"What's this, Mommy?" he asks, pointing to the notebook.
"It’s Daddy's notebook."
"Oh yeah," he responds quietly.
"You've seen this before?" I ask.
He looks at me with his large blue eyes and doesn't flinch. He knows something and I wish he didn't—or maybe I do. This is too much for a four-year-old to handle.
"Mommy?"
I look over at his sweet face. "Yes, Sammy?"
"Daddy loves you so much, and me too." He smiles.
"I know he did." I hug him tightly, feeling the pain begin to emerge again. I have to be strong for Sammy.
Sammy pulls away and places his hands on my shoulders. "He still does."
I nod my head, wishing I could understand the depths of Sammy's knowledge. The older he becomes, the less I can figure out where his mind is.
"Mommy, read Daddy's notebook tonight. Okay?" He lifts up the book and hands it to me. "Promise, Mommy?"
"I will, sweetie." I place it back down on the bed. "Come on, let's get you tucked in." I pick him up and he wraps his arms and legs around me tightly.
Alex normally puts him to bed, but he won't ever get to do that again. I'm a single mom. I never imagined my life turning out this way. I wonder if Sammy really understands that Alex is gone, for good.
Probably not, I suppose. How can a four-year-old understand what forever means?
As I walk across the hallway, I see Celia sitting silently on the couch, staring out the window. Her eyes are wide and she looks like a zombie. The boy she raised since seven-years-old is gone. She's been his mother in so many ways, and she had been the most important person in his life. I wonder if her pain is similar to mine. It has to be worse.
I place Sammy down on his bed and pull a pair of pajamas out of his top dresser drawer. "Is Scooby-Doo okay tonight?" I ask, holding up the pajamas in the air.
He nods his head as I walk over to the bed. I silently help him get dressed and he stares at the empty wall in front of him. After a minute or so of losing his attention, he finally looks back to me and smiles—an Alex smile. I can't help but to smile at that little face, no matter how much I'm hurting. He will always remind me of Alex, and I'm thankful to have a part of him that's still here. I pull the sheet up to his chin and hand him his favorite teddy bear that Alex gave to him on his second birthday. “Will you be okay in here yourself tonight?” I ask.
He nods his head and closes his eyes. I’m guessing there won’t be any more demon birds at his window tonight. I shut the lights off and tell myself I can stop being brave now.
I walk out into the living room to check on Celia, who hasn't moved an inch from where I saw her a few minutes ago. I nudge her shoulder, but she still doesn't move.
"Celia?" I kneel down in front of her and shake her a little harder.
She's gone. Her mind isn’t here anymore, and why should it be? First the attack by a gray suit, then Alex dying—it must have been too much for her. I can't say I blame her. But I need her right now, selfish or not—she's all I have besides Sammy.
I place a blanket over her lap and head back to my very empty bedroom. The only thing my eyes can focus on is the notebook that I don't want to read. I promised Sammy I'd read it, but how could he possibly know what's inside?
I climb into my cold bed and place my legs under the uninviting comforter. I fluff my pillow and lean back with a box of tissues in one hand and the notebook in my other. “Alex, you better not make me cry anymore today,” I say out loud, wondering if he can hear me.
I re-open the notebook again to the first page and take a deep breath before focusing on the first word.
ALEX
I feel like my life is restarting today. I've spent the last few months looking for an opportunity to speak to her. But it never seemed like a good time. I watched as Chloe appeared and disappeared from the beach near my house in San Diego. Most of the time she’s looked hurt, lonely, and confused. I had the feeling she was too fragile to be approached. So, I didn't.
Today, however, she was drowning—not like a normal person swimming out into a riptide and losing their bearings, but a special person, like us who drifted at the wrong time in the wrong place. As I was walking down the shore, I saw a bunch of people staring at this poor girl who looked to have fallen asleep too close to the tide. No one was helping her or trying to save her—they were all just gawking.
At first, I didn't know it was Chloe, but as I got closer, my heart stopped beating when I saw her beautiful long auburn hair, fair skin and reddish freckles that made her face look like it had always been sun kissed. I didn't know if she was dead or alive—I just knew I had to try and save her.
My eyes settled on her blue lips, and I silently cursed all of the witnesses for not helping this poor girl out of the water. What is wrong with people, really? Who would just watch someone drown in less than a foot of water?
Anyway, I pulled her out and onto the sand. She wasn't breathing and neither was I. The one girl I knew I had to be with more than anything was lying in front of me, suffocating by water.
That wasn't how I intended our lips to touch for the first time. I had always imagined it being a little more romantic, but nevertheless, the second my lips touched hers it was as if I tasted life for the first time. My heart that had stopped beating moments earlier, felt as if it had been hit by lightening and overcharged by electricity.
I blew my air into her mouth, praying that it was enough to keep her alive. I needed her to be alive, because I had never felt so alive. And it wasn't fair for me to feel like that alone.
After a dozen breaths, I felt her chest beneath my hand move up and down. An uncontrollable smile stretched across my face, and I blew one more gust of air into her warm lips.
I pulled my face away slowly, watching her eyes struggle to open. Her green eyes—the color of summer's grass surrounded by a ring of forest green and speckled with tiny blue sparkles focused on my face. Her cheeks reddened as her eyes studied me, but I don't think she remembered who I was. I think she was embarrassed to have a stranger so close. And that’s all I was to her: a stranger.
She sat up quickly—disoriented and confused. Humiliation struck her face when she saw the people who did nothing to save her all standing there—all of them standing there and watching her every move. I tried to comfort her. I needed to make sure she was okay. I knew it was only seconds before she'd run from me, and I have no clue when I'd get another chance to talk to her.
Oh man, I need to be with her so badly. I think I might love her, and she doesn't even know who I am.
He was in love with me that first day we officially met? That explains why he was looking at me the way he was. I had no idea he had been missing me for all of those years. I was kind of mean to him that first week. I didn't believe him and I thought he was some psycho. I wish I could take it back now. He's never been anything but patient with me, and I've done nothing but cause problems or be the cause of problems. He didn't deserve that and I didn't deserve him.
I turn to the next page in the notebook, and I notice that the writing is different. It's similar but all of the letters have sharp corners.
ALEX
Another day in the dark today. I can't stand that fucking hospital anymore. Everyone thinks I'm brain dead and trying to kill myself. No one knows that I'm fully aware of what's going on. I just can't speak. It's like the connection between my brain and my mouth was cut. They treat me like I've done something bad. I opened the window to get some fresh air today, and before I could inhale the incoming breeze, four hands wrapped around my body and dragged me away. They placed that damn straitjacket around me so tight that my ribs hurt now. They think I have anger issues, and truth be told, I do. But it's because I can't tell anyone that I'm there and I can think on my own. Yeah sure, sometimes I might be more out of it than other times, but a lot of the time there is a mind behind the eyes that they all seem to think are dead. It's infuriating that they gave up on me years ago. I hate that p
art of me. I hate being in that place I'm supposed to refer to as my real life. It's so much easier living here with Celia. I shouldn’t have drifted back to a reality that’s really only a nightmare.
I had no idea he was suffering so much. He always made it sound like he had these multiple realities under control. It kind of sounds like that wasn't quite the case. They were pretty rough with him at the institution, but it was because he couldn't communicate and he was angry all of the time. I wish I had known, and I wish I had tried to help him more. I can't read anymore tonight.
This is killing me.
I close the notebook and place it on Alex's pillow. It’s all I have left of him now. I pull his pillow into my body and hold it tightly.
I squeeze my eyes shut and visualize the room my body is in at Charlie’s house.
Darkness that will always remain dark now…
When I feel the contours of the bed beneath me shift, I know it's safe to open my eyes.
Lying in the position I'm in, I can see Charlie across the room, sitting on Alex's bed. She's staring at the wall with puffy swollen eyes.
"Hi," I croak out of my mouth without shifting my body.
Charlie nearly falls to the floor when she hears my voice and scampers over to the bed I'm lying in. "Chloe, oh my goodness. I'm so sorry, Chloe. I'm so sorry. I don't know how this happened? I don't remember leaving that window unlocked. I don't know how I could have been so stupid, Chloe. This is entirely my fault," she cries.
Her hands are wrapped around my arm, almost pleading for me to say something. This wasn't her fault. This is what Alex needed. I know there was a method behind his madness. I just haven't figured it out yet.
I place my other hand over Charlie’s white knuckles and say, "Charlie—"
"Stop, Chloe. I'm so sorry. Sammy, what about Sammy? He doesn't have a dad anymore, because of me," she continues crying.
"Charlie, shh. This is what Alex needed. He knew it was coming and he said it had to happen this way. I still don't know why, but this was his destiny," I explain.
"Why do you seem so calm about this?" she sniffles.
"What choice do I have?" I prop myself up against the wall. "I have to trust that he had a plan. Alex always had a plan.” I sigh. “When did you call the police?"
"A couple of hours ago. I told them there was a dead man outside of my house. They said they would be back soon for a more in-depth investigation. They're probably going to think I killed him," she says, squeezing her hands together.
"Maybe at first, but I'm sure they'll eventually figure out he did this to himself," I say, trying to calm her worries.
"Chloe, even if I'm lucky enough for them to think that, they'll soon realize he was an escapee from the hospital and they'll put two-and-two together. I'm done."
Not only is Alex gone, but now Charlie is going to lose her job and could possibly be arrested for not reporting a missing person.
"What can I do, Charlie?" I slide my hand over hers. "This is all my fault."
"I'll worry about this, Chloe. You're grieving right now. You don't need to worry about me too," she says, pulling me in for a hug.
"Do you know what hospital he was taken to?" I ask.
"UMass Memorial. He's probably already in the morgue though. You shouldn’t go there. Once they figure out who you are, they'll put you between padded walls again. But because he has no family, they'll probably have a small service in the hospital chapel. If you call the hospital tomorrow, they might have a better idea as to when it would be. If you insist on going to the service, which I would completely understand, you should make sure your face is somewhat concealed so no one recognizes you."
"Got it," I say softly. The thought of going to Alex's funeral is suddenly more than I can handle. That makes this all official, and I'm not ready for that yet.
"You should go back to Sammy, Chloe," Charlie says.
"I feel terrible leaving you alone in this situation," I say.
"It's okay. Just go be with Sammy. He needs you right now. I'll be okay."
“I’ll be back tomorrow, Charlie.” I give her another hug and climb back into my bed.
I focus on Sammy, my little Alex. I focus on how cold San Diego suddenly seems. I focus on how hard my life is going to be without him.
Pain seeps through the open wounds in my heart. Each time I drift, the ache increases. Desolation grows within my soul. My heart beats to a different rhythm. My heart will never beat the way it did when I saw Alex.
My body sinks into the bed and knife-like tingles sweep across my skin. The faint orange light in my bedroom burns through my eyelids.
Emptiness feels heavy like an iron weight.
I’ve felt depression before. I’ve felt sorry for myself before. Alex removed those feelings from my life and replaced them with happiness and love. That has been stripped away, leaving me with pain, morbidity, and more darkness.
I cross my arms behind my head while leaning back against my unforgiving pillow and close my eyes.
Alex.
It’s all I can see. His feet pointing to the sky, his legs flat against the ground. Weakness. I can hear his voice.
I need this pain to stop.
I suck in a deep breath of air until my lungs can’t hold any more air. I close my mouth and pinch my nose. I concentrate on the swirled lines of the ceiling, waiting for numbness to set in. I don’t want to die. I just don’t want to feel anything. My heart starts beating frantically, answering the crying screams of my constricted lungs. First the pain increased, making me want to panic, but now it feels good. Euphoric. My lips tingle, and my head presses harder into the pillow. My toes go numb, then my legs, my waist, my stomach, my chest and arms, and now my head. I feel nothing. It feels good. I wonder if this is what dying feels like? Like nothingness.
CHAPTER TWELVE:
UNCONSCIOUS LOVE
IT'S 2:00 A.M., my eyes are closed, but I’m awake. The numbness subsided an hour ago, and now I feel pain again. I wonder how long I can go without sleep? I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to shut my mind off again, and yet, that’s all I want to do.
Irritated with my mind, I prop myself up against the headboard and swipe the notebook from my nightstand. I sweep my hand over the leather cover and open the notebook to where I left off earlier.
ALEX
What a day—finding Chloe unconscious in my backyard was such a horrifying moment. She was covered in blood from head to toe and I couldn't wake her, no matter what I did. I can't for the life of me figure out what happened to her. I know her mother keeps pretty tight reins on her, so how could she have gotten this hurt?
After sitting with her for a bit, trying to snap her out of her unconsciousness, I lifted her up in my arms and carried her upstairs to my bedroom. We've only hung out a few times, so I didn't know how she'd react to waking up in my bed. I'm still not even sure we're emotionally on the same page. I tried to kiss her the other night when I pointed out the shooting star, but she wouldn't even look at me. I had seen that shooting star before; I knew that moment was coming. I just didn’t know how it would play out. I was hoping differently, I guess.
I couldn't take my eyes off of her lips. They were shimmering in the moonlight, inviting me in, but her eyes were lost in the ocean and couldn't have been farther away from mine.
She has to wake up. I feel like I'm going to lose my mind right now. There's so much I need to tell her. Please God, make Chloe be okay.
I close the notebook and toss it back onto the nightstand, causing a bunch of scrap papers to fly out from the last page. They float down onto the bed, showing that it's a torn up letter.
I place all of the pieces together. It appears to be a note from Alex.
ALEX
Chloe-
You must go home to your mother. Bring Sammy with you. Everything you need, you will find there. You can't live in this non-existent reality anymore. I know this isn't what you want to hear, and that's the exact reason I didn't tell you before I lef
t. Just, please—
Love,
Alex
He wants me to go back to that hellhole? Is he out of his mind? No, never mind—he doesn't have a mind anymore. He destroyed it and mine as well. Besides, I will not bring Sammy home to that wench. God knows what she would do to him. If this life isn't real, then neither is this stupid note. He ripped it up. Maybe he didn’t mean for me to see it. Maybe he changed his mind.
I brush the papers off of my bed and walk back down to the living room where Celia was.
She's gone. Of course. Why wouldn't she be gone? Why? It's because I need her right now. "What the hell, Celia!" I yell to an empty room. This drift is disintegrating around me. It seems to be what happens when Alex isn’t around.
My voice must have carried too loudly down the hall since I hear Sammy moving around his bedroom. I quickly walk toward his room to try and settle him down, but I end up meeting him halfway down the hall. He runs into me and wraps his arms around my legs.
"Mommy, do what Daddy said. I'll meet you there."
"What are you talking about, Sammy?" I ask.
"The letter. You have to listen to him."
"Sammy, that letter was torn up. He obviously didn't mean for me to read it."
"Yes, he did," he says, grabbing my hand. "Just go. I'll meet you there." He hugs me again and starts toward his bedroom.
“Honey,” I try to stall him, unable to think clearly. “We need to do this the right way. We need to drift to Aunt Charlie’s house. Do you understand?” Without a question he skips off into his room, growling, and making monstrous noises of excitement.
I reenter my bedroom and pace around in circles, contemplating what to do. Why am I purposely going to go and admit myself to my own personal asylum at my parents’ house? And drag Sammy there on top of it. Why would Alex even ask me to do that?
I walk back into his bedroom to tell him I'm not going, but he's standing in front of me with a smile on his face. “I know I have to drift to Aunt Charlie’s. That’s where we’re awake all of the time, right?“
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