Worlds Between

by Sherry D. Ficklin

  He stops, but doesn't turn around. The soft evening breeze lifts his hair and it stirs around his neck. “It did. It does. I... I just... need time.”

  I watch him grow smaller as he guns his bike and peels out of the parking lot.

  “You don't have time,” I whisper to myself.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  ~A Broken Heart~

  Alisa

  I've never been dumped before. A raw, open slice through my soul has left me unsteady and aching.

  I don't know how to fix this.

  Brecken obviously needs some time alone, and so do I, but the longer I dwell on my situation, the worse I feel. I decide to look for my brothers. They need me too, and if I can help fix their screwed up situations, maybe it will take my mind off of mine.

  I picture Tyler's face in my mind, the light brown of his milk-chocolaty eyes, and his dusty-blond hair with the cowlick in back that makes it always stick up. My heart aches for him, all alone with no one to support him.

  Ever since he and Derek walked out on my mom, things have felt disconnected. Where did Derek take Ty, who still needs his mother? He is too young to hang out with Derek's friends, too young to sit in on grownup conversations, and too young to be exposed to whatever Derek has started with his new rebellion.

  Tyler needs someone to hold him when he cries, to ask about his day, to comfort him when hopelessness surrounds him like a pack of ravaging wolves, and I don't trust Derek to do that anymore.

  Within seconds, I appear at Ty's side. He sits on the back porch of a house that seems vaguely familiar to me, but I can't place it. I sit next to him and gaze at his drawn face, but I'm unable to tell what he feels just by looking at his somber expression, so I place my hand over his.

  Feelings of loneliness drift over me, but aren't overwhelming. Ty is sad, but not despondent like before. With a sigh, I look up at the blue afternoon sky. This peaceful moment, holding my brother's hand, is just the medicine I need, and hopefully what Ty needs too.

  After a moment, the glass door behind us slides open. A woman I recognize as Derek's best friend's mom steps out with two full glasses of lemonade.

  “Here you go, sweetie.” She hands one to Tyler.

  “Thanks,” he answers quietly.

  She sits on the step next to him and sips her drink. “It's a nice day, isn't it?”

  “Yeah.”

  She looks into his eyes. A sparkling love radiates there. “I spoke to your Dad today. He says your mom is doing great and getting better fast. He's glad you're here with us, and so am I.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Tyler answers. “But I miss my family.”

  “I know,” she says, nodding and staring out into her backyard. “It's hard, but you'll get through it, Tyler. You're a wonderful, smart boy. But it will take time.”

  “I guess.” He bows his head. “I wish Alisa were here.”

  His comment pierces my heart like an arrow, and I put my arm around him, willing him to know that I am here, loving him and missing him too.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “Alisa's death is a terrible thing. I'm so sorry it happened.”

  “Me to,” Tyler says, staring at his untouched lemonade.

  I hate hearing this. I can't seem to escape the repercussions of my terrible decision. Oh, to go back in time, to change the course of events, to be with my family. And yet, I take each guilt-ridden barb into my heart. I deserve to hear this—deserve to feel the pain I've caused. I welcome the torture of Tyler's words. Maybe saying them out loud will help him heal. If I can suffer that for him, even for a moment, I will gladly.

  “Didn't she care about me?” he asks suddenly. Tears well in his eyes and threaten to spill over his reddening cheeks. His voice breaks and he tucks his head into the circle of his arms, hiding his face.

  “Oh, honey.” Mrs. Reynolds sets her glass down and takes him in her arms. “I'm sure she did, but from what Derek said, she was taking medicine that made it hard for her to feel good or to think things through.”

  A sob escapes him and he leans into her, still hiding his face. After a moment, Ty's tears slow, and he sits up, wiping his face.

  Mrs. Reynolds gives him another squeeze, then picks up her drink and takes a sip. “It'll all be okay,” she says. “Your mom is getting help, and everything will go back to normal.”

  Tyler glances at her and nods, but I can tell he doesn't agree.

  Things will never be normal again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  ~A Bad Plan~

  Alisa

  For two weeks, Brecken and I hardly speak. He is on his best behavior: no stealing, no smoking, no swearing. He doesn't even go out with Jill during that time. I have no reason to lecture him, influence him, or correct him on any bad behavior. I don't do much but follow him around. I start wondering if maybe there is nothing left for me to do here. Maybe my job is over. If so, why am I still here? Why hasn't Raphael pulled me back to Idir Shoal?

  I flit back to Tyler often, and he begins to improve. A smile returns to his face, and he becomes friends with Mrs. Reynolds other son, Gavin, who is only a couple years older.

  I visit my mom as often as I can, and one time I overhear the doctor say she can go home soon. Everything seems to be turning around.

  One evening, as twilight approaches, I sit on a park bench with Brecken, watching Heidi and Sophie play on the swings. Dramatic brush-strokes of pink and orange paint the sky as the sun sets behind the rounded hills, and a soft breeze blows. Relaxed, I find myself releasing the tension I've been feeling around Brecken.

  Things have come to a place where we can communicate again. Kind of. Which is good because I still haven't told him about the vision I saw in Raphael's office. The time is just never right. But I have high hopes that we'll soon broach the subject.

  Like right now.

  “Can we please just sit without talking,” he says before I can get one word out.

  For a moment, I almost acquiesce, but the time for procrastination has passed. It's now or never. “Isn't that what we've been doing for the last two weeks?”

  He doesn't answer.

  “Breck. We need to talk.” I scoot closer to him, within touching distance... because being close to him somehow soothes me—and I hope him too.

  He glances over and shrugs in a whatever kind of way and goes back to watching his sisters.

  I take a deep breath and clear my throat. It's an old habit. “You need to know that something really bad lies ahead and I'm worried.”

  “Something bad always lies ahead.” He stares right through me, his gaze hard, cold, and frustrated. “That's just a given for me.”

  “Is it?”

  He shakes his head, his jaw flexing. “Of course. Why else would you even be here, Babysitter?”

  I turn to watch the girls, mulling over his statement. Why is everything so hard with him? Why does everything feel like a battle? Why is it I can't get through, can't explain my feelings, can't understand his?

  I shift uncomfortably.

  He seems to sense my frustration because his eyes soften and the sun sparkles deep through his blue irises, unfathomable, like a bottomless ocean abyss. “All right,” he whispers. “Let's talk. You go first.”

  “Chicken,” I say with a chuckle. At least he is warming up. It is a step in the right direction. If he is willing to forgive me for running away all the time, I am willing to forgive him for stomping all over my heart. Over and over again.

  “Let's go inside so I can see you better.” He holds out his hand and I take it, the tingle of his touch tickling my fingers. Even though I'm sure he can't really feel me, I enjoy his fingers brushing through mine. I follow him inside to the living room.

  One lamp glows in the corner and the TV is muted. The drawn curtains block the evening sun, and darkness blankets the room. We sit on the couch and face each other, my mind racing.

  “I see you,” he whispers, inhaling deeply. “And I love the way you smell. Like cinnamon rolls on Sunday
morning.” Back to the old Brecken I love. He tries to take my other hand unsuccessfully, and clears his throat. The smile he beams at me fills my heart, and I can't stop smiling either. “Alisa, I've changed my mind. I want to go first. Okay?”

  I nod, wondering what he feels compelled to say to me after two weeks of self-inflicted solitary confinement. I pray it isn't something that will ignite another argument.

  “I've been thinking pretty seriously about something. I know I've been weird these past two weeks, but I've been trying to decide what to do.”

  “Okay.”

  “When you came, something inside me clicked. I didn't want to admit it, and I'm still not sure what it is, but I'd lived without it for a very long time. It's hard to change and I have reflex habits that are difficult to let go of, but I want to try. Finally, I want to try, if you can be patient with me.”

  His words send a thrill through me, tingling from the inside out. The zing feels undeniably wonderful.

  “My life... this life I'm living, seems like a dream, and sometimes a complete waste of time, especially with all the other guardians they've sent, but you are different than any of them. I felt it immediately.” He tries to squeeze my hand, but his fingers pinch together instead.

  I squeeze back.

  “I have an aunt who lives a half hour away. I'm going to take Heidi and Sophie there. She'll be a great mom to them and will really love them. She has wanted us to come live with her for a long time.”

  “Oh, Brecken. That's so great! I'm so happy. The girls need a mother and with your dad gone so much... not that you aren't doing a great job, but, you know.”

  “Yeah. That's what I thought, too. They'll love it there. She even has a swimming pool.”

  Brecken scoots closer and puts one arm around the back of the couch so I am enclosed in his arms. It feels so right, but a battle rages in my heart. No matter how much I pretend, I can't have this boy. No matter how much I wish it, he can't have me. I'm dead. He's alive. This little play we're enacting will end.

  He leans forward, the shadows of the room playing across his face, his eyes appearing like dark, glossy pools of mystery. “Alisa, I want to be with you. I know I was mean when you first told me about killing yourself, and I'm sorry, but it got me thinking. Dying can be fast and over quickly. Families move on in time. I've seen that firsthand. What I'm saying is... well, I have everything planned, and I want you with me the entire time.”

  I lean away to better read his expression. “Wait. What?”

  He continues in a heated rush. “We'll have to wait until we get back from my aunt's, but tonight's the night.” He smiles, his eyes filled with hope as he watches me.

  “Maybe I'm slow,” I say. “But are you telling me you want to kill yourself?”

  He sits back, his brows pulled together, the corner of his mouth lifting in question. “You, of all people, should understand.”

  His comment stings just a bit. “You can't do this. Why would you? Especially when you were so awful to me about it? You can't really mean to...”

  “Why not?” He gets up and walks around the table, his hands gesticulating as he paces. “We would be together. There's nothing here for me anymore. I'm tired of trying to hide who I am. I want—”

  “Brecken. Stop. You can't kill yourself!” I jump up and hurry over to him. “It doesn't work like that. We'd never get to be together. Ever.” I stare hard into his eyes, holding both his hands. “And what about your sisters? They need you.”

  He backs away. “No they don't. They don't even like me. They pretty much ignore everything I say. It wouldn't disrupt their lives in any way.”

  “Oh, Brecken, it would. You have no idea how much your life impacts theirs. And what about your dad? He needs you. Do you have any idea what this would do to him? First he lost his wife, and then you?” I can’t believe these words are coming from my mouth. They sound so mature, so responsible, tumbling from my hypocritical lips.

  He plops down onto the La-Z-Boy, his hands cradling his head. “I'm just so tired.”

  I kneel before him, wishing more than anything I could take him in my arms and make him forget his misery. I wish so much I could have met him long ago when I was still alive.

  So much opportunity wasted.

  “I know, Brecken. I felt the same way once. I truly did.” I try to smooth back his hair, but my fingers brush right through the silken strands, impotent.

  He gazes at me, wearing an expression of hopelessness. “I need to go.” He stands, walks to the table, and grabs his car keys. “My aunt is expecting the girls by four.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  ~Determined to Die~

  Brecken

  Brecken can’t believe Alisa's reaction to his plan. He thought she'd be excited, that she'd want to be with him too, on a heavenly plane. But maybe she's right. Maybe it doesn't work like that. But it doesn't make him feel any better. In fact, he feels stupid and embarrassed about the whole thing. He shouldn't have told her. He should have just gone done it and let it be a surprise.

  They drive in silence to his aunt's house, Sophie, babbling to herself as she plays with little animal toys. Heidi mostly stares out the window—like always—with a bored expression, ear buds in her ears, music blaring.

  “You should turn that down,” he says, waving his hand in front of her face to catch her attention.

  She glances at him and shrugs, ignoring his suggestion.

  It's typical of the way Heidi treats him. She doesn't like him. She'll be glad he's gone and won't care at all. Sophie is the only one who might feel bad, and he'll miss her and her cute, childish imagination, her sweetness.

  Alisa sits in the back with Sophie, not saying anything. What does she know anyway? She can only judge from her own experiences. She has no idea how he feels, what he is going through, what his outcome will be.

  He still hasn't broken up with Jill and if he takes himself out now, he won't have to. That would solve one problem. It just doesn't seem important to continue on. His dad doesn't care—as far as he knows. His mom is the only one who truly loved him, and now she is gone.

  She never came back to see him after her death, and he fully expected her to. It's a huge disappointment. She knew of his “gifts” and he'd thought for sure, she of all people, would come back. Maybe she didn't love him like he thought. His heart aches with that possibility.

  Everything is just too hard. Every morning when he wakes up, it takes monumental effort to get out of bed. His life is falling apart and he's starting to have nightmares again, just like he had as a child.

  In these terrifying dreams, he is always on a fiery battlefield, surrounded by hellish fiends, his heart torn with guilt—as though he has betrayed his friends. And the fear...

  He doesn't know what he's done to warrant such feelings. He wakes up exhausted and terrified. Brecken hasn't told anyone about the dreams, and he isn't about to. People think he is crazy enough as it is.

  No. Suicide is his best option.

  His miserable life can end, and Alisa will forgive him just like he forgave her.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  ~Forever Battling~

  Alisa

  Brecken doesn't say one word to me after we drop off the girls. We come straight home, and he jumps out of the car, storming toward the house.

  “Brecken, wait!” I stand in front of him. “I thought we decided suicide wasn't an option.” I walk toward him as he fingers his keys. His eyes are wet, red, and horribly sad.

  “That was your conclusion. Not mine.”

  He barrels through me. The rush of him fills me for a split second, but it's long enough to take my breath away, figuratively speaking. Every bit of matter—or whatever souls are made of—melds with him. For a moment, we become one, and that rush consumes my entire being.

  I can't help but gasp and fall to one knee. I want to cling to that moment, but before I can even blink, he moves on, and I'm left empty. A vacuum.

  Did he feel the sa
me surge? The same emotion? The same... merging? Did he feel anything at all? Dizzy, my mind spins in a million directions.

  “Brecken,” I gasp, pulling myself up to face him, feeling like I will hyperventilate at any moment. “I want you to be happy. Of course I'd love to spend forever with you, but the only way to make that happen is for you to live your life and die the right way.”

  He searches my face, looking breathless himself. His chest heaves and the pain in his eyes beseeches me to understand. “Maybe this is the right way... for me.” He reaches out, but there is nothing for him to hold but thin air. His hands fall to his sides. “Maybe this is my destiny. Maybe it's supposed to happen like this. Just like you dying was meant to happen so we could meet.”

  “Brecken. Listen to what you're saying. I wasn't meant to die. I was meant to live, to get married, and to have a family. I screwed it all up. One-hundred percent. We weren't meant to meet like this.”

  His expression falls and he turns away. “Then maybe nothing is meant to be. Maybe there's no purpose and everything's just an accident, and if that's the case, what's the point?”

  I don't have an answer. I'm still confused myself. How can I possibly explain life and death when I am just as lost as he is?

  Before I have a chance to say anything else, Brecken's cell phone rings. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who it is. I hear her pouty, falsetto voice clear over on the other side of the room.

  “Hey, Jill,” Brecken says when he answers. After a pause, he glances over at me. “Uh, I don't know. I'm kind of busy tonight.” He's quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I know. Okay, I guess.”

  More jabbering from Jill.

  “All right. But only for an hour. Yeah. I think so too.” He holds the phone to his ear with a pained expression, and then glances at me. The conversation continues to drag on.

  “No, everything's fine,” he says. “Yeah, okay. Six o'clock. I'll be there. Bye.”