by Sarah Noffke
“Mum,” I said, slowly making my way to her bed. “I’m here now.”
“Renny,” she said in a frayed whisper. Her green eyes sparkled with a life I needed her to keep. But she wasn’t going to. I saw that as soon as I neared. Her eyelids drifted closed and didn’t part for several long seconds.
My pulse raced. Mum had always been strong. Working all day, never taking a break. She tirelessly looked after everyone in the family. And she put up with Lyza’s abuse, shouldering it like a seasoned soldier. But on her deathbed she looked tired and conquered by her years of service. And it made me utterly enraged. People like her didn’t deserve to wither away to a bloody disease. They deserved to grow older than an ancient oak tree and pass in their sleep on a fine summer night, not having felt a single pain in their body.
“Are you comfortable?” I said, looking around at her bed and the many bottles of pills on the nearby table.
She didn’t look the least bit comfortable when she spoke, but her words contradicted my observation. “I’m fine, Renny. Especially now that you’re here.”
“I am here and for as long as you need,” I said and just then I felt something strange in my throat. It was followed by the strangest prickling sensation behind my eyes. I blinked it away. “Is there something I can do for you?” I asked, when I felt my voice was steady enough. It was a daft question but I didn’t know what else to say. An apology for being such an arse would have been a good start but that hadn’t occurred to me.
“Well, I wanted you here, so that’s the best thing you can do for me. Seeing my son’s face feels so good. It’s been too long, Renny. You’ve changed. But you are in your early twenties now, not a boy anymore,” she said, and the whole series of sentences took too long for her to say. Each word followed by a strained breath. But still I stayed listening, focused on her. “You look well, son.”
“Thank you, Mum,” I said and bowed my head. I wanted to punch another wall. I wanted to inflict pain on myself for having deserted my mum and pops for all these months. I didn’t know she was sick and that was not even a good excuse. It was just the truth. I would have known if I’d picked up the bloody phone when it rang, but my ego prevented it.
“And there is something else you can do for me,” Mum said, her voice scratchy like she was talking with sandpaper in her throat.
“Yes, whatever it is, I’ll do it,” I said, kneeling down beside her bed. A bitter smell hit my nose and I fought the urge to pull away from my mum’s bed. It was the smell of death. It was the smell of a person who sweated in a bed all day, waiting to die. I knew my father cared for her in those final days. Washed and cleaned her, but nothing could ever clean away the smell of death. It was in her, waiting to rot her bones.
“Renny, will you please get Lyza? Ask her to come and see me. I want to see her before it’s too late. She won’t answer your dad’s calls, but maybe she’ll talk to you,” Mum said and heat flared in my head. I’d been the ungrateful child who didn’t return my pops’ calls for months. And then there was also Lyza. My parents didn’t deserve such horrid children. They deserved children who came to call on them on Sundays and enjoyed an evening meal and gave them grandchildren. Instead they got us and we were heathens undeserving of their love and unwavering affection.
I bit down hard on my lip. “Yes, of course, Mum. I’ll bring her here straight away.”
“But Renny,” my mum said, laying her withered hand on mine. I instantly knew that she didn’t want me to make Lyza come here using mind control. She only wanted to see her of her own accord. My mum gave me these thoughts with such a raw determination behind them. It was beautiful the way she communicated to me using my gift. She was the only person I ever allowed to do it.
“You understand, my son?”
I nodded. “Yes, completely.”
I left her to lie like a prisoner in her bed and called Lyza right away.
My mum said I couldn’t use mind control to make Lyza visit her, but she hadn’t said that I couldn’t use it to get the witch on the phone. “You have to come home. Mum wants to see you,” I said to Lyza when she picked up after only one ring.
There was silence following my sentences. “Ren, this is why you called me?” my sister said, sounding annoyed. “To tell me our reject of a mother wants to see me? Did she put you up to this?”
“Lyza, she’s dying. She doesn’t have much longer,” I said.
A long silence followed.
Finally Lyza said, “Ren, she’s a Middling. Of course she’s dying. Middlings are weak. Die young. And now you expect me to drop everything I’m doing to see some lowlife who I’ve never really liked.”
“She’s your mum,” I said, straining to keep my anger in check. The seams were close to bursting. “You wouldn’t exist without her.”
“If it wasn’t for her then I wouldn’t be half Middling. Imagine how much more powerful I’d be if Father had mated with a Dream Traveler,” Lyza said.
“I’m more powerful than any Dream Traveler I’ve ever known, so your reasoning is faulty,” I said.
“You need to get out more because I’ve met a Dream Traveler who puts you to shame,” my sister said in her snotty tone.
“Let’s set a date so I can meet this fucking pansy. But first, you’re going to come home,” I said, my anger seeping through the cracks.
“No, Ren, I’m not. Let the old bag die. I don’t give a damn,” she said and then the line went dead.
After I put another hole in the wall I went back to my mum’s room and stood in the doorway. I wanted to tell her that Lyza said she wouldn’t be coming, but I couldn’t. I gave a false smile. “Lyza is on her way,” I said, and that was the first and only lie I ever told my mum. “She’s taking the next train.”
She raised her mouth, but it didn’t quite form a smile. “I knew she’d come around. You always had a way with people, even when you weren’t controlling them,” she said. “I always wanted you to see that on your own. You’re more powerful without your powers, dear Renny.”
My mum shouldn’t have been laid out in that bed. She should have been up and doing the normal chores that made her hum and smile for no obvious reason. She should have been up. But for a fault that belonged to God she was confined to a bed. Her body had given up on her. Given up on her prematurely because of the race that she was randomly assigned to. It was all wrong and with every moment it was making me too irate.
“Renny,” Mum called out, too much strain in her voice.
“Yes, Mum.”
“Lyza probably won’t make it here fast enough,” she said plainly. “But I’m grateful that she’s made the effort.”
I nodded, although I wanted to throw my head into the doorframe.
“Please pass along a message for me, would you?” Mum asked.
I regarded her for a long moment that seemed to etch my soul with black. “Yes, of course. What is it?”
“Tell her that I know I was never who she wanted me to be, but I loved her for everything that she was. Tell her she’s exceptional, and capable of incredible things. Tell her that I will always watch over her,” my mum said, with a fondness that my sister didn’t deserve.
I swallowed. “Of course, Mum,” I said, nodding my head. “I’ll tell her verbatim.” Those words would never come out of my mouth and Lyza absolutely would never hear them. She’d hear the opposite. She’d hear what her blackened soul deserved to hear. But she wouldn’t be granted love that she’d throw away. She didn’t deserve our mother’s love. Not when she was hatched and not now.
“And also, I need you to know something,” Mum said, her voice so tired and slow. “It’s nothing much but I want to pass it along to you.”
I clung to the doorframe like it was a bloody pacifier. “Yes?”
“Second chances don’t ever, ever come along. You go and seize them,” she said.
“Why are you telling me that, Mum?” I said. “That’s such a strange thing to say out of the blue.”
“Be
cause you, Renny, I know with all the faith bestowed upon my heart, will need so many second chances in life. It’s hurt at times to think of the road God gave you when he made you so powerful. It’s not your fault,” she said, shaking her head against her pillow. “And still the burden is absolutely yours. I’m sorry, my dear son. If I could have one wish in all these seventy years then it would be to take away my son’s powers so he could be happy. And yet I know that wish will never come to pass. Your battle is to find happiness after being who you are, a greater being than most. I’m sorry, son. I know it hasn’t been easy to find happiness with a mind that can do what yours can.”
I looked down at her, wanting to open my heart to her and also knowing it was impossible to do it. There would be no tears. There would be no counseling. I wasn’t deserving of those things. “You must be tired,” I said. “I’ll let you rest.” I turned and headed for the main room.
“What I didn’t say,” she said in an almost whisper. I turned and regarded her with a half glance. “Is that even though I can’t guarantee my son’s happiness, I want him to know he’s given it to me. I can’t tell you how many times you’ve given my life meaning because the occasions have been too numerous. As a baby you smiled and that was enough. But then you became a child and your acts of selflessness were incredibly inspiring. And you came into your gifts and I felt like a goddess to have been your mother. You, Reynold Lewis, have been a true joy to raise. Most won’t understand you. Most will be afraid of you. But the ones who embrace you will understand what I saw on the day I stared at you after thirty-six hours of being in labor. You, Renny, are more than exceptional. You are unique. There will never be another Ren Lewis. And that’s why God gave you such impossible talents. Because you were meant to do things humans shouldn’t. I’m sorry, son. That is your talent and your curse.”
I walked forward until I was at her bedside. Then I kneeled over and pressed my lips against her forehead. “I love you, Mum,” I said in a hoarse whisper.
“I love you always, Renny,” she said, pressing her eyes closed.
I turned at once and left, closing the door to her room. In the morning she was dead and I didn’t say a word for that whole day.
Chapter Fifteen
Dahlia was by my side at my mum’s funeral. It was the first time a celebrity was in Peavey. Probably the last. After that she offered to halt her tour but I refused to allow her. I told her what I really needed was space and time to process. I sent her back to London and stayed in Peavey for a few weeks to help Pops sort through Mum’s stuff. He didn’t want to do it at first but I knew that having her possessions staring him in the face every bloody morning wasn’t going to help him mourn. He was seventy and would live another thirty or forty years easily. It’s another reason why Dream Travelers rarely pick a Middling as a partner. We are guaranteed to outlive them by a few decades at the very least. And now my father had a lifetime to live without the love of his life.
During my time in Peavey I considered my relationship with Dahlia. It was the best part of my life. The only portion of my life that wasn’t somehow marked with greed, deceit, or disappointment. And being with her was easy, even from the beginning. We’d been together for over a year and I firmly believed that to wrap my life around hers and enjoy many years together was a very real possibility. Each year that I committed myself to Dahlia would lace a noose more decisively around my spirit. And when she died before me, as I knew she would, then I’d be gone too. But I’d also still be forced to walk this earth. Without her.
I’d been in London for only a week after my stay in Peavey when I made plans to meet Dahlia. I told her I needed to have an extended holiday with her. I told her that it would help me heal after my mum’s death. She canceled a month of tour dates and agreed to meet me at a resort in the Swiss Alps. It would have been a simple trip for me. I’d only have to dream travel there and generate my body using a local GAD-C. There would be a short car trip, but that’s all. Dahlia took a twelve-hour flight from Los Angeles to Switzerland, and then she drove a few hours after that. It wasn’t a short trip, but she thought it would be worth it because we’d be together for three long weeks.
I’m not sure how long she waited at the resort before she realized something was wrong. The calls came in a day later. She sent people to my flat, as I suspected she’d do. I ignored it all. I never had any intention of joining Dahlia for an extended holiday. I’d stood her up. And I knew she’d hate me after this. That was exactly the point. If you tell people to leave you alone then they become more obsessed with you. You’re the forbidden fruit. However, if you’re wicked and cruel, then they stay as far away as possible. I’m a master of relationships. It just happens that I know how to both make people love and hate me, and I prefer for most people to do the latter.
Two days after our scheduled rendezvous in the Swiss Alps Dahlia knocked at my door. “Open up, Ren,” she yelled through the door. “I know you’re in there.”
The very last person she’d sent to my flat I’d told off. I told them to quit following Dahlia’s orders and leave me alone before I called the authorities. Word would have gotten back to her that I was home and ignoring all her attempts to find me.
I unlocked the door and then strode for my armchair. By the time I sat down and crossed my legs Dahlia had entered and marched through the flat, and stood only six feet from me. She pinned her hands on her hips and considered me with a terrible look. Her hair and dress were perfect as always, but she’d obviously had a rough couple of days judging by the circles under her eyes.
“Ren, what is going on? Are you all right?” She sounded half angry and half concerned.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I said with a bored sigh. “And I think it’s obvious what’s going on.”
“Not to me. You stood me up in Switzerland. You don’t take my calls. You send my guards away with a series of insults. I get that you’ve had a rough month, but why all this?” she said.
I picked up the glass of Chianti on the side table and took a long few swallows. The stuff tasted repulsive. No one actually likes wine. They just like being snotty about what they choose to get drunk on. “I changed my mind,” I finally said.
“About going to Switzerland?” Dahlia said, eyeing the glass of wine with a strange expression.
“No, I changed my mind about us,” I said and drained the rest of the wine.
“What are you doing?” she said, narrowing her eyes at me. “You don’t drink.”
“I’ve decided to start. It’s a nasty habit, don’t you think?” I grabbed the bottle on the table and filled the glass almost to the brim. “Don’t I look like a pisshead to you? You can tell me if you think I look repulsive. I can take it.”
She knelt down by my knee, daring to put her hand on it, a compassionate look on her face. “No, you look like someone who has been through a big ordeal and now you’re acting out. You don’t have to. I want to be here for you.”
“Look, I’m not a toddler throwing a bloody tantrum,” I said, and threw her hand off my leg. “I’m a man who is giving you a very direct message.”
She stood, failing to hide the scornful look on her face. “Ren, this isn’t you.”
“Really, Dahlia,” I said, taking a casual sip of wine, my head already starting to float from the effect of the poison. “I’m the one who gets into people’s heads and makes them yell obscenities in public. I’m the one who forces rich men to give me their money. I’m the one who has seduced, through mind control, hundreds of women to shag me. This is me. I’m heartless. Greedy. And not this person you think I am, or otherwise you wouldn’t have come here.”
“So this is how you’re attempting to break up with me?” she said, an actual laugh spilling out of her mouth.
“No, this is me actually breaking up with you. I’m bored, Dahlia. We’ve had a good time, but we’re done now,” I said and almost gagged on my next swallow of wine.
“You can’t do this,” she said each word with a deliberate force.
“What you are too obtuse to understand is I can. I have,” I said, setting the glass on the table.
“Ren, I’ve never been in love in my entire life. And then I met you. I won’t ever feel this way about someone else. Don’t do this.”
“Dahlia, of course you’re in love with me. I’m incredible. And I’m incredible in the fact that I can make anyone love me. Why would I settle for just being with you?”
She gave a frustrated sigh. “Because I’m incredible too and you know it. We’re incredible together. And you don’t have to make me love you, I do of my own free will. And I love you not because you’re powerful, but because you’re gorgeously flawed. You are magnificent in your rebellious nature. Please don’t push me away.”
I looked at Dahlia. Considered her words. Everything about her was glorious, so much so it was too much at times. The angle of her jaw captured my attention in a way that felt wrong. The contours of her cheeks and shoulders. The shiny luster of her dark brown hair. The shade of her blue eyes. It was all too perfect. Like angels were incinerated and their ashes used to make her elegantly flawless form. And her voice. I’m certain it was ripped straight from an angel, leaving their vocal chords tattered and frayed. She was so perfect it was wrong.
“Have I ever said that I loved you?” I said finally.
She blinked in astonishment. “Well, no, but you do. You don’t have to say it for me to know.”
“I’d go and get a check-up on your instincts because they’re defective. I don’t love you.”
“Yes, you do, Ren. Don’t lie to me.”
“No, I don’t, because what you fail to see in your disillusioned head is that I’m incapable of love.” There, I said it. Finally. I’d thought it enough times, but it felt good to finally say it.
“That’s not true. Ren, you loved your mother.”
“Everyone loves their mother,” I said. “Even people with despicable mothers love them. It’s programmed into every mammal’s hardwiring.”
