We Awaken (3 page)

Driving twice in a day was a bit extreme for me, so I just closed my eyes and mapped out dance moves, chewing my cheek the whole ride there.

The gates and flowers outside seemed infinitely more foreboding than the ones I was used to seeing, but Mother was immune to them. She walked the sterile halls with intent, and it was obvious she knew her way through the twisting corridors just as well as I could navigate the churchyard. Where this was a walk she took often, I was not accustomed to the place. Beeping monitors and rolling carts were the only sounds of life.

The walls were so white they were practically reflective, and as we neared the long-term-care unit I could feel my breathing pick up speed with every step. It was starting to seem ridiculous that a dream made me feel so compelled to look at my brother.

As we neared the door to his room, I tried not to allow my steps to falter. Stoicism prevailed, and I walked on as if my brain wasn’t screaming at me to run in the other direction. We finally entered and saw him lying there. He looked different than I remembered, which shouldn’t have been so shocking considering I had only seen him in pictures for the past twelve months, but the thought was still a heartbreaking one. On those rare occasions I reflected on the past, I had always assumed his face was correct in my memory. If I couldn’t even get that right, who knows what I had butchered about his personality.

Perhaps it was because of his calm visage. In every image I had of him, he was in action and smiling. Now he was emotionless with unwavering lips. He was nestled between white sheets on top of a white pillow, and they seemed to drain him of color he lacked to begin with. The hospital made it look like we were lost in a whiteout snowstorm, which was actually a pretty accurate description of how I felt. Everything was devoid of color from the walls to the nurses, and if he was ever to miraculously awaken, I feared he would think himself among the colorless clouds of heaven.

Mother walked up to him as I remained motionless in the doorway. So much for stoicism. She put her thumb on his chin, then straightened the already pristine sheets, which had probably not been altered much since her last visit. There was a chair next to the bed (not white, I noted gratefully) and she dropped herself into it so violently it almost seemed like she was pushed. Her hand reached out and just lay on the bed as I took a tentative step toward Reeves.

My shoes were thunderous against the floor, so I quickened my pace and closed the distance. I stood by his feet and felt the need to make certain there was heat coming off his skin and that he wasn’t just frozen in time. Not wanting to move Mother’s hand, I skittered around to the opposite side of the bed and gently took his pulse with two fingers to the neck, hoping it appeared to just be an affectionate touch. Satisfied with the feel of his heartbeat’s echo, I placed my hand on his forehead, then brought it around to his cheek. All evidence was pointing in the direction of him being the same as before. He’d have been so excited today, it being the last day of school and all, and he couldn’t even quirk a smile.

Glancing over at Mother made it obvious she had gotten lost in her head; she was gazing up at the ceiling as if it held the answers to everything. While she stared at the tiles, I bent over and whispered in his ear, offering a thank-you for the carnation.

We had been there only ten minutes when a sickeningly kind nurse came and told us visiting hours were over. Her smile was full of straight white teeth and pity I hadn’t earned. She flashed us those teeth while shooing us out of the room, taking my mother’s place at Reeves’s side.

The ride home was as silent as the one there had been, but this time there was an air of unpleasantness. Mother was emotionally drained, and I felt just as haggard. When I stepped inside the house, the carnation fell from behind my ear to the floor and lost two petals. Leaving them on the floor, I picked it up and went upstairs, where I placed it on my bedside table permanently.

The whole ordeal at the hospital probably had given me dark circles under my eyes. I never danced that night, making what I had told Ellie a lie, and I imagined what she’d be doing at the bonfire as I stared at my ceiling and willed sleep to come.

WHEN I
entered the dream, every memory of Ashlinn and our short meeting returned, but the clarity of those thoughts clashed with the haziness of the abstract world around me. It looked oddly familiar, but there seemed to be a block in my head preventing the memories from clicking into place. I was in a decrepit old theater with red velvet seats and gold filigree. The seats, upon closer inspection, were matted and full of small tears and God knew what else. Any paint was now chipped off the walls and reincarnated as a thick layer of dust on the floor. The stage was a void, just a pitch-black rectangle every aisle led to, and looking up revealed a lack of the usual necessary lighting equipment.

Perched on one of the seats was a glimmering shadow and I recognized the cloak immediately. She didn’t even twitch when I ran right in front of her, much more quickly than I would have in reality—it was more like I wanted to be by her and then simply was—and asked sharply, “How the hell did you know those things about Reeves? He’s unconscious. I should know; I saw him today.”

Up until this point she had been staring straight ahead, but now she glanced up and her eyes met mine. There was so much life in them. Too much.

“He’ll be glad you visited. I’ll be sure to tell him. Right now I want to talk about you, though. It’s not every day I pay someone a repeat visit, lucky girl. Come along.”

That was one way to talk around a question.

She stood up, the seat folding back in on itself slowly, and then she squeezed past me where I stood half in the aisle, half in the row, and headed toward the stage. I followed unquestioningly, almost with a will that wasn’t my own. With a hop that wouldn’t have been feasible in the waking world, she was able to seat herself on the edge of the stage with legs dangling, and I followed suit because it felt like the proper, if not only, thing to do.

This new perspective revealed how expansive the theater was, with a balcony and everything. I was surveying the room and absorbing the setting, trying desperately to remember how I knew of it. There were echoes of laughter when Ashlinn’s voice broke through my confused reverie.

“You are not frightened.”

She was correct. There was a dark emptiness behind us and the whole building was dipped in a surreal sort of creepiness. Now that I knew terror should be present, I expected it to begin encroaching any second, to float in among the giggles as it should, yet the placid serenity remained.

“Why?” I asked with genuine curiosity.

“I composed this for you out of a happy memory. You were not scared when you visited this place the first time, so there’s no reason for you to be frightened now. Do you know where you are?”

“Yes. Well, no. It’s really irritating. I know I should remember, but it’s just not coming.”

“In dreams one has selective memories of life outside of them, same as how in reality you rarely recall dreams. Recent events, such as your visit with Reeves today, should still be lurking about, but oftentimes it’s harder to bring back the past. The last time you were here was before Reeves became a permanent resident in my realm. It might do you well to go back someday.”

“If you’ve really been talking to Reeves, you should know what I’ve been dealing with. I’m not sure if visiting this place is really a priority.”

Ashlinn’s demeanor switched in a flash to a charmingly embarrassed one. She spoke slowly.

“Actually, I don’t know what happened to Reeves. I do two things. One is that I catch people who dream they are falling. If you get that tipsy feeling when you turn over in bed, I’m the one stopping it. My second ability is that I can sort through someone’s happy memories and hopes, then spin those into a dream. I doubt it’s a very happy memory, so I’ve never been able to see it in you, and he doesn’t know. Only Semira knows, and she refuses to spill the beans.”

“Semira?”

“Makes the nightmares, kind of like the antiversion of me, but she isn’t a bad woman. We’re getting off topic, though,” she continued in a tone of false reluctance. “Care to tell me what happened to Reeves? He’s pretty curious himself.”

She had said earlier that old memories remained dormant in dreams, yet that one burned brightly at the forefront of my mind.

“I thought this was supposed to be a good dream,” I mumbled, trying to delay.

“I just make the cheerful settings and inhabit them. The decisions are up to you, dearie.”

I wasn’t sure if I wanted the decisions. She was swinging her legs against the stage in large circles and occasionally brushing against mine, so I began mimicking her and our feet were like two cogs, spinning onward for eternity.

“This seems like something I should be discussing with a therapist, and God knows that hasn’t worked out. Honestly, this is one of the freakiest things to have happened to me in a while. I don’t even know who you are or if I believe what you said about Reeves. I’m not about to bare my soul to you.”

Even as I said this, a small part of me was contradictory and desired to tell her everything. Maybe it was the ease of not being in reality, where the world was nothing but attacks and harsh edges. All friends acted like therapists. I didn’t get that vibe from Ashlinn, though, and it was tempting to finally free myself and speak not just about losing my father and brother, but about how terrified I was of not getting into dance school and that tingle of anxiety every time I rode in a car, and ask her about her fears as well. If she had any, that is.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see she was nodding at my statement, unoffended, and I decided it was time for me to find out a bit about her. I hopped off the stage and stood in front of her, gazing up as she tilted her head downward.

“Okay, so I can accept that we are in a dream, but when does the peculiar stuff start happening? People don’t just dream of an empty old setting. Release the kraken or something.”

“Why? Do you think I’m not odd enough? You did say this was one of the freakiest things that has happened to you. I assumed I factored into the reasoning behind that statement.”

She smirked, and I glanced away uncomfortably.

“Well, you are a bit odd but not frightening. I wouldn’t say freaky.”

Her smirk grew into a smile that greeted me when I looked back at her. She reached out her arms to me.

“Help me down. I’m going to hurt my neck if we speak to each other like this for too long.”

There was no question about my being strong enough to pick her up; dance had made sure of that much. Not even thinking about denying her request, I reached up, pleased by the opportunity to get closer to her and unwilling to examine why I wanted such a thing. Keeping my eyes trained on her stomach, I placed my hands on either side of her waist as she laid hers on my shoulders, and I began easing her off the stage. She felt ghostly beneath my grasp, much like her wrist had when I first touched her last night. When her feet hit the floor, I released her, perhaps a bit too reluctantly, and she put her hand on my chin to drag my eyes up.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Couldn’t you have jumped down or something? If this is really a dream you created, I doubt you would’ve been hurt.”

Now she laughed.

“Again with the cleverness. I could’ve levitated down if I wanted to, but you have to admit that was much more fun. Correct?” She winked at me and my heart stuttered.

Ashlinn was lovely to look upon, someone who could easily snub half of the highest-paid stars in Hollywood and break the hearts of the rest, but I hadn’t even fathomed her paying me the slightest mind and now she was flirting.

I think.

The thought should have excited me, but my prevailing emotion was fear. I wanted to hold her hand, but didn’t winking entail a whole different scenario? Not even bothering to wait for my answer, she put her hand on my back and started guiding us toward two seats. That was nice, her empty caress, and she was interesting to talk to. I was worried she’d want more than I was ready for because Ashlinn didn’t seem like a girl keen on waiting, being so personal only the second time we met.

Thinking back, that was good. New Jersey wasn’t a state; it was a series of transitions and waiting lines. They surrounded me every day, both in school and at home. Teenagers counting down the days until they could escape to college, not caring about how much that ambition hurt their well-being. My mother with her eye fixed on some unobtainable point in the future, pulsating red, when her boy would return. It seemed as if she’d spend the rest of her life waiting. Ashlinn wasn’t waiting. She broke the silence.

“It’s really great to see you and all, but I didn’t come visit you again just for me. Or because of your begging me to return. Now, I know you’re not too hot on heartfelt admissions, but Reeves wants to know how your mother and father are doing. Can’t really think of anyone else to ask who would know the truth.”

Oh God. He thinks Dad is still alive.

Wait a second, he’s not thinking anything. He’s in a coma.

Mother’s well-being was an ever-changing disaster, but Dad’s status was something I was sure of. That didn’t mean I was inclined to break the news of his death to my younger brother via someone who spoke like they were just classmates or something. Reeves didn’t even know there’d been an accident. Besides, hadn’t the boy gone through enough? Still, I remembered the carnation. If my brother truly was thinking and communicating, which was unlikely, then he deserved to know. It was only fair.

“Um, yeah. Mother’s great, except not at all from what I’ve seen. She is still regional managing and leaves for long stretches of time, although I think that happens a bit more frequently now. Whether that’s to pay bills or to get away from this town is beyond me, but I get abandoned monthly, and that’s a joy.” I was stuttering a bit, which didn’t mix too well with the attempted sarcasm. Ashlinn was clinging to every word. “When she is home, she’s empty, dwelling on the day it all happened, sorta like what I do. Hopefully I don’t seem as miserable as her on the outside. But we’re hanging in there. Honestly, we don’t talk much anymore.”