Ether

by Dana Michelle Belle

  The more I look at him the emptier he looks. His face is bleak, frozen, and unnatural. The noise vibrates over his skin, making his features ripple before my eyes. I turn down the first corridor I come to, anything to take me from his view. The whistle fades behind me until I am standing in a normal, quiet hallway again. Is this what it felt like to lose your mind? I want to call out to Ephraim so badly. The hallway is emptying slowly as students rush to their next classes. I pick my way reluctantly towards the library. It seems kind of pointless to try studying right now.

  The library is almost empty of other students. Two girls sit at a table to one side and the librarian works quietly at her desk, but other than that the usual hushed whisper of the library is absent. I glance toward Justin’s usual table, he isn’t here yet. Instead of taking out my books, I make my way into the shelves. Nestling myself out of view, I whisper, “Ephraim?”

  Instantly, I feel the warmth of his presence near me. I turn, a smile already on my face, I can’t help myself. He is smiling, leaning arms folded against the book shelf. In the artificial light of the library, in this dimly lit recess, he looks more solidly real than I’ve ever seen him. On impulse I reach out to touch his arm. Touching him is like trying to collect a handful of sauna steam. Something warm and liquid pushes back against my fingers, but then my fingers slip right through him.

  He frowns as my fingers slip through his image and I step away, “We have to give it time Becks, tactile persistence requires a very strong connection,” he says.

  “Tactile Persistence?”

  “The ability to channel Ethereal energy into a physically form in any lasting way,” he explains patiently, moving in toward me, “But you didn’t call for me to talk about metaphysics did you?”

  He is standing close enough to me that I can smell his sun warmed earth and freshly mowed grass scent. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath in. When I open them he is so close to me that we are almost touching. My skin tingles with his nearness. I am painfully aware of him on every level, as if my entire body is tuned to his frequency. “I don’t like what’s happening Ephraim.”

  He winces, concern playing across his face, “I wouldn’t hurt you Becks. I know this is strange but you have nothing to be afraid of, really,” he implores, his eyes searching mine.

  “I didn’t mean you, or us, or whatever, I meant all the other stuff.” Did I really just say ‘us’ as in, there’s an us? I decide to gloss right by that. “I’ve been, you know, almost dying a lot lately. And there’s other strange things happening. At first I thought it was my imagination but something was definitely wrong with Matt this morning and just now I saw this guy and his eyes were completely bleak-” and I sound crazy even to my own ears.

  Ephraim is looking at me with his liquid gold eyes and there is no trace of doubt or alarm in his face, “You’re safe with me. The Numina may keep trying to kill you, but I’m going to keep saving you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Besides, you’re not as easy to kill as you used to be. One of the fringe benefits of being ethereally bonded, you heal quickly and survive the impossible.” His tone is relaxed and self-assured. The urgent fear I’ve felt since this morning slips away, replaced with his calm confidence. I feel myself nod. His image fluctuates for a moment, like a ripple passing across the surface of a pond. “I’m with you. You’re safe with me,” he repeats.

  I take another deep breath of his scent and when I look up he’s gone. The space near me still feels the same though, earthy and sunlit. I think I can feel him, when he’s near me, even if I can’t always see him. I find myself a table and pulled out two chairs, one for him and one for me. We sit together while I pretend to study. My thoughts keep drifting between the feel of having him close to me and the blankness in Matt’s eyes this morning. My skin tingles and crawls by turns.

  At the bell, I thread my way through the stream of freshmen pouring out of the cafeteria. I step out of the path of traffic, searching for Mandy’s curls or Justin’s bright crop of hair. I hesitate and then take a step toward the ‘cool’ table. As I move a silent ripple travels through the room and eleven sets of very dark eyes glare out at me. Even surrounded by hundreds of students I can see each person clearly and I know that they are looking directly at me. Their pupils are huge and their skin has an unhealthy blue tint.

  I step backward, but their eyes don’t move with me. It’s then that I realize they are actually looking slightly beyond me, to my right. I back away again and again until I am standing outside the lunch room, beyond the doors.

  “Ephraim.” I hiss under my breath, even though he can’t answer me, “don’t follow me in.” I don’t wait for an answer, hoping he’s heard me. I steel myself and swing the doors back open. Everything seems completely normal. No unsettling eyes follow me; no strange intangible effects go off. I turn in a slow circle, trying to remember which faces seemed wrong to me before, but I can’t. I scrub my eyes and picked up a lunch tray. Is it all in my mind or just some of it? Is there any way to tell the difference?

  Carrying my tray to our usual table I do a double take, Justin and Mandy are not only seated at the table, they look like they are almost through eating. “There you are!” Mandy exclaims, “What’s with the late to lunch thing all the time now? You haven’t developed an eating disorder have you? because that’s a pretty cliché problem.” She goes on half chastising, half teasing me, and speaking more to the table than to me directly. She turns on Matt next, “I told you she was here today, honestly it’s like no one ever listens.”

  I look over at Matt, sitting across from my empty seat. He looks pale, and really serious. But otherwise he looks like himself. Brown eyes, wavy black hair, hard jaw. Maybe he’s just coming down with something. He gives me a tight smile, and turns away. Not that that’s surprising, since Paige is falling over herself, as usual, trying to get his attention.

  I slide into my seat and lean my shoulder into Justin, slightly. His body stiffens briefly with my contact and then relaxes, bumping my shoulder back in a small, playful way. Now that I have his attention I whisper in his ear, “Can you come over this afternoon? I need to talk to you,” I glance around the table and catch Matt`s intense gaze focused on me, “alone,” I add softly. Justin nods silently, his bright eyes shifting between Matt and me curiously.

  He is waiting outside my class at the end of the day. He falls easily into step next to Mandy and me, walking with us to the parking lot. Mandy drives a bright red Acura at speeds better measured in Machs than miles per hour. She’s generous with offers of rides but even before the accident, riding with her felt death defying. Matt’s music is loud but his driving is pretty tame.

  Justin steers me toward Mandy’s car. I grimace, sending him an imploring look when her back is turned. “Sorry, Matt’s busy so it’s Mandy, school bus or walk.” Justin says, holding the door open for me.

  “Walk!” I shoot back instantly.

  He shakes his head at me. “Again? After you ditched us this morning? When you’re supposed to be resting? Into the car please.”

  “Ditched you?” I protest. “I’m not the one who wouldn’t unlock the door and then left me standing in the dust on the side of the road.”

  Justin’s head snaps up, giving me his full attention. “Matt did what?” he asks. “He told me you weren’t coming.”

  I start to point out that I clearly came to school but Mandy pokes her head out of the window impatiently, “Can’t this conversation happen in the car? It’s not like you don’t spend enough time together or anything,” she snaps irritably.

  She’s definitely in a mood. I give Justin a meaningful look. “This conversation could happen on the bus,” I suggest. Justin shakes his head and points to the car.

  Mandy pops her head up again, glaring at me. “Come on Becka. It’s not like I’m going to kill you.” Justin gives her a look, which she doesn’t immediately understand. “What? What did I say? Oh! Sorry. I didn’t mean- Of course everyone understands why you’d be nervous in cars
now especially at night, or going fast, but that was a freak accident, nothing like that’s going to happen today. I’m a very safe driver. Listen, if it’ll make you feel better I’ll even stay near the speed limit.” Before she can say anything more horrifying I tuck myself into the car, checking the seat belt over and over to make sure it’s fastened. I’ll say this much for the drive home, at least it’s over quickly.

  “See, no need to be such a baby. You’ve got to get over it sometime right? Got you home safe and sound didn’t I? And in record time! There’s no way Matt could have beaten that! I’ll call you, maybe even stop by. K?” Mandy doesn’t wait for my answer, she guns the engine and one sonic boom later, she’s gone. I stare after her blankly.

  “Wow,” Justin says next to me, “Next time, school bus.” He grabs the hide-a-key from under the mail box and lets us in. “You really should just make me a key,” he adds, taking my backpack from me.

  After all the weirdness of the day, being with Justin feels amazingly normal. I relax a pinch and smile back at him. He closes the door behind us and heads for the kitchen. Fishing down a large bag of cookies and swiping two cans of soda from the fridge he turns to me, “Living room or deck for this conversation?”

  We end up in my bedroom, with the door firmly shut. With any other teenage boy, even Matt, a closed bedroom door is a first order taboo. But with Justin, Justin who camped by my bedside in the hospital, Justin who has been sleeping over since we were two, it’s just normal, comfortable even. He lays back against my pillow and looks appraisingly around the room. “Good to be home,” he says with a sigh, putting his arms behind his head. “I never feel entirely comfortable without cartoon ponies overhead, very soothing.”

  I shove his feet to the side and perched on the end of the bed. It would be great to just lounge here with Justin, making small talk, cracking jokes, watching bad TV, but I promised myself I’d tell someone about what was going on. “Justin?” His eyes flick over to me and I can see the deep concern in them that belies his flip, joking tone. I open my mouth and close it again helplessly. What exactly was I planning to say here?

  Justin taps me lightly with his feet, his bright eyes searching mine. I smile self-consciously and shrug, “I didn’t really plan what I was going to say. I want to talk to you, tell you everything but it’s like, completely impossibly to put it all into words, you know.”

  “Maybe,” Justin says slowly, “the stuff that you’ve been going through, the divorce, the accident, all of it, is the sort of thing you just need to talk about a little at a time.” He reaches a hand out and pulls me down next to him. I can feel the warmth of his shoulder seeping into me, a steady, pulsing comfort. We stare at the ponies in silence for awhile, just being near each other.

  “Alright,” I say at last, “Here goes. I’m not the same person I was before the accident. I feel different. I am different. Everything has changed and I don’t know what’s going on but it scares me.” I pause, sneaking a look over at Justin. He has picked himself up and is leaning on one elbow, watching and listening.

  “I think that’s normal, after what you’ve been through,” he says.

  I nod. He’s right, that much is normal. “I know, and if that was all I’d be counting my blessings and seizing the day and all that second chance at life stuff-”

  “Please don’t tell me you found God, because if you start making me go-”

  “It’s nothing like that. I mean, maybe it’s something like that but I can’t explain it. It’s just people keep saying it was a miracle I survived, that I’m so lucky, that I had a close call but I didn’t, have a close call. I didn’t nearly die-“

  “Becka, I saw you afterwards, you really did.”

  “Die. I died. I didn’t almost. It wasn’t a close call. It happened. I was all the way dead. Someone brought me back but it changed me.”

  Justin sits all the way up, turning his full attention on me as I talk. “Vivid near death experiences are common Becka. The doctors went over this with you. Remember? I was there. You asked about speaking to people in a white place, the doctors explained the effect of blood loss and oxygen deprivation on the brain. It’s straight forward science.”

  “Is it? When the doctors first spoke to my parents they told them I might not make it. Then they told them I’d survive but spend months in the hospital, then they told them my injuries weren’t as severe as they’d feared and I’d be home in a few months. And now? It’s barely a month later and do you want to know what I did last week? I walked all the way along the beach and back home again. How is all that possible?”

  Justin shrugs. “Easy. It’s one part the doctors being alarmist and assuming the worst and one part luck and a whole lot of you being healthy, young and strong.” He gives my hand a little squeeze. “Maybe we should start on that homework now. I don’t think it helps to obsess about this stuff. You lived and you’re recovering, that’s what matters.”

  I snatch my hand away from him, rolling up the cuff on my yoga pants as far as it will go. The skin underneath is smooth, white and perfect. “Look at this Justin. My whole leg was skinned, and all those scrapes have healed completely.” Justin just shakes his head. He doesn’t seem too impressed. I let the cuff drop slowly and stand. I half turn away from him and carefully peel the waist band down to show him the smooth raised scar on my thigh. “How about this then? It’s healed. That’s scar tissue, completely healed scar tissue. And don’t tell me I’m a fast healer, because no one heals this fast.”

  He touches the scar shyly, using just the tips of his fingers to brush over it. “It’s been over a month Becka, it’s quick but not impossible with good medical care, which you’ve had. Listen, I know how much you’ve been through and you probably want it to mean something important but sometimes these things just happen. You’re not different. You’re still the sweat, dreamy girl who climbs trees to talk to the sky. You just feel different right now. It will pass.”

  I lean away from the bright certainty of his gaze. It won’t do any good to tell him that a week ago my leg looked like chewed meat. He has a rational explanation and nothing is going to shake it loose. “Okay,” I sigh. At least I’d tried to tell him.

  “Math?” he prompts, swinging gracefully to his feet.

  I let him pull me to my feet, groaning. “Do I have to?”

  The rest of the evening, homework, pre-dinner snacks, dinner with my mom and Justin, watching TV with him, all feels surreal. When my parents were fighting, I used to call that the Justin Effect. It didn’t matter how crazy life got, when he was there everyone behaved and the universe acted like it was supposed to. Maybe that’s why I spent so much time with him growing up.

  The problem with the Justin Effect is that I can’t keep him with me all the time. Sooner or later he has to go home and then its craziness all over again. As soon as the door swing shut behind him, I sense Ephraim’s presence near me, warmer and stronger than ever before. I close my eyes and imagine him standing directly before me, hazel eyes laced with questions over all he’s seen and heard today. I try to block the feeling out but it persists and grows stronger until I’m racing up the stairs to my bedroom.

  “Ephraim?” I call. I wait, anxiously for him to appear. He felt so close a moment ago I’m sure he’ll just ripple into sight as soon as I call for him. I sit on my bed, idly swinging my feet. I wait until I’m fairly sure he isn’t going to appear suddenly and embarrassingly in front of me and then announce, “you better not be looking,” as I switch into one of my new PJ sets, a pair of long slinky grey pants with a lace trimmed lavender camisole. I open my journal and write, “Where are you?” across the top of the page.

  The ink seeps into the page immediately, right here. Ephraim lounges on my bed, arms behind his head, mirroring the pose Justin took a few hours ago. His image is opaque and solid enough to pass for real. His smile is broad and playful. “I thought he’d never leave.”

  “Nothing stopping you from dropping in while he was here, might help me eas
e up on the ‘am I crazy’ monologues.”

  Ephraim sighs, “I wish it was that easy. You’re just barely able to see me; I doubt I can make myself visible to him, yet. I’ve never tried this with anyone else. Wouldn’t it be unsettling for you to be talking to an apparition your boyfriend couldn’t see?”

  I blush, replaying the scene between Justin and me quickly in my head, the way it must have looked to Ephraim. We were all cozy, cuddly. Too cuddly, maybe, for who we are now, but it was an old habit, like holding onto a teddy bear when you have bad dreams. “He’s not my boyfriend. I mean, he’s a boy and my friend but there’s nothing else there you know?” The blush on my face deepens, giving me that candy coated look I hate so much.

  Ephraim raises an eyebrow, “Good to know. Come sit with me Becks?”

  Of all the inscrutable answers! Still, I can’t resist the little pleading tone in his voice, so I cross the room and perch on the edge of the bed, just as I did with Justin. But for some reason sitting here next to him is so much different than it was with Justin. It isn’t cozy or particularly calming. Mostly, it’s confusing. And even though I know his solid, life-like appearance is just an illusion, everything I sense and see contradicts that. I can smell his outdoorsy, wild scent. I can feel the warmth and the crackle of prickling energy coming off of him. I can hear him breathe and the rumble of his voice as we talk. I want so much to touch him, to convince myself that this amazing guy next to me is real, but I know better.

  He reaches over and doesn’t touch the light switch, but the lights go out, all the same. In the darkness he seems even more real. His soft voice is lulling me to sleep, even though I’m trying hard to focus on his words. “Will you come somewhere with me tonight?

  The world around us is an endless white mist. It’s so soundless that my ears feel stuffed with cotton and I strain to hear the slightest sound. Ephraim steps out of the mist coming into view, at first he’s hazy and then he resolves into tanned skin, smiling pink lips and deep hazel eyes. In this place the colour stands out so sharply I wonder how I look to him. What had Ephraim said, that I sparkled with life?