by SL Naeole
I agreed. "I, for one, am definitely glad for that. You always seem to stink something fierce after football practice." I wrinkled my nose to emphasize the word "stink".
He smiled, his dark mood lifting ever so slightly. "Well, now that I'm here, I want to talk about what happened today-" he glanced at Robert again, shifting his gaze downward to our hands still intertwined, "-alone."
Robert's grip loosened, and he removed his hand from mine. He stood up, and sighed. "I think I know when my presence is no longer required." He turned to look at me, and smiled sadly. "I'll talk to you later, Grace."
I watched, dumbfounded as he quietly left. Why were things always so hot and cold when it came to his reactions? And he was telling me to not pull away? I shook my head, the disbelief and the slow growing burn of disappointment in my chest fighting for a place to take hold. I looked at Graham, hoping that something in his face would give me cause to stop it.
I saw the smug smile, and the thoughts that caused them written clearly on his face; the disbelief turned into anger in an instant.
"Why did you do that?" I demanded. "What gives you the right to act like that, to come into my house and make demands like that?"
The smug smile did not leave his face, but some of the gleam from his eyes did. "I'm your friend, Grace, and I care about what happens to you."
"Sure. Now. A few weeks ago, you couldn't have cared less about what happened to me."
"That's not true. It's just that-"
"-you cared more for Erica. She was definitely worth it, wasn't she?" I knew I shouldn't have said it, but I did, and I didn't regret it.
"She wasn't worth it. You know that," he replied softly. His head hung down with obvious regret.
My head bobbed once in agreement with him. "You threw our entire friendship away because of her, and she ended up hurting you because of me anyway. And, try as I might, I can't help but feel badly because of it. But that doesn't mean that I'm going to sit by and let you be rude to my friends, Graham."
"Didn't you hear me earlier today, Grace? Erica's got her sights set on getting him. She told me about their date the night you were hit by that car. She told me about her date with him last night. Don't you see, Grace? He's just as attracted to her as I was. The only difference between the two of us is that I care enough about you to stop seeing her."
"Wait. What was that about him going out on a date with her last night?" My heart sank so hard, so fast, I was sure that he'd heard it hit the ground. My doubts came, one by one, rushing around me like a mob shouting their thoughts.
"They went to the movies last night. She had told me that she had to prepare for today and that we couldn't go out, but she was out with him. And it's not the first time either. Don't you see? He's going to hurt you just like I did. I don't want you to go through that again, Grace."
I couldn't help the snort that came out of me. "You don't want me to go through that again? Convenient, isn't it? Being able to just fall into the role of savior and protector after being the villain? You know, Graham, all of this might actually mean something to me if you hadn't been the reason why I needed Robert's friendship in the first place." I stood up, struggling a bit with the rocking motion of the recliner, and glowered at him.
"And just so you know, he told me about that first date. Unlike you, he could see through Erica, and merely went out with her to find out what she had planned for me."
"Is that what he told you? And you believe him?" He grabbed my arm, his grip strong and possessive.
I yanked myself away from him angrily. "Yes, I believe him. He wouldn't lie to me, Graham." Of course he wouldn't lie to me. He couldn't. He had told me the truth, before I had even known that he was incapable of doing anything but. Whatever his reasons for seeing Erica again last night, they weren't because he was interested in her. All of the screaming doubts quieted and left me, leaving behind them a void that longed to be filled and everything seemed to shift inside of me.
I had admitted to myself that I wanted Robert in my life no matter what, in any capacity, but I had let the bitter doubts to remain, allowed them to rush out at the slightest provocation. But now I realized--understood really--that even though he was an angel, he wasn't perfect, and I had been measuring myself against that false perfection.
I looked at Graham, and I couldn't be mad at him. If he hadn't been so cruel to me, hadn't destroyed any and all hope I had had in him loving me the way that I loved him, I wouldn't have been able to appreciate the gift that was Robert.
But what of the love I had for Graham? For so long I had thought that what I felt was the pure emotion of being in love; I had hoped that what he felt for me was the same. Not only had he not been willing to return my affections, he had also alienated me from his life so completely, he had sent my heart spiraling to the ground, mortally wounding it...or so I thought.
Instead, it crashed right through the earth, only to emerge on the other side, stronger, vibrant, although disguised in many layers of self-doubt, and pessimism. His hurtful actions had saved me from spending a lifetime of not seeing what it was that I deserved.
"Thank you, Graham." I hugged him, so truly grateful for the gift he had unwittingly given me by breaking my heart.
"Huh? For what?" His voice sounded bewildered, but his arms wrapped around me, squeezing me tight.
I pulled away slightly to look up into his face. "For being my friend. For all the years of being my friend, and for the moments when you weren't. For caring about me, for being here now, with love in your heart, and for having concern about mine. You've helped me see things in a new light, Graham." I stood up on the tips of my toes and pressed my lips against his cheek. "I couldn't ask for a better friend."
"Uh...you're welcome?" Graham snorted at his own confusion, but sobered up quickly, his voice suddenly somber. "I am your friend, Grace. I regret every moment that I wasn't. I know that what I did...and what I didn't do isn't what a friend would've done, and I'm never going to forgive myself for that. I never betrayed your trust though, Grace. I never told Erica a single secret that you shared with me...and what I did tell her was stupid...I'm gonna try to make it up to you, Grace--forever it that's what it takes."
"I know, Graham. I know. And as my friend, please, I want you to promise me that you'll trust my judgment."
He pulled away, understanding what I was asking. Judging by the way his body stiffened, he didn't like it. "Graham, I don't want to hear your complaints. I just want your friendship and your trust here. I think after everything that's happened between us, I deserve to have that."
"You have my friendship, Grace, but I have to question your judgment. You trusted me and I crushed you, big time. You know this Robert guy for just a few weeks and you're ready to trust him the same way you did me. That scares me, Grace."
I sighed, and pulled Graham close again. "Please. Please, trust me, Graham. He's different. If I'm wrong, you have free reign to totally rub it in. I'll even let you do it with your lucky gym shorts on."
I felt his body shake with amusement. "I think that's a pretty good offer." He pulled away again, but this time, he was smiling. "Just give me fair warning though, when he screws up-"
"If," I interjected.
"Okay, if he screws up. I want enough time to practice my rubbing in." He winked, and then pulled me back into a very strong embrace.
Graham's return into my life was now complete. He'd shifted roles a bit, but his fit was even tighter and more perfect than it had been before. I was happy.
MIST
Happy was a relative thing. Graham had left after dinner, as usual, stopping only to ask me if I wanted to visit the cemetery with him on Saturday.
One of the few things that we had in common which bonded us closer than most friends was the fact that we had both lost someone we loved very much; while I'd visit mom's grave, he'd visit the grave of his grandmother who had died just a few short weeks before the car accident that had killed my mom.
I had told him that I'd call him when I w
oke up and let him know what my plans were. It was enough for him and he said he'd try to wake up early so that he'd be the one to answer the phone. I had to admit that I was definitely enjoying this new fit.
After I had taken a shower and said my goodnights to Dad and Janice downstairs, I climbed back up, not bothering with the pretense of needing the crutches, and prepared to go to bed. The events of the day had finally begun to weigh down on me and I felt emotionally and physically exhausted. The lure of the seductive mistress called sleep was so tempting, even the blatantly coordinated bedding that Janice had somehow managed to dress my bed and pillows in wasn't enough to keep me from collapsing in a heap atop it.
It seemed, though, that as soon as my eyes had shut, the alarm on my dresser was announcing the start of another day. Those nights were always the worst to wake up from. No dreams, and yet...no rest. I felt like a zombie who hadn't had its fill of internal organs.
I scooted on my butt to the foot of my bed and reached for the alarm clock. My fingers' memory knew exactly where to push to turn the beeping off, and the silence that followed was heavenly. I stretched my arms out, a yawn breaking free and pulling out the tail end of the sleep that had yet to be fulfilled.
As I tried to open my eyes to the blurry shape that was my clock, my gaze instead focused on an object that was sitting beside it that I knew had not been there when I went to bed. It was a square vase with a single flower in it. I didn't know what type of flower it was since it wasn't a rose or a daffodil, the only two flowers I could recognize on sight.
It had five angular petals, their edges wavy, like curled ribbon. The base of each petal was a soft white, with a heart of deep pink running down the center towards each tip. The pink looked freckled with the same soft shade of white, as well as creams and light browns, and the center of the blossom held several stem-like projections that contained lumpy shaped objects covered in yellow spheres of what I could only guess to be pollen.
It looked like a star; a freckled, pink and white star. Underneath the vase was a small envelope. Quickly, with nervous fingers I reached for it, plying my fingernail beneath the edge of the opening and pulling out the tiny card that lay within.
The card held the familiar handwriting that was far too beautiful to really come from anything other than something supernatural and divine. I touched the scrolled letters.
"A gift to your mother, because without her, you would not exist in this world. With great affection, your very good friend."
"Cheater," I muttered, and smiled. He wanted me to place the flower on mom's grave. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me, and I felt warmth rush to my cheeks, a blush caused by no one, seen by no one, and yet embarrassing all the same. I pressed my hands to my cheeks, as though to push the blood back down, and sighed. "Silly."
I put the card back in the envelope and placed it on the dresser. I had never brought flowers to mom's grave before, and I couldn't think of a reason why. Today would be the first time, and the fact that he'd been the one to give me cause enough to do it was strangely comforting.
I set that thought aside while I looked at my window. It wasn't open. I walked over to it, and tried to lift it up, but saw the lock was still in place. "I wonder how he did that." Surely he didn't come in through the front door? I remembered the vision Robert had shown me of him "calling" my pencil over to him. Could he have done that? Simply "told" my window to unlock and open?
I sat back down on the bed, and scooted across to the other side where the nightstand stood, a relic from Dad's days as a bachelor. I pulled open the large drawer and found the item in there that had seen minimal use since it was first brought in, its necessity viewed only by a hopeful father who had thought I'd have girlfriends calling at all hours, instead of the boy next door looking for someone to challenge to a burping contest.
I pulled the phone out of the drawer, and placed it in my lap. It was an old, rectangular corded model with large, backlit buttons on the receiver. I think at one point it had been white, but with time and age, it had turned into a muted yellowish gray; it looked sickly.
I picked up the receiver and started to dial...what? I didn't know Robert's phone number. I didn't even know if he had a phone. Or a house for that matter. Surely he must have some place he went to, right?
I placed the receiver back on the cradle and stared at the phone. How could I not know what his phone number was, and yet know all of this other information about him that was so personal and private? It seemed so lopsided; I couldn't do anything but sit and frown at my total ignorance.
Suddenly a thought popped into my head that seemed so ridiculously simple, I felt like a total idiot for about three seconds. Of course! I may not have a phone number to reach him, but I had something better. I had Lark!
I focused on the single thought of Lark's name. Her ability to hear any thought, see any vision from unlimited distances was my key to getting through to Robert. I concentrated on getting her to hear me through the countless voices I was sure she was currently listening to. I felt like a statue, I was so still, but my mind was in motion, racing through endless nothing in hopes that somewhere, I'd find what I was searching for.
It wasn't long before I heard her voice in my head, like a song that had been written just for me. I'm glad you've finally figured out how to do it. I was getting close to thinking you were simple or something.
I sighed in relief. It had worked! Lark! It worked! Wow, this is amazing!
Yes. Amazing. Great. You're looking for my brother I take it?
Ridiculously, I nodded my head. I realized that I don't have a phone number to reach him. Or an address. I-I wasn't sure if you guys actually had a place to live or...
I could hear the tone in her melody change. It lowered, the mood somewhat darker. Or what? Did you think we were homeless, Grace? Or that we lived on some fluffy white cloud while playing harps and eating cream cheese? I'm sorry if my brother was rude in not giving you his number or bringing you to our home, but don't assume that simply because you don't see it, it doesn't exist. Especially knowing now what walks among you.
The blush of embarrassment that crept across my face seemed to be screaming "I told you so!" because Lark did something that sounded a lot like laughter.
I'll tell Robert of your concerns--he'll be there in a minute or two. Open your window.
My eyes widened at her instructions. Did the necessity of unlocking my window mean that Robert actually had come through the front door while everyone was asleep? I got off of the bed quickly and did as I was instructed, not knowing whether I should lift it up. I sat back on the edge of the bed facing the window, and waited. I was thankful that the alarm clock on my dresser was a digital one so that I wouldn't have to hear the tick-tick of time creeping by while I waited.
By the time I started getting anxious and contemplated counting by Mississippis, I noticed the shadow blocking out the soft morning glow. It looked like a storm cloud had decided to take shape right outside of my window, and I frantically worked to raise the glass wall, hoping none of the neighbors would see, all the while specks of gray haze were flowing through the cracks between the window and the frame.
As I struggled to raise the window, the wall of gray cloud slowly entered my room, flowing all around like a fog, wrapping itself around the bed, the dresser, sliding across the walls, before enveloping me in a sweet mist. I could do nothing; I was so in awe of what I was witnessing--I didn't even breathe. The vapor began to solidify around me, slowly taking shape, curls of gray smoke turning into arms that were folded across my back, stray wisps that became hair of jet, and two liquid silver dew drops became the eyes that I could always see, even when my own were closed.
"You called?" he asked silkily.
I sputtered out an incoherent response and he laughed. Rather than attempt to answer him again, I placed my head against his shoulder and nodded, embarrassed and yet thankful. He could disappear into mist, he could fly, he could read minds. What was it tha
t he couldn't do?
"I can't sneak into houses with vases and flowers." He laughed softly, pulling away from me and motioned with his head to the blossom that seemed to stand out on my bare dresser. "Do you like it?"
"Y-yes. It's beautiful. But how did you get it in here?"
"Well, your window was open last night. I simply locked it on my way out. I thought it was best."
"You locked it? Why?"
"So that once I was gone, I wouldn't be tempted to come back in. It was very difficult to leave; you looked so peaceful in your sleep, and it felt very comforting to see that. I didn't want to disturb you with my questions."
"You have questions?" I was shocked. He could read my mind. What would he need to ask me questions for?
"Grace, several times yesterday, your mind--it felt like you had turned your entire brain off--all I could hear were my own thoughts echoing around in there, as though I had walked into an empty hallway." He had that familiar pucker between his brows, the one that appeared when he was concerned about something.
"Really?" I stood there with my mouth open, probably looking like a paralyzed goldfish. "I didn't do anything different. At least, I don't think I did."
"Of course you didn't. You didn't realize any of it. You kept talking and going on about things, but when your mind would blink out, it felt very...odd. Like when a television loses audio feed, but the video is still going."
I didn't see what I had done differently, or what could have triggered the--for lack of a better term--blackouts that he'd had with my mind. "Do you have an idea why?"
"I have a few ideas, but all of my questions really have nothing to do with that."
"Oh. Well, what questions do you have for me, then?"
"Well, first, I would like to know what you are doing this evening."
"I don't know. I've never really planned my days out. No real social life, you know."
He smiled. "Well-" he pulled me to sit on the edge of the bed "-I was thinking that perhaps you would like to come with me to visit a friend of mine."