Sanctity

by S. M. Bowles

  There were even a few nights that I didn’t wake up but knew Michael had been to see me because he would leave me a little something to let me know. Once it was a jar with flickering lights that looked just like fireflies. I kept it tucked in my closet so my parents wouldn’t question me about it and pulled it out the nights I wasn’t expecting Michael so I could watch them dance while I fell asleep. There were little flowers here and there, an occasional souvenir like a coin that he found from some far away country – simple reminders to let me know that he had come by.

  I so looked forward to seeing him at night that I would often lie awake with the hope that I would catch him the moment he arrived. He seemed to know that the late nights were becoming too much for me though and as he recovered himself he reluctantly accepted that it would not be possible for me to continue that way.

  He curbed his visits but he seemed always to be with me somehow. One night he came early and we slipped out to walk and talk in the crisp night air. It was still wintertime, so we didn’t stay out long and I couldn’t help feeling that he was withholding something from me. He told me that he would need to go away soon and though I tried not to cry when he left me that night I felt the dread of whether or not I would see him again.

  A number of sleepless nights passed before he came back to say goodbye. I was almost too tired to hear his call when he came.

  “Elayna,” his voice whispered in my head to wake me up.

  I grinned as he tickled my ear, “Elayna, wake up,” Michael was standing beside my bed as I came to.

  “I’m glad you came, I thought you had already left” I said as I somewhat unwilling pulled myself from sleep.

  He smiled and it was so genuine and heartfelt that I knew there was something more to his reply of, “I wouldn’t have gone without saying goodbye,” he tucked my hair behind my ear.

  “Oh,” I said, “what is it?” I pulled myself to sitting.

  “I cannot keep anything from you, can I?”

  “You could but I would know and it would hurt my feelings to think that you had a secret you were not sharing.” He looked sad, not enough to make me worry because I sensed that it was something unrelated to us that was weighing on him. I couldn’t help being concerned, though.

  “I have lots of secrets, ones that I cannot share,” he stated.

  “I know but,” I didn’t have the words to explain that I understood the difference between his private secrets and the ones we shared.

  He took my hand, “I know you understand,” he said as though he were deciphering my thoughts. “It’s time for me to go away for a little while.”

  I felt the tears growing behind my eyes.

  He sighed, “I think you need me to go, too.”

  I held back the swell of emotion as he shared his thoughts with me; all the reasons why he should go. It was all so simplistic and logical that I couldn’t think of any grounds to use as a protest to the suggestion. He didn’t tell me the full truth but it was just enough.

  “Are you sure, Michael, are you strong enough?” It was all I could think to say to cause him some doubt.

  “I’m sure.”

  I tried to gather up some courage, “Will you be gone very long?”

  “I don’t know but there is something I would like to do and it may take some time; maybe days, maybe even months.”

  I couldn’t help but gasp at the idea after being so close night after night. “Months,” I shook my head in disbelief.

  “I will help you, if you’ll let me.”

  I knew that he was asking to hide my memories again.

  My first reaction was a downright refusal of the idea but the thought of missing Michael night after night for months on end was heart wrenching. He convinced me of the proposal when he told me that he wished he could do the same for himself.

  “I will think of you every day and miss you every night. You will be a constant in all my thoughts and I will be miserable without you. I don’t want that for you. I want you to be happy so that I can be happy through you.”

  “Will you still be with me Michael? Will I know you are there?”

  “I will be with you but no, you will not know that I am there.”

  I took a deep breath, “OK, I’ll let you help me but you must promise me to come back if you’re not feeling strong.”

  “I promise.”

  Chapter 7

  A couple of weeks before my 9th birthday we moved to a new house. It was bright and sunny the day I found myself sitting in the backseat of our car while we followed the moving van to our new home. During the ride I thought about our old apartment and my friend Erica who lived in the building next door and how much I would miss my life there. It was really exciting, though, to know I would be living in a house.

  Michael and my father had been working together for a few months by then; mostly via phone and internet. He had gone away shortly after Christmas. My father told me and my mother that it was because his father had passed away and that he had gone to be with his mother to help her until she felt comfortable enough to be on her own. I felt very badly for him even though I only thought of him as Mr. Donovan, a client of my dad’s and only vaguely remembered him as someone I had met once or twice.

  Our new home was in subdivision just a few miles from the highway. Each of the houses was set back from the main road and seemed to have been placed in little alcoves that were cut into the surrounding forest. Though Michael was out of town at the time he had recommended the area to my father over the phone one night when my dad told him that we were thinking about moving. My parents fell in love with the neighborhood and ended up buying the very first house they viewed there.

  As we pulled into the driveway I could see that the movers were wasting no time and were getting ready to unload our furniture. Most of our old belongings came with us to the new house and some had been replaced. Since we had extra rooms my parents bought a number of new furnishings as well. The new rooms were already filled up since the furniture store had made their delivery earlier in the week. Those were the first I looked over before running upstairs to see my own room.

  It was much bigger than my old room and painted a light, buttery yellow. It had a small balcony just like my old bedroom but instead of a slider there were two French doors that led onto it. There was also a small walk-in closet, not as big as my parent’s old one but even with all my clothes and other belongings there would still be plenty of room leftover. I also had my own bathroom attached to my bedroom with a small vanity, a shower and tub as well. It all seemed very spacious and a little overwhelming to me. I was used to the close, coziness of my old room so my new room felt empty by comparison.

  After giving it a thorough inspection I wandered back downstairs. I watched as my parents directed the moving men as to where they wanted certain things placed. I didn’t want to get in the way but I wasn’t sure what I should be doing while everyone else was busy. My dad saw me milling about and suggested that I do a little exploring and take a walk in the woods around our new home. “Just don’t go too far, you should be alright as long as you can see the house.”

  I took his advice and made an exploratory circuit from the front yard to the back. I stepped a few feet into the woods that bordered the lawn and made my way the length of the backyard before I moved a few more feet in and looped back. I did this several times - moved a little further into the trees, looped, a little further. It was nice in the woods; cool and fresh. There were quite a few fallen trees and broken limbs lying on the ground as well as a heavy covering of old leaves. It smelled very earthy there and as I got further in it got a little darker as the trees and their leaves blocked out the sun. I thought I might be able to see some of our neighbor’s houses if I went far enough but the woods were a lot bigger than I imagined they would be.

  I could still see our house but I knew I should probably make my way back just to be safe. I came out at a different point than where I went in and noticed an aging swing set tucked into the
corner of the yard. There was also a little flower bed to the left of the swings that seemed to be made up mostly of wildflowers. One of the flowers in particular caught my eye. It was something called a tiger lily and for some reason it struck a chord with me. I walked over and snapped one of the stalks and took the flower with me as I headed into the house.

  “Hey sweetie, what have you got there?” my mom asked.

  “It’s a tiger lily, I think.”

  “It certainly is. Is it for me?”

  “Oh,” I paused somewhat reluctant to give it away, “yes, it’s for you,” I smiled and handed the flower to her.

  “Thank you so much; I’ll put it in some water and set it on the dining room table to cheer us through dinner.”

  I looked around and saw that the movers had gotten nearly everything into our new home. It was starting to come together and beginning to take on a familiar air with so many of our old belongings placed in as similar an arrangement as each of the rooms would allow.

  My mother brought the flower to the kitchen and put it in a long, thin vase. She handed it to me, “Would you put this on the dining room table for me?”

  I took the vase from her and transferred it to the dining room before heading back to the kitchen. “Is there anything I can do?” I was bored and everyone else was busy arranging furniture, putting stuff away in cabinets and so forth.

  “I think the movers may have put some of your things in your room, why don’t you go and see if you can manage finding a place for some of them.”

  “OK,” I said, not thrilled with the prospect but happy to have something to pass the time.

  I went upstairs and made my way to the first of the boxes marked with my name. I opened it and found that it contained my book collection. I skimmed over the titles and began placing them on the bookshelf one by one. It didn’t take long to empty the box and start on the next. The time seemed to be passing all too slowly and I began to wonder how long it would be before dinner. It was starting to get dark out, so I knew it must be close to when we would normally eat. As I finished with the last of my boxes my mother came to my doorway. “I think we need a break, Daddy suggested we go out for pizza, what do you think?”

  “I think that’s a great idea!”

  “Good, let’s get going, shall we?”

  She motioned me out of my bedroom and down the stairs. My father was waiting at the front door looking as though he could thoroughly use a little distraction from moving too. Once we were out everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. I was sure my parents had been working much harder than I had and so I was doubly glad to be getting out and for them to be taking a break. I felt like we had been disconnected throughout the whole house buying and moving process and wished things would hurry up and get back to normal.

  It was only a short drive to get to the local pizza shop and after we placed our order we all sat around for a moment reflecting on our own personal concerns. My dad perked up after a few minutes, “I almost forgot! Mr. Donovan will be back soon.”

  “Oh, well that’s good, you’ll finally have a chance to work face to face,” my mother chuckled.

  “I was wondering, how would you feel about inviting him to dinner one night, to welcome him home? Besides, I’m sure he would enjoy the company right now.”

  “I think that would be a very nice gesture,” she smiled. “When will he be back?”

  “He hasn’t said exactly, the 19th or the 20th, I believe.”

  “Hmm, Elayna’s birthday is that weekend; it would have to be sometime after.

  “Well, I’ll leave that for you to decide then. Just let me know which day is best and I’ll make sure to mention it to Michael when I see him.”

  Before they could discuss it any further our pizza arrived. Everyone was hungry and as soon as we were each served we all dug in. “Michael,” I thought the name softly to myself. It didn’t happen often but whenever either of my parents called Mr. Donovan by his first name I felt a twinge of happiness surge through me. It was like the name had some secret significance to me and I could never recall what it is.

  We finished our dinner and paid our check. Once we were home my mother told me that it was later than she thought and I should go ahead and get ready for bed. I was a little hesitant to try falling asleep on my own in the new house so I went back downstairs afterwards. My parents had decided to put off any more work on the house until the next day and were relaxing in the living room. I wandered up to my mom and asked if she would come sit with me for a bit.

  “Of course, sweetie,” she answered.

  I led the way back to my bedroom and she tucked me in.

  “Would you like me to read you a story?”

  “No, not tonight. Would you just keep me company until I am sleepy?”

  “Sure.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand. I smiled and whispered “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight sweetheart.”

  It took a few more days for my parents to get the house in order. My dad went back to work that Monday and I went back to school so my mom actually did most of it. She said she didn’t mind and that it was easier to get things done when no one else was around. By Wednesday she had managed to find a place for all our belongings and to have made any final adjustments as to the positioning of the furniture.

  Not long after we were settled my parents began encouraging me to go to bed without having one of them come tuck me in. I felt uncomfortable with the suggestion but they said that I was getting older and sooner or later I would have to get used to the idea. The Thursday before my birthday they insisted I give it a try. I was reluctant but agreed since I was feeling very grown up knowing that I was going to be 9 years old the very next day. My parents looked relieved when I said Goodnight and scurried up the stairs and into my room.

  I closed my bedroom door all the way and turned the closet light on. Then I adjusted the door so that there would be enough light to make out everything in my room and crawled beneath the covers.

  I was very nervous and I hoped that I would fall asleep quickly. I tried to keep my thoughts busy so I wouldn’t be so worrisome while I fell asleep. I imagined what my party would be like and who would be there and thought about what kinds of gifts I hoped to receive. I wondered if I might get breakfast in bed Friday morning or something special in my lunch bag to wish me a Happy Birthday. As I considered those ideas and thought about cake and ice cream I blissfully fell sound asleep.

  Hours later I suddenly had the sensation that I was being lifted up and found myself wide awake and being held too tightly. I was not at all frightened though and answered the hug with an enthusiastic one of my own.

  “Michael,” I buried my face in his neck, “you’ve come back!”

  “Oh, I’ve missed you,” he whispered into my hair.

  I didn’t know what to say, he had been out of my thoughts for so long. My memories rippled across my mind as they always did whenever we were suddenly reunited. I was overwhelmed by the spectrum of my emotions. I was happy and sad and excited and curious and so on and on.

  “Happy Birthday,” he said.

  “It’s not until tomorrow,” I corrected.

  “Ah, but it is tomorrow,” I could feel his smile against my cheek. “It’s after midnight.”

  I pulled back and looked him in the eye, “Is that why you came?”

  “Of course it is!”

  I wiggled to let him know to put me down, “I need to see you,” I said as I crossed the floor to my closet. I opened the door to let some extra light into my room and whirled about to examine him. He looked better than I ever remembered seeing him.

  “I’m so happy,” I said, knowing that he had been strong and hoping that I was the reason why.

  “You are,” he smiled intercepting my thought.

  “I‘m so sorry about your father, Michael.”

  “It’s OK, we weren’t that close. I just wanted to see my mother and make sure that she was well and to help her as
best I could while she needed me.”

  “How is she?”

  “She is doing much better now. I told her about you.”

  “You did?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice.

  He smiled so intensely that I couldn’t help but reflect his happiness in my own smile. “She knows that I have not been the nicest of people since…” he paused searching for an appropriate phrasing for what he wanted to say, “since before I met you. I needed to let her know that I had changed and the reason why.”

  I was tickled with the idea of being so influential.

  He looked around my room. “Do you like it?”

  “Oh, yes, very much!”

  He smiled warmly then his expression suddenly changed, “Get dressed,” he said and the way he said it convinced me that he had something special in store for me.

  “Really?”

  “Really!”

  He was so confident and carefree that I couldn’t begin to resist. I walked into my closet and closed the door behind me. I changed from my pajamas into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

  “Grab a sweater too,” he gently called to me.

  When I was done getting dressed he scooped me up and within half a moment we were outside and across the lawn, down the driveway and to the main road. He set me down and just as I was wondering what his intentions were I caught a glimpse of a motorcycle parked just off to the right of where we were standing. I had never been on a motorcycle before and I felt a little nervous at the prospect especially as I studied the one before me.

  It looked very fast, like it was made for a race track and not for a spin around town. Michael tucked my hair behind my ears and placed a helmet on my head. He buckled the chin strap and slid the visor down over my eyes. It was quite dark out so I remember being thankful that the lens was clear and I could still see as well as I normally would at night.