Continuum

by Susan Wu

  “Oh, I've kept you up way too late,” I say, feeling guilty for monopolizing his evening—err, morning. Ethan stretches casually, his boots landing with a soft thud has they hit the floor. I pick up the open sketchbook and place it on the pile on the nightstand.

  When I turn back around, Ethan is shirtless. This is not the first time I have gazed on his perfectly chiseled torso, but my face flames immediately in response and I jerk my head back toward the nightstand.

  “If I get hot I can’t sleep, I, uh, I usually sleep in my box--with my shirt off.” He laughs nervously, “Does this weird you out? Yeah, this is weird.” His shirt is inside out when I turn back to face him.

  I swallow nervously, looking down at my fingers which are twisted in my lap, “I’m sorry. Just do whatever makes you comfortable, Ethan. I’m not weirded out, I just... I've never had a boy stay the night.”

  “Oh, it's not that I usually do this... err, I mean I have never stayed the night at a girl's house like this before...” He trips over his words and a faint blush colors his cheeks. Our eyes meet and a smile spreads across Ethan's lips. “I'm exhausted, I could fall asleep on a bed of nails during an earthquake, why don't we just, uhm, get comfortable?”

  He carefully lays down and rolls over to the extreme edge of the bed, holding the covers open for me. I turn off the lamp next to the bed. I climb in under the covers as casually as I can manage, but I'm pretty certain the thundering of my heart gives me away. I lay down, stiff as a board on the opposite edge of the bed.

  Ethan's hand finds mine underneath the covers, his longs fingers intertwining with mine, “Good night, Fallon.”

  “Good night, Ethan.”

  I can tell the moment Ethan falls asleep. His body gives a huge jerk like he's catching himself from falling off the bed. For a moment I think he has woken up but his breathing stays deep and even. I stare at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come. I lay like this for ages before gently removing my hand from his and turning onto my side.

  I lay there watching Ethan as he sleeps. His face is illuminated in the wash of moon light coming through the sliver left by the shade covering the window. His eyelashes are a dark sweep against his cheeks, the shadow of his long nose melts into the bow of his lips which are slightly parted. My chest constricts seeing him so at peace. I carefully turn over onto my back and close my eyes. The darkness finally overcomes me.

  A cold gust of wind cuts through me and I am shudder in my pajamas. Did I leave the window open? Another shudder runs through me but I am far too exhausted to get up and shut it. Reaching out for my down comforter, my hand lands on something cold and damp. The sensation wakes me instantly and I bolt up.

  I'm disorientated since I was clearly not in my bedroom--it’s very dark and I’m in the middle of what appears to be a small, overgrown clearing. I had been lying in the wet grass and my pajamas are damp and the chill bores down to my bones. The inky sky is blanketed with ominous gray clouds and the fresh scent of rain hangs in the air.

  I scramble to my feet and look around, trying to gather my bearings. It’s too dark to distinguish my surroundings. I haven’t slept walk since I was a kid. I used to sleep walk so regularly my mom had to set out booby traps. I would trigger the trap and it would make a noise, waking me up before I went outside. But I hadn't done it since I was at least ten years old.

  The clearing is surrounded by a grove of trees--none of which look remotely familiar. There are no lights or sounds of traffic. Then again, it feels very late at night or very nearly early in the morning and Everest Heights is pretty much deserted after 10:00PM. I pick a direction and start walking briskly through the forest, hoping to hit a road.

  Moonlight occasionally bleeds through the thick layer of clouds filtering through the dense canopy of trees. It makes the shadows even blacker and more menacing. The forest is filled with unfamiliar noises that make every hair on my body stand. Every time a stray branch or leaf brushes against my bare skin, a shiver runs through me and I want to cry out. The wind is blowing fiercely and the temperature seems to be free falling the deeper I travel into the trees.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I rub my hands over the goosebumps forming over my forearms, trying to keep warm. I come into another clearing, this one is vast and the grass is shorter. I pause between two large oak trees, feeling uneasy. There are no trees to block the wind now and it bites into my exposed flesh.

  I drag in a deep breath of frigid air but my lungs can’t seem to fully expand, my ribcage aching from the effort. The clouds part and the moonlight washes over the field. To my great relief, I spot a lone, hooded figure on the other side of the clearing. Then like I was inside a vacuum, the sounds night grows eerily quiet. My heartbeat picks up, panic coursing through my bloodstream.

  I call out for help but the wind carries away the sound. I try again but my voice box doesn't seem to be working properly. Only white puffs of air come out of my mouth. Growing increasingly anxious, I run toward the figure but the wind picks up tenfold whipping my hair back and tangling my pajamas around my body. With all my strength and determination, I trudge against the ferocity of the wind toward the enshrouded figure across the field. But the wind is unrelenting, whipping my long hair into my eyes.

  When I am finally close enough to touch him, he suddenly turns around. The wind blows back his hood and I instantly recognize the steel gray eyes, more glacial than the wind whipping around us. I let out a soundless scream.

  Ethan's hands are wrapped around my shoulders, shaking me vigorously. Sunlight is bleeding through the drapes.

  “I'm awake! I'm awake! My brain is adequately addled. Thank you.”

  He stops shaking me but keeps his grip on my shoulders. His brow is creased with worry and his voice is a frantic whisper, “You scared me to death the way you were screaming!”

  I slowly pull myself up into a sitting position, my back leaning against the headboard. I casually brush my hair off my face, a lock sticking to my forehead from the sheen of sweat covering my skin. Had I really been so distracted by other things that I hadn’t noticed the dreams were back? “I was screaming?”

  “Yeah, it took me a minute to wake you. Were you having a bad dream?”

  I crinkle my forehead in concentration, trying hard to recall my dream, “I guess. I don't remember.” Absently, I rub the goosebumps on my arms.

  “Well, you're okay now,” he says as he pulls me against his side and kissing the top of my head. I fit neatly in the nook under his arm.

  We sit nestled together in silence for a few moments. Ethan is absently twisting a lock of my hair between his fingers and I can feel the tension radiating off him. Now that he knows my secret, my unknown nightmare is making him anxious.

  His quiet concern is distracting and my own sense of foreboding starts to creep up on me. Dwelling would not do any good since my perfect memory failed to recall my dream. I slowly roll off the bed pulling Ethan's hand with me. “Come on. I'll make you some chocolate chip pancakes before you go. You should get home before your mom starts worrying.”

  After breakfast, we are saying our goodbyes and making plans for later in the afternoon. “I gotta put in some face time with my mom but I'll come by around two? You can help me study for the European History midterm. Not all of us have photographic memories.”

  I smile at his mock exasperation, teasing him, “Or the willpower to stay awake during Mrs. Douglas's lecture.”

  “That would be the entire student body,” he replies with a roll of his eyes.

  “It's not that hard. You just need to tickle the roof of your mouth with your tongue. Works for me every time.”

  Ethan places his hands on my waist, pulling me closer to him. “Point taken. I work well with incentives as well. If I do really well maybe you'll reward me with some more drawings? The ones in the attic?”

  Before I can reply, he wraps his arms around me tugging my body against his. He leans down and kisses me urgently and as I gasp in surprise, his tongue traces along
my bottom lip. When I am breathless, Ethan pulls his lips away but rests his forehead against mine. His blue eyes are electric as they look into mine, a beautiful smile spread across his face. My ragged breathing is too loud in the small room but I can’t bring myself to care. “See you at two, Fallon.”

  “Goodbye, Ethan.” He brushes his lips against the tip of my nose before pulling away. His eyes never leaving mine, his smile never faltering, he slips out the front door.

  I sit at the bay window in the living room and watch as he rides off. I check the time on my cell phone and I have far too much time to kill. I go through my list of household chores but come up empty. My room was tidy. The bathroom clean. No laundry to wash. The dishes were loaded and washing in the dishwasher.

  Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion comes over me. I feel drained from my troubled sleep last night. Determined to be fresh and alert for our study session, I make my way back into my room and crawl under the covers into the still warm bed. I fall asleep almost instantly.

  My eyes snap open and I awake with a sharp intake of air. A feeling of panic grips my body and I can't get my lungs to cooperate. My breath comes out in hurried, shallow gasps. Clumsily, I grab a pad of paper and a piece of charcoal off my nightstand. I close my eyes trying to capture the memory in my mind's eye as my dream is quickly dissipating. A few moments later, my breathing has slowed down closer to normal. I open my eyes and look down at the pad of paper.

  I examine the picture closely. A hard expression on a face I don't recognize, every line filled with hatred. Cold eyes staring out from underneath dark furrowed brows, nostrils flaring on a nose that's been broken at least twice, thin lips snarling in disgust. Staring at the page trying to place where I remembered this man from, it takes me a minute to realize the doorbell is ringing.

  I close the sketchbook and spring up from the bed. I sprint to the door, yanking it open. A smile forms on my lips as soon as I see Ethan. I step aside so he can come inside. His bag lands with a clunk as he tosses it next to the front door closet. He pulls me into an embrace, his arms wrapping securely around my waist. “Are you okay? I was knocking for a while.”

  “I'm sorry, I feel asleep,” I admit sheepishly.

  He kisses me briefly on the forehead before pulling away. A mischievous smile spreads across his lips as he stands by the door looking at me.

  “What?” I smooth my hair with both hands, trying to make myself look more presentable.

  “No, no. It's nothing. I just didn't notice the penguins on your pajamas.” I feel my face flood with heat as Ethan continues teasingly, “Come on, now don't be like that. They're cute.”

  Groaning, I reply, “Wait for me in the kitchen. I just need a minute to brush my teeth and change.” I turn back to look at Ethan before heading to my room and say as sternly as someone wearing penguin pajamas can say, “Start studying without me.”

  As soon as the bedroom door shuts, I am in a flurry of movement. I throw open the door to my closet and start sifting through clothes. I examine my collection of dresses, mostly flowery prints or varying shades of pink-- purchased pre-adolescence. I rummage through a pile of sweaters, pausing to contemplate a pink sweater I haven't worn in ages. I throw it in the reject pile. My style was usually more utilitarian and I didn't know what would be considered an appropriate “studious but still cute” outfit.

  I try to tell myself not to over think it, to just throw on whatever. Which is easier said than done and I spend another couple minutes holding top and skirt combos against my body. Eventually, my clothing options are exhausted. I decide to go low key rather than try and wow Ethan with some random dress that hasn't seen the light of day since middle school. Quickly, I slip off my pajamas and put on a white v-neck t-shirt and an emerald green sweater that compliments my eyes. Grabbing my favorite faded, worn in jeans from the reject pile, I pull them.

  Inside the adjoining bathroom, I quickly wash my face. I yank a comb through my long hair which is unruly from sleep. Then I brush my teeth vigorously and gurgle mouthwash for a full minute. Finally, I apply an extra coating of deodorant before exiting. I check my reflection before exiting and my usually pale face is rosy from exertion. My skin glowing from my inner joy. I hardly recognize myself.

  When I come into the kitchen, Ethan is definition of the model student. He is wearing an expression of deep concentration. His European History book, a couple of ancient looking leather bound books from the library, and his notebook are all carefully spread out on the table.

  Pulling up a chair next to him, I lean over to see what part of the book he's in. “French Revolution?”

  “Yup. My favorite. Who doesn't like a good beheading?”

  “And don't forget about pants. The clothes of the working class.”

  Ethan leans over and wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Actually, I could have done without the whole pants revolution.”

  Tapping the open book with my hand, I nudge him playfully to get his attention. “Study time. You need to concentrate.”

  We spend the next couple hours pouring over our notes, going over the timeline of the war. After reviewing the storming of the Bastille, Ethan snaps the book shut abruptly. Stretching his arms up, he declares, “I cannot possibly go on. I am bored and hungry. Positively ravenous. Please, Fallon, let's grab some pizza before my body eats my brain for fuel.”

  “Alright, I concede. Let them eat pie! Pizza pie!”

  “Great, let's go to Fat Tony’s.”

  Standing swiftly, Ethan pulls me up from my chair. I grab my leather jacket and boots from the hallway closet and stuff my keys into the pocket of my jeans. Ethan is already waiting for me outside, leaning against his motorcycle. He unclips a shiny red helmet from the side of the bike and holds it out to me.

  I stare at the small unassuming orb without making a move to take it from his hand. “Err, I'm not so sure about this. Fat Tony's really isn't that far away. And geez it's really nice out for November. Don't you want to walk?”

  “Fat Tony's is like three and a half miles away.”

  The diversion tactics continue. “Oh, three miles? I don't remember it being that far away. But that's okay, I could really use the exercise. Especially if we're eating copious amounts of refined carbohydrates.”

  Ethan artfully raises one eyebrow and shakes his head, pressing the helmet into my hands. “Not going to be that easy. Put it on. ” He places his own black helmet as if to demonstrate the expected behavior. Cautiously, I place the foreign object on and fiddle with the chin strap until it feels secure on my head. I flip down the tinted visor and the night grows darker. My heart is palpitating and I start sweating, grateful that I thought to put on extra deodorant.

  Ethan casually mounts the bike while I eye the distance from the ground to the bike. He senses my hesitation. He pats the seat behind him, “Come on, Fallon. Hop on. I promise not to kill us. You can hold onto me as tight as you like.”

  I half jump, half kick my leg onto the bike. It takes me two tries before I get my leg over. Once, I'm securely on, I lean against Ethan's back and wrap my arms tightly around his waist. “Please go slow. I'd like to make it to my next birthday.”

  He laughs as he kicks the bike into gear. Squeezing my eyes shut, I send a silent prayer to the highway gods. He eases the bike from my driveway and onto the street. I risk a glance once we are on the highway. The speedometer reads 55MPH but the wind whipping past us makes it feel like we are flying on the pavement. The sky is covered by clouds and I can only make out the stretch of road illuminated by the single headlight. As we go around a bend, the headlight flashes on the neat rows of trees lining the side of the highway, shadowy soldiers of the night.

  The wind is howling past us, blowing back my hair that’s sticking out from under the helmet. Suddenly I flash on a memory of standing in a field, my hair whipping around me. Fear clenches in the pit of my stomach but I shake it off, concentrating on the present. When my vision adjusts, I see the exit for Fat Tonys's up ahead.

  Etha
n pulls smoothly into a parking spot in front of the restaurant. We made it in one piece, all limbs securely intact. I half stumble, half climb off the back of the motorcycle. My thighs are tingling from gripping the bike so tightly. Ethan easily hops off and removes his helmet, shaking his hair back into place. Stiffly, I pull my helmet off and hang it on the back of the bike.

  Ethan reaches over and puts his hand against the small of my back as we walk toward the restaurant. “That wasn't completely horrible was it?”

  I run my fingers through my half-smashed by a helmet, half-wind blown hair and give him my best brave smile, “Not completely horrible.”

  It's extremely crowded and loud inside since it's Saturday night. Everest Heights isn't exactly a hotbed for nighttime activities. It seems like a third of the Everest High School population is crammed into Fat Tony’s tonight. The door jingles as we enter the restaurant. People glance up and soon everyone is turning around and watching us walk in, the volume reducing by half with each step we take.

  Ethan pulls my hand into his as we scan the restaurant for an empty table. As we walk to the only open booth in the furthest corner of the dining area, I can feel the burning eyes of every person present. A bomb could go off in the opposite corner and people would not have stopped gaping.

  He releases my hand and I scurry into the booth. Ethan slings his jacket over the back of the booth before sitting down and carefully inspecting the menu. I leave my jacket on, ready to leave at the smallest provocation. I pull my menu up over my face, shrinking into my seat. As soon as we are seated, the murmuring starts up. The sound building until the buzzing is overwhelming.

  After a few minutes, I risk a peek over my top of my menu and see every table is turned toward us, openly staring and whispering. We might as well be in the center of the room with a spotlight pointed on us. I spot Mackenzie three tables away giving me the evil eye so I slide my menu back up.