“I don’t think so,” I told him. “I don’t think you need to be by her grave. I don’t think those who pass hang out there. Why would they? It’s boring. If you want to talk to her, do so someplace that she loved to be. If anything, they’re tied to people, not places. She’s probably with you more than you know.”
Brady smiled. “That would make sense, but can’t she send me a sign?”
“Maybe she did,” I said. “Maybe I’m it?”
Brady laughed. “Yeah, okay. You were just lost in the rain.”
“True,” I said. “I was. Lost while on my way to the mall. And I got out right near where you were. I’m telling you. You’re mom wanted me to find you and bring you here.”
“Yeah right,” Brady said. “You’re just screwing with me.”
“No,” I said and took his hand again. “I’m really not. And I think it’s perfect because you can help me.”
“Really?” he said. “With what?”
“Her,” I said. I pointed to Jen Murphy. I quickly explained what I knew, leaving out the details about how I knew it.
“I know her,” Brady said. “She sits behind me in math. She’s kinda quiet but funny once she talks.”
“She’s about to get humiliated,” I said. “I think you should go talk to her.”
“Me?” Brady said. “Why me?”
I smiled. “I think it’s what your mom would have wanted.”
Brady looked over at Jen. He shrugged and got up and walked over.
I’m not sure what Brady said to her. They talked for a little bit in a friendly manner. At some point she looked at her phone in disbelief, but she didn’t walk away. When the text came, I could see how upset she was. Brady took her phone and put it in her bag.
A few minutes later, Brady said something that made her laugh.
I decided they would be fine without me. I’d already seen it.
So I got up and discreetly left.
* * * *
“What did you see?” Mary asked anxiously. “In your vision, what was it you saw?”
“I saw them in about ten years,” I said. “They’ll be friends for a few weeks. Then they’ll be on her porch and he’ll be trying to get the nerve up to kiss her. He’ll move in, move away. Until she decides to kiss him instead. That’s a story that they’ll share with friends and family when they get married.”
“Married?” Mary said. “Oh that’s wonderful.”
“Yeah, it is,” I said. “Brady and Jen found each other that day. And he learned to forgive himself. He won’t go back to that grave so often. Not that he’ll forget you. He’ll never forget you. But he was able to move on with his life.”
Mary cried. “Thank you.”
She got up and walked over. She was wearing the same pretty flowered dress she had on the day I saw her on the bus.
“I suppose that this will probably be the last time I see you to?”
She nodded. “I think it’s time. I feel bad. I wanted to help you.”
“You did,” I said. “Really, being able to talk about things felt good. It’s made me realize something. I didn’t tell you this part, but on my birthday, I went into my parents’ bedroom. I don’t go in the often. I got a flash. They’re getting divorced. I saw them talking it over like it was business transaction. My name never came up.”
Mary’s eyes were filled with sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”
I simply shrugged.
“Bristol,” she said. “I keep feeling like there’s more. Something you’re not telling me. Like why you don’t date. You’re a very pretty seventeen-year-old girl.”
I shrug again, but she won’t let it go this time.
“I’ve always felt like dating someone would be like cheating.”
Mary frowned. “On who?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know his name. We’ve never met. I’ve seen him in my visions since I was little. I think we’ll be meeting soon.”
“And then?”
I sighed, not wanting to think of the possibilities. There were only two possible outcomes, both of which terrified me.
“Then we’ll see,” I said.
Mary nodded. “Can I make a suggestion?” I nodded, so she continued. “You should keep a journal. Maybe on a computer with a password. If you can’t talk to anyone else, you can at least have that way of expressing yourself.”
“A journal?” I said. “Really?”
“Why not,” Mary replied. “Or I could try and not move on.”
“You need to,” I told her. “Not that I’m not going to miss you.”
Mary smiled. “Wait,” she said. “I can’t leave yet. You have to tell me about Jerry. Is he still hanging around, singing that same song?”
I laughed and shook my head.
“No,” I said. “I dealt with Jerry.”
* * * *
“Come here, Jerry,” I said.
Jerry, who was standing on my dining room table like it was a stage, hoped down. “I think I almost got it,” he said.
The fact was, each attempt was further away from the correct version. And it was getting painful. His lyrics were now involving farm animals and the melody sounded like a cross between polka music and heavy metal.
I held out a chair for him so he could sit at the dining room table. Then I placed two sheets of paper in front of him. As his eyes scanned the pages, I hit play on my iPod.
The opening percussion filled the room and Jerry looked at me with surprise. He recognized the tune immediately.
“All right,” I said. “Together now.” I pointed to the lyrics on the first page.
Jerry and I cleared out throats. And together we sang, “Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl.”
After two run throughs, Jerry no longer needed to look at the lyrics. The two of us bounced around, singing the same song for an hour.
Finally, he was done.
“Thanks, Bristol,” He said. “I just couldn’t move on until I did that.”
With that, he was gone.
I went to bed, on a Friday night, on my birthday, at a quarter to ten. It took me twenty minutes to conk out, however. I just couldn’t get that song out of my head.
* * * *
I said goodbye to Mary and made my way home. She was one of the ghosts who I was going to remember in a fond way. When I got home, I found a note from my mom again.
Bristol,
Next Saturday, meet your father and I at that trattoria you like for lunch. Get a table outside.
Mom
Taking the note from the fridge, I knew they were planning on telling me of their plans for divorce. I didn’t know if I should fight them or not. Clearly, they didn’t love each other anymore. I wasn’t even sure they loved me.
I went to bed, hoping I would dream something that would help.
* * * *
That night I work in a sweat. I could still feel his hands on me. I think I actually called out, for the dream had been so vivid. It’s getting closer.
Of course, nobody came in to see in I was all right. I might be alone in the apartment, but I might not be. Either way, nobody came.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep yet, so I decided to try something. I grabbed my laptop and turned it on.
Journal of Bristol Blackburn
Entry one.
It was him again. The boy I’ve been dreaming of since I was six years old. I’ve been having a lot of dreams with him lately. Almost like a greatest hits. Him kissing me. His hands touching me. Us sitting under a pretty weeping willow tree and talking for hours. He’ll be my first. I’ve never even kissed a guy because I felt like it was cheating on this guy who I’ve never met and yet I know every inch of his body. Intimately.
So lasts night’s dream wasn’t anything new. I’ve had it before. It was, in fact, the first dream I’d ever had of him. That angel’s face with the devil’s grin. Normally he looks at me like I’m his entire world, but in this one, his eyes are filled with malice and rage. His hands are wr
apped around my throat as he slowly kills me.
So yeah, I think it’ll happen any day now. I’m finally going to meet the literal boy of my dreams. Then I’ll find out if he’ll be the love of my life, or the end of it.
And really, I have no idea which possibility scares the crap out of me more.
Vision of Secrets Page 3
