by Cici Wickens
Cam’s thumb grazed my elbow. I shiver at the contact. “How did you heal so fast?” He repeated.
I push him away, shaking. “I told you. It must not have been as bad as I thought.” I speak with more anger and conviction than I thought I had. “I need to go.”
I run out of the house. He called out after me, but I only speed up my pace. I sprint all the way home and shut the door behind me.
“Mom! I need to talk to you!” I yell, barging into my parent’s bedroom. She’d know how to handle this slip up.
I stop in my tracks. The empty room triggers a sob that gets caught in my throat. I slowly retreat and go sit on the couch. I had forgotten. How could I have forgotten? She’s gone. I can’t talk to her anymore. We definitely have to leave.
My thoughts are interrupted by the loud chime of our doorbell. I tense up. Who could it be? Surely it isn’t Cam.
I stand, quietly making my way towards the peep-hole in our door. To my surprise, the person that I see on the other side of the door isn’t Cam, but a complete stranger instead.
I hope he’s not here to offer his condolences.
He rang the doorbell again. I open the door.
“Um…hello.” I say awkwardly.
The guy, around my age, had the expression of someone who had been struck absolutely speechless. He took in my attire, then met my eyes. I probably look like a sweaty, teary-eyed mess.
And he just kept on staring…
“Are you lost or something?” I ask tentatively, closing the door a little more.
“Oh! Uh…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and briefly shut his eyes. I take this as a chance to further examine him. I know everyone around here, and he doesn’t look the least bit familiar. He had the appearance of a normal guy—the usual jeans and a hoodie, shaggy brown hair—but there’s something different about him…something more. “Your phone!” He finally said.
“My phone? You need to use my phone?” I ask dubiously.
He cleared his throat to collect himself. “You dropped your phone. I wanted to return it to you.” He clarified, no longer flustered. He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to me.
“Oh my gosh! Thanks! I forgot all about it! When I fell earlier I must’ve dropped it. And I got so worked up I didn’t even think about it.”
“Yeah.” He muttered. “You should be more careful. And I’m really sorry about what happened to your mother. I wish I could’ve done something.” He said solemnly.
I’m not sure how to respond, so I just say, “Me too.” I point behind me, remembering my manners despite everything that’s happened. “Do you want to come in for a drink or something? It’s the least I could do for all your help! I think there’s some lemonade in the fridge.”
“Actually, I’ve got to…I’m late for my…I shouldn’t.” He stammered awkwardly.
I nod slowly. “Okaaayyyy.” I look down for a second to slip my phone into my pocket. “Can I at least get your name?” I ask.
Silence is the only answer I receive, and by the time I look back up, he’s gone. I step out a bit, craning my neck to look around. All I see is the kid from next door walking down the sidewalk. Weird. I hadn’t even heard him leave. I shut the door, filled with uncertainty and something else that I can’t quite put my finger on.
My dad came in about an hour later. His eyes looked as if they were frowning. His entire face was drawn. He didn’t say anything to me, just went inside his room and quietly closed the door behind him.
I bite my bottom lip, concerned. Some part of me feared leaving him alone. I’ve come to realize that you never know what people are capable of, even those closest to you.
I go into the room and grab his hands. He had been sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. “Dad.” He looked at me. “Everything will be alright. Tomorrow will be a fresh start.”
He gave me a small, sad smile and nodded.
✽ ✽ ✽
That night, I laid down in my bed, snuggled into my blankets, and stared at the ceiling. I watched my fan go around and round. My eyes eventually drifted shut.
I stand beside my father. It was raining, pouring actually. The sky rolled with darkened clouds and the air had a strange, herb-like scent to it. Lavender. We were watching as the pallbearers lowered my mother’s casket into the ground.
The earth shook whenever it hit the bottom of the hole. A hollow feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. The casket rose back up and slammed back down, over and over again, growing louder and louder.
THUD THUD THUD.
The noise grew louder still and met the steady rhythm of a drum. A shadow appeared in the distance, no more than the outline of a woman. She extended her hand, and a spark manifested in her palm. She disappeared, and the flame fell onto the drenched ground.
The flame didn’t die out. It livened as if the water was oil instead, spreading into a ring of fire around me. The smoke was stiffening, and my lungs fill with it. I fall to my knees, chest constricting, and squeeze my eyes shut.
Then everything went silent. I look up and reel back in fright.
The casket was in midair, beaten to bits, and wide open. My mother’s body was not inside of it though. It landed on top of me in a mangled heap. I scream and scramble from beneath her corpse. I back into something behind me and turn to see what it is.
My headboard. I sit up, wildly glancing around. I’m in my room. I put a hand to my racing heart. It was just a nightmare.
A detached arm fell onto my thigh. It’s pale and without warmth. The hand attached to the limb had pink painted fingernails that had begun to chip. I put my hands to my mouth in revulsion, just as the hand leapt up and reached for my neck.
I wake up gasping for air, shoving my own hand away. My comforter and back are soaked in sweat. I run shaky fingers through my damp hair and dazedly comprehend that it was my own arm I had seen in the dream. There is a slight tingle to my limb. It must have fallen asleep. My imagination had been playing tricks on me. The hand hadn’t been reaching for my neck. It had been going to my mouth like my brain had told it to. I just couldn’t feel it at the time.
The nightmare had been terrible. I don’t know why my subconscious would make up something so horrid, but it left me feeling sick to my stomach.
I try falling back to sleep but can’t. And I don’t really want to. It’s already three in the morning anyhow. I climb out of bed and start packing my belongings since we’ll be leaving today. Might as well get a head start.
Chapter 6
Magic Water and My First-Born Child
Iris
It was weird—preparing to leave the house that I had grown up in, especially without my mom coming with us. But I feel like it’s necessary, and something that my dad and I both need to do in order to move on.
I struggle to lug my suitcases down the stairs. On the last step, lost in my own train of thought, I manage to slip, but a pair of solid hands grab me before I crack my back open on the step.
“Seems like I can’t even handle two suitcases.” I mutter in embarrassment as he eases me onto the floor. I look up at my savior and say, “Thanks, um…who are you?”
He smiled down at me, his dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Thomas.”
I manage to smile back. It feels weird on my face and I realize that I haven’t truly smiled after the night my mom passed. “And…what are you doing here?” I ask.
“Saving you, apparently.” He joked. “Well, that and…my mom got a call a couple weeks ago saying that someone was interested in buying my grandpa’s old house. She asked me to plan my fishing trip around this weekend so that I could stop by on my way back home and help you and your dad pack. She’s been trying to sell that old house for years now.” He scratched the back of his head. His dark brown eyes seemed to be glowing with warmth. He was so full of life. It was refreshing.
“Oh, well I’m glad we bought it then.”
“Listen...” He began, genuine remorse in his voice. “I’m r
eally sorry about your mother.”
“Thanks.” My heart clenches. It’s okay. It will be alright. Live for her.
I take a deep breath to clear my thoughts and to break the uncomfortable silence. “Are you a football player?”
Thomas chuckled. “That obvious?”
“Just a little. What school do you attend?”
“Shady-Pete High. Home of the Rattlesnakes!” He announced dramatically.
“That’s the same one I’m transferring to! At least I’ll know someone now.” The thought actually makes me smile wider than before. Maybe it really will be alright.
Thomas shook his head. “Don’t worry, you’ll make plenty of friends. Trust me.”
“I hope so.” I murmur. Hope. I think I’ll get through this.
“How about I help with these?” He asked, motioning to my suit cases.
“Please.” I answer.
When we finished packing up the bags, Thomas said he would see me at school and took off on a rumbling truck. My father drug some more stuff towards his vehicle and heaved it inside.
“Iris, it’s time to go.” My dad said. “Come on, you’re riding with me.”
“What about my car?”
“I’ll get someone to drive her to the house.” He saw the look on my face and added, “Someone trusted. I need to speak with you about a few things and I think it’d be best if we rode together.”
I open the door and climb into the big vehicle. My dad pulls out of the driveway, and I look in the rearview mirror to catch one last glimpse of my house.
With its baby blue exterior and white shutters, it was your typical family home. A picket fence surrounded the rich green yard. The perfect place to raise a family in. A lot of memories were made there. If I concentrate hard enough, I can see my mom and dad chasing me around in the yard, laughing. The memory blinked out of existence when the house was no longer in view.
I wipe a few tears from my eyes before they fall. I miss her. I’ve got to stop crying. She wouldn’t want me to. She had always been very adamant about it. A memory resurfaces as I think about her always telling me not to cry, and I welcome it.
It had been a cool day and after riding my new Christmas present for hours, I’d gotten a tad bit chilly, but didn’t go inside because I was having too much fun. My pink bike had been my most recent obsession. Mom had even brushed my hair into pig-tail puffs with pink ribbons, and she’d gushed about how adorable I looked. I was only five years old at the time and didn’t have any fears in the world.
“Iris! Would you like a glass of water?” My mom called from the front porch.
I had been seeing how fast I could pedal when she had called me. I craned my head around and watched her face change from joy to fear. A split second before the crash I wondered why she was looking at me like that. I had run my bike into a light pole and flew forward into the road. My breath had wheezed out of my lungs as I hit the concrete. I cried out in agony when I’d landed on my arm, causing it to bend awkwardly in the wrong direction. It was the first time I’d ever felt real pain.
My mom had sprinted towards me, carried me onto the lawn, and kneeled down beside me. I sobbed the entire time. “Oh, don’t cry. You’re stronger than that Iris.” She’d reached out to comfort me, but then thought better of it when I’d shied away and pulled her shaking hands back. “You’ll be okay.” She had said after a moment. It had sounded like she remembered something but was unsure of it at the same time.
I’d watched as my mom had stood up. I had been confused and in pain, and she was going in the house? I hadn’t understood the reason she was leaving me, and just stared after her numbly as my arm throbbed. She had emerged from the house a few moments later and looked completely composed, like her little girl’s arm wasn’t broken.
“Here. Drink this and you’ll be better.” She held out my favorite flower cup.
I hadn’t grabbed it and instead whimpered, “Mommy. I’m s-scared. Take me to daddy. He’ll make me better.”
“Drink this Iris.” She had said calmly, stroking my hair.
“No!” I cried.
She had pressed the cup to my lips and tipped the cup back. I’d swallowed it on reflex and had instantly begun to feel much better. “See? It’s magic water. Now stop that crying.”
I had become excited when she told me I was drinking ‘magic water’ and drank the rest of it without fuss. “Mm.” I murmured as I had licked my lips. Being a child, I had thought that the magic water had tasted much better than the regular water, even though they were actually the same. I hadn’t known it at the time, of course.
My mom had smiled. “Mm.” She had agreed. “You’re such a special girl.”
That was the first time I had realized I was different. My arm had healed before I went to bed, and I hadn’t felt a thing—even though it had been the nastiest process I’d ever seen. It took me three years to realize that she had just given me a glass of water. Most days I can pretend I’m normal, that is, until I hurt myself.
After driving for a few more minutes, my dad asked me a question without taking his eyes off the road. “So, what do you think about Cam?”
I give him a look. “Did you know he was Frank’s son?”
“Of course. You didn’t?”
I shrug. “No.”
“I’ve got a favor to ask. Frank says that ever since Cam has finished high school, he’s been shutting everyone out. Frank was wondering if you could try to hang out with him, just something that would help Cam get out more…without getting into trouble. Frank thinks that you’d be a great influence on the kid and that you might be able to find out what’s been troubling him. And...I think it’d be good for you.” I scowl. Great. Now we’re going to go through that stage of making sure I didn’t become a recluse.
This wasn’t a good idea at all. Especially since Cam will probably start asking about what happened when I fell yesterday. “I don’t think so.” I murmur and turn up the radio.
My dad turned it back down. “Come on Iris.”
“Dad, he and I don’t really get along.” I try.
“Come on, do it for me. I don’t want to let Frank down, especially after everything they’ve done for us with the funeral.” My dad turned onto the highway.
“Will you?” My dad pressed after a moment of peaceful silence.
“What?” I deliberately ask, pretending to not know what he’s talking about.
“Hang with Cam?” I smile at his use of slang. He was trying. It seemed like my father was feeling a lot better. I couldn’t tell him ‘no’.
I groan. “Okay dad, I’ll do it. But, I don’t even have his number. I mean, I could look him up on social media or something—”
He handed me a crumpled piece of paper. “Here’s his number. Frank and I have already made plans for you and Cam to go get pizza this Thursday.”
“Man, you have both planned everything out haven’t ya? It’s like you set us up.” I remark, programming Cam’s number into my phone. “Shouldn’t you be saying ‘stay away from that boy. He’s trouble’? Or ‘I don’t want you getting pregnant’? Or wait, let me guess…as long as you pick out the guy you’re okay with it?”
“Iris, I trust you. And yeah…you’re right about that last part. Oh, maybe you should invite Cam to your birthday party on Saturday?”
I go silent for a while. I didn’t think we’d be having a party so soon. “We’re still having my party?” I ask quietly.
“Yes, Iris. We’re still having your party. Your mother would have never postponed celebrating your 18th birthday. She would’ve said that ‘it only happens once’. We already skipped right over Christmas and New Year’s.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, she would’ve.”
“So…?”
“Sure dad, why not?” I ask sarcastically. It felt good to bicker with my dad. “I’ll be sure to give him my firstborn child, too.”
“Thanks.” My dad ignored my sarcasm as he put in a classic rock disc. I groan and slide down in m
y seat. This is why I should’ve driven my own car.
Chapter 7
A Close Call with Death
Thomas
I felt very protective of the girl I had met only a couple hours ago. Iris. It was strange really. Most times when I saw a pretty girl I was quick to exchange numbers and turn on the charm. But with her it was different. As soon as I met her hazel-brown eyes, a strong sense of loyalty had swelled in my chest. The kind of loyalty only felt towards someone’s close friends and family.
I pull up our gravel drive and cut off my truck. I sigh loudly and lean my head back. Some part of me hadn’t wanted to leave her. I could tell that she was still pretty messed up over what happened with her mom. I had wanted to stay and make her laugh. I shake my head. “Snap the hell out of it.” I mutter, trying to forget the haunting impression her gaze had left on my mind. “You don’t even know her.”
I shoulder my door open, step out, and give a good stretch. I’m immediately tackled by my six-year-old little sister, Lola. Her head hits me in the gut. I bend over and hug her to play off the pain. Her bright blue eyes were wide with excitement, and her wild blonde hair hung in crazy curls around her face. It makes me grin. We both have some wild hair. I grab her playfully and tickling her senseless.
Lola shrieked with delight. “Thomas stop!” Her face turned serious for a split second—long enough to declare her next words—when I continued my onslaught. “I’m gonna’ pee myself!”
My fingers freeze, the magic words said, and I scoop her up and carry her to the door. I try to set her down, but she clings to me like a magnet. With a grumble, I attempt to open the door while holding her and my tackle-box. Mission complete. I kick the door shut with my foot.
“Mom…Dad…I’m home!” I holler, when I manage to pry Lola off. I toss my keys onto the table beside the TV.
My mom walked out of the kitchen, her perfectly straight blonde hair pulled into a bun. “Hey honey, you’ve got to be quieter, your dad’s trying to take a nap.” She motioned with a sauce covered spoon as she spoke and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.