“You must be wondering why my leg isn’t bothering me anymore,” she says.
No, right now I’m wondering how to get you to want me as much as I want you. “Yeah, that did cross my mind.”
“All I know is that it doesn’t hurt anymore and I feel like it’s completely healed.”
“But it can’t be. It shouldn’t be better for a while—right?”
“Maybe they made a mistake. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as they thought.”
“Maybe.”
She gets up and walks around the room, looking at every picture I have on the walls. Mom always liked to frame our portraits and hang them all over the house. Every year, she would make us pose for a professional photographer that would charge her a fortune. It was endearing, and a little insane.
“Is this you?” Livia asks. I don’t need to look to know which one she’s talking about. It’s a picture of me, naked, on the lake when I was three. You can only see my behind. I keep hiding it away but it somehow manages to find its way back onto the shelf.
“Cute, huh?” I say with as much dignity as I can, moving close to her and laying the picture face-down on the bookshelf.
“Very!” She laughs and sits at the end of my bed, lifting her cast to look at it.
“Are you going to take it off?” I ask, sitting next to her.
“I would like to, but my dad…” She pauses and turns to look at me, and our faces are so close I can feel her exhaling.
“I can take it off if you want, in case your parents won’t. It’s easy.”
She narrows her eyes at me and opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Her eyes are digging into mine and I look away. It’s all I can do to restrain myself from kissing her, but I still feel her eyes on me and I chuckle, because I don’t know what else to do. I’ve never felt so powerless around a girl before. It’s like she is asking for me to make a move and I can’t find the courage to take the risk.
“What?” she asks, and when I say nothing she adds, “You don’t really want me here, do you?”
I turn to stare at her. “Why would you say that?”
“Your body stiffens every time I’m around. It’s like you’re not comfortable around me.”
I stare at her, puzzled. How could she be so off, so far away from the truth? “It’s not because I’m uncomfortable around you.”
“Then what is it?”
I move my gaze to her lips, where it lingers. She raises her eyebrows, waiting for my answer. I lean closer to her and she doesn’t move away. I want to get up and walk away from her, I want to stop myself before she does it herself, I want to regain control before it’s too late… But I can’t seem to find a will stronger than the attraction I feel—as if she’s a magnetic force that I can’t run away from, I lay my lips on hers.
I kiss her softly and slowly, at first. I don’t want to scare her away, but her lips are so inviting and so tender that they make me want more, make me go deeper. When my lips part and our tongues touch, goosebumps spread along my skin. Before I know it, I’m on my feet, facing her and running my hands through her hair, down to her neck, over her back, and I pull our bodies closer. Her hands explore my back, move to my chest, and rest on my arms where she tightens her grip. She lets her head tilt back and I kiss her ear and down her throat.
I cup her face in my hands and I study her face. I want to make sure this is real, that it’s her and not a dream. She moves herself further toward the back of the bed and I follow, hovering over top of her. She laces her hands in my hair and pulls my face to hers and she kisses me deep, faster and stronger. The more we kiss, the more I want, and more she gives me, my mind going to places I’ve never been.
She slowly pulls away and I try to gain control of myself. I don’t want to let her out of my arms, but I give in, and she is free. She’s lying next to me, both of us breathing heavy, but my body aches to touch her, to feel the heat of her against me. I look into her bright eyes and I can almost see my reflection in them. For a moment we just lie there, next to each other, without a word, without a touch, and without me knowing what is running through her mind.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks and I smile, happy to know I’m not the only one wondering.
“I’m thinking about you, how beautiful you look.”
She smiles and touches my hand. It makes me want more—to touch her back, to hold her in my arms.
“I—I’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss you,” she says.
“And?” My stomach clenches as if I’m on a rollercoaster.
“Like nothing I’ve experienced before.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
She just laughs and moves closer to me, touching her soft lips to mine and, once again, I lose myself in her kiss.
13 Livia
“Dad, I’m telling you, it’s better. I know it!”
He walks away, closing the door behind him. I’ve been telling my parents that my leg is better and I want the cast off, to see it for myself. The pain is completely gone; I can walk and even jump as if my leg had never been broken. The only thing bothering me right now is the cast itself.
I walk after my dad, chasing him down the stairs. “Fine!” I say and he turns to look at me. “If you’re not helping me take this thing off, I’ll do it myself.” I walk past him, heading to the front door.
“Livia, come back here! Sit down. Let’s talk like adults.”
“I did, but you’re not listening. Are you afraid that I might be right? Did it occur to you that I might have accelerated healing?” I look at him for an answer. “One more ability isn’t going to make me any more of a freak. I think I’ve reached the top of that list!”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Dad snaps. He pauses and says in a low tone, “You’re not a freak, but if we go to the hospital and the fracture is gone, what are they going to think? They’re not going to understand and they’ll ask questions.”
“Then take it off yourself, right here at home.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Right now!”
I know I’m being a brat, but I need to know if my body is fixing itself. More than ever, I want to know what is wrong with me and why. I want to find my biological parents. I don’t want to lie to Adam—I want him to know who I am, but I don’t even know myself. All I can think of is him, the kiss, his touch and I want more, but it won’t work if I’m too busy trying to hide everything else.
“Dad, please!” I press, “I need to know.”
“Just do it, Nick.” Mom says, walking in the living room. “Just do it here and, if it is true, we can say the hospital made a mistake. It’ll be easier to believe than the alternative.”
Dad looks at her and shakes his head. “I’ll do it.”
Mom is apprehensive and I get mixed feelings from her before I even get close to her. The more abilities I gain, the more complex it all gets. I give her a hug and thank her for her help.
This afternoon my Uncle Henry called from New York, and whatever he told my dad didn’t make him happy. I knew it was about me—his concerns were directly oriented on me constantly. After the call, though, he wouldn’t tell me what was going on. He said he needed more information and he didn’t want to talk about something that wasn’t conclusive. I didn’t understand what he meant, and feeling him trying to shield his emotions from me made me angry and sad. I had to leave the house for a while and be around someone that I couldn’t empathize with, so I called Adam.
Right now, all I care about is getting this cast off my leg and finding out if I’m healed. One more ability will make me stronger on the outside, but weaker on the inside. I don’t want to be bionic. I just want to be normal.
* * *
Dad is meticulously cutting through the fiberglass cast and loosens its hold on my leg. I’ve been sitting on the patio chair for a half an hour, counting the minutes, but it only makes time go slower. I thought it would be easier to get off, but it’s a little tricky. He’s being careful
not to cut into my skin while carefully demolishing the cast around it.
When the last piece comes off, I stare at my leg. It’s not swollen and it’s not bruised. Dad doesn’t even bother shielding his emotions—anxiety runs from fear to pleasure. I don’t hesitate to get on my feet and, as soon I’m up, I know I’m healed. I tremble and Dad holds me steady. I immediately feel my eyes watering and tears fall down my cheeks.
“Does it hurt?” Dad asks, his words full of hope. I can’t look at him when I answer.
“No, my leg doesn’t hurt at all.”
The reason I can’t seem to find balance has nothing to do with how my leg feels. I suppose I should be happy that it’s pain free, but deep inside of me the pain is unbearable. I hoped that I was wrong, that I would find my leg bruised, swollen, and aching. I hoped that the cast was holding it all together and shielding my hurt. What I find instead is a perfect leg, as if nothing ever happened to it. A total tibia fracture healed in forty-eight hours.
I look at my dad now, sitting on a chair, his face buried in his hands. I hear the door to the patio opening, I turn to look and Mom walks outside, her mouth slightly parted and her eyes widening as she stares at my leg.
“Oh my,” Mom gasps, bringing her hand to her mouth. She walks up to me, bends down, and touches my leg. “This is amazing!”
“Amazing?” Dad asks. “This isn’t a science project, Laura. This is our daughter.”
“Yes, and all these abilities are a gift from God. Can’t you see it?”
I shake my head in disbelief. “A gift?” I cry out. “I don’t want any of it! This only makes me a freak!”
Mom strokes my face, moving a lock of hair behind my ear. “Livia, honey, this doesn’t make you a freak.” She narrows her eyes at me. “It makes you resilient.”
“I need to call Henry,” Dad says, walking into the house.
Mom doesn’t take her eyes off me. “Don’t mind him—he’s just nervous. He’ll see that this is a good thing, as I hope you will.”
“How will I ever be able to be honest with people I care about, Mom? Let alone be in a relationship with someone. If they ever find out I’m like this, what will they think of me? I don’t want to spend my entire life hiding who I am, whatever I am.” I hide my face in my hands. Mom gently tilts my head up and cups my cheek.
“If your friends truly love you, they’ll love everything about you.” She embraces me in a tight hug. “I need to check on your dad.” She kisses my forehead and follows Dad inside. She mutters something else, but I’m no longer paying attention.
A gift from God? It might seem that way, but it sure doesn’t feel that way to me. Not when I have to hide it from everyone.
When I was little and my empathic ability first surfaced, I thought it was a sign, it meant that I had to help others overcome their problems. I felt a strong connection to the people around me. It was like I knew them because I knew what they were feeling. I tried to help a lady once. She was a teacher in my school and she was going through a difficult time, because her emotions were too strong, too intense. I didn’t know why she felt that way, and I had a need to comfort her. I told her that her sorrows, fears, and anger would eventually fade away and that she should talk to someone. She looked at me like I was a monster. I still remember the shock on her face. After that, I realized that I had no business knowing what other people felt, and that was the first and last time I would try to help a stranger.
When other abilities started surfacing more frequently, I began doing tons of research online. I never found anything that would remotely explain something like this. I’ve wondered if there are others like me, if maybe I belong someplace else other than Earth—and have to shake these ridiculous thoughts out of my head before I get carried away with them.
Taking a look back to make sure my parents aren’t watching, I start walking towards the barn. It’s late in the evening, the clouds are covering most of the sky—rain is on its way. I can feel the breeze on my face, lifting my hair and drying my tears even as they fall from my eyes. I have no shoes on and I feel the soft green grass under my feet. I push the barn’s door open and I walk to Aphrodite’s stall. She immediately picks her head up and studies me. I pet her nose and she snorts.
I sit next to her, leaning against the wall. I watch Aphrodite; she has no idea that my little fall from her has turned my life upside down. She’s comfortable but she senses something isn’t right with me. I can hardly ever empathize with animals, unless their emotions are extreme. Normally, I only pick up faint traces of their inner state. When I’m sad, I find comfort in Bento’s simple, pure emotions. It seems that with Aphrodite, I can find the same comfort. I close my eyes and take a long, deep breath. It smells like rain and horse hair, and it’s soothing.
Why would Mom think my abilities are gifts from God? Why does Dad seem to think the opposite? Being able to heal fast is my fifth ability to develop. What will be next? Or will this be it? I need to find my biological parents—someone, somewhere has to know who they are and what I am. I can’t help but wonder if I was born different and they knew they had to get rid of me. It would explain why they left me at a church; they thought only God could have mercy on me.
Despite all my curiosity about my family, I’ve never given much thought to why they didn’t want me. Many pieces to the puzzle are still missing. Why did they choose the Berwick couple to be my adopted parents? It can’t only be because the Berwicks had been trying to conceive for years. It can’t only be because they were rich and would give me a good life and a good education. There must be more than that. My parents had to have chosen them for a very specific reason, but what is it?
I hear thunder, so I get up, pet Aphrodite reassuringly as I tell her goodnight, and then fasten the barn doors tightly so that she’ll be safe from the storm. I enter the house unnoticed. I go up to my room and I take a long shower. The water cascading down my face makes me feel better, stronger, like all of the stress from today is being washed away.
I’ve decided that finding my biological parents is my priority now. I’ll do anything, go anywhere, and even use my abilities if I have to. I’ll pay attention to the emotions around me. Maybe I’m being watched; maybe they’ve been following me all these years. Observing from a distance—why not? Maybe my biological parents have known where I am all along. They chose a family for me, after all.
Or they could not care at all…
After I shower, I walk downstairs to get something to eat and I find my parents at the kitchen table. They both stare at me as I walk in.
“Livia, I want to apologize for my behavior earlier.” Dad gets out of his chair and settles his hands on my shoulders. “I should’ve been happy that your leg was better—that you were free of pain.” He hugs me, but I don’t reciprocate.
“My leg is free of pain, Dad. That doesn’t mean I’m free of pain.” I feel my dad’s body ridding itself of every bit of hope he had of making me feel better. “You shouldn’t waste your time telling me things that you don’t really believe. Have you forgotten I know exactly what you feel?”
“Livia!” my mother cuts in sharply. “Your father is just trying to help. You don’t need to be callous!”
“I’m sorry, but I’m just being honest.” I walk to the kitchen table and I sit down. I’m not even hungry anymore. “What did Uncle Henry say?”
Dad slowly returns to his seat, stiff and resigned. “Not much, but he didn’t seem surprised either. He said that we shouldn’t contact the hospital. We should just tell people you weren’t hurt as badly as we thought, that you didn’t really fracture your leg.”
“You know the hospital has an X ray and can prove they were right,” I say.
“I don’t think people will question it,” Mom says, looking at Dad. “Let’s just keep the hospital out of this, and to whoever asks, we’ll just say what Henry told us to say.”
“Fine by me,” I sigh, but they’re still exchanging looks. I don’t need to empathize with them to know t
hey are worried sick. “You both know what needs to be done,” I announce. “We need to find my biological parents.”
“We are working on it,” Mom tells me. “It’s not that simple.”
“Have you thought that maybe it’s someone you know? They chose you.”
“We have thought about everything,” Dad says. “It may take years, but we won’t ever give up. That I promise you.”
I know he means it. I just don’t have years to wait. With not so much as a goodbye, I get up to retreat to my room, but Dad stops me.
“Livia, at least allow me to take a blood sample from you. I could check it again and see if there are any changes in your DNA.”
“Dad, we’ve done this.”
“I just want to try.”
I give in. I let him get a new blood sample—it’s all about science with him, after all. At least Mom looks at my abilities as gifts from God. Dad just thinks I have a mutant gene.
14 Adam
I wake up in the morning to my phone beeping. It’s a text from Livia, telling me to meet her at the lake at one o’clock. I look at the time; it’s 11:30 already. I had a hard time falling asleep last night. When I wasn’t thinking about her, I was thinking about Stevens and Dad’s argument. I could very well look for this guy, talk to him myself and see what he wants to tell me. If he has any kind of proof at all, then some of what he said must be true.
I manage to drag myself into the kitchen, where Dad is eating at the table, and I make to back out. I can’t even stand being around him right now; the fact that he lied to me pisses me off. Still, I go against my better instinct and walk in. I busy myself with digging around in the fridge for the milk.
“Adam?” Dad turns to look at me. “Your mom should be home soon. She’s bringing lunch from your grandma’s.”
“I won’t be home.”
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