by Sarah Noffke
“It’s not,” I said, a little put off by her moving away. I sat up a bit and looked at her. “It’s my pops. He calls every day and leaves numerous messages.”
She sat up fully, bucking me off her. “Why don’t you talk to him?”
I sat back on my knees, combing my hands through my hair. “He just wants to harass me about my choices. The last few times I spoke to my pops he couldn’t stop berating me about scamming for money,” I said.
The phone rang again. It was the third time.
“He might be calling for a different reason,” Dahlia said, standing. The phone went to the answering machine.
“What are you doing?” I asked her as she marched to the phone.
“I’m intervening,” she said.
The answering machine picked up.
“Why would you do that?” I asked, an angry edge in my voice.
“Because I sense I should,” she said as the beep to the machine sounded.
“Ren, this is your pops,” my father’s voice came over the machine. “I need to tal—”
Dahlia plucked the wireless phone off its cradle. “Ren Lewis’s phone,” she said, not looking at me. Probably knowing I was throwing an angry stare at her.
“Hi, Mr. Lewis,” she said after a moment and then paused.
“Yes, I’m a friend of Ren’s,” she said, daring to look at me and wink. “My name is Dahlia.”
She paused again, listening to my pops.
“Yes, I’ve totally heard her music,” she said with a guilty smile. “It’s great… ”
My pops had probably just said there was a famous vocalist by the same name. “Well, you probably want to talk to your son. He’s right here,” she said and handed me the phone.
I pressed my lips together and shot a scathing look at Dahlia as I ripped the phone from her hands. “Hello, Pops,” I said, whipping around and strolling to the window.
“Ren,” he said on the other side of the line. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for months.”
“I’ve been busy,” was all I said. I braced myself for his questions and critiques. Ever since I moved to London he’d been on my case about my choice of work. He apparently thought my scams were okay before I came of age but now that I was a man I needed to grow up.
“Ren, I was going to drive up there to see you soon if I couldn’t get ahold of you,” he said, a breathlessness in his voice.
“Pops, you do realize you’re a Dream Traveler and can just dream travel to the GAD-C in London and generate your body, right?” I said.
“Sure, but that’s not the point. Ren, I’ve been trying to contact you for all these months because you need to come home.”
I turned and looked at Dahlia. She was watching me, a concerned expression on her face.
“Why, Pops? What is it?”
“It’s your mum. She has cancer. She’s dying, son.”
And again I dropped the receiver. But I didn’t crush it like I did when I heard about Jimmy. I simply walked to the front door and left that very same minute.
Chapter Fourteen
Dahlia had naturally chased after me. I gave her a few clipped explanations and then left her in London. I arrived at my old home in Peavey just before nightfall.
“Why isn’t she in a hospital?” I said to my father when he told me my mum was in her bedroom waiting to see me.
“She doesn’t want to be in the hospital anymore,” Pops said. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “The doctors say she doesn’t have long and she wanted to be here. She’d been in the hospital for a long time. It’s not been a comfortable place for her and now that they can’t do anything else she wants to die at home.”
I slammed my fist into the wall. It stuck through the old plaster. My father just watched as I wrestled my hand back through the crumbling wall. He probably thought I was angry that my mum was dying. I was, but I was livid that I’d ignored his calls for all those months. “You should have tried harder to get ahold of me. I should have been with her,” I said, my words fuming.
“I did try, son,” he said, staring at the hole in the wall. A reminder of my blinding anger.
“You could have left a more detailed message on my machine.”
He shrugged. “It didn’t feel right and honestly she didn’t want you to know. She didn’t want to worry you at first. She thought she could beat it.”
I shook my head at my dad. “And how do you know she can’t!” I screamed.
“We’ve tried everything. The cancer has taken over,” Pops said, every word seeming to pain him to say.
“Why does it sound like you’re giving up?” I said through clenched teeth.
“Ren, she’s been through so much. So much pain,” he said, shaking his head. “Your mum doesn’t want to be put through any more.”
“Then we have to save her,” I said with conviction. “I’ll find a healer.” A Dream Traveler with the gift of healing had saved me when I was born. If I couldn’t find that person then I’d find another healer.
“It won’t work,” Pops said, shaking his head, undeniable defeat in his eyes. “They can’t help her. The cancer is too far spread. Healers’ powers don’t work on cancer. Not like this. I’ve already tried.”
Of course I should have realized Pops would have tried everything. He would never easily give up on Mum.
Cancer was a damn Middling disease. I fucking hate cancer. What a bloody prejudiced disease. It attacked Middlings by the millions, but didn’t exist for Dream Travelers. That was unfair. I knew some Dream Travelers who needed to shake hands with cancer.
“It’s worth trying again,” I said, convinced we could fight this. “Call a different healer. I’ll find the very best. How long do we have?” My words were irate, coming out in rapid succession.
Pops shook his head as I spoke. “No, Ren. It won’t work. Healers can’t save her. Nothing can.”
“Then what’s the fucking point?! What’s the point of any of this? What’s the point of having powers if we can’t use them? What’s the fucking point of having one another if we’re just going to allow each other to die when the time comes?” Spit flew out of my mouth, hot from the anger boiling my blood.
“I understand you aren’t used to not having control, son. But you can’t control this situation. Your mum is going to die. There’s nothing to be done about it.”
***
I hadn’t been back home in several years, too consumed with my wild antics and selfish ways. When I pushed Mum’s bedroom door back I almost didn’t recognize her as she lay in bed. Her red hair had grayed and dulled considerably. She was bone thin. Her face sunken in like she’d aged twenty years in the last three.
“Mum,” I said, slowly making my way to her bed. “I’m here now.”
“Renny,” she said in a frayed whisper. Her green eyes sparkled with a life I needed her to keep. But she wasn’t going to. I saw that as soon as I neared. Her eyelids drifted closed and didn’t part for several long seconds.
My pulse raced. Mum had always been strong. Working all day, never taking a break. She tirelessly looked after everyone in the family. And she put up with Lyza’s abuse, shouldering it like a seasoned soldier. But on her deathbed she looked tired and conquered by her years of service. And it made me utterly enraged. People like her didn’t deserve to wither away to a bloody disease. They deserved to grow older than an ancient oak tree and pass in their sleep on a fine summer night, not having felt a single pain in their body.
“Are you comfortable?” I said, looking around at her bed and the many bottles of pills on the nearby table.
She didn’t look the least bit comfortable when she spoke, but her words contradicted my observation. “I’m fine, Renny. Especially now that you’re here.”
“I am here and for as long as you need,” I said and just then I felt something strange in my throat. It was followed by the strangest prickling sensation behind my eyes. I blinked it away. “Is there something I can do for you?” I asked,
when I felt my voice was steady enough. It was a daft question but I didn’t know what else to say. An apology for being such an arse would have been a good start but that hadn’t occurred to me.
“Well, I wanted you here, so that’s the best thing you can do for me. Seeing my son’s face feels so good. It’s been too long, Renny. You’ve changed. But you are in your early twenties now, not a boy anymore,” she said, and the whole series of sentences took too long for her to say. Each word followed by a strained breath. But still I stayed listening, focused on her. “You look well, son.”
“Thank you, Mum,” I said and bowed my head. I wanted to punch another wall. I wanted to inflict pain on myself for having deserted my mum and pops for all these months. I didn’t know she was sick and that was not even a good excuse. It was just the truth. I would have known if I’d picked up the bloody phone when it rang, but my ego prevented it.
“And there is something else you can do for me,” Mum said, her voice scratchy like she was talking with sandpaper in her throat.
“Yes, whatever it is, I’ll do it,” I said, kneeling down beside her bed. A bitter smell hit my nose and I fought the urge to pull away from my mum’s bed. It was the smell of death. It was the smell of a person who sweated in a bed all day, waiting to die. I knew my father cared for her in those final days. Washed and cleaned her, but nothing could ever clean away the smell of death. It was in her, waiting to rot her bones.
“Renny, will you please get Lyza? Ask her to come and see me. I want to see her before it’s too late. She won’t answer your dad’s calls, but maybe she’ll talk to you,” Mum said and heat flared in my head. I’d been the ungrateful child who didn’t return my pops’ calls for months. And then there was also Lyza. My parents didn’t deserve such horrid children. They deserved children who came to call on them on Sundays and enjoyed an evening meal and gave them grandchildren. Instead they got us and we were heathens undeserving of their love and unwavering affection.
I bit down hard on my lip. “Yes, of course, Mum. I’ll bring her here straight away.”
“But Renny,” my mum said, laying her withered hand on mine. I instantly knew that she didn’t want me to make Lyza come here using mind control. She only wanted to see her of her own accord. My mum gave me these thoughts with such a raw determination behind them. It was beautiful the way she communicated to me using my gift. She was the only person I ever allowed to do it.
“You understand, my son?”
I nodded. “Yes, completely.”
I left her to lie like a prisoner in her bed and called Lyza right away.
My mum said I couldn’t use mind control to make Lyza visit her, but she hadn’t said that I couldn’t use it to get the witch on the phone. “You have to come home. Mum wants to see you,” I said to Lyza when she picked up after only one ring.
There was silence following my sentences. “Ren, this is why you called me?” my sister said, sounding annoyed. “To tell me our reject of a mother wants to see me? Did she put you up to this?”
“Lyza, she’s dying. She doesn’t have much longer,” I said.
A long silence followed.
Finally Lyza said, “Ren, she’s a Middling. Of course she’s dying. Middlings are weak. Die young. And now you expect me to drop everything I’m doing to see some lowlife who I’ve never really liked.”
“She’s your mum,” I said, straining to keep my anger in check. The seams were close to bursting. “You wouldn’t exist without her.”
“If it wasn’t for her then I wouldn’t be half Middling. Imagine how much more powerful I’d be if Father had mated with a Dream Traveler,” Lyza said.
“I’m more powerful than any Dream Traveler I’ve ever known, so your reasoning is faulty,” I said.
“You need to get out more because I’ve met a Dream Traveler who puts you to shame,” my sister said in her snotty tone.
“Let’s set a date so I can meet this fucking pansy. But first, you’re going to come home,” I said, my anger seeping through the cracks.
“No, Ren, I’m not. Let the old bag die. I don’t give a damn,” she said and then the line went dead.
After I put another hole in the wall I went back to my mum’s room and stood in the doorway. I wanted to tell her that Lyza said she wouldn’t be coming, but I couldn’t. I gave a false smile. “Lyza is on her way,” I said, and that was the first and only lie I ever told my mum. “She’s taking the next train.”
She raised her mouth, but it didn’t quite form a smile. “I knew she’d come around. You always had a way with people, even when you weren’t controlling them,” she said. “I always wanted you to see that on your own. You’re more powerful without your powers, dear Renny.”
My mum shouldn’t have been laid out in that bed. She should have been up and doing the normal chores that made her hum and smile for no obvious reason. She should have been up. But for a fault that belonged to God she was confined to a bed. Her body had given up on her. Given up on her prematurely because of the race that she was randomly assigned to. It was all wrong and with every moment it was making me too irate.
“Renny,” Mum called out, too much strain in her voice.
“Yes, Mum.”
“Lyza probably won’t make it here fast enough,” she said plainly. “But I’m grateful that she’s made the effort.”
I nodded, although I wanted to throw my head into the doorframe.
“Please pass along a message for me, would you?” Mum asked.
I regarded her for a long moment that seemed to etch my soul with black. “Yes, of course. What is it?”
“Tell her that I know I was never who she wanted me to be, but I loved her for everything that she was. Tell her she’s exceptional, and capable of incredible things. Tell her that I will always watch over her,” my mum said, with a fondness that my sister didn’t deserve.
I swallowed. “Of course, Mum,” I said, nodding my head. “I’ll tell her verbatim.” Those words would never come out of my mouth and Lyza absolutely would never hear them. She’d hear the opposite. She’d hear what her blackened soul deserved to hear. But she wouldn’t be granted love that she’d throw away. She didn’t deserve our mother’s love. Not when she was hatched and not now.
“And also, I need you to know something,” Mum said, her voice so tired and slow. “It’s nothing much but I want to pass it along to you.”
I clung to the doorframe like it was a bloody pacifier. “Yes?”
“Second chances don’t ever, ever come along. You go and seize them,” she said.
“Why are you telling me that, Mum?” I said. “That’s such a strange thing to say out of the blue.”
“Because you, Renny, I know with all the faith bestowed upon my heart, will need so many second chances in life. It’s hurt at times to think of the road God gave you when he made you so powerful. It’s not your fault,” she said, shaking her head against her pillow. “And still the burden is absolutely yours. I’m sorry, my dear son. If I could have one wish in all these seventy years then it would be to take away my son’s powers so he could be happy. And yet I know that wish will never come to pass. Your battle is to find happiness after being who you are, a greater being than most. I’m sorry, son. I know it hasn’t been easy to find happiness with a mind that can do what yours can.”
I looked down at her, wanting to open my heart to her and also knowing it was impossible to do it. There would be no tears. There would be no counseling. I wasn’t deserving of those things. “You must be tired,” I said. “I’ll let you rest.” I turned and headed for the main room.
“What I didn’t say,” she said in an almost whisper. I turned and regarded her with a half glance. “Is that even though I can’t guarantee my son’s happiness, I want him to know he’s given it to me. I can’t tell you how many times you’ve given my life meaning because the occasions have been too numerous. As a baby you smiled and that was enough. But then you became a child and your acts of selflessness were incredibly in
spiring. And you came into your gifts and I felt like a goddess to have been your mother. You, Reynold Lewis, have been a true joy to raise. Most won’t understand you. Most will be afraid of you. But the ones who embrace you will understand what I saw on the day I stared at you after thirty-six hours of being in labor. You, Renny, are more than exceptional. You are unique. There will never be another Ren Lewis. And that’s why God gave you such impossible talents. Because you were meant to do things humans shouldn’t. I’m sorry, son. That is your talent and your curse.”
I walked forward until I was at her bedside. Then I kneeled over and pressed my lips against her forehead. “I love you, Mum,” I said in a hoarse whisper.
“I love you always, Renny,” she said, pressing her eyes closed.
I turned at once and left, closing the door to her room. In the morning she was dead and I didn’t say a word for that whole day.
Chapter Fifteen
Dahlia was by my side at my mum’s funeral. It was the first time a celebrity was in Peavey. Probably the last. After that she offered to halt her tour but I refused to allow her. I told her what I really needed was space and time to process. I sent her back to London and stayed in Peavey for a few weeks to help Pops sort through Mum’s stuff. He didn’t want to do it at first but I knew that having her possessions staring him in the face every bloody morning wasn’t going to help him mourn. He was seventy and would live another thirty or forty years easily. It’s another reason why Dream Travelers rarely pick a Middling as a partner. We are guaranteed to outlive them by a few decades at the very least. And now my father had a lifetime to live without the love of his life.