Insight (8 page)

I step out into the night air of Bangor, Maine. It’s dark, but Dad said he’s still driving the same ivory four-door Toyota so I’m not worried about finding him. I walk out to the curb and see the car immediately.

Dad looks older than his forty years. His hair is thinning, and he keeps it trimmed very short, not bothering to hide his bare head. He wears glasses—they’re thin and square-like, and he’s in a button-up shirt and khakis. Always. Like his uniform or something.

He stands out of the car. “Good to see you, Micah.” He hugs me without pulling us too close togeth
er, and it’s blissful blankness
as usual. And like I’ve been waiting for. Needing.

“You, too.” I smile a little as he steps away.

“Climb on in. Let’s get out of this traffic.”

I take my seat in the passenger’s side, and lean back to stretch my legs in front of me. Finally some real relaxation.

“Happy eighteenth.” Dad smiles wide. “You still against the whole birthday thing?”

I chuckle. “Pretty much, yeah. It’s just a day.”

“Well, I’ll take you shopping tomorrow anyway.” He shifts around in his seat, as we start moving. His hands grip the steering wheel with more than his usual relaxed way of driving.

“What’s up, Dad?”

“I…uh. I’m engaged.” I can see a smile start to form on his lips.

I sit up.
So much for relaxation.
“Wow. I didn’t know you were even…” I’m in total shock.

“I met her at work. She doesn’t work with me in the city planning department, but she’s in the same building.” He
steals a quick look my way
.

“So, is she living with you?” I realize my little vacation might not be much of a vacation if I’m tiptoeing around my dad and his fiancé.

“She is. But if it makes you uncomfortable, Micah, she can go back to her place for the few days you’re here.” He licks his lips—still nervous.

“It doesn’t bother me, Dad. It’s no big deal.” There’s no way I’m going to ask his fiancé to leave. I’ll just have to be a little more cheery and careful than I normally bother to be around Dad.

I see his shoulders, arms, and hands relax. “I think you’ll like her. She’s… Well, she’s pretty amazing.”

“Good.” I always wondered why neither of my parents had ever married. They certainly weren’t hung up on one another. Maybe it’s why I didn’t mind being alone as much as I should. They’re both loners, just maybe in different ways. Well, I guess neither are loners anymore.

Just me.

***

My dad’s house is beige and white. That’s it. Beige and white, inside and outside. He’s lived in the same house since I can remember. Dad opens the front door and holds it for me to walk in.

“We’re here!” he calls.

I don’t know now if I’m allowed to just go in like normal? Or if I should wait for Carol? My problem is solved when Carol walks around the corner. She has shoulder length caramel colored hair and a small round face with a petite nose. She’s not thin, but she’s not fat either. Just curvy.

“Carol, this is my daughter, Micah.” Dad smiles his pleasant smile. His business smile. He must be nervous again, which kind of cracks me up. Parents are just supposed to…
be
.

I brace myself for what I know is coming when I reach my hand out to shake hers.

My dad’s face. He’s sad. More than sad, desperate looking. Dark circles are under his eyes. He’s leaning over the railing of the hospital bed. He’s holding her hands. Exhaustion.

I look from my dad to her and back to my dad. What does this mean? Does she die? Is she sick? I want to throw up, and jerk my arm away with more force than I mean to. I’m usually better at hiding my emotions than this. I really have been around people too much. I’m still on edge.

“Micah?” Her voice floats out to me.

“Sorry, what?” It comes out in a rush of breath.

“I said it’s nice to finally meet you.” She’s looking at me with the same puzzled look that a lot of people do when I first shake their hand.

I don’t know my dad well, but my heart breaks a little for him. For whatever they’re about to go through together. “You too,” I whisper as I turn away. My eyes lock with Dad’s, and his stare holds something more than just looking at me. For the first time in my whole life, I think he might know something. He steps toward me and takes me in a hug. I see nothing, like always, and lean my head into his chest.

“I’m glad you made it all the way out here,” he says in my ear. It’s probably the most personal thing he’s said to me in my life.

I don’t want to let him go. He suddenly feels so safe—especially with all the visions I’ve been getting lately.

“I have some dinner saved for you.” Carol starts to the fridge.

Her voice brings me back to the present, and I step away from Dad. “Just an apple would be great.” I try to make eye contact. She needs to know I’m okay with her being here. Or, at least I’m trying to be. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome.” Her face relaxes back into a smile. She’s pretty and probably younger than Dad. Everything about her feels soft—her eyes, her hair, her smile, her shape. She opens the fridge and pulls out an apple.

“I’m ready.” I hold my hands in the air. I’m
not
ready to see that picture again. I don’t want to risk being touched.

“Oh.” She pauses before tossing it over the kitchen island toward me.

“Thanks.” I hold it up before taking a bite.

“Your mother.” Dad shakes his head. “I’m guessing that’s where you get your love of apples from.”

“I guess.” I take a huge bite from the side.

Dad walks around the counter to
put an arm around Carol’s
waist, and she relaxes into him. He looks at her in a way that makes my heart feel like it’s being squeezed. I’m happy he’s happy, but it also makes me wonder if I’ll ever be able to be close to someone like that.

He keeps her hand as he steps away, and I’m jealous of something I can’t imagine being a part of.

“Will you two think I’m horribly rude if I crash?” Carol asks. She turns toward me, and then Dad.

“I’m pretty wiped.” I take another bite. It’s only about eight my time, but eleven for them. I also need to come up with some kind of plan to keep my distance from Carol
without seeming weird
.

“Night.” Dad gives me a half wave, raising his hand only slightly. But he looks hesitant, as if he’s afraid to move.

I take my apple and pack and walk into the small room Dad has set aside for me. It’s unchanged from my last visit. White sheets, white comforter, beige carpet, beige walls. I have a few books I left from my trip on the small desk, but that’s the only personal thing in the room. My bag slides to the floor, and I flop to sitting on the edge of the bed.

Carol’s contented sigh comes through my door as she and Dad pass my doorway. When my eyes close, I see her horrible picture again. What puts her in the hospital, and why do I have to know about it? Why do I have to know about my Dad’s upcoming sadness when I can’t do anything about it? Why did I have to see Lacey? Why did my vision from Mom get all weird white and black before going back to normal? Why do I see myself from Landon making me maybe want something that’ll never happen? And what on
earth
is up with the vision I saw from Steven?

My life is officially a disaster.

***

Burying myself in every blanket I can find doesn’t help with the cold. Maine is a different kind of cold—both damp
and
frigid. I give up, wrap a blanket around my shoulders, and walk into the kitchen. Maybe some hot chocolate will warm me up.

Dad is on the couch, in the dark, staring at the fire in the stove. I stop at the end of the hallway, unsure if I want to continue. His head jerks my direction as I take a step backward.

“Come sit.” He’s quiet and
staring
. His eyes are wary, and he almost leans away as I walk toward him.

I sit on the opposite end of the couch from Dad, mimicking his odd motions. My palms are suddenly sweaty, and every nerve’s on edge.

Our eyes lock, but I don’t know what to say to him, and he doesn’t speak. I pull my knees up and wrap the blanket around them, holding my legs tightly against me.

“You…um…” His eyebrows pull down, and he rubs his hand over his chin several times. “Don’t think I’m crazy for what I’m about to ask, okay?”

I freeze. Does he know? Is it the same for him? Does he have answers? Do I want them if he does? My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out the crackling of the fire.

“You see. Like when you touch someone.” He leans forward, and rests his elbows on his knees, clutching his hands together tightly.

I nod my chest tightening to the point where I have to consciously pull in a breath.

“Wow.” He sits back in his seat and takes a breath out. “That’s why I see nothing when we touch.” He brings his hand to his chin and rubs it a few times with his fingers.

“You?” I hold my breath, waiting for his response.

“Ever since I can remember.” His voice is soft, mumbled. He’s looking at the fire, not at me.

“Why didn’t you ever
say
anything!”
And help me feel like I’m not completely alone?
So many thoughts slam into my at once that I can’t form a coherent thought. Much less a sentence.

“Who have you told, Micah?” His brows rise slightly, and his eyes fill with sympathy. How many years has he carried his secret?

“But you’re my dad!
” I sputter.
“
Shouldn’t you have watched me or something? Helped me out?”

“Shh.”
He frowns
, and  the sadness spreads across his body, which further hunches forward
. “I’m sorry. I guess… Yes. I should have asked you, or watched you more carefully. It’s that it’s only you and I when we’re together, and…” he trails off, maybe knowing he messed up. I’ll cling to that explanation.

“I tried to tell Mom once when I was about five, but the way she reacted made me know it wasn’t normal. I’ve never said anything to anyone.” The questions are flooding my head so fast I can’t make sense of them. Dad does this. He gets it. He understands.

“I can’t answer any questions. I don’t know.” He shakes his head.

My chest caves. He has no answers. We’re like two people who can do nothing more than empathize. “But you have to know
something
, Dad.”

“I don’t know what to do with this bizarre thing I do. It tortures me more often than not.”

All the visions I’ve gotten since moving start to push into my head. Lacey, the principal, from Steven. “The emotions are overwhelming.”

Dad’s head cocks to the side. “You feel, too?”

I nod.

His face falls a bit. “I’m sorry, Micah. I just see through the person’s eyes. I can’t imagine
what it’s like to feel
.”

I blink back a few tears and shake my head.

“I keep seeing Carol…” He sighs.

“Me too.” The memory of the vision is clear in my head. It’s awful. And then it hits me again. I
share
this with someone. He gets it. And he gets me on a whole different level.

Dad scoots to my side of the couch. His hand is on my arm.  His fingers grasp my bicep with tight urgency. “What do you see?”

“I saw your face, looking sad. Her arms and a hospital bed.” I don’t want to remember.

He shakes his head. “You can do better. Find the details.”

“
What
?” I’m always trying to block out what I see.

“Things can be changed, Micah. I just need some details.” His voice is pleading.

“What do you mean,
changed
?”
Don
’t tell me that I can
change things for people. Please. I already feel too responsible.

“If I know she’s hurt in a car accident, maybe I can do something to prevent it. If she’s stricken with some odd disease, maybe I can learn about it now so I can prevent it. I don’t know!” I’ve never heard my dad so animated. He’s desperate.

“I don’t know how to get details, Dad.” Now that I’ve finally found someone who knows, who
does
this
, who understands a part of me that no one else does
—I’m going to let him down. And it’s my dad. My gut drops.

“Just pay attention
tomorrow. W
hen you touch her. Look closely. Check her wrist. The hospital, any equipment…
Maybe you’ll see something I don’t. Maybe you’ll get an angle I haven’t…”

“You really love her.” He loves her, and he touches her, and she doesn’t know. It can be done. A whole new flood of relief fills me.
I’m not alone. He found a way to be with someone.

He nods. “It’s the only time I’ve ever been thankful for what usually feels like a handicap. I brushed against her in the hallway, and I could see myself smiling in the picture. I knew I’d know her so I made it happen.”