Trance

by Linda Gerber

  I took his hand.

  He finally raised his eyes to mine. “I saw you,” he said, “at the mall. And when I heard about the accident . . .”

  “Nick . . .”

  “If I’d have known what would happen . . .”

  I swallowed. How many times had I said that to myself? “It wasn’t your fault.”

  He nodded and I wasn’t sure if he was agreeing or disagreeing with me. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

  I squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

  We walked out to the mall parking lot, talking about nothing in particular. I could almost see the weight of the guilt Nick had been carrying around slowly ease off his shoulders. I could absolutely feel the feelings of inadequacy slough off mine. By the time we said good-bye, I was beginning to feel like I could move mountains.

  I had never known such a feeling of control. I could do anything! I was magical, powerful.

  I turned toward home and had just crossed the street when I heard Jake’s bike rumbling up behind me. He pulled up to the curb and stopped, engine idling.

  “You’re walking?” he shouted over the noise.

  “Missed the bus,” I yelled.

  “Where’s your friend?”

  I stepped closer so I could hear him. “Michelle? Hot study date.”

  He shook his head. “No. Your other friend.”

  I realized he must have seen Nick and me together. “He’s gone.”

  “Lovers’ spat?”

  I looked to see if he was joking, but his face looked completely serious. “That’s not . . . he’s not . . .”

  He couldn’t hold back the smile any longer. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride. If you want.”

  I did want. I wanted in a big way. And for once, now that I felt like I was in control, I thought I wouldn’t have to worry. “Thanks.”

  He handed me a helmet and I put it on—correctly this time. I climbed onto the seat behind him and took a deep breath, leaning in close, wrapping my arms around him. This time it felt comfortable. This time it felt right.

  We didn’t make it far. By the time we reached the tree-lined streets off the main drag, his Indian started sputtering. A block later it backfired, then growled, then died. He steered the bike to the side of the road and we rolled to a stop.

  “I don’t believe it,” he muttered.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have no idea. I’d have to look at it in the light.”

  We climbed off the motorcycle and for a moment Jake just stood there with his arms folded across his chest, staring down the Indian like it had betrayed him.

  “I’m sorry,” I offered.

  He turned to me. “What? No, I’m sorry. And embarrassed.”

  I laughed. “You don’t have to be embarrassed around me.”

  “But I am just the same.” He locked the helmets into the seat compartment. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said. “It’s not that far.”

  “I don’t have to do a lot of things.” He bowed low and swept his arm in the direction we should walk. “Shall we?”

  “What about your motorcycle?”

  “I’ll come back and get it. No big deal.”

  “What are you going to do, roll it home?”

  “If I have to.” He took my elbow and dragged me along for a few steps before he let go. “I’ve walked it home from a lot farther than this.”

  “Really. Where do you live?”

  “Not too far. Over on Hague.”

  I stopped walking. “Hague? That’s clear on the other side of town.”

  He shrugged and pulled me forward again. “Gina did that number thing for me, you know. She said I was powerful, so I just think I should warn you. It’s futile to resist.”

  I laughed at that, but wondered if Gina had also told him that our numbers were the same.

  “Now you know something about me,” he said. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

  It shouldn’t have been so hard to think of something, but I never talked about myself; I had too many secrets. I couldn’t think of anything about me that I could talk about. “Can I make up something?”

  “Nothing but the truth,” he said, and held up three fingers in a kind of salute.

  “What’s that?” I giggled. “The Spock Pledge?”

  He shook his head sadly. “You lose serious geek points for that. No, it was not the Vulcan salute. It was the Boy Scout sign.”

  I laughed even more. “You were a Boy Scout?”

  “Nice try. You already got one on me. You have to tell me something about yourself now. Truthfully.”

  I kicked at the gravel on the street and tried to think of something real that would keep things light. It was too hard. “I have one sister and no pets” was all I could come up with.

  “Weak,” he said. “But I’ll accept it. And yes, I was in the Boy Scouts, but that was a long time ago. Your turn.”

  “Uh, who decided we were going to play this game?”

  He bumped my arm with his. “You seem to be forgetting I’m powerful. No questions.”

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath. “I can’t smell skunk. I’m not a smeller. We did one of those PTC paper tests in science once and I’m not a taster, either.”

  “I don’t think,” he said, “that you’re serious about engaging in this conversation.”

  I laughed. “And I think your power has gone to your head.”

  “Mysterious and stubborn. I like it.”

  “You’re kidding me. Gina told you I was mysterious?”

  He gave me a weird look. “Gina?”

  “Yeah, the numerology thing. She said I was mysterious. . . .” My voice trailed off and I felt really stupid.

  Jake laughed. “So I was right, only I was talking about your evasive answers.”

  I was glad it was dark so he couldn’t tell how red my face was getting. “Oh.”

  “Sorry to tell you,” he said, “but powerful trumps mysterious.”

  “No problem. I happen to be powerful and mysterious.”

  We stepped out from under the tree branches and Jake immediately looked up. “Look,” he said, and pointed to the sky.

  For the first time in weeks, the sky was completely clear. We had a perfect view of the stars. Jake put one hand on my shoulder and turned me slightly toward him. I held my breath in anticipation.

  “See that one over there?” He pointed skyward again. “Three stars in a row? That’s Orion’s belt.”

  I looked up at him and grinned. “Boy Scouts?”

  He shrugged. “It’s the only constellation I learned. I was trying to impress you.”

  “Aw, that’s—”

  When I felt the tremor, I wasn’t sure what it was. I froze for an instant until I could feel it centering at the back of my head, humming, buzzing. The corners of my vision dimmed like a fading photograph. I drew in a quick breath. Not again.

  All the control and confidence and invincibility I’d been feeling disappeared in an instant. I was still me. Small. Helpless. Powerless against the trances.

  I backed away from Jake. I shouldn’t have come with him. I couldn’t let him see.

  “Everything okay?” he said.

  Not even close. It didn’t make any sense. The visions always came with the writing and I wasn’t carrying anything to write with. Maybe that’s why my head was buzzing like a chain saw, but I wasn’t getting sucked in. Yet. Or maybe I had changed the rules when I called on the latest trance. Whatever the case, I had to get away. Right now.

  “I can run home from here,” I said. “But thanks for the escort.”

  He had a confused look on his face, like someone had snuck up and smacked him on the back of the head. “But—”

  “It’s just . . . You’ve got a long way to push that bike and—”

  “Did I miss something?”

  “No. No. I . . . I’ll see you around.” I spun around and ran before he could say anything
more.

  By the time I got home, my heart was banging in my chest like it was trapped and wanted out. I let myself into the house and immediately felt the painful squeeze when I looked at my mom’s parlor. I stumbled down the hallway, grateful for once that I was alone.

  In the kitchen, I turned my face to the ceiling. “What do you want from me?” I cried.

  Upending my backpack on the kitchen table, I grabbed my notebook and pencil once more. “You want me to write? I’ll write! Just tell me what I’m supposed to do!”

  The next morning I woke to the chime of the clock in the hallway. One, two, three . . . I had fallen asleep, slumped in a chair at the kitchen table. Four, five . . . The vibration in my head had never resulted in a trance, no matter how I had yelled and pleaded and tried to force it to come. So much for control. Six.

  I bolted up, suddenly wide awake. Six o’clock! Michelle would be here any minute. I jumped to my feet, adrenaline pumping, before I remembered that she wouldn’t be running with me that morning. She was on her way to the track meet—the meet I should have been going to.

  I slogged back to my room and crawled into my bed. I may as well get used to staying home, I grumbled. I didn’t know how I was going to get a doctor’s note to get back in the game. Would they request any kind of blood or urine tests for a health clearance? Would the pills I had taken the other day show up? If so, my season would be over, and possibly my career.

  The whole thing was so depressing, I pulled the covers over my head and went back to sleep.

  The sun was shining brightly through my window when my ringing cell phone woke me again. I dragged my backpack into the bed with me and fumbled around inside until I found the phone. I checked the screen to see who it was and, for an instant, I was disoriented again. Carole. Wait. Was I late for work? But no, I wasn’t scheduled; I was supposed to be at the track meet. “Hello?”

  “Oh, Ashlyn! Thank heavens you answered! Danae called in sick just five minutes ago and here we are two weeks before Easter and the mall will be packed and I need someone to fill in for her.” She paused for a breath. “Can you come in? Could you take the afternoon shift, say, one to eight?”

  I toyed with the strap of my backpack. I really wasn’t in the mood to deal with the craziness of ShutterBugz. But I didn’t want to be alone, either. And I did need the money. The afternoon shift probably wouldn’t be too bad; most of the rush was typically in the morning. Besides, now that I wasn’t going to be at the meet, I’d have nothing to do all day. Dad was still gone and the house would be sad and empty. “Sure,” I said. “I can be there.”

  “Oh, thank you!” she gushed. “You’re the best!” She gave me a long list of instructions—as if I had never worked a Saturday before—and rang off.

  I flopped back against my pillow and stared at the ceiling. Before I even wondered who I would be paired with for the day, my mind went to Jake. Would he be working, too? I hoped he would, but then I hoped he wouldn’t. How was I going to face him? How would I explain why I kept running away?

  I took my running gear with me to work. Since I had been lazy and hadn’t run that morning, and since Michelle and I never ran on Sundays, I figured I should at least get the exercise of running home from the mall. On top of everything else, I didn’t want to feel like a slug.

  When I got to the mall, I listened for the piano music, but all I could hear was the canned stuff they played over the intercom. I hoped maybe I’d catch a glimpse of Jake at the baby grand, but the piano bench in the window of Kinnear Music was empty.

  Carole waved to me when she saw me coming. “Oh, there you are! Gina thought you might be late, but I said to her, I said, ‘Ashlyn was always on time at Polaris,’ and here you are!”

  Her hot pink mouth curved into a self-satisfied smile. Carole told me once how her sister had insisted that the pink colors Carole loved so much clashed with her red hair. So I wear pink all the time, just to bug her, she said. If she wasn’t wearing pink shoes, she was wearing a pink scarf, a pink jacket, or a pink shirt. One time, much to everyone’s dismay, she even wore pink jeans to the ShutterBugz kiosk at Polaris.

  Gina poked her head out from behind the partition. “Finally!” she said. “I’m about to explode.”

  I dropped my backpack behind the counter. “I’m five minutes early,” I told her, but she didn’t answer. She just rushed off toward the food court.

  Carole clucked, watching her go. “I do hope that baby comes soon. There’s no living with her some days.” She glanced back at me over her shoulder. “I’m glad you get along with her at least. She’s a little too intense for some people.”

  I shrugged and slipped on my apron. “She’s just . . . Gina.”

  Carole chuckled. “Well said.”

  I flushed, remembering how Jake had said it first. My gaze immediately snapped to Kinnear Music, but I still saw no sign of him. It was probably just as well. As much as I wanted to explain the night before, what was I supposed to say? It would be best for both of us if I just left him alone.

  “. . . and then after I go it’ll be just you and Gina for the rest of the day, okay?” Carole was looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer, I realized.

  “Uh, sure,” I said, hoping I hadn’t just agreed to work for free or something like that.

  That seemed to satisfy Carole. She straightened the pencil can and then continued her monologue, tugging on one of her short red curls. “I hate to schedule her for so many hours, but she needs the money, poor thing. Such a difficult situation.”

  I finished tying my apron strings and glanced up. “Situation?” The question slipped out before I could stop myself. I admit to being curious, but I also figured that whatever Gina’s story was, it was hers to tell me. I’d already opened the door, though, and Carole danced right through it.

  She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Her husband’s family. Nasty people. She’s staying with them while her husband’s deployed.” She made a sour face. “They think she’s not good enough for them because her people don’t have money. And . . . well, you know, she had to get married. But the way they treat her! As if she was one of those girls who ‘traps’ rich boys by getting themselves pregnant. Now I ask you, how does a girl get herself pregnant?”

  She paused as if she really wanted me to answer that question.

  “Well, I told her,” she continued, “I said, ‘Gina, you can come live with me until Danny gets home.’ That’s her husband, Daniel, but I call him Danny, of course.”

  “Of course,” I murmured. I knew I should stop her, that I only encouraged her by listening.

  “But Gina, she says she needs to try and get along with them. For Danny. Did you know he won’t be here when the baby comes? Can’t get leave. And those people—” She shook her head, curls quivering. “I can’t imagine what good they’ll be to her. But you never hear her talk about them. Honestly, Ashlyn, she’s so outspoken about everything else, I don’t know how she keeps it all inside, I just don’t. Now, come take a look at the new tracking system.”

  By the time Gina returned from lunch, Carole had reviewed with me, three times, how to track the digital portrait files—not exactly new since I’d been doing it since my days at Polaris.

  The moment Gina slid her purse back under the counter, Carole was in motion, straightening the pencils, rearranging the order forms on the clipboard, picking up her things. “All right, then, Ashlyn is all set to help you out, hon. You let me know if you need me to come back in.”

  Gina took Carole by her pink shoulders and turned her around. “Get out of here, already. Go.”

  “What did I tell you?” Carole said, chuckling. “No living with her.” And with that, she was finally gone.

  “Whew.” Gina backed to the stool and sat down. “That woman is exhausting! Good heart, but exhausting.”

  I murmured my agreement.

  “So what did you two talk about while I was gone?”

  My face suddenly felt cold. “Oh. Nothing. I me
an . . .”

  She pushed her curtain of dark hair over her shoulder. “It’s okay. I know Carole. She can’t keep her mouth shut sometimes. So, what’d she tell you? About my awful in-laws?”

  I just shrugged, trying not to think about all the things Carole had said.

  “They’re not so bad.” Gina’s hands went to her belly and she rubbed it absently. “Nope. I lied. They suck.”

  “Why do you live with them, then?” I blurted.

  She snorted a laugh. “Oh, so you were talking about me. My family is . . . kind of a mess, so when Daniel deployed, he thought I should live with his family while he was gone so they could ‘take care of me.’ ”

  “But if you don’t like them—”

  “I never said that.” Her face grew serious. “Do I like living with Daniel’s family? No. Would I ever tell him that? No. I know I’m all about honesty and saying what I think, but sometimes people are more important than the truth.”

  15

  We probably did about five or six sittings that afternoon, but only one stuck out in my mind—two little girls who could have passed for twins, they looked so much alike.

  “No, just sisters,” the mother assured me. Just sisters.

  They were probably the best-behaved kids we’d had in there all week. Both girls sat still, kept their hands where I placed them, and looked up innocently where I told them to look. But the mother kept calling out directions anyway.

  “Sit up straight, Olivia! Straight, like we practiced. No. Not like that. Abby, what did we say about smiling? Shoulders back. Chin up.”

  It made me sad to watch, because both of those little girls were perfect, but their mom couldn’t see it. She must have had some picture in her mind of what the perfect portrait should look like, and it didn’t matter how well her daughters cooperated or how many other great shots we got, she wasn’t satisfied because it wasn’t what she had in mind. But the saddest part was watching the faces of the girls as they tried desperately to please their mother, only to fall short again and again.