by Amanda Paris
I arrived to English before Ben. For once, everyone pored over their books. We had begun studying poetry. Ms. May required us to memorize a love poem and recite it in front of the class that day. I had chosen Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116, thinking of Damien when I read it. I had to believe that nothing could ever stand in our way.
When class began, I volunteered first, wanting to get the recital over as soon as possible. Careful not to look in Ben’s direction, I focused instead on Damien’s face, which gave me courage. I closed my eyes, clearing my voice and trying to force out the trembling before I started. I could feel myself blushing, but couldn’t help it. I took a deep breath and began.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
I thought of Damien as I said those lines. Yes, I thought our love would bear out all things, and we had already faced the edge of doom. A feeling of intense happiness filled me. I smiled, feeling the blush creep into my face for a different reason as I considered the possibility that I would see him again in person.
“Thank you, Emily,” Ms. May said, snapping me out of my daydream. I realized I was still standing in front of everyone with my eyes closed.
As I returned to my seat, I heard Ben drop his pencil, causing me instinctively to look up. He stared at me intently, the first time I could remember since he’d started seeing Angela.
Ben raised his hand to volunteer next. So he wanted to get it over with too.
As he began, I consciously avoided his gaze, but I could feel the force of his love as he said lines that seemed to speak directly to our past. He’d chosen Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet XLIII, a poem we’d read aloud together many times before.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
He said the lines with such passion, and his gaze never wavered, compelling me finally to look at him. There could be no question that he meant me when he said those lines. I knew what it meant to love someone after death. Did Ben feel about me the way I felt about Damien? A terrible dread filled me. Was there no end to this pain?
I felt the unbidden tear roll down my face. Where would this end? Where could it? I realized that I still loved Ben despite the inescapable drawing from the past. And yet, it lacked something now, something I needed. Love itself had altered, and I could not return to the young girl I had been. What was comfortable, familiar to me could no longer satisfy my soul. The first time I saw Damien in my dreams, I felt something beyond myself, almost beyond the capacity for human experience, an ecstasy of our speaking souls communicating across time. A coup de foudre, a sudden, overwhelming love.
My love for Ben felt real but ultimately sublunary, not a sublime force of nature. Damien had had the power to call me from across the grave. A normal human relationship—even as good as the one I’d had with Ben—just couldn’t compare. Damien and I existed on some other, ethereal plane where we needed no corporeal form to express our love. It transcended the body.
My hands shook, and I knew I would cry in earnest in a few moments. I couldn’t help it, but others had begun to notice, including Ben. I needed desperately to get away. I decided to use my power, concentrating hard and finally hearing my wish come true. The fire alarm went off.
I started to collect my books, meaning to leave the room last, when I heard his voice.
“You don’t get your things during a fire drill,” Ben said, standing in front of my desk.
“There’s no fire,” I said, not looking at him to hide my tears.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“I just do, okay?” I snapped at him, sobbing and running out of the classroom.
I heard Ben call out to me, but I didn’t look back. I felt the keys in my pocket, and I headed for the parking lot. I knew I’d get detention for skipping the rest of the day, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t take this agony anymore.
I realized when I got outside that I hadn’t driven to school that day. I was stuck. The school was several miles away from Aunt Jo’s house. If I left now, I’d have to walk. I started for the road home, which ran parallel to the gym. Storm clouds had gathered, and an ominous thunder clap threatened rain. I didn’t have long to wait. The skies opened to a torrent of water, pelting my face, already wet with tears.
“Emily,” I heard a voice shout behind me.
Ben had followed me, catching me by the arms to stop me before I could escape the parking lot.
For one moment, I wanted to give in to the temptation of running into his arms. It would be so easy, so right, wouldn’t it?
As it was, I had little choice. I stood there, sobbing in the rain, and I didn’t know who the tears were for. I’d shed them every night for two months when I knew I’d lost Damien, but I knew that I cried for Ben too.
He put his arms around me in front of the entire school, which had come out, annoyed at having to stand outside in the rain for what turned out to be a false alarm.
A muffled voice blared over the loudspeaker. They were calling all of us back in, but Ben and I just stood there, him holding me in his strong arms.
I don’t know how long we remained like that—it could have been two minutes or two hours—but he offered to drive me home, and I said yes. I’d worry about how I would get him out of detention later.
When we got into his pick-up, neither of us said anything for several minutes. Ben finally broke the silence.
“Emily, I know you’re not coming back to me, but I just want to know why.”
He didn’t sound angry or bitter, just terribly, terribly sad.
I gulped. I owed him something, even if it was a half-truth.
“You’re right. Why don’t we pull over?” I said nervously. I didn’t want to explain this in front of Aunt Jo.
Ben slowed down, turned off the main road, and then shut off the engine. He looked at me expectantly.
I took a deep breath.
“I met Damien some time ago,” I started, not knowing exactly where this was headed.
“How long ago?” he asked, clearly wanting specifics. This was getting harder.
“When I was a small child,” I equivocated. That was true—it was just in my past life.
“You mean, before you met me?”
“Yes.”
“In Colorado?”
“Um, no.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It was in England.”
“But you’ve never been to England…”
“Yes, actually, I have.”
“You never told me that. When was this?”
“A really long time ago.”
“How old were you?”
How old was I? I thought I remembered being around five when my father—in my past life—had brought Damien to the castle.
“Five.”
Ben eyed me suspiciously.
“Emily, are you lying to me?”
Yes and no.
“Ben, listen to me. It’s a strange story, and you wouldn’t believe it anyway.”
“Try me.”
I stared at him, not wanting to answer him but not able to look away, either. He deserved more than what I’d given him.
Here goes, I thought, not sure yet what I was about to tell him. I took another deep breath.
“Do you remember last fall, when I started having those dreams?”
“Yes, I remember,” he said in a voice letting me know that he would never forget. That was the beginning of the end for us.
I suddenly decided to tell him everything—nothing improvised or made-up. Just the truth. What did I have to lose? He already thought I was crazy, making up Damien just to get away from him. So I told him everything and watched his eyes, which never strayed away from my face. He didn’t say a word until I’d finished.
I finally ended my strange story and fell silent. Ben didn’t say anything for a few minutes. I knew it would take awhile for what I’d told him to register.
“Emily, are you serious?” he finally asked.
“Completely.”
Would he believe me? I could tell he was trying to decide if I was crazy or not.
“Ben, if I showed you what I can do, would you believe me?”
“Maybe,” he said skeptically.
“Choose something—anything. And I’ll be able to change it with my mind,” I said, now anxious to show some proof that I wasn’t completely insane.
“Alright, make it stop raining,” Ben challenged.
I imagined a bright day, not having to think too hard to change it. I didn’t have to work nearly as much as I did even a month ago. The more I used my power, the easier it became. Ramona had explained to me that it was like a muscle.
The rain began to let up, and the sun came out.
He looked at me in amazement.
“You did that?” he asked incredulously.
I nodded and could feel myself blushing.
“No wait. That could have been coincidence,” he said, disbelieving his own eyes. I couldn’t blame him.
“Alright, then pick something else,” I said quietly.
“Do you see that billboard?” he asked, pointing to the large black-and-white canvas, an ad for a local newspaper.
I nodded.
“Can you change that?” he asked.
It took almost no effort at all.
I changed the board to match a Monet painting of lilies, the same poster I had plastered on the wall in my bedroom at home. I knew Ben would recognize it immediately.
I looked over to him. He’d stopped breathing for a minute.
“Emily, you really are a…”
“A witch,” I finished for him. He looked at me with new eyes. I wondered if my telling him the truth would achieve what all my other efforts could not. Would he now reject me because of what I was?
He started the truck again, and we rode in silence the rest of the way home. I noticed that Ben’s hand shook a little as he shifted gears.
When we got home, I saw that the Saratoga was gone and remembered that Aunt Jo decided to go to Daytona to have her hair done for the day. She only went once a year. But I still didn’t think it was a good idea to invite Ben to come in.
He seemed to understand. He sighed audibly and turned to me.
“Emily, it makes no difference to me. If it works out in March for you, fine, but if it doesn’t…” He stopped, but I knew what he meant. He was trying to tell me that he still wanted me even knowing I loved someone else. My voice caught. I did love him, had loved him for years. It just wasn’t strong enough. Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t ignore what I felt for Damien, who called to me across time.
Before I got out, I looked at Ben, really looked at him. He put out his hand, reaching over to smooth back my hair as he had a thousand times before. I didn’t say anything, but I felt all the weight of our past suddenly pushing me forward. I pulled Ben to me, kissing him harder than I ever had before. I tried to let my lips say what my heart could not.
I broke off suddenly. It was too late to turn back.
“Goodbye, Ben,” I said without looking at him. I quickly opened the door to go for the last time. This time, I meant it.
Chapter Ten
"Flight"
If you came this way,
Taking any route, starting from anywhere,
At any time or at any season,
It would always be the same: you would have to put off
Sense and motion…prayer is more
Than an order of words, the conscious occupation
Of the praying mind, or the sound of the voice praying.
T. S. Eliot, “Little Gidding”
Since the day I’d told Ben who and what I was, he’d left me alone, but a new sadness had come into his eyes. And I didn’t think it had anything to do with Angela Rossi.
Ben didn’t have to wait for rumor to reach Angela. She’d seen us embracing the day of the fire alarm and immediately dumped Ben. Even though I disliked Angela, I still felt terrible. Ben deserved someone, and I’d wrecked their relationship.
I had no real doubt that Ben could get her back, but he didn’t try. And I didn’t use my power this time. Ben likely already suspected I’d locked the door that afternoon in the mentoring center.
Though we’d agreed to be friends, even sitting together again at lunch, Ben and I didn’t talk much. It was too hard for both of us, and I needed to focus on preparing for the upcoming trip.
March approached, and I felt both nervous and more excited than ever before. I couldn’t wait to try my power and bring Damien back from the past.
When the actual morning of the trip arrived, Aunt Jo took me to the airport in Daytona. I’d decided not to meet everyone at school first and ride on the bus. As we drove, she repeated all the safety rules she’d told me the night before.
“Yes, Aunt Jo, I promise not to lose my passport. No, Aunt Jo, I won’t go off alone by myself,” I assured her, hating that I had to lie. If she only knew, I thought.
It was essential that I travel alone by train to find the chapel in the woods, and I’d already planned for this by approaching Mr. Dean and telling him I had family near Salisbury that I wanted to see. He looked at me skeptically, but didn’t say no outright. I thought I could easily elude him for a day. And that was all the time I needed to cast the spell.
I was not yet sure what my story would be once I brought Damien to the present, but I’d worry about that later. Perhaps I could bring him back as a distant relative or friend of a cousin. I’d actually already called the airline and booked him a one-way ticket home with me, hoping that I’d be able to bring him back. Ramona had felt confident, and so did I. The practical details were the least of my worries.
A few days before the trip, Mr. Dean finally told me he had no problem with my detour as long as Aunt Jo approved. This was a bit trickier. Using my power, I produced a note ostensibly written by her. It was much better than a forgery since it actually was her handwriting. I thought he might call Aunt Jo to verify it, and I sat by the phone waiting for his call. But he didn’t, telling me on the morning of the trip that he trusted me since I was such a good student. That shamed me a little, but I knew it couldn’t be helped.
When we arrived at the terminal, I kissed Aunt Jo goodbye and told her not to worry. Everyone was already there, I saw, getting out of the bus just ahead of us. I quickly unloaded my bags and went over to join the others. Ben stood somewhat at a distance.
“There you are!” Annie began.
“I’m not late, am I?” I asked.
“No, but I worried with the Saratoga and all.”
W
e laughed. For a brief moment, it felt like old times.
After Mr. Dean counted us off, we entered the airport, checking in and then heading through security to wait for the next two hours before boarding the plane.
Zack and Ben went off to find food, while Annie and I sat down.
“So this is kind of weird, you know, with Ben,” she said.
“Not really. I think things are okay now,” I answered, more assured than I felt. They were as okay as they would ever be, I thought.
“Yeah, it seems better. At least he’s not with Angela,” she said, rolling her eyes. I was grateful that Angela had decided not to go on the trip, choosing instead to cruise the Caribbean during break. I thought that she probably wanted to avoid Ben and me, though I still felt guilty about causing their break-up.
“I was sorry to hear about that,” I said.
“Are you serious?” Annie asked me, incredulous.
“Of course. I want Ben to be happy.”
But did I really want to see him with someone else? Ben seemed content enough without her, but I knew that he was still hoping for a reconciliation with me.
Ben and Zack had come back, pizza and coke bottles in hand.
“I got you a slice,” Ben said, handing me a slice. “Pepperoni, mushrooms, and extra cheese, right?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said. This would be so much easier if he wasn’t so nice, but I had to admit, it felt good to have Ben take care of me as he always had.
Zack and Annie looked at each other knowingly, and I knew they thought we’d get back together during the trip.
We ate our pizza in silence, all of us, I knew, with our own thoughts. Zack was texting; Annie was reading a magazine; Ben was concentrating on one of the guidebooks he’d bought before the trip. I was too excited and nervous to think of anything but the task that lay ahead of me.
“Now boarding…” the announcer called over the loud speaker, interrupting my thoughts.
I stood up, and Ben automatically grabbed my carry-on bag.
