Transitions

by Jesikah Sundin

  “He’s taking Coral and Devon back to the underground.”

  “Oh,” she said through more spurts of smothered giggles. “You look hot, not that you needed help. But now you don’t look like New Eden.”

  Fillion halted mid-stride. “What?”

  “I couldn’t stand it.” Lynden fell into him and laughed. Fillion held her up by the waist, his posture rigid. “Aww, now you’re mad at me.” She patted his cheek. “Poor Fillion. Be death. Stop trying to live. It’s not you. You’ll never make sense of the universe. Is this why you’re studying astrophysics?” Her eyes widened. “Can you read the stars? Is my name in the sky next to Coal’s?” She snorted another laugh at the thought, flinging her arm toward the wall of windows. “Starlight, star bright—”

  “Almost there.” Gently, he turned her around and said, “The door is a few steps away.”

  “No!” Lynden pushed him away and staggered back. “I don’t want to sleep! I’m tired of sleeping!”

  “You don’t have to sleep.”

  “I’m so tired.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” Fillion inched toward her. “It’s hard to remain strong when it feels like any move will bring your destruction. I get it.”

  Lynden stared at him, tears forming despite the sputters of laughter. He took another step closer and she blinked in confusion. “Why did he choose to be more honest with Dad than me? Never mind. I know why. I tried to become a CCG. Damaged goods.”

  “It has nothing to do with that.”

  “How would you know? God, you think you know everything. Pisses me off!”

  He exhaled deep and long. “I just know.”

  “Of course you do. Everyone knows but me.” With a roar, Lynden grabbed an empty cup and threw it at Fillion. The trajectory veered far left and the cup hit a wall and shattered. Her brother’s eyes grew wide. Infuriated, fists clenched at her sides, Lynden screamed, “I’m not invisible! And I’m not stupid!”

  “I see you.” Fillion closed the distance in quick strides and circled his arms around her. “Come on, Sis.”

  “You haven’t called me that in ages.”

  He whispered in her ear. “I see you. I always see you.”

  “But you think I’m dumb.”

  “No, I think you’re bored with life and want more, but very little holds meaning.” Fillion pulled back and wiped away the angry tear that had escaped its prison and ran down her cheek. “I ... I want to show you something.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll show you once we’re in your room. Ready?”

  She nodded and he led her down the hallway and into her room. With a dispirited sigh, she sank onto her bed, covered in swirls of dark and light gray sheets and blankets, as her brother turned on a lamp. Fingers of dusky golden light undulated on the plum walls in a sickening wave and she pressed a hand to her temple. Fillion knelt next to her and unstrapped her knee length boots, pulling one off and then the other. When finished, he remained on his knees and began unwrapping the gauze that covered the tattoo on her wrist. Unraveling the last fold, he held up her arm for her to see.

  Green linden leaves on winding brown twigs with dainty, ivory flower clusters circled her wrist. The delicate design was beautiful and Lynden sucked in a sharp breath, mesmerized by the intricate details. Her eyes shot to her brother’s and held his gaze, tears dangerously on the edge of falling once again.

  “In New Eden,” he whispered, “the linden is known as the tree of love and truth.” Fillion’s face softened and he blinked nervously. As his face grew more bashful, he struggled to keep eye contact. “I ... I love you, Lynden. You’re my world. I thought of you every day when I was in New Eden, and in detention, and while I’m at MIT. Being away from you makes me crazy.”

  She whispered, “I had no idea.”

  “Don’t listen to the lies.” He chanced a look her way. “If it’s hard, look at the linden leaves to remember the truth.”

  “That I’m awesome?”

  “Yeah.” A corner of his mouth tipped up again. “And that I love you. No matter what. Even when I’m away.”

  Laughter mixed with tears and she blurted, “Did you know I threw away Coal’s bracelet?”

  “That’s why I made it permanent.”

  “I’d never throw away our love,” Lynden said, patting his cheek again. She snorted another laugh and leaned her forehead onto his shoulder until the rumble of giggles passed and somber emotions moved back in. Nibbling on her bottom lip ring, she eventually whispered into his neck, “I thought he was different.”

  Her brother’s chest expanded and he held his breath for a couple of seconds. Slowly, he exhaled and whispered back, “Love has little to do with romance and everything to with honor.”

  “That’s beautiful.” She took her brother’s right hand and twisted the black ring on his thumb, the one that matched hers. Next, she fondled his wedding band, worn on the opposite ring finger since the annulment, and said, “I don’t understand, though.”

  “He honors you.”

  Lynden stared at his rings as her lips trembled. “No, he used me.”

  “Hanley used you.”

  “Coal hasn’t tried to contact me.”

  “You told him not to. But he will. Trust me.”

  “Dad wanted us to break up so your relationship with Akiko could shine.” Lynden sat up and mumbled, “I guess me and Coal were too bright and stole the spotlight or something.”

  Fillion raised an eyebrow. “Otaku sites say your relationship was so hot it melted the sun.”

  “That’s the problem. The world spun around us instead of you.”

  Her brother smiled. “Nice.”

  “I’m not dumb, Mr. Astrophysics. I hated school, but I’m not dumb.”

  “Then do the smart thing.”

  “I don’t want to do a thing.” Lynden fell back against her pillow in a deflated heap. “And stop telling me what to do, asshole.”

  “Afraid?”

  “Terrified.”

  “You can never lie when drunk, you know that?” Fillion eased up to the edge of her bed and bounced up and down playfully. She snorted again and gave him a push, but he remained fixed, a stubborn wall of arrogant mischief. “Let’s see ... do I have a unicorn with heart eyes on my forearm?”

  She snapped both hands over her mouth to hold back a loud laugh.

  “Is it the word ‘twinsies’ in katakana?”

  She shook her head back and forth.

  “Mack’s hand flipping me off?”

  “Oh god, I’ll do that next time. Nah, he’ll be scratching his ass.” Lynden shoved Fillion with her foot. “Look already!”

  Fillion removed the gauze wrap around his forearm and his features transformed to glass. His eyes, however, reflected everything. Fillion was always more transparent than her, a quality she admired in him. Rolling onto her knees, Lynden rested her head on his shoulder from behind and reached around his back to trace her finger over the reddened skin. An oak tree with sprawling branches and long leaves stretched over his right forearm, the roots tangling into a Celtic knot on his wrist, to match the bicep band on the same arm.

  “It’s perfect,” her brother whispered, breathless. The sound of his voice echoed the ache in her heart. “I was too afraid to ... to...” He didn’t finish, clenching his jaw instead. After a few seconds, he turned around to see her face. Gray eyes hardened to steel and bore into her with such fierceness, she almost flinched. “You played into Hanley’s plan. Don’t let him win.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  He shook his head. “Not the same.”

  “Seems the same—”

  “Lynden,” he said her name softly. “Hanley is preventing the legal act of marriage before a court of law, not a relationship. Don’t confuse the two.”

  Her heart stilled. “But—”

  “Akiko is going to hate this tattoo.” A full grin transformed her brother’s face and her thoughts stumbled. “Ms. Bat-shit-crazy will cry. Good job.”


  If he was trying to distract her, it worked. She tried to curtsy but fell over in a fit of alcohol-induced giggles. Lynden curled up on top of her bed, a hand wrapped around her stomach. The humor eased a few seconds later and she rolled to her back. The linden leaf tattoo caught her eye and the giant stone in her stomach churned around clenched knots of anxiety. Fillion lifted her blankets and covered her.

  “Will you play your guitar?” she asked him. “It keeps the monsters away.”

  “Sure.”

  He mumbled a “will be right back” comment as he passed through her doorway. A minute later, he returned, his guitar in hand. The wood shimmered a vibrant, neon blue that faded to gray then black, meant to resemble the wings of a blue morpho butterfly. He told her the metaphor behind it once, but she couldn’t remember the significance in the thick fog that fumed her brain.

  “Any requests?” he asked as he settled into a chair.

  “What you were playing when I came home this afternoon.”

  Head bowed, hair falling over his eyes, his fingers began plucking a minor melody. He played one song after another, each one as haunting and beautiful as the last. At some point, Mack returned home and leaned against her doorframe, smoking a cigarette. She lifted tear-stained eyes to Mack, who winked at her. She offered a feeble smile in reply.

  A pocket of loneliness transformed into a rainbow of butterflies and fluttered away despite their punctured wings. A layer of oppression melted off of her with their escape and a tiny spark of hope flickered in her darkness. Lynden closed her eyes, satisfied that the shadows wouldn’t visit, and allowed her brother’s music to carry her away with the butterflies.

  The next morning, Lynden trundled into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. A beating pain hammered in her head and she groaned. Popping the side tray out of the coffee maker, she scooped new grounds. She then removed the water container and shuffled toward the sink and froze in horror. Beside the sink lay a handful of ceramic shards that once made up her unicorn mug.

  “What the hell?” she whispered under her breath.

  Peering over the counter in a panic, she scanned the living room until her eyes rested on a hole in the wall. Damn. She remembered screaming at Fillion. She remembered pain bursting from her like beams of exploding light. She didn’t remember throwing anything.

  Her heart sank and she sucked in a sharp breath to stifle the forming tears. A dark head popped up from the kotatsu with the sound, and she jumped back. Fillion looked her way, eyes half-shut with sleep.

  “You slept on the couch?”

  He covered a yawn and stood. “Yeah, in case you needed me or tried to leave.”

  The rainbow pieces and blue unicorn eyes stared at her with accusation. “I’m sorry. God, I’m such a spaz lately.” She pressed a hand to her mouth and held her breath to stop the tears. “I guess Dad is right. I do have a flair for the dramatic.”

  “That’s what he wants you to believe.”

  She turned away and continued her task, not in the mood to rehash events from her birthday dinner. Water container back in place, she pulled a mug from the cabinet and put it beneath the spout and pushed the button.

  Brewing.

  Confetti.

  Dark, liquid happiness streamed into her mug.

  The coffee maker chirped a song in celebration. She wrapped her hands around the mug and savored a sip. Fillion’s words still lingered in her cloudy thoughts and she sighed with annoyance. No point in avoiding the obvious.

  “Did I put the hole in the wall?” she asked.

  Her brother reluctantly met her eyes with a single, curt nod.

  “See? Dramatic. Lynden the dumb girl, famous for ‘making a scene’ and embarrassing the Nichols name.”

  “More like ‘Lynden the quiet girl who is finally finding her voice.’”

  “Yeah, the soul-eater is manifesting.”

  Fillion walked into the kitchen and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. “Good. Don’t go back to sleep.”

  “Aww, I’m so glad you’re proud of my tantrums.”

  “Proud? Not even close.” Fillion pushed the button on the coffee maker and leaned on the counter to face her. “I’m relieved.”

  She looked away from him and twisted the ring on her thumb. “I feel crazy.”

  “That’s also part of his plan.” Fillion sipped his freshly brewed coffee and continued. “Image. Perception. Those illusions are the two keys to power.”

  “You sound like Dad.”

  Fillion stiffened as his own inner demons sprang to life at her careless comment. God, she could be such a bitch sometimes. Lynden sighed with remorse. Too late to take it back. When the torment passed, he dropped his voice to an intimate hush.

  “You’re not crazy, Lyn,” he began. “It’s normal for people to have feelings. It’s abnormal to pretend they don’t exist.”

  “More New Eden wisdom, Mr. Astrophysics?”

  A hesitant, flicker of a smile. “Something like that.”

  “God, you always think you know everything.”

  “Because I do.” The hint of a smile curved into a goading grin. “It’s part of my charm.”

  Her face grimaced with disgust. Before she could declare how Fillion’s male pride was gross, Mack trudged into the kitchen, eyes squinting with sleep, his hand running through his wild, messed up hair. He waltzed up to Fillion, patted her brother’s ass with a finishing squeeze while kissing his cheek, whispering, “Good morning, lover,” and reached for a mug over her brother’s shoulder. “A little luck o’ the Irish for you this morning.” He looked at Lynden and said with a comical nod, “St. Paddy’s Day.”

  “Not the same as getting lucky,” Fillion replied with humored aloofness. “Plus, you’re Scottish.”

  “Well, mate,” Mack slurred in a half-drunk, half-sleepy haze. “It’s the most action you’ve seen in a millennium, so I’d say it is, Irish boy.” Fillion flipped him off and Mack laughed. Looking at the mug in his hand, he said, “Tell me it’s Saturday. I don’t want to adult today.”

  “It’s Saturday,” Fillion answered flatly.

  Mack paused and blinked. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Hot damn.” Mack put the mug back into the cabinet. “I’m going back to bed. Hell to the no with adulting.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Fillion. “Want to spoon? You can hold me if you’re in the dominating mood.”

  “I’m busy, mate.”

  Mack peered at Lynden then back to Fillion. “Heart-breaker,” he mumbled. “Always choosing to dominate everyone else over your never-really-happened husband.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Hellz yeah.” Mack made a kissy face at her brother and then wandered out of the kitchen, tugging on a strand of Lynden’s hair before exiting.

  Fillion tried to hide a laugh by sipping on his coffee. Her brother was definitely happy. School had been good for him, she concluded. In this brief period of his life, he had a purpose outside of their family—even if MIT was Hanley’s idea. But, to Lynden, it seemed like an accomplishment all Fillion’s own, a way to escape the shadows in his life. Her gaze touched the oak tree on his forearm then slid to the linden leaves circling her wrist.

  Be free.

  She wanted to know the kind of happiness Fillion had found. Desperately.

  Be fearless.

  “I think I’m going to look into opening a non-profit.”

  Fillion’s gaze target-locked onto hers. “I’ll help financially and set up whatever connections you need, underground and street level.”

  “Do you think Mack would help me run the business end of things until I’m comfortable flying solo?”

  Her brother lifted his eyebrow. “You want his advice?”

  “I told you,” Lynden said, rolling her eyes. “Here’s the official sign that I’m crazy.”

  “Me too, then.” Fillion replied, raising his mug in a toast. With a wink he added, “Twinsies.”

  The sun broke through the clouds in Lynden’s hea
rt, driving away the shadows, and she allowed a genuine grin to form for the first time in weeks. Before wandering back to her room, she playfully threw out, “Kiss me, I’m Irish.” Fillion smiled and kissed her cheek as she passed by. She’d need all the luck she could get.

  Friday, March 30, 2057

  The cherry trees at Jefferson Park in the Beacon Hill neighborhood branched up toward the blue sky in a profusion of pink blossoms. Lynden picnicked beneath a tree that overlooked the Seattle skyline, happy for the solitude and afternoon sun-soaked weather. Petals floated in the breeze, falling across her lap and dotting the grass around her blanket.

  Hanami season had begun in Japan. Lynden honored the ancient tradition by appreciating the sakura trees gifted to Seattle by Japan over forty-five years ago in a gesture of century-long friendship. Most Seattleites preferred the cherry blossoms at the University of Washington. Jefferson Park, however, was her favorite. Not only was it quieter, it was breathtakingly beautiful, especially with Mount Rainier’s snow-capped peak behind the Seattle cityscape.

  All around Lynden, couples, friends, and mothers with their small children sprawled out on blankets beneath the blossoms. One tree over, a boy and girl kissed as if the world belonged only to them. The gentle breeze fingered their hair and Lynden watched, with longing, how the strands delicately danced in the air. Did she question his honesty? Worry that he might betray her one day? Or feel unworthy of his love, regardless of his actions?

  Did he make her feel beautiful when the rest of world told her she was ugly?

  Lynden tried to think of something else. Anything. But her heart ached for Coal. She saw reminders of him in everything, from the stars, to the food she made for dinner, to certain songs on her playlist. She heard his voice when afraid. Imagined his touch instead of the warm light through the wall of windows. A few times, she had felt the urge to skip, thinking of his smile whenever she was silly. God, that smile. It was dangerous. Even in her daydreams those dimples wiped her brain clean and she couldn’t think. The pain throbbing in her chest wouldn’t let her forget a damn thing, though.

  Breathe, she reminded herself.

  She had to keep moving forward and plan her life without him. It helped to lessen the heartache and fear. Investing in her own future and career had brought a form of freedom she had never experienced before. Like roll-around-in-it, throw-your-hands-in-the-air kind of happiness. She didn’t ask her dad’s permission. She didn’t seek her mom’s counsel. She plotted her own course—separate from her family, separate from empire-building for Fillion, separate from helping Coal blend in with the real world—and acted on each choice with emerging boldness.