Descendant

by LJ Amodeo

  “It’s true. Dreams are messages, some good and some are warnings.”

  I contemplated the idea of Sam being the vice she presented herself to be in my nightmares. In the likes of my late grandmother Anne, had those in my life presented themselves for whom they really were in my dreams? Did I truly have the ability to see what lay beneath their flesh? Was this a gift or a curse? The idea was ridiculous.

  “Warn us? About what? The coming of the adversary.” My father’s words spilled instinctively from my lips. A chill ran up my spine, as I spoke those lucid words from years ago, that continued to fester in the depths of my mind.

  “What did you just say?” his face turned stone cold, as he stared shockingly at me.

  I turned to face him quickly avoiding his question. “I hate to bring this up again, but why don’t you like Sam?” I asked.

  “Let me rephrase that. What is it that you don’ttrust about her?” I emphasized the word trust.

  “Just a feeling. I have my suspicions about her. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know she is no friend to you, Elizabeth. She’s more of a . . . like you mentioned, an adversary to us.” He remarked nervously. I cocked my head, unsure of what he meant byus. He insisted she was not a good friend to me and decided on casually addressing Sam by the same name my father mentioned on that dreadful day he left our home.I needed to know what it all meant, the dreams, my father’s intuition, Michael, and Sam.Could it be my dad saw Samantha coming in one of his visions?How ludicrous. Like my creator––my father, I am surely losing my mind, I thought, as I shook away the unsettling thoughts.

  “Tell me about these dreams, Beth. Maybe I can give you some insight to what they mean. My father dabbled in the study of dreams a bit in England. It had always intrigued me. I can try to interpret their meanings.”

  I decided to give it a go. “Where should I start? My dreams, most of them are about Sam.” I confessed. His jaw tightened. I could see his pulse increase momentum in his temple.

  “Tell me how you see her,” he whispered.

  “You’re in my dreams too and this.” I touched the silver medal swaying back and forth from the rearview mirror. He stared tensely at the road ahead. His lips pressed tightly together.

  When he did not reply, I gathered his mind began deciphering my dream so I continued to tell him about it. “I was running away from something that was chasing me by the river. I didn’t see it, but I heard it. Its horrible voices laughing at me as it followed me, lashing at my arms and legs. Trees snapped around me and sounds of rocks crashing to the ground vibrated. Eerie cries and chilling screams pounded in my ears. And out of nowhere, there you were, rescuing me.” I paused.

  “And,” he said impatiently.

  “It’s silly, Michael. Really, they’re just dreams.” I sank into the soft leather seat hoping he wouldn’t press me for more details about my stupid dreams.

  “Please, Beth!” he scoffed. He took me by surprise raising his voice, clearly upset with me. He has always been composed and calm with me, except for our phone conversation the night I returned home from the lake. Yet, the compulsion I felt to convey the detail of my last dream made me only want to forget it. I didn’t want to hold back or have any secrets, but this intense urgency inside my chest pushed me to be truthful and honest.

  “There’s no need to get upset. I’ll tell you about the dreams, and as ridiculous as they may be, they’re not real.” I paused as Michael again, looked on with chagrin. I decided to continue. “I was at the lake this time, it was night and freezing out. My throat burned. . .” I looked up at the necklace again. “I. . .I was wearing that.” I pointed to the medallion of the Blessed Mother, then looked at Michael for an explanation. His expression was blank. An uncomfortable silence filled the small space we shared. Again, I went on with my story. “ I needed water, I was thirsty, but someone shouted words I didn’t understand. I think I fell in, I’m not sure how, but I. . .I was drowning and I could feel my lungs hurting. At the bottom of Lake Rushford was a buried city. It was strange. Creepy. There were lots of dead people floating and an eel or a snake at the bottom of the lake, swam toward me while...” I suddenly gasped. It all fell into perspective. The snake with jade eyes. I was dismayed.

  “What Elizabeth? What else do you remember?” his voice became edgy and detached.

  “A snake with jade eyes.” I whispered. This confirmed some of my doubts, yet I still would not believe it.

  He snapped his mouth shut, looking at me with a fury for a long while. A convulsion of pain coerced my stomach, frantically watching the winding road, as Michael’s eyes stared intensely at me. His hands gripped the steering wheel as the sound of the leather creaked from the intensity of his grip.

  Staring at his wild eyes, I panicked, this time in fear. “Michael, what do they mean?” I murmured touching the thin piece of jewelry.

  He stirred restlessly in his seat. Taking a long, deep breath before replying, “Not sure. It can mean lots of things. It all depends. Normally, if you’ve seen something or maybe talked about a particular thing or person that day, your mind kind of plays out the events of the day in your dream later that night. Thoughts linger in the back of your mind all day and come up again in your dreams but in a warped sort of way.”

  “Would that be the reason for dreaming of this same necklace?” I reached up and touched the medal, “I know I was wearing it in this dream, and I’ve seen it before in another dream. What about the snake, the fear. . . ? Are they omens or warnings?”

  His eyes squeezed shut momentarily, as if what I was telling him crawled under his skin and poisoned him. “I don’t believe they are. Could be a hidden fear or worry that is threatening you—maybe suffering from the headaches has been a concern on your mind. Just be careful, that’s all.” He repositioned his hands onto the wheel. His eyes returned to the slick road ahead.

  “That’s it? These dreams about you and Sam are because of my headaches? Be careful? Michael, you looked like someone who wanted to snap a neck, preferably Sam’s!” I argued.

  “Elizabeth, I’ve told you before, I just have a hunch about her, that’s all. I’m not sure that your dreams have any meanings at all. I never saidI was the dream expert, but as far as your friend goes, my intuition is telling you to watch out. The less time you spend with her, the better I’ll feel, is what I’m saying!” He watched me carefully.

  He reached for my hand. “Forget your dreams and Sam. This weekend is about you and me. I want you to enjoy your time here.” His words almost sounded final.

  My forehead creased above my brows at the inevitability of his comment.Time here?I fussed with the idea of how much time I had on this earth with this remarkable boy at my side. Did he know something I didn’t? My headaches, visions and voices again crammed in my thoughts for a good portion of the trip, as did my poor dog.Monstruma cold voice, uttered with resonance in my ear. I carefully turned toward Michael, as not to alert him, but suspected that he may have heard the voice in my head hiss the word,omen. He stared hard at me. Lips parted as he gasped imperceptibly. An unnerving iciness settled deep in his eyes. For all I knew, my delusions no longer wished to be hidden, presenting themselves on the outside, exposing me for who I was; a misfit. We stayed silent, listening to the radio for the next several hours.

  “You’re very quiet. Are you sure you’re up for this trip? I know how much Prince meant to you,” he said compassionately.

  “I’ll be fine. I just can’t understand what or who could have done that to him.” I looked down at my lap.

  “I think I have a good idea of what happened to Prince.” he said looking ahead at the road.

  I faced him, with visions of the vicious animal or person who took my dog’s life. I closed my eyes wanting to control the tears that pooled in them. Once the song on the radio faded, Michael pressed the iPod and turned up the volume.

  “This is one of my favorite pieces.” He informed me.

  “It’s beautiful. What’s it called?”


  “Beautiful As You.” He said taking my hand and caressing my knuckles with his thumb.

  “Do you play this on the piano?” I asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I’d love to hear you play for me someday,” I murmured, happily.

  “Then I shall play for you, princess.” He grinned.

  Soon after passing through customs, we arrived at a traffic circle and exited on Chemin Du Village, in Mont Tremblant, Quebec. The village was amazing. A canvased painting of an ideal winter wonderland, a skier’s paradise. The majestic acres of the Laurentian Mountains reveled in outdoor activities and amenities around the small community. Michael’s home was nestled in the heart of Mont Tremblant’s Pedestrian Village. Everything easily accessible from this charming street, slopes, boutiques, restaurants, cafes and bars. It was as picturesque as I had hoped it to be. I was happy. And having Michael in my life, made me complete.

  The incline of the street made it difficult to tow my luggage along the ancient cobblestones. Michael strapped the handle of my bag around his hand and tugged it with ease. He unlocked the wooden door of a four-story house and continued up the stairs. By the time I reached the third floor, I was gasping for air, as if I had been running a marathon. Michael’s breathing, instead, was steady and slow. “How do you do that?” I asked between puffs.

  “Do what?” he teased me.

  “Never mind. Remind me to never give up track!” I said, trying not to over exert myself between huffs.

  Several minutes after composing myself midway up the staircase, I stepped into the apartment and raked over every angle of the luxurious loft. Creamy marble floors complimented the buttery cottonwood moldings that sheath the walls of windows. Looking out to the village, the vivid sunset began to outline the mountains in the iridescent, evening sky.

  Michael stood motionless, waiting for me to face him. I turned on my heels, letting my arms frail loosely about. “Oh, my goodness, Michael! This is gorgeous!” I shouted, pouncing aimlessly onto the velvety couch. Rich, soft aromas filled my nostrils. Michael immediately knelt beside me. His hand stroked my face, then my neck and continued to my shoulder and down my arm. Tiny swells formed under my thin paled skin. A shrill of delight forced me to arch the small of my back. My head receded into a pillow, as my eyes fluttered closed. Feeling euphoric, I reached up to pull his face to mine. Our lips met with sweltering sensations, tasting the sweetness of his mouth. He accepted my kiss with a tucked of his hand under my back as he carted me forward. His chest rested on mine. Our hearts beat in musical harmony, as I wrapped my leg around his, pulling him closer. His chest quivered against mine while his powerful kisses tugged at my lips, parting them eagerly then delicately, slowing his passion with smaller nibbles on my throbbing lips. He opened his beautiful, sapphire eyes, tenderly kissing my neck, then my chin and finally the tip of my nose. With one push of his powerful arms, he lifted his body up onto his feet. I lay quivering, with one hand resting on my tepid forehead, wondering if my kisses disappointed him. I sat up fixing my blouse and my unruly hair.

  “Michael, why did you stop?” I asked short of breath. He sat down beside me and held my hand.

  “We need to slow down. We have our whole lives to be intimate. I’m not going to take advantage of you. I want to know everything about you first, and it’s important you to know me, too. As a gentleman, my word is my honor. I promised you that. I can’t explain what happened here, but whenever I’m around you, I’m different. You do something to me that I can’t control.” Don’t control it!I thought exhilarated that I had this effect on him.

  “How about I make us a romantic dinner?” he smirked pulling me off the couch and into his arms.

  “Frozen dinner?” I joked, concluding that most eighteen year olds weren’t the greatest cooks, including myself.

  “Not good enough for your lips, Princess.” He brushed my lips with his then bowed regally. We both laughed, as he politely bestowed upon me the title of royalty. Royalty I was not, but today I’d accept his company as a royal blessing. While Michael prepared dinner, I headed for the shower with these words racing across my mind . . .A prince for a princess. “Thank you, Daddy.” I whispered as I hummed the words in my head.

  Sam’s bag was filled with designer goodies. It surprised me that she packed outfits that were modest and feminine. I placed the garments on the bed and gently glided my fingers over the exquisite fabrics. I held the sable-colored Rachel Zoe design in front of me as I admired its feminine lines in the mirror. It complemented the highlights in my hair. Its one-shoulder neckline and mid-thigh length had an intricately edged hem. I slipped on Grecian inspired dress and strapped heels, loosely pinning my hair back, allowing the spirals to spill over my exposed shoulder and back.

  From the top floor loft, strokes of piano keys played melodically through the house. I walked up the winding staircase to a ceiling of cascading windows that created the illusion of being on a rooftop, as the twilight sky and shimmering village lights sparkled all around us. A pearl-white baby grand sat in the center of this room of seamless windows. At the keys, my angel played passionately. I watched as he played music that would make even the Vatican’s choir quiver with euphoria. Blood rushed through every vein in my body making me feel alive. I slowly walked over to Michael, allowing my hand caress his shoulders as his fingers effortlessly pressed the keys. I frolicked my fingers through his tousles, taking a seat beside him as he continued to play the most heavenly sonata my ears had ever heard. I watched him with devotion as he demonstrated his incredible talent. He played the last lingering scale and took note of my appearance from head to toe. He leaned in to kiss my cheek. “You’re beautiful.” he whispered.

  “Thank you.” I whispered back.

  I pressed the keys one at a time in tempo along with his. The sound of the instrument was blissful. “Go ahead. Play something for me,” he murmured, sliding over on the bench seat, giving me a better position on the baby grand. I pressed the keys without apprehension. The ivories were second nature for me by now. Like running a three-mile course through Genesee Park or skiing through Swain’s trails. As I played Beethoven’s,‘Silence’, his beautiful smile stretched across his lips while his fingers stroked my bare shoulder. He nibbled on my neck. I couldn’t concentrate. His lips fuddled my focus to play the instrument, sending my heart thumping intensely through the thin sheath of the dress. My fingers were suddenly noncompliant to playing. Amused at my lack of concentration, Michael, tantalized my ability to play the piano, as well as I claimed to have played.

  “Stop that!” I said, playfully nudging him with my elbow.

  “Stop what? Maybe you need more practice,” he toyed, affecting my ability to play an entire verse without errors.

  “I do not! I know perfectly well how to play. I’ve been hitting these keys a lot longer than you have, and if I recall, I did beat you to first place!” I teased him. He wrapped his arms around my body nuzzling his nose in my hair and, giving it me tight squeeze before saying something I didn’t expect, “If you play as beautifully as you look, I’m gonna be in serious trouble tonight.” He laughed, rising off the bench seat and walking over to the window. My heart pounded feeling a sudden shift in my body temperature as I continued pressing the keys without hindrance. During the last lingering note, Michael picked up a small remote and pointed it toward the entertainment center. The stereo system came alive with the sound of a lovely ballad echoing through the speakers. He held out his hand, asking me to dance.

  The last time I danced closely with anyone was with Freddie. It was a hot summer day in Castile. We went swimming in the basin of the cascading falls, only days away from graduating middle school. Our laughter over Freddie’s uninhibited awkwardness at the winter dance, echoed passed the waterfall’s hidden overhang. Dancing proved to be problematic for my spiky-haired friend, but all the same, that day at Middle Falls, he attempted to learn how to dance before our Senior Prom, practicing on me. He held me awkwardly at arm’s length, at f
irst, until I pulled him closer, closing the space between us enough to position my hand on his shoulder. Placing his hand on my lower back, I instructed him to hold me firmly, “There. That’s where your hand should stay,” I’d said to him. Slowly swaying, we hummed a melody keeping the rhythm of our movements in tempo. “One, two, one, two––” I counted, closing my eyes to enjoy the peaceful moment with my best friend. The sounds of the water crashing at the base of the falls set the perfect rhythm as ripples and small rolling waves created a natural motion for our dance. It wasn’t till Freddie kissed me, that I opened my eyes and pushed his head under water. “Gross, Freddie!” I yelled at him, splashing water in his face, angrily. “Why did you do that?” I snapped, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and treading back to the overlook.

  “I’m sorry, Beth. I was only kidding. I. . .I don’t know why I did that!” Freddie pleaded, swimming after me. It was hard to imagine that Freddie realistically had been my first kiss. If it was a kiss at all.

  Michael reached for my hand, drawing back to the present. He smoothly tucked his face between the curves of my shoulder, inhaling my scent. Unlike my dance with Freddie, this felt perfect. His hand held mine on his chest as we moved in accord to the rhythm of the music.

  His velvety voice tickled my ear as he sang beautifully along with the verse,

  “Holding you in my arms, no one has ever fit so perfectly

  I will dance forever with you...only you.”

  I rested my head against his chest, humming to the rhythm of his heartbeat. As we floated around the room to the melodic serenade, he spoke softly in my ear, “The minute I saw you in the library, I wanted to know you.” He smiled, as the thought crossed his mind. “I sat in my car for an hour that morning, waiting for you to come out. I was tempted to come back in and sit at your table, pretending to be reading something, any excuse to introduce myself.” He arched his brows teasingly. “I never wanted to do that before. Ever.” He whispered almost disappointedly.