Buried in Sunshine

by Matthew Fish

  *

  “It’s not much,” Justine says as she opens the door to her apartment. “It is home though.”

  Emma looks around in enchantment at all the colors. The walls are painted a pale green; the sofa and matching seat are a combination of sea-foam with bamboo colored lines. From the windows, different colored panes of glass are hung by wire from the ceiling. The glass panels cast magnificent reds, yellows and blues against the walls. Sea shells and clear crystals and gemstones line wooden shelves. Wooden wind chimes hang above a row of different varieties of violets outside on the deck.

  “It’s an amazing view,” Emma says as she looks to the empty beach and the deep blue lake beyond. In the distance she can make out the pier that she first met Hope. She begins to wonder where hope is now.

  “That’s why I love it,” Justine says as she looks out and sighs contently. “It’s like an ocean, living here. I mean—I can’t tell the difference.”

  “This is my bedroom,” Justine says as she leads Emma to a small room with a twin sized bed adorned with a dark blue blanket with fireflies printed upon its surface. The walls here are white, but so much art hangs from the walls that the white wall is only visible in the small cracks that exist between the paintings. A TV sits in the corner on a nightstand and a bamboo curtain with different colored beads tied to the slats rests against the room’s single window.

  “I love the paintings in here,” Emma says as she gazes upon the large expanse of artwork that surrounds her.

  “These are the ones I can’t seem to part with and sell in the store,” Justine says as she nods. “Although I am running out of room…”

  Justine then leads Emma to a nearby room. A large table is folded to the side and pieces of glass and wire are stored in drawers. An air mattress rests upon the ground in the small room. “This is where you’ll be sleeping—unless you want my room. I realize it’s pretty small and kind of cramped. This is usually my workshop.”

  “This will be more than fine,” Emma protests. “It is enough that you’re willing to let me stay.”

  “Willing?” Justine asks with a laugh. I’m happy to have company.”

  “This is the last part of the tour,” Justine says as she shows Emma the bathroom. The walls are painted different shades of blue and mimic the lake view outside. White waves mixed in with glitter line the walls like crashing waves against the shore. A grouping of glass bulbs hang from brown nets in the corner. “Just a bathroom, I’ve kind of tried to spruce it up a bit—other than that just a shower and a toilet.”

  “Did you paint this?”

  “The walls…? Yeah, I did this a long time ago,” Justine says as she runs her hand against the wall.

  “It’s beautiful,” Emma says as she lets out a short laugh. “It is by far the most beautiful bathroom I’ve seen.”

  “Thank you,” Justine says as she smiles and runs her hands through her brown hair and ties it into a band behind her head.

  “So you’re artist and do jewelry—“

  “I dabble in a bit of everything, well I used to do more—these days I keep to art,” Justine says as she kicks off her sandals and walks barefoot to the couch. “I used to dance, ballet, not professionally or anything—I haven’t done that in a good while. I play guitar occasionally, and…I write. Also, not professionally, I’ve finished a few novels but, they’re just sitting on my laptop.”

  “That is impressive,” Emma says with a hint of jealousy in her voice as she sits in the seat next to the couch. “I’m not good at anything.”

  “Everyone’s good at something,” Justine says as she shakes her head. “They just haven’t found out what it is yet.”

  “Oh trust me,” Emma says as she laughs. As she begins to say that she never has possessed any talent at all she has a brief flashback to being at the local college—she used to be a graphic design major. It seems like a memory from another life. “I… used to want to design websites, like the layout of things. I guess, I kind of gave up on that dream though when life kind of got messed up.”

  “I gave up on everything,” Justine says as she nods and looks around the room uncomfortably. “I gave up on life not too long ago—so I know how it feels. I’m sure that given enough time that you’ll pick it back up again, and if not—I’m sure you’ll find something you enjoy to replace it.”

  “Why did you give up on everything…on life?” Emma asks and then instantly feels regretful for doing so—it seems like too much of a personal question to ask. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. I sometimes…yeah—sometimes I just blurt out questions or say thing without thinking them out fully.”

  “No…” Justine says as she stops Emma from continuing to feel bad for asking. “The short of it is, I went to a party with my boyfriend and two of his friends. We were all drinking, and I drank a little too much and got sick. I went to throw up and when I returned to the campfire they had doused the flame out. My boyfriend stripped me and he and his friends took turns raping me—when I tried to resist they beat me.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Emma says as she lets out a short gasp. “It is amazing that you are doing so well now.”

  “Well, I went through a very strange experience,” Justine says as she nods. “A very dark experience—it took a lot of help and a lot of time. I still have my bad days, but life is better. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t haunted by what happened, but I continue to move on—how about you? What’s your story?”

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” Emma says as she places a fist against her chin and bites the bottom of her lip. “I guess it started when my boyfriend was struck by a car and killed, I attempted to commit suicide by hanging myself in my bathroom—but the bar snapped and I just ended up falling to the ground. My mom found me and finally got me help. I spent about three years believing that I was someone else—that it was my sister who killed herself successfully and that I survived on.”

  “So you actually lived life as someone else?”

  “Yes,” Emma says with a nod. “In that time my mother died, and I was in therapy to help with my severe anxiety issues in the hopes that I would remember.”

  “What caused you to remember?”

  “I fell down and hit my head in the bathroom,” Emma says, she is now in territory that she has left out from her sessions with Dr. Riley. “When I woke up my ‘sister’ was there and she forced me back into my old room. Once I was in there I realized who I really was and a large part of my anxiety and depression disappeared—that was…about four days ago. Since then I’ve discovered that my mother was having an affair with a man who eventually killed my father, and attempted to kill me—and that my father was not even my real father, just some man my mother married so that she would not have to live poor.”

  “That is a lot to take in,” Justine says as she folds her thin legs and raps her fingers against her knee. “Are you angry at your mother?”

  “I think so,” Emma says as she gives it a moment. “I mean… she was just trying to give me a good life—but her actions, along with the man who tried to cut my wrist, ended up causing someone’s death. I cannot convince myself that my mother did not know what Brian Metcalfe had done to my stepfather—I wish I knew for sure if she had a part in it. Either way I know that she helped keep it a secret. So I think for that I kind of hate her. It erases the sadness I felt when she died, not completely. I just can’t see my mother same way I did when I think about her.”

  “I’d imagine that would be very difficult,” Justine adds. “I don’t talk to my parents anymore. They didn’t even do anything wrong. I just could not bring myself to tell them what had happened to me. In a way I’ve grown to hate them—and they didn’t even do anything wrong. I just can’t face them anymore.”

  “That must be terrible,” Emma says as she lets out a sigh. “I don’t even know what I would do in your position. I’d imagine though that since they haven’t done anything wrong you’d be able to reconnect with them at some
point, right?”

  “I think so,” Justine says. “I think I’m just angry at myself and that it carries over to them.”

  “You shouldn’t be angry at yourself, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I know,” Justine says as she taps her fingertips against her bare knee once more in a silent rhythm. “But, it’s hard to un-convince yourself of something you’ve managed to believe.”

  “I know that all too well,” Emma says as she pauses and places her head in her hands. As she emerges moments later, she decides to lay it out there—“Can I tell you something, without you thinking that I’m completely bat-shit crazy.”

  “Of course Emma,” Justine says as she nods. “We’re friends, right?”

  “I would definitely like that,” Emma says as she takes in heavy breathe of air and exhales. “That night, when I remembered everything—I was warned that I only had seven days left before the sun would come for me.”

  “Come for you how?”

  “Like, come down to the Earth, and basically—take me? Burn me away, I suppose. When I woke up the next day, there was this clone of myself—she said that the sun had sent her there to prepare me, that I needed to be whole before its arrival, that I needed to face it, but…there was no way of stopping it. I’ve seen these other versions of myself around different places, they’ve led me to the truth about my mother and her affair—they led me to this underground tunnel that kept appearing in my nightmares.”

  “And they…” Justine begins, and then pauses. She rubs the side of her narrow face as though she attempting to come up with some kind of response. “Are they really there? I mean… I believe you.”

  “You believe me?”

  “I went through a rough time as well,” Justine says as she nods. “There are things about my recovery that I can’t explain. “…that day that you came to the shop and you asked if I saw you with someone?”

  “I was talking to a young version of myself on the pier,” Emma admits as she feels relieved that Justine does not think she is completely mad.

  “So they’re helping you work out your issues and revealing the truth about your past?”

  “Yes…however, there is also that end of the world in seven days…three days from now actually. I would not believe this part of the whole situation—but the weather seems to be kind of…cooperating.”

  “Did you know, perhaps, of the weather beforehand and your mind may have slipped it into this whole equation?”

  “My mother feigned a life of simplicity—she didn’t keep a television or anything too modern more than a microwave in the house. I destroyed all of my stuff, laptop, mp3 player, and most of my stuff in general when I kind of lost it—I would have had no way of knowing,” Emma says as she thinks back. She does not recall ever caring enough to check the newspaper—she cannot figure out where she could have picked up the information. “I had no way of knowing, that is what scares me.”

  Justine jumps to her feet and heads towards the window. She begins to pace back and forth with her fingertips against her chin. “This time of year…there are usually a hundred people out there on the beach at this time of day.”

  Emma gets up from her chair and looks to the empty beach. Not a single soul is in sight. The sky is a cloudless cerulean blue, the lake is calm—if it weren’t for the oppressive heat, it would be the perfect day to be out. “I keep telling myself it’s just a coincidence.”

  “It’s a hell of a coincidence,” Justine says as she looks blankly to the open water.

  As Emma’s eyes wander to the pier, she spots a short girl sitting at the edge. “Hope!” Emma announces, catching Justine off guard.

  “What?”

  “I’ll be right back,” Emma says as she points off to the pier. “One of my...well, one of me—is out there.”

  “I’ll come,” Justine says as he places a hand upon Emma’s shoulder.

  “I should go alone,” Emma says as she nods with a short smile. “You can’t see her, can you?”

  “I can’t…” Justine says as she nods once. “Just be careful—I’ll be watching from up here. Don’t stay out in the heat too long. Remember, you’re still on the mend.”

  “I will,” Emma says as she heads out the door and turns to Justine. “Thanks.”

  As Emma exits the apartment door her feet hit the hot sand. The searing air fills her lungs and instantly makes her feel dizzy. She begins a slow jog towards the pier. By the time she reaches the edge, she is covered in sweat. As she attempts to fan herself with her hand she begins to realize just how terrible the weather has turned.

  “Hope…” Emma exhaustedly says as she reaches the short blonde girl dressed in white.

  The girl continues to sit; she does not even turn her head to face Emma. “Why did you send Elizabeth away?”

  “I didn’t,” Emma objects as she sits down next to her younger self. “She disappeared.”

  “She left,” Hope says as wipes away a tear from her eye.

  “I did not know that you even knew her,” Emma says as she feels guilty. “I didn’t mean to, I just let my anger get the better of me. I want her back. I miss her.”

  “Of course I knew her,” Hope says with an offended tone in her usually soft voice. “We’re all connected. You shouldn’t have become like her.”

  “Like who?”

  “You know,” Hope says as she looks off into the water. “When you act like her—she gets stronger.”

  “What do I need to do?”

  “You need to be strong,” Hope says as she looks up to the bright sun and allows it to dry the tears that stain her cheeks. “You need to realize that you are strong. If you don’t—she’ll only get stronger and we’ll become weak.”

  Emma begins to feel dizzy from all of the heat. “I have to go now—“

  “I know,” Hope says as she nods. “You have to try though, or I’ll disappear too.”

  “I promise I won’t let that happen.”

  Emma gets to her feet as an overwhelming sickness overcomes her. She wheels forward and uncontrollably collapses into the deep blue water. She panics as she has attempts to swim upward and back up to the surface. It feels as though something is pulling her down. Perhaps she is too weak. Just as her vision is starting to fade, a ripple of displaced water is seen above her. She feels herself being pulled back up and onto the pier.

  “Emma…” Justine says as she hoists her up and lifts her completely onto the pier.

  “I’m okay…”

  Justine places Emma’s arm around her shoulder and begins to carry her back to the apartment. “We need to get you back inside.”

  *

  Emma awakens on an unfamiliar bed. She has a cool washcloth upon her head. Her clothes have been changed to a long white and yellow sundress. Justine sits by the bed; she smiles as Emma regains consciousness.

  “You really scared me there,” Justine says as she hands Emma a cold bottle of water. “Drink…”

  “I’m sorry,” Emma says as she takes the bottle and drinks half of it and then places it on the nightstand next to her.

  “Sorry about the dress, I know it’s a little obnoxious with the giant yellow hibiscus flowers—but it’s all I had that would fit you.”

  “Its fine,” Emma says as she attempts to get up. “Thank you for coming for me—I would have drowned otherwise.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” Justine says as she nods and places the back of her hand against Emma’s forehead. “Did you at least find anything out?”

  “I think I have an idea,” Emma says as she attempts to figure out what she is exactly supposed to do. “I’m not sure though. One of the versions of me is—it’s stronger than the others. Stronger than I am, I think. I have to level the field, although… I don’t know how.”

  “Perhaps we should contact Julie,” Justine says as she attempts to come up with a helpful suggestion. “She can help in some way, yeah?”

  “I don’t think so,” Emma says as she shakes her he
ad. “I don’t think she’d understand.”

  “Well, how can I help?”

  “I need to get something from my house,” Emma says as she begins to formulate an idea.

  “Do you feel well enough to drive?” Justine asks as she slips into her sandals.

  “I think so,” Emma says as she shrugs away the dizzy feelings in her head.

  “Where are your keys?” Justine asks.

  “Purse,” Emma answers as she slowly gets up to her feet. She is still a little bit dizzy—but she knows that she has to do something. She cannot let Alexis get too powerful. She does not know, or understand, why it matters. She just feels that she cannot let Hope down. She already feels incredibly guilty for her part in the death of Ethan’s parents. She does not want to become any more like Alexis.

  “I’ll start the car and get the air going,” Justine says as she pulls Emma’s keys from her purse and heads out. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Alright,” Emma says as she sits back down on the bed for a moment to regain her bearings. “I’m strong too…” Emma whispers, although she does not feel it. She does not exactly understand what Hopes wants her to do—she felt strong when she was confronting Brian Metcalfe, but that felt wrong. That felt strong in the same way that Alexis looked strong when she forced Brian to write his own suicide not and slit his own wrist.

  “Do you need help?” Justine asks as she returns from the parking lot.

  “I can manage,” Emma says as she gets to her feet once more. The dizziness is gone and she feels much more stable. “Thank you again.”

  “I didn’t have any other plans, what with the world ending heat—“

  “Let’s hope that’s just…me being crazy.”

  “I just want to help you find what you need to,” Justine says as she gestures towards the door. “Let’s go find what you need.”

  Emma and Justine rush through the scorching parking lot and enter the sanctuary of the cool car. Even with the air conditioning on high the car seems to be struggling to keep it from being too terribly hot.