Destiny Ever-Changing

by Ivey , Tasha

  After closing the journal, I tie the ribbon in a neat bow, and I lay it gently in its place on the bookshelf. I walk over to the double doors to close them, but I pause for a moment to enjoy the view. The moon is shining brightly in the sky with the stars scattered indiscriminately around it. The giant, ocean waves appear to be carrying little pieces of moonbeams as they advance toward the shore, and I almost expect to see them collecting in sparkling piles on the shore. I close the doors and curtains and crawl into my bed. I tuck the blankets tightly around myself—something I've always done—until I make myself a cozy cocoon, and I almost immediately drift off to sleep.

  My subconscious gives way to a succession of dreams that are coming and going as quickly as the frames on a film reel. They are merely brief flashes of memories from my childhood through my adulthood. The first dream starts out with my mom and me holding hands as she walks me to school and then quickly changes to the two of us baking a birthday cake for my dad. Next, I find myself at my parents' funeral, and I remember very little about that day except for how uncomfortable I was in the black dress that my aunt bought for me. The next several snippets are of me living with my aunt and uncle, including the time that I snuck out to meet Fawn in the middle of the night and got caught. I dream about a few of the guys I dated through college, and I even dream of the day I met Alex.

  Suddenly, the dreams of my past disappear, and I see myself in a dark room. There are no exits or windows, and there is a faint glow in the room coming from a single candle. I feel around all over the walls and search the floor for some way of escape, but I find nothing. I walk toward the flickering candle that is sitting on a small table, and standing next to the table is a full-length mirror covered in a gauzy sheet. I tug on the sheet and allow it to fall to the floor, but the reflection that I see is not my own. It is my mother, but not in the way that I remember her. She looks very young—just like she stepped out of the picture in her journal. She has the same damp hair, clothes, and the rope tied around her ankle.

  I stand there for a while as we stare at each other, and I reach out to touch her as her hand does the same. When our fingertips meet, there is a jolt of electricity as if we both hold a static charge. I pull my hand back and she only smiles sweetly.

  "Mom?" I say to the apparition.

  She just looks at me as if she can't talk, so I do all the talking.

  "What am I doing wrong? It seems like every choice I make is the wrong one, and I can't stand the idea of failing again. How did you have everything so figured out?"

  She looks at me sympathetically and holds her hands out in front of her. At first, I don't understand what is going on, but I begin to see something materializing in her hands—her journal. She continues to hold it out as if she wants me to take it, but all my hands come into contact with is the cool glass of the mirror.

  I am frustrated. "I don't understand, Mom. What do I do?"

  "Follow me," she mouths just before she evaporates. The mirror turns dark.

  "Wait, Mom! Follow you where?"

  I look all around the room, but I only see the darkness. As I turn back to face the mirror again, I see that it, too, has vanished. In its place on the floor is the journal. As I pick it up, I hear knocking on the other side of the wall.

  "Laura?" a muffled voice asks. "Are you in there?"

  The voice is familiar. "I'm here! I can't get out!"

  The frantic knocking continues. "Laura? Where are you?"

  "I'm in here! I can't find a door!"

  Without warning, one of the boards in the wall is knocked loose, and it creates an opening in the wall just big enough to be able to see to the other side. I run over to the gap to look out. Just as I peer through, a pair of familiar eyes meets mine. It's Brooks.

  Just as I begin to speak to him, there is another round of thunderous knocking which rouses me from my dream. Abruptly sitting up in the bed, I realize that the knocking is coming from my door. I jump up and fling open the door.

  "Laura!" Nana huffs. "Are you alright? I've been knocking and yelling for you!"

  "I'm sorry, Nana. I was asleep. I actually thought your knocking and yelling was a part of my dream."

  She enters the room and looks concerned. "Must've been some dream. You look terrible."

  I walk into the bathroom and look in the mirror. I am drenched in sweat, and my damp hair is sticking out in every direction.

  "I suppose I do look terrible. It was certainly an interesting dream, but not a bad one. Did you need something?"

  "Yes," she says. "We were going to go shopping for your comforter and new towels this morning, remember?"

  "Oh! I almost forgot. I'll get in the shower and get ready as fast as I can."

  Nana grins and nods. "No big rush. We have all day. You want some breakfast? You didn't eat anything for dinner last night."

  "No, thanks. I'm not hungry right now, but maybe we can stop by that café in town a little later."

  "Sounds good. Let me know when you are ready to go."

  "I will," I say as she walks out of the room and closes the door behind her.

  I sit on my bed and rub my eyes. That was a crazy dream, but it felt so real, especially the part where I saw my mom.

  Follow me? I think to myself. Follow her where?

  I may be losing my mind, but I feel like there's something she wants me to do. I jump up and go to the bookshelf to get her journal, but it isn't there. I know I put it there last night when I finished reading the first page. I look all around the couch and in the floor to be sure it hadn't somehow fallen off. I walk back over to my bed and try to remember what I did with it. I fall back across the bed and my head hits something hard. I sit up and jerk the covers back, and I am astonished and almost frightened by what I see. My mom's journal is in my bed. I think back to last night, and I clearly remember placing it on the shelf before I went to bed. How did it get here? Is my mom trying to send me a message?

  With that thought, I laugh at myself for thinking of something so unfeasible. I was most likely sleepwalking during all those vivid dreams; although, I've never known myself to sleepwalk before. I have been quite stressed out lately, so I'm positive that could be to blame. I pick up the journal and place it in my lap. I still can't figure out what I am to do. I don't know if my dream had any real meaning or not. It could have just been my imagination running wild.

  Looking at my watch, I realize that thirty minutes have passed, and I know Nana is still waiting on me. I'll have to come back to this later, even though I know I won't be able to think about anything else until I figure it out. I take a quick shower, dry my hair, and throw on some clothes. I run over and tell Nana that I'm ready to go, and we are on our way to town within minutes.

  We spend the next few hours shopping at the few stores in Rock Cove. We are able to find a beautiful handmade quilt for my bed that matches the colors in the room and some nice, fluffy towels for my bathroom. I also buy some used books and a pale blue sundress. Nana and I make our way to the small café to have a bite to eat for lunch. After ordering our sandwiches and pie, we sit quietly for a moment and sip our tea.

  "Nana," I say. "I know this is a strange question, but do you think that people who have passed away can make contact with you?"

  She smiles. "Are you saying that Regina came to you?"

  "Yes. Is that weird? I dreamed about her last night, but it was so much more than a dream."

  I recount the details of my dream to her, including how the journal was on my bed when I woke up.

  "I've been praying for you lately, Laura. I've been praying that you will find peace within yourself and find some happiness in your life. Maybe your mom was sent to help you to do that."

  "So, you believe it's all real?" I ask.

  "Maybe not, but what would it hurt to pursue it?" she says and pauses for a moment as the waitress puts our plates in front of us. "You just need to think about what she said and figure out where to go from here. Maybe, your subconscious knows the answers t
o your problems and it's trying to tell you."

  I take a bite of my sandwich. "You could be right. It all does seem a little too crazy to be real. I don't understand, though. How would I follow her?"

  Nana's eyes brighten. "Didn't you say that she said that as she held the journal out to you?"

  "That's right. Why?"

  "Maybe, she meant to follow what she did in the journal. You know . . . do the things she did and go the places she went. What other explanation could there be?"

  I stop eating and think for a moment. "I think you could be right, Nana!"

  We go straight home after lunch, and I can't wait to get back to the journal. I'm excited to have a little hope and some sort of a plan. I still don't think my mom really came to me in my dream, but it won't hurt anything to give this a try. I sprint up to my room and find the journal just where I left it on the bed. I open it up and turn to the second entry.

  "Mom," I say aloud. "If you want me to follow you, then show me the way."

  May 28, 1977

  It's been a month since I received this journal and wrote the first entry, but I haven't had much to say. There wouldn't be any point in explaining that I woke up, went to school, came home, and went to bed every single day. Yesterday was the last day of my junior year of school, and I couldn't be happier. I have always done well in school, but only because I had nothing better to do. My entire existence is nothing but dull, meaningless, and lonesome. I do have a few good girlfriends, but no one that I'm especially close to. I did meet someone today . . . a guy. I went for a walk and ended up going a couple miles down the shore back toward town. There are some big rocks down there in the side of a cliff, and I decided to climb them. I ended up finding a hidden cave, so I went in as far as I could see. I could tell that someone had been hanging out in there, and I just assumed it was some local kids until I practically ran into someone on my way out. His name is Joe. I don't know a whole lot about him, but he wants me to go swimming with him tomorrow. Could be fun, but even if it's not . . . he's still cute.

  Regina

  I immediately head out the back door and lock it behind me. My mom stated in her journal that the hidden cave is a couple miles down the shore back toward town. Unfortunately, I will have to pass Brooks' house to get there, so I hope he isn't outside. I would hate to try to explain to him that I'm going to check out some caves because my deceased mother told me to.

  As I approach his house after quite some time, I slow and watch carefully as I pass. I continue walking and think about my dream and every possible explanation. None of it makes sense.

  I see some large, jagged rocks jutting out of the cliff up ahead, and I believe I have found it. I'm not as young as she was when she climbed the rocks, so it proves to be more difficult than I imagined. After about twenty minutes of climbing and searching for any openings, I finally spot it hidden perfectly behind a rock that originally seemed to be a part of the cliff.

  I step through the narrow entrance, but, once I'm inside, the rocky corridor opens up considerably. There is a folding chair and table leaning against the wall, so I presume there is someone that still comes here. There is also a wooden box containing a lantern, some matches, a couple of towels, and a few other various items. Determined to carry out exactly what my mother did, I walk as deeply into the cave as the eerily, dim light will allow. I can't tell how far back the cave goes, but I don't really want to know that badly.

  As I eagerly walk back toward the opening, I begin noticing numerous carvings and paintings that I didn't see initially. Most of them are initials and names, but there are also some pictures and symbols. The earliest dates that I see on the wall are in the fifties and sixties. The one that catches my eye, though, is a red painted heart, and it is dated 1978. The paint is cracked and flaking off in places, but it's still very easy to distinguish what it says. Inside the heart are two names—Regina and Joe. I reach up and lightly touch her name, and I'm fully aware now that she probably spent a lot of time here.

  After some quiet reflection, I decide it's time to head back home if I want to make it back well before dark. I take one last look at the painted heart, and I blindly step toward the door. Unexpectedly, I'm knocked off balance, and I fall to the cold cave floor. I look up only to see the silhouette of a person who I, apparently, ran into as I was trying to leave. The person crouches down, and I am stunned to be looking into Brooks' icy blue eyes. He is the last person I expected to see here.

  Chapter Ten — Hideout

  Brooks:

  I wake up feeling refreshed and with a positive perspective after hanging out with Will last night. I think his presence here will help me immensely. Any sort of a distraction from my current situation is certainly a blessing. I roll out of my bed, and my feet slap against the cool, wooden floor. I stretch toward the ceiling, and a groan escapes me as a series of crackles travel up my spine. Maybe playing football last night wasn't such a great idea, after all.

  Although the bed isn't very comfortable, sleeping in one of the guest rooms proves to be quite advantageous. When Jacqueline and I would sleep in the same room, I would wake her when I got up. I'm normally an early riser, and quite often, she doesn't rise before noon. If I wake her early, it makes my day an extremely long and miserable one. Now, I can get up without that fear. I love waking early and having the house to myself. I can drink my coffee on the deck and listen to the waves instead of listening to Jacqueline explaining how terrible coffee is for me. I can eat a bowl of sugary cereal and not have to listen to Jacqueline whine when I refuse to cook an egg white omelet for her. I can watch the morning news without her complaining that she doesn't understand how I can watch something so boring.

  "Gee, Brooks," Will chuckles. "Don't get dressed just because I'm here or anything."

  Still groggy, I forgot he was even here. I look down at myself and realize I'm only wearing boxer shorts. I shrug my shoulders and grin as I sleepily stagger past him toward the kitchen, and he follows. I quietly pour two cups of coffee and slide one across the granite countertop toward him. As he picks up the mug, we both walk out the back door onto the deck.

  "Better now?" Will asks after I take my first sip of the strong brew.

  "Much better," I smile and notice him grimace as he leans back into his chair. "You too, huh?"

  "What are you talking about?" He says, trying to look unaware.

  "Well, I realized this morning that I'm getting too old to act like I'm sixteen again. I'm thinking touch football would be a wise idea next time."

  Will puffs out his chest. "Speak for yourself, man. I'm in the best shape of my life."

  "Oh, yeah? What was that look on your face when you leaned back into your chair? You look like you are in pain."

  "You're seeing things. You would just like to think I'm as old and decrepit as you are."

  Noticing he holds his ribcage with every movement, I jab at him. "Then, this doesn't hurt?"

  "Ouch!" he yells and jumps up. "Okay, you've got me!"

  He pulls up his shirt to reveal a large red and purple bruise on his side. I snicker and quickly jump to my feet to scan my own body for battle wounds—finding none. Seeing no bruises on me, Will decides I need one and quickly punches my arm. The scuffle ensues. After we knock a couple of deck chairs over and break a flowerpot, Will and I are both out of breath, laughing, and covered in red welts.

  I go back to my lukewarm coffee. "So, now that you've received your daily beating, what's on the agenda for today?"

  "What makes you think I got a beating?" He asks, gesturing toward my shoulder. "I'm pretty sure that I handed one out!"

  I look over to inspect my shoulder to find a new bruise already beginning to turn a deep shade of purple. All I can do is laugh. This brings back so many memories of our childhood, especially our teen years. We would always try to outdo one another. We would fight, race bicycles, arm wrestle, and anything else that we could make into a competition—including girls.

  I remember the two of us going to
a carnival one summer when we were about sixteen. There was this gorgeous girl named Allie that we both liked, and she actually seemed to like the both of us. We were all playing carnival games, and she casually mentioned that she liked one of the prizes—a giant stuffed panda bear. He and I each spent at least fifty dollars and over an hour trying to win that bear for her. At the exact same moment, we both won. We got our prizes and turned to give them to her, but she had already gone. We were so wrapped up in winning that she had left long before. We walked through the carnival like a couple of idiots the rest of the night carrying two giant pandas with pink bows on them.

  "Well, do you have anything planned today?" Will breaks my trance.

  "Actually, I don't. Do you have anything in mind? We can do whatever you want."

  "You did mention that you were going to call Ashton today to find out what day she is flying in. That way, we can plan our cookout, remember?"

  "Ah, the cookout," I say, rubbing my chin. "I almost forgot. You seem a little excited about it."

  He tries to keep from smiling. "Excited? Me? What do I have to be excited about?"

  "It wouldn't have something to do with the fact that I'll be inviting Laura, would it?"

  "I have no idea what you're even talking about!" he beams a sly grin.

  "Uh huh."

  "Okay, so maybe I'm a little excited about it. Who could blame me? She's hot! I don't know how you could ever just be friends with her."

  Hearing the way Will talks about her almost makes me jealous. "I don't have a choice in that matter. You know that."

  "Hey, man, I know the situation, and I hate it for you. If you really like Laura, then maybe you shouldn't set the two of us up. I don't want any problems between us."