by Jamie Magee
“Let me help.”
A slight smile came to the corners of his lips as his emerald green eyes rose to meet mine. “Dad already ruined the surprise; at least let me make it more than you imagine it could be.”
“Are you gonna play that song?” I asked.
He was silent for a second as he searched for words. “That song was meant to bring silence to us, and I’ve managed to do that already in the worst way imaginable; now I have to figure out how to take us back to where we began, to undo the damage I’ve done.”
“That song was meant to bring all of the shadows - or at least a lot of them - to one place so we could help them. I don’t think it should matter where they are – if the song is powerful enough.”
“Let’s hope,” he said in a heavy tone as he tried to smile.
“I’ll play more of what I came up with for you. You don’t have to show me what you have.”
“I know you well enough to know the rest of the riff. You’ve already helped more than you know. I have to find the words now – ones that cause them all to come back.”
“K. I’ll think about lyrics and text you with what I come up with,” I mumbled as thousands of words began to echo in my mind.
“I think you need to talk to your mom…you’re growing apart from her again, and you don’t want to do that – not now. We have no idea when or how we may leave this world.”
“So you’re willing to leave with Austin? If I find him and get him to come back, you’ll go?” I asked, piquing with hope and excitement.
He nodded slightly. “But only once he knows everything about me; only if he still wants to take us to his perfect world.”
“He loves you. His people don’t know another emotion. He’ll want us to go.”
“He’s human, Charlie. His world is just like ours; they just see things differently. I don’t want to be the man that breaks the endless peace they have there.”
“You bring peace,” I argued.
“I bring darkness.”
“Darkness that can be redeemed into a powerful light. See the positive, Draven.”
“Trying,” he said as he leaned closer to me and let his lips gently touch mine. I kissed him back slowly, wanting to delay our departure for as long as possible.
Once his lips left mine, a beaming smile spread across his face. “It’s amazing how powerful you make me feel…nothing hurts anymore.”
I blushed as I reached for my hand to cradle his flawless jawline. “Promise you won’t let this darkness take you over – no matter how painful it is; if you promise that, I’ll promise to always take the pain away.”
“Promise,” he whispered as he stole one more gentle kiss.
I grabbed my bag and reached for the door. It took everything I had to walk away from him. I told myself that today I’d try and make peace with my mom, find Austin, and be ready to say goodbye to this life – ready to leave at a moment’s notice for Austin’s world.
He waited for me to open the back door before he drove away. The moment I opened the door, I heard my father’s haunting guitar blaring through the house. Kara was at the stove, and Monroe and her tutor were at the table. The smell of waffles made my empty stomach ache. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten.
Monroe’s eyes moved across me, then she smiled subtlety as if she didn’t want anyone else to see her act normal. Her tutor seemed to notice, though, and she glanced at me and smiled.
“School has started already today, huh?” I said, trying to keep my voice at a normal level. My father’s guitar was so loud, I was tempted to talk over it – but I had to tell myself that they couldn’t hear it. He must have realized I was ignoring him because the sound began to grow calmer, yet held its intensity.
“We’re almost caught up,” Monroe’s tutor said as Kara walked over to me.
“Is she behind?” I asked ask I looked between Kara and the tutor.
“Monroe is a year ahead of her peers, like you were, but her move over here set her back a few weeks this semester. She really is quite brilliant,” Kara said.
The tutor nodded to agree. As my eyes met Monroe’s, I smiled. I knew how it felt to be so far ahead in school. For me, though, it was really weird because I went to school; at least by her being home-schooled, she wouldn’t always feel like the baby or out of place, like I did at school.
“Mom’s looking for you,” Kara said as she handed me a pate with a waffle and strawberries.
“So I hear,” I mumbled as I took a bite of my waffle. I knew talking to her would be my biggest challenge today.
“I was really worried about you – long before Monroe showed up in your car,” Kara said in her firm mother tone.
“Sorry – really,” I said as I took another bite.
Kara nodded her head toward the living room; I knew she didn’t want Monroe’s tutor to overhear the speech she was about to give me. I squeezed Monroe’s shoulder as I walked by in an effort to tell her that I was OK, determined and clear headed right now - even though I was sure she already knew that.
I took a few more fast bites of my waffle as I walked to the living room. Kara waited for me to chew before she began her impending speech.
“I know you’re going to be eighteen in a few days, that you’re way more mature and responsible than what that number reflects - but disappearing like you did yesterday was uncalled for. Now is not the time to be rebellious; there’s too much going on.”
My father’s guitar erupted as if to agree with her. I swallowed my last bite as I glared at the open room and the sound that seemed to surround me.
“Kara, seriously, maybe if you and mom hadn’t kept me in a glass box my entire life, I wouldn’t be so messed up right now. I needed time alone yesterday, and when that was over, I was with Draven - just like I was instructed to be by you and mom. I really don’t think a few hours in the middle of the day is anything for you to be mad at.”
At that moment, the guitar grew so loud, I dropped my plate and covered my ears. “Enough! I hear you!” I screamed.
The sound of the guitar dwindled down to almost a whisper. Kara picked up the plate as she smiled nervously and glanced at the tutor in the kitchen, then she urged me closer to the stairs.
“Apparently, those few hours have someone upset.”
“He’s upset because I figured out that he and mom have been keeping a big secret from me – that someone finally pulled the veil from my eyes.”
“Who is this someone? Britain?” Kara asked in an alarmed tone.
“No, but he was quick to divulge information, too. Listen, Kara, don’t worry about me. I’m gonna figure this out – figure me out.”
“Are you and Draven fighting? Who were you with yesterday?”
“We’re not fighting. I’m not gonna let this darkness take him over.”
“Who were you with?”
“Someone from my past.”
“What past, Charlie? Who?”
“Not this life. You don’t know him.”
“Him?! Charlie, this life? What are you talking about?”
“Listen,” I said as I began to climb the stairs. “This is bigger than you think. I’m gonna figure it out. Don’t make me explain what I don’t understand now.”
“Call Mom,” she said as I began to run up the stairs.
When I reached my old room, I saw Madison sleeping soundly on the floor, holding her sketch pad. I thought about waking her, but there was no telling how long she’d slept, and I needed her to be clear and well rested if she was gonna help me find Austin – and that Landen guy.
I let my bag fall to the ground silently, then I gathered some clothes. I wanted to take a shower and sift through what I’d say to my mom before I called her.
As the steaming water poured over me, the words I would say to her escaped me; instead, I moved my head to the rhythm of the sound I was working on, trying to hum to life lyrics – perfect lyrics. It wasn’t until I began to dry my hair that that I brought myself out of
the intolerable creative block I was fighting and thought about calling my mom.
I played out the conversation we would have, the prepared speech I was sure she had, and worked my way around it by coming up with comebacks and sarcastic remarks for my defense. The more I thought about how blind she’d kept me, the angrier I became. I mean, I know parents are supposed to protect their children from making the same mistakes they made, but that gave her no right to hide who she was – what I was – from me.
I pulled on my dark denim jeans and fastened my skull belt buckle before I layered on a few tank tops, covering them with an oversized T-shirt that fell to my waist.
When I opened the bathroom door, Madison rolled herself awake. I was sure she wanted to join in on the speech of how I shouldn’t have disappeared yesterday, but I was too focused on the impending argument I was about to have with my mom. I grabbed my bag, then pulled my charger from the wall that was lying next to her.
“I’m calling mom – then you and I are gonna track down Austin; we’re out of here, one way or another.”
She didn’t seem surprised by my boldness or offer an argument; instead, she stood and made her way to the bathroom. As I walked up the stairs to my new room, I held on to the words I’d prepared to say to my mother, growing less confident by the moment.
My father’s guitar was still scolding me when I reached my room. My eyes moved to the rock lamp Monroe had given me. It was glowing in the dim light of my room, but I didn’t see an image of my father anywhere. I walked over to the lamp, knowing I needed a plug if I was gonna bring my phone back to life.
“You could have told me,” I muttered into the room. “It’s not like I would have loved you less knowing that you were dark. I already thought yours and mom’s story was tragically beautiful; now I not only think that, I feel it because I’m living through the choices you made. Knowing that the path I’m on was traveled by you would have helped, you know.”
The sound of the guitar grew sympathetic, but it still held the same scolding tone that it had the entire time I’d been home.
I plugged in my charger, then pulled the cord around the lamp so I could plug in my phone. It beeped, but I knew I’d have to wait a minute or two for it to let me make a call.
“You have anything you want to say? I have a minute or so,” I said to the room. The guitar grew silent, which only made me angry.
I reached for the cord on the lamp, wondering if there were a way to make the rock brighter or something. I would rather argue with my father than my mother any day of the week. Out of nowhere, the guitar sound grew louder, then something unseen by my natural eyes knocked the lamp to the floor. I tried to catch it before it fell, but I wasn’t fast enough. As it collided with the hardwood, it shattered into thousands of pieces – literally. It wasn’t broken shards of rock, or even a shallow lamp with a broken bulb inside; it was now thousands of tiny rocks, much like the one on the bracelet Monroe had given me.
I instantly felt guilty for breaking her lamp. I rushed to the floor and tried to pull the pieces into a pile; I wasn’t sure if the sound of it hitting the floor could be heard on the first floor or if anyone would come and see what had caused it. As my hands touched the tiny rocks, I felt how warm they were – almost hot. I hesitated before picking up a few of them; I could swear they were still glowing. I looked around for the base of the lamp, trying to figure out what would cause them to be so warm, to glow.
Then I realized that my father must have broken it, and a sick, guilty feeling came over me. I don’t think he’s ever been mad at me before. He certainly has never broken anything before. I instantly changed my mind – I would rather argue with my mom.
With a handful of tiny rocks, I reached for my phone. It was still trying to find enough power to come to life. It would blink on and then off again, as if my charger wasn’t getting any power. I thought about just driving to my mom’s office. I was sure it would take over three hours at this time of day, but I wanted to see her face, to read her expressions as I forced her to explain why she hadn’t told me about her past.
I reached for my bag, but an invisible force moved across the room before I could touch it. An uncommon fear, one that I’d never had for my dad before, eased through my gut.
“What?!” I said in my defense. “Why did you break her lamp? I need to talk to mom – stop holding me back.”
At that moment, all of the little rocks began to move across the floor. I stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Once they were in a pile, he began to write a simple message within them – it was like watching a message come to life in sand. It read: ‘see her’.
“See her?” I read aloud. “Why did you take my bag? That’s what I was trying to -”
I stopped in mid-speech. I knew what he meant; he wanted to me to go her through seeing, to appear before her.
I fell to my knees as I read what he’d written again. “Is she at the New York office?” I asked in a quiet whisper.
The message in the rocks was whipped away, and the letter ‘y’ appeared.
“Fine,” I mumbled. The sound of his guitar erupted again, but not in a mean way; more like in a proud way.
I hadn’t been to my mom’s office in months, and quite frankly I was terrified of trying to move through memories without Draven there to guide me. I reached for my wrist and turned my bracelet to where I could see the pick that belonged to him, then closed my eyes and remembered her office. The smell of it, the wall of windows behind her large oak desk, the massive book shelves full of photos of me growing up, and the trinkets she’d collected from all her business trips. I held tightly to the memory of that room as I felt a rush of energy move through me. I then slowly opened my eyes and found myself standing in front of her desk.
She was there. Her blond hair was pulled back into a French twist, and she was wearing one of her powerhouse suits, though her jacket was draped across her large leather business chair. She was scrolling through her iPad - but the instant I appeared, the power to it faded, along with all of the lights, dimming the room. She slowly raised her eyes to meet mine, then she reached to pull her reading glasses off as she leaned back and glanced to my side.
My eyes followed her stare to see my father standing next to me. He was dressed in all black. A black leather cord was around his neck with a simple guitar pick hanging there. I unconsciously reached for my bracelet and fumbled with Draven’s pick. As I stared into the haunting image of my father’s dark eyes, I was reminded not only of how much I loved him, but how much I loved Draven. I never realized how redundantly they reminded me of each other.
My eyes moved back to my mother to see her calmly looking over me.
“Looks like you called a family meeting,” I mumbled.
She nodded slowly as her chair rocked with her.
The speech that I had, the words I wanted to say, they all vanished from my thoughts. They were both in one room. I’d only seen this happen once before - the night of my accident - but almost everything about that night was a blur…and that moment wasn’t nearly as private as this one. I felt anxiety rush through my soul.
“Do you have something you want to ask me – us?” my mother finally said.
“Why?” I mumbled.
“Why what, Charlie?” she said in her familiar, unapproachable tone.
“Just forget it,” I said as I stepped back, prepared to end this. I wanted to go back to my room and fight my own battles.
As I stepped back, my father reached his hand for my arm, and I felt a warm calm feeling stop me in my tracks. My mother stood slowly and walked around her desk.
“Charlie,” she said as she leaned on her desk just before me. “Most mothers read fairy tale stories to their children - not nightmares.”
“What are you saying? That the two of you are a nightmare?!” I said, louder than I intended. My father let his hand fall from my arm and moved to my mother’s side. Once his arm was around her, I watched the wall she’d placed between us slowly fall.
<
br /> Seeing them in each other’s arms nearly took my breath away. I’m sure most kids take seeing their parents in the same room or showing signs of simple affection for granted, but it was the one thing I wanted more than anything growing up: to have a happy, normal family.
“We are not a nightmare, but we had to fight one to be together – just like the one you’re about to fight,” she answered.
“It would have been so much easier if you’d told me, if I knew all along that this was coming. I would have figured out how to fight it by now.”
My mother’s blue eyes seemed to flood with wisdom. “Charlie, why would you have wanted to spend your life preparing for a moment that your heart will lead you through?”
“My heart? Are you serious? My heart isn’t the problem; understanding what I am what Draven is, this realm or dream world - that’s the problem. And then there’s Silas.”
As soon as I said Silas’s name, the expression on my father’s face grew angry, almost as if he were hurt.
“What?” I asked, looking at him. “Is he bad? How can he be bad when he carries so much calm and peace with him? Tell me what you know.”
My mother reached her arm around my father, and whatever anger he had faded with her attention. Then she looked at me and said, “He’s not bad, baby; he’s a warrior for our kind.”
“’Ours’ as in yours and mine – or ‘ours’ as in all of us?”
My mother looked up at my father, then to me. “As in the damned souls.”
“So he is bad,” I said as a breath of guilt escaped my soul.
Concern came over her beautiful face. “No, he’s doing what’s natural to him: defending the lost souls. And Draven and your dad are doing what’s natural to them.”
“Feeding on them,” I said before I was wise enough to choose safer words.
“Harsh words,” my mother said. “But true. It’s not their fault the darkness is pulled to them...they take what’s given to them....just like you take in air.”
“And what do we do, mom – you and me? How can we be both?”
“We balance…we see that the men we love aren’t evil or dark; they’re simply playing the role given to them.”