Swift (8 page)

Standing outside, I pondered what I should do. Then I remembered the spare key she had given me before I had left the day before. Still I stood there, hesitating about whether or not I should use it. Eventually, I decided to take charge and let myself in. The door creaked closed, and I stood in the entrance, feeling like I had just committed a crime or something. I had a key, so it wasn’t like breaking and entering, but I certainly felt like a criminal standing there in the darkness. The time seemed to drift by slowly, and I checked my cell phone for the time: It was ten till 9:00. I wavered over what to do next, not sure on how comfortable I should make myself; it was still my first day after all. Just as I was about to walk over and knock on the door marked “Private,” I heard footsteps coming down the stairs on the other side of it.

“Good morning.” Ms. Donaldson smiled as she opened the door and saw me standing near the entrance.

“Good morning. Hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.”

“Not at all. That’s why I gave you the spare key, dear.” She smiled, shutting and locking the door behind her.

I returned the smile, suddenly feeling a little more at ease. Glancing around, I searched for a place to put my purse and backpack.

“Here, let’s put your things under the counter over there.” She motioned me to follow her as she made her way across the room toward the checkout counter.

We spent the first part of the day going over the computer system and how to check books in and out. Thankfully, the system was very user-friendly, and I was confident that I could use it without any major issues. Before I knew it, it was lunchtime, and Ms. Donaldson went upstairs to her apartment for the hour, leaving me to run things downstairs. She told me to just holler if I needed anything. Before eating my lunch, I brought the overnight drop box back to the checkout counter and decided to multitask as I ate.

Just as I was about to pull out my sandwich, I heard the front door squeak closed. I looked up to see our next patron. It was just the same as the first time our eyes met that afternoon at the crosswalk, that evening after the party, and that afternoon at Omega’s. Breaking our shared gaze, Blake walked further into the library, and I tried my hardest not to stare at him as he made his way to the reference section toward the back of the room. But it was out of my control; I couldn’t help it. My eyes followed his every step as he pulled down two books and walked to the table nearest the window.

Chapter Seven

A large thudding sound broke my concentration on Blake. I flinched, my heart picking up speed as my eyes turned back to the person standing at the counter in front of me. I apologized to Ms. Brownlee for not noticing her sooner as I picked up the large stack of books she had thrown down.

“Uh, let’s see here. Do you have your library card?” I asked, trying to juggle both the stack of books and the scanner as I walked over to the computer. I’m not sure if it was my nerves from being startled or if I was just having a klutzy moment, but my hand started to lose balance with the books. Before I knew it, they were toppling over and falling toward the ground, each of them making a loud crashing sound as they hit, creating what felt like a never-ending echo in the previously silent library. My face began to heat up, and I could feel my color changing to a bright red.

I muttered a lot of expletives in my head, but luckily the word that came out was not one of them: “Crap.” Bending over, I quickly gathered the books back up. I made two trips to the computer instead that time.

I glanced back at Ms. Brownlee, who was still thumbing through a large stack of cards that she had pulled from her purse. It was unclear if she had just missed my episode of clumsiness or if she was just trying to be nice and not stare. I assumed it was the latter. When I reached out to take the bright yellow card marked
Marblehead Public Library
she handed me, my hand was still shaking from humiliation. I scanned each book and then handed the card back to her, making sure to remind her of the due date, hoping she would think I was somewhat capable of doing my job. She forced a smile as she took the books and walked out. After that embarrassing display of awkwardness, it took me a few minutes to gather myself, allowing my face to return from the crimson color I knew it was back to normal.

What is happening to me? I asked myself as I held up my trembling hands and stared at them like they were some foreign objects needing to be sent back to wherever they’d come from. Where was my cool, confident, laid-back self? Things were definitely weird with me; there was no denying that something was going on. All those years that I had kept my feelings bottled up inside must have been compounding. It felt like I was coming apart at the seams, slowly but surely. After a few deep breaths, I found the courage to search the library for Blake, but he was gone. He probably had snuck out when he saw my perfect display of gracefulness. How embarrassing, I thought, feeling the crimson color returning to my face.

The dreadful day finally ended, and when I got home, I was relieved to see a note that Aunt Rose had left me:

Roger called. He lost his cell phone at the party and couldn’t remember your cell number. He gave up and called the house. He’s at his dad’s and will call you on Sunday. See you tonight. BTW, Jack is coming over later and he’s bringing dinner.

     AR

In Rockport already? I hadn’t thought Roger would be leaving so soon. I probably wouldn’t have bailed early on the party. It did make me feel better, knowing that he was not mad at me and that he would call in just a few days. Maybe then I could unload all the weird stuff that was happening to me.

That evening Jack, Aunt Rose, and I inhaled the large pizza that he brought over. I sat and talked with him, catching him up on the newest events in my life, which only took a couple minutes.

“So, kid … where do you think you will travel to when summer ends? I know you don’t have any definite plans, but you have to have an idea, right?” He looked at me anxiously.

It was weird that he had asked this question, because Jack was never that inquisitive. I was skeptical that Aunt Rose had put him up to it.

“Well, um, I have an
idea
. I mean, I have a starting point, since I will eventually have to buy a plane ticket.” I paused, taking in a deep breath before continuing. Only Roger knew my tentative plan, and I was not sure how Aunt Rose would react to it. “I was thinking about going to London first. My mom’s side of the family was from that area, and even though I’ve never met any of them, I think it would be kinda cool to see where I come from,” I said, shrugging.

I was hoping that it didn’t hurt Aunt Rose’s feelings. She loved my mother, but I knew she took a certain amount of pride in being my guardian, and I didn’t want to take that away from her.

“Oh, well, that’s something.” He shot a quick glance at Aunt Rose, and she turned and gave me a nervous smile. My suspicions had been correct: He definitely had been put up to it.

Before he could ask any more questions, I stretched out and began a fake yawn, but then a real yawn took over, making it that much easier to make my exit. “‘Night, guys,” I yelled as I got up from the table and trudged up the stairs and into my room. I changed into my pajamas, took out a CD, and popped it in my CD player. It was not long before I started to feel relaxed. I stretched out on my bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to drown out everything but the music.

As I lay there, I could feel myself drifting off to sleep, knowing in a way that I was beginning to dream. But this was no nightmare like I had had the other night. This was a good dream. The place I saw was familiar to me: My family and I were in our favorite spot on the beach with a clear view of the lighthouse in the distance. My mother and father were laughing and talking as they cooked over the portable grill that we had brought with us from home. My sister and I were building sandcastles ten feet from them.

I knew that all I had to do was open my eyes and the dream would disappear. But it seemed so real, so clear and distinct, as if I was living it in the present. I wanted to see it. Hell, I
needed
to see it. It had been too long since I’d seen my mom and dad happy and smiling or remembered my sister and I innocently playing at the beach on a warm, sunny day. I never wanted to open my eyes.

Just as it looked like dinner was prepared, all perfectly placed on the blanket my mother had spread out along the beach, something stole her attention. Without anyone noticing, not even my father, my mother turned and looked out into the ocean. She stood there for a few seconds, looking out into the water. Suddenly, her head snapped back toward my sister and I. The look on her face was terrifying. As she approached my father and whispered into his ear, his blissful face turned bleak, and all the color drained out of it.

“Girls, gather up your things. We need to go now. There’s a storm coming,” he spoke sternly.

“What storm?” Charlotte pouted as she looked up toward the bright, blue, sun-filled sky.

“Don’t argue with your father, Charlotte. Now get your things and let’s go,” my mother demanded, raising her voice, something she rarely did.

“Fine.” Charlotte stomped over to our plastic sandcastle molds and began to gather them up. “Come on, Meredith. Dad said you had to help, too,” she whined as I saw the image of me kneeling down to help her. I glanced back and saw my mom and dad whispering to one another as they gathered the rest of the gear, both looking frantic.

“Come on, girls, we need to go now! Leave everything that you don’t have ready to go,” my dad yelled. His face was impatient and his hands were full with items we needed to leave with.

Charlotte huffed as she stood up and began to obey him, then yelled at me, “Meredith, you heard him, let’s go!”

I stood and obediently followed my family off the beach.

“Faster!” My father yelled as he looked back toward my sister and me. We picked up our pace, running faster and faster in the sand. I struggled, my hands full and my legs feeling heavy, not knowing how much longer I could balance everything I was holding. Soon enough, the running in the sand with my hands full proved to be too difficult. I tripped over my own feet, and the plastic sandcastle molds went flying along with me as I landed face down in the sand. When I hit the ground, my mouth filled with the coarse, dry powder. I coughed, trying to breath, trying to get the sand out of my mouth.

Then something woke me up from my vision. I realized that
I
couldn’t breathe. I sat up in bed, coughing uncontrollably, drenched in sweat. I swallowed and took in a few deep breaths as I looked toward the clock. It was 5:30 in the morning. And the headache I had woken up with a couple days ago was back, pounding in the same spot as it had before.

I fell back on the bed and sighed, thinking of the dream, remembering it so clearly, wishing more than anything that I could have that day back. I had always treasured that day at the beach, remembered it fondly. That was the last happy time we had had as a family before the accident.

Everything after that day had been weird at home, and my parents had begun to act … different. We no longer laughed as a family, no longer ate dinner together, barely even spent time with each other. My parents spent most of their time having hushed conversations, always with a panicked look on their faces. My sister and I were asked to go outside and play a lot more than usual, and we were never allowed to leave the boundaries my mom had set for us.

But why all of a sudden was I having these dreams of the past? The dreams I had had the past few nights were not random they were actual memories of my family and me. I couldn’t help but wonder if these dreams were trying to show me something.

After a few minutes, it was clear to me that I was not going to fall back to sleep. The possibility that something could be wrong with me haunted my every thought. I was not sure what the dreams meant, but they had to be a sign that something was wrong with me. It could have something to do with the ten-year anniversary of their deaths, I guessed. Regardless, the irrational thoughts crept into my head and the idea of me having some crazy disease took over. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands then threw the covers off, deciding there was only one way to really calm my fears. I got up and planted my butt in front of the computer, opened up a search engine, and typed in “brain tumor.”

After a couple hours of research, I felt no more secure about what possible condition I may or may not have had than I did before I had started. Giving up on research, I walked back to my bed and buried myself underneath the covers. Who was I kidding? There was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep.

After pulling myself out of bed, I took a shower and tried to push all the negative thoughts out of my head. All of my concentration would be needed at work (I had proved yesterday that I couldn’t handle carrying a stack of books without making a total fool out of myself). My morning routine started out the same as the previous day: a quick breakfast followed up by packing myself a sandwich for lunch then out the door and off to work.

Work was different that day. Slower. Way slower. Too slow. The day dragged by, and each time I looked at the clock, hoping the little hand was close to the five, it had barely moved since the last time I’d checked. Also, the day was different because Blake didn’t show up. Even though I hated admitting it to myself, I wanted him to. I wanted to see him again. I yearned for it, but I wasn’t sure why. He was incredibly good-looking, mysterious, and maybe just a little bit arrogant, but he seemed to have another side to him. Not that it mattered, because he never showed. Not the next day, or the next.