by Sara Mack
I nod as I stare at my glass.
“And I’m sorry I lit into you when I found out about the fight. That was wrong of me.”
I give her a small smile. “No apology needed. I deserved it.”
She grimaces. “I don’t know about that.”
I set my glass on the table next to Shel’s. “Do you think Dane will ever speak to me again?”
She gives me a sympathetic look.
“How bad is it?” I ask.
“I haven’t talked to him.”
“But Matt has?”
She sighs. “I asked him if he would talk to Dane, to see if things could be worked out. I knew you were feeling bad and thought maybe, after some time, you could at least be friends again.”
“And?” I cringe.
“Matt’s unsure if that can happen. He said Dane’s got a lot going on right now and any contact from you would probably be a bad idea. He said he needs time to sort things out.”
I frown, but nod in understanding. What did I expect?
“It’s only been two weeks,” Shel reassures me. “Things will get better. There’s nothing that a little time can’t heal.”
I’m not so sure about that. She wasn’t there; she didn’t see the look on Dane’s face. It was as if I had reached into his chest and pulled out his beating heart with my bare hands.
We hear a knock on the door, and Shel jumps up to open it. I turn to see Matt walk backward through the doorway carrying two bags of take out, both balanced in his arms and tucked under his chin. “Some guy let me in at the front door,” he says as he turns to us. He walks over, puts the bags down on the counter, and smiles. “Who’s hungry?”
I give him a weary glance and slowly rise to get some plates. He looks suspiciously at me and then at Shel. “Oh, I took the liberty of picking up one of these,” he adds, opening the second plastic bag dramatically. It’s a small chocolate cake. It doesn’t bring the reaction he was hoping for, and he looks at me confused.
“Thanks,” I say and stop to give him a one-armed hug. I hang on a little longer than necessary and he notices. His eyes dart to Shel accusingly.
“Aw, hell. You told her we knew, didn’t you?”
Chapter 2
The next morning, I wake to find Shel still asleep next to me. I stare at the ceiling recalling how odd, yet great, this birthday was. I’m so thankful for my friends.
Shel and Matt decided to stay the night; despite Matt’s annoyance with my crappy 24-inch tube TV and lack of surround sound. I reminded him at least I had cable, and James had been the one with all the hi-tech toys, not me. His teasing stopped after that. There was no further mention of Dane, thankfully, and the three of us spent the evening eating cake, watching the Tigers, and reminiscing. We’ve been friends since we were ten, and that includes James. Matt once told me he and Shel felt like James was still a part of their lives by spending time with me. I love that.
Around midnight, Matt fell asleep on my less-than-ideal loveseat, so Shel and I crammed ourselves into my full-size bed with the kitten. We spent another hour trying to come up with a name for her. By the time I drifted off, we were leaning toward Little Booger.
Speaking of, where is she? I raise my head to look around my bedroom and can’t find her. I pull back the blanket and swing my legs off the side of the bed, silently hoping she hasn’t fallen in the toilet. I take a few steps across the hall to the bathroom and turn on the light. Nope. No cat swimming here. I turn and head into the living room and stop short. There, on the couch, is perhaps the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
Matt remains asleep on his back, his body weight causing my loveseat’s sad springs to sag low. He’s a big guy, and his long legs overflow one end. His head is wedged at an odd angle between the corner of the armrest and the back of the couch; I can barely make out his blonde hair. He looks incredibly uncomfortable. But there, in the center of his chest, lies Little Booger. She’s curled up asleep, in a contented little ball, soothed by the rise and fall of Matt’s breathing. I can hear her loud purr as his two huge hands surround her in a protective little nest. I have to take a picture.
I sprint back into my bedroom and grab my phone off the nightstand. I creep into the living room and get as close as I dare so as not to wake them. I take the picture and then look at it, smiling at my memento. Yep, this was a pretty awesome birthday.
A day later, my parents paid me a visit to celebrate. They were infatuated with Little Booger, almost as if she were a grandchild. At first I thought it was strange, but then I remembered they treat my brother’s dog, Jake, the same way. They weren’t too impressed with my choice of name for her though, so I think I’ll shorten it to LB. And, of course, they brought me birthday gifts. The first bag held two new outfits, while the second contained a box of Bisquick. My dad explained it was his contribution, so I could learn to make pancakes. I laughed when I opened it. No one can make pancakes like my dad.
I spent the majority of Labor Day weekend with my parents, since they decided to make an extended trip of my birthday and stay at a local hotel. They wouldn’t admit it, but I think the main reason for their mini-vacation was to make sure I was safe on my own so far away from home. I know they are worried about me. James was by my side for two years at WMU, not to mention I was attacked this past summer by a former classmate. I understand their concern. This is new territory for me – and for them.
As I finish reminiscing, I get ready to attend my first class of my senior year. I’m ecstatic. I finally have something to do with my time, other than dwell on the past. I hope my schedule of Analytical Foundations, Communication in Business, Intro to Ethics, and Business Statistics will give me a lot of homework. I stop and make a face at myself in the mirror.
Really Emma? Get a life.
I comb my hair and pull it into a ponytail, noticing it looks more auburn than brown these days. I quickly apply a pale green eye shadow over the light skin of my eyelids, throw on some clear lip gloss, and turn off the bathroom light. My morning routine is not very intricate.
As I head out the door, I bend down and kiss LB. “Be good,” I remind her as she watches me go. I have a feeling she’ll be getting into my hair ties again. “I’ll be home in a few hours.” I shut and lock the door behind me, then try the knob for good measure.
“Hey there.”
I look over and see my neighbor, Garrett, leaving his place as well. We haven’t spoken since I first moved in; since the day he told me his name and I acted all shocked and flustered. I’ve never met another Garrett in my life; the odds of my neighbor having the same name as James’ Guardian mentor had to be a thousand to one.
Garrett looks overdressed, even though I have no idea where he is headed. He’s wearing pressed khaki’s and a blue button-down shirt, which make his odd turquoise eyes really stand out. He looks like he just came from the barber; his brown hair is cut neatly on the sides but still wavy on the top. His skin also looks more tan than I remember. “Hey,” I give him a small smile.
“Headed to class?” he asks.
“Yep.”
“Which one?”
“Intro to Ethics,” I say as I walk toward him and the front door. “You?”
He smiles. “The same. Who’ve you got?”
I reach into my bag and pull out my schedule. I didn’t memorize my instructor’s names. “Johnson.”
“Well, that’s a coincidence. So do I.”
My mind unwillingly flashes to Patrick, the lab partner that decided he liked me a bit too much and signed up for all the same classes as me. The same person that James changed schools to protect me from. The exact same person that attacked me over the summer. I push the image away. This is a coincidence. Not all people are psychos. Just to make sure, I ask Garrett what other classes he has this semester.
“American Military History, Entrepreneurship, and Small Business Management.”
I breathe easier. He opens the front door and stands aside. “After you.”
“T
hanks.”
We head to campus together. On a nice day like today it’s about a ten minute walk, but when winter hits I’ll be driving for sure. “So, where are you from?” I ask.
“Hope Mills, North Carolina.”
“Oh.” I was expecting him to say a city in Michigan. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a small town.”
“What made you choose Western?”
“I heard it’s an excellent school for business majors.”
We reach the street corner and pause for the light to change. “My major is Management. Have you had Pittinger for Organizational Behavior yet?”
Garrett shakes his head. “Nope, I just transferred. This is my first semester here.”
“Well, avoid her,” I give him words of advice. “Like the plague.”
He laughs as the light changes, and we cross the street.
“So,” he asks me, “did you get a cat or do you have some sort of mewling alarm clock?”
I shoot him an apologetic look. “You can hear her? I’m sorry. She’s just a kitten.”
“Only in the morning,” he says, “before I’ve had my coffee. I thought I was hearing things without the caffeine.”
“No, that would be LB.” I shake my head. “She’s quite demanding when she’s hungry.”
“LB?” he asks.
“Little Booger.” I look at him sheepishly. “It’s the best name Shel and I could come up with. Obviously she’s living up to the title.”
He chuckles. “Is Shel your friend with the red in her hair?”
His question makes me pause. How would he have seen Shel?
“And Matt’s her boyfriend?”
I stop on the sidewalk. “How…how do you know my friends?”
He stops a few steps ahead of me. “I don’t. They were over last week, right? I ran into the guy carrying some bags and let him in. He introduced himself.” He walks back toward me. The expression on my face must alarm him because he says, “I didn’t mean to startle you. Again.”
I blink and resume walking. “Sorry.” I feel like an idiot.
He falls into step beside me, and we make it to the next corner. We wait for the signal to change and then cross the street in silence. Halfway up the block, he clears his throat. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t.” I give him a reassuring look and, wanting to shift the focus off me, ask, “Do you go home to visit often?”
Garrett’s jaw tenses. “I don’t think I’ll be going home anytime soon. I left for a reason. No one knows where I am.”
That sounds serious. “Are you in the witness protection program?” I half-heartedly joke.
One side of his mouth quirks up. “No.”
I don’t know why, but I feel sorry for Garrett. It must be rough without having any friends or family to talk to. “Well, if you need anything, I’m right next door.”
He flashes me a smile.
We make it to the edge of campus and start to cross over to the main building. Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see James. Surprised, I inhale sharply and turn to my left, my heart skipping a beat. My eyes search the bench where I thought he was seated and find it empty. I frown as disappointment washes over me.
“Everything all right?” Garrett asks.
I nod and continue to walk, giving him a lame smile. Suddenly, to my right, I see James again, casually leaning against a light post. I catch myself smiling and take a step to rush and greet him. He appears to ignore me, and I stop in my tracks. I blink, and he vanishes.
“Are you sure?” Garrett asks.
I’m starting to wonder. My gaze shifts to the left. James is there, walking in my direction, although he doesn’t appear to notice me. I close my eyes, then open them to look forward. Sure enough, I see him again, but now he is standing several feet away beneath a maple tree, oblivious to my presence. If he were truly here, he would at least make eye contact or speak. My breathing becomes erratic as I realize I’m seeing things.
Garrett steps into my line of vision. “You look pale. Did you eat this morning?”
I nod. I had a banana and a granola bar.
All of a sudden, blood starts to pound behind my ears, and I’m having a hard time hearing and focusing. Garrett’s face blurs before my eyes. I don’t understand what’s happening. Is this some sort of post-traumatic stress breakdown?
I feel Garrett grab ahold of my elbow. “I think you need to sit down.” He leads me over to a nearby planter box where I gratefully take a seat. I hold my head in my hands in an attempt to make the pulsating stop. It only grows worse and more painful.
“What’s wrong?” he worriedly asks. His voice sounds muffled to me.
“I think I’m getting a headache,” I say as I lean forward to rest my elbows on my knees. James’ face appears in front of me, even as I stare at the ground. When his image is the only thing that will stay in focus, I close my eyes. My first time back on campus without him is messing with my head.
“Do you have a fever?”
It sounds like Garrett has moved to crouch in front of me. I feel his hand rest against my forehead to check my temperature. It’s freezing cold. Maybe I do have a fever.
“Okay, now you’re shaking,” he observes as he removes his hand.
I sit up and attempt to open my eyes. Things are hazy, my ears feel hot, and with every beat of my heart my temples pulse in pain.
“Does it hurt?” he asks as he sits on his heels in front of me.
I nod.
“Do you trust me?”
I narrow my eyes in confusion. Do I trust him? I barely know him. But the longer he stares at me with those odd turquoise eyes the calmer I feel. “Do you wear contacts?” I ask absentmindedly.
“That’s not what I asked,” he says.
Right. Trust. “I guess I trust you.”
He nods decisively and stands. He looks around, as if making sure no one is watching, and then places his hands on either side of my head, just above my ears.
“What are you…?”
“Quiet,” he tells me.
He closes his eyes as he applies gentle pressure to my head. When he does this, it feels like all the pain and fuzziness gathers at the top, like he’s pushing it there. A moment later, frigid air blasts through my body, traveling from the top of my head down through my toes, taking my pain with it. It happens so fast I don’t have time to react.
Garrett opens his eyes and releases my head. “How do you feel?”
I look at him in awe. I feel good. Actually, I feel better than good. I feel amazing. I feel energized, like I could run a marathon. My blood sings in my veins.
“How did you…what was that?” I ask him, shocked. “The pain is gone.”
He glances at his watch, like what he did was no big deal. “We have to get moving or we’re going to be late.”
I stand, and we head toward the main building. I feel like skipping; I have so much energy. I try to contain myself. “How did you do that?” I whisper.
He holds the door open for me. “It’s called reiki.”
“Reiki? I’ve never heard of anything like it.”
When we find our classroom, Garrett takes a seat next to me. I fish my textbook out of my bag, set it on the desk, and then look over at him. “Thank you. I don’t know how I would have made it through this class without your help.”
He nods and then opens his book, pretending to be interested in the first few pages. I get the feeling that he doesn’t want to discuss it anymore, so I drop the subject.
Eventually, Ms. Johnson arrives to begin class. I have to force myself to concentrate on what she’s telling us. I make a mental note to research reiki when I get home. I’m finding it hard to focus, but in a good way. My body still feels like it’s humming.
Intro to Ethics is my only class on Tuesdays. Afterward, I stop and get a significantly more substantial lunch compared to what I ate for breakfast. I also stop by the library to reserve two of the reco
mmended reading books assigned by Ms. Johnson. Better to be safe than sorry. I get caught up in the fiction books for a while, and before I know it, it’s almost four o’clock. By now, LB may have very well torn up the place.
I make my way back across campus toward my apartment. The feeling from the reiki has subsided to an almost non-existence, and I’m starting to feel a little tired. I make it off campus and to the first cross street without any reoccurrence of my James-induced trauma fit. I silently pray that it will never happen again.
As I approach my place, I see a large industrial van parked in the street. Two men are busy at the back, setting up a ramp for a delivery. As I get closer, I notice the truck appears to be full of furniture. The front door to my building is propped open, so I maneuver around them with a smile and head inside.
“Excuse me?”
I turn around.
“Are you Emma Donohue?”
I hesitate as I make eye contact with the burly delivery man. “Yes.”
“We have a delivery for you.” He grabs a clipboard off the back of the truck and walks toward the door. “I need you to sign here and here.” He marks each spot with an X.
I take the clipboard from him, confused. I read the invoice. It’s for a couch and a television. An expensive couch and television. And it’s marked PAID IN FULL. “I didn’t order these things.” I hand the clipboard back to him. “There must be some mistake.”
The man looks over the billing. “Hmm. Let me see.”
Just then my cell beeps, letting me know I have a voicemail. Funny, I didn’t hear it ring. While the delivery men try to figure out the mistake, I pull my phone from my bag. There’s a missed call from my parents, probably my mom. I touch the screen to clear the alert, and notice I have a missed text as well. My phone must not get a signal in the library. Since Jim Bob and Darryl haven’t figured out the problem yet, I decide to read the text.
Someone told me you needed a few things. They should be delivered today. Happy belated birthday.