“What?” I nearly jumped from my seat.
“Jonathan is not pressing charges. He’s not causing trouble. He’s not doing anything, really. I’ve been told that he’s been here every day since the accident. The nurses say he is very worried.” Cheryl tried to smile, but I could see the pain clearly written upon her features. I moved closer to her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders.
She sighed as she reached out and placed a hand on the hospital bed. “Jonathan has been very concerned for Ben’s life.”
“But Cheryl, he is saying that the accident wasn’t his fault, that it was Ian’s fault?”
She closed her eyes. “As much as I want to believe that Ian didn’t cause this, I was not there. I will not judge someone when I have no right to.” Cheryl swallowed and gave a quaky sigh. “I will continue to take care of Ian’s friend and pray that Benjamin will survive this horrible tragedy. I have comfort in knowing that Ian would’ve never purposefully hurt someone and—”
“But Cheryl—”
“And I take comfort in knowing that my boy is with the Lord.” Her eyes flashed open, giving me a look that would allow no argument. I decided to keep my comments to myself until Cheryl had at least finished her lunch.
When everything was cleaned and thrown away, I spoke up again.
“He looked at me strangely, like he was really angry with me.” Obviously, she knew I wasn’t referring to the unconscious man in the room.
“Sweetheart, I don’t even think he knows who you are. He’s upset. We all are.” She purposefully changed the subject. “Are you going to be okay after I leave?”
I shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what I should do, so I brought a couple of books to read to him. What have you been doing?”
“Reading is a good idea. I didn’t think of that. I just treat him as if he were Ian, so I talk to him a lot, let him know that someone is here with him.” She smiled softly. “It’s completely up to you. It may seem weird at first, but you’ll get over that.” Cheryl grabbed her purse to leave but paused at the door. “You’ll do just fine,” she said before quitting the room.
I glanced at Benjamin, but before I sat, I had to see whether or not the dark-haired man had returned. Holding onto the door frame I leaned slyly beyond the threshold.
“Hey, I know you,” a voice called. Shocked, I jumped, releasing a small squeak. My hands flew out defensively, but it was a friendly face that greeted me.
“Sorry about that.” He chuckled. “Didn’t mean to frighten you. Do you remember me?”
Releasing a puff of breath, I half-smiled, dropping my hands. “Of course. Aaron, right? From the funeral.” I placed my hand on my heart, still unable to completely get it under control, and took a quick scan of my surroundings.
“Good memory.” Aaron glanced around conspiratorially with me. “Are we looking for someone?”
“No, I was just—” A wave of relief swept over me when I saw that no one was there. “No, it’s nothing.”
“I’m so glad to see you again, but you’re here in the hospital. Is everything alright?” A worried expression crept over his face.
“I’m okay. I’m here with Benjamin right now.”
“Benjamin?” Aaron asked.
“He was in the car with Ian,” I said, clasping my hands together in an effort to not show my discomfort.
Aaron looked over my shoulder and studied Benjamin for a long moment. When he looked at me next, his eyes were full of compassion, and he seemed lost for words.
You… you are a really good person, Sarah Mathis.”
“No, Cheryl is the good person. This was her idea.”
“Yes, Cheryl is a very good person, but so are you. I’m very proud of you.”
I wanted to laugh at his fatherly words, but instead my voice caught. Aaron took both my hands in his. Warmth quickly spread through my body like a welcoming sedative, but this time I didn’t pull away. I wondered if he had this calming effect on everyone. My experience with people was so limited; my life had been such a bubble.
He glanced at Benjamin, then back to me. “I was on my way out, but if you don’t mind, I would like to stay a little while longer with you.”
I nodded. “I would like that. Thank you.” Dad was always so nervous around people and did not socialize at all. What would he think of Aaron?
We walked quietly into the room. Aaron guided me to the chair next to Benjamin, then sat beside me, his gaze fixed on Benjamin. After waiting a few moments for him to speak, I gave up and sat back in my chair, taking a deep breath. I closed my eyes and listened to the soft beep of the monitors tracking the rhythm of Benjamin’s heart.
“Say something to him,” Aaron suddenly whispered.
“What?”
“I think he can hear us. You have a very pleasant tone and a strong presence. I felt that the first time I met you.”
“You did?” I wondered if that spark of energy was what he was referring to.
“Did you know him? He needs to hear something in particular, something maybe you can provide for him.”
“No, I never met him.” I rubbed my clammy palms off on my jeans self-consciously. “What should I say?”
Aaron smiled. “How about you start with your name?”
My name. What could a name do? Pressing the black stone of my mother’s pendant, I gathered my courage. I took a deep breath as I watched Benjamin’s chest rise and fall steadily. Listening to the monitors, I leaned over, bringing my lips closer to his ear.
“Benjamin, my name is Sarah Mathis. I was a close friend of Ian’s. I’ll be here watching over you until your mom can come. I like to read a lot, so I brought a couple of books with me. I don’t know if you like to read and apologize if you don’t like the selection, but I guess if you don’t, then you can let me know. I’ll keep reading until you do.”
Aaron was smiling when I finished. “He heard you.”
“How can you tell?”
“Sarah, I need to go, but it was good seeing you again.” He walked to the door.
“Wait. How do you know he heard me?”
Aaron smiled and gave me a quick wink. “Now that I know where you’ll be, I’ll check in on you again soon.” And then he left.
“He’s such a strange kid,” I muttered to Benjamin. “It looks like it’s just you and me.”
Maybe it was Aaron’s words that had changed the way he appeared, but I recognized that just a moment before, all I had seen lying in front of me was a broken body. Now there was softness to Benjamin’s face, a peacefulness that enveloped him, and I was able to see the beauty of the man behind the mask of temporary wounds. I realized that nothing could stop me from taking care of Benjamin. He needed me, and I would be here to help him, protect him, until he was healed.
Scooting my chair even closer to him, I propped my feet up on the empty seat next to me and pulled out Rebecca from my bag. Holding the book in my lap, I gently took one of Benjamin’s hands in mine and started to read.
4
Dreams And Nightmares
I sat alone in a closed hospital room, staring at Ian as he lay dead on the bed in front of me. It was not the damaged body I had last seen. It lay there in perfect condition: beautiful, whole, and very pale. In fact, everything was devoid of color. The door, walls, bed, sheets—everything was white.
As I looked at his lifeless body, I agonized over how I was going to tell everyone that he was dead. What was I going to say to his mother? Cheryl’s kind-hearted face came to my mind, and I buried my head in my hands to hide my anguish.
A rasping sound caught my attention and I gasped.
Ian was alive! With eyes wide open, staring toward the ceiling, his body jerked as he struggled for air. I leaped from my seat and grabbed him, attempting to dislodge whatever constricted his airway, but nothing helped.
I tried to scream for assistance. I tried to scream as loud as I could.
“Someone help me! Ian’s alive! Please, someone help!” But nothing came out except
half-strangled sounds no louder than a whisper. Tears poured down my face, blinding me as I fought to keep Ian alive. “Please live. Please.” I pleaded in silence.
And then Ian died. Again.
He went limp in my arms, and I couldn’t hold him up. His body flopped to the bed, pinning my right arm beneath him. And there I remained, unable to move, unable to do anything but sob. Once again I weakly called for help, looking toward the square window in the door.
A pair of eyes met mine, and I froze. I knew those eyes, and just as before, I feared them for the malevolence embedded within.
A painful chill shot up my spine as a low, whispered voice came through the door.
“Who are you?” Jonathan asked.
Pinned as I was, I could only turn my head away and stare into Ian’s ivory face. Whoever the monster was at the door, he had killed my friend, my best friend. Anger replaced fear as Jonathan tapped on the viewing window.
“Who are you?” he repeated.
Taking a deep breath, I looked to the glass and shook my head, again refusing to answer his question. Jonathan’s sight narrowed; then I heard the slow squeak of a doorknob turning.
“No!” I shouted, finding my strength.
I would not allow Ian to get hurt again—I would protect him this time. Planting my feet solidly on the ground, I wrenched my arm from underneath Ian and ran at the door. I slammed my body against it, jarring my shoulder hard, forcing it closed. For a split second I stared at the intruder through the small window. Then a force responded from the other side—and I was airborne.
My scream aroused me from sleep. It echoed in my mind as I opened my eyes to complete darkness. Terrified, I looked everywhere around me for the threat, but saw nothing. I froze, waiting until my sight adjusted to Cheryl’s guest room. Jumping up, I ran the distance to flip the light switch on the far wall and turned to scan the room, not just once, but several times, looking for the pair of eyes I had seen so vividly and the person they belonged to.
Cheryl had not woken when I screamed. Another uncontrollable fear that something was wrong filled me. I went quickly to my dresser and pulled my switch blade from my top drawer. The familiar sound of steel cutting through air made me feel braver than I actually was. Handling the knife the way my dad had taught me, I walked quietly to my door and pressed my ear against it, listening for any muffled footsteps or hushed voices. I opened it a crack, only slipping through when confident that no one was there waiting to attack.
I gripped the blade more firmly as I crept down the hallway toward Cheryl’s room. There were no other sounds, nothing that alerted me to a perpetrator in the house, but I had to see for myself. I had to protect her. Her door was only halfway closed, and I peeked in around the corner. She was in her bed, but was she breathing? Slowly I stole closer, all the while looking for any movement. Stopping a foot from the edge of her bed, I could hear deep breathing from her mouth, and I briefly relaxed. The scream must have only been a part of my dream.
It was just a dream. We were safe. And I—I was standing like a creeper, knife drawn, next to Cheryl’s bed. I double-timed it out of her room but still couldn’t completely relax until I had checked all of the locks and scanned every room. After stowing my blade, a sixteenth-birthday present to me from my dad, I finally went back to bed but couldn’t handle the dark just yet. I turned on my bedside lamp.
My dad had always told me I was a vivid dreamer. I had once read that some of my dreams could be described as night terrors and that it was more common for children to experience them rather than adults, but I was an exception to that near-rule. When I was young, nightmares came often, and I had a hard time telling them from real life. My dad would try to help by talking me through them, asking me to explain in detail the events of each dream. As the years went by, he stopped listening and I learned to deal with them.
This dream was different; it felt personal.
Who are you? he had asked.
I whipped back the comforter and got out of bed. Walking out to the kitchen, I grabbed a glass from the cupboard to get a drink. An odd sort of pain drummed in my stomach. I was homesick, but it wasn’t necessarily for home. For the first time ever, I was actually uncomfortable in Cheryl’s house, and I knew why. Ian wasn’t here, and I was alone again.
I placed my glass down softly and walked back toward my room, but I didn’t go in. Instead, I turned left and opened a different door: the door to Ian’s room.
Ian had always wanted to travel. Posters from all around the world, places that he wanted to see someday, covered the walls. My favorite part of his room was the mahogany-framed cork board that hung over his long dresser. Pinned to it were scads of his favorite pictures of family and friends. A picture of the two of us he had framed and placed on top of the dresser.
I picked it up and studied the couple. He was handsome, the light in his eyes reflecting his radiant smile. But who was she? I didn’t know. I went to rest on his bed. Lying back, a familiar fragrance wafted from his pillow as my head settled in. It smelled like the combination of his soap and aftershave. I dropped the frame to the side and turned to sink my face into the material, inhaling deeply to fill my lungs with his scent.
Who are you?
I didn’t know.
Once I pulled into the packed parking lot at my school the next morning, surrounded by other students, I felt a little more normal. Entering my philosophy class, I walked to the front of the classroom and, as usual, chose the seat in the first row. I sat down and pulled out my class material. As I lined up the items on my desk in their usual, comfortable order, memories attached to this thorough preparation flashed across my mind. I shoved my book and spiral notebook carelessly off to the side causing my pen to fall to the floor. I pretended not to notice.
Students entered the class, the door squeaking each time it was thrown open. My professor walked to the front to arrange his belongings on his desk. His bald head gleamed in the overhead light. From the corner of my vision I saw the familiar silhouette of two people standing at the entry. Elisa scanned the room; her long wavy hair hung in a loose side ponytail, her baggy V-neck shirt draped over her black leggings. Even casual, Elisa was a fashionista.
When she saw me she smiled. As she neared she opened her arms. I stood up and willingly allowed her to hug me. Laith strode into the room behind Elisa, black coat smartly draped over one shoulder. I pulled my gaze away from the artwork inked on his body, but the images continued to dance in my mind.
Laith kissed my forehead as he passed to the seat next to me. He stooped to retrieve my pen, placing it gently on my desk.
“You must have dropped this.” He studied me as Elisa continued to hold me. “Are you holding up alright?”
I nodded. Elisa released me, giving me the same concerned look. “Are you really?” she asked, a tinge of skepticism in her voice. I could only nod again.
Class began and she was distracted… for the moment. Taking the seat next to Laith, she continued to peer nervously at me. I tried to act as normal as possible.
The professor, Mr. Phelps, was a short, squatty man who liked to speak in a slow, over-articulated manner, which made the hour drag even longer than normal, but it allowed me to dive back into the details of my dream and analyze it further. I understood why I was dreaming about Ian, but why Jonathan? And why was I so afraid of him? If I were explaining it to my dad—if he would let me—what would he say?
How did you feel in your dream?
Scared at first, but then angry.
Why?
Because Jonathan was there to hurt Ian again.
What do you mean by “again”?
I didn’t know. I gave up and tried to focus on class just as it ended.
“Was that a load of crap or what?” Laith asked. He was stretched out all over his desk, looking just as tired and bored as I felt.
“Oh, you know you loved it. It’s a good class,” Elisa remarked kindly.
“Good?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “
With him as a teacher? You would think a professor of history would be a little more interesting.”
“They can’t all be like your dad,” she teased.
He snorted. “That’s for sure.”
“Then why don’t you take one of his classes?” she asked.
“Your dad teaches history?” I asked. Laith had never mentioned his dad before.
“He is an amazing teacher, but I’ve been to all of his classes.”
All of them? I could feel the muscles between my brows furrow. There was so much I didn’t know about my new friends.
“And his lectures—are life-changing,” he added.
I didn’t realize I was staring again until it was too late. Laith cleared his throat, but before I could look away from his tattoos, he chuckled. For the most part I was able to keep myself from gaping. I wasn’t sure if he found it rude, but I figured if he didn’t want people to see his tattoos, he wouldn’t have put them in such a noticeable place.
Elisa drew my attention, her expression thoughtful. “Sarah, we’ve been friends for a couple of months now, and you still haven’t asked about Laith’s tattoos. How come?”
Laith looked over at me with a strange expression on his face. “You know you could ask me about them whenever you want, right?”
“I…”
“Just not right now. We’ll be late to class.” With another wink, he walked away. “Get a move on you two,” he called over his shoulder.
Like the day before, I met Cheryl at the hospital after class. Now that I knew where I was going, I was less anxious than before, but my heart sped up as I neared the waiting room. I had decided to walk straight to Benjamin without glancing at where Jonathan had sat last time, but temptation overwhelmed me and I looked. Jonathan wasn’t there. I stopped short and scanned the room again, and a pang of some unknown emotion dropped into my gut.
Unwilling to examine my feelings any farther, I entered Benjamin’s room. Cheryl was talking to one of the nurses on duty. She broke off the conversation. “Hey, Sarah. Will you warm up our lunch? It’s in the nurses’ breakroom.”
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