by Anna Rezes
Molly throws herself in the seat next to me and removes the lid exposing a fluffy omelet and fresh fruit. “She’s the best cook!” Molly brags to me as if we’re good friends. Barbie stands beside Molly waiting as she takes a bite.
“Mmm,” Molly moans with a mouthful. “It’s dewishous.” Molly dabs at her mouth with a napkin and turns to me. “I didn’t introduce you two.” She grabs Barbie’s hand bringing her closer. “Natalia, this is Emily.”
Natalia, as in the same Natalia she wants to be with Ben! I have to admit she’s gorgeous, Molly-approved, and apparently, she makes delicious food. I can see why she would be better for Ben.
“Nice to meet you, Natalia,” I say, as I get to my feet.
“I’m glad to have met you,” she says with a polite smile as I begin to walk away.
“Where are you going?” Molly asks.
“I’ll just wait in his room,” I reply, wanting to free myself from the awkwardness.
“Whatever.” She gives me a dismissive wave.
I enter his room and think seriously about escaping out the back door, but I told Ben I wouldn’t run, so instead, I sit on the edge of his bed wishing I felt worthy of him.
twenty
The clock above the register—which is moving slower than usual—tells me it’s two o’clock which means I’ve only been working for two hours. It seems like forever. I don’t know whether it’s the lack of sleep catching up with me or because Ben is picking me up from work and I’m anxious for my shift to be over, but time is dragging.
“Hey, daydreamer,” Morgan chimes, standing at my register with a small container of fish food.
“Hey, Morgan.”
“I was around the area and thought I’d stop by and see if you were working. I didn’t see your car outside.”
“It’s in the shop.”
“Oh no. Do you need a ride later? I’m meeting up with some old teammates, but I can swing by if you need me.”
“Thanks, but Ben’s picking me up.”
“Ben?” She beams. “Everything good there?”
“Yeah, it’s good. We’re good.” I can’t keep from smiling. “And to be clear, nothing is going on between Patrick and me.”
“Sounds like we need to catch up. Are you available this week?”
“Sure, I’ll call you when I’m off.”
She notices a guy waiting in line behind her, so she begins backing away from the counter. “Okay, I’ll see you later.”
“Bye,” I say, before turning to the next customer.
“Hello, Emily, how are you today?” the stranger says, and fear punches me in the gut.
“Fine,” I mumble, wondering how he knows me. A second later I feel stupid when I remember I’m wearing a name tag. “Did you find everything you need?” I stammer, trying to recover.
“I sure did,” he says.
I’m relieved he was just a customer and not an Olvasho ready to discover and expose my identity. The rest of the day drags on until Ben picks me up from work.
As we approach my house, I spot Dad’s truck in the open garage and wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. I want Ben here, but Dad and I still need to talk about Patrick, and we can’t do that in front of Ben. I also need to ask Dad if he can help me fill in those missing parts of my memory.
All these things are swirling through my head as we make our way into the house. I’m surprised when Maggie growls at Ben. I thought she was over her aversion to him. While I give my attention to Maggie, Ben goes straight to the kitchen with the grocery bags he purchased before picking me up.
“Hey Ben, thanks for getting her to work and back,” Dad says from the kitchen.
“No problem. Did they find out what’s going on with her car?” Ben asks.
“I tried to jump it first, thought it might be the battery, but when it wouldn’t start, I had it towed. It’s probably the starter,” he replies.
“Ah, I might be able to help with that,” Ben offers.
“I doubt it’ll be worth fixing. Sorry, Em,” Dad says, as I join them in the kitchen. “It looks like you may have to say goodbye to your car. I don’t like you driving something so unsafe. Your muffler has a hole in it, you need new tires and new struts, and it has two-hundred and fifty-thousand miles on it. And that’s just the list of problems we know. I think it’s time to move on.”
“I knew this would happen eventually. I just didn’t expect it so soon,” I say.
“We’ll find something better. We can go car shopping this weekend,” Dad offers.
I nod, saying, “I have some money saved up.”
“Keep saving it. Think of this as a belated graduation gift.” He smiles, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“That’s too much, Dad.”
“No, it’s overdue and don’t argue with me. Samantha got a car when she graduated, so why wouldn’t you?”
I don’t think my dad has the money, but I don’t want to have this conversation right now, so I change the subject. “How was your trip?”
“Uneventful. What’re you two doing tonight?”
Without warning, Ben steps into me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. My inherent reaction is to pull away, but I resist my initial reflex and relax into his side, saying, “We’re gonna hang out here if you don’t mind.”
Dad looks to the arm wrapped around me, but doesn’t comment; instead, he says, “I just finished installing the TV in the living room. It’s an 8K ultra HD resolution with 4320 pixels. It blows the 1080p out of the water. Come look at the clarity.” He appears entirely at ease talking to Ben about his newest electronic. He is excellent at pretending everything is fine, but I know he’s pretending because I sense his tension as he leads Ben into the living room.
My feet stay planted in the kitchen feeling heavier now that I’m home. The weight of everything is a little more real when I’m here. The splash of color on the wall next to the refrigerator draws my eye. Before Mom left, she tried out some paint samples. She wanted to brighten the place up like she brightened everything she touched. The splash of yellow only amplifies the drab brown walls. This house is filled with reminders of what’s already been lost.
Unsolicited images of my mom lying on the floor in a widening pool of blood fill my mind, and I’m having trouble breathing. Plagued with panic, I bolt out the back door, hoping to find air more easily outside. Before the dizziness overcomes me, I sit on the edge of the back porch. Maggie comes and sits beside me, placing her head on my shoulder while I focus on my breathing. I should be excited my boyfriend and my dad are getting along so well, but I can’t shake this uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“You okay?” I hear from behind me. I glance up to find Dad and Ben in the doorway, both looking concerned.
“Yeah, just a little dizzy. I think I need to eat something.”
“I’ll get started,” Ben says, disappearing into the kitchen.
Dad’s expression is one of confusion, and I can’t help but smile despite myself. “Ben is trying to prove to me that he knows how to cook.”
Dad shakes his head, looking somewhere between amused and impressed before settling on compassion. “Still having flashbacks?”
I nod, and he takes that as an invitation. He sits down next to me in silence for a while before he says, “You deserve to be happy, Emily.”
“Do I? What if I don’t know how?”
“Ben makes you happy. I never see you smile more than when you two are together. Just because you’re different doesn’t mean you can’t care about people. It doesn’t mean you can’t love someone. Look at your mother and me.”
“Yeah and look how that ended,” I blurt, immediately regretting it.
“I don’t regret it,” he says with intent, drawing my eyes back to him. “Any of it. I know you worry about me, but you shouldn’t. The moment I met your mother I knew there was no alternative for me. If I had the choice, I would do it all again. Your mother was worth every bit of sacrifice and so are you.”
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br /> “Sacrifice? That’s just it, Dad, I don’t want anyone to have to sacrifice anything because of me.”
“I might sound like a hopeless romantic, but I believe we were put on this earth to love and to be loved. And sweetheart, that boy in there loves you. I’m not trying to scare you, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and I’ve seen the way you look at him. He’s more important to you than you let on.”
There is a pause, giving me time to think. I’d never in my life considered Dad any kind of romantic until this moment and what’s scary is how close his words are to the truth.
“That doesn’t mean I’m endorsing sex by the way,” he continues. “I will kill him.”
I gawk at him.
He’s smiling, thoroughly enjoying my horror. “I thought that’d get you out of your trance. Now come on; let’s go see if your boyfriend can cook.” He stands and offers his hand to help me up.
twenty-one
Days begin to pass with an unusual amount of normalcy, and I start believing one day I might be able to live this happy life instead of just pretending. As it turns out, Ben can cook, and Dad has a sense of humor.
Monday, I spend time doing laundry, cleaning, homework and talking to my boyfriend on the phone. Telling Ben not to come over is hard because I really want to see him, but in my experience, too much of a good thing can lead to trouble. Caring about him the way I do is a vulnerability that however much I try, I can’t seem to abandon.
After class on Tuesday, I’m sitting in my living room with a thick book propped on my lap. Absently, I tap my pencil against my knee as I try to read the grueling humanities assignment. My thoughts keep floating back to Ben. When did I become this feeble-minded girl? Shaking my head as if I can shake free of my thoughts, I go back to reading. I scan the same paragraph I’ve already read three times with no idea what I’ve just read. Frustrated, I stick the pencil in the binding and close the book.
The rumble of an engine dies followed by a truck door slamming. I look out the window catching sight of Dad just before he enters the house. It’s two o’clock, way too early for him to be home.
“Studying?” he asks unnecessarily.
“I’m trying.”
“Go get dressed. You’re going to take a break. I’m taking you to the mall,” he says.
“Why? You’re the only person I know who hates shopping more than I do.”
“Go get ready, I’ll explain in the truck.”
Once we’re on our way, I notice Dad’s emotions are all over the place. Sadness, regret, and resolve are entangled in an angry cocoon of protection drifting heavily in the cab of the truck. It takes effort for me to stay locked out of his psyche. I’ve vowed I’d never go into his mind again because I know there are things he’s keeping from me that will haunt me more than my own memories.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I ask.
“We’re working on honing your skills today. The mall always has crowds of people. Where better to practice?”
I sigh. Sneaking into the mind of others and taking a gander at their deepest secrets is definitely not what I wanted to do today, but I keep my mouth shut because it does no good to complain. Besides, this is something I need to learn to control.
“I know you don’t like this, Em, but it could save your life one day, and you can’t ignore your gifts.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“This is non-negotiable. I’m sorry, but I need you to learn how to make the best of it. It’s the best way to protect yourself.”
We don’t speak another word, and the dread hangs like a boulder waiting to drop. We enter the sliding glass doors of the mall and walk around. I wonder how he expects me to dive into this. Focusing on the task at hand, I look at the crowd around us. It isn’t packed full of shoppers this time of day, but there are plenty of people milling around.
“Where should I begin?”
He points to a vacant bench in the middle of the atrium. It’s a vantage point that will allow us to blend in while we observe strangers ambling by.
As soon as we’re seated, Dad directs his gaze to a middle-aged woman inside a nearby store. “Try reading her.”
I focus on the woman as I shift my mind into hers. It’s strange being outside of my body but still remaining in total control. I concentrate on the woman, amazed at how quickly I’m in—in the store, sorting through a rack of over-priced clothing. Inside her mind she is . . . Bored. That can’t be all, but it’s the first thing I notice. She’s completely disinterested in what she’s doing. She’s keeping herself busy with things she used to love but now have become tedious tasks. I feel despair seeping through her. This distraction isn’t working for her, and I get the distinct feeling she’s very ill. Her heart, saturated with so much despair, oozes sadness like puss from an open wound. The intensity builds until I have to bail. I break the connection as sorrow rocks my body, solidifying the fact I will never consider this particular skill of mine a gift.
I don’t meet my Dad’s gaze; afraid he’ll ask about the unshed tears forming in my eyes. Persevering or perhaps running from the grief, I jump head first into the psyche of the next person I see. It happens to be the twenty-something guy behind the juice bar.
Perfect! Absolutely perfect to balance out my downward spiral into despair. His mind is merely happy with a mellowness suggesting a drug-induced calm. He doesn’t feel worried or guilty for taking the extra unscheduled breaks to smoke his joints or for skimming from the tip jar. He’s uncomplicated and content. I feel the pull to stay in his brain because the bliss is wholly sincere and relaxing. The simplicity of his mind is addicting. He possesses the “whatever” vibe I wish I could feel on my own.
I force my way back into my own mind. Dad’s trying to hide his grin, but I feel his pride as he watches me. I don’t understand the look because there’s no way for him to tell if what I’m doing is successful.
“Why the prideful look?”
His grin grows. “Because I’m proud of you. I forced you to practice something you hate, and instead of fighting me you’re soldiering through.”
His praise makes me shift uncomfortably, so I bring my eyes back to the pursuit of finding my next subject.
After hours of honing my new skill, it begins to feel normal. That’s what worries me the most. Reading other’s thoughts isn’t right in my book. Not only is it an invasion of privacy, but it is also hard to be in someone else’s head and in my own. It’s exhausting to feel all those emotions and stay unattached. What’s worse, I haven’t completely convinced myself that I’m not crazy.
Because my car is out of commission, Dad takes me to work on Wednesday. Once I’m there, I’m free to pretend my life is what it was before I learned the truth. Of course, Ashley bombards me with questions about my Friday evening with Patrick. To halt her interrogation, I give her a version of the truth.
“Ben and I are kind of together now, so stop worrying about Patrick.”
“Ben!” she chimes. “You mean tall, dark, and yummy. That Ben?”
I tilt my head as I look at her. “Tall, dark, and yummy?”
“Yeah and rich and he has those sculpted biceps. I’m so incredibly jealous. Like, seriously, I would kill to be stuck in your perfect love triangle.”
“Ashley, there is no love triangle.”
“Oh please, they’re both completely gone for you. You’ve gotta share your secrets with me. I mean, God, Emily, share the wealth! Sooo . . .” She nudges me.
“What?”
“Will you at least give Patrick my number?”
“No.”
“You little tease. You’re so not over him,” she accuses.
“Over him? I was never into him!”
“Then why won’t you give him my number?” She puts her hands on her hips like she’s said something profound and she’s waiting for it to sink in.
“Ashley,” I respond calmly. “Patrick is not good for you.”
“I think he’s perfect.”
She smiles, eyes distant, perhaps staring into a make-believe future with Patrick. I let her have her moment and go back to work feeding the fish in the aquariums. I don’t get far.
“So, does this mean I’ll be seeing more of Ben around here? Because that’s okay too.”
“Maybe.” I shrug.
“So what does ‘kinda together’ mean anyway? You’re such a prude. Please tell me you’ve at least kissed him! Are you still a virgin? God, I know you must be dying for some good foreplay. I mean it’s about freakin’ time, Emily!”
I roll my eyes wishing she’d go back to daydreaming about Patrick.
I continue down the line of aquariums, hoping she’ll drop the subject. I reach the last tank and turn to Ashley because there’s nowhere else for me to go. I’ve backed myself into a corner, literally. From the gleam in her eyes, she knows she has me cornered. She crosses her arms over her chest and waits for me to give her something.
“Excuse me.” A balding, middle-aged man comes to the end of the aisle behind Ashley. “I’m ready to check out.”
Ashley glances at him. “Hold on, can’t you see we’re like in the middle of something here?”
He makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and stalks off toward the registers.
“Ashley!”
She glares at me. “You’re selfish. You know that?” She turns to stroll down the aisle. “This is so not over by the way.”
The afternoon becomes busy, and just as Ashley finishes with her row of customers, a man pushes a bag of dog food onto my counter. While I ring him up, Ashley says, “It’s the single life for me, Emily.” She pouts, as she sits up on the counter. “Why else would I ask about your nonexistent sex life?”
My customer pauses to glance at me. Embarrassed, I smile and hand him his receipt. As he picks up the dog food to leave, I catch him giving me a once over. Wanting to hide under the counter, I mumble, “Have a nice day.”