by Anna Rezes
“My pleasure.”
Birdsongs and hushed movements of wildlife are music to my ears. My gaze wanders around the small picturesque place until it falls back on Patrick who is staring at me. I narrow my eyes trying to keep my guard up, trying to talk sense into myself. Maybe this was all just a ploy to soften me up.
“There you go again.” He grins, amused by my private thoughts. “Always thinking I’m out to get you.”
I cross my arms in frustration. “You said you’d teach me how to keep my thoughts to myself.”
“I will.”
“So, teach me!”
He sighs, “It will take time.”
“How long?” I ask, a wave of concern washing over me as I remember the overwhelming emotions I felt from Patrick a few minutes ago. If he can’t control himself after years of practice, then how long will it take me?
“Emily, I was sixteen when I got my abilities. For nearly four years I’ve had perfect control; however, you tend to bring out the worst in me. Normally, I’m flawless.”
“Normally? So why does Morgan think you’re dangerous?”
“She doesn’t view me as dangerous. She just sees the way girls, well, most girls throw themselves at me. She was worried you had succumbed to my charm and I dismissed you. She was proud of you when she saw how you reacted to me.”
“About that charm of yours. Besides the obvious, why do you have that effect on everyone?”
“The obvious?”
“Oh, come on, Patrick, don’t act ignorant. We both know you don’t have a modest bone in your body.”
“Are you undressing me with your eyes again?” There is laughter in his eyes.
“I get it now. God made you beautiful to cover up how unbelievably obnoxious you are.”
Cue Patrick’s deep rumbling laughter. The sound reverberates inside of me, touching me somewhere so deep, a place I didn’t know existed until this moment. For once I think he may be as carefree as he pretends to be.
Once he pulls himself together and wipes away a tear, he says, “The pull I have on everyone is part of my skill.”
“Skill? Are you kidding me?”
“It’s part of my abilities. You’ll have them as well. You will be able to be whomever you want to be; do whatever you want to do. You possess a magnetic pull that will only strengthen with time and practice,” Patrick assures me.
This is why I’m so drawn to him, because of the magnetic pull he’s mastered.
“So, what do you do when girls throw themselves at you? Keeping in mind, they only throw themselves at you because you don’t give them a choice.”
“That depends on how much time I have,” he says with a suggestive smile.
“You manipulate them! Don’t you feel guilty?”
“Manipulate?” Aghast, he places a hand against his chest. “Hardly, I’m simply living my life.”
“Really? You don’t feel like you’re taking advantage?”
“Absolutely not,” he says with a sly grin, “I’m an attractive option, and I can assure you I have never once done anything to anyone against their will.”
I give him a look of disgust. “Only because you take away their willpower!”
“Perhaps.” He shrugs with a dark gaze. “Nevertheless, I give people options they didn’t have before. Besides, what would you have me do? Nothing? That would be a waste. People have no idea what’s good for them.”
I blink slowly thinking there’s no way I could have heard him right. “Oh, and you think you know what’s good for them?”
“Yes.” He smirks, and I realize he may be a sociopath.
“Are you kidding me?” I whisper, as the part of me that loathes him resurfaces. “I will never be like you.”
His chin dips, but his eyes train on me with stubborn perseverance. I feel an undercurrent of emotions barreling up from inside of me. I don’t care if he knows. I want him to know he repulses me.
“Emily,” his voice is deep and executed with precise measure. “Love, you really ought to be able to control your emotions better than this.”
Irritated to my core, I can’t believe his arrogance. He smiles at my reproach because he has no conscience. Is this why Tom doesn’t want him here? Is this what I will become? Is this how my mom was? My anger turns to fear. Dad said my mom did unimaginable things. What did he mean? Did she manipulate people without a moral sense of right and wrong? Will I manipulate people to get whatever I want without restriction like Patrick does? Will I lose my moral code? I know my feelings are becoming irrational, and I try to snap out of it, but I am drowning in confusion. Each devastating crash of emotion washes over me like waves of an angry ocean. They engulf and consume me until I can no longer control my thoughts.
In some sense I know I’m sitting in the boat across from Patrick, but my mind feels lost within my body. The lucid part of me ducks my head between my legs while I hyperventilate. I’ve had a panic attack before, but this is something entirely different. I close my eyes, and there is no boat, no pond, no Patrick. Everything is altered, and I’m submerged in an ocean during a violent storm. Dark waves roll over me one after the other, pushing me deeper under the cascading water. My lungs burn as I gasp for breath, inhaling the salty water. Darkness surrounds me and my chest is on fire. I am drowning.
Just as my hope fades, I discover a life force nearby and sense Patrick with me. I cannot see him, yet I feel him—not physically—but somehow, I know he’s there.
His calming emotions envelop me, and I welcome them like air. It’s a life raft rescuing me from drowning. The more I breathe in, the more I feel Patrick pulling away. He’s toying with me, showing me what I want—what I need—only to rip it away. I draw it to myself and cradle it like something precious. I let the calm sink in and take a staggering breath. He’s fighting me, but it doesn’t matter. Holding onto this piece of him without great effort, I have no intention of giving it back. Maybe he will see what it’s like to be taken advantage of.
More than just the serene calm, I feel surges of overwhelming pleasure. I’m no longer drowning under the current of the waves or sailing in the life raft. I’m soaring atop the crushing waves, controlling and directing them. I am the driving force behind each monstrous crash and I’m excited by the frenzy. I hold my hands out in front of me and feel the dominance radiating from them. It’s an immense thrill that electrifies me, and I crave more of this power. I need it!
“Emily,” Patrick’s voice is muffled, distant, and strained. I look around and don’t see him here. I don’t understand where his voice is coming from, or where he is. Then I realize I don’t know where I am. None of this makes sense. Am I dreaming?
“Emily, please.”
It’s barely audible. Where did he go? He sounds so far away. I follow his voice.
I fight to regain control of my body. When I successfully open my eyes, I realize Patrick is very close. Too close. I am crouching over him holding his perfect face between my hands. I release him immediately and scurry back to sit on the floor farthest from him.
When I look up, Patrick is hunched over and gasping for air. He’s looking at the floor with his arms outstretched holding tight to the sides of the boat. He looks exhausted, weak, vulnerable like he’s just been beaten. I don’t know what happened, but I know I just did something awful to him.
My head is shaking involuntarily, too overwhelmed for words. Witnessing Patrick looking so defeated unnerves me. His head slowly rises out of its stupor. His skin is pale, and there is something eerie about his eyes. His usual sapphire orbs are a milky blue.
“What happened?” I whisper, slumped against the side of the boat, my hands gripping the edge.
He closes his eyes to steady himself and his body trembles as his breath comes rapidly. He needs time to recover, so I wait. His breathing eventually slows, and I see a glimpse of his calm returning, but it takes a long time for his eyes to reopen, and the paleness in them scares me.
I’m out of my mind frightened, not of
Patrick, but myself. “What did I do? Please, tell me what happened!”
Neither his weary tone nor his words comfort me. “You stopped.”
“I don’t understand.”
His voice is sorrowful, and with a heavy sigh, he says, “I underestimated you, Emily. You’re much more powerful than I could’ve known, love.”
It’s the first time I’m happy to hear his nickname for me. He looks nervous being so close and I see the fear he’s failing to hide.
“Patrick, what exactly did I do?” I’m desperate for the truth but terrified of the answer.
“I wanted you to experience your power and at the same time block my power over you, but . . . you saw what you wanted, and you took it.” He hesitates, absorbed with his thoughts. “You didn’t realize what you were taking.”
“What was I taking? I don’t even understand where I was. I thought I was drowning.”
He takes a breath and I brace myself. His voice is deep and smooth, “You were taking parts of me.”
A crude laugh springs from me, adding to the strangling tension. “What?”
Looking at me as if I had grown a second head, Patrick leans forward. “Emily, you were taking my gifts . . . my spirit . . . my life.”
I gasp. “Is that possible?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God.” I slump back.
He releases his grip on the boat. “Only those with incredible power can take the power of another the way you just did.”
“But I stopped, right, you said it yourself. I stopped.”
“Which only makes it more unbelievable. You should’ve killed me. I should be dead.”
“You’re saying I almost killed you?”
“Yes.”
“With my mind?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not a killer, Patrick.”
“No, I guess not. What stopped you?”
“What stopped me? You . . . you did. I didn’t know where I was and then I heard you and you . . . you pulled me out of it.”
“You heard my voice?”
I nod and move up onto the seat.
“You shouldn’t have been able to hear me,” he says in a solemn tone.
“Why not?”
“You just shouldn’t have.” He lifts the oars ready to row. “Let’s talk about this later. We need to get back.”
He rows us toward the curtain of leaves hanging from the willow. The bow of the boat splits the fine branches to make an opening. My fingers trail the soft leaves as we glide through the willow into the pond. The dipping sun feels warm against my skin as we near the wall of grass that will lead us back to the open lake.
“Patrick,” I feel an urgency to ask him as many questions as I can before we’re back with the others. My insides are shaking, but I try to keep the fear out of my voice when I ask, “What am I?”
He tilts his head to the side and with a velvet voice, he croons, “You’re Emily.”
I give him an exhausted look, feeling the tall reeds of grass tickling my arms, but I don’t break his stare. “You know what I mean. What are we?”
“We’re human. Just like everyone.”
“Humans can’t do the things we can do.”
“We are humans who have extra abilities.”
“Patrick?” I know he’s drawing this out.
With a sigh, he explains, “I’ve heard different names for what we are, but I prefer to be called human. We have human blood pumping through our human veins with all of our human parts. My mom always told me it was good to humanize ourselves; otherwise, we may think we’re superior. We could lose our humanity and become monsters if we take what we want because we can—because we think we deserve it.”
I know he’s speaking from the heart and I like what he’s saying. It sounds right, but he’s completely contradicting everything he said earlier.
“But . . .”
“I was pushing you,” he interjects. “I was trying to irritate you, not that I have to try.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, watching the open lake reappear behind Patrick.
He continues rowing us into the vastness of the lake as he explains, “I had to push you to your breaking point so you could begin training your mind.”
“You meant for that to happen?”
He shakes his head. “It wasn’t supposed to go down that way.”
“So, what went wrong?”
“It was too much. The emotions overtook you. You felt as if you were drowning and truly in your mind you were. You felt my presence, and you latched onto me. You didn’t realize what you were doing. That power in your hands . . . You wanted it. You could’ve completely taken it, but you stopped. You stopped when you heard my voice.”
“It was barely a whisper.”
“It seemed that way to you because you were so deep within my mind.”
“I was what?”
“Let’s not worry about this now,” he says like I didn’t just try to kill him. “The sun is almost down, and they will be waiting for us. Calm down the best you can. I don’t want you to look amiss. They’ll wonder what I did to you.”
“Or what I did to you!”
“It’s nothing for us to worry about now, love,” he soothes. “Let’s just breathe and regroup.”
It’s as if I’m seeing him for the first time. He’s different, and I have a feeling I’m looking at the real Patrick right now. Starting at his bare feet, my gaze slides up his long powerful legs and over his chiseled abdomen. His chest and shoulder muscles tense and flex as he rows. His heartbeat thrums in his neck as his wavy blond locks blow gently in the breeze. There’s so much more to this handsome, peculiar man than I could ever have imagined. But his eyes are foreign to me, a stranger behind the faded misty-blue. I want his bright eyes back.
“What happened to your eyes?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You don’t know? They’re light blue instead of their usual sapphire. I’m surprised you haven’t heard it in my mind.
“You are more difficult for me to hear now,” he answers with a melancholy tone.
I’m surprised by my unexpected sadness that he can’t hear my thoughts even though I was sure that was what I wanted. “It sounds like your plan worked . . . sort of.”
I hear his deep voice inside my head. “You can still speak to me whenever you like.”
“I thought you couldn’t hear me?” I say aloud.
“I said it was more difficult.”
I try to speak into his mind, feeling incredibly stupid as I shout in my head, “Thanks for the ride!”
His body stiffens. “A whisper would suffice.”
“I’m still learning,” I excuse myself. We’ve already made it into the deep end of the swimming area. The other boat is tied at the dock and Morgan is sitting on the beach laughing with her sister and Noah.
“Thank you for joining me,” Patrick says politely.
His form has become a silhouette to the setting sun, and I watch as Morgan gets up from her chair on the beach. I realize our time together is slipping through my fingers like sand through an hourglass. I’m not ready for our trip to end. I still have more questions, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m still shaken from our bizarre encounter and not ready to leave him.
As the boat drifts toward the dock, I panic, “Patrick!”
“Yes?”
“Can we talk later?”
“Of course.”
“Tonight?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound too desperate.
“Tonight is perfect,” he reassures, gently guiding the boat alongside the small wooden dock as Morgan approaches.
Patrick leaps onto the dock with animal grace and turns to offer me his hand. I feel the electric tingle between us as we touch. I look him over one more time—sensing a connection—feeling a comfort I hadn’t understood before. I reluctantly let go and force myself to walk the small dock while he ties the boat.
I stop and turn, unable to resist asking, �
�One last question?”
He finishes tying the rope and stands to face me. “Sure.”
“The job? What’s the complication?” I ask as Morgan walks to my side.
He sighs and stares at me with tender eyes. He whispers into my mind, “You. You’re making me question everything.” He looks to the ground, a shy characteristic very unlike him. He steps around me and strolls away.
I am a statue. It reminds me of the first time we met. I feel hypnotized by him. Does he feel the same?
“Patrick?” Morgan calls after him in frustration. She doesn’t know I got my answer. He doesn’t even acknowledge her complaint as he strolls off into the evening.
I put my hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve been interrogating him all evening.”
With one hand on her hip, she says, “Speaking of the evening. Where did you guys go?”
“We were in the lily pad cove. Don’t worry; nothing happened.”
It’s a lie. Everything changed in the course of a single boat ride. I know Morgan wants to know what happened between us, but Patrick made it clear she isn’t to know anything.
As Patrick meets up with Tom in the middle of the yard, Tom turns to stare at me with a look of apprehension. I can’t help seeing him in a new light with the knowledge of his secret.
“You guys were gone for two hours!” Morgan complains, drawing my attention back to her.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, it’s almost nine o’clock.”
“Wow, Morgan, I’m sorry. I didn’t know we were gone so long.”
“It’s okay. I got to catch up with my sister. I guess her boyfriend isn’t so bad.”
We walk back to the house having almost an hour before the fireworks begin. Morgan has already taken a shower while she waited for us to return. I take a cool shower afraid to put too much heat against my tender skin. Once finished, I slip into my new jean shorts and a tank-top. The straps press painfully against the sunburn on my shoulders, but aside from going nude, there is nothing I can do. I run a brush through my wet hair and grab a sweater. Slipping on my sandals, I run downstairs to meet Morgan.
“Mmm, that smells delicious!”
Morgan is heating some leftovers from the barbecue. “I thought you’d be hungry, so I heated enough for both of us.”