Drops of rain fell as memories of Maryah’s frightened face plagued me. I recalled the night of her attack.
She had appeared from nowhere. Her face floated in front of me as if projected into midair on an ethereal screen. At one point her mouth moved, but no words materialized. I blinked and she dissolved into the moonlight.
She reappeared minutes later looking worse than the prior vision. I immediately traversed to her, disregarding the consequences.
Maryah was barely breathing and covered in blood. I checked her fading pulse and saw she’d been impaled. The wood stake had penetrated her celiac artery. Medical training from a previous life had taught me to contain the bleeding, but applying topical pressure wouldn’t be enough. To an untrained eye, it would have looked like I was killing her. I carefully reinserted the wood into her wound, locating the pierced artery, and pressed hard.
The sirens were upon us. I kissed her eyes, vowing to do whatever it took to save her, praying the paramedics wouldn’t be too late. I hid in her parents’ boat and watched, ready to assist if needed, not caring if anyone questioned where I came from. But they stabilized her.
If Maryah had died, we’d have lost her forever. Forever is a long time when your existence is never-ending. The thought of Maryah returning to the Higher Realm with no knowledge of me or our kindrily made me shudder.
How could I have put her life in jeopardy again?
I prepared to jump. Silence and my steady heartbeat became my only soundtrack.
“Aether, Air, Earth, Fire, Water, I am you and you are I. Guide my soul so I may fly.”
I leaned forward, and became one with the sky.
Wind ripped through me as my body tumbled over itself. Ground. Sky. Ground. Sky. My vision blurred into a streaky canvas of which I was one drop of paint.
I wanted to fall forever.
I completed four full flips before extending my arms. The wings of my flight suit caught the air beneath me. The comforting smell of dirt and moist air blasted through my nose.
Flying: it is the second greatest feeling in the world. I didn’t want to think about the first. Tonight, love was my weakness. I wanted adrenaline to conquer all.
I kept my arms pressed against my side, gaining more speed. The mountains jagged walls whistled as I soared past them. BASE jumping in the dark meant I couldn’t see my shadow floating beside me. However, I could see the earth, trees, and mountains. I needed more exhilaration, so I closed my eyes, relying on my other senses to know when and where to turn or swoop. One wrong move and my ride would be over.
My move. My choice. Up here, I had control. No one could take it away from me.
Raindrops stung my skin as I descended upon a twisting trail along the edge of the mountain. The strip of ground grew wider. Earth and I were in the midst of a deadly game of chicken. I smiled, and the hundred-mile-per-hour wind sucked all the moisture from my mouth. Soon, the ground would be close enough for me to reach out and touch. If I did, the slight change in aerodynamics would seal my fate.
At the last moment, I whisked myself upward, leveling my body so it glided parallel with the trail only inches above the snaking path. My precious seconds of flight time were running out. I drifted away from the mountain, choosing an open valley for my drop zone.
I didn’t need an altimeter to tell me how close the ground was. If I had a parachute, I should’ve already released it.
Three thousand feet. As fast as the ground approached, my life should have flashed before my eyes.
Two thousand feet. Lightning pierced the sky.
One thousand feet. A punch of thunder shook the heavens.
Five hundred feet. My last breath.
One second before I would have splattered into the ground. I thought of Maryah.
Then I traversed.
I reappeared standing on the mountain I had just jumped from. My feet were back on the ground, planted in harsh reality.
Sheets of water poured down around me. I surveyed my body and emotions: no adrenaline rush, no excitement, not even a shiver from the cold rain. My flight barely served as a distraction. Without the love of my soul mate, I was dead inside.
I closed my eyes and jumped again.
A NAGGING PAIN
Maryah
Carson stomped past my room and slammed his bedroom door.
Convincing him to take me home early wasn’t easy, but I refused to stay anywhere near Nathan, the Jekyll and Hyde monster. Carson could defend Nathan all he wanted, but his schizophrenic brother tried to kill me. And insulted my family.
Forget my theory about me possibly being psychic. If that were the case wouldn’t I have known Nathan was a raging lunatic? And to think I wanted to call him Nathaniel because it sounded so sophisticated. No way. He nosedived off his pedestal and demoted himself back to Nathan, or better yet, Nut Job.
The others would be coming home tonight, but I wasn’t ready to discuss the incident again. I tried to block Nathan’s face out of my mind, to erase his voice and the memories of him—good and bad. That’s when my head started throbbing.
My migraines usually hit twice a year like clockwork. It wasn’t my birthday or Christmas, but the pain felt like the start of a migraine so I took my prescription meds to be safe.
It went from bad to worse. I woke up running for the bathroom, knowing I was moments from vomiting. As I ran, little specks of light flashed in front of my eyes. Definitely one of my torturous migraines. I wouldn’t even wish one on Nathan, my new worst enemy.
I came out of the bathroom, steadying myself against the walls as I made my way to the kitchen for a drink.
“Hello, Mary,” an older woman with black and silver hair said pleasantly.
Carson laughed. “Helen, her name is Maryah.”
“Oh, that’s right. My apologies, dear.” She smiled at me through cherry-painted lips. A faded Italian accent lingered behind some of her words. “It’s so nice to see you.”
I had no idea she and Edgar were coming home tonight. I prayed Carson hadn’t told them what happened. What would Helen think if she heard Nathan intentionally crashed her company balloon with me in it?
I tried to sound normal. “Hello, Mrs. Helen. Nice to meet you.”
“Call me Helen. The missus makes me sound old.”
She did look snazzy for a grandmother. Her pinned up curly hair looked like something from a photo shoot, and under her apron she wore a tailored pantsuit. She looked like someone I’d seen before. Maybe on television? She was definitely pretty enough to be a model or actress.
A surge of pain shot through my temples followed by a wave of nausea. I buckled over, holding my head and begging the universe to please not make me puke in front of Carson and Helen.
Helen rushed to my side. “Maryah dear, what’s the matter?”
“I get migraines, and one’s coming on fast.”
“Let’s get you into bed,” Helen insisted.
I rubbed the back of my neck. My head was starting to spin.
Helen guided me out of the kitchen. I kept my eyes shut to help block out some of the light and movement.
“Hang on,” I groaned. I tried steadying myself but my muscles went limp.
Helen held me up by my elbows. “Good heavens, it’s that bad?”
I tried nodding in response, but it hurt too much.
“I’ve got her,” Carson said beside me. He lifted me off my feet and cradled me in his arms.
“Careful,” Helen warned. “Try not to move her too much. Motion makes it worse.”
Carson carried me down the hallway like we were gliding on ice. I kept my eyes closed in fear of the pain that would follow if I opened them. As much as I didn’t want to, I rested my thousand-pound head on his shoulder.
Seconds later, I felt cool sheets against my skin. I barely felt a bounce as Carson placed me on my bed.
“Would you like the covers on you?” Helen whispered.
“Yes,” I murmured.
“Carson, draw all the cur
tains so there is no sunlight.”
“Sure thing.”
I heard Carson whooshing around the room, but my brain and body were shutting down. With the little bit of strength I had left I muttered, “Thank you.”
Helen hushed me and then my bedroom door clicked shut.
I reached out my arm and grabbed the nightstand. The room was spinning and holding onto a solid object helped alleviate some of the dizziness. I prayed for sleep, but it never came. I floated in and out of consciousness, but the pain wouldn’t allow me to fully rest.
I stayed that way for what felt like days until someone propped me up so I was almost sitting upright.
Helen’s voice whispered through the darkness. “I need to you to sip and swallow.”
I felt a plastic straw make its way between my lips. “No,” I groaned, turning my head away.
“Please, angel. I really do believe it will help.”
I knew I’d soon be throwing up whatever she was forcing me to drink, but she placed the straw between my lips again, and I took a sip.
The tea had a spicy yet tangy citrus flavor and the earthy aroma of the steam made my nose tingle. I waited for my gag reflex to kick in.
“Please, try to drink a little more,” she whispered.
I don’t know how many sips I took. I don’t remember anything beyond the sipping because I finally fell asleep.
∞
Nut Job returned to my dreams. My curtains were pulled shut like in real life, and I saw myself asleep in bed. Nathan sat by my side in the rattan chair watching me. What a stupid dream. Why would anyone watch someone sleep? I hated the real Nathan, but in my dreams he was still gorgeous, protective, and sweet.
I moved closer to him. His chest rose and fell underneath his green t-shirt. He had worry creases around his eyes, so I tried to smooth them away with my thumbs like Krista always did to me. He snapped his head upward, startling me. I backed away and banged my hand into the corner of my dresser.
I looked down and noticed the peacock feather in my ring was shimmering and swirling again. When I looked up, Nathan’s eyes met mine.
He squinted and stood up then walked toward me. I held my breath, half expecting him to reach out and touch me, but he froze as if someone had pressed the pause button on a remote control. A white fog rose all around us. He stood motionless in mid-stride, not even breathing. His green eyes stared ahead, but he didn’t blink.
My bedroom door opened and Anthony came in. He looked around, shaking his head. With one swoop, he picked up Nathan and carried him out of the room. The door shut soundlessly behind him.
Beyond strange. Anthony had never been in my dreams before. And why would I dream that he took Nathan away? A therapist would have a field day trying to interpret the crap my mind created.
My dream flashed to Edgar and Helen’s cottage. The fog lingered in this scene too. Anthony set Nathan down on the floor, and instantly the haze lifted. Nathan stepped forward—almost blindly—but he stopped right before knocking over Helen’s floor vase.
“I hate it when you do that,” Nathan grunted.
Anthony blew his dark bangs off his forehead and tightened the drawstring of his pajama pants. “Hate is a strong word. Now, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to make sure she was okay, and to say my final goodbye.”
“While she’s sleeping? What good does that do? Besides, you know as well as I do that you’ll never be able to permanently say goodbye to her.”
Nathan paced the floor. “When she’s asleep, I can still sense the amorous soul who loved me, because I don’t have to look into her eyes. Seeing her as a stranger kills me. She was my home, my sanctuary, and my best friend. All that we had has been erased.” Nathan ran his hands over his head and sat down. “Her eyes prove she’s an empty vessel—a ghost ship—passing through this life with no idea that I’m her harbor.”
Where did my subconscious get this romantic garbage?
Anthony pulled a chair over and placed it in front of Nathan, sitting to face him. “I can’t imagine the anguish you’re in. I couldn’t endure it for an hour, much less eighteen years, but there is a reason for this. There is always a reason for everything. You have to take comfort in that.”
“Take comfort in what? I have nothing left to take comfort in. Every touch, every conversation, everything we’d been through together, it’s all gone—forever.”
“Not forever.” Anthony argued. “We both know how prodigious the term forever is. You thought at one point that she was physically gone forever—that you’d never see her again. Yet here she is, lusterless eyes and all, reconnecting with our kindrily.”
Lusterless? Who was he calling lusterless? My eyes weren’t beautiful or anything, but lusterless seemed harsh. And what did kindredlee mean? Now I was creating make-believe words in my dreams? I needed my head examined—again.
“She’s not the same. She’s so…empty, so hollow.”
I flinched at Nathan’s hurtful words.
Anthony sighed. “Every vessel is empty until someone takes the time to fill it. How is a ship expected to find her harbor if no lighthouse guides her through the darkness?” Anthony laid his hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “There’s still time. She was born a stranger, but not yet buried as one. This sojourn isn’t finished for either one of you.”
I’d seen the word sojourn in one of my Shakespeare assignments, but how could I dream about it if I didn’t know its definition?
Nathan shook his head. “I did what all of you asked, what Marcus suggested. I attempted to reconnect with her. It made matters much worse. I put her life in danger. I can’t forgive myself for that. For the sake of everyone involved, I can’t be around Maryah. No more grand schemes and foolish hope that her memories will resurface. It’s destroying me.” He slumped forward. “I can’t live another cycle of life without her.”
Anthony’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean…?”
“Yes, I’m going to erase.”
“Nathan, you’re stronger than this.”
I could barely hear Nathan’s next words. “Sometimes the strong become the weak.”
Cycle of life? Erase what? This dream was too much for me to handle. I wanted it to be over, so I imagined being back in my bed and pinched my wrist.
I woke up scanning my dark room. My headache was almost completely gone. At first, I thought maybe I’d imagined Helen and her miracle tea, but then I saw a half-empty mug sitting on my nightstand.
I stared at the chair where I dreamt Nathan had sat. He had been so full of sorrow it made my heart hurt. Wait. Why was I getting so emotional? Nathan Luna was probably sound asleep in New Mexico or Colorado and not the least bit sad.
I needed a drink, but it was three in the morning so I tiptoed to the kitchen. I’d just finished placing the mango-guava juice back into the refrigerator when the back door squeaked open. Anthony came around the corner and I almost dropped my glass. He looked exactly like he had in my dream.
We’d never crossed paths during the night. I had no idea what he wore to bed. Even in the mornings, he never came out of his bedroom until he was dressed and ready for the day. So how did I dream up his exact plaid pajama pants and wrinkled yellow t-shirt? The colors didn’t even go together. His wool slippers were identical to the ones in my dream. His dark hair was even sticking up in the same places.
“Maryah, you okay?”
“Oh—yeah. Sorry, Anthony. You startled me. I didn’t know you and Louise were home.” I fumbled over my words, trying to make sense of this latest psychic freak-out. What had he been doing outside in the middle of the night in his pajamas? “Where were you?”
“Where was I?” he repeated. “I couldn’t sleep, so I worked on my car.”
“In the dark?”
“There are lights in the garage,” he countered.
“Oh. Okay.” Anthony designed cars and planes for a living, so why wouldn’t he work on them at night? An uncomfortable silence built up as we stood there in
the dark.
“I’m sorry about the incident with Nathan.” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants while I stood there not knowing what to say. “Helen said you had a bad headache. You sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah, she gave me tea that helped it.”
“Ah, yes. Helen and her recipes. Universal Flavorings can’t sell most of them in stores because they’re too potent.”
“Helen makes teas for Universal Flavorings?” My family drank that brand for years, not to mention it lined the shelves of every grocery store I’d ever been in.
“She founded the company.”
“That’s like, the biggest tea company in the world!”
“Mm, hmm. She’s done well for herself.”
No wonder the Lunas lived in such a big house. Helen must be a millionaire.
“Well, I’m going back to bed.” He reached the hallway and called out, “Sweet dreams, Maryah.”
I paused, shaken up by his choice of words. He couldn’t possibly know that I’d been dreaming about him. Paranoia was getting the best of me again.
I went to my room and climbed into bed. My eyes were only closed for a few seconds when I heard a rustling behind my headboard. I sat up, and could’ve sworn I saw Nathan reflected in my dresser mirror, but when I turned around no one was there.
Just dandy. Nathan was my real life nightmare who wouldn’t stay out of my dreams, and now I was hallucinating about him when I was awake. My brain was officially on the fritz.
SPILLING SECRETS
Maryah
Faith and Harmony picked me up for school as usual. Faith seemed to have more energy than normal if that’s humanly possible.
“Good Morning, Ma-Ma!”
“Mama?” I asked, not amused.
“Ma-Ma. It’s short for Maryah, but twice, so it’s double the fun!”
“How can you be so energetic this early in the morning?”
If a drug existed that made people excessively happy and overly optimistic, Faith overdosed on it daily. I crawled into the back seat and mumbled hello to Harmony.
Grasping at Eternity (The Kindrily) Page 13