The Unseen Trilogy

by Stephanie Erickson

  Oddly, Mitchell was one of my biggest advocates. Owen’s best friend was quiet—incredibly so—but somehow, his silent companionship was more comforting than any advice and encouragement the others offered me. When he was around, I felt… understood. He didn’t want me to feel anything except what I was feeling. Most of the time, he would come by with Owen, but occasionally, he’d visit alone.

  Once, I heard him and Owen whispering near the door of my room.

  “Just give her time,” Mitchell said. “She’ll come through it eventually.”

  “How much longer until eventually happens, Mitch?” he asked.

  I didn’t hear the answer. Instead, I snuggled down deeper into the covers.

  David came to see me once or twice, but seeing as our relationship was relatively new, he never quite found the words to say. He would just stand near the edge of my bed, opening and closing his mouth, as if about to speak, and then change his mind. Once, while I was pretending to sleep, I saw him reach out for me, but he must have thought better of it because he turned to leave instead.

  Tracy only stopped in once.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. Let me know when you’re ready to work.” Her words were brief and stern, but oddly, full of sympathy. I wasn’t ready for them, so I kept my back to her and stared at the wall, following the cracks in the paint with my eyes.

  Finally, about ten days after Maddie’s death, Owen reached his breaking point. “You have got to get up,” he said simply.

  I didn’t respond. His words barely even penetrated my grief, so rather than acknowledge them, I continued to stare at the changing images on the TV.

  He jerked the comforter off me and tossed it into a heap on the floor. My pajama bottoms were hiked up to my knees from all my thrashing around. The T-shirt I had on was stained and probably smelled from being worn for days on end. My brown, curly hair had turned into a ratty mass that dominated the space above my shoulders, barely leaving my face visible. I preferred it that way. Because if he could see my face, he’d know how broken I felt.

  I curled into a ball and turned my back to him, shielding myself from the outside world, the one that didn’t have my Maddie in it anymore. But the outside world was through with letting me ignore it.

  He scooped me out of bed, ignoring my whines of protest. “Come on. I have a surprise for you. But you have to get up to get it.”

  After carrying me down the hall and into the bathroom, he opened one of the stall doors and unceremoniously plopped me onto one of the toilets. Thankfully, no one else seemed to be in the bathroom at the time, although I didn’t pick my head up long enough to do a thorough scan. Based on the awful TV programming Owen had torn me away from, I estimated it to be midday, which would explain the absence of people. Most likely, they were all either on the work floor researching their next targets or out on assignments, tracking down potential threats to society with their abilities. Silently, I thanked him for choosing this time to drag me back into the world of the living. That way, no one else had to see what I’d become, at least not yet.

  He knelt down in front of me and placed his hands on my knees. I didn’t look at him, hiding instead behind my mop of hair. He reached up and tried to tuck some of it behind my ear, but he only managed to get his hand tangled in the mess. After a few minutes of struggling, tugging, and painful pulling, he was free.

  “Well, now that I’ve thoroughly ruined the moment, please get yourself showered. I’m going to wait here for you. You can talk to me if you want… or not. Just know that I am here.”

  I didn’t nod or acknowledge that he’d spoken in any way. I just stared down at the floor of the bathroom. There were precisely fourteen small, yellow tiles in my view. I counted them again.

  “I can stand here all day, Mac. David’s given me some time off, in light of your… condition,” Owen said as he leaned against the wall opposite me.

  Finally, I tore my eyes away from the fourteen tiles at my feet and looked up at him. It was the first time I’d done so in days. How was it that he hadn’t changed at all? My world had collapsed in on me, and yet, he knelt in front of me, perfectly put together in a clean T-shirt and cargo shorts. His black waves had recently been combed, and despite everything I’d become, his gorgeous, dark eyes did not look away from me. There was no judgment or expectation in his expression, only hope, and maybe a little sadness. It made my chin quiver.

  He sighed. “Mac, I’m sorry.” It wasn’t much, but it was enough. He held his arms out to me, and I climbed into them. His clean scent enveloped me, bringing the comfort only he could give. Although I’d cried in his arms a lot over the last several days, this time felt different, like it was washing away some of the haze that cocooned me. Not all of it, but some.

  I wasn’t sure how long he let me cry, but eventually, I took a breath and sat back to look at him. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. Not yet.

  He gazed deep into my swollen eyes. “You’re welcome.” He paused, and then wiped one side of my soaked face. “Now, quit your blubbering and take a shower. You’re a snotty mess.”

  The old me would’ve laughed and swatted at him. But that girl was gone. There was no trace of her anywhere. And this new girl I’d become didn’t know who she was… or how to laugh. So I just stared blankly at him.

  He chuckled awkwardly. “All right, Mac. Go get in the shower. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

  At his prompting, my body stood, as if by its own will, and went into the nearest stall. They were all divided into two sections. An outer curtain concealed a small space equipped with a bench for your clothing, and then the actual shower stall was behind a glass door. I was grateful these showers had doors. Shower curtains were useless—if there was any kind of gentle breeze, they ended up getting stuck to your wet skin.

  The water came on hot, and steam soon engulfed the stall and fogged up the door. I stood watching it for a moment, numb to everything.

  Slowly and methodically, I peeled my days’ old clothing away from my skin, threw them on the bench, and stepped into the steaming water, shutting the door behind me. At first, I just stood there, letting the water fall on me, willing it to wash the memories away. When it didn’t, I sighed and actually started washing. Each stall was equipped with men and women’s toiletries, organized in small cabinets built into the wall of the stall. They were well stocked and typically had a variety of shampoos, conditioners, shower gels, and soaps.

  My hair was very nearly a lost cause, and I seriously considered shaving my head for a moment. I searched the cabinet for a comb, but I came up empty. After using about half a bottle of conditioner, I gave up and decided to get out.

  With one towel wrapped around my rat’s nest and a second around my body, I exited the stall. True to his word, Owen was waiting for me where I’d left him. “Ah. Good. You’re still alive. You just about steamed me out.”

  I stood looking at him, waiting for my next directive. “I didn’t bring you any clothes, so you’ll have to get dressed in your room.” He held out his arm, pointing in the direction he wanted me to go, and I silently went. After stopping to scoop up my dirty clothes from the bathroom floor, he followed close behind me.

  Once in my room, I picked out a T-shirt and a pair of knit shorts while he waited outside for me. I didn’t bother to make sure my outfit matched. In fact, I couldn’t stop looking at my bed. The comforter was still on the floor where Owen had left it, but I could easily remedy that. It looked so inviting, in a rumpled sort of way.

  Before my train of thought could get much farther out of the station, Owen knocked. When I didn’t respond, he came in. “Hey, don’t go getting any ideas,” he said, clearly noticing the way I was lusting after my bed.

  He pulled my rolling stool out from under my keyboard and sat me on it, sitting across from me on the bed. “Thought the bed might be too tempting for you.”

  Of course, he was right.

  “So, listen. I told you I have a surprise for you, and I do. This thi
ng called Coda is coming to town.”

  That caught my attention. Coda had been a big deal in my former community. Orchestras from all over the world came together to perform in a three-day music festival. As much as I’d always wanted to go, it had never been a realistic consideration. For one thing, it was always held in another state or even another country. For another, I never had the money for traveling, let alone for tickets to the event. One year, I had actually summoned the courage to ask the woman I’d believed to be my aunt to lend me the money. Needless to say, I didn’t end up going that year either.

  So it had seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity when I found out it would be held in town this year. I had even called Maddie about it, and we daydreamed about going together.

  But my bestie wasn’t around to go with me anymore. It hadn’t occurred to me that Owen might want to go in her stead.

  Owen smiled at my obvious interest in his topic of choice, pulling a folded brochure out of his back pocket. It was wrinkled from the steam in the bathroom, but still legible. It boasted the London Symphony Orchestra, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, and the LA Philharmonic. But their featured orchestra was the Royal Concertgebouw—the best one in the world. I gasped when I saw their name. They had never performed in Florida before.

  The old me tugged at the pieces of my heart desperately, not wanting to miss this opportunity. I traced the bold, yellow letters of THE ROYAL CONCERTGEBOUW with my finger.

  “I thought you might like to go,” Owen said quietly, resting his hand on my knee.

  I looked up at him, torn between knowing he was right and wrong. He’d been watching me, searching for some sign of life.

  Gazing into his beautiful, brown eyes so full of hope, it was hard to deny him. But could I really go without Maddie, knowing it was something we’d intended to experience together?

  Trying to rescue me from my floundering, Owen spoke up again. “I thought I might like to go with you. Maybe brush up on my Gasbag de la noot?” It was a special joke between us—his purposeful mispronunciation of the piece I dreamed of mastering on the piano. He paused for a moment. “Especially since I haven’t heard you play it for a while.”

  His observation made me flinch. I hadn’t played since the day after Maddie’s death, the day I agreed to be part of the Unseen. I’d seen her spirit so plainly, leaning against the piano so she could listen to me play, her face drawn into a relaxed smile. I could almost hear her humming along, her beautiful voice a soft whisper carried along by the notes I banged out of the piano. Part of me wanted desperately to play again, just to bring her back. Another part of me was terrified she wouldn’t be there this time. Maybe she’d said her goodbyes that night, and I’d never see her again. If I didn’t play at all, I could still hold onto those slender threads of hope.

  “So, what do you say?”

  I looked down at the pamphlet again. The festival was being held at my alma mater, Florida State. The performances would be in several auditoriums, so people could easily walk from one concert to the next. It was a great venue for the prestigious event, and it would only cement the school’s reputation as the premier music school in the area. Over twenty thousand people were expected to attend, so book your seats today, the brochure implored.

  As much as I wanted to stay locked up in my room—in my grief—forever, I knew I couldn’t. I tried to smile at him, but it was like my face had forgotten how. So I nodded instead.

  His face lit up as he jumped up from the bed and scooped me into his arms. Hugging me close, he spun around, and I caught the stool with my legs. It rolled across the room, but Owen didn’t even notice. He was too joyful.

  He kissed me earnestly, which surprised me. We hadn’t shared a real kiss in quite some time. Sensing my need for space, he’d kissed away my tears, kissed my forehead when we parted ways, things like that, but this was different. It was full of potential—potential for our future, for the life we could share if I wanted it.

  He smiled from ear to ear as he set me down. “This will be so fun, and hopefully, it’s just what you need to remind you of who you are.”

  That was an awfully lofty expectation for Coda, despite the fact I had long considered it a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but I didn’t want to kill his enthusiasm.

  For the first time since the day Maddie died, I found my voice. It was raspy and cracked with disuse, but it was there, waiting for me. “Thank you,” I said and weakly attempted to clear my throat.

  Owen beamed at me. “Wow. You could totally play a Star Wars villain with that voice.”

  Again, I felt like I should smile, and I almost wanted to. Almost.

  Thinking of everything he’d done for me—and how little I’d given back—I blurted out, “Owen, why are you being so good to me?” The question had plagued me for days.

  He sighed. “I know what you’re going through, Mac, and I don’t expect anything from you, if that’s what you think. I’m here to let you know you’re not alone. I’m not going to lie—I hope we can have a more two-sided relationship when you’re ready—but we don’t have to decide that now. Until then, all I want to do is be there for you.”

  It was the perfect answer, and it reminded me of exactly why Owen had captured my heart, why I’d wanted to be with him once all the secrets between us fell away. Could he fill the void Maddie had left in my life? No, probably not. But could his love heal my broken heart? Maybe, if I was willing to let it.

  I tried to smile at him, but the effort was too much. I’d already said thank you, so I was left with nothing, no way to show him my gratitude.

  He smiled knowingly and saved me from saying more. “Maybe you’d like to join me for a movie? Remember, I have the whole day off to celebrate that you’re rejoining the world.” He held his hand out for me to take, looking at me with that same hope in his eye. This time, my chin didn’t quiver. My tears were spent, for now.

  But my exhaustion wasn’t. I glanced back at my bed. This was the most action I’d had in days. It was enough for me, but apparently not for Owen.

  “Come on. It’ll be fun,” he promised, still holding his hand out for me.

  Silently, I took his hand and followed him upstairs. Just like that, I rejoined the world of the living, but the ghosts of my past followed close behind.

  2

  The days that followed my shower were a blur of being paraded around the facility and kept busy playing video games, doing mindless chores, or watching movies. Owen suggested playing the piano a few times, but I evaded him.

  Aside from Owen, I continued to spend a lot of time with Mitchell. It was too much effort to try and form new friendships with any of the girls in the Unseen. They weren’t unkind to me, but I kept them at a distance, and they all seemed fine with that.

  Mitchell and I often sat in silence in the main room, no pressure on either of us to speak. He might sit on one couch with his legs stretched out in front of him, reading a book or listening to some podcast he’d found, while I would lay on the adjoining couch, staring off into my haze, our bodies following the L-shape of the furniture. We hardly ever turned on the TV, despite its huge, imposing presence on the other side of the room. Mitchell never asked me if I wanted something to read—he just let me sit—and because of that, I found him very comforting. He was there if I wanted to talk, but he never seemed disappointed if I didn’t.

  David kept his distance for the most part, and I appreciated his decision to give me some space. I couldn’t deal with the constant drain of my grief, let alone form a relationship with my long-lost father.

  But, eventually, he called me into his office, apparently tired of waiting for me to seek him out. “Hi,” he said after I sat down in front of his desk, the simple greeting delivered almost cautiously.

  I looked at him, not feeling like that needed a response. Responses required too much effort, for very little return. At any rate, everyone seemed to be getting used to my new, quieter nature, so he didn’t miss a beat when I didn’t answer him
.

  “It’s been over two weeks since…” He paused. “Since you moved in with us. I think it’s time for you to return to your training. Tracy is ready to begin tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you ready?”

  I shrugged.

  David sighed. “Now look, I know you feel like you’ve lost everything, but I wish you could see that you’ve gained a few things too. You’re not alone here, Mackenzie. We’re all trying to give you some space, but I have to tell you, your attitude is less than encouraging. You have the most potential of anyone I’ve ever seen come through my office. Will you throw that away because you’re too blinded by your grief to seize the life that’s in front of you?”

  My eyes narrowed as anger loosened my tongue. He wasn’t my father any more than the woman I’d grown up with was my aunt. “So, now you want to give me some fatherly advice?”

  The beginnings of a frown formed on his face. “No, I’m just trying to help.”

  “You want to help?” My anger was flowing freely now that the dam had broken. “How about throwing some understanding my way, instead of judging me for the poor way I’m handling my grief?”

  His frown gained traction, and I frowned back. We sat there that way for a few minutes, our disapproval for each other mirrored on our faces. Finally, I asked, “Anything else?”

  “No,” he said, clearly unhappy with me.

  I got up and left, considering David’s reaction to me. The old Mac would’ve been upset that I’d stepped out of line and would’ve wanted to correct it. But the new girl couldn’t find the will to care. It was easier to just let everyone’s concern flow off me.