by S. M. Bowles
I tried to shake off my fear and closed my eyes. It was hard for me to imagine that I could fall asleep after lying in bed for two days but once I pulled the covers up I felt willing to give it a try. I closed my eyes and pretended that I was sleeping, a trick I would sometimes use to help me when I thought I was going to have trouble actually falling asleep. I didn’t think it was going to work this time and sat up but when I did, I got the sense that I was not in my own room.
I looked around and tried to focus on my surroundings wondering where I was and how I had gotten there. It was very dark but I could see a sliver of light off to my right. As I made my way towards the light I realized that it was the sun peeking through some heavy drapes. I reached out with both my hands and wrenched them open. The room was flooded with light and as I looked around it seemed familiar to me.
The bed where I was resting was a giant four-poster covered with a thick coverlet. I approached it and ran my fingers over the dense fibers. There was a loose thread that caught my eye and I moved to the end of the bed and picked it up with my forefinger and thumb. I gave it a tug to remove it from the bedding but it didn’t seem to be attached to the coverlet.
I followed the thread’s path with my gaze and saw that it flowed over the edge of the bed and out an open doorway. I began to wind it around my palm and followed it through the doorway. As I stepped through I realized that I was somewhere new. It seemed to be an arboretum centered in a multi-level shopping mall. There was a fountain in front of me and the water was sprouting up and twinkling down in a rhythmic pattern.
The thread seemed to pass through the middle of the fountain and to continue on once it reached the other side. As I traced its path I noticed a man sitting on the ledge of the fountain with his back to me. I desperately wished he would turn around and look at me for some reason but he got up and walked away in the direction of the thread.
I tried to wind more frantically and continued to follow the string certain that it was there for me, to lead me to wherever I needed to go. The sliding doors that exited the mall were right in front of me and as they glided back they revealed another new local. I was in front of an apartment building and there were rows upon rows of little balconies leading up to the rooftop. The thread streamed as far as I could see up the side of the building and I was not sure how I could go about following it.
I tried climbing onto the rail of the lowest balcony and stretched myself upwards. Somehow I was able to reach the rails of the balcony on the next floor and pull myself up. I reached and stretched and made my way to the top of the building. My heart was pounding with the effort and when I stopped to catch my breath I looked down and saw the loose strand trailing off towards the corner of the roof. I took a deep breath and resumed winding it around my palm. After a while my hand started to ache and began to look as though it was covered with a massive mitten because I had gathered so much of the string.
As I got closer to the corner where the thread was lying I saw the man again, standing on the edge looking down. He was not facing me and I felt the anxious pain again that I needed him to look at me, to see me and that I was trying to reach him. I tried calling but either he didn’t hear me or he chose to ignore me. He stepped onto the tiny ledge and stood perfectly still for a moment then jumped over the side of the building.
I ran to the edge and looked down but the man was gone. There was nothing there but the thread dangling in the breeze as it trailed to the ground. Again I didn’t know what to do; I knew I couldn’t survive a jump like that. It seemed like a completely foolish idea but I unwound some of the string thinking to tie it to something and to use it for a rope to climb down. There was a ventilation pipe nearby and I wrapped layer after layer of the thread around it then gave it a hearty tug. For such a fine strand it seemed very strong.
I looked over the edge of the building and was momentarily decided against my intentions. I gazed up into the night and whispered a little prayer and as if in answer a shooting star zipped across the sky. I tried to gauge how much slack I would need to make it to the ground, I unwound it, turned my back and stepped over the edge. I planted my feet and pushed off. I shimmied down the building and when I got to the ground a gust of wind whipped the thread and it tumbled down to land at my feet.
I quickly began winding it back up twisting it around and around my hand. It took a while to gather it all again and once I did I resumed my journey. I followed the thread into the nearby woods and when I came out on the other side I noticed that it was leading me towards a motorcycle parked on the shoulder of a nearby road. I was many yards away from where it sat and every step I took seemed to bring me no closer to it.
I felt like I had to hurry and as I started to run I saw the man again exiting the woods and straddling the bike. He was wearing a helmet and I couldn’t see his face and I did not know if he had seen me. I wanted to go with him; I needed to go with him wherever he was off to.
“No, no,” I started shouting, “wait, I’m here, you have my thread, please give it back to me. Please don’t take my thread,” I held it to my chest as I tried to run to where he sat on the bike.
I was frantic with fear and grief stricken when the motorcycle started and its shrieks covered my cries. He pulled from the shoulder onto the road and I fell to my knees in failure. The thread started unwinding from my hand; faster and faster it chased after the man and the motorcycle.
“Oh,” I cried as I tried to snatch it and keep it from escaping me but it was burning my hand as it was being drawn so quickly across my palm. The pain was excruciating but I refused to let go.
“Lily,” someone was shaking me, “Lily, wake up.”
“No, no, I need to catch the thread, don’t you see it, it’s leaving me.”
“Lily what are you talking about?”
I opened my eyes, “Aunt Margaret?”
“Yes, dear, I’m here. I’m here sweetheart,” she was cradling me.
Margaret had never comforted me like that before and I melted at her touch. The tears were relentless as they rained down and down and down.
“I lost him, Aunt Margaret, I lost him.”
“Lost who?” her voice was full of confusion but I sensed there was something else, almost a touch of fear in her question.
I tried to answer but my thoughts were no longer coherent. I didn’t know what I was saying or why I was saying it and suddenly I didn’t know why I was in bed or why I was crying or why Margaret was trying to soothe me. It all erupted into a chaotic display of memories that I was unable to sort out. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. As I regained my composure I pulled away from Margaret.
“I’m sorry Aunt Margaret. It was just a bad dream.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked concernedly.
I laughed with a touch of lunacy, “I don’t remember,” I shook my head, “I’ve already forgotten it, can you believe that? Am I going crazy?” I turned a wild-eyed gaze on Margaret.
“No, honey, no, of course not. You’ve been through a lot and you’re not feeling well. You mustn’t think any more of it than that.”
Chapter 17
I barely remembered the school year ending and if it weren’t for Charlie I was sure I would never have made it through my finals and onto my senior year. Margaret was piling her care and concern on me and despite everything she and all of my friends did to lift my spirits I couldn’t seem to pull myself together. My mind was constantly wandering off to some other place and every day felt more like a dream than reality. I was quiet and subdued; I had no enthusiasm and only went through the motions of having a good time with my friends. Whenever we were together all I could think about was how soon it would be before I could safely excuse myself from whatever it was we were up to and hurry off to spend some time alone.
I didn’t know what was causing me to feel like I did as I drifted from one day to the next but the sense of disconnection I felt seemed to pervade all the empty minutes of my daily life. Sometimes I lost m
y perception of time and place while I considered over and over again all the things I wished I could remember. I would try to picture my mother or my father and what our life together was like. Sometimes I tried to imagine what my life would be like if they were still with me.
There were many, too many, mornings that I woke up on a pillow dampened by a night of endless tears. I was constantly wondering why my life suddenly seemed so tragic to me. My friends, Margaret, Kaley, my home; there were so many bright and worthy objects all around me and I could not appreciate them the way I knew I should. Sometimes I would grow angry and resent them all for the ease with which they found happiness in even the simplest and most mundane of endeavors.
Charlie seemed the most aware of how I was feeling and the most determined to shake me from it. He came by regularly on some pretense or other and often stayed for dinner at Margaret’s open ended invitation. He was soothing to be around and his patience with my lapses bordered on sainthood so more often than not I didn’t bother to resist his efforts to engage me in whatever activity was at hand.
“You just need time,” he and Margaret constantly assured me.
“Time,” it seemed endless and vague.
Towards the end of summer Charlie seemed to be growing more and more anxious that his efforts weren’t having any effect. He and Missy had broken up shortly after summer break began and he came by more and more frequently so I couldn’t help noticing how uptight he was. I knew he had feelings for me but I couldn’t make sense of them especially since I was so detached and indifferent. I didn’t understand why he was so persistent but I was grateful that he managed to keep me going when little else did.
He came by to visit one afternoon and it briefly crossed my mind that I should tell him that I appreciated all he had done for me but he was wasting his summer and he shouldn’t worry about me. As I sat across from him at the kitchen table though I realized that he must have been talking to me because he was staring at me looking as though he were waiting for a reply and I quickly lost my train of thought, “What’s that, Charlie, I’m sorry.”
“I asked if you would like to try and log some miles this weekend. What do you say are you up for a ride?”
I forced a smile that I honestly did not feel, “Sure, that sounds great.” I could see that Charlie was not satisfied with my response but he took my answer and ran with it.
“I was out with Zach last week and found a new trail. We think it may be a bootleg.”
I frowned, “Bootleg?”
“Yeah, an illegal trail. The state park only allows a certain number of trails on the public lands to preserve the natural environment as best it can. There are some parts of the park that are clearly marked off-limits but we saw another rider walk his bike a little way into one of the restricted areas. A few seconds later he hopped on his bike and pedaled away. Zach and I went to where he took off from and sure enough, there was a trail there. We rode a few miles of it but couldn’t go any further because it was starting to get dark. I want to finish exploring and thought if you were up for it we could check it out together.”
I felt a spasm of regret whenever Charlie used the word together ; do you want me to come by so we can do our homework together, do you want to ride together this weekend, let’s get together with Zach and Danielle and go to the movies or something. There was a combination of reasons for that. I felt partially to blame, for one that Charlie and Missy were no longer together. Then there was the horrible realization that I was not at all together and on top of that was the blatantly obvious Charlie wanted us to be together.
Charlie was pretty much the sweetest person I knew and he had really grown into his looks since freshman year. He was not spectacularly handsome but he was cute and smart and just about the only person I had fun with those days. He was always quick to forgive, too, especially when he brought me back from my reflections and I was snappish and sharp because sometimes I just didn’t want to come back.
He suggested a time to come by to pick me up and I readily agreed. It was hard for me to disagree or form much of an opinion about so many things. I had a hard time feeling anything but indifferent towards whatever was proposed whether it was where we should go or what we should do or what I’d like to eat. None of it seemed to matter but I had learned that it was easier to make it through the day under the guise of taking an interest and participating. If I didn’t I would end up fielding a million questions that I either didn’t feel like answering or simply didn’t have the answers to.
Margaret overheard us making our plans for riding and smiled. I was glad that I made her happy by accepting Charlie’s invitation. “Are you staying for dinner tonight, Charlie?” she asked.
“No, not tonight, I have a thing.”
He said that from time to time, “I have a thing.” I was not thoughtful enough to question him about it, though Margaret had once before and asked him curiously, “Any thing special?”
All he said was “Nah,” and shrugged his shoulders in a dismissive manner that suggested he had nothing more to say about it. Margaret was not one to pry so she let it go at that.
After Charlie left I helped Margaret with dinner and while it was cooking I took Kaley for her evening walk. It was a good thing that she was so familiar with our routines. There had been more than a time or two that I lost track of what we were doing and just kept wandering down the greenway. Kaley would just plop down when that happened and would refuse to walk any further. She outweighed me by about 20 lbs. and when she did this I would reach the end of the slack on her leash and get a gentle tug back to reality. It would remind me that it was time to search for any of Kaley’s trophies and to head back home.
It was beautiful morning when Charlie came to pick me up for our ride. It was warm and sunny and everything seemed so fresh. I wondered if it had rained or if there was just a lot of dew because the sun hadn’t had a chance to burn it off yet.
“Did it rain last night Charlie?”
“Uh, uh,” he said, “if it did, I might have asked to reschedule for tomorrow. I just cleaned my bike and the prospect of getting it muddy and having to clean it all over again is not all that appealing.”
Charlie fetched my bike and I tucked the cooler Margaret packed for us into the backseat. I offered to help Charlie when I was done but he assured me that he had it and so I settled into the passenger’s seat and buckled up. We were both quiet on the way to the trailhead; nothing unusual for me but Charlie typically had an arsenal of dialogue to keep my mind from wandering off on any of its murky paths.
Between the quiet and rhythm of the drive I began to sink into my little cocoon. When Charlie parked the car he looked over at me and put a hand on my shoulder.
“What’s that Charlie, did you say something?” I snapped to.
“Do you still love him? Is that where you always go when you leave us? Is that why you can’t open up to me?” He asked.
I didn’t know who Charlie was talking about so I assumed he must have meant my father because there was no other him in my life.
“Who Charlie? My dad? Of course I still love him; at least I think I do. You know I don’t remember much of anything before coming to live with Aunt Margaret. That’s a really odd question Charlie.”
“Do you really not remember?” he persisted.
Again, I thought he was talking about my childhood, my father, my mother, how much I recalled from growing up.
“I can’t imagine why you would even ask that Charlie but no, I don’t remember. Sometimes I don’t remember anything, sometimes I don’t remember one moment from the next,” I felt like I was about to cry. I had no idea what point Charlie was trying to make with his line of questioning. “Do you think I don’t care about you Charlie, because I do? I care an awful lot but if you are trying to say that I can’t let you in because I’m afraid of losing you the way I did my family, I can assure you that is not the case.”
He was studying me, looking for something in my expression, in my eyes.
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“Charlie if I have any reason for keeping you out it is because you deserve better. I am broken and there is nothing in this world that will fix me. This is who I am, who I will always be. Can you honestly imagine a happy relationship with me? How do you know I won’t just wake up one day and have forgotten you?”
“I would remember you and that would be enough,” he whispered.
I was so angry then! I hated that he was so devoted and so sincere because I really didn’t want to face the fact that I simply didn’t love him and that in all likelihood I would never love him or anyone else for that matter. Not as I was, anyway. I spoke honestly when I told him I was broken and that I believed there was nothing in the world that would fix me.
I hopped out of the car and slammed the door. I moved around to the back and started fidgeting with the straps trying to release my bike. Charlie stepped up and put his hand on mine. I was shaking with grief and anger but I wouldn’t stop what I was doing. He took my hand away from the straps and held me back from any further efforts to fetch my bike from the rack. Then he started hugging me and telling me how sorry he was, that I was right and he was asking too much, too soon from me.
It took several minutes for Charlie to calm me down and when he did he led me back to the passenger’s seat and had me sit while he finished removing the bikes. He retrieved all our gear from the backseat; helmets, gloves, glasses and after a little coaxing managed to get me ride-ready. He adjusted his chin strap and called to me.
“C’mon Lily, let’s have some fun!”
I looked up and there was no indication in his expression of what had just happened. He looked determined to make the most of it since we were there and it was such a beautiful day. We hopped on our bikes and headed down the main trail. It took about 5 minutes to get to the spot where Charlie believed the bootleg trail to be. He rested his bike against a tree and had me wait while he wandered around and attempted to locate the beginning of the trail.
