by S. L. Naeole
“Yes, it’s safe for Graham,” he replied calmly. “Sam doesn’t care about Graham, and no matter what Sam’s intentions, he cannot hurt the innocent. Graham’s life isn’t in danger.”
“Why isn’t he allowed to hurt the innocent, Robert? Because of the rules? The same rules that you said kept me safe because I’m your wing-bringer? The same rules that you said kept you from lying? Excuse me if I don’t believe anything you say anymore,” I argued, the venom in my voice surprising even me. “I’m not going. The idea of allowing you to follow me around was hard enough to accept—I’m not ready or willing to accept staying under the same roof with you when the only thing I can hear in my head is your betrayal.”
“You have no choice, Grace,” Robert insisted. “Graham agrees with me that you will not be safe here. If you cannot trust me then trust him.”
I looked at him and smirked, doubt and smugness suddenly filling me up with blackness. “Tell him first.”
His face turned stony at my demand. “No.”
“I’ll leave with you if you tell him, I’ll go wherever you want as long as you tell him the truth. We’ll see if he still wants me to go with you once he knows what you are, Robert.”
Graham looked at the two of us and frowned, the dark looks on our faces speaking of things he was suddenly unsure of, things he didn’t think he wanted to know.
Robert glanced at him, his eyes narrowing as he searched Graham’s mind and heart for the possible reaction that lay in wait to the truth of what Robert truly was. When his expression showed dismay, I felt myself being emotionally split in two; part of me celebrated at what he had seen, the small victory a sign that I would be staying home, while the other part felt regret for having once again hurt him out of spite, betraying the façade of anger I had put up.
“Graham,” Robert began, his voice somber and low, his eyes cast down, unable to look at Graham or me as he spoke. “My call, what it is that I was born to do is not something that is easily accepted, and I hold no doubt that you will find what I do to be repugnant and reprehensible, but if this is what Grace wants, if this is what she needs, I will tell you.”
Shaking his head, Graham refused the explanation. “No. Don’t tell me, Robert. This is wrong. This is wrong, Grace. Your life is in danger and you’re trying to put Robert on the outs with me just so you can feel better about all of this? What’s happened to you? Since when have you become so spiteful and vindictive?”
“What?” I asked, my voice sounding distressed. “You can’t possibly choose his side!”
“I’m not,” he replied assuredly. “I’m choosing yours. The last thing you need is seeing the two of us hate each other again, Grace, and that’s what Robert sees if he tells me. I get it now, I get why you wouldn’t tell me, Robert.”
He walked towards the bed and sat down beside me. He wrapped his arm around my sunken shoulders and leaned his head against mine. “No matter how angry you might be at him, Grace, you still love him. It’s why you didn’t come with me. It’s why you’re fighting so hard to not go with him—you’re afraid that by doing so, you’ll have to admit to yourself and to him how you really feel, and that scares you more than this Sam person.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered acerbically.
“I think I do. I’m probably the only person who knows you better than Robert, and he can read your mind. I know you love him, Grace. You don’t spent two weeks crying your heart out every single night over someone you don’t love. You don’t refuse to hurt someone you don’t care about. You don’t try to find reasons to stay away from them unless you know that being around them means you have to confront how you feel.”
I shook my head in denial, even as the tears fell down my face in hot streams. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I repeated, my voice much softer this time.
“Go with Robert, Grace. Go with him and be safe. You know he’s the only person who can keep you that way.”
I raised my head to stare into his watery green eyes, the vision blurred by my own liquid screen. “I’m scared,” I whispered.
“I know. I’m scared, too, but he loves you. He’s the only person who loves you more than I do, and he’s the only person who can keep you safe. Please, Grace. Do this, if not for him, and if not for yourself, then for me.”
I sighed. “Okay.”
Graham’s arms pulled me into a fiercely tight embrace as his head leaned forward and pressed his lips to my own, a bittersweet act that pushed the tears in both of our eyes forward, past the gates of our lashes and showering us with their damp reminders. This was a moment I had once dreamed of. This was the act that should have been set apart from all others. Instead, it would set apart the rest of my life from the one I’d lived up until now.
From somewhere deep within me I heard the sound of something shattering, and piece by piece, the broken images of a memory from a moment in time that had yet to exist, but that I had witnessed, faded into the darkness, falling with each tear that fell from my closed eyes.
We stayed like that for what could have been only a few minutes, or it could have been hours. I only knew that I didn’t feel ready to leave his arms when he finally loosened his hold. He kissed the top of my head and ruffled my hair, an almost brotherly thing to do. “Let’s get you packed,” he said through a sad, half-smile.
I nodded slowly, hesitantly. I couldn’t look at Robert, who had remained standing beside the two of us, taking in every single word, every single sign of affection. I wouldn’t realize until later that I couldn’t face him because of the guilt that I felt.
I stood up and headed towards the closet. I opened it and began rummaging around for a bag large enough to carry more than just a pair of jeans and some shirts. I settled on the bag that I had always taken with me when we’d go camping.
Turning around to face my dresser, I began to dig through my drawers and shove clothes into the bag. When I was satisfied that I had packed everything I felt I needed from there, I headed towards the bathroom to retrieve my toothbrush, but Robert stopped me.
“Leave it. Your father needs to think you’re still here.”
“He never comes in here—he won’t notice if my toothbrush is missing,” I argued.
“He will. He loves you, which means he’ll notice that something of yours is missing.”
I sighed, not wanting to press the issue. “Fine. I’m ready.”
Robert took the bag from me, and then reached for my backpack, which Graham held in his hands. He headed towards the window and disappeared into a sea of black smoke.
“Whoa!” Graham exclaimed at the sight, his face lit up with amazement. “How’d he do that? Can they all do that?”
I nodded, and smiled slightly, unable to resist the magnetic pull of Graham’s excitement and curiosity. “Lark mists white, just in case you ever see something that looks like smoke creeping around you.”
“Cool,” he said, grinning.
“Graham,” I began, “I-I don’t know what to say to you now. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. You’re my best friend, and I feel like I’m leaving you to face the wolves alone.”
He shook his head and reached for me, his arms wrapping around my back, my head resting on his chest, fitting so well it seemed like it belonged there. Only it didn’t.
“Grace, I’ll be fine. I’m more afraid of Stacy than I am of this Sam person. And besides, I’m not the one he wants, remember?”
“Just promise me that you won’t go and try to be the hero, Graham. Heroes only belong in movies and books.”
He chuckled and rested his chin on the top of my head. “I promise that you’ll see me tomorrow in school, Grace. I’ll be fine, and, thankfully, so will you. Everything’s going to work out. Trust me.”
I nodded, sniffling.
“It’s time,” Robert said from the window.
Graham’s arms loosened their hold on me once more and he pulled away reluctantly. “You’d better take care of her, man,” he s
aid fiercely, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I have no intention of doing anything but,” Robert replied, his hand held out towards me.
I looked at Graham’s sullen face and I mouthed a quick goodbye. He forced a brave smile onto his face as I accepted Robert’s hand and was pulled quickly through the window and lost the feel of the ground beneath my feet.
My arms instinctively wrapped around Robert’s neck and I buried my face there as we soared through the quiet night sky. I didn’t dare open my eyes to look at him or anywhere else. I wasn’t ready for the confrontation that I knew was coming.
Instead, I listened to the sound of the air brushing past my ears, and the rustling of the wings that I knew Robert had brought out. My fingers brushed against the silky soft feathers and for a brief moment, I was able to relax.
When we landed at the backdoor of Robert’s home, I realized just how much I took for granted the fact that he had always taken his time when travelling in this manner from his house to mine. We had only been in the air for a few minutes, a fraction of the time usually spent on the same journey on previous trips.
The door opened and Lark stood there, her face a rainbow of emotions as she pulled me inside. “You’ll be staying in my room, Grace.”
“No—she’s staying with me,” Robert disagreed.
“Mother’s rules, Robert. She stays with me,” Lark said firmly as she pulled me along the long hallway that led past Robert’s room, past the kitchen, and into the living room. “I’m sorry about all of this, Grace,” she said sadly as she began heading upstairs.
She opened the last door at the top of the stairs and pulled me into the large room. Lark’s bedroom was the largest in the house. Ameila had opted for the smallest of the three rooms upstairs, while Lark used the master bedroom. Each of the walls were painted a different color, from bright orange to a turquoise blue, a yellow that screamed out at you, to a pink that I would have never allowed in my closet, much less my room.
Her large, contemporary bed was made up of a patchwork of the same colors, though the fabrics were a mixture of suede and chenille, cotton and silk, and the patterns varied widely as well though they all somehow worked together to mesh with the walls as well as the décor.
Hung up on the walls in black frames were the headstone rubbings that she had taken from the different cemeteries she had visited. It made for a beautiful, if not macabre display of her hobby, and they contrasted sharply with the brightness of the room itself.
“Doesn’t it strike you as ironic? A blind girl’s room being painted like a crayon box exploded in here?” she had joked when I had first seen it several months earlier.
I knew better than to agree—she could see the colors just fine through my own eyes, though she did explain to me something that I hadn’t realized until then. “Everyone sees things differently. While you see the colors as bright and beautiful, others might see them and think they’re garish and offensive. I can only see things from the perspective of the eyes I see them through. It’s one of the reasons why I trust you, Grace. You see things for what they are—you don’t mask the things you see with labels and preconceived notions formed from the opinions of others. I know that what you see is the truth.”
Now the room looked like a brightly painted prison, and I was its newest resident.
“Stop complaining,” she snapped as she walked towards the bed and pulled back the covers. “I suggest you get to sleep. You have to resume as normal a life as possible so that no one thinks anything’s going on. Sam will be sifting through the minds of those around you to see if anything’s changed.”
I stared at her with a strange feeling of disappointment flowing in me. I climbed onto the large bed and shoved my feet beneath the sheet and comforter, lying back slowly until my head touched one of the numerous pillows she had piled against the padded headboard.
“What? Were you expecting to spend the night with Robert in his room?” she asked, laughing when she took in my appalled expression. “Oh please, that’s it, isn’t it? You wanted to sleep with him! Well, sorry to disappoint you, Grace, but unlike your father, mother knows when we have…guests in our rooms. It has nothing to do with propriety, so don’t confuse her with being a prude or anything like that.”
“So why was it okay for Robert to spend the night with me, but not the other way around?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“It’s not.”
I sat up to ask why but Lark was gone, I was alone.
Sighing, I turned to the side and lay down once more. The lights slowly dimmed and my eyes followed them as they closed, shutting out the muted colors in the room, shutting out everything and every thought save one.
For better or worse, I had chosen to follow Robert and that had quite possibly put my best friend in danger. Would I be able to accept the consequences of my actions should something happen to either of them? What about if something happened to just one of them? Would I be able to face the other?
And what exactly would being here prevent? Sam had found my home, found my room. He was in my head now. How would he not know that something had changed?
Then it dawned on me that I already knew how to keep him out—the ability to hide my thoughts had manifested itself quite by accident, but it was still available to me all the same, and I had learned to control it somewhat, allowing me to pick and choose who I let in. I hugged this piece of information to me, glad for its existence, and closed my eyes.
I opened them again when I felt the presence of someone in the room.
“Lark?” I called out, but knew that it wasn’t her. “Robert?”
When no answer came, I climbed out of the bed and walked over to the door. I pulled it open, the bright light from the hallway streaming in to illuminate the dark bedroom and reveal where the light switch was located. I flipped it on and looked around the room.
It was empty.
Shaking my head, I turned the light off but left the door open a crack so that a sliver of light was visible from the bed. I climbed in slowly, pulling the covers over my legs and chest before lying down.
“What the-” I lifted my head and placed my hand onto the pillow, removing the object that had been placed there.
I sat up and leaned towards the scrap of light that shone through the door and brought the object to it, a quiver of warmth running through me as I recognized what it was.
The maroon speckled pink and white flower was perfect, its five petals pointed outward, as if in supplication. I brushed a fingertip against the soft, smooth surface of each one, the center stalks gently dusting the back of my hand with the bright yellow pollen that clung to it desperately.
I felt the upward pull of my lips despite myself, the smile betraying the hurt that I still felt. I raised my arm to throw the flower away from me, but again, against everything that told me it was the right thing to do, I lowered my arm and brought the flower closer to me. I leaned back and rested my head on the pillow, the flower now bathed in darkness but still beautiful in its silhouette.
“Why do you do this to me?” I whispered. “Why do you make me feel these things when all I want to do is forget?”
I didn’t expect a reply which is why it surprised me when, after not receiving one, I felt the sting of tears as my eyes watered in disappointment. I placed the flower on the pillow next to me and stared at it until my eyes closed.
For the first time in two weeks, I didn’t dream of Sam.
I didn’t dream at all.
NOT FOR CHILDREN’S EARS
When I woke up to see Graham sitting beside me on the bed, I forgot where I was and moved to sit up but my feet didn’t touch the ground. Instead, they encountered more bed, more sheets, more comforter; more of everything I wasn’t used to.
“What?” I mumbled as I rubbed my eyes and looked at my surroundings, the brightness nearly blinding. “Oh dear bananas. How can she wake up to this every morning?”
“I like it,” Graham said cheerfully, his large smile lookin
g almost comical.
“You would,” I muttered as I turned around to climb out of bed, this time accomplishing the job with little difficulty. “What time is it?”
“It’s nearly seven. I’m taking you to school today—no changes to the routine; that’s what Robert instructed.”
“Since when did you become his lapdog?” I griped as I rifled through my bag of clothes. “I don’t believe it—I forgot to pack my boots!”
Graham’s smile grew impossibly wider. “I guess you’ll just have to borrow something of Lark’s.”
Grimacing, I shook my head. “Uh-uh. I’m not wearing one of her prissy little shoes with my jeans. That’ll look too…that’s just not me, okay?”
He shrugged and leaned back on his elbows. “Well, you could go barefoot, I suppose. It’s a good thing winter’s gone, eh?”
“You’re not helping, Graham,” I said, my voice taking on a rather disagreeable tone. “I need my boots.”
Lark walked in and gave me a once over, shaking her head at what she saw through Graham’s eyes. “You’re hideous in the morning, Grace. You’d think that sleeping in my room would help with your disposition, or at least with your appearance, but apparently some people can’t be helped. Here,” she said, tossing a bag onto the bed.
“What is it?” I asked as I reached for it, but got no response. I looked up and shook my head.
Lark and Graham were facing each other, their hands clasped, their foreheads pressed together. Despite myself, I felt a slight pang of envy.
Sighing, I turned my attention back to the bag and pulled out a large box. I removed the lid and whooped with joy. “My boots!”
I pulled them out and hugged them to my chest then quickly pulled them away from me, looking to make sure that no one had seen that.
“Oh, I saw that,” Lark laughed.
“So did I,” Graham chuckled.
I wrinkled my nose at them and quickly gathered a pair of jeans and a shirt together and then dashed into the bathroom, the boots gripped tightly in my hand. I changed my clothes hastily, not realizing I had put my shirt on backwards…twice, and then washed my face. I saw the packaged toothbrush beside the sink and opened it.
