touch (37 page)

The doorway behind Morik stood empty.  I closed my mouth to
stop the screams and bolted for the door to close it.  To keep Morik safe while
I called… Who?  How could I save him?

A sob escaped as I fumbled with the lock.  My hands kept
slipping.  I wiped them on my pants, twice, and then successfully fastened the
lock.

I spun around sparing a glance at Morik who’d rolled to his
back.  So much blood.  I needed a towel to stop the bleeding.

“Tessss,” Morik attempted to gasp out my name.

It jolted me into action.  I dashed for the towels, grabbing
several and raced back to his side, falling to my knees to press all of them to
his chest.  Another sob escaped.

He raised a hand to touch my cheek.  “I love you.”  Nothing
but silver swirled in his eyes.

I nodded and cried harder.  On my knees, putting all my
weight into it, I pressed hard trying to stop the bleeding.  A pool of blood
grew under him.  Shit!  He was shot in the back.  I blubbered that I needed
more towels and dashed back into the kitchen.  How could I compress both areas?

Behind me, he let out an agonized breath.  Slow and weak.

Moving quickly, I turned back to the entry and blinked.  The
place where he’d fallen, marked by his pool of blood, now lay empty.  I walked
toward the living room.  He wasn’t on the couch.  Confused, I turned back to
stare at the congealing blood pool on the floor.  No tracks leading away from
his spot.  The towels that I’d left on his chest lay in the blood.

I’d just heard him.  He’d breathed.

My heart twisted painfully recalling the tortured breath and
I fell to me knees.  His last breath.  I’d heard his last breath.  He didn’t
belong in my world.  It only made sense that his body couldn’t remain to be
discovered in the event of his death.

My racking sobs eased.  Numbness spread starting in my chest
working its way outward.  I stood stiffly and walked to his phone.

Aunt Grace picked up on the second ring.  “I need a ride
home.”  I didn’t sound like myself.  The dead tone echoed oddly over the line.

“Tessa, is that you?”

I repeated my request and gave the address.  She hung up
immediately.

Staring at the door to avoid looking at the bloody pool, I
noted a smear of pink marring its white surface far above the knob.  About
level with my head.  I swiped at my face and looked at my hand.  Gore coated
it.  Morik.  My breath hitched and then steadied again.

Shambling forward, I unlocked the door and looked outside
for any trace of Brian.  The idea of him still outside when my ride arrived
bothered me, for their safety, not my own.

He’d vanished.  Like Morik.

I gently closed the door and sat on the couch.  The rhythmic
tick of the clock mesmerized me.  I stared at the tiny black hands.

*    *    *    *

Someone tapped my face roughly.  I blinked the hands back
into focus.  They’d moved several minutes.  My mom’s face blocked the view.

“Tessa.  Are you hurt?” she demanded tugging at my arms
trying to determine for herself my state of well-being.

“Oh, mom…”  It came out a strangled moan.  The numbness that
had protected me fled with her presence.  Mom would understand.  “He died. 
Brian shot him.  It’s all my fault,” I ended with a sob.  And it was.  I
shouldn’t have opened the door.

“Honey, Morik’s not like us.  I’m sure he’s fine.”

“No mom.  He told me.  He can be hurt just like us.  Bleed
just like us.”  I looked down at my clothes.  I felt the tightness on my face
from his dried blood.  “He’s dead,” I whispered brokenly, swiping at the mess
on my skin and clothes.  The visual reminder of his abandonment tore at me.

“Clare, we can’t take her out of here like this,” Aunt Grace
murmured.

I didn’t pay them any further attention.  My insides were
breaking.  Everything hurt.  Especially my throat.  Another sob bubbled out of
me.  Someone helped me stand and steered me to the bathroom near my bedroom. 
Water ran.  Someone helped peel the clothes from me.  Steam filled the air.  A
hot spray soaked my skin.  I started to shake and blinked at the shower
curtain.  Mom stood partially outside using the removable nozzle to hose me
down.  The water ran clear in the drain.  I had expected red.

“Come on, sweetie,” she said coaxing me out of the shower. 
She dried me and helped me dress in the pajamas I’d just changed from.  They
smelled like Morik.  Tears streamed down my face.

Aunt Grace knocked on the door and whispered something to
Mom.

My reflection caught my attention and stared back at me.  I
wondered if the girl in the mirror had figured it out already.  We were dead
without Morik.  How many weeks did we have left?  I couldn’t think straight but
guessed less than five.  Then I would be like Aunt Danielle.  No, not like
her.  I had no twin to tie me here.  I’d just die.

Bleakly, I allowed my mom to turn me and lead me from the
bathroom.  She helped me put on socks and shoes again.  Someone had cleaned
them.  I couldn’t remember her taking them off.

The entry smelled like cleaner.  No blood remained.

I continued to cry.

I struggled with any concept of time.  When pain didn’t
consume me to the point of sobbing dry heaves, a strange numbness invaded
blocking reality.  My relief came in the form of the chant I used to hate.  I
now welcomed the oblivion with open arms.  It came too infrequently though,
leaving me to struggle through my regrets.

Too late, I realized my own love for Morik.  In the weeks
since meeting him, he’d built himself a room in my heart.  There all the
memories of him remained to haunt me.  Every touch and kiss replayed itself. 
The playful moments in the bowling alley, the anguished moment our eyes met in
the bathroom mirror, it all ate at me.  Regrets.  Missed opportunities for me
to tell him of my love.

I stayed in my room avoiding everyone, any reminder of life
and dwelled in the darkness of my thoughts.

My solitude didn’t remain as long as I wanted.  A hurricane
broke my reverie.

Beatriz stormed into my room with thunder in her eyes.  I
blinked at the unexpected sight.  Not just at her presence but also her mood. 
Everyone spoke softly since Morik died, tiptoeing around my tears and
despondent silence.  Not Beatriz.  She came in yelling.

“NO!” she exclaimed as she burst into the room and strode
the four steps to my bed.  “I won’t allow this!”  She yanked the covers back
and pulled me by the hair -
yes, the hair -
from the prone, curled
position I’d lain in for… I didn’t know how long.

She got right in my face.  “You reek.  Get up now and
shower.”

Tears welled in my eyes.  I’d cried so much already, but it
seemed I wasn’t done yet.  She didn’t understand.  My best friend.  What I’d
always wanted.  She didn’t understand that I’d lost my heart… that I would be
leaving her soon.  How could I say good-bye to her too?  It just hurt too much.

“I’m not going to cave because you cry.  Up!”  She tugged
again, and I went with her.

I didn’t mind the hair pulling.  Its pain dulled the pain I
felt inside.

Like my mom, she helped me undress, mumbling something about
telling Ted and more lesbian rumors.  Unlike mom, she didn’t warm the water. 
The cold spray jolted me from my stupor.

“W-what are you d-d-doing?” I sputtered at her.

“It’s called not giving up.  You should try it sometime,”
she snapped.

I tried leaving the shower but she pushed me back in. 
Narrowing my eyes at her, something inside snapped.  “Back off, Beatriz,” I
growled.

Cold water dripped down my back.  I shivered and crossed my
arms, my nakedness finally dawning on me.  We glared at each other through the
gape in the curtain.

“Shower.  Then I’ll let you out.”

I snaked an arm to the handle without looking away from her
and spun it toward hot.  The water warmed and I angrily turned my back to her and
began to wash.  As the water warmed, my temper cooled.  A little.

“What, besides my smell, prompted you to come barging into
my room?” I asked crossly.

“It’s been a week.  Your mom said to give you time.  But I
know you don’t have that.  Enough’s enough.  You need to find a replacement and
stop horsing around.”

Her words jabbed deep into my middle, knocking my breath
out.  I braced a hand on the tile and gagged.  A replacement?  How could she
say that?  I’d loved Morik.  Then her words sunk in.

“You know.”  The statement escaped in a horrified whisper. 
Now I’d lose my friend too.

“Your mom had your Aunt Danielle tell me,” she said quietly
from the other side of the curtain.  “She’s really awesome.  Your whole family
is.”

I slowly rinsed my hair, not actually shampooing it.  Gross
or not, I just didn’t care enough to expend the energy needed for a full wash.

“I want to help you Tessa.  Please.”

Tears blended with the water and I had a difficult time
swallowing past the lump in my throat.  A true friendship.  Just like I’d seen
in my vision with Brad.  I should have known it wouldn’t depend on marrying her
brother.  It was just the kind of person Beatriz was.  Kind and caring… in a
scary, cold way.

“I don’t know how you can,” I admitted turning off the
water.

She handed a towel through the curtain giving me privacy. 
“First we need to verify he’s actually dead,” she said practically.

“Watching a bullet pierce him isn’t enough?”  My voice
broke.

“No,” she said brusquely.  “It’s not.  And it shouldn’t be
for you either.  He’s not human.  Sure, he can be hurt, but what if the same
rules don’t apply to him.  Maybe he can’t die.”

“I wish that were true,” I said sadly stepping from the shower
wrapped in the towel.

“You didn’t wash,” she accused.

I ignored her.  “He told me he could cease to exist.  That’s
pretty much how I would define death.”

She followed me to the bedroom waiting just outside the door
while I dressed.  The bed tempted me, but I didn’t doubt Beatriz would pull me
from it by the hair again.  I called her in as I flipped the blankets over the
mattress and sat down on its edge.

“What about your mark?  It’s still there.”  She sat next to
me and gave me a cheeky grin.  “I peeked.”

I rolled my eyes, but answered her.  “I don’t know what that
means.  Morik didn’t seem to know much about the link other than it tied us
together more than my choice would.”

“Then I think we should count it as a good sign,” she said
firmly.

I didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

“If he is still alive,” she pushed, “you wouldn’t want him
popping in and seeing you like this.  You lost weight and look… well, sick. 
Let’s get you something to eat.”

She stood decisively and waved me to the door.  With a mulish
scowl, I stood and led the way to the kitchen.  A smoky sweet aroma tickled my
nose and my memory.  Bacon.  Nostalgia swamped me and tears rimmed my eyes.

Beatriz grabbed my hand and held it in both her own.  “Trust
me,” she whispered.  “I will pull you through this.”  Her steely tone indicated
her level of determination.

Everyone sat at the kitchen table.  All, except Aunt
Danielle, held a cup of coffee.  Their worried expressions changed at the sight
of me.  Mom started crying.  Gran stood with a watery smile saying she’d fix me
a plate.  Aunt Danielle winked at Beatriz.

I sat in Gran’s vacated chair.  Aunt Danielle glided to her
usual chair so Beatriz could sit with me at the table.  No one said anything,
but I could see they all wanted to.

After nibbling halfway through a slice of toast, I set my
barely touched plate to the side.  Mom’s crying had quieted to sniffles and she
cleared her throat for the second time obviously working up the courage to
break the silence.

“Tessa,” she said with soft hesitancy.  I looked up at her. 
“Stephen has a nephew we’d like you to meet.”

She quieted.  I didn’t try to hide my look of horror.  “I’ve
already killed one.  Isn’t that enough?”  A tear slipped down my cheek.

“I don’t think know is the time for this talk,” Beatriz
piped up.  The steel was back.  “We need to run.  I promised Mona we’d stop
in.”

Beatriz tugged me to my feet.  Following her like an
obedient puppy, I put on my things at the door.  Gran cleaned up my plate and I
felt a pang of guilt.  What had I done to them for the past…  “What day is it?”
I asked Beatriz.

“Saturday.”  She didn’t look at me, just pushed me out the
door into the snow.

A whole week.  I couldn’t really remember eating or
anything.  I frowned.

She led me to a car and held the door for me.  “Buckle up,”
she ordered slamming it closed.  She joined me a moment later behind the
wheel.  “It’s my mom’s car so we need to behave.”

I didn’t think I had the energy to misbehave, but nodded
anyway.

A few minutes later, she parked in front of the Coffee
Shop.  It hurt to look at it.  I thought of all the times Morik helped me with
deliveries and waited for me at a table.

Beatriz didn’t give me a chance to balk.  She pulled me from
the car and dragged me inside.

Mona didn’t look up at the sound of the bell.  A long line
waited at the counter.  She hustled to make orders and ring up sales.  Guilt
hit me.  I never called her to explain my absence.  I turned to Beatriz to tell
her I wanted to leave.

She’d anticipated it, but didn’t look at me with pity. 
Determination in her eyes she held out her hand.  In it, she offered a hair
tie.  I stared at it a moment and then slowly reached for it.

Mona murmured a quiet cry of joy when I stepped behind the
counter with her.  Customers watched me expectantly.  I turned away, not ready
to take orders.  I could fill them while I bled inside.  The handle of the
coffee pot welcomed my hand.  Feeling brittle and thin, I struggled to slip
into our routine.  Customers smiled and thanked me as I handed them drinks, but
I couldn’t manage a return smile.  The simple monotony kept my hands busy, but
I struggled to focus.  The noise and the bustle wore on me.