Oden

by Jessica Frances

  Her whole attitude has changed over the past year. When I first showed up at the house, there were the predictable tears and explanations needed, but what I found surprising was her hatred for Marduke. She took all of her anger over what happened and pinned it on him.

  I thought she would shame me over my decision to hide away, yet instead, she encouraged it. I hated that she felt that way about Marduke, but as long as she kept her mouth closed on the subject in front of Logan, then I kept my mouth shut, too. Eventually, she seemed to let things go, but a couple of weeks ago, she finally called me out on it.

  I recall the words we spoke, still feeling like I’m missing something about why it all came to a head with her.

  Hannah cornered me in our house, her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed at me. I knew straight away this wasn’t going to be a conversation I wanted to have.

  “Why did you turn down that hot teacher who asked you out?”

  I mirror her stance, annoyed that she’s bringing this up, again. “Why do you insist on sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?” I snap.

  “You’re my sister; your business is always my business,” she points out.

  “Well, in that case, who is this Brayden guy? And should I be giving you a safe sex ta—”

  “Hell no! Don’t even think about it!” Hannah yells, turning her back to me and rushing to the other end of the kitchen, as though, if she’s not directly in front of me, she’ll be able to hide from my words.

  I roll my eyes at her, my curiosity growing for the boy who has been hanging around Hannah a lot.

  “Is it because of Marduke?” Her voice is quiet because she knows what his name does to me. It stops my heart from beating, my breath catches, and for a moment that only lasts a split second—but feels like forever—I feel everything I don’t want to feel for him at once. If I’m standing when I hear his name, I have been known to collapse.

  “Is what because of him?” I breathe, the moment finally passing.

  “Did you turn that man down because you still love him?”

  I consider my answer. I know it’s obvious what the right answer is—I’ll never stop loving Marduke—but I feel like this question is loaded with more than she’s saying, and my simple answer might not be the correct one.

  “I’m not ready to move on, Hannah. I only lost Riley…” Tears immediately fall at the mention of his name. How can it still feel so raw? “A year ago.” I lost Marduke then, too.

  “I know, but isn’t it healthy to get back out there? Meet new people and maybe find new love? It doesn’t have to happen in a few dates, but maybe, eventually, you’ll fall in love again and things won’t hurt so much.”

  I take a deep breath. “It’s not so easy to do that. One day, sure,” I lie. “But not now. Besides, I have my hands full with you two, and I’m happy to keep it at that for now.”

  Hannah rolls her eyes, briefly distracted by my words. “Logan is the one who is going to cause you the most problems. How can a six-year-old already have a horde of girls following him?”

  “Well, to be fair, he’s a pretty cool kid. Add in that he’s American and sounds funny, and I guess that’s enough for a six-year-old girl.” I smile, thinking of the many girls that have made things for Logan or want to have play dates with him. He, of course, is completely clueless to it all.

  One of the first things to get organised in this area was the primary school and day-care facilities. It was important to get the children back to a routine similar to before the invasion, and the kids all love going to school now. Teachers and volunteers help out, and Logan can’t wait to get there every morning.

  “So back to… him. Do you miss him?”

  I sigh, my shoulder slumping with the realisation she isn’t going to let this go. I sit down on a stool, resigned to the talk.

  “Of course I do.”

  “What would you do if you could see him again? Would you give him another shot?”

  “He’s back on Oden, Hannah. Back to his own life. For all I know, he’s married with a kid by now.” The words cut me worse than I’ve thought they would. I have no right to feel jealous or upset by that. He’s not from my world, and after what we went through together, I understand his need to leave here and make a new life for himself. Just because I couldn’t consider doing the same, doesn’t mean he couldn’t.

  “What if he wasn’t married, though? What if he hated life without you? What if he never let you go?”

  “Hannah, why do you care? I thought you hated him?”

  “I do hate him; he almost got you killed and broke your heart,” she says softly, sitting back down beside me.

  “So what has brought this up?”

  She shrugs. “Like you said, it’s almost been a year, and Logan has settled in at school and has made loads of friends. I’ve reconnected with a lot of my friends and Brayden… he’s a good friend,” she quickly says, totally slipping up by mentioning him at all. “But you haven’t really moved on at all since you came back. You mostly stay at home or at the park. You’ll read to Logan when he asks, and you’ll listen to me whine, but you don’t engage at all. A hot man asks you out, and with your schedule wide open, you turn him down. Aren’t you lonely?”

  “No, I’m not. I have you guys most of the time, and I value my time alone. I’m still healing, Hannah, and distracting myself with another man isn’t going to change that. I became someone else when the invasion hit us, someone I had to be because of the circumstances we were forced into. I’m not saying I hated who I became, but right now, I’m stuck between her and who I used to be. I just need to find out who I am on my own. No world ending, no threats of death or pain, and no men distracting me.”

  “That’s noble and all, but you’ve had a year for that. Making new friends will always shape you. That isn’t a bad thing.”

  “Please, Hannah, just drop it.”

  She nods, but I see the mischievous glint in her eyes. “You know, I think I do want to have the sex talk with you.”

  “What?” I gape. “Are you and Brayden…? Are you guys going to—?”

  “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I want to have the alien sex talk. You never did tell me about that. What is it like? Did he glow purple or something?”

  “Hannah!”

  “Oh, my God, he did glow purple, didn’t he? Ew, that is so gross!”

  “He did not glow purple!” I shout, my face reddening from embarrassment.

  “Okay, so it was a different colour, then. What was the sex like? Over in a few seconds or drawn out? Did he just have one penis, or was there a hidden one that came out to play when—?”

  “Right, I think it’s time I spoke to Brayden about the birds and the bees. That won’t be too awkward for you, right? Having your sister talking to your good friend about sex? I wonder if I should take a banana to show him how to put on a—”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” Hannah cries, her mischievous glint disappearing behind her panic.

  “Oh, I would,” I threaten.

  Thankfully, she backs away from asking me about sex with Marduke.

  Truthfully, I haven’t felt even any inclination of interest in any man I’ve met since the invasion. Sometimes, I’ll talk to someone new and realise partway through the conversation that I have obviously already met them before. My mind has a one-track lane when it comes to men, and it always leads to Marduke. I try to remind myself that he hates me, there is too much history between us, and it would do me good to try to move on, but I haven’t succeeded in doing that, yet. Maybe one day, however I somehow think Marduke might have been it for me, and I don’t even feel sad about that. I lost too much when I fell in love with him. I won’t ever be able to give myself over to another man.

  When Hannah distracts me by asking what is for dinner, I welcome the safe topic.

  Hannah and I had never gotten along growing up, and we didn’t even really get along when I lived in America. Our Skype chats always ended with one of us annoyed. Mu
m would love to see us getting along so well now. Well, at least getting along better than ever before.

  Another familiar pang hits me when I think about my parents. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I haven’t thought about them. After all, living in the house is a constant reminder. Although, I do feel like I’m getting better at managing that grief. Hannah and I talk about them all the time, and Logan calls them Mum and Dad because he’s used to us calling them that.

  I’ve asked Logan to tell me as much as he can remember about his dad because I know his memories will begin to fade as he grows older, and I don’t want that. Using the internet, I was able to find a couple of local news articles on him from his hometown and one had a photo of him in his uniform. Having lost the photos I took from his home back in America, I printed this one from the internet out, and he’s currently on our wall of photos.

  While my grief over my parents has felt like I’m beginning to accept it and heal, my loss over Riley hasn’t. I think part of it is because no one understands my pain. No one met Riley. No one was able to connect to him because he wasn’t born yet. But I connected to him. I loved him, and he was as much a part of my life as he would have been had he been born. I lost a son and people think it’s okay because he wasn’t born. They think a miscarriage is just part of life and an easier pain to live with than losing a child or person who spoke and you could feel and touch with your eyes and hands.

  No one understands, not really. I didn’t even really have a miscarriage. Jeprow murdered Riley, and I won’t ever accept that.

  I wipe away my stray tears, my phone bringing me away from my thoughts as it beeps loudly into the quiet night air. I pull it out of my pocket, finding a text message from Hannah.

  Hannah: Logan sleeping over at Jeremy’s house. I’m staying over at Lorie’s place. See you tomorrow.

  I frown at her words, not recalling if she had mentioned any of this earlier and was just reminding me. She often has friends staying over, but she hasn’t slept outside of her bedroom once since returning.

  I feel suspicious, and wish I knew Brayden’s address in order to check to see if she is actually staying with him and not at Lorie’s. I worry over what might happen if she and Brayden do take things to the next level. Lately, I keep finding myself stepping into my parents’ roles. I often nag at Hannah and Logan over taking a coat when it’s cold out, or making sure Logan eats all his vegetables and not just hides them under his leftover mashed potatoes. Right now, I want to step into my dad’s shoes, scare the crap out of Brayden, and tell him, if he ever treats Hannah badly, I’ll string him up by his balls and beat the shit out of him. Too much?

  Mattie: If I find out you’re really at Brayden’s house, I’m going to interrupt your next class to loudly announce you forgot to pack a tampon in your bag.

  Hannah: Bitch, I would kill you. I’m not with Brayden. Get off my case.

  I put my phone away, contemplating walking home via Lorie’s place to double check she’s really there. Then I remind myself that Hannah is seventeen, and I’m not Mum or Dad. I need to get a grip.

  I head back home, the darkness feeling eerie now. I’m so cold I’m shivering, therefore I run to warm up, making it to the house out of breath when my phone rings again.

  I look down at it to see Lisa’s name pop up. She’s been calling a lot lately since Hank proposed. She wants my opinion on everything, and doesn’t seem to realise that I have no clue about anything to do with weddings. Things between us were tense for a while, but to be fair, she never gave up. She continued calling and talking to me constantly until the weirdness left our friendship and things began to feel like they used to between us.

  “Hi,” I huff, moving straight to the fridge and taking out a bottle of water.

  “Guess what! Guess what!” Lisa screams in my ear. I have to hold the phone away to stop myself from getting permanent hearing damage.

  “You finally decided on how you want your hair for the wedding?” I guess, recalling three separate conversations on that discussion.

  “Are you kidding? No way. I’ve been thinking, now I might do it up in this braid where the hairdresser would—”

  “Stop! What did you actually call me about?” I do not want to make this a fourth conversation about her hair.

  “Oh, right. I’m pregnant!” she screeches, and I swear my neighbours most likely heard her, too.

  “Wow, congratulations!” I tell her, feeling shell-shocked.

  “It was totally unplanned, but Hank was so excited when he found out. He picked me up and ran around the house with me, screaming out the good news,” she says with laughter in her voice.

  “I’m so happy for you guys.” I hope I sound it. I’m not sure I feel anything except shock and a grief hitting me again.

  “I know you were going to try to come here for the wedding, but we might push that back now. You’ll come when I have the baby, though, won’t you?”

  “Of course, I’ll book myself on the first flight.” My voice cracks. Oh, no, I have to get off this call right now. “Listen, pass on my love to Hank, but I have to go now. Logan needs me to help him with something, so I’ll call you again soon.”

  “Okay, I hope everything is all right with you.” Her voice is quiet. I know she’s aware I’m lying.

  “It’s great, thanks, Lisa. Bye.”

  I quickly hang up and take deep breaths. Tears well in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. This is good news, and if I’m at all a good friend, then I won’t let my own grief ruin this news. Because I am happy for Lisa, I truly am. Lisa and Hank are perfect together, and from what I’ve gathered from our conversations, since they reconnected in New Zealand last year, everything has been picture-perfect. They deserve it, too. They both went through hell, and now they get their happy ending.

  I’ve got nine months to get over feeling so selfish. Will seeing Lisa and Hank happy with their child kill me a little? Yes, but I can suck it up and be happy for them.

  The world is moving on. Just because I’m frozen in mourning doesn’t mean I can’t also be happy for my friends and be around babies. They’re not evil.

  With tears still blurring my eyesight, I decide a shower will help me to feel better. I don’t bother grabbing fresh clothes, deciding I might as well enjoy having the house to myself. This will be the first time since I came home that I have been alone.

  Stripping off my clothes, I hop into the shower and let my tears out there. At least I don’t have to hear them in here and can lie to myself and say it’s just the water from the shower.

  I don’t stay in too long, feeling itchy and claustrophobic. Afterward, I grab a towel and consider going for another run instead of sitting in this quiet house alone. My thoughts always calm when I’m running. I can exhaust myself to the point I won’t lie in bed, letting my mind wander. That’s always the worst part of the day for me.

  I step into my room and head towards my drawers, pulling out fresh underwear and a sports bra. It’s not completely insane to have a shower before a run, right?

  A throat clearing behind me scares me to death, and since it’s so dark in here, all I can see is a silhouette of a man sitting on my bed.

  I scream, afraid that, not only has a man broken into my house, but he has found me in the compromising position of being almost naked.

  I grab the basketball resting on top of my dresser, one that I have covered in professional basketball players autographs, and ditch it at the man. He holds his arms out, seemingly surprised by the attack, and I take his distracted state and run.

  I make it out into the lightened hallway when he calls my name and I freeze in place.

  I could have sworn… Was that actually…? It’s not possible, right?

  “Mattie, please wait!” Marduke’s voice pleads. Without turning around, I know he’s standing behind me. I feel him there.

  “What are you…? How are you…?” I splutter, slowly facing him and dragging my eyes from his legs, up his chest, and l
anding over his handsome face. Was he always this good looking?

  “I thought you were dead,” he says, neither sounding pleased that I’m not, nor accusatory that I’ve lied to him by omission.

  “I thought you were on Oden,” I reply, my voice sounding weak. I grip the towel around me tightly, my movement bringing his eyes down to my hands and then the rest of me. I watch him visually gulp, and for whatever reason, his gaze warms me, as though his eyes have the power to send heat through me wherever they land.

  I’ve been numb to anyone’s advances, touches, and flirting, but with one look from Marduke, I’m turned on. What the hell?

  “I was, but Hannah called for me.”

  “She what?” I gasp, my grip forgotten for a moment and I almost lose the towel entirely.

  As Marduke turns his head, giving me a profile view of his face, I fear it’s because he’s disgusted by me. Does he hate me that much?

  “I gave her a way to contact me if she needed help. I didn’t want to leave her and Logan here without a way to get in touch. She’s not used it once, but a week ago, she activated it. I came straight away, but as you know, we don’t exactly live the closest…” He trails off, and after a deep breath, turns to look at me again.

  Inside, I curse Hannah. Both for having a way to contact Marduke the entire time and not telling me, and because she gave me no notice that he was coming. I sure as hell wouldn’t be standing naked with just a towel wrapped around me if I knew he was going to be here.

  “So this is why she and Logan are out for the night?” I say, more to myself than to him.

  “She was here when I arrived. She explained that she still didn’t like me, but she was worried about you. She thought you were stuck in your grieving process and needed help. I almost thought she was lying to me, trying to hurt me by telling me you were still alive, but then Logan confirmed it.

  “What happened to you? I searched for you in the water. I… I couldn’t find you. How did you survive it?”