Never Again

by Heather Starsong

  My children pulled up chairs to sit around me. Greg leaned forward and touched my knee. “Tell us what happened the day before yesterday. The whole story. We know you were struck by lightning, thank God not directly. That krum tree on top of the boulder took the direct hit.”

  “But that wasn’t day before yesterday. The krum tree is growing back. That was a year ago. Day before yesterday there were no storms. I dipped in the stream and walked all the way up to its source. It’s so beautiful up there. Then the Elirians came at dusk. I sat with them in their ship and they told me all they had learned in their year here. Then when it was time, they changed me back.”

  My three children stared at me.

  “Mother, I think you’re confused,” Lisa said. “It was only the day before yesterday the lightning struck you. On your birthday.”

  “On my birthday a year ago,” I insisted.

  They looked at each other, then back at me.

  “What are you talking about—the ship, they changed you back. Who?” Greg asked.

  “You know. The Elirians. I told you the whole story a year ago. When you found me at the trailhead. How they healed everything in my body and made me young again. You barely knew me at first, remember? You didn’t recognize me at all, Lisa, when you came at Christmas.” I searched their faces.

  “You don’t remember?” I felt a sinking in the pit of my stomach as I looked at their blank faces. “I was young for a whole year, younger than you. Strong. We went backpacking only a month ago, Greg, just you and I. You took me way high. It was glorious.”

  Greg’s eyes were wide and shocked.

  A shiver passed through me. “You don’t remember?”

  I turned to Robin. “You remember. We went camping with your family. You and I swam way upstream and floated back down. And you met Zachary. Remember meeting Zachary?”

  “Mama, I don’t think you could have swum upstream with me last summer. I don’t know who Zachary is.”

  I started to tremble. “Lisa, you remember. Remember last Christmas when we talked and you said I was incongruent? That was really the turning point, but it took me months to realize I needed to ask them to change me back. Because I met Zachary and…” I trailed off. Lisa clearly didn’t remember either.

  She came and sat on the side of my chair and put her arm around me. “It’s okay, Mother. It sounds as if there’s more of a story than we thought, that we’re not remembering things it’s important that we know. Why don’t you tell us the whole story. Begin with climbing the mountain on your birthday.”

  “My eightieth birthday, or my eighty-first?”

  They looked at each other again. “Your eightieth,” Lisa said.

  Something tickled the back of my mind, but my head ached and I couldn’t grasp it.

  “Tell us.” Robin came to my other side and took my hand. Greg sat facing me, a worried frown creasing his brow.

  I told them, beginning with my eightieth birthday. I told them about the walk up, how hard and slow it had been, the lightning, the dying, the rescue. The Elirians, their radiant fur, their song, the wonder of their ship, their healing touch. “They are beings of perfect love,” I told my children. “You cannot be with them without being changed forever.”

  “What happened then?” Greg asked.

  I continued, telling how I had discovered I was young when I took off my clothes to dip, how I had come down from the mountain and found Greg and Robin looking for me, how I had looked in the mirror and discovered myself to be beautiful with Elirian eyes, all the adventures of the year that followed, the whole affair with Zachary, the point of choice with the garden, the amazing summer in the mountains. They listened with rapt attention, sometimes exclaiming, often exchanging glances with each other.

  “I didn’t tell any of you when I decided to change back because I was afraid you would try to dissuade me. I knew you were glad not to worry about my aging difficulties. But I couldn’t go on that way. I don’t belong in this world anymore. I don’t fit. I couldn’t bear to go on living another whole lifetime, watching you die before me. I was all out of sync with myself. So day before yesterday, on my eighty-first birthday, I went back up to my special place and they met me and folded…”

  Then I understood.

  “What year is it?” I asked.

  My three children were silent, staring at me, then looking at each other.

  “Two thousand eleven,” Greg answered.

  “They folded time,” I whispered. “They put me back in the exact time and place in which they first found me. It was the only way they could change me back. I should have realized. Rosiri explained it to me, how they fold time. That’s how they travel across the universe in no time at all. They folded time. Then they stayed with me and kept me warm so I wouldn’t die. And Kiria gave me a steady heart. And they put the blanket they made out of their fur under my cheek. Greg! You saw the blanket, the silver blanket. Where is it?”

  Greg’s mouth was open. He closed it carefully. “I put it in your pack. Robin brought your pack and boots down.”

  “My staff?”

  “I brought that, too,” Robin answered. “All your stuff is in your house.”

  “What’s the silver blanket?” Lisa asked.

  “They made it for me out of their fur, singing while they wove it. Because I was so cold after they took off my wet clothes. At first they thought my clothes were fur. That first night when they found me. You must believe me now. You held it, Greg.”

  “It was unusual,” Greg said slowly.

  “They were still there when you came. Their ship was right above your heads and they were singing goodbye to me. When the men turned me over I saw their ship up high above the peaks. Then I saw it blink out. They’re gone.”

  I slumped down in the chair, suddenly exhausted, and began to weep. My head pounded.

  “Mother?” Lisa bent over me.

  “I’m tired.”

  “We need to get her back in bed,” Robin said. “Should we call the nurse?”

  “No.” Greg was emphatic. “She’d just come and bother her, checking everything. We can get her back. Come on, Mom.”

  The three of them helped me stand and supported me back to my bed. Once settled, I fell heavily asleep.

  It was dark outside the window, a light on in the room when I woke again. Greg and Lisa and Robin were still there, Greg ensconced in the big chair, Lisa sitting cross-legged at his feet, and Robin in a chair opposite them. They had trays on their laps and there was a smell of food in the room. Another tray was on the table by my bed.

  Robin sighed and set his tray on the floor by his chair. “I just don’t know what to make of her story.”

  “She got struck by lightning,” Greg said. “and had a mind-altering vision. That’s clear. But there’s stuff I can’t figure out. Like how she survived the night, soaked and splatted out on the rock like she was, paralyzed, with temperatures below freezing.”

  “And that blanket,” Robin put in. “I want to have another look at that. I don’t know how she got it under her cheek.”

  “She must have been carrying it when she fell,” Greg said.

  “But it looked like she had her pack in one hand and her boots in the other. They were lying on either side of her. And the blanket was folded up like a pillow.”

  “I don’t know.” Greg shook his head. “It’s clear she totally believes her story, that it really happened. But it couldn’t have. It’s too fantastic. Maybe just her believing those creatures were with her during the night was what kept her alive.”

  “Her eyes are different,” Lisa said. “Bigger and deeper colored and tilted at the corners like she said.”

  “Maybe they just look bigger,” Greg said, “because she’s so pale and her hair is kinda lank, not fluffy around her face like it usually is.”

  Lank, I thought. Ugh.
Do I really still have Elirian eyes? How could that be?

  I stirred in the bed. “Hey.”

  Lisa jumped up. “Mother, you’re awake. How are you?”

  They gathered around me. I investigated. My body still ached all over. The headache was becoming part of me. “Okay,” I said. “Maybe I’m hungry.”

  They helped me sit up and visited with me while I ate, then kissed me good night and left.

  Lisa stopped by early in the morning to say goodbye. Already she had shifted into her on-the-go mode.

  “You’re looking better, Mother.” She set a bundle on my bed. “I brought your bathrobe and toilet articles and the books that were on your bedside table. I hate to leave you, but there’re only three more days to my class and I don’t know what my assistant’s been doing in my absence.”

  “Thank you so much for coming,” was all I could say. I didn’t want her to hear the sorrow I felt at having her flit away again.

  “You’re going to be fine,” she said briskly. “The doctor says that if you can get up and move around today, you may be able to go home tomorrow. Greg will stay and take care of you your first few days home, and after that Robin will look in on you.”

  She bent and kissed me. “I love you, Mother dear. Goodbye.” Then she was gone. Brief, beautiful butterfly in my life.

  A crisp young nurse came in and helped me get up.

  “Would you like to take a shower?”

  “Yes. Thank you,” I said gratefully. I hadn’t been wet all over since my last dip in the stream. It was only two days ago, but it felt like a millennium. The nurse brought me a walker and accompanied me to the bathroom. After my shower, I assured her I could get back to bed okay, and she left.

  The mirror was clouded with steam. I used my towel to wipe it off and looked in.

  Through the streaks of moisture that still blurred the reflection, an old woman looked out. Relief flooded me. “There you are,” I said softly.

  My white hair, still wet, clung thinly to my head. The wrinkles were back, the moles, the long cords standing out in the front of my throat, the cheeks sagging around the jaw line, the sun-damage freckles all over my chest and shoulders. An added attraction—a bluish lump on my right temple, partly covered with a white bandage.

  In the midst of it all, my eyes were still Elirian eyes, large in my pale face, deep blue-green-gray, slightly tilted at the corners. I looked into their depths and felt Elirian love enfold me. They marked me, I thought in wonder, in spite of the fold in time. Every time I see my reflection I will remember them.

  My breasts hung. The mirror didn’t show me the rest, but I could feel with my hands the soft sag of my belly, the long indentation of the scar on my hip.

  I looked back at my face and sighed, a long, deep sigh of welcome and recognition. Then I picked up my comb and began to coax my wet hair into what I hoped would be wispy curls when it dried.

  Toward mid-morning a physical therapist came and led me through some exercises to awaken my arms and legs. It helped. They still ached, but not so badly, and it was good to get them moving again. When we finished, she suggested I take a walk down the corridor using the walker for balance. That sounded exciting. I put my green silk bathrobe on over the hospital gown and ventured out.

  Halfway down the hall I met a man coming toward me, bent over, leaning heavily on his walker. We nodded and smiled at each other as we passed, sharing a moment of walker camaraderie. I went on around several turns in the corridor. On my way back to my room, I saw him again, sitting in one of a row of chairs opposite the nurses’ station. He was short and stocky, bald but for an unruly fringe of white hair around his ears. His eyebrows, as if to make up for the lack of hair on his head, were wild and wiry, mixed black and white. He wore a worn blue terrycloth robe and slumped in the chair, looking tired. He straightened a little when he saw me and looked up at me with bright hazel eyes under his inimitable eyebrows.

  “Hey, there, pretty lady. That’s an elegant robe you’re wearing.”

  I liked his smile. “Thank you,” I replied. “It’s good to have something to cover those rear-view gowns they give us here.”

  He chuckled and patted the chair next to him. “Would you like to sit a minute, take a load off your walker?”

  “Sure.” I sat down beside him.

  He held out his hand. “Lenny.” His clasp was warm and strong.

  “Clara.”

  “Good to meet you, Clara. How did you come to stay in this elegant hotel?”

  “I was taking a hike in the high country, got caught by a storm and hit by lightning. Not a direct hit, fortunately, but it knocked me over and left me paralyzed for a while. The mountain rescue team brought me down day before yesterday.”

  “I see you’re moving now.”

  “Yes. Thank goodness. How about you?”

  He tapped the left side of his chest. “Heart attack.”

  “Oh. Did you have to have surgery?”

  “Yup.” He pulled his robe open and showed me the long red incision on his chest. “They got me all bypassed and fixed up and say the old ticker should last a while longer.”

  “That’s good. They’re telling me I should be okay, too. I may even be able to go home tomorrow.”

  “You like to hike in the high country, do you? Where were you?”

  “Up above Sapphire Lake.”

  “That’s real pretty up there. I like to hike, too, but I haven’t been that high for a long time. Lightning, huh. Whew. Looks like you got a knock on the head, too.”

  “That happened when I fell.”

  “How are you feeling now?”

  “Better. I still have a headache and my limbs feel kind of clumsy, but I’m so grateful I can move again. Being paralyzed was scary.”

  “I bet. But you’re moving well now. I was watching you coming down the hall, standing so straight, not all bent over like the rest of us do with our walkers.”

  He smiled at me again, cocked his head, and raised his left eyebrow. I almost laughed at the comical effect of all that wiry hair taking off at an angle. I managed to contain my amusement to a smile.

  “How are you doing? When was your surgery?”

  “A week ago. I’m doing okay. Weak. It frustrates me to be so weak. They’re sending me off to rehab, tomorrow probably. The doctor is going to check on me today and decide.”

  The crisp young nurse came up to us. She nodded to me and turned to Lenny. “Mr. Barrett, you need to come back to your room now. Dr. Walton is here to see you.”

  “Speak of the devil,” Lenny said. He pulled himself up slowly onto his walker. “Nice chatting with you, Clara.” He started down the hall, then turned back. “Stop by and see me the next time you’re meandering the corridors. I’m in room 204.”

  “I will.” I watched him go, suppressing a giggle at the way he’d spaced out his syllables when he said “meandering.” I made my way back to my room and rested. So easily tired.

  In the late afternoon I took another walk down the corridor. Greg had come to visit and brought me the cane I used after my hip replacement, and I wanted to try it out. My legs were doing better. I walked along, getting into the swing of it. The doctor had told me I could go home the next day. I was looking forward to it. Also curious. Would all the work I had done in the house and garden during the fold in time still be there? Or would everything be in the neglected state I had left behind when I climbed the mountain so slowly on my eightieth birthday?

  I was thinking about this when I noticed the room I was passing was number 204. The door was open. I stopped and looked in. Lenny was sitting in his easy chair reading, glasses with leopard-print frames perched on his nose.

  “Lenny?”

  He looked up, pulled off his glasses, and smiled widely. “Clara! Come on in. Sit down. Look at you wheeling around with only a cane.”

 
; “My son brought it to me. It’s a lot freer than the walker, and still helps with my balance.” I went into his room, pulled up a chair, and sat opposite him. “How’s your day been?”

  “Okay. I’ve been lazy, snoozing and reading. They’re sending me to rehab tomorrow and the doc tells me they’ll work my ass off, so I thought I’d better take advantage while I could. Hey, I’m real glad you dropped in.” He set his book and glasses aside and beamed at me. “What’ve you been doing today?”

  “Resting, mostly. I had a long visit with my son, Greg. And my doctor came by and said I can go home tomorrow.”

  “I bet you’re glad. Do you live alone?”

  “I do. Greg will stay with me a few days until I can get organized enough to take care of myself. After that my younger son, who lives nearby, will stop in and check on me. I’ll be okay.”

  “Your head still hurt?”

  “Yes. But that’s how it will be for a while, I guess. There was the lightning strike and the concussion as well as this beautiful lump.” I touched my right brow.

  “Who are you going to whine to, living all alone, when your head hurts and the going gets rough?”

  I laughed. “Mostly I try to whine only to my journal. I don’t like my kids to worry.”

  “That’s not good enough. Your journal doesn’t commiserate. Tell you what. I’m going to be living alone, too, when I get home. How about I call you up every so often, or you call me, and you can whine to me and I’ll whine to you, and then we can talk about other things. You look like an interesting person who’d be fun to talk to. We can check in on each other. How about it?” He raised his left eyebrow and looked at me questioningly.

  I tilted my head and considered. It could be nice to have someone to whine to. Lenny had a warm energy. “Sounds like a good deal,” I answered. “A telephone shoulder to whine on.”

  “Great. That’s settled.” He pulled himself up out of his chair and took a few steps to his night table, fumbled in the drawer, and handed me his card.

  My mouth fell open. I looked up at him. “Certified Curmudgeon?”