by Azzurra Nox
“Yes, why shouldn’t I?”
“So you’re not going with Jon I take it?”
“Who told you that?”
“Well, I happen to know he’s not going.”
“Maybe that’s what he told you.”
There was a deadly silence between the two as she saw Bethany look at Dior trying to see how she should act towards her friend being insulted.
But Dior tried to play it off nonchalantly, “Maybe he hasn’t told you, my dear.”
“He’ll be at Prom,” she glared, pulling up the layers of her dress so she could head back inside the dressing room only wanting to escape Dior’s attack. “With me,” she added, and then told the salesclerk, “I’m taking this dress, get the box ready.”
Storming back into the mirrored dressing room, she slipped out of the dress as fast as she could without causing any tears or snags. Outside, she could hear Dior and Bethany still babbling. Her nerves were frazzled from the confrontation. Now she had to talk Jon into taking her. Why was she so foolish? A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail before she stepped back out into the main shop.
“Please have the dress sent to my house, put it on my mother’s bill.”
“Yes, Miss Stam.”
The only thing she could think about was how much she wanted to get away from the shop and from Dior and Bethany. Charity case. That’s what they had referred to her as. If that were true, it could be possible that Jon liked Hope. Everyone at school knew he moved from one girl to another in speeding fashion, why did she ever think that he was going to be any different with her? After all, he had left Amelia. It’s why Amelia went nuts and swallowed a bottle of lye. She was walking fast, trying to keep her speed.
In her rush she had forgotten to wear the veil over her face, and noticed the eyes on her. A little girl stared at her hard and long before asking her mothers, “Mommy? Mommy? What’s wrong with that girl? What’s on her face?”
The same question she was asked throughout her years growing up by kids at the park or school. “What’s wrong with your face?”
It’s what everyone was dying to know, but adults wouldn’t dare ask. Kids were the only ones left with the bluntness to dare ask what everyone else avoided to. Dipping her hand into her purse, she pulled out a pair of oversize black sun glasses. It didn’t matter if the sky was as grey as a London morning, it was the best quick fix she had on hand.
Her hands shook and she tried to get on her phone menu to speed dial her driver. She had told him to pass by in two hours, but now more than anything she only wanted to go home. Get away from everyone. Agitated, she continued to walk steadily down the street, praying that the driver would pick up. When he did, she explained she was tired, that he needed to come right now. She stopped walking and sat on a bench. It had been so long since she had felt this way. Inadequate and a freak. Jon had made her feel beautiful. His photos had given her a false hope in feeling normal. But she wasn’t. She would never be.
What now? Today should’ve been a good day. She was a girl who had just found the most perfect Prom dress and Jon was supposed to be her date. But everything had combusted like a nuclear disaster in a matter of seconds. Now, she was walking through the debris of the aftermath on uncertain legs and shaken hope. Some things weren’t just meant to change.
Chapter Ten
The phone rang in the background. It sounded far away as though it was in the distance and not in the same room. Soon the obnoxious sound stirred Jon from his sleep. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and squint to check the time. The clock’s neon numbers glowed in green reading 4:30a.m. Who could it possibly be at this hour? Groaning he sat up, pressing the accept button, his voice was still hoarse from being startled out of sleep when he answered with a brisk, “Hello?”
“They found him.”
These were the words he had been waiting to hear for years. He knew that sooner or later it would happen. It always came in the form of a telephone call. Or at least that’s how it had always been depicted in his thoughts about it.
“Dad?”
“Jon, they may have found him.”
The next question was going to be the hardest but probably the most rational one since six years had passed since the incident. Neither of them spoke for a moment. There was a dead silence between the two.
“He’s dead isn’t he?”
“They found a pair of bones at Coney Island buried not too far from the beach.”
“So…he’s dead?”
“They still need to do DNA testing to see if it’s him, but the bones fit the description of his age at the time.”
“Wait…so they’re unsure whether it’s really him?” a spark of hope, even if small fluttered in his heart. After all these years a part of him couldn’t deal with a resolution that led to death.
“No, they haven’t done DNA testing yet.”
“So you called me without any precise evidence?”
“I thought you should know. He was your brother.”
“He is my brother. Until someone can prove he’s dead, I’m not pronouncing him such.”
“I understand, son.”
“So call me again when you have some hard facts, until then don’t call.”
“Jon, are you okay? I’ve been trying to call you for days but you haven’t been taking my calls.”
“Dad, my ex girlfriend died a sudden death. It hasn’t been the best time.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“You would if you were here.”
“Jon, I wasn’t the one who moved halfway across the country to get away from the past.”
“We just couldn’t handle it anymore, Mom and I. We just had to move on.”
“I’ve missed you two. I miss what we used to have. We were a family.”
“Dad, I can’t really talk about this right now, it’s too early.”
“Right, I’m sorry, I forgot you’re three hours behind.”
“Bye,” a curt end as he punched the red button with his thumb, threw the mobile on the bedside table. A thousand thoughts whirled around in his mind. Just a second ago he was brimming with exhaustion. Now he was wide awake. He got up, walked up to his window, pulling the plastic shades away. The fog hovered over the city like a menacing hand. There was no sign of dawn breaking through the marine layer, as clouds moved over in fits of tightly knitted intricate origami. It was too early to get ready for school, but trying to find sleep was futile. He could only hope that his father wouldn’t call his mother later on in the day. There was no need to alarm her when nothing was certain.
He missed New York. That was something he never wanted to readily admit, but it was true. Whenever November rolled by he longed to see snow on the streets, and the trees barren from their leaves. Palm trees and a blazing sun weren’t his idea of winter at all. Not to mention that he yearned to ice skate at Rockefeller Center, because surfing wasn’t exactly his thing. But he never dared tell his mother this. He didn’t want her to feel guilty for taking him with her when she fled New York.
Sometimes, when he closed his eyes he could still smell the scent of chestnuts roasting on the street corners, and hear the laughter of Robert as they skipped down the sidewalk pretending to be superheroes and creating special powers on a whim. For all those years they had been inseparable. They shared a room and dreams of exploring space. Their parents had set up a constellation poster on the roof of their room, and a solar system model hung from the ceiling. At nights when they couldn’t easily fall asleep, they’d pretend to be in space and talk about their discoveries.
When someone has always been a part of you, it’s hard to do without. Looking at his reflection sometimes was both a relief and a curse. He knew that his brother would have the same features if he were to see him today. There were times where he consoled himself with the doppelganger in the looking glass, thinking that it could replace the void. It was only a silly notion, but when he felt lonely, it comforted him. Jon
touched the windowpane, wanting to reach the city beyond the glass. Ten million people lived in Los Angeles, and yet, he couldn’t help but think about how alone he truly was. When Amelia was alive there had been that brief connection. He closed his eyes. Lena’s chalk white skin came into mind. The contrast between the paleness of her flesh and black of her blazer sometimes drove him mad with the desire to touch her. But he couldn’t. This frustrated him. The sort of frustration that left him feeling restless and wild. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his thoughts. His fingers gripped the windowsill tightly, his knuckles turning white.
The phone rang once more. A queasy feeling overcame his stomach. He almost didn’t want to respond, but decided to see who it was. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Sydney’s name flash on the screen. Although he wondered what she was doing up so early already, but then again, she could be going surfing with Connor.
“Hello?”
“Hi…I haven’t heard from you for awhile.”
“I know, I’m sorry I’ve been M.I.A.”
“I’ve missed you. But I didn’t want to stifle you. I know you needed to be alone.”
“Thanks for that. I’ve missed you too, Syd.”
There was a sigh on the other end of the phone, and then she blurted out, “Is it true what Dior claims? That you’re not going to prom?”
He rubbed his temple, this wasn’t the kind of conversation he wanted to be having at five o’clock after what he had been through with his father earlier.
“Is it important for you to go?”
“What does it matter what I think?”
“Look, Syd. It matters. If you want me to take you, I will.”
“I don’t want you to do something you don’t feel like doing.”
“We can go. I just don’t want to be around for the announcement of the queen and king.”
“Oh…okay.”
His hate for the event was diminishing, thinking about how much Sydney just wanted to be ordinary. Maybe it wouldn’t kill him to help her in that. She had been nothing but supportive with him since their relationship began.
“Don’t sound that way, I really do want to take you. Seeing you all decked out will probably be the highlight of the night.”
“You’re such a charmer, Jon.”
“I know, I’ve been told that,” it came out sounding more smugly than he had intended to.
The gnawing feeling of loneliness was slowly creeping away, knowing that Sydney still cared. Not that he had doubted her feelings, but when he hadn’t heard from her in awhile, he thought that maybe she had gotten tired of him and his lackadaisical ways. If she had, he would’ve understood completely. He knew that he wasn’t the perfect boyfriend who said the perfect things at the right time. Actually, it was always the complete opposite.
“Are you going surfing today?”
“I am. I should get going.”
“I’ll see you later.”
He wished he could banish thoughts of Lena away from his mind. If he could pluck out his heart, he’d readily carve out her name from the center. But feelings were never rational, and if they were, it wouldn’t be love. Jon had never been in love before, and from the looks of it, he wasn’t too enthused by what it brought on. For him, love was only a tormented suffering, like having barbwire wrapped tightly around his chest and squeezed. Whatever happened to the love that songs spoke of? The ones that were carefree? Maybe it didn’t exist. Maybe no one really wanted to admit that love was simply a sick joke that one was unfortunate enough to endure.
Chapter Eleven
The cold wind pierced Lena’s skin. She quickly regretted her choice of having left her jacket at home. She never would’ve thought that it’d be this chilly in June, being close to the beginning of summer. But she had been told that these were the months of gloom and fog. Bethany had convinced her to accompany her to the cheerleading tryouts. Lena had been adamant in not wanting to tryout herself, and Bethany had assured her that she wouldn’t have to if she didn’t feel up to it, but that she’d like to have a friend there for moral support.
She was seated on the bleachers as Bethany went over her routine. Being a dancer gave her the elasticity that the stunts required, but while Bethany’s movements were fluid, her cheers lacked the enthusiasm needed to get a crowd to chant along with her. Dior was a pro, with her plastered smile and infectious giddy voice that was both assertive, and yet playful. The field was full of aspiring cheerleaders. All the girls wanted to wear the cute outfits and be the center of attention. Everyone but Lena. The only time she didn’t mind the attention was when she was dancing. Onstage with her en pointe shoes was when she was the most happy. Ballet was her element, and nothing could ever substitute it.
Earlier, on their way to the field, Lena tried to bring up the topic of Blake with Bethany. A distant look cloaked her eyes, her voice got quiet, squeaky like a mouse.
“Before she died that morning, she sent me a text. It was a sentence from Cut Here, The flights of angels will set me free,“ she explained, nervously twirling sections of her short bob with her thin elongated fingers. Lena had remained silent, taking in the information, knowing for certain now that Adriel had been the cause of Blake’s death.
Something strange caught Lena’s eye, as she noticed dark red spots bleeding through Bethany’s back unto the material of her shirt. A strange black protrusion coming out from the middle of her back. She was about to mention something to her when the cheers commenced.
“LET’S GO! LET’S FIGHT! LET’S GO SERAPHIMS!” Bailey jumped ecstatically up and down, doing a series of cartwheels around the field. Her newly dyed turquoise hair was the only vibrant color in that grey day. The other girls who were already cheerleaders were decked out in the school colors, white and maroon. The coveted outfits had such a short skirt that Lena wondered how they ever managed to get this pass as appropriate for a Catholic school. But maybe all the county’s schools cheerleading outfits had the same style, Lena reasoned. So it had less to do with the nuns being indulgent, but more rather on the provider of the uniforms. From the corner of her eye she could see mothers of some of the girls that had gone to cheer their daughters on.
She sighed thinking about how much she missed her mom. One of the most vivid memories that remained etched in her brain was of the two of them on the beach lazily sun bathing. The Sicilian sun was so warm that it felt like it was scorching her soul; it kissed her limbs and coaxed her to indolence. A radio in the background played an Interpol song which weaved itself beautifully with the sound of the soft, yet forceful waves crashing against the lava rocks nearby. Lena longed for that sun, for that moment when the world seemed perfect.
A raindrop fell upon her forehead and she was jerked out of her reverie. An umbrella passed over her head. She looked to her side and smiled when she saw Michael there. “You’re a lifesaver,” and greeted him with a kiss. So much time had passed since that night when he left in a hurry. He kissed her back, his fingers curling through her hair as he kept the umbrella steady with his other hand. Her eyes were closed as he deepened the kiss, and she saw a flash of light and a sword coming down. Disturbed by the image, she quickly pulled away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’ve missed you.”
The rain began to pick up, and girls scattered to and fro attempting to get out of the rain. Bethany called out for Lena asking her if she wanted to join them at Dior’s but Lena just shook her head and gave her a hand signal that meant that she could go on without her.
“I think it’s going to pour, let’s get going,” Michael told her, and they got up, leaving the bleachers.
Lena was careful not to plunge her shoes into the mud, even if the Doc Martens could take such abuse. Goosebumps spread across her arms from the chilly air, and she rubbed them in an attempt to warm up. Michael gave her a funny look and she said, “It’s cold, don’t you feel it?” She could see the shape of the gazebo come into view as they got closer to the little hill and the trees
surrounding the area.
“No,” he said as they continued to walk. The ground beneath their feet becoming moist as the air filled with the smell of wet grass and soil. “But I can’t feel what you feel,” he held the black umbrella over her head, some of the rain was wetting his hair. His brown curls gleamed with a glistening sheen. “I can’t feel pain…or at least we’re not supposed to.”
“What do you mean, you’re not supposed to?”
“I’m not like you.”
“What do you mean?” a troubled expression etched upon her brow.
“Hope was right when she said I wasn’t human. In my dimension there’s no pain or pleasure. We’re in a place in which there’s the absence of both. It’s why we’re content, because we can’t feel the extremes.”
Fear prickled down her spine like tiny spiders marching one by one.
“So…you don’t feel happy when you’re with me?”
“Our emotions are only linked when we’re in our dimension. When we come down here we may be subject to everything that mortals feel. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes, just sometimes, we can feel love or hate.”
“What happens when that occurs?”
“We have to be careful. We mustn’t forget why we came down to earth. We can’t forget our mission. But it’s hard. Especially…”
“Especially what?” she interrupted him when his voice trailed off.
“Especially when I only want to remain here with you,” he stopped walking for a moment looking over at her, his emerald eyes seemed to caress her features.
“What’s your mission?”
“To destroy all evil.”
“Where are you from?” her voice was quiet now, too frightened to interject with the thoughts that jumbled her mind.
“I could tell you, but it would change everything.”
He let go of the umbrella. She watched it fall to the ground as she felt him grab her by the shoulders. His lips pressed against hers, hard, and urgent as though he couldn’t contain his feelings. Michael urged her to walk back, and she did so, trying not to stumble backward, as he pressed her back against a tree. She almost didn’t notice that the rain had gotten consistently heavier, but not enough to distract her from him. His hands moved from her hips to her breasts. Gasping for air, she murmured, “I wish you’d just take me.”