“Your father will be taking her back to Serbia soon. Permanently.”
Those words cause my whole body to jerk around.
My eyes flash on Isaac, full of anger and censure. “No, Isaac. You can’t let him force you to go to Serbia!”
Isaac doesn’t look at me; his penetrating gaze hones in on the wall out ahead, but I read total defiance and resentment in his expression.
Trajan is in Serbia all the time; he’s there more than he is here these days, but if he takes Aramei back there…no, this isn’t going to happen. He’s not taking Isaac away from me or me away from my aunt and uncle.
“Isaac….”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, finally looking at me. “I won’t let it happen.”
The subject is quickly diverted when I see the servant’s eyes widen as she stares off toward Aramei. And then Isaac is sharing her expression, causing me to turn around to see what has them both so mesmerized.
Aramei has turned fully around and is looking straight at me. Not through me as if I’m not standing here, but at me as though she actually sees me.
My hand flies to my chest.
My eyes dart back and forth between the three of them and I’m waiting for someone to say something because I’m so stunned that I don’t know what I’d say if I had to say anything at all.
But no one murmurs a word.
It’s like we’re afraid to breathe, afraid to move for fear of scaring Aramei back into the static, unconscious state she’s been in for so long.
Tears pour from my eyes, but I’m not sure why. I search my mind and my heart for some explanation, some buried emotion I never knew I had which has reared its ugly head in the most awkward moment, but I find nothing.
It’s almost as if the tears I’m crying aren’t mine.
Isaac carefully moves in behind me.
“Why is she looking at me like that,” I whisper to him in a shuddering voice, but I don’t move my eyes from Aramei’s.
“I don’t know,” he says against my ear and I can sense that he hasn’t taken his eyes off her, either.
Aramei walks across the hardwood floor toward me and my body just becomes stiffer and stiffer, my eyes widening beyond their limits, my lips parted. I see in her eyes something I’ve never seen before: life, though it’s so vague and so frail that the slightest wrong move might scare it completely away.
I do stop breathing when Aramei stands directly in front of me and reaches out her pale, delicate hand and touches my face. My legs melt with weakness, but I manage to stay on my feet, feeling Isaac’s grip tighten just a little around my waist.
“You see me….” She says in a voice almost too soft to hear and more tears roll down my cheeks.
Her hand falls away, and just like that, Aramei slips back inside that void that used to be her mind. I fall into Isaac’s chest, trying to shake off…I don’t know…what the hell just happened? I didn’t faint. I know, because I remember everything; I just don’t understand any of it.
As the servant rushes over to help Aramei to the bed, Isaac helps me into the chair by the balcony overlooking the downstairs floor.
“She’s only ever acknowledged my father in that way,” he says bewilderingly, but then his worries shift only to me. “Adria, are you alright?” He pulls the empty chair over next to me, sitting directly in front of me, laying his arms across my thighs.
“Yeah, I just…,” I raise my eyes to look up at him. “Isaac….”
He’s gazing at me with anticipation but I can’t go any further. I can’t tell him that I think I just felt Aramei’s emotions. There’s no other way to explain it even to myself, but that’s exactly what it felt like. I wasn’t crying my tears. I think I was crying hers.
I’m losing it…I’m finally starting to lose my mind.
“Get her some water,” Isaac demands the servant, but I object.
“I don’t need any water; I’ll be alright.”
I’ll never be alright.
I see Isaac nod intently at the servant and she bows and heads down the stairs anyway.
“We’ll stay here tonight, okay?” he says, moving the loose hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear.
I raise my eyes to his and don’t hold back the reluctant expression. “I don’t know, Isaac…” I glance over at Aramei as she lies quietly on her side in the comfort of her bed.
Isaac puts my face in his hands. “I’ll make you a bed. Right now. And you can sleep this off and we’ll go home in the morning.” He kisses my forehead, letting his lips sit pressed against it for a long moment and then he looks at me again.
“I want to stay up here with you.”
“No,” he says resolutely. “You’re going to bed.”
“But where will you be?”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll go to bed with you down there on the couch. Eva can stay up here with Aramei.”
I’m not going to argue with him about staying. I knew when we came here that we’d probably be here for a few hours and that as late as it already was when he picked me up, that spending the night here was likely anyway.
I just wasn’t prepared for it.
Seeing Aramei the way she is, seeing again firsthand exactly how I’m going to be, is one thing. But spending more than a couple of hours in her presence, trying to sleep with her practically in the same room, that’s not exactly what I had in mind.
I’m assuming the auburn-haired servant is Eva. She comes back up the stairs with a glass of water and hands it to me. I thank her and she waits for Isaac’s nod of approval before she goes back over to Aramei.
It was a good idea. I drink the water down so fast that I feel like I just can’t drink enough.
Isaac has a few more words with Eva before he takes me with him downstairs and makes us a bed on the couch. There are plenty of fresh pillows and clean linen that the servants had for Aramei’s use, so sleeping on the old, dusty couch isn’t so bad. Isaac orders all of the servants to sleep upstairs and I’m glad for this because it would be weird lying on a couch with about a dozen people scattered about in pallets on the floor all around us.
The couch is small, but Isaac and I lay comfortably with me facing him, curled up against his chest with my head tucked underneath his chin. All of the lanterns have been snuffed out leaving the cabin dark and it’s so incredibly quiet that I can hear the insects outside and the sound of that rushing water nearby falling relentlessly over rocks. It’s almost too quiet; if I didn’t already know they were everywhere, I never would have guessed that there were so many servants and guards inside and around this cabin.
The steady sound of Isaac’s breathing lulls me to sleep. And I know I’m dreaming now because I’m partially aware of this urgency to wake up. I lift away from Isaac’s arms to see the front door of the cabin close softly and from the window I watch a figure with quiet, silky movements glide down the steps. I get up to follow, leaving Isaac in a deep sleep on the couch. I’m only dreaming. Nothing about this feels real, all except for that part of my subconscious that tells me I should push forward.
I slip outside into the night. The forest landscape is bathed by moonlight and a dark blue hue. There isn’t a sign of a werewolf anywhere and in this dream I look behind me at the old cabin to see that it’s no longer a cabin, but the entrance to a cave. But I don’t think any more about it and I follow Aramei’s angelic figure making its way through the trees out ahead; the thin, white gown that covers her is blowing against the trees as she passes between them.
She’s standing at the edge of the river. A waterfall rolls and tumbles into the river below, but it sounds so soft, softer than it should sound if any of this were real.
I walk toward Aramei and she keeps her back to me. The wind combs gently through her hair and pushes the see-through fabric of her gown against her petite, hourglass form.
She turns only her head and the silky light-colored hair blows against the side of her cheek. She is so hauntingly beautiful.
/> “You see me,” she says in a whisper, yet it sounds as though she’s standing right next to me. “Don’t shut your eyes.”
I wake up with a jolt, hearing the sound of Eva’s voice coming down the stairs.
“She’s gone, Milord!”
Isaac stirs awake behind me and I’m still trying to get my head together.
Eva rushes around the couch and stops dead cold, looking down at me and toward the floor. Her eyes look to and from me and Aramei, who is asleep sitting up on the floor next to me with her head lying against the couch.
“Milord….”
Isaac rises up fully and helps me over to one side of the couch without waking Aramei up. He and Eva look at one another as if some kind of miracle has been performed.
“How did she get down here?”
Isaac goes into a stand, but I stay where I’m at, completely dazed by what’s happened.
“I-I don’t know, Milord,” Eva says nervously and I can tell that she’s no stranger to certain kinds of punishments where Aramei’s safety is concerned.
But Isaac is not Trajan and he easily reminds her of this.
“It’s okay, Eva,” he says and looks back at me and then down at Aramei who still hasn’t stirred. There’s so much going on inside his mind right now that it shows all over his face.
“I will take her back upstairs,” Eva says approaching Aramei.
Isaac stops her and lifts Aramei into his arms and carries her up instead. Eva scurries closely behind him, glancing back at me with that look in her eyes; that stunned, mystified look.
When Isaac comes back down he takes my hand.
“We need to go,” he says, though his voice is distant.
We leave within minutes. The early morning sun has risen fully and it’s a beautiful, perfect day, but I can’t think of anything on the drive home but what happened.
And Isaac and I hardly speak.
I can’t bring myself to tell him my thoughts, and maybe Isaac is just as afraid of his. We both settle with Aramei must ‘like’ me, which I guess doesn’t seem so impossible. She may be oblivious to this world, but she sometimes seems to recognize Trajan, so maybe it’s not so unbelievable that something like this could happen.
Of course, I’m not totally buying it, either.
21
ISAAC DROPS ME OFF at home and I sleep a few hours longer before heading to work with Beverlee at Finch’s Grocery. And when I get home later in the afternoon, I find myself desperate for something to do. Something normal.
So, I spend the next twenty minutes unpacking my stuff from Portland and then I take a shower. I gather all of my dirty laundry and take it in the laundry room to start a load. Pushing up on my toes to reach the shelf over the washing machine where Beverlee keeps the detergent, I notice a small folded stack of my sister’s clothes, covered by a thick layer of dust and dryer lint from sitting there so long. I think of Alex for a moment, lost in glimpses of her smiling face that only manages to depress me. I jerk the detergent down and fill up the cap, pouring it into the washing machine. After I twist the cap back on, I shove the container against Alex’s clothes, pushing them farther back onto the shelf and out of sight.
While cleaning the lint catcher from the dryer so I can start the load Beverlee had left in the washer, I hear Uncle Carl’s wheelchair moving across the porch and back into the house, the screen door closing hard against the back of his chair.
“Who is it?” I hear him say to Beverlee and I start the dryer and walk back out into the hall.
But as I get closer to the kitchen, I slow my steps because something about Uncle Carl’s voice seems different and I want to listen.
“It’s about Rhonda,” I hear Beverlee say my mother’s name and I stand off to the side, hidden by the shadows of the hallway. Beverlee hands the cordless phone to Uncle Carl. “Yes,” he nods listening to the person on the other end of the phone. “Yes, thank you for calling to let us know.”
My heart is beating really fast and my face is getting hotter, but it has nothing to do with my episodes—what’s happened to my mom?
I hear the phone beep off as Beverlee places it back inside the charger.
I fly the rest of the way around the corner, staring at them both with a look of total desperation. “What’s wrong with my mom?”
Uncle Carl looks at Beverlee first and then back at me. “She’s in the hospital,” he says to both of us. “Some kind of accident—that was some friend of hers, Janice Bentley, on the phone.”
Janice Bentley was our next-door neighbor who has about a hundred cats.
I move into the kitchen. “Well is she okay?”
“She was hurt pretty bad but they expect her to make a full recovery. Mrs. Bentley said she would be in the hospital for several more days.”
“I’m going,” I say as if it’s final and start toward the stairs.
“Adria!” Beverlee says running out of the kitchen. She stops me before I make it up the first step. “What do you mean?”
I suck in a deep breath. “I have to see her, Aunt Bev. My mom wasn’t in an accident. Jeff did this to her. I can guarantee it.”
“You’re not going to Georgia,” Uncle Carl says from the kitchen. “I don’t want you anywhere near that man. He’s the reason you’re here, remember?”
I move away from the steps and back into the kitchen light. Beverlee places her hand on my shoulder from behind.
“Please Uncle Carl,” I say, looking down at his worried face from the wheelchair. “I’m old enough to be able to handle things on my own. This is my mom!” I’m not trying to yell at him, I’m just distraught and he knows this.
Beverlee’s hand gently squeezes my shoulder.
“Let her go,” Beverlee says standing beside me now. “I think she’ll be fine. She’s very responsible.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Uncle Carl says and at this point I feel like I’m going to have to pull an Alex and just leave. “Why don’t you go with her?” he says, looking hopefully at Beverlee.
“No—look, Uncle Carl,” I say, stepping up, holding out my hands, “Aunt Bev needs to hang around here. You haven’t been home long. I can handle myself, I’m not twelve.” I didn’t mean for that last part to sound so snippy, but it came out that way. I’m just really apprehensive. My face falls and I try to fix it. “I’ll only go to the hospital. Not like Jeff will risk doing anything to me there in front of people. Besides, he’s a coward and to be honest, I’m not the slightest bit afraid of him and he knows it.”
Uncle Carl sighs and looks off toward the den.
“Maybe get Isaac to go with you,” Beverlee suggests, hoping that might help ease Uncle Carl’s mind. “Or even Harry.”
“Harry can’t,” I say. “He’s already on his way back to Portland with his dad so they can get his car running—I’ll call Isaac.”
I stand here, waiting for Uncle Carl to say something, or even just show an expression that’ll give me the go-ahead. I’m too anxious and feel like I need to leave right now.
Uncle Carl thinks about it for a second longer and finally starts nodding. “Alright,” he says, “see if Isaac will go with you.”
I hug Uncle Carl tight and rush upstairs. As I’m re-packing my duffle bag, tossing whatever clean clothes I happen to see first down inside of it, I consider Isaac again and start to think that taking him with me isn’t such a great idea, after all.
Isaac would kill Jeff. He already hates him just for being what he is and what he put me through growing up.
No, I can’t take Isaac.
Things just got a lot more complicated.
But I don’t have time for the phone call, trying to explain to Isaac that this is something I need to do alone, or risk him rushing to the airport to stop me, or force himself onto the plane.
I just need to go and I need to do it now before anyone else finds out that I’m leaving and it gets around to Isaac.
Beverlee comes into my room. “Did you talk to him?”
I hesitate and look away, throwing my toothbrush back inside my bag so I’m not looking her in the eyes when I say, “He didn’t pick up his phone, but I’ll be alright. It’s probably better I do this by myself anyway.”
Beverlee looks wary; she knows I’m lying to her.
“I’ll take you to the airport,” she says, smiling faintly and I thank her by smiling back for not only her faith in me, but also her discretion.
~~~
When the plane touches down in Georgia, I can hardly contain myself in the seat waiting for them to let us off. And when they finally do, I step off to the instant feel of familiarity. I lived in Georgia all my life and no matter how long I’m away from it, it will always feel somewhat like home.
I catch a cab to Athens Regional and it lets me off in the front under the hospital’s towering glass walls. It’s definitely going to be strange seeing my mom again after nearly a year and not one phone call from her, but I don’t care how much she’s hurt me, she’s my mom and I’ll always love her.
I enter the hospital through the Emergency area with my purse and the small duffle bag over the same shoulder. The woman behind the counter gives me directions to the part of the hospital where inpatients are housed. I follow a series of hallways that all look alike and then find an elevator to take me up to the second floor where I just end up walking in circles until I stop and ask a housekeeper for directions the rest of the way. “All the way to the end of the hall. Swing a left and it’s right down that way, darlin’.” I thank her and walk a little faster. It’s nice to hear that familiar southern accent I’m so used to. Mainers have such a distinct accent next to the southern drawl.
Finally, I come upon the room. I stand outside the large beige door with my hand barely touching the silver lever knob. I’m hoping that Jeff isn’t inside because I need to visit my mom without having to see his face, or smell the thirty-year’s worth of vomit-inducing beer emanating from his pores.
He needs to be rotting in jail right now, but I know it’s not likely.
Kindred Page 21