“We did it together,” my father said from behind me. “I drew and you painted.” He swallowed, and I could hear the hurt in his voice because I didn’t remember.
I spun, shaking my head like I was a crazy person. “No,” I murmured, tears clouding my vision as I stared at him, hurt and anguish twisting his features. “No, I don’t.”
“Shh,” my mother whispered, wrapping her arms around me and hugging me tightly. “We can paint the walls if you like.”
“No,” I murmured again, shaking out of her grip as I took a couple steps away from her toward the bed. It was positioned so the sunlight would land right on the pillow. I sat on it anyway. It was harder than the mattress at Mercer & Mercer had been, reminding me of the bunks back in the Dioscuri city of Lot.
“Honey, it’s okay,” my mother said, still looking at me like she didn’t actually think it was “okay.”
“It’s not okay,” I said, shaking my head as my vision blurred and tears spilled down my cheeks. “I lost years of my life, years with you because I was trapped in a made up fantasy world.”
“Oh, Lillim,” my mother said, scooping me up in her arms like I was still a little kid. “Don’t worry about that now. I’m just happy you’re back with us.”
“And here I am reduced to chopped liver again,” my father said, spinning on his heel and moving to the door. “I’ll go get some paint. What color would you like your room to be?”
Chapter 3
It felt like I’d been home for only a few minutes, but somehow, I was going back to school to complete the last quarter of my senior year. Amazingly, I’d managed to keep up with some schoolwork while inside the mental hospital, which made no sense since I didn’t remember doing any of it. In fact, the only thing I remembered about any sort of high school experience was facing down a giant cyclops before homeroom. Evidently, that hadn’t been real.
Still, the doctors had signed off on the whole going back to school thing. In fact, they’d insisted it would be good for me to get back into the swing of things. I stared up at the ceiling of my pink room and let out a slow breath as the fan above me spun in a slow lazy arc. I barely remembered painting the room or picking the color. There were just vague glimpses of memory surrounding the event: My dad and I walking around a hardware store. Covering everything with plastic. Him attacking me with a paintbrush. The disjointed painting session that followed.
It was all rattling around in my brain like a bad movie montage. Just thinking about it was like watching a slideshow played in fast forward. Still, we must have done it because it’d been weeks, and the room had gotten itself painted the day after I’d come home.
My room didn’t even smell like paint anymore. Instead, the smell of rose potpourri drifted into my nostrils from a little object plugged into the outlet by my too small, too hard little bed. It was weird at first because I hadn’t known it was there. The smell of wild roses had just filled the room. Embarrassingly, I had whirled, looking for the Keeper or some other sign of fairy, only to come face to face with the tiny scent-spewing device.
I rolled over on my stomach and stared at it. I sniffed. Roses. I was so crazy it was, well, crazy. I needed to get a new scent. Maybe pine trees or lemons? Lemons seemed good. Pine trees might remind me of werewolves.
To say I was trying wasn’t exactly true. I existed in a weird state where I wasn’t quite sure if my world was real or not. Sometimes it definitely felt like I was the only stable object within the world, and my reality just wasn’t orienting itself properly, but then there would be little things, like the rose-scented potpourri. It was just enough for me to look over at it and wonder if I made up the Keeper of the Wild Hunt.
Still, if I was planning on making someone believe they were insane, this is exactly what I’d do. I’d plant little details here and there to make it seem like the person had latched onto a tiny kernel of truth and spun it into delusions of grandeur like Rumpelstiltskin spinning straw into gold. Except that’s also exactly what a crazy person would tell herself.
There was a knock at my door. Not loud enough to startle me even though it did anyway. I sat up quickly as the knob turned slowly, my cheeks flushed and embarrassed even though I didn’t know why. It wasn’t like I’d been doing something I wasn’t supposed to do.
“Lillim?” my mother asked from the other side. The door was barely cracked open like she didn’t want to disturb me. I still wasn’t used to her walking on eggshells around me. Whether or not my memories of her in the Dioscuri were real, they were all I had. The Diana Cortez of my memory was more of a kick in the door and pull me out of my bed by my ankles kind of woman. She did not peek in on her daughter, fearing the worst.
“Yeah, Mom?” I asked, getting to my feet and padded across the gray carpet toward the door in my pink socks.
She pushed the door open wide enough for me to see her entire body in profile though one of her hands was out of view. She looked tired despite the smile painted onto her face. I wondered how she had slept. Probably not well judging by the dark purple bags under her eyes. Her hair was a little more disheveled than usual, but that may have been because she was about out of medical leave time. As soon as I started back at school, she’d be back at work. Evidently, staying home to babysit your insane daughter didn’t pay the bills. Who knew?
“I was wondering how you were feeling,” she asked, coming into the room. “Are you excited to go back to school?”
“I guess.” I shrugged, not quite sure what she was doing as she smiled at me. It wasn’t that I was unused to her checking up on me, but well, that’s exactly what it was. In the world of the Dioscuri, my mother had been about as comforting as a rabid hyena. Here, she was actually trying to bond with me in a way I’d only read about in books. It was actually kind of disconcerting since I didn’t know how to react.
She smiled at me, taking my hands in hers and squeezing. I swallowed, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes as I looked away from her and tried not to cry. She must have taken my reaction to her sudden show of affection as a need for comfort about the school thing because the next thing she said was, “If you don’t want to go back just yet, we can figure out a way to make it work.”
“No,” I shook my head, taking a deep breath and forcing myself to look at her. She was still smiling. Before I could say anything else, she pulled me in close for a hug. As her arms wrapped protectively around me, sobs began to escape out of my lips.
“What’s wrong, honey?” she whispered, voice strangely comforting. “You can tell me. I’ll do my best to help, no matter what it is.”
“Nothing,” I sobbed into her shoulder, barely resisting the urge to run away. This was everything I’d always wanted. I could admit that to myself but never to her, and not just because this might all be some kind of weird delusion. How would she feel if I told her my problem was that I wanted her to be loving and caring when she was everything I ever wanted? It made me feel guilty beyond measure, partially for disappointing this version of my mother, but mostly? Mostly, it made me feel like the worst person alive for wanting my Dioscuri mother to have been this way. And she was dead and gone.
How was that for cherishing her memory? I was a horrible person, and what was worse? Because I was so damned broken, I couldn’t even react to this version of my mother being nice to me like a normal person.
“It seems like something,” she whispered, brushing my hair out of my face. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
“I don’t,” I said, sniffing as I looked into her brown eyes and smiled. “I just missed you is all.”
“I missed you too.” She stared at me for a long time before smiling at me. “If I had my way, we’d spend more time together, but you need to go back to school.” As she finished the words, she clasped my right hand in hers and began leading me toward the doorway to my room. Had she just thought I’d overreacted because I was going to school and wouldn’t be around her for a few hours a day? If it was, I didn’t have the hear
t to tell her differently.
Besides, what would I say? No, the real reason I missed you is because in the world of the Dioscuri, you’re dead and gone? Because in that world, you were more slave driving taskmaster than mother? No, I couldn’t say that. But I could sure as hell feel it.
“I’m sure school will be fine,” I whispered, and as I said the words, she glanced back at me.
“Are you sure?” she asked, face unduly concerned. It almost seemed like she had an ulterior motive, but what?
“Yes,” I responded, trying to figure out what she was up to. Nothing good, surely.
“Well, that’s good.” She bit her lip, obviously mewling over some kind of thought. “You have someone here to see you.” She spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable so I wouldn’t miss anything. “One of your friends.”
“Oh?” I asked, somewhat taken aback. Was that why she had come to see me? It made sense, but it was still a little strange. Almost everyone I remembered had been in the mental hospital. I couldn’t even think of someone else. The thought made me cold inside. It was why I’d avoided seeing people because as fun as it was awkward as hell to see people I couldn’t remember meeting. Sorry, I shouldn’t cuss, but it was. See, these people acted like they knew me, regaled me with stories about some tricycle accident where I’d careened into the tree in their front lawn or picked all the unripened peaches off their tree.
Only, only I didn’t remember any of it. So I’d nod and laugh, pretending I recalled the memories until it got so awkward I’d try to excuse myself, at which point, my mother would declare she was tired, and we had errands or some other made up thing to do. I’d be whisked home in a heartbeat. Sometimes, we’d stop for ice cream or a cookie, usually at a place I didn’t remember that was supposed to be my favorite.
It was starting to get so I was terrified of doing anything that reminded her of my past. I was ready to move forward with my life. I just wished I knew what that meant. For all I knew, I could be unconscious, my body lying motionless in the medical bay back home. Maybe I had a brain slug. Then again, those were pretty gross and slimy. I’d like to think I’d notice if one was slurping up my brain juices.
“Yeah, Charlie came by. He wants to see you.” She smiled, and it was a fragile thing reminding me of the awkward fluttering flaps of a baby bird leaving its nest for the first time. “It’ll be good for you to get out on a Sunday afternoon.”
“Charlie?” I asked, not sure who she was talking about. The only Charlie I had known had been back in the Dioscuri. He’d been an annoying dweeb who breathed on the back of my neck in class, and well, someone who had wound up saving my life. I wasn’t even quite sure what happened to him. Some friend I was.
“He was our neighbor before you…” she trailed off for a second and bit her lip. “His family moved, but they’re still in town. He’d like to see you. Would that be okay?”
“Sure,” I replied, somewhat curious. Maybe this wasn’t the same Charlie. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, if it was the Charlie I remembered, that would be just another nail in the coffin of my sanity, but if it wasn’t, well, I didn’t know if I was ready to fake having a childhood friend.
My mom brightened like I’d turned on the sun. It made my heart thump in my chest. I wasn’t used to making my mother proud. Who knew all you had to do was be insane for a few years before coming out of your delusions. If I’d known it was that easy, I’d have done it years ago.
“Great!” she said, beckoning for me to follow her into the main room. “I’ll bring you two some cookies and lemonade.”
“Alright,” I said, glancing down at my stomach. If she kept feeding me like this, I was going to turn into Augustus Gloop. Maybe I could go for a run? I had gym clothes and running shoes in my closet. Then again, I hated working out, and well, sweating. I avoided sweat like the plague. Perhaps I could diet? Nothing I ate ever really tasted as good as thin felt, you know, except my mom’s homemade cookies. They made me think being thin could go jump off a cliff.
She must have caught me looking at my stomach because the next thing she said was, “You’re still stick thin, Lillim. I don’t know what they were feeding you, but it’s time to put some meat on your bones.”
Easy for her to say. I was two sizes larger than my supermodel-sized mother. It sort of sucked because, even if this was a fantasy world, she had some really cute outfits, and I couldn’t even pull them past my thighs. Well, I could, but I liked retaining the ability to breathe. Even still, I sometimes thought it might be worth the tradeoff.
We were standing in the living room although I didn’t remember stepping out of my room. Maybe I’d just been paying too much attention to the inch of flab covering my formerly flat stomach. I shook the thought out of my head before I could have a full on melt down. Instead, I ran a hand through my black hair, finger combing it as my mother walked toward the door and opened it.
Her body blocked the person on the other side of the door from view so all I saw was sunlight streaming into the room, framing her in such a way that she seemed dark and foreboding. She spoke to the person in low, hushed tones I couldn’t hear. Probably warning him I was a delicate porcelain doll who would shatter at the slightest provocation.
I took a step closer, and as I did so, she whirled, pulling the door open and revealing Charlie Daniels. He had chiseled features and muscles, actual muscles, straining his black t-shirt. He was taller than I remembered him being. He pushed the blond flop of hair out of his eyes and took a step inside, holding out a cellophane wrapped bouquet of summer flowers, all bright pink and yellow. The plastic wrapping crinkled in his grip as he stared at me, mouth slightly agape.
“I… um… brought you some flowers, Lil,’” he said, his face twisting into an awkward half-smile. His cheeks reddened as I made no movement to take them.
“Thanks,” I murmured, glancing from the flowers to my mom and back again like an overly excited bobble-head. When she made no movement to save me, I stepped forward and tried to take them from him. Our fingers touched, and I swear to everything holy, electricity zipped off his skin and through my brain, instantly turning me into a muttering idiot.
“I remembered you liked the yellow ones,” he added, reaching out with his other hand to pull me into a hug. Alarm filled me as he crushed my body against his own.
“They’re very nice,” I whispered, extricating myself and handing the flowers to my mother. She smiled at me and took them.
“I’ll just go put these in water,” she replied before vanishing into another room and leaving me alone with Charlie. Not cool.
Okay. Okay. I could deal with this. He was just a boy. I was Lillim Callina after all. What was a boy?
Charlie was staring at me when I turned back to him. He smiled, revealing a mouthful of perfectly white teeth and a dimple on his cheek. “Are you ready?” he asked and his magnificent blond eyebrows arched up and down a couple times.
“What?” I replied, my heart hammering in my chest. “Ready for what? What are you planning?” I took a tentative step back, about to bolt into the kitchen where my mom could save me. But from what? Why was I so frightened? That didn’t make sense. He was just a boy. Granted, he was incredibly handsome and had featured in some of my fairy tale adventures, but he was still just a boy, right?
I took a deep breath and straightened my back, throwing steel into my spine as he eyed me, his smile growing strained for a split second. He shook his head.
“Your mom asked me to come get you and show you around the school beforehand.” He shrugged, evidently mistaking the look I must have given him with the need for more explanation. “I know, it’s lame, but my mom made me promise. Still, she gave me money for lunch afterward. Let’s just do this, and we can go spend the money on pizza? What do you say?”
“Or we could not go…” I replied, not sure if I was ready for this. Even though it’d been several days, I’d always had my mother or father within shouting distance. This
would be different. This would be out on my own. What if something happened, and they weren’t there? What if I needed them? What if I woke up and my mom was back to being dead?
I swallowed and shook my head. No, I couldn’t risk it. Too much could go wrong. What if something attacked us, and I couldn’t defend myself because I’d lost my magic?
“We have to go,” Charlie said, stepping past me as my mom appeared from the kitchen sans cookies and lemonade. Had she been waiting just out of sight? Had she lied about the cookies? That was just plain not fair.
“I don’t want to go,” I stated, my voice flat and empty as I spoke. “You can’t make me.” It was then I realized my hands were balled into fists so tight, my knuckles were white with the strain of it. I noticed because Charlie’s eyes swept down, and he took a quick step back, raising his hands in supplication.
“Um, okay?” he said, looking past me to my mom. I whirled just in time to see her reach out and put her hand on my shoulder.
“This will be good for you, Lillim. Can you just try? For me?” The look in her eyes made my heart want to shatter into a million pieces. It wasn’t fair.
“Fine,” I huffed, looking at my white tennis shoes and sighing. She kissed me on the forehead before wrapping me in a hug.
“I’m proud of you, Lillim,” she said, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting beside Charlie in his black BMW. It wasn’t new, maybe five years old, but it was still a BMW and in nearly perfect condition. Charlie evidently took good care of it.
I tried to think back, to remember what happened after she hugged me, but the space between seemed strangely blank. Had I just forgotten it?
Mind Games: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Lillim Callina Chronicles Book 6) Page 2
