by Becca Fox
He peered at me from between his fingers. “The boy had terrible colic. He cried all the time and slept infrequently. The girl went through phases where she’d writhe and scream as if she were being tortured. Then she’d flatline, only to come back to life minutes later.”
“Jesus,” I whispered. I could almost picture those inconsolable infants, suffering from a fate they didn’t deserve. And their parents, floundering for a way to help.
“Dan and Joyce put up with it for about six years.” Charlie lowered his hand. Stared down at my sheets. “They listened when the boy told them about his waking nightmares of old people having strokes, of young people getting into gory car accidents, of children drowning in canals. They told the little girl’s teachers that she suffered from seizures and heart murmurs which sometimes made it seem as if she had no pulse. But the knowledge that they had done this to their children began to eat away at them until they couldn’t even stand to look at the twins anymore.”
Here he leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees. He spoke to the floor, hurrying through the rest of his story. “Dan called his brother, Victor, and told him everything, practically begged him to take the kids if only for a week or two. Victor agreed to help. It was obvious his brother needed a break and he had some vacation time, so why not? The twins were on a plane three days later. Before they left, their parents assured them that it was temporary, they’d all be together again soon, and they were still loved.”
He seemed so genuinely hurt; it made my eyes sting. I reached out to touch his back. He stiffened but didn’t shy away from my touch.
“When Dan and Joyce called Victor to ask for an extension, he hesitantly agreed. He hired a temporary nanny to help with the kids while he returned to work. But then three weeks turned into two months and two months into six and six into a year.”
Charlie took a deep, shuddering breath and forged on. “All of the twins’ things were shipped to Victor’s apartment. Letters and checks started arriving in the mail, short excuses from Dan and Joyce, funds to help Victor raise their children. When the nanny was driven away by the girl’s strange condition and the boy’s angry outbursts, Victor hired a doctor to care for them full time. The doctor was paid handsomely for his services and discretion. To protect the girl from the scrutiny of outsiders, she was kept indoors. And the boy…”
An ugly chuckle. “The boy was allowed to come and go as he pleased, if only to create the illusion of freedom. But there’s no such thing for the cursed. There never will be.”
We sat in silence for a while. He kept his head bowed. I kept my hand on his back. The monitors beeped. The rain fell.
“That’s the worst story I’ve ever heard,” I finally said.
“Isn’t it?” Charlie sniffled and drew an arm across his nose.
I rubbed his back, a lump of anger and grief lodged in my throat. I didn’t know if I believed him just yet, but one thing was for certain: I hated seeing him like this.
“You want some Jell-O?” I asked, reaching for the nurse call button.
“No. It’s okay.” His voice was surprisingly steady. When he lifted his head, his eyes were bloodshot but dry. “Thanks.”
I took my hand back. Charlie sat up. We stared at each other for a long time. He seemed to be waiting for something or maybe bracing himself for something.
“So you saw me getting beaten up?” I asked. “Because I was going to die?”
“Yeah.”
“But I didn’t die. You got to me before that, made sure I was brought to the hospital.”
“Yeah.” He tugged on his earlobe and lowered his gaze. “I yelled really loud during the vision and my uncle heard me. He’s the one who called the ambulance.”
“What happens to you?” I rolled my wrist. “During your visions, I mean. Do you pass out?”
Charlie nodded.
“And, when you’re caught in a vision, are you there with the person dying or are you kind of floating on the ceiling and watching it all happen?”
“Both.” At my raised eyebrows, he added, “It’s different every time.”
“Your sister—”
His entire body grew tense, like he was waiting for me to punch him.
“She has all of my same injuries?”
He relaxed. “She did, but she’s healed now. The only thing left is the memory of the pain.”
I shivered and hugged myself. That didn’t sound any better. “It’s so damn cold in here,” I said to cover it up.
He frowned. “None of this freaks you out?”
Of course it freaked me out. But if he hadn’t intervened I’d be dead right now, so why should it matter whether I was freaked out or not?
“Death is a vengeful bitch. That doesn’t surprise me. The fact that she has the power to make people miserable ain’t too surprising either.” I chuckled. “The fact that she’s actually a real entity is surprising but not improbable. That I would meet the only guy on the planet who has bigger issues than I do is the real shock. Then again, I’m on heavy pain meds so I might not be thinking clearly.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” he said.
“Yeah, it freaks me out.” I shrugged. “But so does the future, and the possibility that there’s a God, and whether the government is really spying on us through our smart speakers. But you ain’t seeing me shrinking away from those questions. They’re a part of our lives so we deal with them when they come.”
Charlie tilted his head to the side. “You think Alexa is a government spy?”
“I don’t know. That’s why it freaks me out.” I placed a hand over my chest when it felt like a vice was tightening around my lungs. I was breathing too hard.
“You all right?” he asked, sitting up.
“The point is...” I took a second to catch my breath. “I’m not gonna…stop being friends with you…just because you have an ability…that scares me a little.” I smirked at the blank expression he was giving me. “You’re still the only person worth talking to at school.”
“Oh,” was all he said.
The nurse brought me a tray of food. It was meatloaf, mashed potatoes, a side of steamed vegetables, and a cup of Jell-O. It was dinner time then. They always served me the same thing for dinner.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Do you need anything else, Esmeralda?” she asked, throwing Charlie a quick smile.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“All righty then. Holler if you change your mind.” Then she left.
I pulled the tray closer and plucked the Jell-O cup from its designated square. I tossed it at him. He caught it despite his deceptively empty stare.
Turning the cup over in his hands, Charlie asked, “What’s this for?”
“I ain’t a fan of eating alone.” I peeled open the plastic utensil packet that came with the meal and handed him the spoon. It took him a while but he eventually accepted it.
Then we ate in silence.
“My aunt gave me back my phone,” I said when I was halfway through the meatloaf.
The right side of his mouth curled while he dug around the Jell-O cup. “Oh yeah? What have you been listening to?”
I told him.
April 25th, 1950
Why do we deny ourselves the intimacy of friends? Our fellow immortals, I’m sure, have friends. They can use modern makeup to appear older and look just like their aging neighbors and thus create their empires amongst the mortals.
I do get lonely from time to time. I never tire of Dymeka’s company, of course. However, there are times I wish we didn’t have to separate ourselves from society. I am not entirely certain how people live these days. I have seen glimpses of their culture by reading their news and their contemporary novels from time to time. This is primarily due to the need to exist inconspicuously. I know enough of current culture to know I do not need to live like them but I desire greatly to know them. Dymeka tells me he feels the same at times but his fear of discovery keeps us moving.
We have not the heart to engage in society yet, but perhaps we can engage with the only being who understands us. Our immortal gift giver: Death. We have decided, for the first time in our existence, to seek Death out. Perhaps we can find a way to communicate with her. We have been unable to find her since our one and only encounter when we were young, sitting around our fire, reveling in our odd and wondrous life. Yet even then, Death appeared to us. She was shrouded in light, brighter than our fire, and spoke in a strange voice. And then she vanished. We have felt something similar to Death’s presence only a few times since that day.
But it was always quick and fleeting. We believe it is Death visiting someone nearby. We only suspect this because someone has been found dead soon after. This is all speculation, of course. There is no concrete evidence to gather.
In a perhaps vain attempt, we intend to seek Death out through religious sources. We heard a tale of a monastery in northern Europe that had dealings with Death. It is most likely a fairytale. But it is all we have. We, after all, are something of fairytales. Perhaps there is reason to hope a fairytale could provide us with answers.
It is exciting to set sail back to Europe with a new quest. Wandering the earth for pleasure has been exceedingly rewarding but there are things yet to learn. We had not searched for knowledge on our journey around the world, only experiences. Perhaps knowledge holds the key to attaining our inner desires.
* * *
Chapter 17
Charles
I stopped short when I came to Uncle Vic’s desk and saw Vanessa Burkley sitting there instead. It had been almost two years since she’d been allowed to shadow my uncle, but I still wasn’t completely comfortable around her. It bothered Jasmine that Ms. Burkley tried so hard to be friends with us. It bothered me that she was so into my uncle. Older people weren’t supposed to fall in love. It was gross.
She must’ve noticed me hovering because she finally looked away from the computer screen to smile at me. “Hey, Charlie. What’s up?”
“I was hoping to get a ride to the hospital. Is Vic going to be out for a while?”
Vanessa hooked a thumb behind her. “He went to talk to our soon-to-be senator. The latest victim Jazzy led us to turned out to be Mr. Ward’s campaign lawyer, and you know what your uncle always says. One’s an accident, two is a coincidence, but three—”
“Is a pattern,” I said with a nod. “So whoever’s doing this is definitely after the mayor, er, senator’s secrets.”
“Or they’re trying to intimidate him out of the election. Either way, your uncle couldn’t avoid meeting with him any longer.” Vanessa woke up her phone with a tap of her finger and peered down at the screen. “He called about a half hour ago to have me put out a BOLO on a pair of potential suspects. He said he was on his way so he should be walking in right…about…” She swiveled in her chair to stare at the front doors, which were barely visible down the aisle between desks and behind the reception counter. “Now.”
The doors did open, but only to admit a pair of cops who were dragging some handcuffed delinquents inside.
“Well, he should be here soon,” Vanessa said with less enthusiasm as she turned back to face me. “He probably just got caught in traffic.”
“Probably. I’ll wait for him downstairs.” I managed a half smile and stepped back. “Thanks for the update.”
Pushing against the armrests, she rose. “So who’s this girl you keep visiting?”
I bit back the first response that came to mind, which was “none of your business,” and tried to remember that she was only looking for a way to connect with me. Besides, she was the closest thing my uncle had to a friend other than Anthony.
“Just a girl from school,” I said in what I hoped was a casual manner. “She’s new to the city so she doesn’t get too many visitors.”
“Yeah, your uncle said something like that.” Vanessa gave a secretive sort of smile and a wink. “He also said she likes to look for trouble.”
I grimaced. She made Esmer sound like an adrenaline junkie or something. “Nah, she just doesn’t know how to pick her fights.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re making an effort to befriend her. I think you’d be a good influence on her.”
I raised my eyebrows. What did this lady think she knew about me that made her so sure I was a good influence?
“Trust me, I’ve known my fair share of college boys and you are by far the most decent.”
Thankfully, I was saved from having to answer by Uncle Vic who came walking up to us. His hair looked like he’d been running his hand through it repeatedly. That was never a good sign.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
“About as well as any sensitive conversation with a politician could’ve gone,” my uncle grunted. “I spoke with Mr. Ward for five minutes before he had to rush off to another appointment. He was ‘fully willing to cooperate’ while also ‘not at liberty’ to answer most of my questions. After that frustrating session, he left me in the good hands of his new press secretary. Those two names I gave you were the only useful information I was able to gather, Nessie. Did you get started on the BOLO?”
“Just sent it out.”
Uncle Victor nodded. “Good, good. Hopefully that’ll get us somewhere.”
“Who’s the BOLO for? Anyone we know?” I asked. I was thinking of Mr. Ward’s competitors, the peppy lady from Vancouver, the long-winded guy from Bellingham, and the clueless twenty-something-year-old from Olympia. None of whom seemed extreme enough to hire someone to go after Mr. Ward’s campaign staff. But people had done some pretty shady things to win elections in the past…
“No. When I asked the mayor if he knew of anyone in his current or past circle who could do something like this, he gave me the names of his oldest friends.” At my look of surprise, my uncle shrugged. “Apparently, they had a big falling out several years ago. He thought maybe this was their way of settling things. Although, why it would’ve taken them this long to act is beyond me. Mr. Ward was convinced they were involved somehow, even indirectly, so we have to look into it.”
“I couldn’t find any credit scores, medical histories, or even parking tickets when I did a general search of Jerald and Angela Smith.” Vanessa swiped a notebook off the desk behind her and began reading off her list. “Just a pair of birth certificates, social security numbers, and a Philadelphia vehicle registration for an RV back in the early two thousands.”
“Weird,” I said slowly.
“And potentially suspicious,” Uncle Vic added, tapping his fingers against his thigh. “Did you put a BOLO out on the RV too?”
Vanessa flipped her notebook closed with a smirk. “Just who do you think you’re talking to? A rookie?”
“Of course you did. Sorry.”
The gentle smile my uncle gave her made me sick to my stomach. I cleared my throat. That seemed to snap my uncle out of whatever moment he was having.
“Charlie,” he blurted out, swinging his gaze over to me. “You needed something?”
“Yeah. A ride to the hospital.”
He pointed at me. “Right. Is there anything else I need to do while I’m out?”
Stand in the freezing rain for a bit? I had to grit my teeth to keep from voicing the question out loud.
“Bring me some coffee?” Vanessa asked.
“Sure.” My uncle fished his keys out of his pocket as he turned away from his sort-of partner. “Come on, Charlie.”
I nodded at Vanessa before following.
“How was school?” Uncle Victor asked without looking at me.
Boring as hell. But he didn’t need to know that.
“Fine.”
“Jasmine’s recovering okay from the death of that lawyer?”
“Just like always.”
Uncle Victor held the door open for me. I hunched my shoulders against the cold and prepared myself for rain. It wasn’t pouring anymore, just sprinkling. I could’ve skated to the hospital if I’d really wanted to but it made my u
ncle nervous when I skated around in the rain. It was already dangerous for me to be on wheels since I could get a vision and potentially pass out in the middle of the street. Rain would only make it harder for people to see me. I was pretty sure I was the only nineteen-year-old kid in the state who didn’t have a driver’s license. Another reason to hate the curse.
We drove to the hospital in silence. The wiper blades ran seamlessly over the wet windshield. The heater didn’t even hum. My uncle’s Sedan was so much quieter compared to the cop cruiser. It made the ride seem awkward.
“Sorry if things got a little weird for you back there,” he finally said.
I shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“I never want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t.”
“Nessie and I are just good friends.”
“Vic,” I said with an uneasy chuckle, “I know. And even if there was more going on, there’s nothing to justify or explain. You can do whatever you want. You’re a grown-ass man.”
He waited for me to elaborate, as if not willing to accept this answer right away.
“Jazz seems to think you don’t want to get close to anyone because you’re afraid of them finding out about the curse, but you can have a life apart from us. I’m perfectly okay with that and so is she.” I was also perfectly okay not hearing about whatever was or wasn’t going on between him and Vanessa.
“Right,” Uncle Victor murmured, but he didn’t sound convinced.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was always there whenever we needed him, even if it was inconvenient. It was almost as if he wanted to prove he wasn’t like our parents. As if we didn’t already know.
I cleared my throat. “I, uh, appreciate everything you do, Uncle Vic.”
He cracked a smile. “Thanks, son.”
With a nod, I turned back to the window.