Annabeth Neverending (16 page)

What Sethe did for me in another life was many moons ago, but C. J. is helping me now. How can I not be loyal to him? How can I not feel for him because of it? The memories are slightly fragmented, but the message is clear. Sethe and I…C. J. and I are meant to be together.

I put the final touches on the filaments of a feather. I’m painted out. I’ve fully exhausted my internal hieroglyphic storage facility, and the side effect has dissipated, gone at last.

“All done!” I announce and descend from the ladder. I turn to C. J., and he’s at my side before I have a chance to blink.

He’s boring into my eyes with his own. “Do you ever wonder where your interest in Egypt came from?”

“Sometimes.”

“Annabeth, I don’t know how to say this. But, when we’re together, I experience some serious…déjà
you
.”

I take a step back to really look at him, so I can fully process this, so I can truly take this in.

“What are you saying, C. J.?”

“I feel like I’ve loved you before. In fact, I know that I have.”

C. J. takes me and lifts me into the air. When he sets me down, we look at each other as though for the first time. The only time that has ever mattered. That ever will matter.

16

I
’m connected to C. J.
—
to Sethe
—
in the same way he’s connected to me? Destiny keeps drawing us together on purpose, crossing our paths again and again, interweaving our fates. And it’s time for me to finally surrender. I want to be with him. No matter how many black sorcerers may step in and try to intervene.

I can no longer let the remnants of my feelings for Gabriel linger, threatening to destroy all my joy. Yes, Gabriel is handsome and smart and kind, but the fact that he’s a modern permutation doesn’t erase what he did to me in the past, even if he doesn’t know he did it. I’ll always regret hurting him, but then again, he was the one who ended things.

I step closer to C. J., wanting to be as near to him as possible. He takes my hand and holds it tightly.

“I’ve had weird bursts of memory. Just little pieces of this and that. Sand. Palm trees. Pyramids. You. Have you seen anything?”

I don’t want to rub in the fact that I haven’t just tapped into my memories but experienced them, relived them. Yet I want him to realize the depth of what I know.

“Yes. You were a slave, but even though you were forced to endure an existence of subservience, you rose above it. You were a hero. A champion. And you risked your life to be with me, to love me,” I say slowly, wanting to get it out just right.

“That’s a lot to absorb,” he says thoughtfully.

“You’re disappointed?” I ask, surprised.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me sooner,” he stammers, his hazel eyes now obstructed by crossed brows.

“I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

“Is it because you prefer the me I used to be?” C. J. asks, his voice wavering.

“No! I like the current you. The present
-
day you. You have to know that,” I say firmly. Desperately.

“Then why did you wait so long to say anything? You must have doubts about me. You must think that I don’t measure up,” he says, looking off into the distance.

I can’t win. One brother wishes he never knew; one wishes he’d known sooner.

“No. It’s just…Part of me thought you’d fight fate. Who’d want an entire life that was predetermined?”

“But if it’s destiny, doesn’t that mean that it’s right?” C. J. asks fervently.

I consider telling him that the ankh is what brought on my memories, but I hold back. I don’t want to push it, considering what I’ve laid on him already. Lies of omission are permitted in relationships, I decide, at least when dealing with things that are this unusual. “Probably.”

C. J. looks upset. Like any answer other than yes is the wrong one. “I like to think that life is a balance of destiny
and
free will,” he says, a smile forcing his lips apart so his Chiclet teeth can be better displayed.

“I sure hope so,” I reply.

“Annabeth, I know you had
—
or maybe still have
—
feelings for my brother. But I hope you’d consider giving me a chance. Us a chance. And not just because it’s fate or destiny but because you think you could really care for me.”

I nod, too caught up in my emotions to articulate them.

“Good. I may never remember what you do, but I already know all I need to know.”

Movies are usually reserved for special occasions in my family because of the high cost of a ticket, but instead of punishing me for painting on the house, the next evening I’m rewarded with a trip to the cinema. This smacks of ulterior motives, though I’m not sure what my parents’ angle could possibly be. I don’t press them when we head over to the theater, even though I’m skeptical.

I haven’t been to the multiplex since my job hunt began only a few months before
—
though it seems like a decade ago now. Way back when, I tried hard to get a job here; it’s the most sought
-
after part
-
time gig you can get
—
free popcorn, soda, admission, polyester tuxedo (not the biggest selling point). But I was turned down on numerous occasions. Yet somehow life doesn’t seem to be nearly as cruel to C. J. as it is to me in the present day, because apparently C. J. landed a position there with minimal effort. His fortunes have certainly changed from one lifetime to another.

I anxiously rock back and forth on my heels while I watch him through the large glass windows. C. J.’s stationed behind the cashier, next to the usher’s stand, dressed in his black tux with shiny lapels and a red satin clip
-
on bowtie. We enter and walk toward him. He takes our tickets and motions us inside.

“If he really likes you, he would’ve gotten us comped,” says Howie under his breath as we enter the lobby.

“You suck,” I say, roughly ruffling his hair.

We all go into the screening room to grab our cushioned seats, and after about twenty minutes, I tell my parents that I’m in dire need of a soft pretzel and a white cherry slushy. I have to practically run out the double doors so Howie doesn’t follow me, though I fear that if I take too long talking to C. J., he’ll suddenly make an unwanted attempt to track me down.

The lobby is empty save a few stray employees who are cleaning up discarded candy and popcorn residue before the nine o’clock rush begins. I approach the concession stand and wait there, hoping to catch sight of C. J. without looking like he’s the reason behind it. So I keep adding item after item to my order. If he doesn’t show up soon, this is going to cost a fortune. Luckily, it isn’t long before I feel a finger tap me on my shoulder.

“Would you mind filling out a comment card?” C. J. asks while handing a printed piece of card stock to me.

“Sure. You did do an excellent job tearing my ticket.”

I take the comment card and walk over to an empty part of the concession
-
stand counter, sandwiched between the straw container and napkin dispenser. I pull a pen out of my purse and write down responses to the preprinted questions. I’m so lost in the act of making my answers sound nice but not overly gushing that it takes me several moments to notice that C. J. is standing next to me, filling out his own.

“Sometimes, I like to rate the customers.”

“Uh
-
oh.”

C. J. hands me his card before I even have the chance to finish mine. I look it over and feel heat rise to my cheeks and neck. I probably look as red as a boiled Casco Bay lobster. I see that C. J. crossed out all the category titles like “courteousness” and “knowledge of job” and put new ones like “awesomeness” and…“hotness”?

I feel myself blush again, especially when I see that he rated me a “10” in every department. At the notes section on the bottom of the card, I read in a carefully looping scrawl, “Will you go out with me?”

“Can I think about it for a while?” I say lightheartedly.

“Sure,” C. J. says, without a second thought.

“I’m kidding! I’m done thinking. Yes.”

I traipse back into the theater and grab my seat. The movie started, but I don’t watch a second of it. The images flash before me, but they mean nothing, convey nothing. There’s no way that what’s up on that screen can rival what’s going on in my real life. My real lives.

Here we are, at the beginning. When everything is shiny and new and as close to perfection as it will ever be. And we can establish our relationship based on the modern C. J. and not color it with the past Sethe variation. It’s spine tingling having our whole relationship ahead of us.

He’s in my town, in this lifetime. No matter how intense the memories I had were for Sethe, they were all secondhand, and that’s only a prized quality when it comes to antiques. Every experience I have with C. J., every memory we make together, will be all the more dear to me because it will be my own
—
Annabeth’s own.

Maybe there were some horrible missteps, hurt feelings, and even a mugging along the way, but right now I’m with my perfect match. Surely my classmates are wondering who he is…and why he’s with me. Is he out of my league? Yes. But they don’t know what league I used to play in.

Then the darkness encroaches. Gabriel will be so hurt.

But I just need to remind myself that Kha betrayed me then, and I suppose I should feel a little justified in betraying him now, but I don’t. No matter how I may try to justify it. Nonetheless, I need to move forward. I don’t just owe it to myself, but I owe it to Ana.

Now I’ll take the path of least resistance. I’ll allow myself to fall in love with C. J. in the present day. And in time, I’ll get that kiss. My lips are hungering for it. Crying out for it. Gabriel and I never got to first base because we weren’t supposed to play the game together at all. But C. J. and I are going to participate, all right. And someday, we’ll round home.

I knock on the door of the projection room. It’s dark because the film is playing; the only light that can be seen is rushing from the enclosed space and out into the theater. The
tick tick tick
of the celluloid stock grinds as it passes through the spokes of the projector. The lilting sound of the movie’s score rumbles up through the floor.

Silently, I slip to his side, where I fit like a missing puzzle piece. His arms find their way around me, and I feel like I’m encased in the warmth and safety of a cocoon. He lowers me to the floor. It isn’t comfortable, but who cares about that at a time like this? So long as he doesn’t let go.

We kiss. His tongue is probing, exploratory. I’m warm all over because our bodies are pressed together, and I can feel my breathing becoming shallower. Soon, I start letting out little groans of pleasure when he flicks his tongue along my jawline. I run my fingers through his dense hair with one hand and caress the back of his neck with the other.

He deftly feels his way through the darkness to unbutton my blouse, though his fingers can’t
—
won’t
—
move quickly enough. Impatient with the time it’s taking and tired of his fumbling, I slowly rip my top open. I can hear the buttons popping off one by one as they land on the floor nearby.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

He nips at my collarbone, and it seems like he’s about to make his descent. I hold my breath, wondering how far down he’s going to go. I want to be close to him, closer than I’ve ever wanted to be to any boy before. My defenses fall as my emotions heighten, threatening to erupt. I’m not sure I can hold onto my “purity” much longer.

“I love you, Annabeth,” he says softly.

The words are right, but the voice is very, very wrong. I gasp and pull myself out from under him. I stand up and back away, desperate to escape. He gets to his feet, and now I can see his face in the film projector’s translucent cone of light. But how can this be?

It’s Gabriel!

“Your turn,” he says insistently.

I can’t echo his sentiments. Not now.

“It’s your turn to go, Annabeth!” cries Kerry.

I shake my head, and I’m wrenched from my maddening daydream and restored to pompon practice, where my squad has been divided in half, so we can critique each other’s performances.

Poms can get tedious, but of all places, why did I go…there? My darkest carnal desires must have a life of their own. Don’t my nether regions realize that C. J. is the one I’m supposed to be fantasizing about?

I quickly try to eradicate my arousal by running through so many unsettling facts about ancient Egypt that it approximates a cold shower:

Ancient Egyptians used a mixture of honey and alligator dung as birth control.

Ancient Egyptians held dead mice to their teeth as a toothache cure.

Ancient Egyptians used crushed ants and carmine beetles for lipstick.

I’m thoroughly repulsed. The longing for Gabriel has passed.

But I’ve still got ancient Egypt on the brain. Once it takes hold, it doesn’t let go. Would the Egyptians have laughed at our dance? It’s hard to say, but I feel like they would’ve appreciated our slavish synchronicity (when I don’t ruin it) and our intricately choreographed movements.

And so I continue to follow the motions for the rest of practice until we’ve polished the remainder of the routine and are released. Surely I looked out of it, not altogether present during the run
-
through.