Wish
Page 3
“I love you dearly, Kayla,” the old man responds. “Because of this, and only this, I will give you one final chance.”
“Thank you, Father,” I blurt out in relief.
“But at sunrise, if you haven't succeeded then you will disappear. You will be sent far away, banished to the heart of a distant star. You will never be summoned again.”
“If I don’t succeed, then I don’t care if you send me away. I won’t deserve to be here.”
After looking at me for a moment, Father fishes into his pocket to pull out a trinket. It seems to be some sort of ornate timepiece which he hands to me. “Here is a golden compass to help you find Kieran. You seem to have developed a connection with the boy. I doubt that Nathan or anyone else can do anything to help him now. It’s going to be a hard one. You have a very slim chance of success.”
“I won’t disappoint you, Father,” I promise as I close my fingers around the compass.
“It doesn’t matter what I feel anymore,” he says sadly. “You and I will never meet again.” With those words, the man disappears. An empty space is left on the bench where he sat a few seconds before.
Chapter 5: At Thurston Bridge
I have spent an hour following the compass, and it has taken me back across the campus of the university. My feet are growing sore from the rough ground, but I have to keep moving. I occasionally stop to grow upset with myself for being so clueless and making such an oversight, but I quickly gather my wits and press on.
Finally, I come upon a car which is parked crookedly on the side of the road. As I approach, I confirm that it’s Kieran’s vehicle; the same one that bulldozed me over like a battering ram not too long ago. I shudder at the memory, but I quicken my pace and head for the car. He is not inside.
“Kieran!” I shout, looking around with worry. I glance down at the compass and see that the needle is trembling as it points east. I move in that direction until I come to a sign that says Thurston Avenue Bridge. I hate bridges. I really, really do. Walking toward the giant structure, I see a figure standing in the center. He seems to be holding some kind of large scissor-like tool.
“Kieran?” I call out again as I approach, placing the compass in my purse. “What are you doing?”
He pauses when he hears my voice, and awkwardly tries to hide the utensil behind his back. “Kayla. How did you find me?”
“I just got lucky,” I answer. “What is that you’re holding?”
“Nothing,” he says with embarrassment. “I just… maybe you should go.”
“I came looking for you,” I tell him. “We need to talk.”
“You’re just a figment of my imagination,” he accuses me suddenly. “You’re not real.”
I stammer in surprise at this. “W—What?”
“Let me see your leg,” he demands.
Stepping back nervously I try to conceal myself from view. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” I assure him.
“Then let me see it!” he says louder.
Reluctantly, I reach down to lift my dress away from my leg, revealing perfect flesh that looks like it had never even been bruised. There is not even a paper cut on my calf.
“I knew it,” he said sharply. “It doesn’t make sense that you could just walk away from something like that. There should have been blood in my car—I thought there was, but it disappeared. Then I checked the front of my car and there was no blood there either; no sign of impact. I must have imagined it all. I know that I’m losing my mind, so just leave me alone.”
“You aren’t losing your mind,” I tell him gently. “You’re just a normal person. I’m not—I was sent here to help you.”
“Sure you were,” he says sarcastically. He lifts the large metal tool he is holding to display it to me. “They recently put this chain link fence up to prevent people from committing suicide by jumping off the bridge. But you know what they failed to consider? Wire cutters.”
I watch as he gets to work with cutting away at the wires on the side of the bridge. I can see from his aggressive motions that he has given this careful forethought and he is very determined to follow through with his decision. “You didn’t tell me you were this upset earlier,” I say softly. “Kieran—why wouldn’t you be honest with me about the way you were feeling? I was sent to help you but I couldn’t because you were pretending there was nothing wrong.”
He turns to me skeptically. “The truth? I didn’t want to scare you away. Once we got to talking I just felt the need to make a good impression. I didn’t want you to know that I was really depressed. Talking about it seems to freak people out.”
“Kieran, there’s nothing you can say that would possibly freak me out. I’ve heard it all. This is my job.”
“Really? What is your job exactly?” he asks, cutting the wires fiercely and turning to me with an appraising look.
“I save people’s lives,” I tell him. “At least I’m supposed to. It doesn’t always work.”
“So what are you, some sort of angel?” he asks. “Are you my fairy godmother?”
“No, but similar,” I say with a smile. Walking toward him, I remove the jacket he gave me from my shoulders and I reach out to place it around his. I notice for the first time that he is dressed up as though he came from a special event. He must have been at that party earlier in the evening. “Your mind isn’t playing tricks on you. I am here, and I am real. So please take a moment to talk to me.”
He stares at me for a moment. “If you’re not an angel, what are you?”
“Why does everything need a label?” I asked. It was not permitted for me to share any details of my origin.
“Because I’m looking for a miracle. It would be nice if you could just say that you were sent by some divine being and that you knew for sure that everything was going to be okay.”
“I do know,” I told him, “and I was sent by something divine.”
His brown eyes seem suspicious. “You know, Kayla, I’m a university student. Or, I was. The professors make it very clear that we’re not to accept anything as true unless it comes from a trustworthy source. I need to see your credentials before we have this discussion. And I need to see your references and works cited when you say that everything is going to be okay, or else I’m jumping off this bridge in a few minutes.”
“You don’t have to be so difficult,” I say with great patience, trying to conceal my exasperation and anxiety. “I can show you all of that and more. Just put down the wire cutters and step away from the bridge.”
“Did God send you?” he asked bitterly, as he ignores me and continues to hack at the wires. “Does he think a beautiful woman will be more convincing than an ugly one?”
I narrow my eyes at this. “Kieran, I’m sure that my beauty is not intended to be convincing. Distracting, maybe, but not convincing. So will you allow me to try to distract you long enough for you to reconsider?”
He pauses in his wire-slashing to smile at this, and he stares into the abyss below. A piece of the chain link fence falls into the gorge and he watches it until it is no longer visible. We both listen for a sound, but it is too far away to hear it crashing against the rocks. “A distraction, huh? Fine. You have five minutes. But first you have to tell me what you are.”
“I’m not allowed to.”
“Then I’m jumping.”
“Fine, fine.” I throw my hands up in defeat. “I guess you could consider me a… supernatural social worker. An agent of above.”
“Those sound like euphemisms to me. They’re unclear and they tell me nothing. I want to know everything.”
I hesitate, looking around as though Father might be watching. Then I remember that it doesn’t matter anymore; I might as well be straightforward. I do feel a strange sort of respect for Kieran and he deserves my honesty. “The truth is that I am a star and this body is my human vessel.” I flinch, expecting him to laugh or accuse me of lying. Instead, he puts down the wire cutters.
“See? Was that so difficult?” he te
ases me. He sits abruptly down on the bridge, with his back against the railing. “So what did you want to tell me?”
“I…” Moving over to the bridge, I lower myself to sit beside him. I have never done this before; I have never had this conversation when I had previous interaction with the person. They are usually complete strangers. But then, is he not a stranger? Why does he feel so familiar? My insides are all unsettled and rattled. “I want to listen, Kieran. I want to know why you decided to do this.”
“Where should I begin?” he jokes, resting his arm casually on his knee. Although he tries to appear composed and calm, I can now see that behind his eyes he is hurting. I am not sure how I did not see it before.
“One reason,” I tell him, “just give me one good reason to justify this.”
“I don’t know if I really feel comfortable telling you about my personal life,” he says softly.
“You nearly killed me with your car. I figure that’s the least you owe me.”
“I didn’t even leave a scratch on you,” he argues. “In fact, you should have told me right then and there that you couldn’t be killed so I wouldn’t have been so worried.”
“But I can be killed. I heal quickly, but I can’t be revived from death. I thought that was the end,” I admit. “It was not pleasant.”
“I’m sorry,” he tells me, rubbing his forehead. “See? There’s one good reason. I am in such a messed up state of mind that I am a danger to innocent people. I nearly killed you because I was crying and upset that my girlfriend dumped me. Who dumps someone on Christmas Eve?”
“Would you like to talk about that? Is this mainly about Madison?” I ask.
“Of course not!” he snaps. “Sure, Madison was important to me. She was the only person I had—that’s why it hurts so much. My father has basically abandoned me. My sister hates me. My mother died when I was very young. It’s all my fault—I broke apart my family. I am the black sheep, the dark shadow in all of their lives. The truth is that everyone I know, and everyone I have ever met—everyone I ever will meet is better off not knowing me. I only bring sorrow to people.”
“That’s not true,” I tell him, reaching out to clasp his hand and squeeze it. He did the same to mine earlier, and I feel like this is a suitable moment. He returns the pressure.
“I regret to say that it is true. I’m the one who’s lived my life every day for eighteen years, and I know what a mess it is.”
“I can show you that you’re wrong; I can give you hard evidence. More than just my word that I am glad to have met you and you will bring me no sorrow. You will bring only good things into my life.”
He seems interested in this. “Are you just saying this to influence me? Do we really have some sort of connection or am I just—some sort of special case? A client?”
“If I was sent to save you, then you are special. You are precious and important to the world—and beyond that, yes, to me particularly.” I blush a little as I say this last bit.
“You can’t just say something like that, Kayla. You hardly know me. If you did know me, you would understand what a disaster I am. How I ruin everything I touch.”
His fingers are sliding toward the wire cutters again, and I can see that I am losing him. I grasp his fingers and look at him with horror. “Please don’t do this,” I whisper.
“I need to go. I wish I had never been born.”
My face softens a little. I know these words well—they have been uttered time and time again by thousands of despairing individuals for as long as there has been despair. I feel a certain sense of comfort now that I am in my element. “Kieran. I can work with that. Let me show you what I know. Let me show you what things would have been like if you hadn’t been born.”
He looks at me in surprise. “You can do that?”
“Of course,” I say with a smile. “All I need is a little stardust.” I reach into my purse and pull out a small satchel. I untie the string, and shake a bit of shimmery powder into the palm of my hand.
“Stardust?” he repeats, gazing at the substance. He seems to be able to tell from the unearthly quality of the material that it is dangerous. The air vibrates with the energy of the powder.
Kieran shakes his head cautiously. “I don’t do drugs.”
I giggle a little at his analogy. “We are all stardust,” I tell him. “This is just the stuff you’re made of. Come on, try it with me—it will give you some perspective.”
He seems worried for a moment, but then he nods with determination. “I trust you, Kayla. Besides, what have I got to lose?”
“Excellent. To the past,” I say with a smile, “if you had not been born.” Almost as though I am blowing a kiss, I purse my lips and release a gust of breath to waft the stardust from the palm of my hand into his face. The particles slowly settle into his eyes, and he also inhales them. I see his pupils dilate almost immediately with the impending wisdom of our journey. It affects me too—I feel suddenly infused with all the knowledge necessary for my task. I’m in control now. I’m ready and capable.
And off we go.
Chapter 6: To the Past
“Whoa. What is this place?” Kieran asks, swiveling to look around.
We are standing at the center of a maze of hedges, and scenes from various seasons are flashing around us. The hedges are naked of leaves and covered in snow one moment, and fully green and lush only a second later. It’s rather breathtaking to watch the world transform so rapidly.
“We are in time,” I answer.
Kieran’s hand darts out to touch my back. “This is insane,” he tells me in a low voice as he surveys our surroundings. “Are we safe here?”
“Of course. I know my way around, so just stay close to me,” I tell him. Father always said that we must be certain of the outcome of our every action long before we act, but I have always been notoriously indecisive. It’s a fatal quality in my line of work—but when it comes to stardust, I have a keen intuition. This is my strength; I understand the flow of time.
I begin walking quickly and leading Kieran down one of the passages through the maze. He follows me with complete trust, only inches behind me. I feel that if I were to suddenly stop walking, he would crash into my back. A small smile comes to my lips as I consider doing this just to tease him, but I remember that there is serious business at hand. When we reach a crossroads, I turn left without hesitation. Before long, we come upon a fountain.
“That’s beautiful,” Kieran says softly.
It is. The fountain is in the shape of a woman emptying water from a jug; she is endlessly pouring into the pool below. “We need to step into the water,” I tell him.
He nods with surprise, but he moves to stand beside me. “What is going to happen?”
“We will see what you need most to see—but we will not be seen.”
“That’s cryptic,” he says, taking a deep breath. “Well, together?”
I smile at him. “Yes. Three, two, one…”
We both step forward into the water, and as soon as our ankles are submerged, a dizzying gust of wind sweeps around us, temporarily blinding us as it transports us to a small room. When our vision clears, we can see that we are now standing in a well-lit nursery. Our feet and ankles are dry as though we had never stepped into water. Half of the room is pale pink, while the other half is cobalt blue. There is a woman with short brown hair standing on a ladder with her back to us. She is dragging her paintbrush across the wall in slow, purposeful strokes.
“I know this place,” Kieran says in confusion. “I recognize the room. It looks different but… Mom?”
The woman does not turn around, but continues to paint. She pauses to wipe her forehead and sigh. “Mom, is that you?” Kieran whispers. The woman still does not respond, but the sound of small footsteps in the hallway cause her to turn her head slightly.
“Mommy!” shouts a little girl, running directly through Kieran’s body to stand at the foot of the ladder. “When’s Daddy coming home?”
“Oh my god,” Kieran says, reaching down to touch his body. He understands for the first time that he is no longer corporeal. “They can’t see or hear me. What’s going on here?”
“This is the moment where your wish comes true,” I tell him softly.
“Mommy, why do you have to paint it blue?” the little girl asks with dismay. She tugs on her mother’s dress in frustration to get her attention.
The woman turns around slowly, looking down at the little girl with infinite patience. Now that we can see her full profile, it is evident that she is pregnant. Her stomach is not gigantic, but against her slender form, the bump is noticeable. “We painted it pink for you, darling, but soon you’re going to have a new baby brother. He won’t like pink as much as you do.”
“Why not? It’s a pretty color.”
The woman smiles. “Maybe. But your dad really wants the nursery to be blue. It’s my fault, really. We should have gone with something neutral to begin with like green or yellow.”
“I like it the way it was before. Why don’t you wait until my brother gets here and ask him?” the little girl argues.
“Chloe?” Kieran asks softly. Of course, the little girl cannot hear him. He turns to me with confusion written all over his face. “I think that’s my sister. She’s six years older than me.”
I nod at this information. “Seems about right. She looks like she’s around five right now.”
“That means that I’m…” Kieran lifts his hand to gesture to his mother who is still standing on the ladder, holding her stomach with one hand and the paintbrush with the other. She is laughing and telling her daughter to return to playing so that she can finish painting.