by M. W. Muse
I pawed through the rest of her drawers searching for something, anything, that might be a clue. When that proved fruitless, I turned to her nightstand, then her closet. After spending what felt like hours digging around, nothing stood out. As I was about to leave her room in defeat, I glanced at her bed, then lunged to the floor, coughing from the dust I'd stirred.
Underneath her bed was a wooden box. I slid under the bed, grabbed it with both hands, and yanked it toward me.
Jackpot!
But when I tried to lift the lid, it did not budge.
Okay, maybe this jackpot sucked.
I found a spot that seemed as if it were some kind of keyhole, so I jumped up and ran into Melissa's bathroom to grab a bobby pin. I figured I could try to pick the lock—it looked easy enough in the movies—but when I tried to unlock it, nothing happened.
Frustrated, I put the pin back in its place.
After walking back to the box, I stared at it, wondering how I could open it, but then considered the box might not be a jackpot at all. I started to realize I was being silly. I had to give Melissa some time. She would come around and answer my questions. Apparently, there was no rush; my mom wouldn't be here for another year.
I was just getting back to my senses when the phone rang. I ran to my room to answer it since it was the closest.
"Season?"
My lungs seized. I knew this voice better than my own, even though I had no right to. "Yes," I responded, trying to stay calm. Why was this guy calling me? It wasn't like it was my birthday or anything. Okay, I almost totally snorted at that thought since I'd just celebrated one.
"It's Don. I'm sorry to bother you so late, I . . . um . . ." His hesitation was unlike him. Not that I was used to talking to him, but when I did, he usually articulated himself fairly well.
"It's no problem. I was up taking care of some stuff around the house since Melissa is out."
"Oh, are you home alone?" He sounded concerned.
"Yeah, but it's okay. She'll be back tomorrow. She just had a short conference to attend."
"Are you sure? I could come over if you need me to." What? Was he for real?
"Oh, I'm fine, really. I was just about to go to bed anyway." It would take too long for me to make myself presentable. I reeked of sweat and was covered with dust bunnies from doing chores and crawling around on the floor like an idiot. Served me right for being nosey!
"I, er, wanted to ask you something," he continued. "All right."
"I, umm . . . ." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He was having difficulty with whatever he was going to ask, and that just made my heart race faster. I waited, not saying anything else, just waited eagerly while the blood raced in my veins just from the sound of his voice.
"I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me."
Shock took over my system. I couldn't believe my ears. Even after how he'd acted the day before, I still could not comprehend what he'd just asked me. Don, gorgeous, magnificent, Don had just asked me out. My brain did not make sense of these words as I thought them over. Then my heart pounded so loudly in my head that I was sure he could hear it on the other end of the phone. I knew I had to say something, but I was trying my best not to squeal as soon as I opened my mouth..
"I'd—I'd love to." I was only able to whisper to him because I did not trust my voice to stay even.
His sigh of relief thrilled me even more. He sighed! He wasn't just asking me out to be nice. He wanted to go out with me. Me!
"Good." And I could just picture the smile on his face. "I'm leaving tomorrow and will be out of town this week. My family's going to Florida to do the beach bum thing, but I'll be back Friday. Does Friday work for you?" He wanted to see me as soon as he got back!
"Friday's good."
"Okay, I'll call you Friday." "Have fun at the beach." "Thanks, I'll talk to you soon."
I hung up the phone and stared at it. I couldn't believe what just happened. I started to call Chloe, but I knew I needed to get myself together before I told her the news. She thought I would be screaming over Don just holding my hands. I had to prepare myself not to scream about him asking me out. Oh, because there'd definitely be hooting and hollering going on!
I made my way back to Melissa's room in a blissful fog. I examined the room to make sure it didn't look as if I'd been in there. I got down on my knees to push the box under the bed. When my hands grasped the bottom corners of the box, the corner pieces shoved inward and the lid popped up a few inches.
Why, when I had been resolved to let this go, was the box opening now? I stared at it as I lifted the lid open all the way.
Inside was a single piece of paper. I pulled it out as I stood up. I read over it in utter shock and disbelief. It slipped out of my numb hand and landed in the box.
I had never seen that piece of paper before, but I knew exactly what it was. I stepped back shaking my head, fighting the whirl of nausea that came over me. Then I froze completely. Unable to shake my head, unable to breathe, unable to understand. All I could do was stare at the box and the piece of paper that just changed everything.
For in that box was a death certificate. Mine.
My life—as I understood it before—was over. I continued to stare at the mysterious box that apparently represented my demise, but I couldn't understand what was going on I knew I was alive. Even though I was having difficulty breathing at this moment, the fact still remained that I was alive and breathing. I'd never been a good actor, but if I was dead, then I deserved an Oscar.
Maybe this had something to do with my mother leaving, and the death certificate was fabricated in an effort to deter any assailants. That made sense, I guessed. Now that I knew my mom had left when I was a baby and didn't actually die, it seemed plausible she would take the necessary precautions to ensure my safety in every way possible. Forging a death certificate could be such a precaution.
Something bothered me, though. If my mom was an important person—powerful, as Melissa had put it—then why did she have to leave in the first place? If she had to leave, she could have taken me with her. And how could a simple piece of paper provide the necessary protection for me to stay while she still had to leave? It had to be part of some bigger plan. A plan that I knew nothing of and would not find out from Melissa.
I bent over, picked up the paper again, and read over it, taking in all the details. The names and pertinent information were accurate, but when I got down to the cause of death, I frowned. That field was blank. I wondered why this field had been left blank when everything else seemed to be meticulously filled out. If this document was supposed to be passed off as an official death certificate, why was that field empty? It didn't make sense, but honestly, none of this did. I continued reading the document and froze when I saw the date of death. I had expected it to be some random date. A date that would've coincided with the timeframe of my mother's disappearance many years ago. But the date of death was not some past, random date. In fact, the date wasn't in the past at all. The date was the same as my birthday. My eighteenth birthday.
Chapter 4
My eyes grew wider as I fought back tears, not wanting to understand why this ominous piece of paper showed my eighteenth birthday. But reality hit me with a force so hard that I collapsed to my knees.
This death certificate hadn't been fabricated to protect me. It was telling me I was going to die on my eighteenth birthday. The only unknown element was how that was going to happen. Did my mom know about this? Was she now coming back to stop it from happening?
If Melissa knew about this, knew that I might die on my birthday, maybe she just didn't want to upset me by telling me. I needed answers, so I'd just have to figure out a way to approach her about everything without her knowing I was snooping in her room. I had to think logically, to look at this objectively. No one could predict the future.
I put the certificate in the box and pushed it in place before showering and going to bed. I huddled under the covers, tossing and
turning, and eventually fell into a slumber full of vivid dreams.
One dream felt more real than the others. I was standing at the edge of a forest on a dirt road. While peering into the dense forest, I turned in the opposite direction to stare at a field where the sky was black, and a tornado formed. I watched the tornado as it edged toward me. In the forest, I heard voices screaming for me to take cover. I started to walk into the woods but stopped when a black snake slithered out from the edge. I had an uneasy feeling, watching the snake come toward me and realized I would rather take my chances with the tornado than go into the woods. But when I didn't seek shelter in the trees, the voices stopped screaming and started speaking in a soothing tone, trying to lure me into the darkness of the woods. The snake continued to watch my hesitation, and when I didn't walk into the forest, it slithered lightning fast toward me. I turned and ran down the dirt road, turning onto another dirt road, and then another, looking over my shoulder frequently to watch the snake gaining on me.
The tornado changed course and headed right for me, too. On the last dirt road stood a tiny house. I ran for it, closing the door behind me, not wanting the snake or the tornado to find me. Even though the house was small and in the direct path of the tornado, I felt completely safe.
Once inside, I was shocked to see that I wasn't alone. Standing in the corner next to me was a little girl with long, blond, curly hair and blue eyes. She stared at me in horror. Suddenly, I felt like I needed to protect this girl as if she were my child. I'd never had a mothering instinct before, but this instinct felt natural, strong; I had no other choice but to protect this girl because my own life meant nothing. As I watched her, she walked to me with fear in her eyes, but a knowing smile graced her lips.
The screaming tornado was about to hit us. The girl moved one step closer, lifted her index finger, and touched the bridge of my nose, between my eyebrows.
"S-e-e-e-e-e-e," she whispered.
The moment the girl touched my forehead, I knew the answers to everything. Everything made sense. I was at peace with myself. As she released her finger, I fell back in slow motion. I collapsed onto the floor.
As I was about to hit the floor of the tiny shelter in my dream, my eyes opened.
I lay in bed looking at the ceiling fan not wanting to move, the feeling of peace still covered me, but the answers the dreamed contained eluded me.
The phone rang, and I reached over to answer it, staying in the bed. "Hey, Season. It's Laurel. Can I talk to Melissa?"
"She's not here. Had a conference to go to." "Oh, okay. Will you tell her I called?"
"Sure." Then I thought about that weird expression on Melissa's face when Laurel called and wondered if she knew something. Only one way to find out. "Hey, why did you call Melissa on my birthday?"
Silence. "Laurel?"
"I—I don't remember. I think we were just talking about me picking up some classes this summer, so I could graduate early. Oh, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, but you'd left." She seemed to be reaching for a response.
"Melissa looked worried when you called, and then she told me some stuff about my mom that night. I think maybe you know something. I don't think it was a coincidence."
"Season, I really have no idea." Laurel sounded stunned.
"Hmmm, okay. Maybe it was just a coincidence, then." Maybe I was losing my mind. Moms coming back to life, death certificates, and dreams about tornados, snakes, and a girl—I would need to get hold of myself and fast.
"Nothing ever is a coincidence," she said suddenly. "What does that mean?"
"Everything happens for a reason, Season."
Laurel was a flake, and this was apparently a dead end. "Okay, well, I'll tell Melissa that you called."
After I hung up the phone, I thought about Laurel and her parents. Since our parents were supposed to have died together, I wondered how much of what I knew was the truth and how much was some story made up for whatever reason. Laurel's parents and my parents were friends with Melissa. The story had been that both sets of parents had died in a car accident. Our parents had gone out to dinner in the city to celebrate a job promotion. It was storming that night, lightning flashing across the sky. It rained so much that it caused flash floods, and our parents drove right into a flooded street. Melissa was babysitting Laurel and me when it happened.
Laurel was older and remembered her parents, but I was too young to remember mine. The things I knew about my parents included generic details like my mom's wavy blond hair and my dad's frizzy black hair. I ended up with frizzy dark-blond hair, so I guessed I inherited traits from both. I also knew my parents were not the business types that Laurel's parents were. My mom was an artist and my dad was a musician. I figured their free spirits were where my silly name came from. But how much of what I knew was actually the truth?
Unable to put off my day any longer, I got out of bed and put on some shorts since it was hot in the house. Summer was here in full force. I had hoped we'd get a couple of weeks of pleasant weather before summer really started, but it was now sweltering. I tried to work on the paperwork for my new job but couldn't stay focused. I just kept wondering what would happen if I died in a year. Dead at eighteen. It didn't seem fair. My life would end before I had time to fall in love, go to college, get married, and have children.
What would I do differently if I knew I had only one more year left to live? I didn't know the answer to that. Not at first. But then I realized I would live my life to the fullest. Chloe told me once before that life was too short, carpe diem. With that thought, I knew I had my answer. I wasn't going to let Melissa's news about my mother
get me down. I needed to find answers without worrying about it anymore. I wanted to live each day like it was my last and enjoy whatever life handed me.
And what life was handing me right now was Don. I was thrilled about my date, and I was ready to shout it from the rooftops. I grabbed my keys and bolted. This was the kind of news I had to tell Chloe in person.
Chloe was already at the front door after opening the gate, so I ran right up to
her.
"Don called me last night!" I laughed, jumped up and down, clapping my hands, and squealed in delight.
She grabbed my arm, and we ran up the grand staircase to her bedroom.
We both sat on her bed and stared at each other with huge grins on our faces. I took a deep breath, calming the excitement I was now able to really feel for the first time since last night.
"So," she started with a smirk on her face, "what did he say?" "He asked me out!"
"No way! How did he ask you? What did you say?"
"He was a little nervous, I think, because he struggled with the question, and when I said yes, he seemed relieved!"
"Oh, Season, this is wonderful! I told you he liked you more than just a friend. I told you! After all these years of never asking a girl out from school, you're the one he asks out!"
"I know. I'm really excited. When I mentioned I was home alone, he even offered to come over last night and keep me company!"
"Shut. Up!"
"I know, right? I just can't believe this. Me! I know I'm not some skinny mini, but he's like God's gift!"
"Season, there's nothing wrong with your body. You have killer curves that I'd love to have. Besides, we practically wear the same size."
No we didn't. But Chloe tended to buy a lot of her clothes a little larger, then gave them to me with silly excuses about them looking better on me than her.
"He asked me out for this Friday, but he didn't say what we were going to do.
He'll call when he gets back from his vacation."
"He's not giving you much of a window to decide what to wear. You need to think about all the possibilities, so you'll have the perfect outfit ready when he calls with the details."
"Possibilities? Like what?"
"Like if he takes you to the movies, you'd wear something different than if he were to take you to the park. You need to be prepared for all con
tingencies."
She grabbed my hand and pulled me into her behemoth of a closet. She pulled out sundresses, nice dresses, and pants outfits and dressed me up like her toy doll.
"You know, if he takes you someplace really nice, you could wear your new red dress and shoes that you got for your birthday."
"That dress is too dressy. I don't think he'll take me somewhere that nice for a first date. He was pretty nervous, so I figured he'll start out taking me somewhere casual."
"Start out?" Chloe asked with a huge smile. "Do you think this is the beginning of a relationship?"
I tried to rein myself in. Even though I loved the idea of being involved with Don and I was trying to embrace my new lease on life, I didn't want to get my hopes up too much. I would live each day to the fullest, not make more out of it than what it was.
"I'm not sure, Chloe. Let's just enjoy this moment and see how Friday goes." "Good idea, but girl, how are you going to get through the next five days?" "It's going to be really hard," I admitted. "But at least I start my new job
tomorrow. Maybe I'll be too busy with work to freak out about my date. And speaking of work, I really need to go home and finish my paperwork for my new job. I started on it earlier but had too much on my mind," I said with a sigh.
Chloe sensed the change in my mood.
"Why? What else happened besides Don asking you out?"
I shook my head, searching for words. "It has to do with what Melissa told me the other night."
"What about it?" she asked with more concern in her tone.
"I told you she said my mom would come for me on my eighteenth birthday.
Well, I did some snooping around and found a death certificate. And, well, it was mine, Chloe."
"What do you mean it was yours?"
"I mean it had my name on it and everything. But that's not all. The date of death showed my next birthday."
