by Eden Winter
To be honest, I was also surprised he invited me out again at all. I was sure he was upset with me about the lake. Or maybe he was frustrated in a general sense. Either way, wanting to see him outweighed the potential anxiety that I was no doubt going to feel being around Delilah and Baylee.
I wished my dad had never told me about my great grandmother. No… that was a lie. I was grateful for the truth, but I could have done without him including the little fact that it was possible Peter was going to play an important role in my life. I wanted to just let it happen. And if it wasn’t supposed to happen, I wanted to be able to be strong enough to walk away or let him walk away. Whatever the case might be, I wanted my friendship or relationship with another person to be organic.
The realization of an existence that was premeditated from womb to tomb was enough to make one depressed. And that was another reason I agreed to go out that night—the more distractions, the better.
I wasn’t expecting to be invited to an evening at a club. Peter said to dress nicely but “nothing too formal”. I went with navy blue leggings, a white blouse, and simple silver sandals. If I’d known it was a bar or a club, I would have tried to dress a bit sexier. I wasn’t self-conscious, but I didn’t like the idea of standing out or seeming out of place. The other people there were in short-shorts or fashionably tight dresses and heels or boots. I looked like I had been invited to brunch by an aunt, but I tried not to think of it.
Philomena was in a long lace dress—which I was starting to realize was just her thing—and boots. She stood out, but she wore her clothes with such confidence that it worked. People were still looking at her. Her dress was long-sleeved and had a high neck. Her hair was long, thin, and straight. It was a deep shade of blue that was a mix between the navy of my leggings and the blue-grey color of Reginald’s skin.
Baylee was wearing shorts that barely covered anything and a crop top. It was strange seeing her without a hat. The dark brown streak in her light-colored hair looked cool and striking. Delilah was wearing the tightest and shortest dress I had ever seen on a person. It was a black dress, which was a nice contrast against her bubblegum pink skin. I was almost jealous that everyone was dolled up.
The guys looked nice too. Reginald’s piercings were all black, which made the tribal markings that snaked up his neck and onto his face stand out. He had shaved the sides of his head so only the hair in the middle remained. It was a black metallic color like liquid lead. It was obvious that on certain days he planned on having his hair up in a mohawk, but tonight it was brushed to the front, and some of it fell in his face. It worked for him. I had a feeling that not many people could pull that off. He had on a red jacket with a black shirt, black jeans, and shoes with black and red checks. His style was so different from Philomena’s, and for some reason, that made them look even more beautiful as a couple when they stood up next to one another.
Peter was wearing all white. He looked like he was getting ready to teach a Kundalini class. It was all cotton and loose fitting, but it was perfect on him. It was like he wasn’t even trying to be attractive, but the lack of trying made him just that. His hair was in a bun, and he hadn’t shaved in a while. The stubble on his face made him look more mature, especially with his chiseled jaw and perpetually serious expression.
Joining us for the evening was Reginald’s cousin Eli. He was the color of slate with unique bronze tribal marks over his body. His ears were stretched, but aside from that, he looked very dapper. His clothes fit in all the right places. His hair was the same color as his tribal markings, but it was gelled away from his face to show his eyes. One of his eyes was a deep blue while the other was light. There was something very attractive about him I might have liked a few years ago. Something about a charming-looking person with a tint of bad boy seemed to be just my type, but I was steering clear of men like that.
“You look nice,” Peter lied. The music was very loud, but I still managed to hear him a bit. I didn’t mind the lie—at least I assumed it was a lie. I didn’t doubt I looked nice, but what I was wearing wasn’t quite club acceptable. I tried not to let it show.
“So do you. You look very well put together,” I replied. I stumbled on my words and made a face. I was going to have to get used to talking to people again. Even with what my father had told me, I knew there was a chance someone being important in my life didn’t mean that person would be important forever. Peter could have been the key that led me to unlock my powers and nothing more. There was no need to get ahead of myself when most of the things that had happened in the last month were new experiences for me.
“Thank you, Sam,” he said.
Eli knew the owner of the club and got us into a VIP section that was a bit quieter. The club was split into different sections. There was the main dancefloor with a VIP section overlooking it with a bar in the far corner, and then there was the lounge. The lounge was only one room away, but it had better lighting, another bar, and the music wasn’t so intense. There were chairs and a small curtain that separated the lounge from a small room with an L-shaped black leather couch. That small section in the lounge was where we were all spending time. Baylee was the only one in the main dark part of the club dancing up a storm. I didn’t think she was someone I would ever be able to figure out.
I was by the bar when Peter joined me. The others were on the leather couches in the little side room. I ordered an alcohol-free drink and stood awkwardly by the bar. There must have been etiquette about these things, but I couldn’t remember. Why was it so hard to go back to normal? If I knew them well enough, it was nice to wait for someone who was ordering drinks and at least walk back together. But now I was wracking my brain for something funny or clever to say. My mind was a disaster. I didn’t know what to say or what side of myself I should show.
“Are you okay?” Peter had a worried look on his face. He had two drinks in his hands. One was clear with a leaf inside it, and the other was a deep orange on the bottom that was only lighter at the top because of all of the ice cubes.
I replied with a nod of my head.
“I was just waiting for you.”
That made Peter smile. He never smiled in a way that revealed his teeth which was so strange to me, but I didn’t mind because I loved the way the whites of his eyes disappeared when his eyes scrunched up. It was so nice to me, because with the playfulness of his smile, all of that hard-chiseled maturity went out the window. He looked young and fresh and approachable. I wished he would smile more often. It was when he was being too serious that it made me all the more anxious.
We walked back to our friends—well, his friends—and sat down beside each other. Delilah was sitting at the end of everyone else, and I’m sure she planned it that way. I made sure to wait for Peter to sit beside her before sitting down myself. Peter gave Delilah the orange drink and took a sip of the clear drink.
“What are you having?” I asked.
“Would you believe me if I said it was water?” Peter said. He smirked and took a sip.
“No way. That’s way too fancy. What’s that leaf then?”
“It’s some kind of mint.”
“Pffff,” I scoffed and put my drink down on the table in front of us. I reached over to try to take his drink, but he turned away from me and started giggling. He kept taking sips from the tiny swizzle stick still in the glass. His face was totally scrunched up so that his drink wouldn’t trickle or spurt out of his mouth.
This was strange, but also so welcome. It was such a nice feeling to be like my old self, but I also wasn’t expecting Peter to be so playful. It was safe to say that when it came to him, I shouldn’t have judged him by his scowl or even his seemingly unfriendly face after I had fallen into the lake.
Peter turned around and handed me his drink so I would stop pestering him. Sure enough, it was water.
“Are you convinced now?” he asked when I gave him his drink back. He stirred the ice with his swizzle stick, which for some reason made me laugh. There
was nothing to stir or dilute; it was simply frozen water and regular water.
I did my best to avoid Delilah. She was talking to Philomena, Reginald, and Eli. I don’t know why I didn’t want to get under her skin or why I felt like I needed to shrink myself so she that could shine and not be threatened by me. It couldn’t be up to her or even up to me who Peter wanted to talk to or spend time with.
“So, you get a sip of my drink, but I can’t sip yours? That doesn’t seem very fair,” Peter said. His face was back to its chiseled and naturally serious expression. I was grateful that I was able to see beyond that.
“It’s something with cranberries—not too sweet, and there’s no alcohol.”
“Not a big drinker?” he asked. He leaned forward onto the edge of the leather chair and made a gesture as if to ask if it was okay for him to pick my drink up from the table. I nodded at him to let him know that it was all right. He picked it up, took a small sip, weighed the taste over in his mind and frowned in the ‘it’s okay’ way before setting the drink back down on the table and sliding back into the leather seat.
“I haven’t had any alcohol in about a year.”
“Why is that?” Peter said.
I shrugged as a reply. I didn’t want to go into too many details as to why I stopped drinking.
“Understood. It’s okay if you’re not comfortable talking about it. I never liked to drink. I always want to have a clear mind, and I always want to be focused when I’m in the kitchen.”
“I admire your self-control and your maturity.” Delilah had turned around from her conversation and was now facing us. She was smiling at Peter.
“Thanks, D,” Peter said. He smirked at her and leaned back far enough so that he could pay attention to the people on either side of him. He clinked glasses with Delilah and drank the rest of his water. I wasn’t sure what to say to Delilah.
“You look really nice, Delilah,” I said.
“Thanks. You too,” she said. She smiled. It wasn’t a warm smile, but it was better than the other looks she had been giving me. I smiled back. I was wracking my brain in search of something else to say when I started to become dizzy. It was nowhere near as intense as the first time. My dad was right about not having to experience the pain for too long. Did that mean I was closer to controlling the visions? I didn’t remember asking him if it was something you could control at all. Thinking about this was a good distraction from the slightly woozy feeling I was experiencing.
I wasn’t thrust into a vision. There was nothing around me. I simply stared into space for a few moments and gripped onto the arm of the couch. When my mind was clearer, I was going to have to figure out why some of the dizzy spells came with premonitions and why others just made me queasy.
“Are you feeling okay?” Peter asked just as I was beginning to feel normal.
“Yes. I just… I just need some fresh air.” I stood up. I was suddenly feeling claustrophobic in this part of the club.
“Do you need someone to go with you?” Peter asked.
“Only if you don’t mind,” I said. Peter was already getting on his feet.
“I don’t,” he said when he had gotten close. He placed a hand on the small of my back and took me by the hand with the other. I didn’t need that much help to walk, but I knew I wasn’t going to say anything about it. I moved my head away from him so he couldn’t see I was blushing.
“Is everything okay?” Philomena was standing up and heading toward us.
“I’m feeling a little bit lightheaded is all.”
“Yeah, I’m going to take Samantha outside to get some fresh air,” Peter said.
“You should go to a doctor if it’s something that’s chronic,” she said.
“Oh, wait!” she perked up, “Eli… Eli, come take a look at this.”
Eli stood up from the couch. I groaned. I didn’t want a repeat of the last time. The last thing I wanted was to be the center attention and the person perpetually in crisis when I was around these people. And how would I explain constantly fainting or needing to be rescued?
“Samantha’s not feeling too well. She fainted a few weeks ago, and now she’s… What is it?” Philomena asked. Even over the dull music that was pumping through the club she sounded like a sexy cat.
“I think it’s just vertigo. My immune system is a bit off. It’s nothing, really,” I said. Both Eli and Reginald had gotten up from the couch to check up on me, and Peter was still holding onto me.
“Has anything else happened? Do you have other symptoms?” Eli asked.
“Not any symptoms that I’ve noticed, no. I should be fine once I spend a bit of time outside. I don’t think being in a confined space like this is doing me any good,” I replied. Eli didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded.
“If this happens again, please go see a doctor. I don’t think it’s anything serious, but the fact that this has happened before might mean something. My best advice would be for you to check it out, just in case,” Eli said.
“I will. Thank you so much,” I said. I did in fact sound grateful. Having relative strangers care enough about me to pause their fun wasn’t something my old friends did. Why was I ever friends with those people to begin with? Growing so much over a short period of time put a lot in perspective.
Peter led me outside the club. We didn’t say anything, but we did pass Baylee. She was dancing with another pixie girl whose wings were spread out wide and fluttering to the beat of the music. Baylee had a whistle in her mouth and a long wand that was glowing from the tip. She waved at us and went back to dancing.
I felt much better once I took in the fresh air outside. I didn’t miss clubbing, but I didn’t mind who I was with tonight. I inhaled and opened my mouth in an O shape for a long exhale.
“Feeling any better?” Peter asked. He had that suspicious look on his face again. It was the look he gave me when he saved me from almost drowning.
“A bit. Nothing’s spinning,” I said. I looked around us. There were a few people in a parking lot. Some of them looked drunk and they were horsing around and laughing. There was a group of pixie boys who wore matching outfits that were all different colors. They were playing around with light-up wands and what looked like bottles of potions. These guys were definitely drunk. I imagined myself about a year and a half ago. I probably would have asked to join them.
“You sure you don’t want to get yourself checked out?” Peter asked. He let go of me, and I could feel my back and arm get a bit cooler because of the absence of his touch. I was keeping a close eye on the pixies on the other side of the parking lot. My intuition was telling me they were bad news.
“I should be okay, really. Peter, you don’t need to worry about me,” I replied.
“Can’t help it. Ever since my mom passed away, I’ve always been extra sensitive to anyone who falls ill. Just take care of yourself,” he said.
“I will. I promise,” I said.
“And promise if this happens again or gets worse, you’ll go and see a doctor, or at the very least give Eli a call.”
I looked him in the eyes. I was expecting something. What it was I was meant to expect, I wasn’t sure of yet. I was waiting for a switch in demeanor, for Peter to become Alex, for all the care and the worry to turn into gaslighting and verbal abuse.
“I can take care of myself,” I muttered. It sounded like I was snapping at him, when I was just angry at a memory. Peter didn’t say anything, but he lowered his head and pretended to be interested in something on the ground.
My reaction to him wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to him because he wasn’t Alex, and I shouldn’t have any expectations of his nature based on my past. But it also wasn’t fair to me. I was denying myself a lot of new connections because of what had happened to me. My progression would be a slow one, but I needed to be mindful about my energy as well as how the people around me were. I wouldn’t fall into another trap of flighty friends and selfish partners.
“You’re always so far away when
we talk, Samantha,” Peter said. He was right. If my mind hadn’t drifted off into a memory, I was weighing every second of every interaction I had. I needed to relax. I needed to let go.
“Will you dance with me?” I said. Peter jerked his head back and gave me a befuddled look.
“What?”
“I can still hear a bit of the music inside. I’m feeling much better, but I don’t think I want to go back inside for now. So…” I walked further out into the parking lot where there were no cars parked. I turned to face him and held out my hand. It wasn’t a slow song, but there was still something so intimate about the rhythm.
Peter tried to hide a smile by wiping his fingers along the stubble that was his mustache and down to his beard. He gave in and placed his hand on mine, and I pulled him close.
“Oooooh!” One of the pixies cooed over at us. The others started to laugh, as if this awkward display of affection was the funniest thing they had ever seen. I was embarrassed and I knew my peach colored skin was getting redder. I was prepared to pull away, but Peter gripped me a little tighter and pulled me close.
“Who cares what they think?” he said. He was right, of course. It only mattered what I thought in the moment, and I was the one who had invited him to dance with me.
The song that was playing inside had stopped. Peter and I were moving back and forth in the silence. It was no longer as intimate as I would have liked now that there was no music to accompany our dancing.
The two of us stopped moving and gazed into each other’s’ eyes. I tried not to show my emotions on my face. I did my best to read his expression but keep mine as blank as possible. It was obvious he was doing the same thing. I couldn’t tell where his mind was going, and I wanted to know what he was feeling in that exact moment.