As I walked home, that familiar warmth swelled through me. The sensations were rather enjoyable. It occurred to me—I was actually looking forward to something, and…happy. For the first time in over a year, I opened my front door wearing a smile on my face.
~5~
Exposed
When walking over to meet Barry, I had to laugh. The thought of Mom’s reaction when I told her I was coming over here was comical. I’d never seen her that giddy. She was so elated, I thought she’d burst. All through supper she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face, but what got to me were her eyes. They sparkled so brightly, at first, I was glad to be the reason behind their shine. But sadness slowly crept in when I realized going to a friend’s house shouldn’t elicit that type of reaction. It was a stark reminder of how isolated I’d become.
I knew she meant well, but part of me couldn’t wait to get away from her. There was a limit on how much I could take of her constant babble, and since she was in overdrive tonight, I had my fill. Judging from her smug expression, I could tell she thought moving here was the best thing she’d ever done for me. She stopped short of saying it, but it was written all over her face. Who knows? A part of me was beginning to think she might be right after all.
When stepping onto the landing leading to his grandma’s front porch, all thoughts of Mother were erased. Anxiety replaced it, swirling around in the pit of my stomach. Would it be a smart idea to spend an entire evening with someone? Wanting to retreat, I didn’t feel as brave as I did just seconds before stepping onto the concrete. In a desperate attempt to not chicken out I took a deep breath, hoping to relax my nerves. Slowly exhaling, I squeezed my eyes closed as I rang the doorbell.
To my surprise the door swung swiftly open, making me wonder for a second if he had been waiting right by it. “Hey. Come on in.” Barry greeted me with that big smile of his, the one I’d grown to adore. “Grandma’s in the kitchen finishing up the dishes.” He motioned down a narrow hallway, which I presumed led to the kitchen. “Follow me.” He cocked his head, turning to allow me to follow him down the narrow path.
I immediately felt welcomed as we stepped into the living room, and my anxiety disappeared as quickly as it came. The house had a warm, cozy, inviting feeling. As I followed Barry, I quickly scanned the area. The sofa was older, golden in color, with actual doilies covering the armrests. Quite typical, it seemed, for someone her age, having lived in the same house for many years. An old rattan rocking chair was by the couch, with a worn but snuggly looking afghan draped over it. Many pictures of Barry lined the outdated, papered walls.
As we approached the kitchen, the scent of vanilla and chocolate hit me, and my stomach immediately growled. As we rounded the corner I saw the culprit, a plate full of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies sitting on the kitchen table.
“Are you hungry?” Barry asked as he grinned.
Embarrassed that he heard my stomach, I blushed. “No, I just got done eating supper.”
His grin grew wider as he cocked his head toward me, whispering, “Grandma has snacks. She always has snacks.”
Much to my surprise, meeting his grandma was especially nice. She was the perfect stereotypical grandma, like the ones I’d pictured from the fifties. White hair fixed in a bun, heavy set, the constantly making a fuss over you type. She was exactly the kind I’d always dreamt of if my grandmother had still been alive. I wasn’t sure I’d ever met anyone quite like her before. No wonder Barry liked coming here, who wouldn’t? She spoiled you completely.
After refusing our offer to help dry the dishes, she shooed us back into the living room. “Now, you kids just go watch your movie. I’ll pop you some popcorn and bring it out to you shortly,” she said as she practically threw us out of the kitchen.
Grabbing the drinks she handed me, I followed Barry—who had snatched up the plate of cookies—back toward the living room. Once we entered the room, I hesitated for a second. That same tingling in the pit of my stomach returned as I scoped the seating arrangements. My mouth felt dry, like it was going to close off, and I swallowed hard. The drinks in my hand suddenly seemed very appealing, but I was too frozen to take a sip. I knew why I had unexpectedly felt that apprehension. I was concerned as to where I was going to sit. Quickly sizing up the situation, the rocker appeared too uncomfortable, which really left the couch as the most feasible place. That would mean I would have to sit right next to him, which unexpectedly caused a spark to ignite deep down inside me. Placing the plate of cookies down on the coffee table, Barry turned to grab the drinks from me. Unable to look him in the eye, I nervously handed them over.
“Have a seat,” he said, while motioning his arms toward the couch, fortunately making the decision a little easier for me.
I smiled shyly as I sat down. Why am I anxious to be sitting by him? I’d been close to him many times that past week in the car and in the cafeteria during lunch, but here at his grandmother’s house it just seemed more intimate. I was really starting to stress out about it.
My past problems a forgotten memory, all I could seem to focus on was wondering if he returned the same apprehension. But my anxiety confused me because there was an underlying attraction attached to it. Not once in my entire life had I ever worried about a boy, or what they thought about me. That nervousness was so unfamiliar that I couldn’t get used to it. I knew for sure I didn’t like it. Or I did. I was too indecisive.
As he edged his way over toward me, my pulse quickened at the realization he was going to sit down next to me. Right next to me, and I couldn’t believe how much pleasure that simple action sparked. It was stupid to feel that way. He was only sitting by me, for crying out loud. My gaze shifted toward him as he moved to get back up and reached for the afghan.
Smiling warmly at me, he said, “Here, I thought we could share the blanket.”
I really wasn’t cold, but I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity of sharing a blanket with him. The idea of us being that close together caused another flutter in my stomach. Besides, I thought, what could go wrong? As he draped it over us, the blanket descended on top of me, immediately causing me to go rigid. As my body stiffened, my face lost all expression as the image of the boy, the boy that had been haunting my dreams, flashed across my mind…This time he was happy and giggling, all bundled up. “All right Johnny, you can watch the cartoons before your nap.” As quickly as that endearing scene played out, a feeling of anguish hastily replaced any contentment I had as he sat, crying…Not a normal cry that children often do, but one of fear. Great sadness overshadowed me as he called out, “I want my mommy”…Then finally horror…Pure horror engulfed my body as I began to break out in a sweat. Small flashes of the guy…the killer…dark hair, I could barely make out his face when suddenly I saw his eyes…
With a sharp intake of air, I gasped, whispering to myself, “Johnny” as my hands trembled. I sat still for a second, trying to dismiss the image out of my mind, while my breath caught back up to me. As my eyes began to focus on the present, I glanced toward Barry. Much to my horror, I saw him staring wide eyed at me as if I was a…freak. I was mortified that I had a vision right in front of him.
All my chances of having a normal relationship with someone quickly evaporated away as the reality of who I truly am came crashing down around me. As devastated as I was at losing the one shot at a decent relationship, I couldn’t worry about myself right now. I had to think of the little boy. The vision, what made it come? When I glanced down, the afghan had slid off, lying sinisterly on the floor. I scurried away from it as if it were a snake, peering back toward Barry.
“Johnny…the boy’s name was Johnny. Who’s Johnny?” I demanded, not really expecting him to respond. But I was desperate—desperate for answers.
Still staring at me, I was unable to read his expression. His face was contorted, but didn’t appear to be completely disgusted. Instead, there was a sense of confusion, along with a hint of sadness. I remained s
till, contemplating what could be going through his mind. Surprise, of course, but he had such an underlining look of sorrow that I couldn’t quite understand. Swallowing hard, he barely whispered, “Johnny lived next door. In the house you’re living in now.”
It all began to fall into place, the toy—my dreams. More pieces of the puzzle revealed, with edges that are actually starting to snap together. I laughed sarcastically. It was ironic…Mom moved me four hundred miles away to try to dispel my visions only to lead me right in the middle of another one. Why? Of all places to live, why did she have to pick that house? Was there no place safe?
I wanted to scream.
“How did you…? What just happened?”
Wanting my own questions answered first, I ignored his quick interrogation. I glanced downward at the afghan, and then asked the obvious, “Did he used to come over here?”
“My grandma babysat for him,” he said slowly, still observing me suspiciously.
“The afghan…He used to cuddle up in it. How long ago did he die?”
He kept staring at me, clearly not understanding what was going on yet. I realized he deserved answers, too, but I needed to find out a few more details to put my own mind at ease. I sat there anxiously waiting for him to process everything in order to speak again.
After a few minutes, he answered in a gravelly voice, “He went missing ten years ago. I... I guess one would presume he’s dead, but they never found his body.” Sadness quickly filled his eyes, and I wanted to erase the pain I’d resurrected.
“You knew him quite well,” I stated in a more compassionate tone.
“He was my friend. He’s our age you know, or at least would have been. I played with him every time I came over here, which was a lot.”
There wasn’t any sparkle left in Barry’s eyes, and I could tell this was a very difficult topic for him to discuss. The pain that lined his face was too much for me to bear. Seeing him in this depressed state made me want to reach out to him, to hold him, but I didn’t dare. By now, I was sure he was afraid of me, thinking that I was the biggest freak that ever entered his life.
“I see visions,” I blurted out. As soon as the words sprang out of my mouth, I immediately wanted to take them back.
“What?” he asked. I studied him for a second. There was just enough tenderness paired with a hint of curiosity in his eyes that actually made me feel comfortable enough to continue talking.
Though still not confident enough to make direct eye contact with him, I stared down toward the floor, fidgeting with my fingers. “I can see things, visions. If I touch something that belonged to someone, something they treasured, or meant something to them, sometimes I get a vision about them.” I glanced over at the afghan before forcing myself to look at him.
Half afraid of what I might see—like a horrified expression and him whipping out a crucifix—he was still staring at me wide eyed, but the shocked expression of earlier was replaced with general concern. He must have understood what my words meant, to a certain level, because he quickly gathered the blanket and threw it back toward the rocking chair.
“Do you mean you can see and hear them…like a movie playing?”
“Sort of,” I said. Then it occurred to me, I was able to hear something. Before it had solely been things I saw and felt, but this time I actually heard voices…“I saw him wrapped up in the afghan, and then I heard…” Pausing, I glanced toward the kitchen for a second. Returning my eyes toward Barry, I swallowed before continuing. “I heard your grandmother’s voice say his name.” Hearing myself admit that out loud threw me off for a moment. Then my adrenaline took over and I couldn’t help but get excited about my newfound level of discovery. It took all my strength to suppress my emotions for I knew this wasn’t the time to show excitement. “That’s how I knew his name,” I whispered more to myself.
“That’s incredible,” he softly spoke, matching my tone. “So it’s happened before?”
At that very moment, the hint of excitement I felt swiftly drained from my body as I recollected my memories. Staring down again, I sighed heavily before admitting, “Yes, back in my hometown. That’s the real reason my mom moved us here. Let’s just say, nobody there appreciated my gift.”
Slowly, I raised my eyes back to him, not knowing quite what to expect. Staring inquisitively back at me, he opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped. He paused for a second, I presumed to recollect his thoughts before finally asking, “May I ask what happened?”
When explaining the vision I had about April, I half expected him to start running away, or at least ask me to leave. He did neither. Instead, he listened quietly as I explained her murder, what led me to seeing her, and the shocking conclusion of who her murderer turned out to be. It was hard reliving the vision for him, and embarrassing, having to explain people’s reaction toward me afterward.
“So… After I explained the lake setting and the lighthouse to the police, it was enough information to lead them to her whereabouts. Unfortunately, it was too late, she had already been killed.” Letting out a sigh, I smirked. “The one positive spin was the police collected enough evidence to convict him.”
A shiver ran through my body as I recollected his face. I think that was the worst part, those murderous faces haunt me like pictures refusing to fade away.
“Weren’t her parents at least appreciative of you for leading the police to her murderer?”
“You’d think, right?” I deadpanned. “I truly believe over time they will realize, but for now they blame me for not coming forward sooner. They think I could have saved her if I had seen it earlier. But it doesn’t work that way for me. I have to touch something that belonged to the victim. I didn’t even know the full extent of my ability until I had come in contact with her sweater. Had I known, I would have gladly helped out sooner.” My voice cracked at the end, causing me to shut my eyes. I didn’t want to chance Barry seeing them glistening up.
He reached over and squeezed my arm. My eyes sprung open, gaping at him with a mixture of surprise and wonderment. Nobody dared to touch me after finding out what I can do—nobody. People steered clear of me at my old school as if I had the plague.
I think my feelings for Barry grew at a deeper level from just that simple touch. Finally realizing what he had done, he let up on the pressure. Instead of letting go, like I thought he would, he slid his fingers down my arm and grabbed a hold of my hand. I sat there dazed, afraid to move for if I moved he’d realize what I am and never touch me again.
While staring intently he said, “Heather, you did nothing wrong. Every person out there who judged you are the ones who are wrong. What you’re capable of doing is remarkable—a gift to be treasured, not cursed. You just need to channel it toward the good.” I turned away, shaking my head, but he touched my face softly, turning it back toward him. Tingles ran down my neck as warmth began to spread. Still holding my gaze, I couldn’t breathe as I got lost in the depths of green–speckled honey tones. Speaking softly, he added, “You need to believe me. They had no right to judge you that way.”
His assessment brought me out of my stupor, as I answered, “I…I guess you’re right, but I always feel guilty. What if I had seen the vision sooner? They may have rescued her instead of finding her body in that...”
“Maybe, but you don’t know that.” He interrupted me and then countered. “And besides, you simply can’t live that way. Now that you’re aware of your capabilities, if the situation ever arises again, you’ll know what to do. Until then, you have to live in the present. And, if you hadn’t seen the vision, she would still be missing, and a killer would still be roaming the streets. Or worse yet, still be working at the school, searching for his next prey.”
Not once, in all my therapy sessions, did that angle ever occur to me. The surrounding air lightened as his simple words lifted the guilt weighing me down. My conscience may not be clear, but the pressure had diminished at least. Tears w
elled up in my eyes again, but this time I didn’t care if he saw. “Thanks.” I managed to squeak out.
“You’re welcome. Do you think you can help Johnny?” he asked tenderly. Although he still appeared apprehensive, there seemed to be an odd sense of hope in his eyes.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to try. My gut instinct tells me it needs to be done. It will help to know a few more facts.”
“I’ll definitely help if you want. I don’t like the idea of you being alone when the visions occur. They seem scary.”
I sat in disbelief from the amount of sincerity pouring from his face. His unwavering self–control amazed me, but offering to help…? That was beyond shocking. And it wasn’t an act either, he honestly wanted to.
Not knowing quite how to respond, I just nodded. Barry surprised me on so many levels that I was beginning to believe he truly was a great guy.
~6~
Revelations
While standing in my kitchen, the argument with my mother was wearing on me. I turned so I wouldn’t have to face her anymore, hoping that would encourage her to be quiet. My plan backfired; however, as that seemed to heighten her relentless nagging. As I stood motionless, waiting for her rant to be finished, I stared out the back door screen, watching the raindrops fall gently to the ground.
Bit by bit, I began to tune her out as my mind started drifting toward the picturesque view in front of me. The green foliage mixed in with splashes of brown hues was rather refreshing. I found that strange because I’d never cared about forest scenes before. They’re trees, for crying out loud. But for some reason, these particular woods had an allure that made me want to run into them and escape. Maybe find the fallen log I claimed as my personal refuge spot from the other day. As the trees swayed from the light breeze, I sighed at the thought. Of course, anything sounded better than quarreling with my mother.
Visions: The Mystical Encounter Series (The Mystical Encounter Series Book 1) Page 4
