Hollow Sight

by Kristie Pierce

  “Breckin, are you awake?” Liam asks, standing over me.

  I blink and look to him, then to his bathroom door, then back to his amused expression. He stands, fully dressed in dark jeans and a sweater, hair dry and clean shaven. He smells like clean soap and soft pine. How long had I been daydreaming?

  “Huh?” Always a brilliant answer.

  “I think you fell back asleep,” he suggests. “What am I going to do with you?” he says in mock exasperation.

  “Sorry,” I whisper groggily. “I’m up, I promise. I’ll go get ready,” I answer slowly.

  “And I’m coming with you,” Liam says firmly.

  “Huh?” I babble again.

  “You don’t want to be alone, no?”

  I shake my head. Liam is absolutely right to assume that. Until tonight’s over and done with, there is no way I will ever want to be alone.

  “Okay, come on sleepy head. Let’s go get you ready.”

  We both walk – he walks, I shuffle – back to my room and as Liam opens the door to my borrowed bedroom, I suck in a tiny breath and hold it. I don’t know if I was waiting for something or someone to pop out and say boo or if I expected an unwanted visitor to be waiting for me to cause unyielding pain... maybe I’m half waiting for both. However, seeing this light and bright room encased with sunlight makes it seem almost impossible to except all the fears I had enveloped myself with last night. Sunbeams dance off the ice crystals hanging outside the big bay window casting rainbows onto the wooden floor creating a luminescent canvas of colors and light. The white lace canopy bed seems to be glowing from the sunrays shining through its thin linens giving it the angelic appearance of wings outstretching their length. It doesn’t seem possible that this is the same room that housed and helped create all of the black, menacing silhouettes that had been mocking me the night before.

  Liam helps me hobble into the bathroom and makes me sit on the edge of the antique tub as he starts the water. “Are you sure you want to go into London today? You look shattered.” Liam comments as he adjusts the shower curtain.

  “I’ll be fine. Just need to wake up is all.”

  “I could have Marjorie bring up some coffee if you'd like,” he suggests. “A little caffeine boost.”

  I shake my head. “Might stunt my growth.”

  Liam laughs. I do feel extremely tired but I figure it’s just due to the fact that I’ve been up late the last couple of nights and the time change doesn’t help I’m sure. I yawn and Liam raises his eyebrows. I smile half way through the yawn to try and reassure I’m really okay, but I probably just end up looking like a mutated crazy person trying to swallow air.

  “So,” I begin after I stop yawning. “What will you be showing me today?”

  “Well, there’s the usual I guess: Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, the Palace of Westminster… or I can show you around my favorites which are places that aren’t on any tourist map. It’s up to you.”

  Liam looks over to me with a gleam in his eye waiting for my answer.

  “I’ll do whatever makes you happy,” I smile. “Just as long as I’m with you.” Apparently tired equals gooshy today.

  “Okay, baby,” Liam answers. I’m glad he’s going along with the mushy talk. I’m thrown by the baby endearment, though. Usually it’s love.

  “What’s with the baby?” I ask and then yawn again.

  “I’m testing it out. Don’t like the baby?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrug.

  “I’m not supposed to refer to you as sexy, so I can’t use that one,” he smirks. I scowl. “I’ll step out, you get showered, I’ll be just in there, and we’ll be on our way.”

  The shower temperature is perfect and I’m not sure how long I manage to stand under the running water as I let the hot stream beat against my skin. Not long enough, but after I’ve lathered and exfoliated and rinsed, I figure it’s time to get out. Liam seems excited to show me around London and that makes me excited as well. I brush my teeth, comb out my hair, and then realize as I stand wrapped up in a big plushy towel that I haven’t grabbed any clothes to change into. Well, this could be awkward…

  I tiptoe over to open the bathroom door and realize that it’s cracked just like Liam had done while he showered. I stick my head out and see Liam perched on the bed reading a book as he waits for me, not paying any attention toward the direction of where I now stand dripping wet and practically naked.

  “Liam?”

  He looks up and takes in my sodden hair and bare shoulders. “Er, yes?”

  “I didn’t grab clothes,” I say quietly.

  “Would you like me to get them for you or I can step out so you can –”

  “No!” I almost shout. “Please stay. I’ll get them. Ummm, just go back to reading your book.” I suggest.

  “All right,” he says reluctantly. He fidgets a bit and then determinately fixates his eyes on the pages in front of him.

  I pad toward the dresser and quickly grab a pair of jeans, debate on the last clean sweater I’d packed or the very inviting and comfortable looking hoodie next to it, deciding on the cottony goodness of the hoodie, snatch a pair of socks and undergarments, and dash back to the bathroom to change. Liam being the gentleman he is, never once snuck a glimpse at me as I danced around with wet hair and wearing nothing but a towel. I admit that a tiny part of me was a little disappointed that he hadn't, but I understand why he never strayed away from the book. He'll wait until I’m ready to venture down that road. But still, I probably would have snuck a forbidden peek…

  I dress quickly and then open the door all the way so that Liam and I no longer have any barrier between us. After blow drying my hair and curling the ends, I skip out of the bathroom to show I am, as promised, awake and ready.

  “Ready to go?” Liam asks, setting down the book.

  “Yep.”

  “You know what I just realized?” he asks with an amused smile.

  “What’s that?”

  “That I have never taken you out on an actual date. Shame on me.”

  “Soooooooo, this could be like our first date?” I smile idiotically.

  Liam shakes his head. “No. A first date would be one where I actually ask you out, pick you up, take you somewhere nice, and then escort you home. Of course I’ll end the night with walking you to your door and maybe if you allow me, I’ll try to steal a kiss.” He wags his eyebrows like a devilish and mischievous little boy.

  My face falls into an over-exaggerated pout and I push my lip out.

  “Stop that. A bird may come along and poop on it. And relax, you’ll get your first date. Have I ever let you down?”

  I feel my face fall into a very real pout then. I swallow and try to rearrange my features quickly, but it’s too late – he sees.

  “Scratch that,” Liam says, realizing where my thoughts are going. “I’ll give you a proper first date when this is all over with. One you’ll never forget and one where we don’t have… um, anything in the way. We'll be able to concentrate on just us.”

  “That sounds great,” I agree.

  Liam gets up and comes to wrap his strong arms around me. I bury my face into his chest and sigh. I won’t let mention of the little blurp in our past ruin our day. We have enough impending doom fast heading towards us to let my sensitive reaction put a damper on things. I have excepted it as the past, and it’s time for me to let it go, let what happened between us fall away and let it be. I can't keep dwelling on it, and I won't.

  “Are we ready to go?” I ask in an upbeat tone, looking up to his face.

  He kisses the tip of my nose. “Yes.”

  Liam and I head downstairs and he hands me my coat and scarf and puts his on as I do mine. I feel a small pang of disappointment when I think that I look like a frumpy traveler next to Liam as I take in his well fitted jeans, his ivory sweater that contours his well-defined chest, his sheik leather coat, and the designer knit hat he throws on over his tousled hair. I look down to my clunky
boots and jeans, then the oversized sweatshirt I’ve decided to wear. Maybe I should have gone with the sweater after all. Perhaps then I wouldn’t feel so unsightly next to him. I roll my eyes at myself and give up on the thought while I toss on my favorite winter hat; one that has warm cotton lining accompanied with long tassels that cover my cheeks.

  “You like?” I ask as I playfully swing the white cord hanging from my face.

  “Looks warm,” Liam comments. And ugly, I think.

  “Is Andrew driving us today?” I ask as he opens the front door allowing a whoosh of cold arctic air to swoop inside.

  “Nope. I am.”

  “But your car is back home, I mean in Michigan.”

  “We’ll be taking my mum’s.”

  After veering me toward the garage and not the horse stables, which is where I was headed, Liam and I climb into Beth’s dark blue-ish, purple-ish Audi and head out for the day.

  “What color is this?” I ask as I peer over the dash, squinting into the sun and watching the paint change color before my eyes.

  “It’s chameleon paint. Neat isn’t it?”

  “I’ll say.”

  The drive isn’t as long as I’d remembered it being from the airport. Liam holds my hand and sits in silence as I better appreciate my surroundings this time. I’d been too preoccupied by a nervous stomach to take in England’s fine country sides when I last saw them. This time though, everything is covered in a blanket of newly fallen snow giving every hill top and house a fresh, clean appearance. The roads we drive are narrower than those back home and riding on the opposite side of the road doesn’t bother me as much as it had before. Maybe I’m just getting used to it now. Eventually the road curves around the river, hugging its banks closely. The water is choppy with waves as big as boulders, and the color of it dark with bitter cold.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Liam begins, breaking the comfortable silence. “But we’re meeting someone for lunch before I take you on today’s outings.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Oh? Who are we meeting.”

  “I rang my Nan early this morning and talked to her about our situation.”

  “You called your grandma?” I exclaim. “And told her about tonight?”

  Liam nods, slow and hesitant. “I hope that’s okay,” he adds quietly.

  “No, of course it is… I’m just… surprised that you told someone, I guess.”

  “Remember me explaining to you that Nan is a bit kooky? Well, I was thinking over and over in my head last night after what you’d told me what Sera had explained, and I was trying to figure out something, anything that would help us. Don’t forget that I’ve already told her about you,” he says pointedly.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” I say quietly. Told her about you. The way he says it makes me feel like some sort of science project. I hope he doesn’t notice my sensitivity to the subject. It isn't just sensitivity to him though; I’ve always been sensitive of my gift.

  Liam gives me a sideways look, but otherwise doesn’t comment on my silence after that. I’m remembering how he’d told me that his entire family thought Nan was daft and how she loved to carry around crystals and light candles. And also her dreams. The way they come true sometimes, but not always. No one could ever figure out how she depicted which dreams came true or not.

  I reach down to my wrist and fiddle with the antique charm hanging from my bracelet, wondering if there’s some possible way that perhaps his grandma will have some knowledge to help Liam and I tonight. I really hope so. Daft people are, after all, usually the most intuitive.

  “Do you think your Nan will have any insight for what we have to do?” I murmur.

  Liam is hesitant for a minute, but then answers, “She didn’t say one way or the other, Breckin. But I am confidant she’ll be able to tell us something.”

  We arrive to the restaurant before Liam’s grandmother, but Liam decides that we can go in and get a table; apparently she’s always late. The restaurant is small but cozy with its wall lanterns and warm light-brown paint. Both the ceiling and floors are made up of very dark wood, looking a lot like the wood inside the Francis home. Liam directs us to a booth and I notice that none of the chairs or benches have any kind of plush vinyl lining or cushion to them; instead there are mounds and mounds of throw pillows, all made up of vastly colored quilt patterns and various fabrics. We sit directly across from the bar that has way more lighting than the rest of the restaurant. It’s back wall is made up entirely of small pebble stones cemented in place with a large, black chalkboard nailed in the center with today’s specials scrawled across it.

  Liam hands me a menu from behind the tin napkin holder with the words Pub Grub on the top, and as I look over the items, I apprehend that I have never heard of most of these dishes. I can’t imagine what my face must look like as I read things like Shepherd’s Pie, Banger’s and Mash, Yorkshire Pudding, and Broiled Scrod. Where is the chicken?

  “See anything you like?” Liam asks as I look up to meet his eyes. Clearly he’d been watching me and is now much amused by what he sees.

  “Uh, no, not yet.”

  “Here,” he says while gesturing to the other side of the menu. “This is more your speed.”

  I look to where he’s pointing and see dishes that are definitely more to my liking. Grilled Chicken Breast with a honey mustard glaze, a Mac N Cheese Skillet, Fish ‘n’ Chips, and eeeeeww Liver and Onions. Aside from that last one, these choices are a lot better. There are even choices of different burgers listed.

  “I should probably warn you, I wasn’t kidding when I said that Nan is a bit daft.”

  I laugh. “Well I guess I’ll get to find out, won’t I?”

  As if on cue, the door to the restaurant swings open with more force than necessary and in walks a woman dressed to the nines. She wears a long, black fur coat with a bright red scarf wrapped around her neck, and under that I see a glimpse of heavy diamonds. She has her silver hair swept up away from her face with a sparkling comb, and heels that clack against the wooden floors of the restaurant.

  “Well, I can see why he is so battered over you,” the woman says as she strides over to our table. Her voice is deep for a woman’s and her English accent very thick. Liam stands to meet her very poised stature, his well engraved manners taking over, and I follow suit to stand so that I can be properly introduced.

  “Nan, this is Breckin,” Liam says with a warm smile. “Breckin, Nan.”

  “Call me Carling,” she nods.

  I extend my hand so that I am able to shake hers, and as her well-manicured hand meets mine, I feel a lumpy velvet cloth touch my palm. When the fabric makes contact with my skin, a whirl of soft voices begin to echo in my ears. My eyes shoot up to meet hers in widened alarm. I rip my hand away from hers, and after I see that she’s dangling a tiny black bag from her arthritic hands.

  “I-I’m sorry,” I stammer.

  “No apologies needed. Oh, look at the light surrounding you,” she muses as she takes her seat.

  I look to her with a puzzled expression and then glance at Liam as we both sit down. He appears to be just as perplexed as I am and I’m not sure what to do or say after I’ve behaved so rudely. I glance down to my hand under the table not sure what I’ll find. It was much like the day I had touched Liam’s head with the warm white light that had encased my palms. But, too, just like that day, my hand looks no different.

  “You certainly are quite the dish. Liam you’ve done well for yourself. Much better than that ninny you wrapped yourself up with last time.”

  “Nan,” Liam says firmly.

  “Oh yes, yes, yes. Where are my manners? What was her name? May she rot in peace.”

  My eyes widen largely and my jaw very well may have hit the table. I assume that she’s talking about Evie, and although I certainly dislike her, but wow!

  “Nan!” Liam exclaims.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Breckin. Oh, may I call you Kinney? I like that.”

  I feel my c
heeks turning red and I hope it doesn’t show with the low lighting of the restaurant. I swallow the lump in my throat to answer her.

  “Well, actually, my um… ex-boyfriend used to call me Kenny, and I didn’t like it all that much. Kinney kind of sounds similar to me.”

  “Yes, I can see why. Hmm, what is your surname? Nicolai, is it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That is certainly an interesting surname. I think I shall call you Nicky.”

  I look over to Liam and he rolls his eyes. “Nan likes to have pet names for everyone in the family. It’s Nan-code,” he scoffs. “She often makes up words for uncomfortable situations as well, but it’s just a bunch of piffle,” he continues under his breath.

  “Pish-posh,” she tsks. “It makes things more personable, don’t you agree? I like to give pet names for those I like. There’s no harm in that. And Nicky, I like you.”

  “Thank-you, Carling.” I say. What else am I supposed to say? Thanks for another boyish nickname? I don’t like Nicky all that much more than Kenny or Kinney, but to be polite I’ll keep my mouth shut.

  “Now, before we chirp about what just happened with my little bag of tricks, let’s eat. This old dafty woman needs a bite .”

  I order the Mac-N-Cheese Skillet while Liam orders Fish ‘n’ Chips – something he promises to share with me because apparently I can’t come to England and not try this particular food the way it’s meant to be eaten – and Nan orders the Banger’s and Mash. The pub is quiet with few people occupying the tiny space. The three of us talk freely, not that that would have stopped his Nan from being vociferous when she spoke as she uses large hand movements and exaggerated facial expressions while telling her stories. I have to admit though, she certainly has me laughing as she practically acts out her latest shopping trip to Harrods (where she just purchased the fur coat she strolled in with; faux she points out – she'd rather go naked than wear real animal fur). From what I gather this is not a store I’ll ever be able to shop in because of the prices. I about fall out of my chair when Carling stands up, shooting her arms into the air with whooping gestures, and begins clomping her feet against the wood floors as if she were running in place as she explains how she chased after the shoe-sales woman with “Paul Smith, Caitlyn Black Suede Boots” in hand all the way back to the store’s storage room after the girl had brought her several wrong imitations to try on.