Speechless, Amara scanned the boy head to toe. Looking back at her portrait, she found an unsteady voice.
“I’m sorry, where did you get this picture?”
The boy replied simply, “I made it, just like the rest of them.” He motioned broadly to the surrounding portraits in his collection.
“But how did you make one of me? I’ve never met you before,” Amara pressed. This wasn’t making any sense to her.
“Oh, yeah, I can see how that would seem odd,” the boy acknowledged calmly.
She gave him a quizzical look, inviting him to elaborate. Before he could continue, however, a tall, sturdy man in a flannel jacket stepped into the conversation. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice caught as he noticed Amara, then the picture behind her. The man glanced curiously down at the boy, whom Amara now assumed to be his son.
“X,” the man said, “who is this?”
“I just met her.” X turned to Amara. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask your name.”
“Amara,” she responded quietly.
The boy extended his hand stiffly.
“Nice to meet you. My name is Henry, but everyone calls me X.”
Amara felt the blood draining from her face. She heard the boy’s father suck in a sharp breath.
“And this is my dad,” X said.
The man stood motionless for a few seconds, wide-eyed, before he eventually extended his hand. “Nathan,” he said finally.
Amara shook both their hands weakly. She thought she might pass out.
“Your name is Henry?” she gawked. “I don’t believe it.”
She could feel the man staring at her intently.
The boy, Henry, on the other hand, was unaffected by her awkwardness. “You just moved here, right?” he asked.
Bewildered, Amara replied, “Yes, I did.”
X ignored her bewildered tone and continued. “Well, if you need some new friends, maybe you’d like to have dinner with us.”
Again, Amara and Nathan stared at him in awe. Amara found this boy beyond her comprehension. As a matter of fact, the whole scene felt like she had suddenly walked on stage during a play, one in which everyone knew their lines except her. As confusing as it all was, Amara couldn’t deny that the pair standing before her were captivating, a mystery she deeply wanted to solve. It had been a long time since anyone sparked her curiosity. In a flash of uncharacteristic spontaneity, Amara turned to the boy and nodded.
“Actually, I am really hungry,” she said. “Where should we eat?”
*34*
Nathan was at a loss. His son, the boy who was constantly described by his teachers as reserved, shy, and even “peculiar,” had just befriended a random stranger. Not only that, but he had even used his real name, something Nathan hadn’t heard him do in over a year.
Then there was the matter of his curiously accurate portrait. Nathan realized long ago that his son was observant, possibly even intuitively inclined, but the woman’s reaction had confirmed that she and X had never met before. This begged the question: How did he make that painting? Coincidently, that picture was Nathan’s favorite of his son’s countless portraits, a fact that only added more confusion to the situation.
The trio ventured only so far as the Mexican-style restaurant next door to the gallery for their impromptu meal. Seated around a small, square table in the corner, Nathan found himself studying Amara. Apparently cured of his uncharacteristic extroversion, X resumed his usual behavior of observing the various people in the room.
Amara broke the silence only after the waiter approached their table. Addressing Nathan, she nervously asked, “Do you mind if I order a drink? I could definitely use one.”
Nathan nodded.
“Would you like one?” she followed politely.
“Oh, uh … no thanks, I better not,” he said tensely. By now, Nathan had enough self-control to regulate himself to one single drink in the evening after X went to bed. As much as he wanted to now, Nathan considered the gravity of his internal conflictions at the moment and opted to abstain.
After placing their orders, the table fell silent again. Nathan fought against his curiosity, which led only to brief moments of awkward eye contact when his gaze accidently drifted in her direction.
Steadying his nerves, Nathan asked casually, “So, what brings you to town?”
“A job.”
“What kind of job?”
“I’m a nurse. I just got hired at the birthing center in town.”
“Hmm … that’s tough work,” Nathan observed.
Amara nodded, smiling softly.
“And how do you like it here so far?”
“Oh, well, I actually lived here before, in college. I always found it to be such a beautiful and unique city. As soon as I saw it, I knew I wanted to settle here, buy a house outside of town and all. I just … some things happened that drew me back to Seattle for a while. That’s where I’m from, you know.”
Silence fell over the table again. X entertained himself by watching the waiter revolve in and out of the kitchen. After a few long minutes, the waiter finally bounced over to their table with the food.
Amara took a long sip from her margarita. Boldly, she blurted, “I’m sorry, I just don’t get what we’re doing here. This whole situation is … honestly it’s insane, and I still can’t understand how my picture ended up on the wall in your son’s art gallery.”
"It’s not my gallery,” X corrected, “just the art.” He returned casually to his food.
Nathan shot him a warning glance.
“Okay, fine. But how did you get my picture?” inquired Amara.
X took a big bite of chicken, chewing slowly as he watched a couple passing on the sidewalk outside of the window.
Nathan was forced to reply in his stead.
“Honestly, I’m not really sure. He has always been, umm, observant.” Nathan tossed a weak shrug toward his son. “All I can really say is that he has a knack for seeing people.”
This response seemed surprisingly acceptable to the stranger across the table, who relaxed slightly into her chair.
“And what about you?” she asked, turning her deep brown eyes to Nathan.
“What about me?”
“How well do you ‘see people?’” she asked bluntly. Her cheeks were beginning to flush.
Nathan was caught off guard.
“Not very well,” he admitted, “but I think I’m getting better at it.” He squared his shoulders and held her gaze.
She squinted quizzically. “Interesting. Why don’t we practice then?” she offered.
Nathan tried to match her confidence. “Okay, how do we do that?”
“Tell me what you ‘see’ when you look at me,” said Amara.
Nathan wasn’t sure he wanted to play this game. He wiped his palms on his pants under the table. Leveling his stare, Nathan tried to study her face, but all he could focus on was her charmingly quizzical grin. He closed his eyes instead.
“How are you going to see me with your eyes closed?” she challenged.
X grinned faintly in the corner.
“Don’t question my methods,” Nathan chided playfully. The sudden light-heartedness of their banter was refreshing.
Behind his eyelids, her round face emerged slowly from the blackness. Soft lines swirled outwardly from her long hair, like ink dropped into a glass of water. Her brown eyes were heavy with sadness, sunken under a sturdy brow. A gleam of light reflected off the center of her pupils, a beacon in the darkness. Nathan’s eyes snapped open to find Amara looking at him expectantly.
“I see hope,” he said simply.
Nathan started to say more, but in truth, that was all that had come to him. Worried that he’d spoken too boldly, his eyes quickly retreated to the plate in front of him. After a long silence, Nathan ventured a glance back up at the curious woman.
Amara graced him with a warm smile before breaking her gaze.
*35*
Lying on the hardwo
od floor of her apartment, Amara stretched out into the small square of daylight beaming through the window. The cold wood planks beneath grounded her body while her mind wandered. A week had passed since Amara’s fated encounter with Nathan and his son. The meeting had been unexpected, to say the least, and she still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the pair. The boy, quite honestly, was strange, but she enjoyed his frankness, and Amara held a particular level of respect for people who challenged her preconceptions.
His father, in some ways, was even more challenging to read. He moved comfortably in his own space, but a tinge of insecurity emerged when she had tested his boundaries. His wholesome acceptance of his son’s eccentricities was admirable. Beyond that, Amara couldn’t deny her physical attractions to him; his sturdy shoulders and crooked smile stirred feelings in her that she had long ago assumed to have withered into disrepair. These feelings were, surprisingly, even more disconcerting than the young boy’s uncanny resemblance to his namesake.
Together, the duo sent Amara’s mind spiraling into chaos.
Since she had nothing better to do with her day off, Amara lounged on the floor for a long while, stretching and flexing her limbs as she consciously drew air deeply into her chest. The air expanded inside her, finding its way to the most secret spaces of her heart. She allowed her mind to wander farther. Predictably, her thoughts found their way to Henry. Guilt sank over her as she realized she hadn’t even been to see him since returning to town. Was that healing or forgetting? She wasn’t entirely sure there was a difference between the two.
Rising slowly, Amara walked to her bed and pulled a box from underneath the frame. Inside, she dug through a collection of books until she found her journal. The finish on the corners was starting to peel from wear. A faint purple color stained the edges of the paper from an unfortunate incident with a tipsy glass of wine. Carefully, Amara opened the journal to an empty page and smoothed the binding. Positioning her pen on the page, she paused.
Ten minutes passed, and nothing came out.
She put the pen down and flipped to her previous entries. The last two letters were dated exactly a year apart, on Henry’s birthday, each containing similar sentiments of unrequited yearning. Her stomach clenched tightly as she reread the words. Page after page, the book was filled with her sorrows and exasperated misery. Though the underlying currents of love were powerful and real, some of the lines appeared to her now as bordering on the melodramatic. She nearly laughed at the depths to which her depression had descended – not because it was ridiculous, but because she realized in that moment that those feelings no longer held the same convictions in her heart that they once did. While she recognized and even sympathized with her anguish, it no longer defined her entire existence.
Returning to the blank page, Amara poised the pen on the page and wrote simply:
I will always love you.
She stared at those five words for a long while, reminiscing on their meaning. The utterance was so simple and yet so vast. She fought a momentary urge to rip the whole page from its binding but checked her more destructive impulses.
Leaving the journal open on her bed, Amara wandered into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of cold water before settling onto the couch. The cloudy sky parted to relinquish a burst of light that filtered through the window onto her forehead. Particles of dust air around her vibrated in the brightness, surrounding her in an energetic warmth. She basked in the purifying light until every last beam was gently absorbed back into the gray sky.
Inhaling deeply a few times, she prepared herself for the task ahead. She reached for the phone on the end table, pulled it off the charger, and began scrolling until she found Nathan’s number. She dialed. The phone only rang once before a deep voice answered on the other end.
“Hi,” came a warm greeting through the receiver.
“Hey, it’s Amara,” she said nervously, instantly rolling her eyes at her own silliness. Of course he knew who it was. She had personally typed her name and number into his phone before leaving the restaurant.
“Yeah I know,” he responded lightly. “I saved your number. How are you?”
“I’m doing really well, actually. Listen, I was wondering if you would like to get together again. Turns out I really could use some friends around here.”
“I’d love to,” Nathan quickly replied. “X and I were going to go to a science exhibit next weekend, if you’d like to join us. That is, if it’s not too childish for you.”
“That sounds great, I love science!” Amara burst.
Nathan laughed enthusiastically. “Great!” he exclaimed. “It’s a date.”
*36*
Nathan spotted Amara walking toward them from a few blocks away, long before she noticed them waiting in the pick-up truck parked on the curb. X reclined in the passenger seat with his nose buried deep in a comic that he was rereading for the thousandth time. His cane rested against the console between them.
Nathan watched as Amara strolled gracefully down the sidewalk, slyly observing each person on the street with a neutral expression. Passing the alley, however, her mouth softened as she paused to watch a small, scruffy cat sniffing behind the dumpster. She stopped momentarily to assess the severity of the animal’s state, surveying her surroundings for anything she could offer as food to the creature. Unable to find anything feline-friendly, Amara reluctantly left the animal to its foraging and continued along down the sidewalk. She reflexively checked her watch and quickened her pace.
Nathan chuckled to himself as he watched the process unfold.
“You’re better at reading people than you think, Dad,” X said abruptly, startling Nathan out of his thoughts.
“I thought you were reading,” replied Nathan defensively before opening the car door.
Nathan stepped down onto the sidewalk to greet Amara as she approached the truck. He leaned in slightly to initiate a hug but lost his nerve and settled for a wave instead. Trying to hide his embarrassment, Nathan turned quickly back to the vehicle and shoved his head into the passenger-side, fidgeting to release X’s seatbelt.
X, quiet as usual, slid out of his seat and onto the curb beside Nathan.
Nervously, Nathan led the party through the front door of the building.
The learning center was set up in the corner lot among a row of small storefronts. Inside, the room was packed with interactive displays, machinery, and art installations of varying sizes and complexity. Children hopped through the exhibits, pushing, pulling, and fiddling various controls as they explored. A young girl, barely old enough to walk, peered through a small window into a wooden box. She cranked the lever and giggled gleefully as colorful lights swirled in a kaleidoscopic display.
X assessed the scene cautiously, hiding the full degree of his interest until he deemed the level of enthusiasm in the room to be to his satisfaction. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, X ventured off slowly to experiment with a recording device at the nearest station.
Nathan and Amara followed close behind. The machine was simply made, consisting of an old phone receiver wired to a box with four round buttons displayed on the face. Each button manipulated a different aspect of the person’s voice as they spoke into the phone.
X picked up the receiver, speaking in a slow, controlled tone into the recorder.
“Man is nothing without the power to feel,” he said commandingly into the phone. Pushing various buttons, he then played the recording in reverse, creating intriguing new patterns from his originally monotonous tone.
Nathan glanced at Amara from the corner of his eye, watching for her reaction to his son’s monologue. He expected her to be wary of his peculiarities.
Instead, Amara laughed quietly before joining X at the table.
“Super-humans, assemble!” she said into the microphone, surprising both Nathan and X with her comic knowledge and playfulness.
“Hey!” X said enthusiastically, “you know The New World League!”
�
�Well, not personally,” Amara admitted, “but I’ve heard of them.”
X smiled in delight. “That’s where I got my name,” he said proudly.
“Like Major Xtra, right? Is that where you get your super-sensitivity from, too?”
X blushed. “Maybe,” he said bashfully. “My dad has powers too, you know.”
“Oh really?” asked Amara.
Now it was Nathan’s turn to blush.
“You’ve never told me that before,” said Nathan.
“I thought you knew,” X replied innocently. Turning to Amara he asked, “Do you want to know what it is?”
“If it’s okay with him,” Amara responded, looking at Nathan for approval.
Nathan shrugged his consent.
X leaned in seriously, dropping his voice to a whisper. “He’s a shapeshifter.”
Nathan snorted loudly. He assumed his son would say something like, “He can fly,” or, “He’s really strong” – the typical superpowers kids dream about. Though he was surprised by his son’s reading, Nathan didn’t entirely disagree with the sentiment. Over the years, he had changed both inside and out. Whether that was a natural consequence of growing up or a fantastical superpower, Nathan didn’t know. He would leave that for his son to decide. Nathan nervously searched Amara’s face for a reaction.
She flashed the same curious look as she had at the restaurant, squinting her eyes as she assessed the validity of X’s statement. Her nose scrunched slightly to the left as she contemplated. Scanning Nathan up and down, she nodded faintly in understanding.
X giggled lightly.
They wandered leisurely through the other displays until they arrived at the final exhibit, the newest installation and main attraction. The structure was easily the largest in the room, with two large, plastic semi-circles balanced on their edges to create a pair of concave windows. The surface of the plastic was textured with countless small mirrors, fitted elaborately together in a tight-knit pattern. A thin, elongated insect-like body hung from the ceiling above, sprouting four long, horizontal wings from the abdomen. Standing behind the windows, one had the sense of observing the world through the eyes of an insect, with hundreds of little reflections repeating from slightly varying angles.
Life After Death: A Story of Love, Loss, and Living Page 15