“Of course,” Michelle said weakly. She took the vase from the table and trudged back to the door.
“Wouldn’t want to be rude,” Honeywell said.
“No, of course not,” Michelle replied. She followed the doctor through a long hallway of fluorescent lights and drab, hotel-style paintings of oceans and mountains. Through a double door and into a larger, louder space where evening sunlight cascaded and Michelle’s ride, a dark-haired girl, talked to a lady behind the reception desk, her back turned to Michelle.
Michelle looked down at the flowers and noticed a plain white card.
To my sister with love.
Then Dawn turned around.
—Chapter Ten—
1
Caught in a web, Michelle was low on energy and options. But she was free, at least in a relative sense, and she had her sister back. Given the bizarre hand she’d been dealt, she could either hold onto sorrow or her sister. She chose the latter, holding Dawn for hours—at the hospital, when the car stopped at a red light, and, finally, at home. Held her and cried.
“You were always the strong one,” Dawn said. “The one that kept me going.”
Michelle wiped her face. “I’m sorry. I just missed you so much. Missed us!”
“I missed us, too.”
“What happened? How did they—”
“I don’t know, Michelle. I was acting on instinct, using powers beyond my control.”
“What other choice did you have?”
“None, I guess. But I wish I’d died rather than going where I did. The things they did to me were…” Dawn shuddered, rapidly shaking her head. “If you don’t mind, I don’t think I’ll be ready to talk about those things for a long time.”
“Of course,” Michelle said. “Can I make you some coffee or…?”
A faint smile curved Dawn’s mouth. “The last time I was in this world, I was eleven.”
“Hey, that’s right. And you drove home, too. Don’t guess they had driving classes where you went.”
Dawn laughed. “You nut. Didn’t you notice how bad my driving was? We’re lucky we made it home alive.”
Michelle’s laughter joined her sister’s, and it felt good. She didn’t stop for a long time, wishing the moment would never end.
“Some hot chocolate would be nice,” Dawn said.
So they sat at the kitchen table, drinking cocoa and talking about childhood. Shared stories about Mom and Dad, and they talked a lot about Grammie and Pa. Sweet memories of camping trips and church functions and childhood pranks.
Then the conversation took a dark turn.
“Who was Rory Ellison?” Dawn asked. “Was he a demon?”
“No,” Michelle said glumly. “He was just a man.”
“But how did he—”
“Can’t we stay inside happy a little longer?” Michelle asked. “You just got here. Can’t we—”
“Wait,” Dawn said. “There’s an easier way to do this.”
“Are we ready?” Michelle asked.
“We’re about to find out.”
Dawn took Michelle’s hand, her expression going blank.
The kitchen grew cold, the air electrified. And Michelle, currents coursing through her body, watched tragic images flash before her eyes. A roller-coaster of emotions flooded her psyche, each brutal memory punctuated with a mercifully brief gut-punch.
Then…
The room fades, and she is a spectator in the center of a carousel. A hideous cyclorama. Images swirl…and swirl. Voices echo. Some warm, reassuring. But most are cold, haunting.
Her mind freezes on the image of Lacy Hieronymus’ face. Remembering what she looks like, not much older than Michelle is now. Beautiful and young. So much life left. And then her head rolls, revealing the bloody, fatal wound…
And Michelle wants to scream, but she can’t. She can’t even talk. She can’t…
The kitchen came back into focus, and Michelle did scream, letting go of Dawn’s hand.
Dawn’s eyes focused, a tear spilling down her cheek. “You’ve been through a lot,” she said.
And, slowly, Michelle felt better. Her breathing evened, tremors ebbing.
“That hurt, didn’t it?” Dawn asked.
“Yeah. It never hurt like that when we were kids, but that definitely—”
“How do you feel now?”
“Better.” Michelle took a deep breath then smiled. “Much better.” She got out of her chair, walked around, actually felt lighter.
“Good,” Dawn said. “I took part of the pain.”
“Glad to have you back, sister,” Michelle said, playing with her bracelet.
Noticing the adornment on her sister’s wrist, Dawn twitched.
“What’s wrong?” Michelle asked.
“Where did you get that?”
“The bracelet? You gave it to me.”
A pained expression swept Dawn’s features.
“Don’t you remember?” Michelle asked. “No, I guess you wouldn’t—you said you weren’t really you at the time.”
“Oh,” Dawn said, relatively composed but clearly not at ease. “It’s not really my taste.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Nothing,” Dawn whispered. She blinked a few times and smiled weakly. “Nothing at all.”
Michelle threw her arms around her sister. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yeah, sis, I’m sure.” Dawn slowly returned the embrace.
Although her sister’s tone was hardly convincing, Michelle didn’t want to push. Grateful to have her back, she knew Dawn had been through bad shit of her own. Now they had a chance to rebuild.
No matter what, Michelle told herself, she wasn’t alone anymore.
2
The next morning, Michelle woke to the scent of coffee, eggs, and bacon, transporting her mind to simpler times.
She entered the kitchen, breathing deeply. “Something smells good.”
Scrambling eggs in a pan, Dawn shot her a grin. “Watched Mom and Dad make coffee so many times that it came easy. Had to take a trip to the store this morning to get the other stuff; just about everything in the fridge was expired.”
“Haven’t been eating much since Mom died. I’ve lost so much weight that I hardly recognize myself in the mirror.”
Dawn transferred the eggs from the pan to a dish then snatched a Post-it note from the refrigerator. Extending the note to Michelle, she said, “I forgot to give this to you last night.”
“What is it?”
“A phone number for you to call. About your job, I think. They gave it to me at the hospital.”
“I’ll call after breakfast.”
“Go ahead and get it out of the way now, sis. I don’t want anything hanging over our heads. I’ve got a big day planned for us.”
Michelle sighed, grabbed the cordless from its base, and punched in the number.
A chipper girl answered. Michelle introduced herself.
“Yes,” the voice said, “I’ve been waiting for your call. We need you to return to work in three weeks, which puts us at the beginning of week two in the next training class. That way you don’t have to sit through the same material twice.”
“Thanks,” Michelle said.
“Do you have a pen and paper?”
Michelle wrote down the information, thanked the girl again, and hung up.
“Well?” Dawn asked, setting two plates on the table.
“Don’t have to go in for three weeks,” Michelle said, smiling.
“That’s great news. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”
“Breakfast first,” Michelle said. “I’m starving.”
3
After eating, Dawn talked Michelle into a trip to the mall. Michelle resisted at first, but gave in when her sister made a compelling argument: “I need clothes.”
To her surprise, the mall wasn’t the debacle she expected or remembered. Shot through a different filter—young and old couples holding hands, children hav
ing fun, new parents pushing baby strollers—it was almost nice. She glided carefree from store to store, enjoyed the fine mist from the water fountain, centerpiece of the mall, and even threw a few coins in it.
“What did you wish for?” Dawn asked.
“It won’t come true if I tell you,” she replied. But she knew her eyes said it all—that she had what she wanted already, and only wished it could last longer this time.
Doing her best to ignore hectoring techno beats that hardly qualified as music, Michelle followed her sister through a series of trendy, teen-friendly clothing stores, frequently glad-handing plastic to smiling sales clerks.
“You should probably get some new things, too,” Dawn said.
Michelle chuckled and said, “Not here. This place isn’t really my style.”
“Sorry, sis, but what exactly is your style?”
She thought about it for a few seconds. Surprisingly unhurt by the question, she couldn’t come up with an answer.
“You sort of ride the fence, don’t you?” Dawn said.
Michelle wanted to disagree but couldn’t. Remembering what Sabrina had said about “fence-jockeys,” she faced a mirror and scowled at her drab, olive-colored shirt and faded black jeans.
“You used to love colors when we were little,” Dawn said. “I looked through your closet at home, to see if there was anything I could wear, but—”
“I’m too fat for you to wear my things,” Michelle said.
“You know that isn’t the problem,” Dawn replied. “Come on. I’ll help you.”
They spent the rest of the day shopping for Michelle. She didn’t make it easy, of course, dismissing most of Dawn’s suggestions at first glance. By the end of the day, however, she came away with more than a thousand dollars worth of things she never would have worn. Designer jeans, floral blouses, sparkly costume jewelry. Dawn never pushed too hard. Whenever Michelle showed the mildest interest, Dawn always said it looked wonderful. If Michelle hated something, Dawn hated it, too, even if she’d liked it moments earlier.
“You’re an individual,” Dawn said. “You can’t let what you wear choose you.”
It made a certain kind of sense. By trying too hard not to conform, perhaps she had become something worse. A nothing. A shade. Or maybe she hadn’t made herself those things at all, instead becoming an easy target for ridicule.
After a long day of shopping, Michelle said, “I’m hungry.”
“Let’s swing by the food court, unless you’re looking for a big meal.”
“Nah, food court’s fine.” She couldn’t believe those words slipped from her mouth. It had been over two years since she’d even tasted fast food, but she was really enjoying herself and didn’t want to be difficult.
That all changed when they reached the open-air pit of in-your-face eateries. Dawn dragged her toward a chicken joint. “Wow, I love this place. It’s been so long since—”
“No!” Michelle shouted, tugging back on her sister’s hand.
“What’s wrong?”
“They’re Christian fanatics who donate to anti-gay causes. I can’t eat there.”
Dawn looked saddened, but she didn’t fight back. They settled on deli sandwiches and sat down. After eating in silence for a few minutes, Dawn said, “So you’re not a Christian anymore?”
“No,” Michelle said plainly. “How can I be? For that matter, how can you believe in God?”
“What do you mean?”
Michelle put her sandwich down and leaned back. “Wouldn’t you say we have evidence that disproves the existence of a benevolent deity?”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
“You mean there’s another?”
“Of course. We have evidence of something beyond us. We know the world is magic, and nothing is ever exactly as it seems. But I don’t think we’ve seen everything, sis. I think there’s a lot beyond what we’ve experienced.”
Michelle flashed on Grammie and Pa walking through a doorway. With burgeoning humility, she shared the story with Dawn.
“Exactly,” Dawn said.
“But they could have been moving to a different dominion, or maybe they fizzled from existence altogether, or—”
“We know more than most,” Dawn interrupted, “but we don’t know everything, and I think that’s good.”
“But I can’t get behind groups that espouse hatred and intolerance.”
“No one’s asking you to. I just think it’s important to believe in something beyond this world. Something nice and good and simple. If we get bogged down by vilifying every organization, aren’t we creating our own corruptible causes? By all means, you don’t have to jump on bandwagons and embrace things you know are wrong.”
“It’s hard to drink the milk and deny the cow,” Michelle said.
Dawn laughed. “You’ve always marched to your own drum, Michelle. And I love that about you, I really do. But you’ve got to let go sometimes. You’re so…tense.”
Michelle took a bite of her sandwich, glancing around at all the families. Some happy, some sad, but all joined by a common thread. For better or worse, they had each other.
Never let your filters become blinders…
Those words, advice she had given Laura, echoed true in her mind. Turning back to her sister, she tried to smile. “You’re right,” she said.
“Good. Now let’s get dessert.”
4
The next morning, Dawn was gone when Michelle woke up. Filled with worry, she paced around the house. “Dawn,” she called desperately, like she was looking for a lost pet.
Ten minutes of frantic searching ended when the door came open. Dawn walked into the house carrying a white box.
“Where were you?” Michelle asked angrily.
“I’m sorry,” Dawn said. “I meant to be back before you got up. I didn’t mean to cause alarm. I promise.”
Dawn put the box on the kitchen table and it started to rustle, capturing Michelle’s attention. Red letters on the side of the box read, Pet Waggin’. Michelle approached the box.
“It’s for you,” Dawn said.
A hungry meow erupted from the box as Michelle opened it. She stared down at the most beautiful kitten she’d ever seen—white fur, grey cow spots, a black nose. It looked back at her with sad eyes and meowed again.
“Actually, she’s for you is the more appropriate thing to say,” Dawn corrected.
The kitten put its front paws on the edge of the box, curious eyes darting around the room. Michelle picked her up, held her close. The kitten purred. Michelle speechlessly looked at her sister, who was opening the refrigerator door and smiling.
“You ready for breakfast?” Dawn asked.
“But you hate cats,” Michelle said.
Putting a carton of eggs and a gallon of milk on the counter, Dawn said, “I remembered how much you loved them. Never seemed right, you not having a pet. Mom and Dad should have done something about that. Hell, I’m surprised you never did.”
“Thank you.”
“What are you going to name her?”
Michelle stared at the kitten, trying to think of the right name. The kitten reached one gentle paw upward and touched her face. A bonding moment, Michelle thought. She put her nose to the feline’s and kissed the air between them. The kitten responded by licking her cheek.
“Sabrina,” Michelle said. “Your name is Sabrina.” Then she put Sabrina down, eyes never leaving her, and let the kitten inspect her new home.
“That’s a nice name,” Dawn said, turning the heat up on the stove. “Does it have any significance?”
“Did you get her anything to eat?”
“Yeah, lady at the Humane Society gave me a bag of Science Diet. It’s out in the car.”
Michelle leaned down to Sabrina and asked, “Are you hungry?”
The cat put her front paws on Michelle’s legs, stretching upward, and meowed again. Michelle, without answering Dawn’s question, ran to the car.
5
Time went by quickly.
Then, one night, Dawn asked, “Is there anyone special in your life?”
“What do you mean?” Michelle asked, sitting on the couch with her purring kitten curled in her lap.
“You know—a crush, a flame, anything?”
Michelle started to talk about her kitten’s namesake but stopped. Too soon, too painful, and she hadn’t really known the girl well. She had spent years learning Laura, and, reaching deep, she found that feelings still stirred. So she spent more than an hour talking about Laura, and the more she talked, the stronger her affection grew.
After Michelle was done, gazing back at the television, Dawn said, “Sounds like you’ve got it bad.”
“I guess.”
“Do you think she could come down and spend the weekend with us? I’d like to meet her.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Michelle’s face became flushed. “We don’t really talk anymore and—”
“Don’t you think you should talk? It’s clear she means a lot to you.”
“Well, yeah, I do, but…it’s complicated.”
“So simplify things. Tell her you’re sorry and you miss her. Chances are she misses you, too. Don’t put any pressure on her. Just hang out and—”
“Dawn?”
“Yeah, what?”
“Where did you learn everything?” A hint of suspicion, though unintended, was evident in Michelle’s tone.
“Easy,” Dawn replied quickly. She pointed at Michelle’s head. “I learned it all from you, silly.”
“That’s hard for me to fathom.”
Dawn chuckled and said, “Well, it’s not like I didn’t have to rearrange the information a little, but it’s all up there in your noggin, whether you realize it or not.”
Beyond Anon Page 10