Wake Up

by Brooke De Lira

I let my gaze drift to the window overlooking the lake. The planters along the windowsill were devoid of life, just like the ones at my house. Typical. “Have you always lived in Shy Harbor?” I finally ventured.

  “Nah, I moved up here a few years ago from Florida.” He paused in thought. “I’ve been working at the Half Moon Inn over on the highway. The lady who owns it, Mrs. Kent, has me take care of the grounds and do maintenance in exchange for food, board, and a couple of bucks. It’s not much, but it’s holding me over for now.”

  “Who in their right mind would move from sunny Florida to Wisconsin?”

  We both chuckled.

  “Seriously, though, what brought you here? Do you have family nearby?”

  He cleared his throat, cracking an uncomfortable smile. “Just wanted a change of scenery, I guess. Anyway, what about you? You look like you know your way around town. Do you live here? Is there anyone I can call up for you?”

  I shook my head. “I’m alone, just like you. My parents used to come here every summer, but I doubt they ever will again. I came here to find something I lost, a long time ago now.”

  Luke leaned forward, curious. “What’s that?”

  “A memory.” I looked out the window at the group of feral cats huddled on the balcony. Some of them stared at something just beyond, but the shoreline was empty.

  Luke took a sip of his hot chocolate, brow furrowed. “And you think something in Shy Harbor can help you remember?”

  “I have to believe it can.”

  A loud hiss came from outside, drawing my attention to the window again. Every cat was staring at the invisible enemy now, their backs arched and fur bristled, doubling their size. Some growled and spat, ears flattened against their heads. The stretch of empty shoreline seemed to draw my eyes to it as well, filling my body with an inexplicable sense of dread. Something was watching us.

  “Madelyn.”

  My chest felt too tight to breathe.

  “Madelyn, are you okay?”

  I shot my eyes back to Luke, who wore a worried expression.

  “Umm… I’m sorry” I stumbled from my chair, nearly knocking the table over in my hurry. “I have to go.”

  “Woah, woah. Slow down. Let’s just sit down and talk.”

  I turned toward the door, leaving Luke’s sweatshirt draped over the cafe chair. He grabbed my arm. “Come on, Madelyn. Maybe…”

  Some of the older locals turned from their conversations to stare at us. Luke lowered his voice. “Maybe I can help you.”

  I shook my head violently, trying to suppress the urge to flee, like the mentally disturbed person he undoubtedly thought I was. “I’m sorry Luke. You can’t. Only one person can help me right now.”

  With that, I jerked my arm from his grip and hurried out of the cafe, the feeling of dread following every step.

  ***

  I waited on a bench at the heart of Main Street, analyzing each gloomy local with my mind’s eye, trying to decide whether they were the one. A boy of about ten years old glanced at me for a moment before being dragged into the hardware store by his mother. No, it wasn’t him. An old Native American lady with a stout figure and a long braid seemed to turn her attention my way. But it wasn’t her. I can’t say how I knew. I just did.

  This would be easier if she didn’t take a different form in every dream. Walking amongst my ordinary dream people, the apparition I called C always found a way to seek me out when I wished for her. Why was she taking so long now?

  Another person caught my attention, a little girl in a white jacket and white skirt. She slowly turned in my direction, her eyes hidden by shadows. The payphone down the sidewalk began to ring, making me jump. I waited to see if it continued. It did. Once, twice. I sprinted over to pick up the receiver, then waited.

  “You’ve kept me waiting, Madelyn.” The voice was that of an older woman, calm and even.

  “Where are you, C?” I lowered my voice to a whisper as a curious man walked by.

  The woman on the other end spoke clear directions, and I repeated them under my breath to memorize the path. Hanging up, I glanced around before striding down the sidewalk toward the shoreline. I walked past the beach, past the marina, past Silent Pines Resort to the small, wooded neighborhood on the edge of town.

  After some minutes, I arrived at the house C had described, a rustic cabin that hugged the shoreline so closely, the waves might rush through the front door on a particularly windy day. It looked abandoned.

  I took a deep breath through my nose, my hands on the screen door that hung slightly off its hinges. I swung it open to see a Native American woman in her mid-forties seated on a dusty rocking chair, whittling some wood. At least twelve cats gathered around her feet, eating generous heaps of kibble out of several large bowls.

  I stood in the doorway, taking in the sight. Without looking up from her carving, she laughed under her breath. “What, not what you were expecting? Just because you aren’t a big cat person doesn’t mean I can’t be.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense, C. You are me.”

  She nodded, a whimsical sparkle in your eye. “Well, then I guess you like cats more than you think.”

  I walked to the rocking chair and sat down on the wood floorboards beside it. Strange as it might seem, my own Consciousness, my most aware self, always found a way to surprise me. Talking to myself in the form of visiting C was never a waste of time.

  “I take it you called me because you have something important to discuss,” she murmured.

  “You must know that I haven’t been able to wake up.”

  She nodded knowingly. “You retrieved the Key, didn’t you?”

  I pulled the agate necklace from my pocket, stuffing it back into my jacket when a tabby cat started batting at the stone. “If I found the Key, I must be close to finding my unconscious.”

  “Perhaps, but what good will it do if you’re trapped in your own mind? Remember that the Shy Harbor of your dreams is just your own projection of your mind itself. When you swam to the bottom of good old Superior, you were truly venturing to the deepest part of your mind. Are you surprised you can’t find the way out?”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “All right, enough lecturing. What can I do to wake up?”

  C shook her head, her smile dropping to a weary frown. “On that point, I’m equally lost. I’m afraid the only way to wake up now is to find your unconscious. Only that part of your mind has the power to bring you back to the surface.”

  Panic rose to my chest. “You can’t be serious. It took me a year just to find the Key. What will happen to my body while I’m asleep that long? I’ll die!”

  C held up a hand to calm my rising voice. “Don’t jump to conclusions. Time passes differently here.”

  But as she spoke, her confidence seemed to waver. She turned away to stare at the lake through the window. A strange spot on her neck caught my eye. No, it wasn’t a spot. I was seeing right through her to the window on the other side. “C, what’s wrong with your neck?”

  She quickly covered it with a long lock of black hair.

  “Just a little glitch in your mind’s projection of me, I’m sure.”

  I let the subject go. “So, any bright ideas about where to find my unconscious?”

  “Yes, actually I do have one. This might be taking the long way around, but considering our situation, it might be the only way.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You have to solve your brother’s death on your own, here in your dream world.”

  For a second, I wondered if she was joking. “What?”

  “The unconscious is where your memory is locked away. Discovering the truth would lead you to the memory, and thus your unconscious.”

  “But this isn’t the real Shy Harbor. Anything I find out would just be my own mind trying to create the truth.”

  C just smiled. “That might be true if you didn’t know the details of Aiden’s death, but you do. The truth is there. It’s just hidden.”

>   I wasn’t completely convinced, but… Damn. Maybe C was right. This could be the way to get back to the real world. And to finally find what I came here for.

  Aiden, I won’t let you down. “Where do I start?”

  “Aiden’s room, I would say.”

  I gave her a hard stare, a lump rising in my throat. “No, I can’t go there. You know I can’t.”

  “If you want to get out of this mess, we’ll have to face our emotions, Maddie. No matter how much they hurt.”

  I let the thought brew in my mind for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine, I’ll do it.” I immediately got up to leave.

  “And Madelyn.”

  I turned back to look at her, my hand grazing the door handle.

  “I know what I said before, but do hurry. I’m afraid... I do have a feeling that time’s not on our side.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I walked briskly along the boardwalk toward our summer home, trying to stop my hands from trembling at the thought of seeing Aiden’s room for the first time since he died. I groped through my pockets while taking in the sight of the marina. Countless sailboats and fishing boats still floated at the docks.

  Finally, my hand touched my old-school MP3 player in an inner jacket pocket. I stuffed the earphones in my ears, ready to be calmed by my favorite punk-rock playlist. I pressed the Play button. Nothing. Just then, I remembered my little swim that morning with a groan. Damn you, dream physics.

  Before I could will the device to fix itself, a familiar figure on the landing dock stole my attention. Luke sat with legs hanging off the edge of the dock, a full backpack and duffel bag beside him.

  I veered off the path to meet him on the edge of the dock. “Going somewhere?”

  He started at the sudden approach, forcing a grin when he saw it was just me. “Well, well. I hope you found whoever you were looking for. You left me in a really awkward place at the cafe.”

  “My bad,” I mumbled, sitting down beside him. I swung my legs over the edge to dangle them over the water.

  He sat in quiet contemplation for a few moments. “The Inn has been struggling for a while now, especially after those new hotels popped up just down the interstate. When I went back there after Connie’s, Mrs. Kent said she couldn’t afford to keep me anymore.”

  My heart dropped at the forlorn tone in his voice. “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “She’s done more for me these past years than I ever deserved. I’m lucky she kept me this long.”

  I bit my cheek. “Will you go back to Florida?”

  His face twisted in contempt. “Hell no.”

  Then, looking embarrassed, he lowered his voice. “I mean, no. I’ll probably just keep hitch-hiking north, maybe check out Minnesota.”

  I was dying to question him about his drifting lifestyle, especially for someone barely past my age, but I thought better of it. Why would it matter if none of it was real?

  After staring at the ripples in the water for a while, an idea came to me that was so obvious, I wanted to hit myself for not thinking of it before.

  “I’m headed over to my parents’ seasonal place right now. It’s been vacant for years, and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you stayed there with me for a few nights. It even has a cupboard full of canned food to hold us over. What do you say?”

  He met my eyes as if trying to decipher whether my offer was serious. “That’s really nice of you, but I’d hate to intrude.”

  I shook my head. “No way. To be honest, I’d really love some company.”

  My face flushed, and I turned back to face the water. That was not supposed to come out like that. Oh God, I hoped he wouldn’t take it the wrong way. Wait, why was I getting so worked up about this?

  Seemingly oblivious to my painful awkwardness, Luke nodded. “Yeah, okay. I guess I could use some time to figure out my next move.”

  Relieved, I stood, offering my hand. He took it.

  We walked silently to the end of the boardwalk, then up the gravel road to the Clarke summer home. We stepped inside, and Luke dropped his bags, taking in the sight of the neglected living room. I walked through it to the first bedroom on the right, and he followed behind.

  I opened the door to the plain bedroom that I’d shared with Alice. A pine bunk bed, a small bookshelf lined with classic literature, and an old dresser were seemingly paused in time. The beds weren’t made, and the dresser stood with drawers ajar. Luke instantly gravitated to the most interesting sight in the room—a half-finished collage that would have covered the whole wall, made from scraps of magazines and family pictures, the colors assembled to look like a heart.

  “Did you do this?”

  I cleared my throat, looking away from the painful reminder of carefree times. “Yeah. I used to love this kind of thing.”

  He turned to face me. “Used to?”

  I crossed my arms, trying to look unaffected. My watery eyes probably betrayed me. “I haven’t had time to get back into it.”

  He approached the collage in awe, grazing a hand along the photos that made up the heart shape. Most of them were vacation shots. Photos of my parents in their sailboat, shots of my brother and me in a kayak. Seeing it again, I realized how many photos starred me and Aiden.

  My eyes fell on a photo of us bouldering together at the base of the cliff. We both had long, black hair, tan skin, and dark eyes barely visible behind our big smiles. It was easy to see how people mistook us for twins.

  Luke pointed to the same photo. “Is this your brother?”

  There was something a little off in the way he asked, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. I brushed the feeling aside.

  “Yeah, that’s Aiden. He drowned a few years ago.”

  He looked at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

  I bit my cheek to fight back the wetness in my eyes. “Everyone says it was a freak accident. He probably grabbed a loose rock, fell and hit his head.”

  Not a single cell in my brain could believe that theory, but I didn’t say so. “Whatever it was, I should know. I was there that day, but I can’t remember anything between breakfast and seeing his body on the shore after they pulled him out of the lake. People say they heard me screaming. No one believed me when I said I couldn’t remember how it happened, least of all the police.”

  “So that’s why you came to Shy Harbor. You really don’t remember anything at all?”

  I peeled my eyes from the torturous collage to lean against the wall. “I remember seeing his body lying on the shoreline, but nothing before that. Sometimes, in the smallest fraction of a second, I feel like it all comes back to me. Then, as fast as it came, it’s gone. All that’s left are a few fractured pieces. I can see specks of golden light floating through the air, sense a feeling of terror in my gut, and hear this sad song that I don’t recognize. That’s it.”

  Luke seemed lost in thought. I don’t know how long the silence engulfed us before he spoke again. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  I nodded. “You and me both.”

  Feeling the smooth agate and chain in my pocket, I made my way to the doorway. “There are extra blankets in one of those drawers. I’ll leave you to get settled in.”

  He fell back onto the bottom bunk, hiding a yawn with one hand. “All right. I might try to get some shut-eye, then. That throwback Friends marathon last night didn’t do me any favors.”

  Smiling, I closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar. I’d almost forgotten how comfortable Luke made me feel. If only I could find someone like him in the real world.

  Okay, back to business. One glance down the hallway reminded me of my dreaded quest. Last door on the left. Damn, I was not ready for this.

  The floorboards creaked under my feet as I crept toward Aiden’s bedroom. I doubted even my mother had dared to open it before we left Shy Harbor for good. We were all too broken, even for the smallest reminders of him.

  I rested my hand on the doorknob and turned. It jammed a little, then opened
with a creak.

  Stale air wafted up in a cloud of dust. The sight struck my heart like a chord on Aiden’s beloved guitar, whose black case still rested in one corner.

  The single bed with blue covers wasn’t made. Song sheets lay scattered on the floor. A kitchen chair faced the computer desk, which held a summer’s worth of soda cans and other useless junk that no amount of mom’s pestering could force him to throw away.

  There was nothing unusual about it. It looked just like a typical teenager’s room—like Aiden’s room. Maybe C was wrong. Maybe there were no secrets, no clues. Just sad memories of happy times.

  I walked toward the guitar case, glancing at the old wardrobe to my right. The full-length mirrors on its door panels twisted my reflection into a frightening figure. I looked away, dragging my hand along the desk, my fingers leaving long trails in the dust.

  Kneeling, I unlatched the guitar case, taking a deep breath. I can’t say why I wanted to torture myself by looking at Aiden’s favorite companion. I just needed to. Not wanting to further delay the stab of pain, I swung the case open.

  Gone.

  I sat back, disbelieving. Aiden would never leave his instrument out of its case. If his finger calluses weren’t strumming chords, that’s where he laid it. Yet there I was, staring at an empty guitar case. My subconscious mind was clearly trying to tell me something. Who could have taken it? Mom, Dad, Alice? No, I was sure now that none of us touched his room since that day, and no one else had access to the house.

  I was about to close the case when a paper in the inner pocket caught my eye. I pulled out a scrap of ruled paper that had been folded so many times it nearly popped open in my hands. I unfolded it. A note was scrawled across the paper.

  “Bookstore at Noon.”

  I turned it over, but nothing else was written on the sheet. I came back to the note. The script was sloppy, rushed. The handwriting was unfamiliar.

  The crashing of heavy furniture falling over in the other room made me jump with a quick gasp. Damn it, Luke. He should know better than to snoop. Just as the thought crossed my mind, he appeared in the doorway, wearing a worried look.