Forever Blue

by Abby Wilder

  Judah stared at me, or rather, through me, out his car window, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. He revved the engine, eyes locked, until finally, with a great roar, he took off, stones spitting in his wake.

  "Because you know what will happen," she continued, oblivious to the battles in my head.

  I did my best to ignore her and kept walking towards my car.

  "One day, someone will stumble across your dead and mangled body. He would have convinced you to climb up that stupid water tower again," she said, taking a deep breath in order to start her rant. I regretted the moment of weakness I had when I told her about my 'date' with Ruben. Of course to her, I called him Judah. "Only this time, some poor old lady will be walking through town, minding her own business, like the old ladies of this town do. She probably just went to the supermarket to buy her weekly fix of tea or shortbread, or whatever it is that old ladies buy, and she will be walking home when suddenly your body will come flying out of the sky and fall on the ground in front of her. She'll gasp from the fright and horror of it all because your body will be all mangled and broken, your arms will be sticking out in the wrong direction, and the bones in your legs will have broken through the skin, and blood will be everywhere." She mimicked the position by distorting her body and screwing up her face. "And then the poor old lady will have a massive heart attack and die right there in front of you, only you won't notice, because you'll already be dead. So, not only will you be dead, but you'll be responsible for the death of that poor little old lady. Do you really want that on your conscience?"

  I shook my head and laughed. "But if I'm dead, I probably won't even care." Because of the recent revelations in my life, I had to add the probably.

  Sienna shook her head dismally. "You're heartless, you know that? That poor, poor, old lady."

  "Are you finished?" I couldn't help but smile.

  Sienna posed in thought before finally nodding. "I think so."

  "Good."

  "Please, just tell me that you're not seeing him."

  "I've already told you that."

  She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Then why don't I believe you?"

  I looked up and saw Ruben waiting by my car. He stood in the manner I had become accustomed to, leaning against the driver's door, arms and ankles crossed, a slight smirk on his face. I looked away, trying not to acknowledge him. "Look, I've got to go, okay?"

  Sienna groaned loudly. "See? This is why I don't believe you. I never see you anymore. Where do you go? What do you do? I know you haven't got a life."

  "Maybe you don't know everything," I said. I tried to say it teasingly, but it didn't come out like that. It came out like an accusation.

  My words took Sienna back a little, but she cleared the surprised look off her face and sighed loudly, placing her hands on her hips and wagging her finger. "Nope, not this time."

  I opened the door to the car, still doing my best to ignore Ruben who was now mimicking Sienna's annoyed stance.

  "Not this time, what?" I asked absently.

  "You need to get rid of her," Ruben said. "Judah's on his way home and my parents aren't there. We need to go see him." He flicked his middle finger up at Sienna and I had to work hard not to let my grin show.

  Oblivious to Ruben's gestures, Sienna walked around to the other side of Elmo and opened the door. "You're not running out on me again this time."

  "Good to know she hasn't lost her bossiness," Ruben said as I flung my bag into the back seat of the car. I looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to hop in. "Can't you get rid of her?" he asked while clambering into the back seat.

  "We're going to see Grams," Sienna announced.

  I sat down and twisted the key in the ignition, not trusting myself to respond to either of them.

  Sienna raised her eyebrows high. "Well?" she demanded.

  "You never want to go and see Grams," I said.

  "That was before. This is now."

  Elmo spluttered into life first try, thanks to the new battery. "What's different now?"

  Sienna jerked the seatbelt over her waist. "You. I went to see Grams in the weekend, and—"

  "You went to see Grams?"

  "Well, the whole family did, and she told me how you haven't been visiting her as much. She's worried about you."

  "I'm fine," I said between gritted teeth.

  "We need to go see Judah," Ruben said. I closed my eyes to his touch on my shoulder and breathed deeply, reminding myself not to respond to him. My gaze flicked to the rear vision mirror to give him a warning glare, but he wasn't there, of course.

  Sienna pulled her seatbelt over her lap. "So?" she prompted.

  I roughly jerked the gearstick into reverse. "Fine. We'll go see Grams."

  Ruben groaned, flopped back in the seat and said, "We need to go see Judah," at the same time Sienna smiled triumphantly and said, "Good."

  "Shut up," I muttered under my breath at Ruben.

  But Sienna heard and scowled. "You shut up." She threw her bag over the back seat. It hit Ruben, bouncing off his arm and falling to the floor. We locked eyes. Did that just happen? I looked at Sienna, but she hadn't noticed and was still scowling at me. "When did you turn into such a bitch?" She looked at me expectantly and jerked her head forward. "Are we going, or what? Oh, and Grams said you'd know what to bring."

  The Fat Stag was always quiet on a Wednesday afternoon. There were just a few regulars propped up at the bar when Sienna, Ruben and I walked in. One of them whistled. Sienna gave him the fingers and called him a pervert. Ruben walked over and tipped the man's glass just as he was about to take a gulp. The glass teetered in the man's fingers and fell to the ground, shattering as it hit the tiles below.

  Sienna laughed and Ruben looked at me, astonishment gleaming in his eyes. "I just did that," he said. "Did you see?" He held his hands out and studied them as if they contained a power he didn't know about.

  "But how?" I asked before I realised I shouldn't.

  "Because he's a drunk old pervert and karma's a bitch." Sienna laughed as Faulkner, the barman, tossed the man a rag and told him to clean it up himself.

  Ruben walked over to the bar and nudged an empty glass with his finger. It moved a fraction, or, at least, I thought it did. I closed my eyes and thought about something else. I tried to move my awareness away from Ruben, but when I looked back the glass was still sitting where he had moved it. Ruben nudged it again and it tipped closer to the edge.

  "Just the usual?" Faulkner asked from behind the bar.

  I nodded, unable to keep my eyes from the glass. Ruben nudged it again and it fell to the ground, just missing the head of the man, and shattered on the floor. The man cried out and stood, dropping the shards of glass he had collected, and covered his face.

  "Sarah!" Faulkner called out to the only other staff member on duty. "Bring the first aid kit!" He came around the side of the bar and helped the man to a seat.

  "Ruben!" I hissed.

  His eyes were gleaming. "I did that!" he exclaimed. "Did you see? That was me. I moved it!"

  "Why did you just say Ruben?" Sienna asked.

  "I didn't," I said sharply, glaring at Ruben who was studying his hands again.

  Sienna rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Just get what you need, okay?"

  I cleared my throat. "Everything okay?" I asked Faulkner. He peered up from where he was wiping the blood off the old man's forehead. "Just a little scratch, nothing serious. Just help yourself and I'll add it to her tab."

  I walked behind the bar and reached up to the shelf that held the blue bottle of gin, waving it at Faulkner as we left.

  Ruben kicked a stone on the footpath and it skipped a few times before tumbling to a stop. Sienna's eyes followed it. He looked at me and grinned, but didn't say anything. Sienna climbed into the passenger's seat and I waited for Ruben to clamber into the back before hopping in. I shoved the bottle of gin into my bag.

  Ruben waited in the car as Sienna and I walked into the nursing home.
The door slid open and I walked over to reception to sign in and collect my visitor's badge, the bottle of gin safely hidden inside my school bag.

  The tea set was already sitting on the table, steam rising from the teapot and three cups and saucers ready to be filled. "You're late," Grams announced, frowning and tilting her head while tapping her cheek. She moved her cigarette to the side, letting the smoke swirl in the air as Sienna and I pecked her cheek. "Sit," she instructed, taking a final puff on the cigarette and flicking it out the open window. "You look tired."

  I thought of the dreams that frequented my sleep. "I'm fine, Grams."

  She raised her eyebrows but didn't say any more. "Did you bring it?"

  I pulled the bottle of gin out of my backpack and handed it to Grams. She reached over and pulled a lemonade bottle out of the drawer beside her bed and filled it with the gin before handing the empty bottle back. She winked. "You're a gem."

  "I don't know how you managed to convince that barman to sell you that. You're so underage," Sienna said.

  Grams smiled. "Faulkner and I have a long-standing arrangement. And he never takes money from Lennon, so he never actually sells her alcohol."

  Sienna laughed. "I must remember that for the next party I go to."

  "Don't you even think of taking advantage of my arrangement with Faulkner, young lady. I've got a good thing going on and I don't want you ruining it." Grams pulled another cigarette out of the packet, held it in her mouth and lit it, shielding the tip from the breeze that came in through the window. Ruben stood on the other side of the glass and I looked away quickly.

  "So?" Grams said, looking at Sienna pointedly. "How's your mother?"

  Sienna frowned. "She's fine. Just the same as Sunday."

  "And your father? And Phoenix? He's growing up so fast, isn't he?"

  Sienna gave me a confused look but I knew exactly what Grams was doing. She was making a point of not talking to me, trying to punish me for not coming to see her like I used to. Only, it wasn't a punishment. I was too busy trying to ignore Ruben's antics at the window. He was doing everything he could to distract me, pulling faces against the glass, mimicking Grams' sour facial expressions and exaggerated drags on her cigarette. But when he tapped on the glass, Grams jerked her head towards him.

  "What was that?" she asked sharply.

  "Nothing," I said a little too quickly. "What was what?"

  Grams narrowed her eyes. "You're lying to me, young lady. I don't like liars."

  "Lying about what?"

  "Everything." Grams tipped the lemonade bottle and poured some into her tea cup. The tea was still steeping in the pot. "You can go now."

  "Excuse me?" I said.

  "You can go now," Grams repeated, looking at me blankly. "I've got what I wanted and neither of you are clearly in the mood for chatting, so you can just go."

  Sienna and I left while Grams sipped on her 'tea' and stared out the window directly at Ruben. Her eyes never focussed on him but it was like she was searching for him, and I wondered if Grams could somehow sense him too.

  "That was strange, don't you think?" Sienna asked, checking her reflection in the rear vision mirror.

  "She's always strange."

  Sienna rolled her eyes. "Well, that was stranger than usual, don't you think."

  I didn't answer and kept my eyes glued to the road, trying not to think about Grams, or about Ruben, or about anything, really. My mind felt too crowded with cluttered questions. I couldn't think clearly.

  "Has Aunty Shell ever told you what happened with Grams? I mean, you know, about before," Sienna asked.

  I shook my head. "Just that she was petrified she was going to die young."

  "Debs says she went a little crazy." Sienna chewed on her nail, distorting her words. "I guess she was a little older than Aunty Shell, she remembers a little more. She doesn't talk about it often, but she had a few too many wines one night, it was after Aunty Shell had been over, actually, so no surprises there, and she almost told me about it."

  "Almost?"

  "Almost. Don't you think it's strange they never talk about it?"

  I shrugged and pulled into the school carpark. "What did she almost say? Grams doesn't really come across as sick or old. In fact, she doesn't seem to need to be in the home at all, not compared to some of them in there. She treats it more like a hotel than anything else."

  "Debs said something along the lines of how Grams would disappear for hours, sometimes days. Their father had to take Debs and Aunty Shell with him looking for her once, and they found her just wandering the walking tracks in the forest, mumbling and talking to herself. She was freezing, but it was like she didn't even notice. Granddad just couldn't stop her from wandering, so, in the end, he put her in this home, or hospital or someplace, and they kept her locked up, never able to leave the grounds. Then one day, she escaped and they found her at someone's house. The lady woke up to find her leaning over the bed. But after that, things got better. She never left that place, though, not until she came here after the fire at the old nursing home. Debs said they tried to get her to leave but she wouldn't have it, wouldn't leave her friends."

  This was the most I had ever heard of the story and it piqued my interest. "So what happened? What was wrong with her?"

  Sienna shrugged as I pulled the car to a stop beside hers. "As I said, she almost told me the story. She's never mentioned it again, and if I bring it up, she tells me the past is in the past and it doesn't matter." Sienna opened the door. "You still coming to the fireworks display on Friday, or are you going to ditch me for the boy you're not seeing?"

  I smiled. "I'll be there."

  "Promise?"

  "Promise."

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Lennon

  I forgot about Ruben in the back of the car until he spoke.

  "I wish I could go with you."

  "To the bonfire?"

  He climbed between the seats and sat beside me. "I wish I could be more."

  I smiled and reached out to cover his hand with my own, rubbing the smooth flesh which felt so warm under my touch. "You're enough."

  He shook his head. "No, I'm not. But I think I'm getting stronger or something. I actually moved that glass. Not just in my mind, or my memory, or—" He rested his head against the headrest. "Or wherever it is that I exist, but in the world, the real world, your world."

  "My world is your world," I said.

  He lifted his head and smiled, creasing the dimples in his cheeks. "You know what I mean. Maybe there's hope. Maybe I have to earn myself back into existence. See, I knew you were sent to help me. Now we just have to make Judah believe. Maybe the more people that know about me, the more I become."

  I started driving down the long driveway. No one answered when I first knocked on the front door of the Mitchells' residence. I knocked again and Judah's head appeared out the window above.

  "You," he stated.

  "Me," I confirmed.

  He pulled his head back in the window, and for a moment, I thought he was going to leave me standing on the front step, but soon I heard footsteps approaching and the door opened. Judah leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, unsmiling. "What do you want?"

  "Just to talk."

  "Is my dead brother with you?" He smirked, and I swear I saw a flash of amusement.

  I looked at Ruben and then back at Judah, and swallowed the nervous dread creeping up my throat. "Yes."

  "You're really something, you know that?" He stood aside and I waited on the step as Ruben entered. "Well, come in, then," he said, still leaning against the door and following me with his eyes as I entered the house. I followed Ruben down the hallway, passed a rugby jersey framed under lights, and up the stairs to a bedroom on the left.

  "Where are you going?" Judah called out, bounding after me.

  "This is my room." Ruben ran his fingers over the few sketches that lined the wall, covering the boldly striped wallpaper. They fluttered under his touch. />
  Judah leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, but didn't follow me inside. "This was his room," he said quietly. "He always kept it freakishly tidy."

  And it was. Everything had a place. The only thing strange about the room was the fine layer of dust. Judah noted my gaze skipping from the windowsills to the bedside cabinet to the TV stand and the frames of the pictures on the walls. Ruben traced his name in the dust along the windowsill.

  "Mum won't let them clean in here," Judah said. His voice broke a little and he cleared his throat. My eyes fell to the guitar resting against the wall, the only thing out of place.

  "You played?" I asked Ruben, forgetting for a moment that I shouldn't speak to him in front of Judah.

  "Ruben did," Judah said. "But he could only play one song."

  "House of the Rising Sun," Ruben said.

  I repeated it just as Judah did, and Judah chewed his bottom lip. "You knew." He smiled for a moment, then the grin fell from his face and he walked away. "I don't go in there." He disappeared into the room on the opposite side of the hallway.

  "Follow him," Ruben urged.

  I walked across the short hallway space and into Judah's room which was the exact opposite of Ruben's. There was barely any floor space visible with clothing strewn over the carpet and over the chairs. A large TV took up most of one wall and a bean bag and coffee table were placed in front of it. The screen showed a game, the avatar bouncing on the spot, performing the odd fight stance, waiting for Judah's return. Judah flopped down on the bean bag, but didn't offer, or clear a space for me to sit, so I awkwardly paced the floor in front of the window, looking out over the fountain. There was only one sketch on the walls of Judah's bedroom. It was crumpled, as though it had been discarded and then smoothed out. Musical notes formed the background for a word in bold firm strokes: euphonious. And in smaller handwriting underneath, pleasing; sweet in sound.

  Judah saw me studying it. "Ruben gave it to me years ago," he said. "Apparently it's a word associated with our star sign or some such shit." He was quiet for a long time before speaking again. "Sometimes I think I see him. Just a glimpse of him rounding the corner in front of me, or sometimes out on the rugby field, streaking past with the ball, but I know it isn't him. The therapist said it's just grief painting pictures in my mind." He turned down the volume on the game and resumed playing. "Is that what it's like for you?" he asked, flicking his eyes up briefly.