by E. J. Mellow
— 28 —
“YOU GUYS MADE great time.” My dad takes my bag from my shoulder as we walk into the house. “We’re just about to sit down for dinner.”
My parents live in one of those stucco cookie-cutter houses in a gated community in Pennsylvania. If it wasn’t for my mom’s obsession with flamingos, I would have mistaken any of the identical facades as my home as a kid. But luckily, the bright-pink birds stuck in our front flowerbed were the perfect homing device when coming back from playing at a neighbor’s.
“Molly!” My mom brings me in for a hug. “Oh, you feel too skinny. Have you been eating?”
“Nice to see you too, Mom.” I step back as she practically jumps into Becca’s arms.
“You’re even taller than I remember. Ack, and that hair!” My mom fluffs Becca’s already-voluminous mane.
“Kathy, I want to introduce you to my boyfriend, Rae.” Becca smiles up to him, and my mom practically falls over, taking in his height and build.
“Oh my…”
“Hi, Mrs. Spero.” Rae holds out his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Kathy, please, and I hope it’s been from Becca and not Molly,” she says wryly, shooting me a glance. “We also only give hugs in this house, not handshakes.”
He chuckles and leans down to wrap his arms around her.
“Charles, look! I disappeared!” Mom mumbles to my dad as she indeed vanishes within Rae’s large embrace. Becca and I crack up.
“Sorry about that, Rae.” My dad shakes his head. “She doesn’t get out much.”
My mom tsks, stepping back. “And whose fault is that?”
“I leave the door wide open for you all the time.”
She smacks his arm. “Come on, you three. Let’s leave before he starts to think he has an audience for his jokes.”
“So easily she forgets,” my Dad faux whispers to Rae, “that I have legs and can follow.”
After leaving the comic parade to put my bag in my room, I head back downstairs to look for my grandfather. I find him in the living room, his glasses at the edge of his nose as he reads a book and twirls a pen in his hand, ready for the moment when he sees something worth underlining. Even at ninety years old he’s maintained a youthful aura, never really falling into the typical grandparent routine. His flannel shirt is tucked into his dark-blue jeans, and he rocks rather stylish sneakers. Taking in his peaceful presence, I marvel that this is the same person I saw brutally and fluidly destroying Metus, that he’s a Dreamer just like me.
“Hey, Grandpa.”
He glances up from his text, his face breaking into a grin. “Molly! Your dad told me you were coming home for the weekend.”
I lean down to give him a hug. “How are you feeling today?”
“Good, good. Selma leaves me alone more now that I’m here, so I can’t complain.”
“She’s only trying to help,” I say, talking about his part-time nurse.
“Help annoy me.”
“Grandpa.” I laugh. “Don’t be a curmudgeonly old man. You’re better than to fall into a stereotype.”
“I’m in my nineties. I can be however I want to be.”
“Fair enough.” I hold up my hands in submission and take a seat on the ottoman next to him. “I know better than to argue with that.”
“Yes you do.” He closes his book. “So, how have you been feeling, sweetheart? I haven’t seen you since before the accident. You look well enough.”
I glance around to make sure Becca wasn’t around to hear that. “I’m fine, but actually…I, uh, wanted to ask you something about that.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Well, my dad said you got hit too, when you were a child?”
My grandfather’s eyes go out of focus for a moment. “Yes, I was thirteen. I’ve never felt that kind of pain. It’s enough to kill a man.”
I nod in agreement. “It’s weird, isn’t it? That we’ve both gotten struck by lightning.”
“Extremely.”
“Did you…did you ever have strange dreams after?”
His eyes lock with mine. “Dreams?”
“Yeah, problems sleeping?”
“Did your mom put you up to this?” He leans back in his chair.
“No.” I frown. “Why?”
He studies me. “Are you having strange dreams, Molly?”
My pulse quickens. Time to go out on the ledge. “Yes, very. Lifelike strange.”
We sit there, staring at one another, a million questions spinning through my mind of what my next move should be. Do I just tell him? Does he even remember? If he doesn’t, will he think I’m crazy? And if he does, will the overwhelming knowledge that I’m also a Dreamer send him into cardiac arrest?
My grandfather opens his mouth to say something, when my mom walks in. “There you two are. Molly, come help me set the table. Robert, we’ll be eating in five.”
I remain watching him, waiting for him to say whatever he was about to say, but he doesn’t. Instead he looks over my shoulder to my mom and tells her he’ll be right in. I slump in disappointment.
“Are you coming, Molly?” Mom persists.
“Yeah.” I stand, taking one more glance at my grandfather. For the briefest of moments, our gazes collide, but then he looks away, staring off at nothing and making me doubt he remembers anything at all.
—∞—
“So why didn’t Jared tag along?” Mom asks as we sit down for dinner.
Becca glances at me, brows pinched in.
“Um, because we broke up.”
My mom blinks wide. “Oh, well, that’s just…I’m sorry to hear that. When did this happen?”
“Last week.”
Becca turns to my mom. “She didn’t tell you when she c—”
“I had a lot going on.” I cut Becca off. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention anything before. It’s been…hard.”
I catch a curious glance from my grandfather, and I wish desperately that we weren’t eating right now so we could talk. He has to know. He has to remember.
“Of course, sweetie.” My mom covers my hand. “But what happened? You two seemed so good together.”
“We wanted different things.”
“Like what?” She frowns.
“Just different things.”
“Yes, you said that, but what kind?”
“Oh, leave the poor girl alone,” my grandfather pipes in. “Not everyone is so pleated and ironed out like you and Charles.”
“Well.” My mom picks up her wine. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You can take it as a to-go bag if you like—just let Molly share when she wants to share.”
My dad chuckles under his breath, and my mom purses her lips at him before turning to me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Just want to see you happy.”
“I know, Mom, but don’t worry. I am.”
She nods, seemingly mollified, and I look at my grandfather, but he’s now preoccupied with trying to stab a cherry tomato.
“And how is everything else? Have you needed to see Dr. Marshall?” Mom asks, referring to the doctor who saw me at the hospital after I got struck.
“No, after my last check-in, I haven’t needed to go back.”
“That’s good.” She cuts into her meal. “Though…maybe you should make an appointment to see him again.”
My brows crease. “Why? I feel fine.”
“Yes, but now that you’re single…”
Becca’s eyes go wide across from me.
“Oh my God, Mom, are you telling me I should go back to the hospital to see if I can score with the doctor?”
“What?” She glances at me innocently. “He was young and good looking and a doctor.”
“Unbelievable.” I shake my head.
“You never told me he was good looking.” Becca leans in, mirth in her gaze.
“Gee, I wonder why that skipped my attention? Oh, that’s right…because I just got hit by lightning.”
Rae
laughs next to me and then presses his lips together when he meets my glare.
“Still, that’s an important detail to leave out,” Becca continues.
“Why?” I cross my arms.
“Because then I would have definitely gone with you for your checkup.”
“I think I should be offended right now.” Rae raises his brows at her.
“Oh no, there’s nothing to worry about, babe.” Becca slides him a grin. “I’m just an appreciator of fine-looking gentlemen. I can’t pass up a chance to see one in the wild.”
“Here, here.” My mom raises her glass and takes a sip.
“I don’t know why women always say men are the pigs.” My dad casually shakes pepper onto his potatoes. “From the sound of you two, women are way worse.”
“No.” My mom peers at him over the rim her glass. “We just have more finesse when it comes to observing the opposite sex. While you brutes resort to catcalls.”
“Really? Well, if my memory’s still intact, I remember a certain individual whistling at me the other night when—”
“La la la, daughter in the room! Daughter in the room!” I desperately cover my ears while Becca and Rae try to control their laughter. My parents stop their banter, thank God, but still eye each other across the table. Gross. My grandfather merely looks around, confused, seeming to have missed the whole conversation. Lucky bastard.
Dinner continues with the usual Spero chatter, but, wonderfully, with no more sexual innuendos. Even with the almost-suffocating desire to speak with my grandfather, I begin to relax for the first time in a while and actually allow myself to enjoy my time with my family. That is until we have one or two more close calls with Becca almost mentioning my trip home last weekend. When she eventually excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and with the advantage of my parents indulged with their own discussion, I lean over to Rae next to me. “You cannot let her be alone with them at any point this weekend.”
He nods in agreement.
“This is turning into a total shit show,” I mumble.
“What did you say, sweetheart?” my mom asks.
“Oh, um, I was just asking Rae if he likes Shih Tzus.”
“Shih Tzus?” My dad frowns. “Furry rats, if you ask me.”
“Well, luckily, no one did, dear.”
“I love side shows,” says my grandfather.
“What was that, Dad?”
“Side shows.” My grandfather points his fork at Rae. “What Molly just asked her friend about. I love ’em.”
“No, Shih Tzus,” my father says slowly.
“A what?”
“It’s a type of dog,” Mom clarifies. “Shih Tzu.”
My grandfather frowns. “Why the hell would anyone name a dog Shit?”
On a choked laugh, Rae spits out some of his wine, and I pat him on the back. Yup, total Shih Tzu of a weekend.
—∞—
“Where’s Grandpa?” I ask my dad, who’s laid out on the couch with Rae, watching—no shocker here—Die Hard.
“He went to sleep.”
My heart sinks. “Already?”
“Yeah, said he wasn’t feeling well. He usually goes to bed earlier than this, but wanted to stay up to have dinner with all of us.”
“Oh.”
Rae looks to me, a silent question in his gaze. I shake my head, and he gives me an encouraging there’s always tomorrow smile.
Walking out to the back patio, I find my mom and Becca lounging around the fire pit, drinking wine. Awesome. Nice job, Rae, making sure Becca wasn’t alone with one of them.
“Here, Pop-Tart, we poured you one.” Becca hands me a glass.
“Thanks.” I take a seat in one of the cushiony chairs.
“Becca was just telling me about how she met Rae”—my mom smiles—“and that it’s all because of you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.” Becca nods. “If you never went up to get us drinks that night, I might never have met him.”
“That’s true.” I burrow into the pillows around me. “So, I guess this means you have to name your firstborn after me.”
“How about my first goldfish?”
“You hate fish. You’ll never get one of those.”
“Exactly.” She smiles wide, and I shake my head.
“So ungrateful.”
“Fine. How about our first car?”
“Deal.” We raise our glasses in an agreement.
“You two are so strange.” My mom refills her wine, even though I’m pretty sure she doesn’t need to.
“So Grandpa seems like he’s doing better. He was extremely lucid at dinner,” I say to my mom.
“Oh, lucidity was never the issue. During the day, he’s always as sharp as a tack. It’s the night terrors that make us think he’s suffering from dementia.”
“Night terrors?”
“Yeah, you know, waking up in a fright and declaring all sorts of crazy things.”
I work hard to control my breathing. “What kinds of things?”
My mom thinks about it for a second. “Well, like the other night, he woke up screaming someone’s name and how he needed to get back. He was all out of sorts. Wouldn’t listen when we told him it was just a dream.”
My heart wants to leap from my chest. “Whose name?”
My mom wiggles her hand dismissively. “No one your dad or I have ever heard of. But,” she says, lowering her voice, “if you ask me, I think he had an affair.”
“While he was with Grandma?” My brows rise.
“Mhmm.” She takes a sip of her wine.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because the name he’s always yelling is a woman’s, and it’s not hers.”
My surroundings fall away for a second, taking in this news.
“Oh wow.” Becca’s eyes grow wide. “Do you really think so?”
“Charles doesn’t, of course, being that they’re his parents, but why else would a man in his nineties suddenly be calling out for a woman that’s not his wife, while he’s asleep?”
“Ain’t that the question of the year.” Becca lifts her glass in a salute, and my mom giggles before doing the same. I zone out to the rest of their conversation as my eyes find the outside of my grandfather’s bedroom. As I stare at the darkened window, I can’t help wondering if the man sleeping inside is a preview of my future.
— 29 —
THE AIR IS colder than normal, and I wrap my arms around my legs as I gaze out to the lit-up city in the distance, watching as a form slowly approaches. The stars zip by in a constant stream overhead, and the field sways in a gentle breeze. I rest my head against the trunk of my tree.
“Why didn’t you meet me on the platform?” Dev takes a seat beside me.
“I needed the silence.”
“Your family that overwhelming?” He smiles.
“I haven’t been able to talk with my grandfather yet.”
“You’ll find time.”
I close my eyes and lean into him as his fingers brush back my hair. “I think he knows about me though. I tried hinting at it without overwhelming him.”
“How did he respond?”
“That’s the confusing thing. He didn’t. Not really anyway, not the way I would have expected him to.” Dev stays silent, letting me talk it out. “I just don’t understand why Elena wouldn’t tell me what happened to him, what happened to any of them. I mean, my grandfather’s alive, so they couldn’t all have died, right? Well, I know the rest are dead because of time, that they aren’t like walking around hundreds of years old or anything.” I pull at the grass by my feet. “But I guess that’s the thing—they could be. Maybe being a chosen Dreamer gives you immortality or something. I wouldn’t know though, because Elena doesn’t tell me crap.” I turn to him. “I just don’t get why there’s still all these secrets? I thought I was past that with this place.”
“Who knows why Elena or any of the elders do the things they do. I mean, look at the Nocturna. We had no clue
that Dreamers existed in Terra until recently, and the majority of us still don’t. And we’ve worked closely with the Vigil for hundreds and hundreds of years.”
“Yeah, that’s dumb.”
“Well, let’s hope your grandfather can shed some light to all this.”
I sigh. “Yeah.”
“Come on.” Dev nudges my side before standing. “Help me do my rounds.”
“Where’s Aveline?”
“With Hector.”
“Oh, I wanted to talk to him.”
“Why?” He turns to me with a glower.
“Easy there, I just want to ask him about my grandfather. Because they knew each other, and all that.” I follow his still-tense back as he begins to patrol the perimeter. “Why do you hate him so much anyway?”
“I don’t hate him.”
“Dev.” I give him a don’t bullshit me look.
“I don’t. I’m just…not particularly fond of him.”
“Okay, so why are you not particularly fond of him?”
“He hangs with a crowd I don’t find to be the best influence for Aveline.” He kneels down to inspect a chunk of simmering lava in the grass—Metus droppings. Yum. I glance around to see if there are any nearby, but the night is dark and calm, the air clear of the scent of decay.
“What kind of people?”
We continue to walk forward. “Remember when we were at that nightclub?”
My body instantly warms recalling the night that he and I danced together. How could I forget? “Um, yes.”