Shepherds: Awakening

by Damian Connolly

  She stayed like that, terrified to let go, terrified that breaking this moment would bring her one step closer to that horrible decision. In the end, her father pushed her gently away.

  “Go on now. Go sleep on it. You have time yet.”

  She nodded, and stepping up on her tiptoes, kissed her father on the cheek. Then, closing her eyes, she turned to find the door, and stepped into sleep.

  She woke early the next morning, even though it was the weekend. Her mother still worked, though later in the morning. Aisling went down to find her making breakfast.

  “Ah, the prodigal daughter arises! You’re up early. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m good,” she said, though every muscle in her body was screaming at her for yesterday’s exertions. “Hungry, though.”

  “Well, sit down at the table, and I’ll see what I can cook up.”

  She sat and watched as her mother bustled around the kitchen, preparing the beginnings of what she hoped were pancakes. After her talk with her father the night before, she felt refreshed, like a spring day after a rain has cleared the air. She realised something else; she’d been blaming her mother for what’d happened. Thinking it was her fault, that she’d done something to drive her father away. With the fallout, and her mother having to pick up extra work to cover the sudden gulf in income, a divide had opened between them. It dawned on her that their relationship was a living thing, and like any living thing, needed to be nurtured and taken care of. The bond between them had played second fiddle to simply surviving from day to day.

  Aisling was going to have to fix it. Before she had to either leave her mother and break her already broken heart anew, or stay and watch as her mother stopped recognising her, watch the memories fade from her eyes, watch as the pictures on the wall became merely ornaments to her.

  She got up. “Here, let me help.”

  11

  Her first day back at school since she was sent home gave her butterflies, but overall she was feeling good. Despite the protests of her body, she’d kept up her exercise routine. It was hurting less and less, which she took to mean that her muscles were adapting. Or her pain threshold was increasing.

  Aisling continued reading the books she’d taken out from the library. The meditation and breathing exercises helped relax her, so she slept easier, and she also wanted to believe that the psychology and mindset exercises were having a positive impact. This morning she was trying out one of the book’s simpler tips; looking people in the eye and saying hello as she passed them.

  She’d gone mostly ignored, and one or two people had looked at her like she was crazy, but there were some that were pleasantly surprised and returned the sentiment. The fleeting moments of positive interaction helped put her in a good mood. Give out what you want back. Eye contact was harder to maintain, as she had a tendency to quickly look away once she realised she’d been spotted.

  On the plus side, it was pushing her out of her comfort zone, which the book had said was a good thing - the jury was still out on that one. And looking people in the eye meant she wasn’t looking at the ground, which meant she wasn’t slouched over, which meant her posture was better. That was another one; body mirrors mind, mind mirrors body.

  Her good mood lasted all of until about ten minutes after she arrived at school.

  The first indication that something was wrong was that everyone seemed to be avoiding her. Also, all the whispering and furtive glances. They were pretty big tells.

  “Yes?” she finally asked, exasperated, turning from her locker to catch Alison, one of the interchangeable girls in her class, staring at her.

  Alison looked like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. If her eyes opened any wider, they were going to fall out. “Well…are you, you know, like, all right?”

  “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I heard,” she swallowed, “that is, we, we heard, that you’d had a sort of, you know, sort of…breakdown.” She finished the last part timidly, but with a hefty dose of morbid curiosity.

  “What?!”

  “Like, you know, you went -”

  “Okay, Okay, I get it.”

  “- mento. Off the walls, like.” The timidity was rapidly disappearing.

  Aisling forced herself to breath slowly. “No. I didn’t have a breakdown.” Alison looked vaguely disappointed. “Who told you that?”

  “Oh, you know, you hear it around.”

  She didn’t need to paint a picture. There was only one person who’d wilfully spread rumours about her.

  Jake’s girlfriend.

  Now that she was aware of it, all the whispering and not-so-subtle staring stood out worse than before. In class, Aisling kept her eyes fixed forward, while outside, she walked as rapidly as she could to the next one.

  In History, Miss Linsey gave her a secret half-smile, which made her feel slightly better. The knowledge that the teacher was one of a handful that had written personal notes to the headmaster expressing concerns about her wellbeing, only raised Aisling’s estimation of her.

  At lunch, she sat on her own, and unwrapped the sandwiches that her mother had made her. Inside was a small note: Don’t stress today - you rock! It made her smile.

  In the way of thoughts, thinking about her mother made her think about her father, which made her think about what she was doing, which made her think about what she was becoming. It gave her some much needed perspective.

  None of this matters, she thought. She relaxed and ate.

  The week flew by before she realised it. Once she was out of school, she would run home, eat some dinner, do her homework as quick as possible, then go to sleep so she could spend more time in Limbo with her father. He pushed her hard, but she revelled in her newfound abilities. By the time she turned to go to proper sleep, her head was buzzing with questions and possibilities. It was invariably late in the real world, but she didn’t let that push her into sleeping in. When she could, she’d get up and breakfast with her mother. It was quick, but it was pretty much the only time of the day that she got to see her; she was long asleep when her mother finally came home at night. That left her with some time before school to exercise and read a bit. Free time became a luxury that she tried to fill as completely as possible. Sometimes she’d fill it simply by having a second breakfast; her abilities in Limbo seemed to take their toll on her body, and when she woke up in the mornings, she was famished.

  When Thursday rolled around, she remembered that Jake was meant to come over that evening to work on the History assignment. She hadn’t had time to think of it, and rapidly become nervous. He didn’t mention it at all during the day, and every time she went to talk to him about it, he was surrounded and she put it off. Perhaps he’d forgotten. When the final bell rang, she forced herself to go up to him and his group.

  “Hi, um, Jake. Are we still, um, on for History? I mean, do you want to…go? Eh, now?”

  He looked uncomfortable that she was talking to him publicly. “I’ll catch up.”

  “Right. Okay. Right.” She turned and left before her face gave them all sunburn. Behind her she heard one of Jake’s friends say, “Careful now, she’s fragile,” before they all burst out laughing, braying like donkeys.

  Now the red in her cheeks came from anger.

  Jake caught up with her when she was halfway home.

  “Hey,” he said, nudging her with his elbow.

  Now he was all friendly? Aisling said nothing.

  “Listen, ignore Carl. He’s an idiot that’ll believe anything.”

  “Especially when it’s your girlfriend that tells him.”

  She caught him looking sideways at her. “Yeah, well, Amy says a lot of stuff,” he said with a shrug.

  In terms of an apology, it was a pretty poor one. Almost non-existent, in fact. But she accepted it anyway. She didn’t want to sour the mood, especially as he was going to be spending time at her apartment.

  They chatted about nothing, even laughing a few times, and she w
as feeling happier by the time they arrived. On his own, away from his friends, he wasn’t such of an ass. If only he could act like that all the time.

  Jake made no mention of the sparseness of her home - he’d been there before after all, on every other one of their projects - and she fixed them up a quick pasta dinner before they started. She was slightly embarrassed by what she had to offer, but he ate without complaint, smiling over forkfuls of spaghetti. Face to face across the table, she found it hard to look at him. Or rather, she found it hard to look at him without feeling like her desires were painted over her face. To distract from that, she found herself blathering like an idiot.

  So far, it was going swimmingly.

  It was late evening when they finally called it a wrap on the History project.

  “I’ll clean up the phrasing tomorrow morning,” she said, looking up from the desk at him. He was studying her, a small smile on his face, and damn it, she was blushing.

  He seemed to make a decision. “Let me see,” he said, shifting his chair closer to hers, so they were side by side.

  She became acutely aware that their legs were almost touching, and she tried to focus on anything other than his aftershave - not that he had to shave much.

  He gave a semblance of looking at what she’d written, then looked at her. Her eyes wandered from his gaze to his lips and back again.

  “It’s good,” he said, softly.

  I’m sure it is. Wait. “Ha, hm, what?” Was he talking about the project?

  He burst out laughing, nudging her with his arm. Was that deliberate? Had he meant to touch her?

  “Do you always zone out like that?” he asked when he’d calmed down a bit. He was awfully close now. “What were you thinking about?”

  “Hm?” she said, her face flaming. “Nothing.” Perhaps she’d fallen asleep on the table and this was a dream. Please don’t be drooling.

  “Want to know what I think?”

  There was definite breaching of personal space now. She tried to answer, but squeaked instead. She wasn’t sleeping - she was hallucinating.

  “I think you were thinking about what it’d be like if I kissed you, right here, right now.”

  No, she was delusional. His eyes were the only thing she could see. Her heart was thundering and her palms became sweaty.

  It was exhilarating.

  He took one of her hands in his and she squeaked again, cringing inwardly because she could have subtly dried it on her jeans had she known what he was going to do. He leaned in. Holy crap, was this going to happen? Was this even real life anymore?

  Their lips met. The kiss was warm, and wet, and messy, and very, very good. His tongue flicked into her mouth and she nearly jumped. Then she returned it with gusto. She’d win no romance awards, but to hell with it.

  Some time later, they broke apart and she wiped her mouth, feeling the happiest she thought she’d ever felt. Her very skin was buzzing.

  An unwelcome thought dropped by to say hello. “Wait, what about Amy?”

  He didn’t seem bothered. “What about her? I thought you didn’t like her anyway?”

  Amy would never make her Christmas card list, but this was uncharted territory for her.

  “This is just between you and me,” he continued. “It’s our little secret.”

  The idea made her both uncomfortable and thrilled. How often had she watched Jake and Amy from the sidelines, wondering how it would feel to have him looking at her that way?

  “But…”

  “But nothing. Listen, I like you, you’re cute. I think you like me?” An understatement if there ever was one. “Let’s just have some fun together.”

  She still wasn’t at ease with the idea, but her discomfort was overridden by the fact that Jake Shelley had said she was cute.

  He stood up. “I have to go now. We should meet after school tomorrow.”

  She nodded dumbly and followed him to the front door. There, he kissed her again, running a hand up the side of her neck and into her hair, causing her to melt inside.

  When he was gone, she stood looking at the door, unsure if what had actually happened had actually happened. But it had; her slightly raw lips proved it. She was Jake’s secret girlfriend. His secret girlfriend. That was a good thing, right?

  Of course it was. This was great. She felt great.

  Yeah.

  12

  She was back in Limbo, and she was still feeling great. She’d met Jake after school again yesterday and they’d spent a whole hour together in her room. It more than made up for being ignored by him in school, but she supposed that was part and parcel of the whole secret thing. Every time she thought back on it, she had to suppress a smile. Was this what it was like to be in love? No, it was too soon.

  “You’re looking radiant,” her father said as he met her.

  “Oh, things are just looking up,” she replied smugly.

  “Well, I hope you’re ready for the big leagues, kiddo. Tonight we do your first Opening.”

  “Already?! What if I screw it up?”

  “I don’t think you will. You’re a quick learner; you’re learning things faster than I can teach them. It’s time to challenge you a bit.”

  She nodded. “Okay then, let’s do this. I’m ready.” She felt anything but ready. But to back down now would only disappoint her father, and despite herself, she’d been going out of her way to win his approval. “Who are we delivering?”

  “Who are you delivering, and you tell me.”

  “What?”

  “You tell me. You’re able to tell people’s times, so now you need to know how to find them.”

  She looked at all the people walking around them. It’d be like finding a grain of sand on a beach. Was she just supposed to wander around until she happened across someone that was near their time? She looked at her father, who was watching her, an infuriating smile on his lips. No, there had to be an easier way.

  She focused around her, casting her mind out, blocking out everything she could. As people walked about, it seemed like they left a sort of a trail behind them. She flitted between them, sorting rapidly, more through intuition than anything conscious.

  Wait, what was that?

  Her father was still smiling at her. “This way,” she said.

  She set off. She still hadn’t gotten the hang of flying, but she did the next best thing; appearing where she was looking, flickering across the landscape, only stopping long enough in each spot to get her bearings.

  She felt like a dog following a scent. It was hard to say what differentiated this thread from the others. It was almost like it was a different texture, a different flavour.

  Eventually, she came to a small bungalow, about the same size as her apartment. The first one she’d been in with her father had been larger. Perhaps it was based on the Shepherd? She looked around to make sure her father was still behind her, then knocked on the door.

  After a few minutes, a muffled voice called out. “Yes? What is it? Who’s there?”

  “You’ve been waiting on us,” she said. It seemed like the right thing to say.

  The door cracked open, and an eye peeked out. “Ah, yes. You’re right on, em, time.” A small, nervous-looking man opened the door just wide enough for them to enter. When they were inside, he stood before them, rubbing his hands rapidly. “I’d, eh, get you something to drink, but I don’t seem to know where I, ah, am. I’ve never been here before.” He glanced around as if expecting the walls to collapse on him.

  “It’s okay,” she said. Her father seemed content to let her take the lead on this one, and faded into the corner. “We won’t be here long,” she added.

  Okay, that was a little inconsiderate.

  There was no furniture in the room, so she concentrated on making a chair for herself. Once seated, she noticed the man staring at her, open-mouthed. She made a seat for him, and motioned towards it.

  “That’s a very nice, eh, trick,” he said, as he limped over to it and eased
himself down. “So, now what?”

  Now what indeed. “We can wait. And talk, if you want.” She’d originally found the idea of waiting unproductive - when so many people are in need of their services, why waste time? - but her father had stressed its importance on her. People generally needed closure before going through. They wanted to feel like their life had some sort of meaning. Simply sitting and listening helped ease the transition. Besides, he couldn’t hide that he found people’s lives interesting.

  “Oh, okay. What would you, eh, like to talk about?”

  “Tell me a bit about yourself.”

  “Oh, there’s not much to know about me,” he said, shrugging. “I’m just a salesman. Not a very good one either.”

  She found it hard to imagine anybody buying anything from this man, as he exuded timidity and hesitation, but she didn’t say anything. Her place wasn’t to judge. “You must have met a lot of people.”

  “Some. A few. Mostly my time was spent in the, in the car, you know? Traffic, traffic, traffic. I thought I’d, ha, I thought I’d die in that car.” He sobered up, rubbing his leg grimly. “I originally thought the pain was just from sitting too long. I did that a lot; sitting. When I, eh, when I found out, eh, otherwise, well, it was too late. Not that it mattered much. I wouldn’t have been able to, you know, pay, anyway.” He was looking at his hands, as if wondering if all the labour they’d done was pointless.

  Perhaps she shouldn’t interfere, but she hated seeing someone feeling this dark. Removing something in Limbo was much the same as creating. “Pain doesn’t exist here. There’s nothing wrong with your leg.” And she made it so.

  He stared at her, then at his leg. Tentatively, he stretched it out, then flexed it. He jumped out of his seat and bounced on his hips. “Ha, well I’ll be! I wish I could show Mama this.” He looked at her, suddenly full of worry. “Will she know? She’s looking after me, and I feel terrible. She’s too old to be looking after someone.”