The whole drive over, my stomach fills with butterflies as I think of the way he kissed me, and how even in real life, we kissed each other like we’d known each other for years. In fact, and maybe I’m biased here because of the dream, I’ve always felt like I could be myself around him, and for some reason, we just click together. Despite his illness, and despite everything we’ve been through, he and I make sense. We just do.
I park and jog into the building, anticipation building in the pit of my stomach like a wildfire. When I walk into the lobby, all of the balloons are gone. Life is back to normal here at the Brattleboro Retreat. I feel a pang of guilt. I didn’t help anyone clean up—Instead, Sebastian and I holed ourselves up in his room all night, even though the party was being thrown in his honor. By the time I left his room last night, everyone was gone. I make a mental note to apologize to Emma and Darcy.
Cecelia is clicking away at the computer, and when she sees me, her expression is a mixture of surprise and pity.
“Oh, hey Marlin.” She stands. “Darcy is doing rounds, and Emma has the day off. But you can wait here or in the lounge for Darcy to finish.”
I stare at her for a second. “It’s okay. I’m just here to see Sebastian.” Like I am every day, you freak. I give her a tight smile.
“But… he checked out this morning. He’s gone.”
I feel the room start to spin. I reach out for the wall and steady myself. “He already left? When?”
She eyes the clock behind her. “Like thirty minutes ago. He had all of his stuff. The cleaning staff is in there right now. I’m sorry. I thought someone told you.” Her voice sounds oddly delighted, and I want to punch her for being so smug. Without answering her, I make my way down the hall to his room. “He’s not in there!” Cecelia yells after me, but I ignore her, quickening my pace.
As I suspected, two women in uniforms are in Sebastian’s room, vacuuming, dusting, and wiping down the surfaces with disinfectant. Cecelia was right—everything is gone. Sorrow fills me, and my heart sinks into my stomach. I look around one more time before muttering apologies to the cleaning ladies. Just as I’m about to leave, a note in the trash can catches my eye, and my heartbeat quickens because I recognize Sebastian’s scratchy handwriting. I pluck it from the bin and walk out into the hallway.
You and I are different. Shine on and goodbye, mi amor.
It’s not addressed to me, but I know in an instant that it’s meant for me. Panic begins to fill me up, starting in my stomach and spreading to my limbs. Just like I know the note is for me, I also know he might be about to do something stupid.
How could I? Why didn’t I just let him make love to me? I hurt him, and now he’s out there somewhere, suicidal, and I might not get to him in time. I drop the note on the floor and sprint down the hall to the lobby.
I have to get to him.
I have to get to him.
“Where does he live?” I demand, my voice a little too loud. Cecelia balks at me.
“We cannot divulge personal information,” she states matter-of-factly. She smiles—actually smiles.
I groan. “Could you stop being a jealous bitch for one second? This is a matter of life or death. I think Sebastian is going to attempt suicide again.”
Her superior face contorts into horror. “Did he tell you that?” she hisses.
“No, but I just have a feeling. Something… happened last night.” I sigh and put my face in my hands. “I need to know where he lives.”
She clicks her pen and studies me hesitantly. “What happened last night?”
I snap. “Oh my god! Just give me the fucking address! I don’t have time to gossip. Not like we’d ever gossip, but nevertheless, I need to know where he went. Did his parents come pick him up?”
“Nope,” she says, her face smooth and composed. “I don’t really know how he got home. He left before Darcy got here. Broke her heart.”
I wince. “Of course he did.” I stand up straight—I have an idea. Without thinking, I hop up onto the desk and slide down to the other side. Cecelia stares at me with revulsion.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She stands and follows me to the filing cabinets.
“Saving a life,” I mutter, pulling out the ‘R’ drawer.
“He’s not Rivera anymore. He’s Juares,” she says, her voice quiet. “Well, when the papers come in, at least.” I look up at her, and she shrugs exasperatedly. “If anyone asks, I wasn’t here when you broke in.” She throws her hands up and walks to the bathroom, shaking her head.
I’ve got to remember to thank her.
I pull the ‘J’ file out, and in twenty seconds, I have his address memorized. As I walk out of the office, I type the destination into my phone and jog to my car—661 Quarry Road, right across the river from the West Dummerston covered bridge.
The bridge.
I accelerate and get onto W River Road, and in six miles, I’m pulling onto Quarry Road and searching for his house. It’s not hard to find—it’s pretty rural around here, and when I pull into the driveway, a quaint brick house meets my eyes. It’s tucked back into the forest, and a Jeep sits in the driveway.
The same fucking Jeep as in my dream.
How is that possible? How did my mind concoct that one fact? Actually, if I’m asking questions, how is it possible that I knew things, true things, about Sebastian? The Jeep, the town, the inclinations… Am I psychic? Or was my dream really just some sort of alternate universe? Our brains are capable of more than we can comprehend. I suppose it’s possible my brain grabbed hold of some parallel universe, one that actually exists, and gave me a glimpse into it. The fact that dream Marlin and Sebastian are out there somewhere, pregnant, married, and happy gives me all the motivation I need to find Sebastian. This is our real life, and as fucked up as it may seem, I’m so grateful I got a glimpse of what could be.
I jump out of my car and run to the front door. The morning is cool and misty—unlike the rest of the week, and the damp fog in the air gives the place an eerie feeling.
“Sebastian!” I cry out, banging on the door—the red door with a brass knocker—just like in my dream. “Open up! It’s me!” I try the handle, but it’s locked. I walk to the front window and peer inside. Boxes are lined up against the wall. The place doesn’t look lived in. In fact, a month’s worth of mail is piled up on the other side of the door. If he opened the door, there would be a path.
He hasn’t been here.
“Shit,” I say, under my breath. I run back to my car and turn it off. I grab the keys and my phone. I type ‘West Dummerston covered bridge’ into my GPS. It’s 0.2 miles away, a four-minute walk. He’s there. He has to be there. I tuck my phone in my jeans pocket and begin running down Quarry Road towards the bridge.
I’m grateful I’ve kept my body in shape, because I get to the bridge in record time. I’m slightly sweaty despite the cool weather. The bridge is a typical covered bridge—wooden roof, wooden walls, single lane… and the West River beneath it.
I walk into the tunnel and emerge on the other side, looking all around.
That’s when my heart shatters into a million pieces, because sitting on the top of the bridge is Sebastian.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
PRESENT
“Oh my god, Sebastian!” I scream, waving my arms to get his attention. “Are you kidding me?” He’s sitting on one of the sides of the roof, his legs bent in front of him. He notices me, and his face gives nothing away.
“Go away,” he yells, signaling for me to leave.
“You don’t have to do this,” I yell, sobbing. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”
I see him sigh, and then he stands.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Without thinking, I scale the railing of the bridge, and after a few failed attempts at pulling myself up, I scan the side of the bridge for places to put my feet to hoist myself up.
“How did he get up here?” I mumble to myself, eyeing the sides of the bridge. It’s impossi
ble. I don’t see a way up, unless of course he had a ladder. I walk to the other side, watching his figure carefully in case he decides to jump before I can get to him. “If you jump, I’ll jump too,” I threaten, and I see him cock his head at me. He didn’t hear me. “IF YOU JUMP, I’LL JUMP TOO!” I scream. He just nods and turns around, walking in the other direction.
Shit.
I jog to the other side, yet again, and this time I detect small rungs on one of the rain pipes. I climb up to the railing and grip the thin pole, praying the rungs hold my weight. One step at a time…
I look down, and my vision begins to swirl. Fuck, I’m up really high. If I fall, I’ll fall onto the rocky cliff of the riverbed. I’m screwed. I swallow and continue up until my elbows are grazing the tarpaper roof. I can pull myself up from here. When I do, I stay crouched down, because one wrong move will send me sliding down and into the river. And I’m not the one who wants to die today.
“This is really fucking stupid,” I say to no one in particular. “I don’t even know how you got up here. You’re on crutches, for Christ’s sake.” I look for Sebastian, but he must be sitting on the other side. I crawl slowly, staying as close to the roof as possible. I don’t look down, because if I do, I might lose my balance from the vertigo. When I get to the pointy top, I swing my legs over. To my relief, he’s sitting a few yards away from me. “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I say, tears filling my eyes.
He just watches me, his face impartial. Finally, he speaks. “Why the fuck did you climb up here? It’s dangerous.” He stands and begins to walk away, his movements steady and confident. “I told you to leave me alone.”
I look down, which is something I really should not have done, and I begin to whimper. My whole body begins to shake, and my legs feel wobbly and uneven. Adrenaline is rushing through my veins, and I know I’m too unstable to continue crawling all over the roof. I begin to sob, and I know there’s only one thing I can say to get Sebastian to stay.
“I love you!” I yell, and he stops walking. He turns slowly. I really want him to sit the hell down so that he doesn’t trip and fall. “Please sit down. You’re about to give me a heart attack.” My voice breaks, and I lose it. The waterworks begin, and snot begins to drip out of my nose. “I love you,” I repeat. “I’ve loved you for three months.” I cry into the sleeve of my sweater, my body heaving with sobs.
“But I’ve only known you for a couple of weeks,” he says, his voice interested. I see him take a step towards me.
“Sit the fuck down!” I yell, gesturing to the roof. He begins to walk towards me and sits about three feet away, keeping his distance but close enough so that I don’t have to yell.
“Why are you here, Marlin?” He runs his hand through his hair and looks at me, his eyebrows scrunched together.
“I went to the retreat, but you were gone. I panicked. Can you blame me?” I throw my arms out. “Jesus, Sebastian.”
“Explain how you’ve loved me for three months.” It’s not a question, but a statement. His voice is skeptical.
I sigh and take a deep breath, wiping the tears off of my cheeks. “Do you remember my dream? The one I had in the hospital?” He nods, his eyes watching me with uncertainty. “Well… you were in the dream. It was you—same name, same town, same car…”
“My Jeep?” he asks, his voice quiet.
“Yeah. And in this dream, we were engaged, and I was eight weeks pregnant. We were living in this shitty apartment with this ugly brown carpet, and Jeb was renovating this amazing Victorian house for us.” I dare to meet his eyes, and both eyebrows are at the top of his head. Oh my god, I sound crazy. I continue nevertheless. “Anyways, you were a teacher at Brattleboro Union High School. I worked at Graton Village Cheese, and you drove me to work every day… and we were happy. We were so happy.” I whisper the last sentence, and fresh tears fall down onto my face.
He opens his mouth to say something, but then he decides against it. This happens three times. His eyebrows are furrowed, and when he speaks, his voice is uneven.
“So, in this dream, we were together? Engaged?”
“Yeah. We met in Florence. It was crazy… I dreamt an entire Facebook profile. I went through over a thousand pictures. My brain conjured that. That’s the only explanation I can come up with.”
“Okay,” he says, studying my face. “So when you woke up, you remembered?”
I nod. “I remembered everything. That’s why I applied to be a volunteer—I needed a reason to move here.”
“For me,” he clarifies, his tone tentative.
“Well, I didn’t know you’d be a patient. I tried looking you up, but since you were Sebastian Rivera, not Juares, like in my dream, I couldn’t find you. In fact, I wasn’t even sure you were real. But then I met Emma, and shortly after, you. I couldn’t believe it.”
He shakes his head. “You sound like a psycho.”
My head dips, and I compose myself. “In my dream, I drank Fanta. You sang that Sam Smith song to me in the car. Our house had a red door with a brass knocker. I played Ave Maria on the piano.” My voice sounds desperate now, but he has to believe me. “Your mom gave us this beautiful vintage wooden crib for the baby.”
His head swings around. “Baby.” He looks away, obviously freaked out. I totally freaked him out. He’s right—I do sound like a psycho stalker.
“I know this sounds crazy. Trust me, I wonder about it All. The. Time.” He doesn’t say anything, and I watch his face, trying to gauge his reaction. “That’s part of the reason I helped you with your bucket-list shit. I mean, I probably would’ve helped you regardless.” I look over at him. “I wanted to save you, because you saved me,” I whisper, biting my lip.
His eyes begin to water at that, and he hangs his head. “But I didn’t save you, Marlin. I was here, dealing with my own shit. I had nothing to do with your dream.”
“Did you know we both attempted suicide on the same day? Within minutes of each other, actually.” He watches me with wet eyes. I wasn’t planning on telling him that, but the date and time stamp in his file threw me for a loop. I’d seen it when I was looking up his address. “I feel like this all happened for a reason.”
“Is that why you got the ‘Fate’ tattoo?” he asks, his voice breaking.
“Yes, but also no. I’m not stupid. I know you’re not the same Sebastian as my dream. I’m not the same Marlin. I was different. We both were. But that dream saved my life. It gave me hope when I thought I’d never feel hopeful again. It gave me a sense of purpose. I knew I wanted to help people, and finding the retreat, in the exact same city as my dream, was just the icing on the cake.”
“But you loved the guy in your dream. Do you love me?”
I stare at his caramel-colored face, so stricken with grief. He’s come so far, but he still has such a long way to go.
“I love this Sebastian so much more, because he’s just like me. We met in my dream, sure, but when I met you in real life, it affirmed everything for me. We have the same hiding places—the same dark parts. I see these things in you, because I recognize them in myself. I see the sorrow behind your smile. I see the love behind your anger. I see the reason behind your silence. And I know we have a long way to go, but I want to go there with you.”
He sobs into his shoulder, and it cuts me up in places I didn’t even know I had. I scoot closer, carefully, and I put my arm around him.
“I didn’t have a dream,” he starts, wiping his face. “But you always gave me hope. When we met at the river, and you looked at me for the first time… I got this feeling of… homesickness. I couldn’t explain it at the time, and even though you were a stranger to me, something about you captivated me, like I was finally coming home.”
“You were coming home,” I cry, bawling into his shoulder. “Your soul knew about us.”
“My soul must be pretty amazing, then,” he says, his voice shaky.
I’m quiet for a minute. “We can have that. Everything in my dream.” I
look up at him and smile. “It won’t be exactly the same, but the love will be there, and that’s all that matters.” He’s quiet, his face forming a scowl. “That is, unless you commit suicide.”
“I didn’t come up here to kill myself, Marlin,” he says, smiling. “You jumped to conclusions, flailing your arms around, climbing the damn roof… I just came here to think.”
“But isn’t this where…”
“Yes. It is where I tried to kill myself three months ago. But I can say for certain that I’m a different person now. I don’t feel the same desire to end my life. In fact, for the first time ever, I’m kind of excited to live.” He pulls me into him, squeezing me tight. I let out a huge sigh of relief.
“I was so scared when you weren’t at the retreat. And the note… I thought it was a suicide note. ‘You and I are different.’ What the hell was that?”
He shrugs and chuckles. “I just wanted you to move on… You deserve someone who isn’t fucked up like me.”
“You are pretty fucked up,” I agree. “But so am I.”
“That’s true.” He unlatches his arm from my shoulder and stands. “Now, shall we climb down from this death trap?” he asks, holding his hand out.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Thirty
THREE months later
Fidgeting with my new bracelet, I lean forward and scan the restaurant for Sebastian from where I’m sitting. He’s late, which normally wouldn’t bother me, but since I haven’t seen him in three months, I’m overly eager to assess his wellbeing. Reading his letters is one thing, but I need to see him in person to assuage my worry. I know he hasn’t forgotten—each of his letters came with a countdown. Eighty-seven days, seventy-five days, fifty-one days, eighteen days, five days… and now today is here.
After the bridge three months ago, we agreed it would be for the best if we took some time apart. He needed time to get his feet back on the ground, and I wanted to give him space, away from me, to heal. That day was the last time I saw him, but we’ve written to each other every day. He was staying with his parents for a while, outside of Brattleboro, but recently moved back to his house.
The Realm of You: A Novel Page 20
