by Lisa Graves
“I think I’d better go,” he said to my surprise. “I don’t want to push my luck again today. Maybe I can come back later?” He was already opening the glass and starting to climb out the window.
As instantaneous as if a brick was just chucked at my head and I dodged out of the way, I realized something. I lunged off the bed at Nicholas and pulled him back into my room with such force he landed on the floor. I slammed shut the window, and closed the blinds.
Nicholas looked up at me from the floor, where I’d left him. “If you wanted me to stay Lil, you could just ask.” He winked. As he went to stand up he added, “What was all that about?”
I only had to say one word for him to understand. “Charlotte.” I said as I sat on my bed.
“Yeah. . . I meant to ask you about that. What’s her problem anyway?”
“The problem is she was just downstairs. If she sees you leave here now. . .Ugh!” My hands grabbed tufts of my spikes in frustration. I wanted so badly for Nicholas to leave so I could try and talk to Elliott with the camera again, but I couldn’t have him leave the house right now. It looked bad, and Charlotte wouldn’t believe the truth.
“If I’m not allowed to leave,” he paused and looked at me, “not that I mind.” He winked at me again. “Will you at least tell me why? You know, besides the obvious you-want-my-body reason.”
He wished.
I teased back. “Well besides that. . .” I took a deep breath and sighed. He should know. “Charlotte likes you.”
Nicholas looked confused. “I like her too,” he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
I couldn’t believe he still didn’t get it.
“Nicholas.”
“Lilly.” He mocked the serious tone I took with him.
“Charlotte. . .”
“Yeah.”
“Like likes you.” I winked.
Nicholas laughed. “You’re lying. Since when?”
Could he be serious? “Since forever.” From the look he gave me I could see I was going to have to narrow it down for him. “Since she quit being able to talk to you.”
He sat down next to me on the bed. I could tell he was thinking. Nicholas looked down at me. “It’s been so long since she could talk to me. I’d guess at least a year.”
“Exactly.” Good. The lightbulb was turning on.
We were quiet again. I could see that he was incorporating this newfound information into the day’s series of events. He scooted closer to me. “This doesn’t change how I feel Lilly. . . about you I mean.”
So much for Nicholas not wanting to push it.
“Yeah, but do you see my predicament?” My eyebrows raised.
“Is this why you don’t want to be my girlfriend?”
I shut my eyes. Deep breaths Lilly. Deep breaths. Was he being serious right now? I just wanted him to go home. I wanted to be alone. No, I wanted to be with Elliott. “We aren’t doing this again today Nicholas.” I opened my eyes and looked at him.
He dropped his eyes to the floor. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“You can’t! Charlotte will see you.”
“Lilly. You don’t want me here. You don’t want me to leave. What do you want me to do?”
Freak. I was running out of options. I decided to try and diffuse the situation. “You said earlier it was okay for us to be just friends, right?”
“Yeah. But please let me know if you change your mind.” Nicholas winked at me.
“You’ll be the first to know.” I said in a teasing tone, simultaneously shooting him with my finger pistol. “But while we’re waiting for hell to freeze over, will you please text Charlotte and tell her to meet you somewhere so you can leave?”
“Sure.” Nicholas paused. “If I can come over later.” His eyes met mine, sizing me up. Pushing his luck, more like it.
I just wanted to get him out of my house, and he was trying to make sure he could get back in. I rolled my eyes and made sure he saw it. “Sure. You can come over later.” I looked him in the eyes as I added, “as friends. Will you leave now?”
Nicholas pulled his phone from his pocket, punched some keys, closed it, and looked at me. “When do you want me to come over?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Whenever. Just later.”
Beep. Beep. He looked at his phone. “Mission accomplished. Charlotte’s on her way to meet me for ice cream. Guess I can go now.” He hesitated for a hug as he started to walk towards my window.
“Give me a hug, Nicholas Hoe.”
My habit of hugging Nicholas was well ingrained. I really hoped it didn’t give him the wrong idea. The same happy-as-a-clam smile from this morning crossed his face as he took the three necessary steps to give me a hug. Why did Nicholas have to be so difficult? He then left to meet Charlotte, grinning from ear to ear.
“Be nice.” I called after him as he shimmied down my rooftop.
I waited for him to get to the street before I closed my window, and then the blinds. I checked the lock on my door. I wanted to make sure I had no interruptions. I fished the camera out from under my bed before crawling under the covers with my journal and pen; hoping that the weird camera conversation would work again.
I opened the red tattered edges of my journal and saw the questions I had asked earlier. Turning the page to a clean sheet, and crossing my heart, I clicked my pen and started writing.
Elliott, are you there?
I turned the camera on and set it to take a picture. Click. View.
Elliott, are you there? Yes.
I sighed with relief that I still had a way to talk to him, since he said he couldn’t keep coming to me. I was so excited my heart skipped a beat. I had so many things I wanted to ask him. I started with the most important.
When will I see you again?
Click. View.
When will I see you again? I don’t know. But I’m working on it Miele.
My heart seemed to sink a little deeper into my chest at his response. Even though I already knew the answer, I was hoping for a different one.
Is there anything I can do?
Click. View.
Is there anything I can do? Yes.
My heart started to race again. I tried, futilely, to not get my hopes up as I quickly wrote,
What?
Click. View.
What? You can wear the ring.
I looked down at my left hand. How could me wearing a ring possibly help anything? I decided to ask.
I will wear it. Actually it won’t come off, but how will that help?
Click. View.
I will wear it. Actually it won’t come off, but how will that help?
I told you before, how in the underground lake you told me you felt a connection to opals, let me tell you more about it. Please turn the paper over and start a new page. This will take some room.
I turned the page quickly and wrote,
Okay.
Click. View.
Okay.
You gave me an opal that first day we met. And when we were in the suttosuolo lake you said you felt a connection with them. Well, after you left me in the Piazza, and I went to work for the day, I got to thinking. I realized I must have felt a connection with the opal too, since I had followed that strange sensation to the abandoned home and found you.
The page was full. I eagerly turned the page and wrote quickly at the top.
Go on.
Click. View.
Go on.
Well, that night is when I decided to make you the ring that’s on your finger.
You made it?
Click. View.
You made it?
Yes. The stone you had given me was a perfect little bean. I spent the whole night at my friend Leonardo’s working out a way to make it into a ring. Leonardo was apprenticing to become a jeweler and was happy to help me. We decided that we were going to split the opal in half and make sister rings.
Sister rings? I looked down at the ring again. I liked it even more now that I knew Elliot
t hadn’t just given it to me, but his strong, perfect, muscular hands actually made it. It seemed to solidify some of my theory’s about him. He was becoming more real to me. I tried not to think about the fact that I was communicating with him via a camera. It would hurt my theory.
I was still looking at his reply on the camera screen when I realized he had said “sister rings.”
Who has the other ring?
Click. View.
Who has the other ring?
I do.
I sat there moving my eyes back and forth from the camera to my ring. Was there really another half to the most beautiful ring ever made? And could the sister rings be part of the reason I felt such a draw to Elliott. No, there had to be something more, I decided. There was something magnetic about him, and it had to be more than just the rings.
The air conditioner clicked on. I popped my head out from under the blanket and a rush of cool air hit my face. I instinctively wrapped the quilt tighter around me as I leaned up against my wall. I had so many things to ask Elliott, but I really wanted to ask him in person. I wanted to hear the honey texture of his accent colored words. I wanted to feel the electricity pulse from him to me. I wanted to swim in his hazel green eyes again. And since he didn’t know when he would be able to come back, I would have to wait.
Then I realized he hadn’t finished answering my question. I turned to a fresh page and wrote,
So, how does me wearing the ring help?
Click. View.
So, how does me wearing the ring help?
You and I have a connection that goes back centuries, but the rings just help us find each other more quickly when we are far apart. If you keep wearing it, then when I am able to come back, I will be able to come right to you my love.
I leaned deeper into the pillows behind me. I drew my left hand up to my mouth and kissed the ring. I was never going to take it off for as long as I lived. I took a deep breath and realized Elliott scent lingered faintly in the fabric of my hoodie. I smiled as I absorbed the floral smell. A question entered my mind that couldn’t wait until I saw him in person again.
I wanted to know where he went when he wasn’t with me. I figured it couldn’t be far, since he seemed to appear and disappear out of thin air. But when he talked of going away, his tone made it sound like a journey.
Where are you Elliott?
Click. View.
Where are you Elliott?
What the. . . I hurried and scrawled,
Elliott, I didn’t get that. It just looks like a pen broke. Are you okay?
Click. View.
Elliott, I didn’t get that. It just looks like a pen broke. Are you okay?
Yes. I’m fine. But I have to go for now. I’ll see you as soon as I can Miele. Ciao.
“No. Please don’t go,” I said to the camera, momentarily forgetting he couldn’t hear me.
I quickly scrawled,
Please don’t go Elliott.
Click. View.
Please don’t go Elliott.
There was no reply. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. I clicked back to the ink covered photo, and a chill ran down my spine. Was I seeing things, or was there something hidden in the spatter?
All I knew was something had happened. I was sure of it. And I was helpless. I had no idea where to even begin looking for Elliott, or what I could do to help. But Elliott was a part of me, and somehow I would have to find a way for us to be together. As I stewed in my predicament, I noticed something strange about the ink spots in the photo. I zoomed in and saw,
Atlantis: Water is the key.
Chapter 10. The Key
Water is the key, I thought the words that were hidden in the ink splatter. Does it really say that? How can it possibly say that? And what does it mean? I lay there in the dimming light of my room, thinking.
Sooner than I would have thought possible, it was night. Light was no longer fighting to get through the cracks in the closed blinds of my window, a light grey glow filled the room. Glancing quickly at my clock I realized it was 9:17. My mom and Sophie would be coming home tomorrow. I vaguely hoped that Nicholas was able to calm Charlotte down to a reasonable level. I didn’t want her ratting me out to my mother about Elliott. Real or imaginary, I could feel it in the core of my being that we were meant to be together. Reality was just going to have to mould around that fact.
I looked at the camera screen again. Yep, there was no doubt in my mind that there, hidden in the black ink it said, water is the key. The more I looked at it the clearer it became. I lay there staring at my ceiling, trying to make some sense out of it.
The worry I felt for Elliott crept into my mind like a sneaky little spider assessing the best places to weave its web of doubt. What could have happened, wherever he was, that made him have to end our conversation so abruptly? It wasn’t like him. Actually, it kind of was.
Elliott seemed to constantly be disappearing on me. Why was this any different? The spider kept spinning its web. I couldn’t tell why, but it was different. Something was wrong and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I realized my teeth were chewing on my bottom lip. I was going to have to calm down, but how?
“Water is the key,” I whispered into the shadowy room. “The key to what?”
I got up off my bed and went down to the kitchen to find something to snack on. I wasn’t necessarily hungry, I just needed something to do. Maybe if I ate something I would quit using my lip as bubblegum. With each step I took down the stairs, I repeated “water-is-the-key, water-is-the-key.” I kept coming up blank. What could it mean? I bit my lip in frustration, again. The damn spider kept spinning. I needed to get control of my thoughts. The race they were running was wearing me out, quickly.
I absentmindedly opened the fridge, then cabinets, then pantry, looking for nothing in-particular; solitude wasn’t helping. The marathon that was taking place in my head was taking its toll on my energy level. Not that that was a difficult thing to do.
I still wasn’t sleeping like a normal person. Not that I could fool myself into thinking I was normal. Not with Charlotte constantly advertising my oddities, and Nicholas praising them. But sleep would be nice.
Even when I thought I was sleeping these days, I wasn’t so sure. Whenever I woke up, most of my dreams had seemed so real that I don’t think I was getting any quality amount of rest. At least my nightmares had been replaced with fantasies. A step in the right direction. I think. Though my fantasies seemed to be coming to life.
Elliott was too perfect to be anything but an illusion. His chiseled features, chocolate hair, and hazel green eyes were a sight I could stare at for hours. The honey texture of his voice, and the addicting scent of his skin, pushed the boundaries of any reality I knew. Especially the part of him liking me back.
I shut the last cupboard in the kitchen and tried to quit thinking. My mind wouldn’t shut up. I wished I could shut it closed as easy as I did the cabinet.
It would be nice when my mom got home. I wasn’t much good at foraging for myself. If the fridge hadn’t been stocked with leftovers and the pantry stocked with Pop-Tarts, I probably would have starved. As it was, nothing caught my attention. I didn’t really feel like eating anyway. Instead I decided to go back upstairs and try to relax. Really clear my head.
Perhaps a bath would help, I thought as my feet hit the landing. I changed course from my room and headed towards the bathroom. The vanilla scented air freshener my mom had plugged in the bathroom outlet smelled comforting, calming even. I turned the water on and let it run warm before I plugged up the drain and poured in some vanilla scented bubble bath. My mom really likes the smell of vanilla.
I left the water running, filling up the tub, and went to my room to get some candles and my inflatable pillow. I was determined to relax if it was the last thing I did. Robed and slippered, I walked back into the steam filled bathroom with my relaxation equipment. But as the steam hit my face, my heart raced as I remembered yesterday’s show
er and the strange, yet familiar, face in the foggy mirror.
Thud. Thud. Thud. My heart nearly bounded out of my chest. Deep breaths Lil. Calm down. It was nothing. It is nothing. I couldn’t help but notice that if I turned my head a little to the right I would be looking into that same fogged up mirror. Don’t do it. You’ll just freak yourself out, I told myself. I realized my breathing was quick and shallow. There’s nothing there anyway. Don’t let the eerie silence of the house get to you.
My feet felt like they were weighted down with lead rather than the fuzzy grey slippers that were usually light as a feather. The water continued to run in the background of my thoughts. I looked down towards the tub and realized it was nearly overflowing with bubbles. I may have accidently poured in a bit too much. Whoops.
I lurched my body forward, now with a more convincing motive to move, and quickly turned off the faucet. I lit the three cream colored mason jar candles, hit the lights, and slipped into the warm waiting water; I was sure to stay out of view of the mirror, just in case.
Sinking my body deep into the bubbles, the water had an immediate effect on my thoughts. The race was called off. The spider had gone. I laid back on my pillow and watched the dance of the flames. Thinking of nothing. Maybe water really was the key, the key to calming down.
The heat of the water radiated deep, penetrating my muscles, forcing them to relax. To let go. All of the stresses, and worries, of the last three days melted away. My eyes closed without my permission, I was so comfortable.
I fought to keep them open. I knew it wasn’t safe to sleep in a bathtub, but my body won that fight. I must be getting less sleep than I thought. My eyelids fluttered open a few more times before I lost the battle.
When I opened my eyes, I was walking barefoot down a damp cobblestone road. It was dark. A torch I held in my hand lit the way. I could see my opal on my hand glitter in the flame light. I brushed my long black hair from my face. Although in my head the surroundings were strange and foreign, my instincts knew this place from long ago. I was fairly certain it was long ago. I walked as though I knew where I was going. Under stone archways, through hidden passageways; right, right, then left, I walked through the tunnels.