After eating a bowl of Cheerios with some sliced strawberries, I brush my teeth and apply my usual coat of mascara, but decide today I will add a little bit of powdered bronzer to my cheeks. I figure while I have the tan I might as well play it up. But if I am being completely honest, I’m putting a little more effort into my appearance hoping Liam might notice. Since it’s raining, I figure my little white sneakers will be best. No point in having wet feet from sandals all day. I grab my umbrella, bag, and keys, then head for the door. Like always, Abigail escorts me.
I stop in the garage to examine my big rusty gal. To my amazement she doesn’t even have a scratch. Well, not any new ones anyway. I look her over – twice – and don’t see anything out of the ordinary. The same spot of rust on my driver’s side door at the corner by the hinge is still intact. The back tires still have missing hubcaps, and the hood still doesn’t close shut all the way – although it has never been a problem. Wow did I get lucky, I think.
As I’m driving, I can’t help but feel slightly panicky as I drive past the very spot I had my little accident. I see my tire tracks that had veered off into the grass and where I’d made my sudden stop in the ditch. I notice a tree not far from where I had dramatically stopped and look away quickly when I realize just how close I had been to hitting that tree. Another two feet and I wouldn’t have been so lucky.
Who was that and were they trying to make me have an accident?
“They can’t cause physical harm to you,” Sera answers, now appearing in the front passenger seat.
I jump. I will never get used to her appearing out of nowhere.
“I know that. But they can still distract me enough so that I cause harm to myself!” I start to hyperventilate just a little. She doesn’t respond. I’m not wrong. “Who was that last night?” I ask in a whisper.
“I’m not entirely sure. I tried to speak to him after what he did to you – to try and communicate – but every time that I came close, he’d simply wander off and I couldn’t follow. I didn’t get a good feel for him, but I know he’s not at peace.”
I think about that for a minute. “Did he… want me to be harmed?”
“No, I just think that he was roaming. Not really sure himself as to what he was doing.” She seems absolute about that.
“So, he’s not… Home… with you?”
Home is what Sera calls Heaven; where we go when our life is over. Our life in human body anyway.
“No, he seems to be stuck here. He hasn’t come Home. We try to convince lost souls to come Home when they’re wandering around aimlessly like that. Sometimes outside help is needed, though.”
This makes me uneasy. In my experience – or from what Sera has explained – those still here wandering around can be menacing. Not always of course, but it is still a possibility. My stomach churns at the thought.
“When you say outside help…?”
Sera looks me square in the eye. “I mean help from people like you, Breckin.”
“NO WAY!”
She rolls her eyes. “No worries now. Stop freaking out about it. We don’t even know what’s going on or if there is anything going on. Forget about it.”
I plan on doing just that. I will forget all about it.
I make it to school unscathed and am glad that my class line up will be effortless today. I jog from the wet parking lot – not bothering to use my umbrella – into the crowded school just in time for the first bell to ring. I rush through the halls, scanning the crowd for Liam, but to my disappointment I don’t see him anywhere. I don’t bother to stop at my hindered locker. I don’t have much time before the second and final bell will sound, starting first period. I know that if I absolutely have to, Mrs. Hathaway won’t have a problem with me skipping into the empty hall to fight with the stupid thing. I make it through her door with seconds to spare.
“Good morning, Mrs. Hathaway,” I say, catching my breath.
She looks over her shoulder at me, reading glasses resting at the end of her nose as she was writing out assignments on the white dry-erase board at the front of the class.
“Lovely weather we’re having today, isn’t it?” she says mockingly as she goes back to writing.
“Sure is.” I smile. I usually don’t mind the rain. It’s snow and wind that I have always had a problem with.
Without another word from either of us, I go to my unfinished project from the day before. I am almost done with the cork board, just a few last touch ups is all it needs. I work silently, slipping my earbuds into my ears for my iPod, and when I’m finished, Mrs. Hathaway hands me her student log book to enter all the names of her students into the computer that she’ll have in attendance this year. The rest of the time spent in my first period passes quickly. I’m surprised when the bell rings releasing me to third period.
Communications goes just as fast. Mrs. Welling is down to earth and seems to really enjoy teaching. She makes the third hour requirement appear easy and effortless. She also explains that the seniors are always her babies, and that she loves to go above and beyond to make sure we enjoy our last year of high school. We don’t even have text books for the class. And I don’t see what could be so hard about writing speeches and participating in group exercises. I admit to myself that when it comes to making the speech in front of the class though… that could be a totally different story. I hate being the center of attention. Group activities are okay, but flying solo, not so much.
Claire and I walk to lunch and meet up with Morgan and Brooks. They’re already in the cafeteria holding us a spot at one of the round white tables lined throughout the cafe. I’m not as ravenous today, being I ate breakfast – and also because I can’t get the butterflies to stop flying around in my stomach. I nibble on some orange slices as I scan the large crowd for him. This is getting ridiculous.
“…earth to Breckin!” Brooks says as she puts her face in front of my ambling eyes.
I blink and shake my head. “What?”
“Where are you today? Have you heard a word any of us has said?”
I quickly focus and recall the fuzzy conversation that I was only sort of listening to. “Homecoming. We still need a theme.” I say, surprising myself that I have even caught that much.
Brooks relaxes back into her seat and seems to believe that I was paying attention.
“We have to do something amazing, something no one has ever done before. This is senior year after all!”
Morgan giggles and cheerfully suggests, “What about game boards? Each class could base their floats and decorations on their favorite game.”
Brooks narrows her brown eyes almost in a way to make Morgan look insignificant somehow and lets out a huff. “Are you serious? That’s so childish. Besides, we did that already two years ago,” she hisses.
Morgan frowns and slumps into her chair. I shoot Brooks a disapproving look although she pretends not to notice. She can be so callous sometimes. I suddenly remember why Brooks and I aren’t as close as we once were. She and I had once been inseparable, but once her attitude took a biting turn for the worse, we stopped talking. Neither of us had talked about it and our friendship had suffered greatly.
“We still have time to choose. Let’s all put our heads together and I’m sure we’ll come up with something perfect.” Claire says, trying to defuse the situation.
I roll my eyes and look away.
The rest of the lunch passes by with the same blasé conversation. I can’t help but to think about something – or someone – else. I try really hard to concentrate on my friends, I do, but ever since yesterday, Liam is all I can think about.
The remainder of the day carries out the same way the morning had. My earlier premonition seems to be panning out as all of my classes have been effortless. When the final bell rings releasing us from the day, I’m glad as I usually am to be heading to swim practice.
Whenever I’m in the pool, I’m able to think clearly. I can be by myself in that single lane and just listen to the movement
of the water around me. It lulls my chaotic brain and soothes away any anxiety I might be feeling. The sound of my arms lapping on the surface and the feel of my feet making a swirl of bubbles as they kick behind me is something I find comforting. Swimming is almost second nature to me. I’ve been in the water since I was three, after begging Elly to enter me into summer lessons at the local pool.
Coach Dawson has us run our regular drills and she’s pushing a little harder today. Getting us ready for the first meet is suddenly a panicked thought in her mind. She paces the length of the pool with her eyebrows pinched together along with her silver whistle pinched between her lips. Camille Dawson is absolutely the nicest and most upbeat person I’ve ever known, so to see her looking so serious is almost comical. She is extremely petite, shorter than me by a few inches. Chad, her son, looks a lot like her with the short dark hair and blue eyes. She often has get-togethers at her house, having the team over to socialize. It’s especially important for her to do when we welcome new girls to the team and it’s essential for her to have us all get along. Most of us do. However, it is high school after all, and girls will be girls…
I’m part of the four-hundred meter relay team, swimming the butterfly link, and I also swim the two-hundred meter freestyle. I’m doing well in the relay, however I feel I’m a little lacking when it comes to my time in my individual race. I ask Coach Dawson if it would be all right if I stay after and practice a while longer. The dive team is still in the other pool, so I won’t be alone. She agrees and kindly asks if I’d like her to stay with me, but I tell her no. I want to be left alone to think.
As I spring off the block to an imaginary starting buzzer, I feel the tension of the past two days peeling away as my body soars through the air for just a short burst of time before I tuck my head and submerge into the water. I let my body move beneath the surface for a short time, dolphin kicking and leaving my arms straight out in front of me feeling the smoothness of the tepid water rush past me with familiarity and ease. My body surfaces and I take a breath as I begin swimming in a well-known rhythm, letting my arms one by one slap onto the surface of the water, propelling me faster as my feet kick to an unheard drumbeat. I listen to the breath coming in and out of my lungs, turning my head to the surface in pace with my strokes, and then get lost in thought as I often do at this point.
My mind starts on what seems to be a hard subject for me lately. Ben.
First: I’m in a relationship with Ben and I’ve been dating him for almost two years now. It seems comfortable. I do love him after all – or do I? I know I don’t love him in that heart flying, stomach dropping, have to be around him every second, can’t wait to see him, kind of way, but I think this is kind of normal being I’ve never felt that way about anyone. And isn’t it normal to settle into a pattern of comfort? Don’t those frantic lovey-dovey feelings fade after a while? I do find it a bit disconcerting that I’ve never felt that way at all, though.
Okay, so I am definitely not in love with Ben. No. I know I’m not. Had I ever been? Although it has never seemed particularly uncomfortable with Ben, I think it strange though now that I haven’t ever had the feeling my life might end if I don’t see him every day. I mean, isn’t that the way young love goes? All consuming and all that? In the back of my head I always knew that Ben and I wouldn’t be together in the long run. High school love – lust, like, whatever it is – isn’t usually one that makes it much further than just that – high school. Rarely have I ever heard of a relationship making it past graduation. Even if it does, it usually ends within the first year of college. Kudos to those who happily muddle through.
And whenever I think of Ben, I don’t get the warm smile across my face like I used to. Remembering the good memories is getting harder, too. Sure, there are plenty of them, and he did make me happy once. But I regularly overshadow those with memories of our most recent trivial fight or the most recent thing he’s done to annoy me – which I swear is on purpose. It seems lately that his goal in life is to aggravate and embarrass me. That’s definitely not love. At least not to me.
I’m not counting down the minutes until I’ll see him again, but I never really did. His embraces aren’t something I desire and I used to look forward to his kisses, however, now I will carefully adjust my face at just the moment his lips are about to find mine so that he’ll end up kissing my cheek instead. I actually hadn’t noticed that I was doing this until he’d pointed it out to me one day.
“Why do you do that?” Ben had asked, upset.
“Do what?” I responded in real surprise.
“Every time I try to kiss you, you turn your head away. It’s like you don’t want to kiss me anymore.”
I thought about this new revelation before I spoke. “I didn’t realize I was doing that. Sorry.” I had answered him very dryly. I wasn't sorry, really.
But up until that point, I really hadn’t realized that I was shying away from him. However when pointed out to me so matter-of-factly, I couldn’t ignore it. Then I wondered to myself how long had I been doing that? More importantly, why?
Sure, Ben will always have a place in my heart and I will always… love… no, not love – like... him. But the way I love/like him doesn’t hold a candle to the way I know I am capable of loving. The way I know that I could love someone, the way I feel deep down in every ounce of my being that I will love someone.
So, if I am so unhappy why am I still with Ben? I can’t come up with a straight answer.
Second: in the past twenty-four hours my life seems to have taken a subconscious and unexpected turn in another direction entirely. Toward someone else. Someone, who I in one instantaneous moment knew I had to know. Someone who intoxicates me with a single look. Someone so impossibly gorgeous and lovely and sweet and courteous and kind he takes my breath away.
Liam is, for some reason, all that I can think about. And I don’t know why, nor do I understand it. I don’t even know if he knows I’m alive other than for the few awkward meetings we’d had the day before. I’m not sure if he really has taken any notice to me other than the fact that he’s clearly someone who is polite and simply helped a girl out. Twice. I know the way I had portrayed him looking at me is just my imagination gone wild and probably some very wishful thinking. The look in his beautiful eyes had to have been a fabrication of my out of control thoughts, because let’s face it, I’m good at daydreams. There is no way Liam could find me interesting in any way, so I have to let the memory of his aquatic eyes appraising me – or so I want to believe – slip away from my mind all together.
But I can see it now so effortlessly as I allow my overthinking turn to daydreaming. Liam’s hand in mine, fingers interlocked. He, stroking a lock of hair from my face as naturally as he had the day before, but with real meaning behind it this time. I imagine his lean arms wrapping around my waist, lifting my face to his so that he can press his soft, full lips to mine. So sweet, so tender, so real is the illusion I have created that I start to get butterflies in my stomach again.
I hadn’t realized it, but I am now making my way back to the starting block on my sixth lap of the pool. I slow and reach for the ceramic tiled wall with my hands. I’m really not timing myself at this point, so no sense in pushing all the way through now. So much for extra practice. I surface and take a second to come back to the present. After removing my goggles and cap, I toss them up to the ground. I resolve that I’m too preoccupied to give extra training any kind of real effort.
Sera is sitting cross legged on the ground, elbows on her knees and her chin resting in her hands. She’s directly where my gear lands and she has a peaceful look about her face. I pull myself up to sit next to her, pulling my knees to my chest and I wring my dripping hair out with pruney hands.
“You seem so at peace when you swim.” Sera notes.
I smile and shrug my shoulders. Probably because I am, I think to answer her. There isn’t anyone in close hearing distance, but better to be careful.
“I couldn’t
help but to hear what you were thinking. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear, it’s just I’m so attuned to you.” She says each word a little faster. When she speaks this way, it makes her high-pitched voice a little hard to take. My ears actually ache to the sound.
I have to admit though, that it’s nice to be able to communicate with Sera without speaking out loud. I’m not able to speak to other spirits this way and most of the ones I see are fuzzy apparitions who remain muted anyway. Or maybe it’s I just simply choose not to hear them at all when they try to communicate. Unless of course I’m trying to sleep – then they come through loud and clear. Sera had once explained to me that it’s because of our bond, although I sense it contains a much deeper meaning. She can only communicate with me in this way, too; Sera is unable to hear other people’s thoughts. She once mentioned that when we go Home however, we rarely use our voices aloud. It’s normal to converse with your thoughts. Whatever the reason, I just think it makes our bond that much more special.
That’s fine. It’s not like you don’t already know my feelings on the situation anyway, I think as I sigh, feeling completely defeated.
“You know the real reason you’re still with Ben is because you don’t want to hurt his feelings. You haven’t really wanted to be in a relationship with him for some time now. And that’s okay, really. But you’ve got to let go of this guilt that you let consume you when you’re trying to figure out your own happiness. It’s hardly fair to yourself to put other people’s feelings in front of your own sometimes. I understand that that’s just the type of person you are - and let us be honest, the world would be a much better place if people weren’t so selfish - but it’s okay to be selfish once and awhile.”
Hollow Sight Page 6