by Becca Fox
“Intimidating?”
Jasmine full-on grinned. “Well, look at you. Gorgeous, street-smart, fun, fearless, experienced; everything he’s convinced he’s not. And now you’re heavily suggesting you’d like to take things to the next level?” She raised her hands, momentarily flashing her cards, and bent forward at the waist in a bow. “Not worthy, not worthy!”
“I guess I didn’t think of it that way,” I said with a chuckle. “I just wanted to see how he’d react, find out if he liked me.”
“Oh, of course he does.” There was a somber weight to her voice despite her confident smile. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re all he talks about. He doesn’t express himself very well or often but you’re always there, on the tip of his tongue, at the corners of his mind.” She pointed at my ear. “You’re wearing the proof.”
I ran a finger over the earring. One of the stars had a sharper edge than the rest. Proof that it was made by an amateur jewelry maker, there wasn’t another earring like it anywhere, and it had been crafted specifically for me.
I found myself standing. “I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be here,” Jasmine said with a wink.
Once I’d traded my cards for my crutches, I limped over to the back door. I saw Charlie through the glass. He leaned forward against the porch railing, staring at the garden and the still-falling rain. There was a faded logo on the back of his ball cap. He always wore the same one. I’d never asked him about it before. It was part of him, like his scowl and his skateboard, something I stopped noticing after a while. But there had to be a story there. Another facet to the enigma that was Charles Campbell.
It was awkward, opening the door and stepping out while balancing the crutches, but I wasn’t afraid of the conversation we needed to have. I didn’t have to know exactly how he felt about me. If we hadn’t scared each other off yet, it meant we’d be together for a while. There would be plenty of time for us to be more than friends. Later. When he was ready.
He half-twisted to look over his shoulder when I shut the door behind me. His eyes briefly met mine before he turned back around to face the yard. His ears were pink.
“Wanna tell me about the hat?” I asked, biting back a smile.
“What about it?” he murmured.
I limped forward until I was standing next to him. There was an inch or so of free space between our elbows. “It’s old but you still wear it every day. There has to be a reason.”
He squinted out at the rain, deliberating. “The first murder we helped my uncle solve,” he said after a time. “A college kid named Peter Higgins was found outside his dorm building, having mysteriously fallen to his death. I overheard my uncle talking about it with the other detectives, trying to get a second opinion. Everyone wanted to rule it as a suicide but I knew there was more to it than that. I’d seen the guy get pushed by someone.” He rolled his shoulders. “Jasmine and I had only lived with my uncle for six months. I didn’t know him that well. He was still coming to grips with our curse. I was afraid he wouldn’t take me seriously so I kept it to myself.”
He snorted. “Of course, Jasmine knew there was something off about the case too but she wanted me to make the first move, wanted me to decide what kind of relationship we’d have with our uncle, whom we both knew was going to be our new guardian.” Charlie lowered his voice to ask, “Were we going to be guests or family?”
“She’s wicked smart, your sister.”
Charlie nodded. “All the evidence supported the theory of suicide but, before my uncle could put the case to bed, I approached him. I knew I’d be letting a killer get away if I didn’t at least try to tell Uncle Vic what I knew. If he decided to ignore me...well, it would suck, but at least I’d have a clear conscience. So I told him everything I’d seen in my vision.”
“And he believed you,” I assumed.
“Something in the scene I’d described stood out to him. He reanalyzed the crime scene photos the next day and found this baseball cap on the floor near the window where the victim had supposedly jumped.” Charlie grinned with pride. “Peter Higgins never wore hats. Uncle Vic checked out the guy’s social media posts and even searched his dorm a second time. There weren’t any pictures of him in hats, not a single one stored anywhere. So who did the hat belong to?”
“The killer.”
“The victim’s best friend,” Charlie said with a nod. “Apparently, they’d been together one night, getting high, and there’d been an argument. They’d left the window open to get rid of the smell. One hard shove was all it took and Peter Higgins fell out. Uncle Vic didn’t have to push very hard to get a confession. The killer spilled his guts after sitting in the interrogation room for a few minutes.”
“And you kept the hat,” I said, glancing up at it, “because…?”
The pride was gone, replaced by insecurity. Charlie leaned back as far as his arms would let him, and glanced down at the wood planks beneath his feet. “It’s a reminder.”
“Here I thought I’d have to drag it out of you.” I elbowed him. “A reminder of what?”
He straightened up and deadpanned, “I have a purpose. I’m good for something. This curse has its benefits. Being abandoned by my parents was worth it. Take your pick.”
I nodded solemnly. “Makes sense.” After a pause, I added, “I’m sorry about today.”
He looked away. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“Even Jasmine could tell I was throwing myself at you and she’s a recluse. It was unfair and uncalled for. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“So you’re all right with us just being friends?” He asked the question slowly, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, while looking at me from under his lashes.
So. Damn. Cute.
I shrugged and did my best to sound nonchalant. “As long as we’re in each other’s lives, I’m happy.”
A smile started forming before he smothered it. “I didn’t realize you were so easy to please,” he finally said.
“I’m a very agreeable person,” I replied. “Ask anyone.”
He didn’t laugh, just kept watching me in that quiet, drinking-me-all-in sort of way. Then he ran his thumb over the flying pig and stars arching over my ear. He frowned. “This star is too sharp. I must’ve missed it when I was sanding it down. I can fix it if you want.”
“It’s fine. I like it this way.” I managed to sound halfway normal, if only a little bit out of breath. Thankfully. I summoned a smile. “It’s flawed and real, ya know?”
The frown remained but he didn’t argue with me. Instead, he let his thumb slide past my ear lobe, down my jaw line, to my chin. His eyes softened during his finger’s journey down my face. My heart was inching higher and higher up my throat with each beat. I had to fight the impulse to lean toward him as his hand fell away. In the end, I fought in vain because he was the one who leaned forward and kissed me. It was light. Slow. Sweet. Like the first sip of a perfectly warm cup of hot chocolate.
My eyes fluttered open when he pulled away. “I’m so confused.”
“Me too,” he whispered, but then he kissed me again. Harder and with more confidence, inhaling deeply as if in preparation for a plunge.
I guess, in a way, he was jumping.
So I jumped with him. When he took my waist in his hands, I let go of the crutches to weave my arms around his neck. I barely registered the sound they made when they hit the wooden floor. My good leg supported most of my weight but Charlie supported the rest. I wasn’t afraid to lean on him. I knew I’d be safe so long as he held me.
Then the vision came.
Chapter 24
Jasmine
I leaned out from behind the wall separating the sitting room and the short hallway which ended with the back door. I should’ve stepped back. I should’ve looked away. But I couldn’t. I watched Esmer and Charlie through the window cut into the door. Mesmerized. It was perhaps the most beautiful picture I’d ever seen.
A sheet of rain and a l
ush green garden for a backdrop. Two scarred people, stepping out in faith, entrusting each other with their delicate hearts, communicating so much without making a sound. Her sure arms around his shoulders, keeping them chest to chest, said: I will never let you go. His hands on her hips spoke a gentle promise: I will never hurt you. Their lips, although having just become acquainted moments ago, worked in perfect sync. Giving, taking, quietly savoring, whispering, I don’t want to taste anything else.
Tears came even as a smile stretched across my face. The sight brought awe and joy and pride like a rush of goose bumps across my entire body.
But, all too soon, grief came to chase those happy feelings away. Horrible, ugly, shameful envy followed. It was easy to look away then, to step back behind the wall and give them privacy. To give myself privacy as I fell apart.
I was never going to have that.
I knew it like a person knew their own name; with an unwavering certainty that didn’t need to be proven, but was there from the very beginning of one’s life. I’d accepted my fate long ago...or so I’d thought. From the gushing of tears and the sob that escaped me, one would’ve thought I’d just come to the realization. I sank into the plastic-covered couch, hugging my torso and bending forward to keep my insides from spilling out. The air rushed in and out of my mouth in a broken rhythm as I struggled to be quiet. The tears dripped down my chin.
I was alone. I had three loving men in my life and I was completely alone. Because they all had somebody else, a second half, a perfect fit, a best friend, a soul mate. Uncle Victor had Vanessa (although he hadn’t made his move yet). Anthony had Georgina (even if he would never admit he was still in love with her). Now Charlie had Esmer.
“A valiant attempt, but you cannot escape,” Death had said. “Neither of us can.”
Was this what she was talking about? This otherworldly category we belonged to, this lonely void that separated us from the rest of the world? Even surrounded by the souls of the departed, Death always stood apart from them when I saw her. She wasn’t alive or dead. She wasn’t human, maybe a step above. Still, she didn’t appear to be “in charge” of either the afterlife or the world of the living. Despite her mysterious and extraordinary powers, she was just a ferry. Always traveling between worlds. Never able to truly belong. Never able to connect.
Digging my nails into my sides, I tried to force the pain away. Charlie and Esmer wouldn’t stay outside forever, no matter how much they might’ve wanted to. Dinah would be done cleaning up the kitchen soon. Any of them could potentially walk in on me and see me this way. How was I supposed to explain what I was feeling?
I breathed deeply as I tugged the collar of my long-sleeved shirt up over my wet face. I tried to distract myself with happy thoughts but, as hard as I tried to conjure up a positive mental image, I couldn’t see beyond my own fate. This hopeless, helpless, inescapable misery that had driven me to attempt suicide. The longer I stared into the carpet under my feet, the worse I felt. My throat and nose began to burn, as if I’d accidentally inhaled hot tea. I coughed a bit to see if it would clear but nothing changed. In fact, the burning got stronger, gaining weight as it traveled down to my chest. I tried to take a breath but the fire that gripped my lungs refused to let them inflate.
Pain erupted along the side of my head, stretching to become a halo of needles. I tried to scream but of course, nothing came out. I vaguely recognized this as the feeling of drowning (I’d died with a drowning victim twice before), but this knowledge didn’t keep me calm. In fact, it made me panic even more.
I fell out of the couch, hands around my throat, body convulsing as it fought for air. Bright spots danced across my vision. The pain in my head and my lungs intensified. My strength waned. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was Dinah’s bright pink slippers scampering across the carpet toward me, the hem of her long denim skirt swaying around her ankles.
◆◆◆
I was in the dark, freezing place I’d come to know as hell when my senses returned. In the distance, I heard the slow swell and retreat of water. Either someone was swimming—which I thought highly unlikely since I could see my own breath—or that steady stroke against the water was coming from an oar.
“Who’s there?” I asked around my chattering teeth.
The longer I squinted into the dark, the more my eyes adjusted. Shadowy outlines sprouted up before me. Barren trees. A distant lake shore. A light fog rolling off of the water toward me. The starless sky yawned up above, endless and intimidating. Distant thunder grumbled. My bare feet sank a little in the ground when I followed the sounds of the approaching boat. I stopped just before my toes could touch the water. Now that I was closer, the heartbreaking sound of a grown man crying reached my ears.
“Please, you’ve made a mistake. I’m not dead. You have to take me back. My daughter—I was supposed to pick up her birthday present on my way home. She’s waiting for it and me. I have to tell her—”
“Ernest Dulaney.” This from a voice I knew all too well. “Due to inexcusable crimes against your fellow man, you’ve been sentenced to an eternity of agony.” Death spoke as if reading a piece of dry literature she’d been forced to read aloud numerous times in the past.
“No! No, please—”
“Your sentence is final,” Death continued, a hint of impatience seeping into her rehearsed speech. “There is nothing you nor I can do to change it. You have the rest of eternity to contemplate how different your fate might have been if you had only made an effort to be a decent person in life.”
I still couldn’t see them but their voices carried perfectly across the clear, flat surface of the lake. The rowing sound finally stopped. My heart lurched in my chest. I knew I couldn’t help him or convince Death to delay the inevitable. Still, I strained for a glimpse of them. Whatever happened next, I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone.
The fog shifted, parting along the center of the lake, giving me a narrow view of more shadowy figures. This time they took the shapes of two people in a row boat. One sat with his head in his hands while the other stood before him, their long dress rippling in a breeze I couldn’t feel.
“Please,” the man kept crying. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Death gave a heartless sigh. “They always are.” Then, with a wave of her hand, the man was thrown out of the boat and into the water.
My shout of protest was lost among the sound of a thousand hungry souls crying out in victory. The surface of the water broke into a dizzying amount of V shaped ripples, all of which rushed toward the center of the lake. Where the dead man now struggled to keep his head above the water. I shut my eyes and slapped my hands over my ears but, somehow, I still heard everything. The horrible tearing of flesh and bone. The almost beast-like howling. The poor man’s hair-raising screams.
I fell to my knees in the mud, crying so hard my head hurt.
“Stop it,” Death snapped, her voice suddenly closer.
I looked up and scuttled back in alarm. She stood right in front of me now, glaring down her nose at me.
“He used threats to steal from honest, hard-working people. He doesn’t deserve anyone’s pity, least of all yours.”
“How can you know that?” I demanded, jumping to my feet. “What are you?”
At this, her scowl became slightly less severe. There was a hint of sadness in her voice when she said, “I can’t tell you.”
I drew my forearm across my nose. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t!” was the explosive reply. Then she twisted away from me.
That invisible hook sank into my back. It dragged me out of the darkness and into Dinah’s sitting room before I could fully register the frustration on Death’s face.
October 2nd, 1961
We have sought the dying. We have found them everywhere. I cannot believe we never thought to simply look around us. Everyone dies. Save us. We have traveled from village to village throughout Mexico and have posed as foreign doctors come to serve the un
derprivileged and poor. People have opened their homes to us and allowed us to wait on their terminally ill. With our meager knowledge of medicine we can safely navigate these delicate situations. But the time required to wait for people to pass is unbearable.
The worst part of the process is missing Death after weeks of visitations to an incurable patient. It has become increasingly harder to hide our frustration and behave in a compassionate way. After months of waiting by deathbeds, we have only felt Death’s presence once. It was so quick and so subtle, we hardly had time to speak to each other. We only know for certain it was Death because the patient stopped breathing and, in the briefest of moments, I felt the strongest sense that we had been here before.
Dymeka agreed with my description. It was not familiar, but something about the situation felt repeated. It was nothing like our first encounter with Death. Then again, Death chose to show herself in a complete form. We did not see anything distinctive in the tiny, bare old room. She can control her appearance. She can come to this world invisible. She can come and go in a blink of an eye. Leaving behind nothing, except a feeling.
So we continue to chase a feeling.
Can she feel us? Does she see us searching? Does she even care?
Chapter 25
Charles
“Son of a bitch!”
My eyes snapped open. I was flat on my back on the wooden planks of Dinah’s porch, feeling like I got punched in the back of the head. My elbow was throbbing too, keeping pace with my heartbeat. I groaned and almost choked on a mouthful of copper. I assumed my stinging lips were the cause of the blood. Running my hand over my face confirmed it.
Slowly, I turned to look at Esmer. She lay curled up on her side, hugging her bad knee and grimacing into the planks. I sat up right away. Because I suddenly remembered what we’d been doing before the vision had come.