by Jemma Grey
“This wedding is going to happen... knowing my mom, in some months. You’re not happy and neither am I... We’re fighting almost all the time... and I don’t want the rest of my life to be like that... I don’t think you do either... so... here's the deal... How about we be friends?
“You have to stop being mean to me. You... talk to me, tell me what’s really going on in that psychotic head of yours... Until you’re comfortable enough to move on... no matter how long, I will wait until you say... and in return I will give you anything you ask – anything I can give...” he trailed off.
I nodded thinking about that. “I want to go to school, I want to do things I’m used to doing... going to the mall, being with friends...” I trailed off thinking. Eric opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, I raised a finger shushing him. “And I want more time before we’re married.”
“Are you finished? Is that all?” he asked when I didn’t continue. I nodded. “Okay, done.” he said without hesitation. “But I’m not sure about more time. I’ll see what I can do though... So... we’re friends now?” Again, I just nodded.
“Can I ask you something?” The instinct to tell him ‘no’ and run away struck me immediately, but instead I nodded again. “I know you care for me, Jen and I also know that you think – know” he corrected himself, “that we can be happy together... There’s something between us... why are you fighting it?”
Of all the questions he could ask, I wasn’t expecting this one. I sighed and turned away from him not sure if I wanted to answer. “We’re friends now,” he reminded me.
I let another sigh out and looked up to him. “I’d rather be miserable my entire life and be free... than happy and trapped in a marriage I never wanted...”
“But that doesn't make sense...” he trailed off, frowning at me.
“It’s about not giving in or submitting. I don't want - I can't feel powerless... or weak again Eric,” I explained as best as I could. “I can't give in to you...”
He thought about this for a moment and then asked “But would it matter if we were happy?”
“Yes it would... and I won’t be happy. How can I be happy when I’m married to someone I don’t love?”
“In time you could... we both could...”
“No... I can’t... Eric I can’t love you... not now and not ever. I won’t be able to, I’m... broken...” I forced myself to say.
“Daren,” he guessed.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whispered, turning away from him.
“Okay,” he muttered. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Why do I have to be married before I’m eighteen?” I asked turning back to him.
“Jen... I don’t want to lie to you, but I can’t tell you the truth either, not yet anyway. There are things about my family that you don’t know.”
“Like your dad is a really good doctor, or that your family is really rich and influential?”
“No, other things... secrets you’re not ready for yet...”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know,” was all he said.
“Well help me understand,” I pleaded.
“In time you will... So school?” he smiled. I knew he was changing the subject, but the idea of going to school excited me more than I thought possible. He must have seen the animation written across my face because his unsure smile turned into one of amusement instantly.
“What?” I asked blinking.
“You’re the first person I’ve ever met that’s actually excited for school,” he chuckled. “So what sort of work do you want to do?”
“I’m not sure yet...” I trailed off, wondering.
“Hmm,” he mused. “I thought you would do something creative. Art, I guess.”
“How'd you figure that out?”
“You draw a lot and you’re really good too,” he added almost as an afterthought. I frowned at this puzzled by how he knew. Just as I was about to ask he began to explain. “The day we met, you were wearing faded blue jeans and drawn on it was a single red rose. It wasn’t straight, more slanted and up sided down, like it was falling. And on the other leg was a spider – a black widow
– next to that were the words ‘Fatal Beauty.” I was speechless that he remembered what I’d been wearing the day we met. “There are more drawings on your books – at the back mostly.”
My eyes narrowed. “You went through my books?”
“Yes,” he smiled, unashamed. “I wanted to get to know you.”
“Have I ever told you that stalking is not romantic?” I teased a little annoyed, but not enough to ruin the mood.
“Yes, I believe you have told me that.”
“So what do you want to do? Are you going to follow in your dad’s footsteps?”
“Well...” he wondered, “everyone expects that, especially my parents.”
“But what do you want to do?” I pointed out.
“I’ve never thought about it.” His voice and face was casual. We could have been talking about the weather. “Never had a reason to. No one has ever asked me that...”
“Well I’m asking you now?” I said, my eyes never leaving his face.
“Hmm...” he frowned at me “Right now I’m doing a double major in medicine and business... but if I didn’t have do those things I’d love to be a pilot...” Eric trailed off.
“Military?” I asked, somehow already knowing.
“Yep,” he grinned.
“So why don’t you?”
“It’s not that simple... All these things – my entire life – have been mapped out for me before I was even born...” he explained.
“Yeah,” I nodded, “right down to who you’re going to marry.”
“Exactly,” he paused, staring at me intently. “I don’t mind though. I mean it’s not a bad life.” I didn’t say anything. I knew if I did, we were going to end up fighting again. “So what’s the last movie you saw?” he asked, changing the subject.
It continued like this until I had gone through two plates of pasta, and half a bag of cookies. Eric ate the other half. I actually enjoyed talking to Eric and in those few hours, I laughed more than I had in the last month. It was carefree and relaxing, and I learned so much about him, things I would have never thought.
Like how he spent his eighteenth birthday in the hospital with a friend, instead of throwing a huge party. We talked about the weird stuff too, which was basically me telling him about the crazy adventures I dragged Daren on.
Before I realized the sun started to rise, and without saying a word Eric took my hand, leading me back towards the house. I was exhausted and my body ached all over. After brushing my teeth, I stepped out of the bathroom wearing one of Eric’s t-shirt, even though he’d shown me where my clothes were. Eric’s clothes were more comfortable though. Strangely, they seemed almost familiar, like I had been wearing his clothes to sleep all my life. I left the door slightly ajar, allowing just enough light to coat the front of the room. Then I climbed into bed, only to toss and turn.
My body felt sore. My back and neck ached. My shoulders felt as if weights were placed on them, and my legs were groaning in pain. I was tired yet, my mind refused to let me rest. It kept bringing up topics I would rather bury.
I was so confused right now. I loved Daren and I always will. He was my first love and after losing him the way I did, I didn't think I'd be able to love another person again. I didn't want to, because that would mean moving on, and I just couldn't, not after he'd died for me. But there was also this thing with Eric. How was I going to get out of this marriage? How did I stop these feelings for him? Did I even want to?
* * *
I was stuck somewhere in the middle of sleep and reality. I was dreaming and in my dream, I was covered in blood, kneeling at his side, begging him to wake up. I literally felt the tears streaming down my face, leaving a burning trail on my cheeks. I heard myself screaming. Then hands were violently shaking me as though its owner wanted to crush me. I
opened my eyes pushing at the hands, not wanting to be touched.
“Hey,” Eric said, his face inches from mine. “It’s just a dream. You're fine.” He was still shaking me as I fought him. It took a moment for us to both stop, and when he released me I sat up on the bed, wiping my face dry. “I heard you all the way in the other room. You okay?”
“Sorry,” I muttered, not answering as images of my dream and the reality behind it flashed in my head, making my stomach turn. I shot out of the bed and into the washroom. I had barely made it to the toilet before most – if not everything – that I had eaten came up.
After I was done, I went to the sink. I felt sick and worn out, and it wasn't just because of the dreams or lack of sleep. I opened the tap and washed my mouth.
“Jen are you okay?” I turned to find Eric standing in the doorway.
“No,” I muttered, exhausted. “Go away.” Instead of doing what I asked he walked into the small room and stopped at my side.
“What's the matter?”
“Nothing,” I lied turning back to the sink.
“Did you take your medication?”
Before I could stop myself I said “No.” I had stopped taking my meds completely since I found out his father was my supplier.
“Then that's why you're throwing up.” He reached into the medicine box and came out with a small, ambercoloured looking bottle that I knew all too well. “You didn't take it yesterday either,” he commented and began uncapping it. Before he could finish, I snatched the bottle from his hands.
“I can do it myself,” I said facing him and he dropped his hands to his side waiting expectantly. “Do you mind?”
His eyes narrowed at me, taking me in. I held his gaze. “Okay,” he sighed giving up, shuffling out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. As soon as I heard the click, I slouched over to the door and turned the lock, then went back to the sink.
I waited for a minute and then uncapped the bottle, taking out three of the pills. Another minute passed as I stared down at the brown oval shaped pills that suddenly felt too heavy in my hands. I shook away the doubt in my head and turned towards the toilet dropping them in. As soon as they hit the water, they began to dissolve, staining the water a faint pinkish color. I flushed the toilet once, recapped the bottle then replaced it in the medicine box and walked out of the room.
Eric was sitting on the bed practically burning a hole through the bathroom door. When I walked out, he perked up. Sometime while I was in there he had pulled on a t-shirt. “So are you okay now?” he asked scrutinizing my every move. “You don't look too good.”
My heart kicked off. “I'm fine,” I lied in the most normal voice I could manage.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I breathed out, trying to calm my frantic heart. If I was going to pull this off, I needed to be as normal as I could. “I'm just... hungry,” I sighed, again another lie. I wasn't in the mood for food or anything else for that matter. I really wanted to go back to bed.
“Okay,” he nodded. “Come on.” He stood up and took my hand, leading me to the kitchen. “So what do you want?”
“I really don't care Eric, as long as it’s food.” He nodded and gestured for me to sit. Normally I would stand just to piss him off, but I was too tired, so I did as he ordered and then dropped my head on the shiny countertop.
Thoughts of my mom flew into my head. I remembered how sometimes on morning she would fix me breakfast. Of course all she ever had time for was milk and cereal before she had to go to work, but I missed it. I missed her. All we'd had together was three weeks and most, if not all of that time weren't good.
“Jen,” I raised my head, and as I did Eric shoved a bowl of cereal in front of me even though it was just after 3am, and way too early for breakfast. I felt my jaw hit the floor. “Jen, are you okay?” he frowned. Things were coming back to me - questions and conversations, impossible ones. “Jen?” he asked uncertainly.
“How did you know?” I asked narrowing my eyes at him.
“How did I know what?” he whispered.
“Don't give me that shit, Eric. You know what I'm talking about.” My temper was slowly rising. I hated being lied to.
“Okay... Jen please can we just leave that alone...” he begged rounding the counter to come at my side.
“No!” I snapped, jumping off the stool, backing away from him. “I have had dreams about this place – this house – my entire life, and you bring me here... of all places you bring me here...” I trailed off knowing I was sounding crazy.
“This house has been in my family for generations Jen. This is like a second home,” he explained though something was brewing behind his perfect blue eyes. My back bounced against the wall giving me nowhere to go, yet still Eric kept walking towards me.
“Eric,” I whispered, holding my hands up, palms facing him, warding him away. “My parents lied to me my entire life... the only person I fully trust is dead… don't, please...” Tears streamed down my face as I bowed my head and dropped my hands, giving up. He was never going to tell me the truth.
A second later, I felt his hand on my chin, raising my head up so I could face him. I let him. He studied me for a minute, then sighed giving in. “I,” he inhaled. “Since my eighteenth birthday I could read people... their body language...” he whispered.
He didn't say anything more, giving me time to digest it. I swallowed not looking at his face. The seconds dragged on, and I realized he was waiting for me to say something. I pushed past him, wiping my tears away as I walked over to the sofa, sitting down, hugging my knees close to my chest.
After a second of being frozen, he turned to face me slowly with pleading eyes. I pointed to a spot on the sofa next to me and he hesitantly shuffled towards it. He sat down being careful not to touch me. I couldn't understand why.
“What do you mean 'read people'?”
“I know what people around me are thinking - their exact thoughts... images... I know exactly what they're going to say or what movements they’re going to make... I see things in people... things they themselves can't see... I read everything - body language, expressions... everything,” he explained slowly.
“Are you...” I blinked not sure how to phrase the sentence. I was going to sound insane. “Are you... doing it to me right now?” I whispered, afraid to speak.
“No,” he shook his head. “I never read you, not willingly.” His voice was firm and truthful.
My heart hammered against my rib cage. “What do you mean 'willingly'?”
“Sometimes your body language is so... loud and strong that I read you... without trying to,” he explained and I nodded, feeling relieved.
“How... is this even possible?” I started after a moment.
“It's something that happens in my family.” Again, I nodded.
“Why..?” At this he sighed and turned away from me. This was the question he didn't want me to ask. His reaction only fuelled my curiosity though. “Eric,” I said crawling up to his side. I turned his face to me. “Why?”
He shoved me aside and got off the sofa. He then took a few steps away from me while running a hand through his hair. “I can't tell you yet.” He didn't turn back to me.
“Why?” I asked again.
“Because I just can't.” His voice came out strained and annoyed, but I knew it wasn't directed at me. He turned to me and his face was pleading for me to let this go, but I couldn't just drop this.
“How does it work?”
He sighed, sitting back down, again being cautious not to touch me. “I focus on someone and then I just know what they're thinking... what the things they do mean... exactly what body movements they are going to make next... I focus on the little things you do - like the way someone moves their finger or walk... talk, let out a breath... the perfume someone wears...
“I'm not explaining it right...” he sighed frustrated at himself. “Do you know that TV show, The Mentalist?” I nodded. I had heard about it, but n
ever actually watched a full episode. “It's kind of like what the guy does. He looks at every detail, no matter how small or insignificant... just at the end, I know exactly what you're thinking. It's completely unemotional and mental.”
“Okay,” I frowned. “Read me?” I had to make sure that this was real and just wasn't a hot, crazy, psycho dude.
A smile suddenly appeared on his face. He was trying to hide it though. “So you think I'm hot?”
“I never said that.” It was an automatic response. His smile grew brighter and he gave up on hiding it.
“You like my smile,” he said beaming. I bit my lower lip, annoyed now narrowing my eyes at him. At the exact moment my expression changed, his did too, perfectly mimicking me. I swallowed and he did the same, then hesitantly I raised my hand up in front of me and he copied my movements, instantly bringing his hand up just inches away from mine. I dropped my hand staring as he did the same. “With you it's different though...” he whispered.
“How?”
“It's… stronger. I see you, and you're not like everybody else. There are... cracks and dark spots running through you… But I don't know why..?”
“Stop,” I whispered and he nodded. “That's not all you can do though?” I asked already knowing the answer. “When we were fighting you moved so fast I thought I imagined it. I didn't, did I?” Again, I already knew the answer.
“No, you didn't.”
“What else can you do?” My voice was hesitant and overly controlled.
“My senses are heightened… kinda like yours.”
A deep frown pierced my face. “How'd you know 'bout that?” His only response was a gentle smile as he raised a finger, tapping his head. My God, what was he? How was this even possible?
“Now I have something to ask you?” This shocked me, he was the one with the creepy, voodoo mind reading thing, and he was interested in asking me questions? This should be the other way around. “Do you hate me now?”
It took me a long while to answer. How could I hate him? I hadn't hated him when I wanted to, and I didn't hate him now. “You promise you don't read me?”
“No,” he whispered.
“Then I don't hate you-” That was as far as I got. Eric grabbed me, hugging me fiercely. I realized now why he had been careful earlier, he'd thought I was judging him. He cupped my face and planted a quick kiss on my forehead.
