by Laney McMann
“Shh! She is coming around.”
“Lorelei … please.”
“You gave me your word.” My mother’s tone raged even through her whispers. “See her from afar and continue your duty, or do not do so at all. It is your choice.”
I sat up too quickly, searching for the voice, waves of nausea washing over me.
“Teine?” My mother sounded sweet, nurturing—unlike the person I’d overheard.
“Mom?” I squinted, attempting to bring my surroundings into focus, while ignoring the sickening dizziness running through my head.
“Take it easy. You need to rest.” A hand to my shoulder urged me to lie back.
“Who were you talking to?” My head pounded as I rested against crisp linens.
“When, dear?”
“Just a minute ago.” I glanced around the stark room. It was deserted except for the two of us.
“I wasn’t talking to anyone.” She eyed me with suspicion. “Should I call the nurse in?”
Panic leached into my brain, a medicinal odor tingling my nose. “What’s going on?”
“Everything is okay, Teine. Try to relax. You fell and hit your head. Do you remember? You have been in the hospital since yesterday.” She tucked the thin blanket in around me. “Devon is in the waiting room; he has been so worried. I should get him.” She turned, and I grabbed her arm.
“Wait. Can you sit down for a minute?”
“Of course.” She lifted her brow.
“Max was here,” I said, staring directly in her face.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t flinch. “Who?”
“Mom.” My jaw tightened, gaze set on hers. “I heard his voice. Where is he?”
“I have no idea who you are talking about. You do not know anyone named Max, Teine.” She stared back at me. “I am going to call for the nurse. You are starting to scare me.” She reached for the call button as Devon entered the room.
“Devon, I was just coming to get you.” Mom smiled. “Teine, I mean Layla, is up and well enough for visitors. I will give you two some privacy.” She hurried from the room.
“Why does your mom always call you that?” Devon grinned, ambling forward.
“Teine? It’s kind of a nickname.” My mom had called me Teine all my life. It was sort of a nickname she never properly explained, and I got tired of asking about.
He sat down on the edge of my bed and slipped his hand against mine. “You scared us all.”
“Sorry. I’m not sure what happened.”
“You passed out and hit your head on the counter. The doc said you had a concussion, but it’s already healed. Said he’s never seen anyone heal so fast in the twenty years he’s been practicing medicine. The bad news is you’re suffering from exhaustion.”
I sighed, unsurprised.
“Good news is … the doctor’s releasing you this evening. Sometime. Said you’ll need to take a few days off to rest, though.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks. Um … where’s my phone?”
“Why do you need your phone?” He cocked an eyebrow up.
“Hello? To check my messages. Can you get it for me?”
“Benny’s asleep in the waiting room.” He rummaged around in the corner of the room and extended his arm to me. My phone sat in his palm. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“It’s a phone, Devon.”
He handed it over and gave me a wink. “I’ll go wake her up. Don’t want her going ballistic on me.”
I checked my missed calls, text messages, emails. Nothing. Not sure what I was hoping to find, I chucked it back into the corner, and kicked the blankets loose, laying against the pillows. Of their own accord, my eyelids relaxed and closed, and I could just make out a faint spiciness in the air.
Gardenias.
••
I wander along, peeking through gaps between the trees, searching, hoping. It’s been so long since I’ve been here. Birds chirp overhead. Crisp leaves crunch under my feet, and a sweet scent drifts in from the nearby waterfall. I listen to it splashing off the rocks, inhaling a deep cleansing breath, the dampness of the forest warming my bones, before turning, heart hammering, eyes narrowing, frozen in my tracks.
Standing only a few yards away, his smile seems to fade, and he hesitates before coming closer, his hands held out in a friendly gesture, a light breeze rippling his white T-shirt across his chest.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Max’s voice is low, nervous. “You scared me.”
I don’t speak. My brain whirls, attempting to make sense of what I’m seeing.
“You’re mad at me.” He nods, and glances toward his feet, shifting the leaves around. “You should be.”
I try to take him in, comprehend him being here. All my years willing him to return, and here he stands, gazing at me, his chest falling up and down with uneven breaths.
“I’ve been hoping you’d come back. I still check now and then. Not sleeping much these days, I heard.” The corner of his mouth pulls up in a hint of a grin that I know so well.
I still can’t speak.
This isn’t real. A side affect from the concussion. More hallucinations.
Max bows his head. “Layla, please. Talk to me. You know this isn‘t a hallucination.”
“I … Did you just read my thoughts?”
He beams at me. “No. I heard them.”
I scrunch my brow, taking him in, watching the way waves of his sandy hair fall across his face.
“You can hear mine, too, if you try. You don’t remember?”
“No. Why’d you leave?” Tears sit on the verge of overflowing. I bite them back.
“I should have explained.” He kicks at the ground. “I was trying to protect you.” Clear eyes cloud over with sorrow as he gazes into my face. “Forgive me?”
I eye him back, puzzled. “You were talking to my mom in the hospital.”
“Yeah, I wanted to make sure you were all right.” He takes a cautious step forward, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“She asked you to stay away from me?”
“For your safety, yes.” His voice remains low and uncertain.
“For my safety?” My throat tightens, heartache rising. “You were my best friend, and you left!” Tears roll down my face, anger burning my chest. “I needed you, and you were gone!”
He rushes forward with arms out but recoils. “It killed me to leave. You must know that.”
“I only know that I never saw you again.” My face flushes with heat, fury overriding sadness. “I’m delusional. Something is wrong with me. You can’t be real!”
He grins, shaking his head. “I forgot how mad you can get. You’re not delusional, you know. Your mom just won’t let me see you. I’m breaking the rules right now.”
I glare at him.
“You don’t believe me?” He runs his hand through his hair and glances around the forest. “Listen, I can’t explain everything right now … and you probably wouldn’t believe me if I did.” Walking forward, he grabs my hand, warmth radiating up my arm, and gives me a sideways grin. “Come on.”
“What?” I glance away, finding it difficult to concentrate.
“I’ll race you to the falls.” He crouches, still smiling at me.
“You want to race?” I have the urge to pull away my hand, now tingling with tiny shocks. “You’ve lost your mind, or I have since this is my hallucination.” I give a weak laugh.
“You’re not hallucinating.” He huffs. “Trust me, please. Now, when I say go, go. Okay?”
I shrug.
He squeezes my hand, electricity racing up my arm. “Go!” He takes off, practically dragging me behind him. The rich smell of the forest inundates my senses. Cushioned grass under my feet, Max’s steady breathing, the wind in my hair—all come rushing back. He laughs—the sweetest sound I know.
“Believe me now?” His voice carries over the wind rushing by my ears.
I smile and le
t go of his hand, speeding passed him.
“Layla, wait!” He reaches for my hand, and we leap off the ledge and plunge into the pool below, Max gripping my hand as if it’s a life raft, until our heads break the surface.
Water streams down his face. “I missed you so much. Please forgive me.”
“I missed you, too.” My voice hitches, as he gazes into my eyes. I splash him in the face. “Don’t leave again.”
“I won’t.
• • •
4
I woke in my own bed, with a crick in my neck, hair damp, head spinning, wondering how I’d made it home from the hospital without any recollection.
The sun sat below the horizon, sending a pale pink tinge across the surface of the water. Sunrise. Stillness penetrated the room. I laid an arm over my eyes, my throbbing head aching a little under the touch. With exhaustion still rolling through my body, the resonance of another impossible vision clattered in my thoughts.
Something moved from within the shadows.
I jumped and stared wide-eyed into the face of my hallucination.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He sat on the edge of my bed. “Can I get you anything?”
I closed my eyes again. “I’ve officially lost my mind.” I wondered whether the doctor had been wrong about my quickly healed concussion. I’d obviously done more harm to my already damaged brain.
“Your head is fine.” He chuckled, and the bed shook. “I told you I wouldn’t leave.” He winked at me.
I ignored the apparition, climbed out of bed, and stared into the bathroom mirror. My hair had little twigs in it, like I’d been thrashing around outdoors all night. I yanked them out and pulled the mass on top of my head, pinning it down.
“What are you doing?” my hallucination asked, concern lacing his words as I grabbed my dance bag off the floor. “You need to rest.”
“I can’t hear you.” I stuck my fingers in my ears.
He laughed as I walked out my bedroom door, down the stairs and out of the house.
“Teine! Where are you going? You were just released from the hospital!” My mom ran after me, but I slid into my car and pulled away, rolling my window down with the crank, trying to push the vision of Max out of my head, and convince myself I was sane.
The sun lifted above the horizon in a blinding blaze. Sweet salt air drenched with the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle bathed my face as I leaned out the open window and inhaled a deep breath.
I loved the South. Giant oaks canopied the roads. Spanish moss swayed in the breeze, and waves crashed endlessly along the shore. The peace was undeniable. If only I could keep the same sense of tranquility in my life.
Driving past the bend of US 1, I pulled onto the shoulder, and sat watching surfers as they paddled out in the flat ocean, probably hoping for bigger waves that would never come. The East coast was notorious for flat surf in the summer; our waves were big in the chill of winter and the height of hurricane season.
The school parking lot filled slowly as I sat parked, regretting that I ran out of the house. Benny leaned against the crumbling brick wall outside the dance studio, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at me.
“What happened?” Her usual accusing tone reared up as I walked toward her.
“What are you talking about?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Why are you here?”
I scowled at her. “Why are you here?” Only lead dancers and their understudy’s had practice so early, and Benny wasn’t a lead.
“I’m here because … because I am.” She muttered along, following closely beside me.
“Benny.” I stopped and stared her square in the face. “Stop. I’m okay.”
“Fine.” She stomped off toward the dressing room.
I rubbed my head and headed in the other direction.
The sun continued to rise and stream through the pale muted windows of the dance studio as I sat waiting for the others who wandered in, yawning and tugging on their ballet slippers. With aching, tight muscles, I took my usual place in the front of the studio to begin our warm- ups.
“Layla?” Ms. Trudy’s stern tone echoed through the stillness of the room. “No, no, my dear. I will not have my lead dancer here two days after a concussion. Go home.”
“But …” I need to dance. To feel normal. Even if only for an hour.
She shook her head. “I will not risk your health. You may stay and watch, but no rehearsals for you.” She turned her back and began the music, ending the discussion.
I slumped over to the side of the dance floor and sank down. Dena took my place in the front, gloating with her smug face. Idiot.
The great thing about attending a performing arts high school was being able to dance everyday and having my other classes take a back seat. The bad thing—on the days I couldn’t dance, all there was left were the other classes.
I decided to check myself out early. Mrs. Blake, our school nurse, gave me a sympathetic hug, making me promise I would take better care of myself, and listen to my doctor’s orders, before handing me my release slip.
Afraid of what I would find lurking in my bedroom, I spent the rest of the day driving around aimlessly, surprised Benny wasn’t tailing me, or texting every two seconds asking where I was.
Queen palms swayed in the ocean breeze as I hesitantly pulled into my driveway that evening. The giant red hibiscus lining the front walk struggled to stay upright against the increasing wind. Our faded tan with cream shutter Key-West-style house sat back off the road, its silver metal roof glinting in the sun. I loved our house—the way the wooden planks creaked under my feet, and the damp salty air rushed in from the ocean, and how the oversized windows glittered in the afternoon light.
As I walked inside, our heavy front door creaked.
“Well, hello, Layla.”
Great. My mother never called me Layla.
“Feeling okay? I hope, since I would know no different after you sped from the house!”
“Sorry. I’m fine … I guess.” I smiled a little, trying to distract her questioning gaze.
Although she continued staring at me, she didn’t push, surprisingly. After changing out of my dance clothes and putting on clean jeans, I decided to help with dinner. It seemed like the most obvious diversion, so I cut the potatoes while Mom continued glancing toward me. We ate on the back porch, and I tried to make small talk while pushing food around my plate.
“Do you want to tell me what is going on with you?” The lines on my mother’s forehead deepened. She knew when something was wrong, and she also knew if I wanted to talk, I would.
Even if I had wanted to talk, which I didn’t, I had no idea what I would possibly say. ‘I saw Max again. You remember Max. Oh, and I’m losing my mind, too.’ That wouldn’t have gone over well. She’d have had me admitted into the psych ward that night.
“Nothing’s going on, Mom.” An impending storm held my attention as I stared past her at the ocean, quickly becoming an unorganized mess of waves and white caps. Gusts rattled the wind chimes above my head and made the ceiling fan creak back and forth as it tried to glide around in its smooth continuous circle.
My mother sighed. “You are suffering from exhaustion. You will not be able to keep up the same pace next year.”
I pushed my chair back, the legs grinding against the wood floor, and rested my forehead on the edge of the table. “I’m doing my best,” I said into my lap. “How do you think I have the lead in the show?”
“Teine, sit up, please. This is important.”
I raised my head, resting it lazily against my arm.
“Thank you. I know how talented you are. That is not what I am trying to say. I need to know what is going on with you.”
I needed to know the answer to that question as well. “Wish I could tell you.” I shrugged and stood up. “Wish I knew,” I said, heading toward the screen door.
“Don’t walk away from me.”
I stopped. “I’ll be okay, Mom
, really.”
“I hope you know you can come to me about anything.” She bowed her head.
I closed the door behind me. You wouldn’t understand. No one would.
No stars shined in the blackened, turbulent sky as I made my way toward the shoreline, sea oats rustling in the wake of the approaching storm. My vision adjusted to the dimming light. Squinting, I glimpsed the outline of a moving shadow, my gaze falling on him from a distance.
The one watching me from the dunes.
His shape appeared blurred and indistinct, like he wore a cloak that rippled with the wind. Tilting his head, his focus abruptly changed to somewhere behind me. I shifted my weight, only to find another figure a few yards away, hidden by darkness, standing near the water’s edge.
My hands pulsed, a strange heat puddling into my palms, and I backed up, rubbing them against the front of my jeans. My chest rose and fell with stabs of uneven breaths, and an ear splitting cackle rang out along the beach.
“You think you can protect her?” The cloaked figure took a step away from the sand dunes and stood on the vacant shoreline, facing me.
I glanced to my right and left, trying to master some type of control, or comprehension, wondering whether I should run, scream, or fight.
“We haven’t met, have we, Teine?” The voice rang out again. “Or should I call you Layla now?” He laughed. “As if a different name could hide you.” He took a step forward. “You’ve been difficult to find, I’ll give you that. Much harder than your father was.”
My father?
Stumbling over my feet in the loose sand, my hands blazing, I tried to back farther away. Clenching my fists, barely able to stand the heat, I realized, too late, that I was backing toward the other person on the beach. I stopped, steadying myself. Only a hallucination. Side affect from the concussion.
“Together again, I see.” The figure yelled out over the howling wind and took another few steps in my direction. “How wonderful.” He shifted his stance toward the person standing near me. I moved to the side, tripping over my feet again, and attempted to keep both figures in my sight. Glancing toward my back porch light shining in the distance, I figured I could make it if I ran. Maybe. Yet something told me not to move.
