by S. B. Niccum
“So … what will you do after the military; or are you making the military your career?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I’m not going to be a career soldier like my grandfather, but I still want to serve.”
“Peace Corps, policeman, fire fighter?” I suggested.
“Politician,” he replied with a teasing smile, but I could tell he was dead serious.
I nodded and stuck out my lip. “I can see it.”
“My other grandfather is a Senator, but he’s not running for re-election this year. I think he’s finally going to retire. He and my father never got along; they butted heads on everything. When my dad didn’t follow in his political footsteps, it created a huge rift. But I want to give it a go.”
We had been sitting on the bow of the ship, with our legs dangling over the edge while the water splashed up on them. He still held my hand, and presently, he picked it up and brought it up to his lips for a kiss; but suddenly, I felt my body being shaken with force by someone back in reality. I stretched out one hand to him as I floated away, until he faded completely and I was aware of my real surroundings once again.
Bent over me was Dorian, who looked pale, and shivered. My head ached around my temples, a common side effect of these dreams.
“What’s wrong, Dorian?”
Half relieved and half faint, he dropped onto his bed, and laid his head on his pillow. Instinctively, I touched his forehead and noticed that it was hot and clammy. I looked around the room, hoping to find a clue as to what to do, but found none. I told him to stay put while I got Charlotte and he nodded as he closed his eyes.
He had the flu. Apparently half the school had it too, and the halls looked eerily empty as I walked them that day. I was glad for it, in a way. My head hurt so bad that I welcomed the silence. So I stayed at my locker for lunch, and pulled out Alex’s book with the intention of giving it back when I saw him. But, as soon as I was comfortably sitting on the floor, I felt my eyes getting heavy, and slumber creeping in.
Alex was glad that there was almost no one around today. “I’ll just have a quiet lunch by my locker today,” he thought ruefully, knowing full well who he would find there. However, he found his reason asleep on the floor with her head on her bag, a sandwich in one hand and his book in the other.
He couldn’t help suppress a smile; she looked spent … and beautiful. So beautiful in fact, that she looked like a work of art, with her silky dark hair spilling over her shoulders, covering part of her smooth olive skin. Her thick eyelashes framed her closed lids and her rosy lips were slightly parted. He stared at those lips for a moment, then sat down next to her with frustration. He pulled out his own lunch and started breaking chunks out of it. Out of his bag, he retrieved Great Expectations, but settled on looking at the cover and thinking, instead of reading.
Stealing another glance in her direction he struggled with his own feelings. She had wedged herself quite deeply into his heart, and he didn’t even know how. From the start he was attracted to her and felt for her what he had never felt for Genie. Then, the dreams … they didn’t help him at all. How could he remain aloof when he had those dreams?
Chapter 6
“Hmm … ” Celeste floated above the two with arms crossed and a scowl on her face.
“Is she yours?” Estelle asked as she hurriedly floated down the hall, her tunic flowing and swirling behind her with light.
“Yes, she’s mine. How about the boy? Is he yours?” Celeste could not hide her contempt as she placed her fists on her waist.
“He is. Alex is my great-grandson,” Estelle said with obvious pride. But Celeste let out a contemptuous huff and crossed her arms again.
“Are you related to her?” Estelle asked cheerily, not catching Celeste’s obvious hints.
“She’s my grand-daughter, Tess.”
“Tess … yes … ” Estelle got a faraway look and nodded, then her face brightened and her eyes opened wide. “Is your name Celeste?”
“Yes,” Celeste said distrustfully. “Why?”
Estelle almost hugged her, but settled to jumping and clapping her hands instead. “Oh goodness! You have no idea how long I’ve been looking for you! And to think you were right here all along! Celeste, as I live—well not live per say … ” Upon Celeste’s annoyed look Estelle composed herself and stretched out her hand. “Hi, my name is Estelle, and I’ve been looking for you! I was asked to give you a message.” She bit her lip and looked expectantly at Celeste.
“Sent by who and what message?”
“By them.” Estelle dropped the hand and pointed to Tess who slept and Alex who sat pondering.
“By them?”
“Yes! Before they were born and before I died! You see, I had the ability to see spirits while I was alive. I saw them on a few occasions, but the last time they came to me, they asked me to look for Celeste, you, and tell you that they wanted to be together,” Estelle said triumphantly and felt like a burden had just been lifted off her shoulders. But Celeste looked unconvinced and eyed her suspiciously.
“You could see spirits?”
“Yes, while I was alive.”
“And they … ” she pointed specifically to the two mortals in front of her, “came to you before you died, just to tell you that they wanted to be together?”
Estelle nodded vigorously.
“O—kay.” Celeste thought about all the implications that this news conveyed. She knew that there were unborn spirits, but she had never encountered one. The reason for this might simply be because they inhabited another realm of existence. This might have seemed farfetched to her at one time, but not anymore. Since she’d died, she had learned a few things. First, everyone has gifts and some were more pronounced than others. Didn’t her own son see her after she passed? And Tess herself, didn’t she hear her—before … when she used to speak to her? And second, there were different realms of existence; she inhabited one right now. Something she never knew existed until she passed. So why not another realm, inhabited by those who have not been born yet! Heavens! She might have a slew of people in that realm that she knows, or used to know. … So why couldn’t she remember it?
“I know it sounds a bit crazy, but it’s true! I swear it! They came to me the very night that he was born. They were in a hurry and were very distressed at the thought that they might soon forget everything.”
“Forget everything? Is that why I can’t remember?” Celeste asked now with interest.
“I’ve been told that we all had to cross a veil of sorts before we’re born that erases all memories of our existence prior to mortal life.”
“You don’t say? Well, I always thought that there must be another piece to the puzzle. I guess I need to sign up for the ‘Spiritual Progression’ class when I get back.”
“That’s precisely the class I took!” Estelle declared with satisfaction.
“So about these two…what are we to do?” Celeste asked, now warmed to the spirit next to her.
“I suppose we figure out a way of getting them together.”
“He is dating that spoiled girl … Eugenia!”
“And now she is dating someone too.” Estelle pointed out.
“Only because her feelings got hurt. He should break up with that Genie girl and ask Tess out.”
“It’s not that simple, he feels that his parents expect him and Genie to marry. Their parents are best friends … they’ve joked about this ‘arranged marriage’ since they were little.”
“Ahh, por favor!” Celeste threw her hands up in the air in frustration and paced the space right in front of Alex and Tess, looking like a blurry glow light.
“I know! I’ve tried to tell him. He’s coming around though. Look at him and tell me he doesn’t like her.”
Celeste stopped her pacing and narrowed her eyes, inspecting Alex closely. Then she straightened up and pursed her lips. “Well … if we are going to make this happen, we’ll have to put our minds together.”
“Agreed!
” Estelle extended her arm and Celeste took it with a grin. Like two fairies, the two matriarchs floated arm in arm down the hall, deep in conversation, leaving a shimmery trail of light behind them.
The jarring bell woke me up with a start, and as I straightened up I bumped into something—Alex. “Alex!” I squeaked rather breathlessly. “What—?” I looked around, disoriented. Was I awake or still dreaming? It occurred to me right then that this double life of mine was getting increasingly complicated.
Alex smiled sweetly and the dimples showed up again. “Good morning.”
I bit my lips and straightened my hair, then my uneaten sandwich fell from my lap, making a mess of ham, cheese and lettuce on the floor. Hastily I tried to clean up my mess and found Alex’s hand reaching over and helping me.
“Here, let me help you. You look a bit groggy still,” he smiled again.
Embarrassed, I let him help me and I watched as he cleaned up and threw the mess away. Then he came back to my side and offered me his own lunch. “No, thank you,” I insisted.
He pushed it forward. “Come on, you need to eat. You have practice after school and you’ll sink if you don’t have food in you. Besides, this is my second sandwich, I ate one already.”
His kindness touched me and my feelings for him bubbled up to the surface—dang! How am I supposed to stay mad at him? “OK, thank you, but won’t you be hungry?”
He shook his head. “I’m not that hungry today.” Then he looked away, looking lost in thought.
By now the hallway began to fill with students, and we got a few stares as they passed.
“Did you have a rough night last night?” Alex asked, turning his attention back to me.
I looked at him, but my look was more like a stare. How much like my dreams, he was! How real those dreams were! But of course they are not real, and disclosing the fact that I dream of him almost every night was out of the question. “Just a dream.” I sighed.
“A bad dream?”
“No, just a dream. I—have you ever had a dream so real that you felt like you were actually living it?”
One of his eyebrows rose high above the other and he peered into my own eyes with intensity. “I think so, why?” he asked mysteriously.
I shrugged. “Well, because when I dream those very intense dreams, I wake up more tired than when I fell asleep, that’s all.” By now the second bell had rung and the hallway was clearing of students who were now in their classrooms. I reached for my bag and started to get up, but as I did so, The Count of Monte Cristo book fell to the floor. “Oh, here, I meant to give this back to you.”
Alex was getting up too and looked down at the book. “Did you like it?”
“I loved it!”
He smiled a tight smile and took the book from my hands. Our fingers overlapped for a second, sending electric shocks up my arm. He noticed this, because he looked up at me with intensity again. He opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t. Instead he turned from me and stalked off without another word. He left in his wake, a trail of frustration that I myself, shared. To my infinite chagrin, I didn’t see him again. I worried that I had offended him somehow, but for the life of me, I didn’t know how.
A few weeks later, Dorian came up to me with a postcard. He sat on my bed looking eager, pushing the postcard under my line of vision. The picture on the postcard was of a beautiful painting done by Thomas Kinkade. It was an iron gate that was partially opened and all around it were luscious flowers and shrubs. I was mesmerized by this beautiful work of art; I looked up at Dorian, and turned the postcard over. It was an invitation for two to a Thomas Kindade art exposition in downtown Dallas, that weekend.
“You want to go?” I asked Dorian.
He smiled broadly and nodded. “Together,” he said.
“I might get lost though, and it will be late when it’s done. Do you mind if we get Wes to drive us?”
Dorian was clearly disappointed by this suggestion, but he didn’t refuse. “I want to go,” he reiterated stubbornly, which I took to mean “do what you have to do to get me there.”
The next day at school I put before Wes and his friends, this grand plan for a group date, where we went to an art exhibit and then out to dinner somewhere downtown. I knew this last part would be appealing to Wes and his buddies, and they readily agreed. Wes was also glad to see me take the initiative on my end, and let me know so with a smile. Far from making me feel good, that smile cut straight through my heart. I was using him.
I saw a strange look cross Brandy’s usual happy face and I knew then that she was annoyed with me. She was cold toward me for the rest of the day, and my entreaties had no effect on her.
On Friday night, seven of us crowded into Wes’ Suburban and made our way to the art exhibit. I tried to smooth things over with Brandy again, and she seemed more receptive, but I could tell that she still held a sliver of resentment there, and I couldn’t blame her. She was right in being angry, in fact; I wished that Wes would be angry too. But he wasn’t, he was filled with hope for the evening.
Once we got there, the group dislodged, leaving Dorian, Wes, and I, alone. Dorian took his time at each picture, and I did too, which only made Wes antsy. His constant need for action was stifled here. Soon his constant fidgeting and sulking got to me, and I started to get annoyed; so I pulled him aside and leveled with him. If he gave us a little bit of time alone, then we would join the rest of the group. Wes seemed relieved by this suggestion and was glad to move on. He spotted Brandy and her date ahead, and hurried to catch up with them. Once he was gone, my relief was almost audible, and I turned my attention back to Dorian and the pictures before me.
Dorian would get so close to some pictures that his nose would almost touch the canvas. Then he would take a few steps back and study it anew. I could tell that he saw things in those paintings that I didn’t. I could see that he was learning something and taking in a lot more than just a beautiful image.
“I know you can draw this, but do you think you could use colors too?” I asked him.
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then he shook his head, no.
“It says here that he is called ‘The Painter of Light’. I can see why. All of his pictures are drenched in sunlight, lamp-light or the glow of a fire.”
Dorian nodded, and then moved to the next picture. One particular painting across the aisle caught my eye, I crossed to see it and stood there looking intently at it for a while. There seemed to be something familiar about it, but I couldn’t quite tell what. It was a white gazebo with a lilac colored wisteria creeping up on it. The picture mesmerized me and I almost felt transported there. I felt like I was floating somewhere above it, looking down.
“What does it remind you of?” His voice startled me and sent my heart raising, pumping blood through my veins so fast that it flushed my face.
“I don’t know, but it looks familiar somehow.” I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing before turning.
When I turned, I found him to be much closer than I anticipated. I raised my gaze and looked into his eyes. There was pain in them. They looked hurt and there was a trace of anger in them as well. I looked at him questioningly, but he didn’t explain. He seemed to be caught in some internal struggle of his own.
“Where’s your boyfriend,” he asked curtly.
“He’s … I don’t know,” I said looking around, not so much looking for Wes, as making sure he wasn’t around. “I wanted to come here with Dorian, but … ”
He stared hard into my eyes, he seemed to be trying to find something there, but was not succeeding. Then he softened a little and all I could see was pain. He seemed to emanate pain from his person.
“Did you sleep better last night?”
“Yes,” I told him suspiciously.
“Good, glad to hear it.” We stared at each other for a few seconds without talking.
“I came here with my family,” he said, changing the subject. “ … My mom is an artist and loves Thomas Kinkade. Sh
e makes us come to all her favorite artist’s exhibits.”
“That’s nice. Dorian wanted to come and see it too, but I seem to have lost him,” I said looking around me fruitlessly. Then Alex moved in closer, if that was possible, giving me little room to move between him and the painting.
“Ah, there you are!” a woman exclaimed.
Both Alex and I jerked our heads up at the same time. I tucked my nervous hands behind my back, and as I did this, they brushed against Alex’s hands for a very distracting moment.
“Mom, this is Tess; a friend from school,” Alex said casually while his fingers found their way back to mine.
“Hi,” I said hoarsely.
The woman came closer and was soon followed by a man, no doubt Alex’s father, and Katie, his little sister. Meanwhile the tips of Alex’s fingers interlaced themselves with mine, I felt all the blood drain from my face and I knew I looked ashen. For a few glorious seconds our hands were fully entangled, but regretfully I had to let go of this most unusual display of closeness, to shake Mr. Preston’s extended hand.
“Oh look, Dane! Doesn’t that picture look exactly like that the gazebo my parents had in the Waco house?” Alex’s mom, Valerie, exclaimed.
“You’re right, almost exactly! We got engaged under that gazebo,” Dane explained to us, turning with a smile. “We kissed for the first time under it too,” he added, with a cocky smile, and kissed his wife on the cheek. She smiled back and without turning she reached for his hand and they entwined their fingers casually. I looked at their hands with envy, then stole a glance back at Alex, who mirrored my frustration.
Chapter 7
Seconds later we were ambushed by Wes, Brandy, and her date, who had had enough of the paintings. Wes b-lined to my side and claimed me by wrapping his arms around my waist. I could see the change in Alex right away; his look had reverted back to that former, cool, pained stare. I tried to apologize with my eyes, but he wouldn’t have it, he was mad now and it showed.