by Sia Wales
I turn off the engine, jump out, and go to unload his luggage. “You don’t have to carry them, you’re the party girl tonight,” Jeff says.
I’ve always been a bit slow, but I think I can manage carrying a couple of suitcases.
“I’ll survive, don’t worry.” I struggle with the suitcases under my arms and Jeff, carrying my presents, slams the car door behind me.
The roots of the trees, covered in damp grass, weave over the ground in the woods next to the house. I get wet under the gentle rain as I look for the house keys through the mess at the bottom of my purse. We manage to get everything inside and upstairs in a single trip. His window faces west, overlooking the small garden and the woods.
Jeff’s room holds no secrets for me, even if I never come in here. In the 23 years since my mother left, nothing has changed. I’ve lived here from the time I was born. The walls are still the color of speckled green and like light filtering through leaves, the furniture is white. The wooden floorboards creak throughout the house. I remember missing their familiar sound when I moved away. The windows are still shaded by the same linen curtains that my mother dyed, using tea.
This is all part of my childhood, and just one look around is enough to understand that Jeff never really got over his life with Monica and me. The only thing he has done over the years is switch out the cradle that was in the corner of the room for a rocking chair I used when I was a kid.
The view from the window is fantastic, even at night. Everything seems green and peaceful, maybe too peaceful. How weird––the nearby forest doesn’t seem menacing as it did when I was a child. The lush greenery never fails to take my breath away.
I go back to my room, and with great surprise I see a huge red bow attached to a new stereo. I tear it off. The black line trails along the floor to the wall socket. The card reads, “In case you can’t get to the stereo in the kitchen.”
It’s from Vuk. I shake my head, incredulous. I pull out his CD and place it in the player. I press play and wait silently. The music rises,––the first song is the one he wrote for me, the one he played this evening.
The gifts I received from my friends at The Pats are lying where Jeff left them, with a wooden slingshot on top. I guess it’s a present from Tyler and he didn’t get around to giving it to me in person. I’m surprised. He didn’t mention anything. But from what little I can remember about him, he was always a little reserved.
The card attached to the slingshot says that it’s from my old camping pal, Myco, and that it’s not meant to be a threat.
I smile. It’s the same slingshot he used to chase me through the mud when we’d go camping in the nearby woods during those carefree summers of my childhood. Jeff and Scott loved playing boy scouts, camping by the river, and catching fish for dinner with their fishing poles.
I burst into laughter and look through the other gifts, most of them New England Patriots stuff like pens, caps, cups, key rings, toys, and rubber hands. At the bottom of the pile is the best gift––a blanket depicting an icy Siberian landscape. It’s from Scott and Tyler. The card reads, “So that you can sleep tight and always be protected from ‘icy eyes’. This wards off nightmares and evil spirits.”
I burst out laughing so loud that Jeff begins laughing too, and he wishes me a goodnight from the other room. I immediately replace the blanket my mother gave me on with the new one and lay it out on my bed.
The song plays sublimely in the background. I sigh happily, lost in the memory of Vuk performing it live on stage. I really hoped I’d see Jason tonight, and it’s the only thought that keeps me centered before I head off to bed.
The song ends, leaving me breathless. I listen for a few minutes of the second track and then I turn off the stereo, climb under the bedcovers, and close my eyes, waiting for the pain to return.
And, as usual, my sleep is restless, haunted by nightmares. Or rather by the same nightmare that has been tormenting me these past few months. However hard I try, I can’t find Jason. And the few times I manage to catch a glimpse of him, he disappears into the shadows before I can reach him.
From the depths of my slumber, I hear a muffled sound, which gets my attention. My eyes search the darkness in my room. I see a flashing light coming from inside my purse. The glare makes me see stars, and I rummage around in my purse to find my phone. I try to focus my blinking eyes at the display and see a name––Jason. I stifle a gasp. It’s just the glimpse of hope I needed.
The light flashes like a firefly, and I’m about to answer when a gust of wind distracts me. The phone stops ringing.
The window is wide open and the lace of the white curtain is tangled in the thin branches of the tree that holds on to the lace-like fingers and scratches the wooden windowsill.
On the windowsill lies the most precious gift, a token of love that only he could have left––a blue flower, the same color as his sapphire eyes. A forget-me-not. It’s an anniversary gift from Jason.
I pull out a wrinkled piece of paper from under the flower. It is dirty and damp, crumpled from the thousands of times that it has been opened and closed. I flatten it out and examine it under the bedside lamp just to be sure.
The neat handwriting is very familiar. I recognize if from my first years at university, when I would see it covering the paper on the desk next to mine. The card wishes me a good night, with no more nightmares. He must have seen me writhing in my bed. Nothing could be as moving as seeing his handwriting after not having seen him for so long.
I turn the card over and see that the note is written on the back of a photo of the two of us, taken in front of the university. We are smiling, leaning on the Corvette in an embrace. The same Corvette that has made its way back to Jeff.
As usual, I close my eyes, terrified by the thought of what lies ahead of me. Nothing. Just the endless labyrinth of the school I have been dreaming about for months. Nothing and nobody. I am surrounded by a sinister silence, so deep it deafens me.
In the half-light, I anxiously wander through the building, my chase becoming increasingly frantic, until I stop suddenly, disillusioned and crushed, realizing that there has never been anything to find. Nothing. And there never would be anything there.
The entire night is plagued by nightmares. They’re terrifying every time, and they end only when I wake up screaming. Jeff comes into my room to see what’s happening, scared that someone is trying to kill me.
By dawn, he stops coming to my room. He must be used to it, or so exhausted from the sleepless night. Maybe he has simply stuck a pillow over his ears.
I try to forget about things, to get outside myself, but I can’t.
Whatever happened last night, the party, Jeff, Vuk, Tyler or Donn, the music or the phone call from Monica––it has woken me up. The fog seems to be lifting from my tired eyes.
At breakfast, Jeff keeps a close eye on me as I eat and acts as if nothing happened. It will take weeks before he will get over the fear of seeing me turn into a zombie again and, in the meantime, I will have to act as if nothing has happened.
“Did you have nightmares again last night?”
“Did Scott tell you about them?” I stare down at my belly. Jeff sits down next to me.
“That’s not the point,” he says, looking at me sidelong, without focusing on my face.
“I’m trying to get them to stop.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem to be working!” he exclaims impatiently.
“Can I just ask…what is it that you dream?”
“There are no monsters jumping out at me, or rapists, freaks or ghosts screaming. It’s nothing. Nothing.”
“Are they chronic nightmares, hallucinations, or what?”
“Nothing like that,” I assure him.
“I’ll have to send you to a shrink or worse, to your mother, if you don’t get it together!”
“You want me to see a shrink?” My tone of voice is cutting when I realize where this is leading.
“Maybe … you should speak to a
specialist or at least to your mother.”
“I’m fine.”
He looks at me then lowers his gaze.
“Has it gotten any better since Jason left or since the accident? We both know it hasn’t!” He waits for a reaction that doesn’t come.
“Well, Ella May? How did you enjoy the party?” He’s obviously trying to change the subject. I understand that he is forcing his presence on me, whether I like it or not.
“Scott went a bit over the top. Lanterns, decorations, the cake, flowers. The works.”
“Yep, he sure does like an anniversary.” Jeff smiles. He pushes his chair back, places his plate in the sink, and then leans against the door.
“What presents did you get?”
“Patriots memorabilia, a CD, a stereo, a blanket, and a slingshot from Tyler.”
“Not bad,” he laughs. “You can tell that you guys haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“And a few other things.”
“Great.”
There is silence for a few moments.
“Right. I’d better get going,” I get up and quickly wash the two plates in the sink. I’ve always been good at avoiding uncomfortable conversations.
“Do you need a ride someplace?”
“No thanks,” Jeff replies. “Scott’s coming to pick me up, we’re going to the golf course.” His nerves are no longer on edge. That’s the reply I was expecting; it took years to anticipate his reactions.
Now that he’s come home, he probably feels less guilty about leaving me to run the bar with Scott in Medford over the past few months.
“See you tonight, then.” Jeff waves.
“Ok, see you later!” I call out with a forced smile.
I hear the front door close and breathe a sigh of relief. Jeff knows that all I really want is to be left alone. But he’s come back, and he won’t let up without a fight. Just like everyone else who works at the bar, Jeff knows everything, or almost. He knows why I’m here, as pale as a ghost, and at some kind of crossroads between being a zombie and a human. Jason left, and I had an accident with Vuk. Only Jamie knows the details about the accident, but not everything. And Scott mentioned the fight. I don’t want them to think badly of Vuk. He was punished enough by my not speaking to him for a while and, to be fair, it was all caused by my drama tendencies. And I have never even been to a play.
I don’t want to get to school early, but I can’t stay in the house any longer. I head out under the pouring rain, huddled under my jacket, and head for the Pontiac. I don’t even get to admire my new car, I just want to get in and avoid getting soaked. The dampness in my hair and the sound of my rain boots splashing in the puddles is annoying.
Not even the hot air now blowing into the car warms me up. The tension makes me stiff. It’s the first day back to school, and I know it’s going to be miserable. I turn up the heat, but my shivering doesn’t stop.
It’s not hard to remember the way to school, I know it by heart. It’s not far off the highway. When I get there, I drive past the bulletin board to check my schedule then head for the parking lot, the first car there. I promise myself that I will sign up for finals tomorrow. The campus is a collection of buildings all built in dark red brick. If I didn’t know better, I’d never have guessed it was a college campus.
When I’m home, my father does nothing but keep a watchful eye on me, but at class the opposite is true. Everyone here keeps away.
I was in a bad condition when I went back to school in the fall, after the accident on the night of the full moon, and nobody wanted to sit next to me. As time went on, I limited myself to leaving the house only to go to work. Even Jamie, who usually never missed a chance for a chat, began to keep her distance, as she felt invisible to me.
I remember my first day as a student in Boston, how I wished to fade into the background of the dark red brick walls, but felt like a fish out of water. And now that wish has come true, four years too late. It’s as if I don’t exist. Even the lecturer’s eyes slide over my desk, as if it were empty.
I listen to the voices around me, trying to catch up on the latest gossip, but the conversations are so fragmented that I give up. Jamie looks annoyed. She doesn’t even turn to look at me when I slip into the seat next to hers for the English literature lecture.
Professor Columbus’ class ends a few minutes late, and it takes me longer than usual to gather up my things. When I enter the cafeteria, I see my usual table is occupied by Jamie and Seth Riley, the redheaded sophomore who lives with his father Ronald behind Scott’s house. Next to him is Eliot Keats, Jamie’s younger brother, who I barely recognize. He’s changed his hair––it’s slick, black, and shiny. Seth’s hair is different too, it’s longer now. But his shyness hasn’t changed along with his look. Amber, a blonde sophomore new to Seth’s department, is also sitting with them.
I wonder how long they’ve been there. I can’t remember if it is since the first day or if they’ve started sitting there recently. I feel uncomfortable. It’s as if I have been locked in a stagnant compartment for the start of the first semester. Nobody looks at me when I take a seat next to Jamie, despite the chair scraping noisily against the floor when I pull it out. I try to join in the conversation. Seth and Eliot are talking sports, so I avoid it immediately. It’s the main topic of conversation at the bar and it bores me.
“Where’s Tess?” Jamie asks Amber. I wonder if Seth and Tess are still a couple.
“Tess has some forms to hand in,” replies Amber. “She’ll be here any minute.”
I look at the entrance of the cafeteria, hoping that when she arrives, Tess will be more empathetic. Am I so invisible that nobody would have a problem talking about me right in front of me? But as soon as I’ve finished asking myself that very question, Seth turns to me.
“So, how was your weekend, Stella?” His tone is unconcerned. Everyone already knows about the party, thanks to Ronald.
Now I’m getting more attention than I wanted. Everyone is looking at me, expecting a reply, except for Jamie.
Eliot raises his eyes and gives me an encouraging smile.
“I worked at Jeff’s bar on Saturday and spent all day Sunday at home, studying. But in the evening, Scott threw a surprise party for me.”
“You’re Stella Whitely, aren’t you?” Amber asks, with a furtive glance at Jamie and Seth.
“Ella May” I correct her without thinking. Jeff’s return and the reappearance of Tyler seem to have conditioned my reflexes.
This time everyone, even Jamie, turns to look at me. I sigh. It really is like starting new.
“I’m Amber,” says the blonde girl enthusiastically.
Where’s your next class?” I ask.
“Um…” She checks her schedule in her bag. “Public Relations, with Owens, in the main building.”
“I’m going to 640. If you like I can show you the way.”
“Thanks,” Amber smiles.
I have made an ally. Amber showers me with questions throughout what’s left of the lunch break. Little by little, the others begin to strike up conversations too, but they keep an eye on me. Maybe they’re wondering why I have this sudden, desperate need to be around people. I have to get back into the swing of things quickly to keep up appearances with Jeff, which means I will be able to stay in Medford.
Tess and Josh, a junior who takes classes with Eliot, appear at our table, and Tess cries out with joy.
“Hallelujah! Stella is back!”
When she sits down next to Amber, Tess chats with Seth and me. As soon as I get up to put my tray away, she follows me, along with Amber and Ronald’s son. Jamie, Josh, and Eliot also get up and Tess whispers in my ear. “Good to have you back, Stella.”
I smile, incredulously.
“Really?”
“I’m glad you’re back. And I’ll prove it. I know you’re busy today, but things are quiet on Fridays.” She knows that there are hardly any classes held on Fridays. “I could come over to your place, bring my not
es. I guess you’ve fallen behind a bit.”
“Not a bad idea,” I grin.
“Right, get ready for overload. This should take about six hours,” she winks, nodding down at the mountain of notes in her bag.
Who knows how many classes I’ve missed by staying stuck in my head?
“Maybe we should take a break for lunch, though,” I suggest.
“Deal!”
She picks up a can of soda from the tray and offers it to me. Then she picks up one that is already open and raises it into the air. She makes a toast to my return. This makes us feel grown-up and responsible. I smile and clink my can to hers.
When lunch break ends, we pull on our jackets and head out into the pouring rain. I go with Amber to the main building and the rest of the day at school drags out uneventfully. I have my usual mood swings, my highs and lows. I get to class late. Tess and Seth seem willing to take me back into the fold and forget about the time when my behavior bordered on the absurd. Jamie is still resistant, even after the next class. Maybe she needs an official letter of apology.
After two lectures, I start to recognize all the old faces, with a few new ones peppered here and there. A few people act friendly and say ‘hi,’ asking me if things are going better. I try to be diplomatic, but I lie through my teeth. At least I don’t need Tess and Seth, anchored to my side, to bail me out.
I could swear that the people sitting behind us, including Jamie, are straining their ears to hear all about the past week and yesterday’s party. I hope I’m not being paranoid. Eyes move from Tess to me and back. Seth seems irritated.
Before the start of the last class, Tess calls me over to sit next to her. Jamie seems to have dealt with the situation well and even seems happy about being at the center of attention. She and her friends join us. Trying to pay attention to their chatter, but feeling out of place, my heart beats loudly, as I wait for the moment I’ll see Vuk again.
