Book of Life (27 page)

I had my arm in the ice tray. “I dunno,” I answered dumbly, not really caring about the question as much as the awkwardness at hand. I was hyper-aware all of a sudden, aware of his every move, his every whisper of a thought I couldn’t make out. Was he thinking about me as I was him? My whole body tingled at the thought. All of a sudden, feelings I hadn’t noticed were forming, and it was making me uncomfortable. I opened the rag and dropped some ice inside it, reaching for more.

“Here we are. Found it.”

I heard the familiar tinkering of pills in a bottle. I would never escape the feeling that overcame me when I heard that.
“I hate that sound,”
I couldn’t help but murmur to myself.

“I can understand.” All of a sudden his voice was right beside me.

I jumped uncomfortably, dropping a cube of ice as it spun and slid across the floor. I turned, squeezed against the sink as the ice cube came to a stop under a cabinet opposite us.

He laughed. “Sorry.” Backing away, he held a large bottle of Tylenol in his hand.

I eyed it only briefly before rolling my eyes and continuing with my task. I gathered one last handful of ice and dumped it in the rag. I shut the freezer door and turned to face him. “This is weird.”

Jake shrugged. “Get used to it.”

“How?” I challenged. “I don’t think it’s working for me. I’m uncomfortable enough in my own skin to worry about this, too. I hate my life.” I sighed.

Jake’s brow rose. “You can’t hate your life, Emily. Things are going to get better. A lot has happened lately. It’s okay to feel the way you do. Believe it or not, it’s normal.”

From anyone else, those words would have angered me, but from Jake, it felt somewhat good. I knew it was another passing bout of depression I was in, but mixed with all the other current challenges of mine, it felt harsh and unbearable.

“The more time we spend together the more and more you’ll get comfortable with the facts. You’ll learn to live with them. I can promise you this. I’ve done it for years.”

I laughed mockingly. “I wouldn’t consider it successful. You used to sit and watch me sleep at night. I don’t see how that’s coping with the problem.”

“It was coping,” he retorted.

“Creepy coping,” I laughed back.

He laughed too. “Everyone has a creepy side at some point.” He winked at me behind his glasses.

I looked away. “So if you can see this aura all the time, as I don’t have glasses to hide it like you do, how do you keep from falling all over it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t. There are some addictions that are alright. Basking in your aura is harmless. I’m just subtle about it.”

I laughed again. “Because that doesn’t make me uncomfortable, or anything. How do you deal with Wes?”

“You mean how do I not get jealous? I just don’t. I know Wes is taking care of you. How could I hate someone who does that?”

I shrugged. Something about the way he said it suggested otherwise. It bothered him—he just knew there was nothing he could do about it. “We should get back.” I couldn’t stand the conversation much longer. Not now. Little bits at a time, that’s all I would be able to handle. The problem was I was addicted to his answers. He had a way of saying the right thing, and in the state I was in, I was willing to take that.

I gathered the ice into the rag and we made our way back upstairs. Entering the room, I handed Wes the rag. He took it from me without hardly a glance or a thank you. He quickly,
gently
, applied it to Stella’s forehead in a way that made me jealous. I felt cold toward him. How could I ever feel the way I had before knowing we weren’t true soul mates? Could I really fake it? Could I really make this work when it meant distracting Wes from finding his own true love?

WES:

Later that night I crawled into bed beside Emily. Flipping over and, not meaning to, turning my back on her. She sidled over and I couldn’t help but shut my eyes and hope she wasn’t looking for much from me tonight. I was tired. She put her arm over me, cuddling up against me in a casual way.

“We should cuddle,” she whispered, sounding tired.

She wasn’t looking for anything more than cuddling. I could tell by the tone of her voice. For this, I was grateful, though that felt wrong to think. There used to be a time when I couldn’t keep my hands off her, when all I wanted was to be close to her.

“Goodnight. I love you,” she added.

“I love you, too.” My mouth said it without thinking. What was wrong with me? I did love her, so why was I making a big deal out of this? We had been through a lot. This was what I kept telling myself. Right now there was a lot of baggage between the both of us, but in time that would tumble away and we could go back to the simple, fleeting feeling of love we felt before. It was normal for a couple to slowly settle into life together like this. Besides, I had Max’s assurance that Emily was the right girl for me, and Max was right about everything. He was an angel, how could he not be?

This train of thought had outrun Emily. I could tell by her slow, heavy breathing that she had fallen fast asleep. Her arm was still over my chest, trapping me in this position of which I no longer felt comfortable. I wanted to move, but I also didn’t want to wake her. As my arm began to go numb I gave up being coy and shifted my weight about. In her sleepy haze, Emily moved off me and onto her own side of the bed. I reclaimed my pillow.

She was still facing me, looking so quite in the darkness. Emily had changed considerably over the last week, losing a lot of the negative attitude and opting for a more positive outlook. I appreciated the change, but the way she had treated me for so long still stung. I was always one to hold a grudge as well as a feeling. It was this reason I was never really able to get over Jane.

Speaking of Jane, she had occupied a lot of my dreams this week. It was nothing harmful, just simple exchanges between old friends. Most of the time I’d imagined asking her how it was—wherever she was. I thought a lot about this place, this Ever After. Was it really what we expected? In my mind it was a wonderful place, but was that from my own experience with it or not?

An hour had now passed and I still wasn’t tired. Thoughts weaved together, preventing sleep and stealing time so fast, it was hard to keep track. Emily hadn’t moved, deeply rooted in whatever dream she was having. I shifted my weight again to test her level of sleep. This time, she didn’t rouse. Not having to shift into a mouse or cat in order to slither away, I rolled from bed and stood. Looking back, Emily remained.

I wanted a glass of milk.

I made my way into the hall and down to the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts and boxers. I opened the fridge to the bright light, wincing as my ever more animal eyes rebelled against it. Sarah had grown used to me being here as the man of the house, going so far as to buy my favorite brand of chocolate milk. I grabbed for the carton and drank some. It was mine after all. Aside from me, only Jane had a taste for chocolate milk, and she wasn’t here to enjoy it.

Just then there was a tapping on the kitchen window. It came along with the sound of the wind. At first I paid it no mind as I slowly took another swig and lowered the carton from my lips. I creased the top and placed it back into the fridge and shut the door. The room was dark again and my animal eyes quickly adjusted. There was another tap, this time louder and not on the heels of a gust of wintery wind. My eyes darted immediately in the direction of the sound. My heart reacted mildly, no longer as flighty given the fact that I had more confidence in my abilities to kick some serious butt if I had to.

At first I saw nothing through the white slats of the shades in the window above the sink. Then a gust of wind came, causing whatever it was to move. Curious, I drew closer, noticing the white and grey colors that danced in the breeze. It tapped again as I drew close. The tap was soft and without malice. The figure was hard to discern at first, given the choppy nature of the blinds. That was suddenly made obvious, however, when I found its eyes.

“Stella,”
I whispered harshly. What was she doing here, and most of all, what was she doing out of bed? With her head injury, we had all instructed her to stay put.

I walked to the side door a few windows down and unlocked the deadbolt. Stella fought against the chilling wind as she flew down to the threshold and gratefully came in. She hopped across the wood floor, creating a ruckus. I quickly, without really thinking, scooped her off the ground. Luckily, she didn’t protest much.

“What are you doing here?”
I hissed. There was no real point in asking as she couldn’t exactly reply, but it felt right to say.

Not knowing what to do with her, I quietly ducked into the garage and shut the door behind us. I found the light switch as the horrid neon bulbs flickered to life overhead. One remained flickering as it always did, adding a cheap ambiance to the already dank and admittedly cold space. I stood with my bare feet on the rug, looking around for something warmer to stand on. Across the garage, past Sarah’s car, was an old sofa. I made my way toward it as though stepping on fire, though it was quite the opposite. I sat on the couch, setting Stella down beside me. I pulled my feet up onto the cushions to get them off the cold floor.

Looking around me, there were a few old blankets stacked on some nearby shelves. I was able to reach for them as they toppled onto us. Without warning, Stella used this as an opportunity to change. Never able to get used to it, I was shocked as Jane suddenly sat before me, wrapped in blankets.

“What are you doing here?”
I tried again, though I knew she wouldn’t answer, but I was anxious. Here I sat in a freezing garage that wasn’t mine with a naked girl that wasn’t my girlfriend.

Her eyes grew wide, as though to say she wasn’t here to embarrass me, but the damage had been done.
“I don’t . . .”

I felt my whole body steel at the sound—the sound of her voice. It was like hearing a ghost.
“What?”
I gasped, forgetting my discomfort and the bitter cold.

She looked frustrated. “I
don’t
mean to scare you.” She seemed surprised by her own words. She looked at me, frightened, but also hiding her elation.

“You can
talk
now?” I asked, a little skeptical as to why it had taken her so long when it seemed to come out rather clear.

She nodded, and then shrugged. “Today. Just today I figured it out. It sort of . . . came to me.” Though her words were clear, her voice was a little hoarse, as would be expected.

“It just
came
to you?” I couldn’t get past the fact that if I forgot all that had happened this year, this girl in front of me would be Jane. She looked, and now sounded, no different. I had to remind myself with every second that passed that this was someone else entirely.

She nodded, pulling her arm from the blanket covering her and rubbing her eyes as though to suggest a headache.

“You shouldn’t have come here. Where’s Lacy? She was supposed to watch you tonight, keep you awake. You took a rather large blow to the head.” I tried to keep my distance. I didn’t need the guilt of comforting her coming back to bite me if, forbid, Emily should walk in.

She shrugged. “Lacy fell asleep. I came over here because I knew you’d be awake.”

“How did you know?” I accused.

She looked away. “I figured at some point you would be.”

I laughed. “How long were you sitting at the window?”

“Long enough,” she replied, not able to hide the smile.

I shook my head. “You’re insatiable, you know. You always were. I’m not sure I’m too excited that all that impatience can talk now, too.”

She tilted her head. “What was I like before?”

“In what form?” I snorted. “Jane or the owl?”

“Both.”

“Impatient.” I laughed. “I still don’t understand why you can talk. Why now?”

“I don’t know.” She didn’t seem too concerned by it. “I felt this overwhelming feeling of wholeness right before I stupidly fell off that stool. Since I woke up, I felt like I could talk. Like it was easy.”

I thought for a moment. “So, maybe it was the blow to the head?”

She shook her head. “No, I think it was more likely the event before that.” She eyed me as though to challenge my question. “Makes more sense given that falling off the stool was a reaction to this event, rather than the main event itself. Don’t you think?”

My brows rose. “I suppose. I guess the real question is why, though, and what event, exactly? Elaborate.” In the pit of my stomach I felt something dreadful, but I couldn’t figure out why I felt that way. Jane was already as dead as could be, there was nothing worse than that that could happen, right?

She rolled her eyes. “I was sitting on the stool when suddenly I felt hot. My hands began to burn, then my whole body. I felt this feeling of completeness. It was the strangest thing. I must have freaked out, tipping myself backward. The fall knocked me out. I guess, at least, I feel like a whole person now, even though I still don’t have much of a past.”