, I thought you’d come for me. I knew you would. Didn’t doubt it for a second. You’d hear what happened and you’d find me. But you didn’t. You never came. And after a while I began to think you were right. That maybe this part of us is evil. That maybe I have died, and I’m in hell. Destined to be wandering lost and alone like this for eternity.”
“B, I-,” he starts, but she shakes her head, silencing him.
“I met others like us,” she continues, and he gapes at her. “They’re just kids, but powerful. More than they know. The boy doesn’t like me. He’s afraid of my…,” she gestures to her face, or lack thereof, “but the girl, she’s been kind to me. Sometimes she helps me remember things. Like the way we were at their age. Innocent and playful and imaginative. Inseparable and bickering constantly.” She smiles to herself, holding on to the feeling before it fades to mist. “I’m able to Travel to them. Easily. They’re family, right? Sadie and Simon. Do you know them?”
She can’t decipher the expression on his face as he shakes his head.
“I’m glad to have met them. I was lost and alone for so long. I was slipping away, losing my mind. Myself. It was really scary,” her voice cracks. She takes in a shaky breath, trying to steady herself as she continues, “But then there was this little girl, tiny and giggling and running through the trees. I don’t think she knew where she was or what she’d done, but there she was all the same. I think she’s given me a bit of my humanity back. And hope too. Like, maybe one day, she can help me find my way home.” She looks over at him, at her Mikey, her twin brother, her best friend, and pleads, “But now you’re here. You can help me, right? You have to help me. Please.”
He hesitates, the corners of his mouth pulling down, taking the rest of him with them. His whole body sags like whatever weight he’s been carrying just became too much. “I want to. More than anything. But I don’t think I can. I’m not strong enough, B. That’s why I called out for you. I can’t Travel.”
She stares at him. A million questions clamoring to get out, stumbling over top of each other until one finally breaks free, “Why? Why can’t you Travel? Why didn’t you come sooner?!”
“I would have come sooner if I could. I swear to you. But my father-in-law, whatever he did, it worked. I stopped dreaming. For decades. But then…”
“Then what?”
“It was… One minute I was sitting down for dinner, and the next I was at the lake with my toes in the sand. It’d been so long, I didn’t even know it was a dream until it was over. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I couldn’t speak. The doctor said I’d had a stroke. I got to you as soon as I could, but it’s not the same. I’m not the same. And I’m not sure how much time I have left.”
She shakes her head. Keeps shaking it. Willing what he’s saying not to be true. “No,” she cries, the anger building again, churning hot in her abdomen. How could he? She wishes he hadn’t shown up at all. All he did was bring false hope and force her to grieve the loss of him all over again. It’s cruel. Her rage grows hotter, boiling now like the surface of the sun, flaring through her veins and escaping through her fingertips in cracks and sparks.
She stands, begins pacing the length of the porch, but refuses to look at him, “No. No no no no no.” The air vibrates around her as she looks out at the road where she was on her hands and knees only moments before. A bolt of lightning strikes with a deafening roar that shakes the foundation of the house and rattles the windows.
“B! Stop!”
When she looks back at him, his eyes are pleading, “I may not be able to help you find your way home, but I think there is something else I can help you with.”
She stares at him. Part of her wants to aim the next lightning strike directly at him. Another part of her is curious. What could he possibly have to offer her if he can’t help her find her way back?
“Sit back down, please,” he gestures toward the vacated chair.
Reluctantly, she sits. She pulls in a breath. As she does, the smell of petrichor flows through her, dowsing the fire and nearly putting it out entirely. She knows he’s doing it on purpose, and she lets him. Lets the wave of calm wash over her.
She’s missed him so much.
“Better?” he asks.
She nods. Then, turns to him, “So, what is it you think you can help me with?”
He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a photograph, and hands it to her. “I can help you remember.”
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