Something Of A Kind

by Wheeler, Miranda

  Even snow-blind with the blackness of an impending end, constantly coming to terms and falling to pieces again, Aly never fathomed missing anyone so much. It never came close to the clenching desire for a father when she was a child, or even the terrible ache she had when her day with Noah no longer made her smile, but instead only want him more, unable to wait for the sun to rise.

  Vanessa wouldn’t see her dreams and she wouldn’t see Aly’s. Her mother wouldn’t be there when Noah eventually either broke Aly’s heart or offered vows, and she wasn’t there to offer advice or suggest the perfect words to fix everything and make her laugh again.

  Mom’s gone. She always will be. A wave of agony clenching in her chest, Aly put it back, propped on her bedside table. After a moment, she pushed the face down. Glancing at the boxy alarm clock she always hated, the angry red blinking of 2:35 AM felt like scorn.

  Exhaustion heavy in her limbs, she rolled onto her side, in fetal position. The exposed window bathed the room in blue moonlight. Stars, however untouchable, glistened with distinction: the sun thieves, and the thousand souls around them, dancing in place, breathed across the sky.

  They were magnified, almost beneath a lens, compared to nights in the middle of Kingsley’s city. Sleeping in Ashland, lying in bed every night felt like a camping trip, like the sunroof after late night car trips, like the window from that one summer in a cabin on Long Lake. Aly didn’t know which star was brightest, but she knew who it belonged to.

  She didn’t want to fall asleep. Time was too precious, life too short. She found the most comfort in the stories, a hope of heaven, of rebirth, of the new life she always swore she wanted. Like a lightning strike from divinity, Noah sowed a rift in the relentless burden of six unendurable months. Noah gave her the sun thieves.

  She wanted to get up and run to him then, falling into his embrace so seamlessly. Maybe fate would put him outside, standing beneath the stars in Ashland, the town without streetlights.

  But as much as she wanted to break down his door and offer a thousand apologies, she knew everything was too fast, too little time to be so engrossed. As much as she wanted to bother him, pull him away from the demands of his family, she knew that it was possible Lee was right. It was possible she belonged on the outside– outside of Noah, outside of Ashland, and outside of Alaska.

  Greg Glass, in his predictable narcissism, was dishonest, a liar, not a father. As always, Aly couldn’t deal with it, and refused to accept it. Noah was hurt because she demanded he help her prove the impossible, some unfathomable something of a kind, to Greg, a heart to hardened to hear anyone but himself. She begged him to humor her. She pushed something too new and too good way too far. It shouldn’t be such a shock that Lee’s outburst was so viciously honest.

  Did he mean it? Could she not see Noah? If she ignored it, would Noah even want to see her? Guilty and feeling selfish, Aly swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut. Fear flooded her veins, like blackness and grief, that someone was talking sense somewhere and Noah would see it first. He was worth more than a temporary placement court-ordered into his little town, diving into his life with an uproar, changing his world unapologetically. Aly feared he would leave to make peace with his father, or she would have to.

  I’d do it for him.

  Maybe Noah never broke the frame. Maybe he just freed the picture.

  CHAPTER 22 | NOAH Sarah came in before dawn with a neon bottle covered with directions, explaining that she’d promised to return the favor. After they bickered about her being out of her neck brace, she reminded him he’d be out of work and for three weeks. Brief explanations and apologies were offered, along with a mutual covenant of, “Let’s not talk about it.”

  He didn’t mention Lee’s possibly made -up revelation, especially when puzzle pieces infuriatingly pressed together in the few moments before he passed out the night before, dead until dawn. Sarah left her runaway attempt at a forced shrug and, “a momentary breakdown that will not be repeated or again attempted.” He knew they’d both end up prying the wounds open later.

  He’d managed a half -in-half-out shower with an awkward shave. Dressed in a uniform button-up, half ripped and makeshift muscleshirt and shorts, the morning started with an edge of bad coffee batch and more confusion than when he’d fallen asleep. It wasn’t until he realized he would barely be able to pull his acoustic from the case that it occurred to him he wouldn’t be playing anytime soon. With the testiness of the old ladder, the widow’s walk would be an off-limits retreat for a while.

  Sitting at the booth with his head in his free hand, Noah wondered how he managed to get out of bed, or why he bothered. Feeling part handicapped and part inhuman, all he really wanted at the moment was to drive to Aly’s.

  Although the thought had slammed through his head for the fourth or fifth time, it still felt like a perfectly timed movie scene when Greg Glass’s SUV pulled into the spot beside his window. She shuffled to fill her arms with the random possessions she carried. Glancing up, she dropped some in her lap to smile and wave. He laughed as she scrambled to re-gather, eventually collecting herself and sliding out the door with her usual grace.

  Parting the heavy doors with an encouraging smile, he made out the shapes of filled wrappers and beverages in her collection. Following his gaze, Aly explained, “So, I know this is a diner, best- breakfast-intown establishment and all… but I was thinking we should do breakfast.”

  He laughed, straightening. “On the docks?”

  “Perfection,” Aly grinned. “I’d ask for a hand, but it seems you’re already one short.” He stood, ducking behind the counter to grab a paper bag and a cardboard holder. She dropped the sandwiches in, wedging what smelled like liquid divinity in a cup into each hole. Managing to balance in a one-elbow cradle, she edged her purse on one shoulder. After getting the door, he offered an arm and inquired, “Walk with me?”

  “Always,” she promised. As they made their way to the docks, he debated whether to bring up the issues wracking his brain senseless. Sitting on the very end of the pier, they sat, and she offered a mass of sandwiches, confessing, “I had no idea what to grab. I didn’t sleep last night and ended up driving until I found this little drivethrough place.”

  He nodded, picking randomly. Following a silence as she sipped her coffee, his brow knitted. As thoughts tumbled through his head, Lee’s empty threats and Mary-Agnes refusing to meet his gaze earlier, he blurted, “Aly, when your mom died… how did you… how did you deal with something like that?”

  She froze, taken aback. After a moment, her shoulders relaxed. Her words careful, she explained, “I don’t think you can really deal with something like that. You just take it one day at a time. I was really angry and really confused for a while. I eventually loosened up, and leaned really hard on my family. I tried not to think about it, like reading and watching lame movies until I kind of had to address it. When I needed to handle it on my own, I tried to find things that I was passionate about and poured all my… well, my everything into it. That painting was one of a hundred drafts. Painted, sketched… Then I realized I couldn’t let it carve out the inside of me forever, and no matter how much it hurt, I needed to focus on the life ahead of me, rearranging plans, preparing myself to live with Greg. I needed to function, so I woke up in pieces. I don’t know. I knew for a long time that she was dying though, before it happened. Maybe that changes things. Maybe it’s different for everybody.”

  He absorbed her words, hoping they could clarify, illuminate the alleys so he didn’t have to guide himself by touching the walls anymore. The stars weren’t aligning, no pieces falling into place. Whatever he was looking for didn’t click.

  Is Lee crazy? Is the liquor eating his brain? He seemed sober; though it’s possible he’d been drinking. As the years went on, it took higher intakes to get him to whatever level he sought. It had gotten to the point where some people didn’t notice. Was it possible he was telling the truth? Lee had always said he didn’t see Maria until she showed
up around Sarah’s birth – and the way he made it sound, it meant Sarah was hers too. Lee and Mary-Agnes were in their sixties, always claiming Sarah and Noah were change-of-life babies, considering his youngest brother was thirteen when he was born. Did his biological mother drop them off as infants, three and a half years apart?

  Did they really lie for so long? No… nothing here is making sense.

  “How did you deal with Greg?” She sighed. “I didn’t. Even yesterday, we were fighting. At the clinic, when he got home that night. He’s crazy – it’s like he thinks my mother was secretly obsessed with him and I’m doing her bidding according to my apparent direct line to the afterlife. Sometimes he forgets she’s dead. And to be frank, he seriously won’t shut up. Everything I do ticks him off. First of all, he still doesn’t believe me – and he’s as convinced of conspiracy as ever. He doesn’t want me anywhere near you, or his job, or him in general. He’s listing so many don’ts, I can’t figure out what he wants.”

  He groaned, “That’s just ridiculous.” Aly nodded, agreeing, “I know. I really think the only person who can change here is me. All I know is, there’s nothing I can do that makes him happy. So I’m going to let him get angry until he either ships me home or gives up.”

  Anger clenched in his face, a sudden clarity in his befuddlement.

  Why does this guy have to put her through so much crap? She’s got enough to deal with.

  “Aly, just so you know, my offer still stands,” he added. “He and I can have a, uh, talk. Or I can kill him.”

  “My response still stands.” She laughed, crossing her ankles. “It’s not necessary. I’d rather let him make himself miserable.” “Yeah,” Noah murmured, staring hard at the surf. Imagining Tony getting just a few inches past the guardrail, he was filled with repugnance. Shaking it off, he found himself talking, unsure of the words coming out of his mouth. “…and he went on saying my mother was dead. When I asked him what he was talking about, because I was totally freaked something happened to Mary-Agnes, he just accused me of lying about knowing something. Then he kind of admitted that I wasn’t his kid and neither was Sarah. He said my aunt Maria is my mother and if I continue on this path I’m taking, I’m going to end up dead like she did.”

  Aly listened intently, occasionally gasping or covering her mouth. Frozen with shock, she waited to ensure he was finished speaking before blurting, “That’s… Noah if I can offer… if I can help at all, I promise I… I just…” She paused; face twisting as though she arranged her thoughts. She sat her coffee down at her side and grabbed his hand, continuing, “I know this probably doesn’t mean anything, but I’m here for you. If you need anything…”

  “It means everything, Aly,” he corrected, squeezing her hand. He realized his sandwich was still untouched, sitting on the wrapper in his lap. Chewing his cheek, he added, “It’s just… I’m kind of mad about it. It’s like I’m filled with all this rage, but it doesn’t really feel like anything’s changed even though everything has. I keep waiting for someone to say that’s it’s a joke or Lee’s lost it but no one’s denying anything because they can’t even talk to me. I’m trying how to remember how to feel real.” Glancing sideways, “And I’m really sorry.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

  He began, “About my dad-”

  Aly blinked. “Wait. He told you what he said?”

  “What? Wait, what did he say?”

  She shook her head, waving it off. “Never mind. I miss understood you.”

  “Aly-”

  “It’s not important. What were you talking about?”

  “I meant him causing issues with your dad,” he finished, undeterred. “Aly, what did he say?” “Noah…” she hesitated, biting her lip. Almost inaudibly, she said, “Noah, if it’s going to resolve issues with your father, or well, your uncle, I guess? If it will make things better foryou…”

  He frowned. “Aly, what are you talking about?”

  “…I’m willing to… if it helps, I can leave. Like, leave you alone.” Fear clenched in his gut, a shocking amount of panic flooding through his stomach. “Why would think that would make anything better?”

  “Lee just…” she sighed, noting the insistence in his expression. “I think he was just being… weird. He said I belong on the outside, and I should stay away from you.”

  “He what?”

  She added quickly, “I think he was just upset because you got hurt.” “It's t he damn legend. It's all hyped up from the old yore lore and all that crap. I've taken worse than this. He’s dealt worse than this. He didn’t have-"

  “Noah,” she whispered, staring at her feet as they extended, straightening above the surf. “I don’t mean to talk about any ‘wants’ of mine, but… I don’t want to add to the growing list of things you have to deal with. I don’t want to be a problem. Especially not for you.”

  “Aly, I already have problems. Plenty. Yours are the ones I want to have,” he argued, peering through the hair hiding her face. “Don’t be afraid of being interesting.”

  She laughed, almost forced, tucking a lock behind her ear, exposing her cheek. “Interesting has never been my problem.” “No, Aly, you are not the problem at all. You have never been the problem,” he insisted, offering a free hand. She took it in hers, tracing the snake curling around his wrist.

  “Rebirth,” she murmured, sounding absent.

  “I don’t know what Lee’s problem is, but I don’t care,” he said. “Promise me you’re not going anywhere.”

  “I promise,” she echoed, leaning in as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close and kissing her forehead.

  He said, “So what about the videos?”

  Aly groaned. “I think I dropped the camera.”

  “Look again,” he replied. “I’ve got a feeling about it.” Looking up, she smiled. “A feeling, huh?” The week flowed through his head, overwhelmed by a montage of memories louder than the surf at their feet. Peering into her ice blue eyes, Noah replied, “Agh. Plenty.”

  CHAPTER 23 | ALYSON Entering the office building was worse than the first day of school. With the swallowed terror that nothing or everything had changed surging, she moved through the doors, surprised to find a crowded lobby.

  She knew that morning he had carpooled, though he d idn’t say so, freeing the SUV for a morning commute. Was this what it looked like when they prepared for an investigation? If so, Aly was disappointed.

  At some point, her imagination of what Greg’s people did in the field had transitioned from nasally laughs and lab coats to leatherbound techies with enough equipment and sunglasses to belong to the cast of Blade: Trinity or The Matrix. Instead, duffle bags were packed in a pile by the door like a high school field trip, people in jeans, frumpily colored fleeces, and neon hats or head to toe camouflage milled around.

  Ignoring stares and too friendly smiles, Aly carved a path through the crowds, hoping eeny-meeny-miny-mo was an efficient way of selecting the hallway to her father’s office.

  “Alyson Glass?” Unwilling to deal with any of them, she debated taking off in a run. As her name was shouted again, Aly turned on her heel, dreading another confrontation.

  At least the sweater-vest hardly intimidates. “I’m Thane Clark.” He offered a small but heavily pa dded hand with a rough shake. “I’m the resident sketch artist, and I wanted to speak with you directly on your encounter, if that’s all right.”

  “I haven’t reported-”

  “Do you mind just takin’ a look at this for me?” Hesitant, she nodded, bad feelings rolling through her stomach. Biting her lip, she tucked a curl behind her ear, accepting the pad in hand.

  The accuracy was shocking, the position – the body language between the two creatures was incredibly similar to the interaction she’d seen: the baby in the corner of the page with an arm hooked on a branch, the confrontational male standing, another creature on all fours like a gorilla. Noting an issue in the facial features, she ignored the fac
t that the comment would be offending if anyone drew attention to it on her own work.

  “It’s a little cartoon-y,” she muttered, dissatisfied.

  His brow furrowed. “Not particularly.” She smiled to herself, recognizing the immediate walls built around critics from her own behavior. Fingers sliding along the page to direct, she explained, “Notice the distance between the lips in the nose. It’s standard to drawing faces, but isn’t overtly accurate to what I saw.”

  “Wow.” He blinked in shock, jaw dropped. “To be honest, I’m completely blown away. It just… seems, ‘right’. Very natural. If I didn’t know the video myself, I’m not sure I would rec’nized the features… Indescribable. Don’t you listen to anyone, ya hear? I know you seen things. You’re too young and all for that kind of pressure, and I’m tellin’ ya, I relate. Ya should see the crud they give me for lookin’ Asian and being one-hundred-percent Dixie. Insane, I’m tellin’ ya.”

  She hesitated, confused. “Well, thanks. I guess.” “Yer dad, his work was all changed. That report though, it has his fire all lit up again. It seems like he really had somethin’ to prove to someone, like his work was all-dayev’ryday, runnin’ out of time. Then somethin’ changed.”

  “What changed?” Aly inquired, unsure whether she was asking about his work or his belief in her report.

  Thane shrugged. “He’s just weird… blanker, more distant, less hopeful, but then he applies for perm’nent housin’-”

  Aly smirked. “Permanent housing? Where did he think he was going?”

  “Who knows? Anyway, half a year goes by n’ you show up. You must really calm the felladown.” She shook her head, swallowing a lump. The realization hit her like a brick – it had nothing to do with him approving of her, or believing her report. “Hardly… My mom died. He didn’t have something to work for anymore.”

  “I, uh, see,” he muttered, flinching in discomfort. “Well, I dunno if your daddy called ya in, but Professor Ajay really wants to talk to y’all – a good fella, very serious. At some point, you really should stop in the interviewin’ room.” He pointed across the hall, a blaring realization that she’d opted for a wrong turn.