by Chase Connor
“I believe you.”
I nodded.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
Lucas took a shaky breath, doing his best to stop the tears from escaping his eyes. Finally, he steadied himself, resolve settling on his face. He nodded.
“I can do this.”
“I will do this.”
“You’ll come back.”
A voice in the back of my head wasn’t so sure.
“I will come back.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.” I nodded once. “I promise.”
“I love you.” Lucas whimpered. “Just in case I haven’t told you enough. In case I never get to again.”
“I love you, too.”
I kissed Lucas again, then laced my fingers through his, and we raced away from the tree towards the house.
Did you see that?
Chapter 2
The ground connected with my chin and my head snapped back roughly right before my sternum slammed into the dirt. An “oof” sound escaped my throat as I crumpled to the ground, dust and dirt floating upward in a cloud around me. My nose and mouth received a fair share of the cloud, and I sputtered for a moment as my eyes opened and adjusted to the darkness around me. Without the green light, the only illumination in the cellar was the little bit of moonlight that managed to peek through the awning windows high up on the walls.
At first, I just wanted to lay there and pity myself over the stinging sensation in my chin. The memories now in my head—they weren’t slowly flowing back into my consciousness; they were just there—made my skull ache right behind my eyes. Immediately, I knew that I should be going mad, writhing around, cackling like a loon, but I wasn’t compelled to do it. If the phrase “it is what it is” had a perfect situation to be used, that would have been it. I had gotten my memories back. What did that mean?
What now?
“You happy with yourself?” Oma sighed.
I looked up from my spot on the cellar floor to see her still standing where she had been before I had jumped into the well. Of course, and I was pretty sure this was true, the time that had lapsed between me falling into the well and then hitting the floor had been less than a second. At least for Oma. It had been longer for me.
I pushed off of the ground with my hands with a wince and a groan, rising to my knees to stare up at her. She laced her arms over her chest and stared down at me in what looked like anger in the dark, but I could feel the fear emanating off of her.
“Are you?” I returned.
She just stood there in the dark, staring down at me. Blue moonlight was slashed along one side of her face.
“I’ve never been less happy, Robbie.”
“Rob.”
Oma continued to stare.
“At least now you won’t have to pretend to be mad at me for…running away,” I stated blandly.
My grandmother deflated only marginally.
“He’s coming,” I said, simply.
“Well, no shit, Sherlock.”
“When?”
“How the fuck should I know?” She snapped. “But it’ll be sooner rather than later if you don’t keep your mouth shut about it. Don’t you dare tell no one.”
“Who the hell am I going to tell?” I snarled up at her.
“You know who the hell you would tell.” She jabbed a finger at me.
“He needs to know.” I found myself pleading. “He deserves to have his memories back, too, Oma.”
“He deserves to stay alive, ya’ fuckin’ idiot,” Oma replied, though her words held no malice. “You want to endanger yourself, me, Ernst and the others, well…well, it’s too late to fix that now, isn’t it? But don’t be a complete idiot and start building a bigger target, Robbie. You’re smarter than that. There’s more than one danger to Lucas, Robbie.”
“I want him to remember, Oma.”
“Of course, you do.” She sighed. “You promised. Didn’t you?”
The last four words came with a sneer.
“I told him I’d come back.”
“You came back, Robbie.” She sighed, her arms falling to her sides again. “That’s all you promised.”
Oma walked past me, her hip brushing against my shoulder though she easily could have rounded me in the large cellar without bringing herself so close. I rolled my eyes as her hip nudged against me. I started to rise to my feet with a groan as Oma headed towards the steps that led up to the kitchen. When I was finally on my feet, I turned to find Oma standing on the third step, staring over at me.
“What?”
“You never listen to me.” She shook her head, her eyes gently closing, as though she were in pain. “Listen this one goddamn time. Keep your damn mouth shut.”
I just looked at her.
“You can’t stop what’s comin’, Robbie.” She sighed. “But we might be able to keep Lucas out of it. Everything you remember? Keep it to yourself. Don’t say a damn word. Not even to me. Don’t even think about it if you can help it. The longer you can keep from talkin’ about it…the longer you can keep from thinkin’ about it…the longer we have.”
“Then what?”
“Then we’ll do what we have to do.” She gave a firm nod, her hand going to the banister as she turned to continue her ascent.
Suddenly, a thought came to me.
“What about mom and dad? We could—”
Oma spun on her heels, a furious look on her face.
“You gonna make another fuckin’ wish, Robbie?” She hissed at me. “Is that what you’re going to do? How’d that work out for you last time?”
I leveled her with my eyes.
“It bought us ten years, didn’t it?”
“Yeah.” She snorted. “How’d that work out for you?”
“We’re both still here.”
“Barely.” She snarled.
I had no retort for that.
“That’s the last of it, Robbie.” She made a vague gesture at the floor. “We’re all we got now. There’s no more wishes or prayers or hopes or…”
I stared up at her.
“Go back to bed, Robbie.” She sighed. “Crawl back into bed with Lucas. Be in love. But don’t let one word cross your damn lips, ya’ hear me?”
For what seemed like hours but was probably less than five seconds, we stared into each other’s eyes from across the dark expanse of the cellar. Finally, I gave a firm nod.
“Okay.”
Oma nodded back, then started to stomp up the stairs, mumbling under her breath and shaking her head. Waiting until I heard her footsteps crossing the kitchen and going into the living room, then start up the main stairs in the house, I went over to the cellar stairs. As I stepped up onto the first step, I braced my hand on the banister and turned to look where the well had been. Where it would never be again. Nearly four hundred years of history ended with me. Of all the things I had to atone for, that one made my chest ache the most. If I had known then…
Shaking my head to clear it of thoughts—which was nearly impossible—I padded lightly up the stairs into the kitchen. Ernst was creeping out from the shadows under the kitchen table as I closed the door behind myself. I didn’t lock it. There was no point anymore. Ernst looked up at me, his eyes somehow sad and full at the same time as he wrung his hands together at his waist. There was nothing I could think of to say to him that would make things better.
“How’s your memory?”
“’Tis back, Rob.” He blinked.
“Don’t tell Oma. At least…for tonight.” I warned him.
“I won’.” He shook his head vigorously, fearfully.
“Do you think…I mean…the others…?”
He shook his head again. “Dey weren’ down there wif us.”
I agreed with Ernst’s assessment. Only the two of us had been in the cellar ten years prior. Lucas, the other Kobolds—they were in the house but further away. Oma hadn’t been in the house. Things would be different for us all in one way or another.
“
I’m sorry, Ernst,” I said, simply. “I’m really, very sorry.”
“’Twas worf it.” He held his head high. “I don’ blame ya’. Ya’ did the only thin’ ya’ could-o.”
Ernst speech was even more muddled than usual. The gleam in the corners of his eyes that caught the moonlight let me know why.
“Not the only thing.”
“Ya’ made the righ’ choice. I said it den, and I say it now.”
“We shall see, won’t we?”
Ernst inclined his head further. “I will be righ’ here with ya’, Rob.”
For a moment, I stared into Ernst’s eyes, wondering how he had been treated during the ten years of my absence. How the other Kobolds had treated him, how Oma had punished him with silence or sneers…all for being my friend and agreeing with me. For an entire decade, he hadn’t had the memory to realize why he was being treated poorly. Ernst had been my best friend growing up…and I supposed he still was.
“I’ve missed you,” I said. “I didn’t realize it until now. Because of the whole…”
I wiggled my fingers over my head.
“I’ve missed ya’, too.” He beamed.
“See you in the morning?” I asked with a smile, then had a thought. “Later today?”
He smiled back with a nod.
“Goodnight, old friend.”
“Goodnight, best friend.” He replied.
I placed my hand over my heart and nodded at him, then continued my tiptoeing through the kitchen and into the living room. As I ascended the stairs, my hand brushed over the newel post, and I stopped to run my fingers along it, wondering when Oma had finally replaced it. How long had I been gone before she decided that a blackened, partial newel post was unsightly? Taking a deep breath, I continued on my way up the stairs, wondering what Lucas would be like when I got back to my room. Oma had seemed totally sure that Lucas would know nothing, as long as I did nothing to remind him. As long as I did nothing to jog his memories, they would stay lost. I wasn’t so sure. Someone like Lucas—someone who knew things—was a little trickier than others. But I would face whatever he said or did once I was back in the room and sliding into bed with him.
In the upstairs hallway, outside of Oma’s room, I stopped to stare at her door, wondering how different life would be when the sun rose once again. Would Oma and I be able to pretend that things were as they had been before I had gone down into the cellar? I knew in my heart of hearts that Oma was right—that it was the safest thing to do. To keep pretending. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was all we had.
“I made the right choice,” I said softly to the door.
“No, you didn’t!” Oma’s voice grumbled from inside.
I rolled my eyes.
“Asshole,” I whispered and turned to walk to my room.
“I heard that!” Her voice came again.
Cringing, I faltered, but then began walking towards my room again. My room was still dark when I pushed the door open slowly, doing my best to make sure I didn’t make any more noise than was necessary. My eyes stayed down as I entered the room and shut the door gently behind myself. A soft “click” sounded as the door closed, and I winced, hoping that it had not bothered Lucas’ slumber. When I turned back to the bed, I could see Lucas’ form under the covers, illuminated by a beam of moonlight that managed to peek through the drapes. Padding over to the foot of the bed, I looked down at my sleeping boyfriend, bundled up warmly within the bedclothes. He had a smile on his face, and he looked so peaceful there in my bed. Just like he had ten years prior. When we had both made a choice together, knowing what was to come.
“Open the door, Lucas!”
“Go, Rob!”
“Lucas—"
“We’ll huff and we’ll puff!”
“Run, Rob! Go! Hurry!”
Laughter. Evil laughter.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Lucas wiggled in his sleep, his dreamy smile broadening. I swallowed hard and rounded the bed to climb into bed on my side. As I slid under the covers, Lucas pushed backward in his sleep, shoving his body into mine, soft, whimpering sounds of longing coming from him. As I pulled the blankets over my body and wrapped my arms around him, Lucas rolled over in bed, his head coming to rest on the pillow next to mine. Instinctively, I leaned forward to press my lips against his. Lucas’ eyes fluttered sleepily as I pulled away, and then his eyes were locked on mine. He smiled widely.
“I was having the best dream.”
“Were you?” My voice was thick.
“Yeah.” He smiled sleepily, then looked confused. “But I can’t remember a bit of it now. I know it was about you, though.”
“Is that one of those things you just know?”
“I just assume all of my good dreams are about you.”
I kissed him softly again.
“All of my good dreams are about you, too.”
“Can I…”
Lucas trailed off, but gently wrapped his arms around me and buried his head against my chest, shifting his body to adjust for his height. He held me snuggly to him as he breathed warmly against me. I felt him sigh deeply, contentedly against me as he held me and started to go still once again.
“Lucas?”
“Mmmm…?”
“Do you…”
I stopped myself, knowing that no matter how I felt, or what my heart was telling me, Oma was right. Thinking with my head was the only option.
“I love you,” I said, simply. “You know that, right?”
“Mmmm. I lurve ya’, too.” He mumbled against my chest and pulled me even more tightly against him.
“I’m glad I came back.”
“I’m glad you came back, too.” He said, a little more clearly. “I knew you would. That is one of those things I just knew.”
You saw me coming, Lucas. I thought it meant something different…but you’ve been waiting for a decade.
As Lucas started to drift off, his hold of me not lessening, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him why he just knew things. I couldn’t force myself to lay a hand on his forehead and help him remember. I couldn’t rationalize waking him from his peaceful, unbothered sleep to tell him anything. Lucas loved me. Even if he didn’t remember loving me before. Even if he didn’t know why he felt his love for me so profoundly. I had to be okay with that. For his sake.
Chapter 3
Lucas smelled like bacon, but not because he had eaten any—he had just been in the kitchen while Oma had made breakfast. He had planned to leave the house as soon as he got bathed and then head straight to work, but Oma had insisted that he eat something first. While he had been in the kitchen with Oma while she cooked breakfast, I had gotten bathed and dressed. By the time I had made my way into the kitchen, Lucas was wiping his mouth with his napkin and getting up from the table. When I entered the kitchen, Oma shot me a furtive glance and went back to eating her breakfast. Lucas attempted to pick up his plate to take it to the sink, but Oma waved at him as if to say: “I’ll take care of that.” He shot her a smile and a wink and turned to me.
“You clean up nicely.” He chuckled before grabbing me and pulling me into him. “Very nicely.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I replied, giving him a quick smooch as Oma decided her food was very interesting. “You off to work?”
“Yeah.” Lucas sighed happily as he stared into my eyes. “Grandpa is needy. Are we having dinner?”
“Your house?” I suggested. “Seven?”
Lucas gave me a wink and a lingering kiss before finally forcing himself to let go of me. He thanked Oma for a delicious breakfast and headed for the door. He turned in the kitchen doorway, as though he forgot something.
“I love you.” He smiled at me.
“I love you, too,” I replied.
My boyfriend beamed at me, looking as though leaving was a struggle, but somehow managed to force himself to exit the kitchen and head for the front door. I turned to Oma, and we locked eyes as we listened for Lucas t
o actually leave. We listened to his footsteps through the living room, the foyer…then the front door opened and closed and we were left with silence. Oma looked up at me as I stood on the opposite side of the table, her face impassive as I looked down at her. Since there was nothing else that could be done, I slid into the seat that Lucas had vacated, pushing his plate aside. It had nearly been licked clean.
“You didn’t say anything to him,” Oma said.
It wasn’t a question.
“What’s for breakfast?”
“You made the right choice.” She said.
“What’s for breakfast?”
“So now you ain’t gonna talk to me?”
“I’m talking to you,” I said. “I’m inquiring about breakfast.”
“Look here—”
“You told me not to talk about it,” I said, then mimicked her. “Not even to you. Don’t even think about it if you can help it. So…what’s for breakfast?”
“Biscuits, gravy, bacon…or you can have biscuits and jelly like Lucas did if you want.” She snapped.
“I wish I had a nice bagel with cream cheese.” I sat back and stared at her. “I wish there was a decent coffee shop within ten miles of this town. I wish that—”
“Oh, shut the hell up,” Oma growled.
“Why?” I shrugged. “No one’s listening anymore anyway.”
“We don’t know that.”
“So…what now?” I asked. “We go on like this until whatever happens…happens? Wait until shit goes down?”
I wasn’t dumb enough to reference him directly.
“I mean, I’ve had a decade of practice,” I suggested. “I can act like everything is a-oh-fucking-kay for as long as it takes, I guess. But that’s not really a plan for the long-term, is it?”
“Ya’ got a better one?” Oma seemed to deflate as she set her fork alongside her plate and looked at me from across the table.
Oma was never one to look defeated or at a loss—she always had a plan or scheme of some kind or at least a smart retort for anything anyone said. Looking across the table at my grandmother with absolutely no guidance from her made me feel more nervous than I had felt in a very long time. Of course, I hadn’t exactly taken her advice to stay away from the well in the cellar, so how could I expect her to guide me along for whatever came after? Suddenly, I very much felt like the asshole I had been for many years.
