by Suzi Davis
In art class that afternoon, I sat and sketched him as he had his back to me – his strong shoulders, his slim yet muscular back, his dark, messy hair. It was my last class of the day so I didn’t even try to approach him. I didn’t want to ruin my last few moments with him before Winter Break, even if he was ignoring me. And so I sat and stared at his back in pathetic silence, memorizing every detail of him that I could capture until the bell abruptly rang and as a crowd of students between us rose from their chairs, he disappeared. A miserable lump began to rise in my throat.
“So did you want to follow me to my house? You can leave your car there and we’ll go do something,” Clarke suggested after school. He was walking me to my car, a habit he’d developed over the past few days and I simply hadn’t had the heart to discourage him. It was nice to know that someone wanted to be near me, even if it was a self-absorbed, conceited jerk like Clarke. No, that wasn’t fair, I scolded myself. Clarke had actually been a fairly good friend lately, a lot better than some.
“Follow you to your house? Why?” I hadn’t been listening to what he was talking about. Surprisingly, it didn’t seem to bother him that I was so distant. He seemed happy enough that I was accepting his company again.
“We made plans to hang out before dinner tonight, remember?”
“Oh…” I frowned, I’d almost forgotten. “I guess so,” I answered reluctantly. I felt a fresh wave of sadness as I remembered that I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I pulled my keys out of my pocket, fiddling with them as we approached my car.
“It’ll be fun, Gracie. I’ll entertain you,” Clarke offered, grinning down at me.
“Sure.” I couldn’t quite muster any enthusiasm. Clarke tsked in exasperation. He grabbed my arm, abruptly turning me towards him.
“Grace, I don’t know what happened with you and your friend, but whatever he did to make you this upset – I’ll make him pay for it,” Clarke declared passionately, flexing his hands into fists as he spoke. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, a habit I’d picked up from Sebastian.
“Don’t worry about it Clarke. Leave Sebastian alone.” I scowled as I said his name, turning back towards my car to unlock the driver’s side door.
“Well, I guess there’s not much point in teaching him a lesson now anyway. He’ll be gone soon and he won’t be coming back next semester, right?”
“What?” I spun around, my keys clattering to the icy asphalt. Clarke eyed me uncertainly.
“He’s getting transferred to a different foster home, isn’t he? I just assumed his new foster family wouldn’t want to foot the bill for Craigflower…” he trailed off anxiously. “Grace, are you okay?”
“Where did you hear that?” I demanded.
“Uh…” he struggled to remember, obviously thrown off by my sudden intensity. “I think Cadence told me… yeah, that’s right. Cadence’s dad ran into Mr. Jenson at the court house and he told him that Sebastian was being placed with a different family. Cadence was talking about it at lunch today, weren’t you listening?” I ignored his last comment as I quickly bent to scoop up my keys, barely noticing the pain as I scraped my knuckles against the ground. I rushed to unlock my car, threw myself into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. Clarke knocked on the glass as I fired up the engine, his expression one of confusion.
“Grace, what’s wrong?” he yelled through the window. I ignored him, throwing the shifter into reverse and slamming my foot down on the gas. I nearly hit another car; one of my classmates held down their horn as I peeled off in front of them.
My brain was on overload as I sped away from Craigflower. I knew I shouldn’t be driving when I was so worked up like this but what choice did I have? Sebastian was leaving and he wasn’t even going to tell me? He wasn’t even going to say goodbye? I didn’t think so. This had gone on long enough.
Luckily I’d dropped Sebastian off at the Jensons’ place several times. I found it easily enough today. I was surprised though when no strange disasters impeded or detoured me on my way to his house. The Jensons lived in a nice, Victorian-style home in Oak Bay. It was a fairly stylish neighborhood, expensive but not overly elite or ostentatious like where I lived. I’d never been further than the end of their driveway before but today I pulled all the way up to their house, parking right behind Sebastian’s motorcycle without hesitation. Good – he’s here, I thought. There’d be no avoiding me this time. I’d sit out in his driveway in protest if I had to, until he came out and talked to me. Of course, first I was going to try the more rational method of knocking on the front door.
I hurried impatiently along the paving stone path that led up to the Jensons’ house. There was a large, brass knocker on the front door, the style well-suited to the old-fashioned home. I rapped the knocker three times, fighting the urge to tap my foot impatiently as I waited. Within a few seconds, I heard the creaks of original hard-wood flooring announce the arrival of someone on the other side. The door squeaked as it slowly opened to reveal Mr. Jenson himself, a small smile on his face that was polite if not entirely welcoming.
“Hello, Grace,” he greeted me uncertainly.
“Hello, Mr. Jenson. I’ve come to see Sebastian,” I announced, as if it weren’t obvious.
“Yes, well, unfortunately he’s not available.” Mr. Jenson looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“That’s alright, I’ll wait until he is,” I firmly answered, stubbornly folding my arms across my chest. Mr. Jenson sighed.
“I’m sorry, Grace, but Sebastian would prefer not to speak with you at this time. Now please, I’m going to have to ask you to leave or else I’ll have no choice but to call your father,” he told me reluctantly. I almost felt badly for Mr. Jenson. That was another thing I wanted to ask Sebastian about; how exactly did he make the Jensons do what he wanted when he claimed he had no conscious control over others’ thoughts or actions? I had a strong hunch that they knew a lot more about Sebastian than I did.
“Sebastian needs to talk to me; he owes me answers,” I insisted.
“I’m sorry, Grace.” Mr. Jenson started to close the door.
“My hair has stopped growing,” I blurted out desperately. Mr. Jenson froze, the door halfway closed. He stared at me with his large, dull brown eyes. He looked tired. “It hasn’t grown since I met him,” I continued in a rush. “Please, I just need to talk to him.”
Mr. Jenson studied me wearily, his expression unreadable. The seconds dragged by as he silently debated. His expression never changed as he slowly stepped back and held the door open.
“He’s upstairs. Second door on the right,” he instructed quietly, gesturing to a beautifully restored, carved staircase behind him. I could hardly believe my luck.
“Thank you,” I whispered gratefully as I slipped past him and hurried into the house, taking the stairs two at a time. I hadn’t been within ten feet of Sebastian in days. No matter how angry or confused or hurt I was by him, I still felt nervous butterflies in my stomach as I walked down the sparsely decorated hall at the top of the stairs. I paused in front of the second door on the right debating whether I should knock or just go in? Just go in, I decided. I didn’t owe him any courtesies, not after the way he’d been treating me lately. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and then pushed the door open.
The room I entered was obviously his; his distinct taste was evident in every aspect. It was a large room, with little in the way of furniture. There was a double, four post bed with dark linens on it, a small writing desk, and two tall bookcases, filled with books and curious objects. The walls were light gray and completely bare, except for the wall over his bed where a familiar dark design in pen and ink, twisted across a piece of wrinkled, white drawing paper that had been carefully tacked to the wall; I felt a flicker of surprise as I recognized my drawing. My eyes moved on to the large, paned window with heavy curtains draped to each side where Sebastian stood with his back to me. Just the sight of his dark silhouette made my pulse quicken, the pain in my heart instantly eas
ed by his presence. He spun around at the sound of his bedroom door opening, his eyes widening in surprise and disbelief when he saw me walk in.
“Gracelynn,” he gasped. A small thrill of pleasure ran through me at hearing him say my name again. “…how?” he struggled, obviously trying to recover his composure.
“Apparently you wanted to see me before you left,” I remarked wryly. I calmly walked into his room, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. I was pleased with how nonchalant I sounded even though my heart was now pounding in my throat.
“Apparently,” he murmured, looking thoughtful. He crossed the room and quietly closed his bedroom door. He turned back to me slowly, warily, his back pressed up against the door. “How did you get in?” His expression was neutral once more but there was a small sparkle of curiosity in his eyes. That little sparkle gave me hope.
“I knocked on the front door.”
“You know that’s not what I meant. How did you convince Don to let you in?”
“Mr. Jenson?” I asked, innocently. Sebastian gave one curt nod. “I told him I needed to talk to you about why my hair hasn’t grown since I met you,” I said in a quiet, even voice though my hands trembled slightly as I spoke. I squeezed them tightly together in my lap, waiting tersely for his reaction.
“I suppose that would have gotten his attention.” For a moment, I thought I saw a smile twitch on his lips but then he was serious once more. “I’m sorry, Gracelynn. Your hair is already growing again now though – you’ll notice it even more after I’ve gone,” he reassured me. I stared at him in disbelief.
“Sebastian, you kiss me, then completely avoid and ignore me and now you’re planning on leaving me altogether – and you think I’m worried about my hair?” I demanded incredulously. “Do you really think I’m that shallow? That superficial?” He stood frozen in place by the door, looking completely perplexed and concerned by my vehement reaction.
“Of course I don’t think that but… haven’t you wondered what it means? You obviously know I’m to blame, aren’t you curious as to why?” he asked in a low voice.
“There are many things I’m curious about, I could list a hundred questions I’d like you to answer but no, that one is not first and foremost in my mind.”
“Then what is?” His curiosity was obvious now, his eyes burned with it. I swallowed hard, trying to draw strength from deep down inside.
“Do you love me?” I asked softly, my voice quietly breaking along with my heart. My eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill. I blinked hard, trying to hold them back.
He stood so still, for a moment it was hard to tell if he was even breathing. His gaze was locked with mine, his face expressionless. And then suddenly his mask crumpled. His eyes filled with pain and passion, his expression twisted in sorrow and regret. He crossed the room in two quick steps, pulled me up off his bed and enfolded me in his arms in a fierce embrace, crushing me against his firm chest.
“Gracelynn, how can you even ask me that? It should be so obvious,” he chastised, rocking me gently as he spoke. My heart swelled in my chest at his words. I clung to him tightly, letting my tears trickle down my cheeks. “Of course I love you. I love you more than anyone or anything else; I love you more than I even love myself and that is, after all, the root of all our problems.” I pulled back from him just enough so that I could see his face. The pained expression had returned, the agony clear in his eyes.
“Sebastian, I don’t understand.” I gently touched his face with my fingertips, stroking his smooth skin. He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into my touch. When he opened them again, his expression was decidedly resigned and weary. He slowly sat down on his bed, gently pulling me down to sit beside him.
“I’ve kept something from you, Gracelynn. Something I should have told you right from the start. I’ve lived a lot longer than you may think I have... I can’t… I mean, I don’t… age,” he announced quietly. Despite myself, a small gasp escaped my lips. He continued on in a rush. “And as long as I’m around you, as long as I love you like this and want you by my side forever… then you won’t age either. I’m so sorry, Gracelynn. It’s the reason why I had to stop being your friend as soon as I remembered, as soon as I realized what was happening. And it’s the reason why I have to leave… and why I’m going to have to make you forget me – forget all of this. I don’t want you to come looking for me.” His expression was one of deep and ancient sadness as he slowly lifted his hands to lightly place his fingers at my temples. I was too shocked to speak, to move, and so I watched in mute horror as he firmly pressed his fingertips against my skin and closed his eyes in concentration.
Chapter Nine - Revelations
Sebastian’s brow furrowed in concentration, his lips compressed into a thin line. I felt his fingertips become impossibly hot against my skin, a strange, tingling sensation started to spread out from them and across my skull. Panic hit me as I realized what he was trying to do – what he wanted to happen. I found my tongue just in time, jerking my head out of his grasp.
“Don’t you dare,” I hissed, the outrage clear in my voice.
“Gracelynn, what choice do I have?” he asked desperately, miserably.
“It won’t work. No matter how far away you are, even if I can’t remember anything about you – not even your name, I still won’t age. It can’t be undone.”
“It will work,” he argued, his voice sad but patient. “It already has. The day I told you we couldn’t be friends anymore, the day I started staying away from you, you began aging again. You’ll notice it soon,” he assured me. I shook my head in denial.
“You’re wrong Sebastian, I’m not aging. Not unless I’m pregnant,” I added, my face flushing slightly. It was almost nice to see Sebastian look completely confused for once. I could see him visibly struggling to make sense of my words.
“Are you saying that your… cycle has stopped?” he asked, obviously uncomfortable. No matter how many years he might have claimed to have lived, his obvious discomfort with alluding to the female anatomy made it hard to think of him as anything other than the teenage boy that he appeared.
“Yes, that’s what I’m telling you. And if your plan really had worked, wouldn’t my ‘cycle’ have started again by now?” I pointed out. He frowned, considering my words carefully.
“It should have,” he admitted. “Maybe once I’m further away…”
“No,” I interrupted. “You know it won’t work. It’s not what you really want.” He studied my eyes as I spoke as if searching for answers there. We considered each other in silence for several long seconds.
“Are you sure you’re not pregnant?” he asked quite seriously. I gave him a hard shove, nearly knocking him off the bed.
“Sebastian! How can you even ask me that?” His face broke into a cheeky grin. An answering smile automatically spread across my face, my outrage instantly fading. I had missed him so much.
“One ridiculous question for another,” he told me, grinning mischievously still. My confusion must have been obvious as he answered my question before I could speak it. “You asked if I loved you,” he reminded me with a soft snort. His grin faded to a gentle smile, his eyes softening and filling with a tender love.
“And you said that you did,” I said quietly, the wonder clear in my voice.
“I do,” he agreed.
My breathing came fast and shallow as he leaned forward to kiss me. It was just as wonderful, even more amazing than I had remembered. The room spun as all of my senses were overpowered by him. My passion and love for him flared with my overwhelming desire as our lips moved together in a never-ending kiss. Once more I felt truly alive, completely whole as I was encompassed by his arms. And I knew it was not just my body responding to him but my soul itself that recognized its counterpart and rejoiced.
Several long minutes later we broke apart. Neither one of us ended the kiss, it was just a mutual understanding that we needed to take a break, to slow things down for a moment. T
oo much had still been left unsaid and I wasn’t going to continue my relationship with him any further until I had the answers I needed. At some point we had moved to lie down on his bed, and though I was thrilled to be reunited with him and overwhelmed to the point of near frenzy that he loved me too, I was still nowhere near ready to take that step in our relationship.
I twisted around in his arms so that I could see his face. We lay side by side on top of his dark blue duvet. Both of us were trying to catch our breath and slow our racing hearts. We shared a warm, slow smile as we gazed into each other’s eyes; this felt so right, like he was my perfect match.
“I love you,” I told him, my voice slightly breathless still. The words felt natural coming out of my mouth; everything about this felt so easy, so right. He looked at me with eyes full of adoration and wonder.
“Hearing you say that… how do you make my heart pound and yet still give me chills at the same time?” He shook his head with a slight laugh, then gently and tenderly kissed my forehead, then the tip of my nose, making his way down to my lips. He then kissed me very slowly and very gently, sending a warm, passionate glow through out my body, triggering some unfamiliar and thrilling sensations. “I love you too, more than anything,” he proclaimed with a sigh. I pulled back once more, studying his expression. He looked tired and resigned again.
“You said that was the root of our problems, that you love me too much?” I struggled to remember exactly what he’d said. I was still feeling a bit dizzy.
“Yes. I suppose I should explain. I have no choice but to tell you everything now.” He sat up as he spoke, leaning back against the pillows on his bed. He pulled me up with him, wrapping his arms tightly around me. “I’ve always known that I was different from the other people around me. I don’t age, I don’t get sick, I never get hurt and strange things happen around me, I’m always provided with opportunities to get what I want. But I’ve never been able to control it in even the slightest… until I met you. I wasn’t sure why that was but I’ve come up with a theory.”