by Jaclyn Lewis
There’s makeup in my locker. I feel like I should wear some, but I haven’t bothered to wear any since I woke up here because so far my life consists of sweating and sleeping.
Makeup feels like it would be a weird addition. Silas has never seen me with it anyway…heck, I’ve never seen me with it so why start now? And besides this isn’t supposed to be a date anyway. You’re overthinking, Genna.
Silas is every bit the gentleman as he stands when I enter the lounge. The custom is really kind of silly since he’ll just have to sit right back down again. However, it makes me feel good to be treated like a lady. And Silas--sweet Silas brought me dinner again. Today it is white fish with rice and corn. There’s even a slice of strawberry cake.
“I noticed you weren’t at dinner again today.” He says. “I don’t forget a pretty face.”
“How many pretty faces would you have forgotten in three days?”
“You have a point.” He rolls his eyes at me. “I was trying to compliment you. Just be a girl and don’t argue with my logic.”
“I thought that was part of being a girl.” I tease him. “Always arguing with your logic.”
He appreciated the witty banter and even gives me a high-five for matching him.
“Why are you so different from everyone here?” I inquire.
“I was going to ask you the same thing. You tend to stand out in a crowd, Genna. The crowds are boring.”
My heart speeds up a little at the compliment. We all wear the same clothes, eat the same food, sleep in the same beds, and yet he’s right. I feel, and he seems different somehow.
When I’m finished with dinner and there’s a lull in the chatting, Silas says, “How about we go and find a new hobby—besides musing about a past life. Let’s go to the rec center and go bowling. Maybe it will bring us as much happiness as that girl on the welcome brochure.”
I laugh as I remember the cheesy picture from our packets and tell him that it sounds like fun.
The recreation den includes a newly constructed swimming pool, a mini-golf course, a bowling alley, a volleyball court and a track that runs around it. Pavana and Erimos have already set up their own volleyball teams and compete every other Sunday.
But I already knew that because Ember told me she wanted to join. I don’t know how she could have the energy or mental focus for one more thing right now, but she does.
Silas laughs when he sees the swimming pool—its full of girls swimming laps.
“What’s so funny?” I ask him.
“I can’t swim.” He tells me. “Not only that, Carl from the kitchen told me he can’t swim either and that he hasn’t met any men here who can. Except Doctor Mitchell and some of the other ‘staff members’.” He exaggerates his air quotes in a way that makes me laugh at him and forget what he was laughing about to begin with.
“This place is filled with odd things.” I tell him.
There is music playing throughout the recreation den. They seem to favor music from long ago. At the moment we are listening to someone called “Elvis” and his lyrics make me laugh a little, but they have a fun sound and I’m surprised to find that I actually know the words to one called “Jailhouse Rock.”
Silas is a very capable bowler. He has precise coordination and seems to calculate his moves almost perfectly like a sniper.
I know how to bowl, but it feels like my body has never done it before. The first couple of rolls plunge helplessly into the gutter beside the lane, but very quickly I learn to keep that from happening, and I even end up with a decent score by the time we’re done. My brain tells me that it isn’t normal to learn this fast, but I accept it because I don’t have a recourse.
My arm hurts every time I let the ball loose and I refer to that as the reason for Silas’ easy win.
We laugh and talk like we’ve known each other for ages. I don’t think I feel anything romantic for him. I had thought maybe I would after tonight, but I really don’t.
There is a supernatural pull to him like we are meant to be together, though. I guess I’ve never been in love so maybe that’s the same thing. But just when I start to think that, I remember the way Elise felt when she looked into Andre’s eyes. She felt something more than what I feel right now. It was like he was a part of her. Like she’d rather die with him than have him ripped from her life. And it wasn’t infatuation either—it was like they were a painting made of canvas and color. Any masterpiece is incomplete when the paint is taken away, and this is how Elise loved him. And yet, despite the absence of these feelings, I could imagine spending a lifetime with Silas.
For now, I’m just happy to have someone to talk to. Our evening is filled with laughter and snow cones purchased form the snack counter. Silas tries to teach me how to whistle and I try to explain to him how to swim even though I haven’t done it since I’ve been here.
I can feel a memory coming to the surface. “I was a lifeguard.” I relay my memory to him in real-time—both of us waiting to know the rest.
“A man was adjusting his lawn chair and—and then there was blood—and then an ambulance came. And a little boy jumped into the water with a float that looked like a whale.” Its like the memories just jump around sometimes—and exactly when I don’t want them to.
“Why is it all so jumbled all the time?” I scream in frustration.
Silas is a little taken back, but I know he understands.
He feels these same things. Sometimes I think he is one of the only ones who still fights for his memories and hasn’t just resigned himself to fully accepting this life.
“The rec center’s closing. We’d better get back.” He says quietly.
We stow our bowling balls and walk toward the atrium. When we stop to part ways, he gives me a hug and says that he sincerely hopes my day is better tomorrow and that I continue to prove that I am as “tough as diamonds”. Cheesy line—but it’s his way of being sweet.
“Thanks for the great evening, Silas. I had a wonderful time. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
I head up my stairwell and he goes to his. I try to sort my feelings as I walk up to door 6-103. A few of the girls are asleep already and a few are up talking. When I go into the bathroom I see Ember reading by the light of the bulb that hangs over the sink. She’s staring at her packet.
“I didn’t have anything else to read”. She sighs. “I can’t wait until I can save up enough credits to buy a book reader I found in the market. Then, any book ever written would be at my fingertips. I really don’t know what to do with myself when I’m not working out or punching something. So I’m reading through my packet.” She whispers so she doesn’t wake the other girls.
“I’m from a city called Atlanta. I wonder what it was like there.” She says whimsically.
“Was I part of a militia bent on destroying another person before they destroyed me? Or was I a supermodel, a clerk, a mother? I got a thrill out of weapons training today and it kind of sickened me, but felt good at the same time.”
“That’s weird.”
“What’s weird? My strange love/hate relationship with myself and the militia?”
“No.” I reply. “Not that. Although, I get the feeling that should concern me a little. What you said about Atlanta. I’m from there too. So is Silas. Hold on.”
I walk into the bunkroom where there are still six girls awake. “Keira, where are you from?”
She doesn’t have to refer to her packet to answer. “Dun Laoghaire, Ireland.”
I turn to her blonde friend Kenzie and ask the same question. She too is from Dun Laoghaire, but it strikes me as odd that we all sound American. The other blond girl--River is asleep so I don’t bother asking her.
I find out that the two Asians are from Los Angeles. Kylee says that she is from Paris, France. I ask the dark-skinned girl next to her and she says that she is also from Paris. There’s no one else who’s awake.
I expected only two possible outcomes from my questioning—either all of us would turn out to be
from Atlanta or that it would just be a coincidence that only Silas, Ember, and I would share.
Instead, my questioning has morphed into another strange revelation—that those of us who look most alike are from the same cities. Something about this strikes me as deeply odd, but I can’t explain why and I’m at a dead end. I don’t even know who to ask to get these hunches answered. My roommates would probably think I were crazy if I voiced them.
With a shrug of my shoulders I tell the girls “goodnight”. They seem confused by my urgent questioning and it is obvious to me that I’m the only one who has made these connections.
But I’m wrong. Ember is alarmed even as she quietly climbs into her bunk, which is just below mine.
“What could it mean?” She whispers up at me.
My brain wants to wrestle with this new information, but my body’s need for sleep conquers.
“Maybe they keep us too tired to wonder for very long.” I sigh and quickly fall off into a deep sleep—hoping that from this night on, it will be dreamless.
Chapter 10
*
Dr. Mitchell
The schedule’s full today—even more full than it usually is. I got up early this morning so I could be on coffee cup number two by the time work started. I wonder at what point someone has a coffee “problem”? Surely losing sleep to have more of something you crave constitutes a problem of some kind. A blessed, sweet, and irreplaceable problem it is, though, so I don’t really care.
I’m just about to see my first patient when my private line rings. It’s Genna.
I knew it was only a matter of time. There’s just something about her.
“Genna, I’m really swamped today.” I tell her in a bit of overwhelmed frustration.
“Oh. I see. Well, its just…it can wait. I’m sorry to bother you.”
She’s scared and hesitating on the phone. As she should be. I had hoped I made that clear. She is unusually perceptive.
“No. I’m sorry, Genna. I’ll find time to get away. I’ll tell you what; you stop by here and get a Doctor’s note to stay home from work today. You look like you could use a break anyway. Then we’ll have lunch later.”
“You’d do that for me?” She’s surprised.
“Of course. You’re special.” Why did I just say that?
I mean, yes, she’s special. Of course she’s special. That’s why I’ve been watching her for three weeks now. I’ve been watching her--and Ember, and Silas. The way they interact, pick up on things. Genna stands out like a beautiful diamond among grains of sand. And of course Ember and Silas do…to a lesser degree. But Genna…
I almost forgot she was still on the phone. Did she hang up, or is this one of those excruciating silences?
“Ok.” She says puzzled. “See you at lunch.”
“Ok-great-thanks-bye.” I blurt out all at once.
I can tell I creeped her out. I creeped myself out a little.
Until this very moment I didn’t even realize I was so drawn to her, but I guess it’s been growing in me. Once when I was about ten years old, my sister Haley got hooked on this TV show about aliens. I thought it was so dumb. “They are so different from us. I don’t want to watch a show about dumb aliens. I want to watch a show about superheroes.” I would tell her, because I wanted to be a superhero too.
It started with just watching the last few minutes of the show with her before bedtime. Then she got me to watch an entire episode. Then before I knew it, I was setting the recorder to make sure we didn’t miss a single show together. Then she went to college and I ate an entire bag of chips while I watched the series finale with her on the phone the whole time. Haley gave me the gold edition series set as an engagement present and it was one of the only things from home I brought with me to Erimos. Some people would call me a nerd for that; I call it my own version of sentimentality.
I guess it has happened the same way with Genna. She seemed like all rest—different from me in so many ways and yet the more I pay attention, the more I realize that I can’t wait until the next episode, to see what she’ll do next, to know what makes her more like me.
Now I feel almost ashamed for keeping tabs on her—like a stalker or something which is definitely not the case. I was watching all three of them for research purposes. But then somewhere along the way I’ve become addicted to the sound of her laugh and the way her hair looks like a sunset on Earth.
I’m going to need another cup of coffee to make it to lunch.
* * *
I hate to be late anywhere, but no one seems to understand that about doctors. No matter how prompt we want to be, when you deal with a human body it all goes out the window.
I can’t believe I’m keeping her waiting, though.
Genna sits alone at a table in a far corner. She took my hints at meeting secretly to heart. That’s good.
She sees me.
I sit down across from her with a sack lunch in case I get called away. I didn’t want to waste any precious time in the lunch line—even though the food is better there.
“Hello, Genna. How are you?”
“I’m well-rested due to your doctor’s excuse note. Thank you again. I really appreciated the extra sleep.”
“It’s no problem.” I tell her. And it really wasn’t. I’d give her a thousand excuse notes to have lunch with her again.
“Did you have another dream?” I’m trying to sound more business-like now and less creepy.
“Yes.” She says. “I mean, I’ve been having other dreams—normal kinds of dreams. You know, the ones where I’m a flying monkey or I’m stuck on a ship in a storm that suddenly turns into a crocodile. I didn’t figure those were important enough to report, though.”
I chuckle. Her personality is really one of a kind.
“No…however, those sound fascinating.” I smile at her and she smiles back.
“The dreams I have of Andre are something different altogether. I was standing in front of a blank canvas. I had paints on a table in front of me and a brush in my hand. Andre asked me what I was going to paint. He said I liked to create things—even life. I felt like I wanted to express something that words wouldn’t have satisfied. Something so deep in my soul that I wouldn’t even know where to make the first stroke on the canvas in front of me. So I just stared at it. There was an ache in my heart. “Je ne sais pas.” I told him.
“I don’t know.” I translate. “I took a semester of French in High School.”
We’ve registered the “Elise and Andre dreams” and they are always the same ones. This is something new. Should I tell her? How much should I tell her? I want to tell her everything, but I can’t.
“Thank you for letting me know, Genna.” That is all I can think of to say.
She stares at me for a long time. “That’s it? I tell you I’ve had another dream—I follow your instructions to meet with you and that’s all you have to say? I know you know more than you’re telling me.”
“I do.” I admit painfully. “I know more than I’m telling, but I’m not lying when I say ‘thank you’ or that you’re special. Because I meant that.”
She seems to have softened a bit towards me. But I can see the questions building again.
“Why am I special?” She demands to know.
Because your hair reflects the sun like stars on a lake. Because when I hear your laugh, a part of me that died is reborn a little.
“Because you remind me of what it means to be human.” I tell her instead. But what I mean is that she reminds me of what it feels like to be alive.
I put my hand on hers and she pulls away. Of course. I know everything about her and she knows nothing about me.
“I’m sorry…that was silly.”
“I can’t figure you out, Doctor Mitchell.”
“Please—call me Pax.”
“One minute you tell me I’m special; the next you’re like a stone wall; then you’re all familiar with me. I don’t understand.”
“I wish you coul
d.” I wish so much that she could. The temptation is there for me to tell her what I’m thinking, but then I’m being paged back to the clinic. It’s probably a good thing in the end.
“I have to go, Genna. Don’t give up on getting answers. I do want to work through this with you, and I’ll do some research on your dream.”
“Ok. Thank you…Pax.” She smiles and I think that gives me more energy for the day than all the caffeine on Erimos.
It’s nine o’clock before I’m finally done at the clinic. Some poor girl slipped and fell on a nail head at one of the construction sites. A few stitches and she’s as good as new.
I’m tired, but I can’t stop thinking about Genna and her dream. I’ve been trying to figure out who Elise and Andre are, but every time I do a search for them in the database, nothing comes up. And I don’t just mean nothing meaningful…I mean nothing. Almost like there’s an imprint of intentional removal of information.
What was it Genna said? “You can create life.” Or was it “you do create life”? “You already create life”?
If I hadn’t been so taken with her infectious smile, I would have listened to every word more closely.
Something about that phrase seems odd. The whole thing is really. No two people should have the same dream. That just doesn’t happen. And yet, it’s happened for so long on Erimos and Pavana we just got used to it and wrote it off as a “side effect” or “anomaly”.
I keep a notebook of these dreams in my den. That’s where I keep what the snowflakes tell me about how Andre speaks, how Elise’s hair looks, and I keep a detailed list of their personality traits. One day, I’m hoping to reconstruct a personal profile on these two ghost characters and get to the bottom of it.
I know scientists do their own research, but this is personal for me—and for the snowflakes who see these apparitions in the night.
I have pages and pages detailing the dreams, but here’s what I’ve got so far on my short list of Elise:
