“But why us?” I pleaded. My second burning question was, how long did we have to make that choice? But I was too afraid to ask. What if it was sooner than I—than we—were ready for?
She shrugged. “The why shouldn’t be nearly as important as the fact that it simply is. Despite living such different lives, it seems you’ve landed in the exact same boat.”
“Yeah, a sinking one,” I groaned.
Creesie gazed at me with a gentle expression. In a soft voice, she said, “Have you ever considered how your paths crossed in the first place? Can you imagine how destiny intervened so that the two of could meet the way you did? Madly in love . . . only to part again? And now, regardless of all that’s happened since, or the opposite paths your lives have taken, imagine how destiny aligned so you could find each other once again.”
“’Find?’” I spat, hating how literal this realm was. “Don’t you mean ran into each other? Call me crazy, but I think destiny has a gruesome sense of humor.”
I could feel my agitation rising by the second, and I hadn’t any idea why. While it wasn’t the ideal situation for either Daniel or me, I had no cause to be upset with Creesie. The idea occurred to me that it might have something to do with my proximity to Daniel, that these feelings were actually his, and that I was merely the receptor. I took three steps away from the bed, and the pounding in my head stopped. That’s when a question popped into my mind.
“An officer at the accident said he was chasing the kid in the green car because of his possible involvement in a series of burglaries. What do you know about that?”
“That’s a question for Daniel,” Creesie said evasively.
“But you know,” I insisted. “You know the whole story.”
“I do.”
“Why not just tell me?” I pressed. “Save us both a whole lot of trouble.”
Creesie was looking at Daniel as she replied. She seemed to be speaking mostly to him. “Daniel needs to tell you that himself. It’s not easy to disclose our innermost secrets, secrets that might make us unlovable, especially to those we still love.”
She looked at me then, and there was something so pitying in her expression that my vision blurred with unexpected tears—Daniel loved me . . . still?
My brain flew off in a dozen directions as I imagined what might have happened to him since we’d last spoken three years ago. Creesie was probably right; it was better to hear it straight from his lips because, for some unfathomable reason, I was terribly afraid it might tarnish my memories of him, and this idea—more than any other—disturbed me more than I cared to admit.
It was too easy to remember the way we were together, inseparable for all of our freshman year. I’d never met anyone with an imagination like his, and it wasn’t likely I ever would again. He loved to draw—portraits of me, mostly. Every day he’d sketch my face—some in chalk, others in pencil, a few in shapes reminiscent of Picasso. Though the likeness was there, he made me look far prettier than I was in person. And yet each time I said that, he would unequivocally deny it.
We didn’t spend our days together; I took advanced classes and Daniel was barely passing (intelligence wasn’t the issue, boredom was). But to make sure we were never far from each other in thought, he created a secret texting code that was based on the number of letters in a word, once you skipped the double consonants. There were too many to put to memory, and occasionally I’d forget some and spend the rest of the hour wracking my brain to figure them out. Even so, it was our little secret, mine and his alone, and I adored him for it. For the first and only time in my life, school wasn’t my priority . . . Daniel Hartlein was.
Only a few still came to mind. There was: 133, I miss you. 143, I love you. 224, I’m so sorry. And my favorite: 3 back 3.
Daniel explained that if you placed two 3’s back to back—taking time to flip the second one over, then laying them down side by side—you’d see the eternity symbol. He equated the 3’s to each of us. I was the first one, the one facing forward, while he was the second one—the one who did everything the hard way, the one flipped backwards.
“Get it, my love? You and me through eternity,” he used to say.
I stepped out of my memories, now seeing Daniel in his present state. Somehow I knew he wasn’t in the room with us, wasn’t with his body. Maybe in my bodiless form I was more aware of people’s souls. In any case, I knew he was in worse shape than I was. Though he didn’t appear to have any broken bones, he was on a respirator, and there was an assortment of loudly beeping machines around him.
“Just tell me one thing,” I begged, now staring into Creesie’s eyes.
She nodded cautiously.
“Where is he?” The words were a plea.
“Nowhere we can find him at the moment, I’m afraid.” Creesie studied him, her expression more tender than usual. “It’s terrible; the things we do to ourselves, the way guilt can eat us alive. Daniel’s had a difficult three years—fell in with the wrong crowd, made some very bad decisions, and now he wants nothing more than to escape from that in the only way that he knows how.”
“Is he dying?” I was sickened at the thought.
“He’s definitely trying. He believes it’s his only option . . . You, of all people, can probably understand that.” I nodded, too ashamed to look at her, recalling similar ideas of my own. “And you can already feel the loss if he succeeds, can’t you?” Again, I nodded, unable to speak. “As for where he is exactly . . . if I ventured to guess, I’d say that Daniel is wandering aimlessly . . . lost in one of the other Stations.”
“Then we should go get him!” I insisted. “What are we waiting for?”
Creesie hesitated, looking first at Daniel, then slowly back at me. “I wish it were that simple. Before anyone can be found, they have to want to be. And Daniel, well . . . Daniel’s lost his hope, you see.”
For some reason, my attention stuck on the way she’d phrased it, and it struck me as intentional. He’s lost his hope. In some convoluted way, had she been referring to me? Given that we’d started in this together, could we leave the same way? Together? Though I didn’t love him—at least, not the way I used to—I cared for him the way you always cared about your first true love. Besides, now that Ethan was in my life, there was only room for one.
But as I pictured him lost, I was overcome by a quiet sense of desperation.
“We have to find him, Creesie. We do.”
She stood, nodded, not seeming surprised by what I had said, but not the slightest bit happy about it, either. “When the moment is right, I’ll help you, but Daniel isn’t ready to listen yet. He’s too caught up in himself to be able to hear much of anything else.”
I exhaled loudly. Creesie would keep her promise, that much I knew, but torturing her about the details wasn’t going to help me. There were a dozen more questions that I wanted to ask, but something (or rather someone) told me to stop, and I bit my tongue to keep from speaking.
“Until then,” she said, changing the subject abruptly, “there’s plenty to keep you occupied. Amora has been asking for you. And,” she added knowingly, “I hear you have something in mind for a future shortcut of your own.”
“You said you rarely paid attention,” I reminded her with an embarrassed grin.
Back to her usual self, she snorted, “Your mother’s going to kill me.”
On our way out, I paused to look again at Daniel, not bothering to notice who else was near. As I stood in the doorway, a violent force ripped through me, paralyzing me. It was enough to make my limbs go stiff, and there was a tightening, almost a vice-like grip around my head. My hands balled involuntarily into fists, seemingly imagining Daniel’s neck in them. And racing, rushing thoughts ping-ponged in my mind—of a kind I’d never experienced before.
How I despised the Thing . . . the Creature that was a part of Anna!
She tricked me! She deceived me!
My eyes narrowed. My breathing labored. Across the I room, I glared at Daniel throug
h a haze of crimson red. And those frenzied, racing thoughts kept coming—
Not my blood! Never was! Lies! All lies!
And then, in a sudden twist of evil glee came a thought of another kind.
If I—if I only could—
I almost laughed.
But then . . . I could. Couldn’t I? Who would stop me?
I debated an unknown, dreadful something for a speeding, pulsing instant.
It would be flawless. Just like before . . . No one would ever know.
Once the tree of a man passed through me, my legs refused to support my weight. My body seemed to liquefy, and I collapsed. Creesie was instantly at my side, catching me before I hit the floor.
“Are you all right?” she gasped, jerking her head toward the black-headed man at Daniel’s bedside. “Who is that?”
Still panting, I muttered in disbelief, “Daniel’s father, Sheriff John Hartlein.”
Grabbing me beneath my arms, Creesie dragged me into the next room to recover. As I lay motionless on the hard floor, noticing that I couldn’t feel its slick surface beneath me, she dumped the massive contents of her purse beside me, rummaged through it and shoved a piece of candy into my mouth. At first, I couldn’t move. Anything. Not even an eyelid. This time was more debilitating than the incident with Ethan. But as the chocolate began to melt, I began to slowly regain my strength. When at last I blinked, Creesie sighed with relief.
“Sugar is good for the soul,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Packs a wallop, doesn’t it? Why do you think we eat so much of it?”
Several minutes later, as we made our way to Amora’s room, I worked at shaking off the last of the icky feeling, but it clung to my insides like an oily slick. One disturbing question burned darkly in my thoughts. How could Sheriff Hartlein despise his only son? No wonder Daniel made dozens of excuses every time I tried to visit. No wonder my parents had said that John Hartlein impressed them as a man with lots of skeletons in his closet—too many to keep the door closed forever. My parents aside, no one else seemed to notice. Hartlein had won every election by a landslide, and lately I’d heard that he was planning to run for mayor. Several of his billboards were still plastered around town, and knowing what I knew now, the slogan was beyond detestable. Vote for John Hartlein—The Sheriff With A Heart!
When we were near Daniel’s room, I stole a furtive glance inside. John Hartlein was staring a dark hole into Daniel’s nearly lifeless form. Though there wasn’t much I could do to protect him, I loathed and all-out feared the idea of leaving him alone with that horrid, evil man.
“Don’t fret,” Creesie cooed, gently ushering me away, refusing to let me linger. “Nothing will happen to him here. We’ll find Daniel before then.”
Despite Creesie’s unflappable calm, my feet dragged. “You’ve seen it?” I asked, hoping that nothing altered to change that fact. With a sinking heart, I remembered that Daniel was famous for changing his mind, and then doing the opposite of what anyone expected him to do. What if he made things worse for himself?
“Don’t fret,” she repeated, pushing me along. “Must I remind you that patience is a virtue? Besides, some things can’t be rushed. Daniel needs to come out of the shadows on his own accord, and I believe he will soon. He just needs a little more time.”
By the time we walked across the hall, I knew it wasn’t merely her assurance, but the sight of Amora which caused my mood to brighten. She wore a long, dark wig on her head; there was a rosy color in her cheeks, and her mischievous eyes sparkled. She was a different little girl from the one I’d met the other day. I turned to mention this to Creesie, but she was suddenly nowhere in sight.
“Hope!” Amora cried, her face lighting up. “You came to see me!”
“Did you miss me already?” I asked, and Amora nodded briskly. Yet again, I was overwhelmed by how easy it was to make friends this way. I seemed far more fascinating without my body than with it.
Although no one else was in the room, her rolling bedside table held two sodas. I could hear the sound of them fizzing, and the ice melting in the Styrofoam cups.
“Is your mom coming back soon?” I flopped sideways across her bed. Tiny as she was, I was nowhere near her feet.
Amora flushed, then mumbled, “She’s giving us a few minutes.”
Knowing she wasn’t referring to me, I was about to ask her who the “us” was, but her flush intensified when a short, solid-looking little boy with black hair and inquisitive eyes entered the room. In his hands, he carried two vanilla puddings.
“Is that Oliver?” I asked, happily surprised.
Amora nodded only slightly as she turned her head toward him.
“Does he know about me?” The second I asked it, I realized how crazy that was. Of course, she couldn’t tell Oliver about me.
Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head.
I broke into a wide grin, unable to stop myself from gushing, “He’s cute, Amora! I really like his spiky hair!”
I watched as he handed her a pudding, politely asking if she needed her bed to be more upright or wanted her pillow fluffed, then he yanked his chair closer before digging in. Amora nibbled delicately at her pudding, the smile never leaving her face.
“I guess I’ll leave you two alone,” I whispered. Jumping from the bed, I muttered, “Thanks for passing along my message to Ethan. He was very happy to hear it.” And then a thought came to mind—more like a picture, really. “Hey, in case you need a chaperone on your first date, I’m available for a minimum charge. But you should warn Oliver that I know Tae Kwon Do.” I demonstrated some of my worst moves.
“Hope, you’re crazy!” she sputtered, bursting into a giggle. I didn’t turn to see the surprised look on Oliver’s face, but I knew it was there.
Passing by my room, I saw that everyone was still asleep—well, almost everyone. Claire was staring glassily at my bed, eyes open but not really seeing, her torment nearly etched into her skin. Before I forced myself to look away, I told her that I’d visit soon. It wasn’t only for Claire’s benefit; I missed her nearly as much as she missed me.
Near the elevators, I spied Creesie. “Sure you’re ready for this?” she asked. When she looked up at me from under a soft wave of bangs, there was an extra little twinkle in her eyes. She looked every bit the teenager she appeared to be.
“More than ready.” This was one shortcut I would never forget.
She pulled back the invisible curtain, granting me access to a spacious bedroom in a muted blue shade. A low bed with a gray leather headboard squatted in front of a pair of floor-to-ceiling windows. On the other side of the room, two French doors opened onto a weathered wrought-iron balcony. Though the sun hadn’t yet risen—watery pinks painted the horizon—the bed was empty. It was all very neat and tidy, almost formal. Not at all what I’d expected. Then I spotted the fly-rod propped lazily in one corner.
An enormous smile spread across my face.
“I’ll try to be good,” I told her, hoping I could keep that promise.
“Really?” Creesie snickered. “I probably wouldn’t.”
10 Ethan’s Room
After I stepped into the room, I looked back twice to be sure Creesie had released the curtain, granting us some semblance of privacy. In truth, there wasn’t much mischief I could get into since Ethan was awake and I was, well, not. But my desire to see a small part of his world won out over common sense, and even if he wouldn’t know I was with him, I was thrilled to be here.
Faint steam immersed with a woodsy scent hung in the air from an adjacent room, encroaching on my senses. Forgetting that I didn’t have to be so utterly human, I walked through the room’s open door rather than shimmying through the wall, and heard water falling, and someone singing. With a smile, I realized I’d found the one thing that Ethan wasn’t so great at. His musical inclinations would have to remain at home or confined to random karaoke nights in places far, far away. Even so, I beamed. He was singing an old rock tune at the top of his lungs
, and he sounded ridiculously happy.
I took a long look around. His apartment ate up an entire floor, and this side was a twin to its opposite half—neatly split down the middle. From the living room’s balcony, I could see the last of the crimson leaves billowing in the breeze, and many more littering the ground in the tree-filled courtyard below. We were high in the treetops—the fourth or fifth floor—and from here, I could just make out Spencer’s Butte, a hangout of tourists and locals alike.
I knew exactly where we were. Downtown Eugene had several of these old brick buildings, but this one appeared to be recent recently remodeled—a perfect mix between the old and the new—plenty of exposed brick, dark wood floors, and modern furnishings. The main room was tasteful, if not a bit on the stark side. Nothing covered the windows. On sunny days, I imagined that the afternoon light would flood the expansive room from east to west.
To the left of the balcony sat a pair of squared-off armchairs. Behind them stood a wall of built-in bookcases, stuffed from top to bottom, and fixed with a rolling ladder for easier access to the highest shelves. Running my finger near the books’ spines, I saw that some of them were leather bound, and many were classics. I recalled a list: 100 Books To Read Before You Die, which my high school English teacher had force-fed us during our Junior year (of which, I’d only read fifty-seven) and thought how ironic it was that, in my bodiless state, I was thinking of that list. Then my thoughts drifted again, and I wondered how many Ethan might have read. This was one of several questions I was dying (though, not fatally) to ask him.
I traipsed back into the huge bedroom, reclining on the silken linens and propping my hands behind my head. I thought about removing my shoes, only for the sake of being polite, but quickly dismissed that idea. It wasn’t like they were going to leave a mark.
Dozens of photographs of stunning scenery hung tastefully on the balcony wall—from his travels, I assumed. But one picture on his dresser, the only one with people in it, held my attention. In a silver frame, Ethan stood tall in a black robe with a square cap on his head, a serious look of reflection on his flawless face. His long arms embraced a man and a woman. His parents, I guessed. But if so, he didn’t resemble them at all. They were shorter than Ethan, sort of attractive, though not the god and goddess I’d envisioned. But they were proud of him, that was evident. It shone on their faces, lighting them up from the inside out as they each gazed adoringly in his direction.
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