We Awaken

by Calista Lynne

  The atmosphere was absolutely buoyant and the seniors might have just floated away if they got any giddier. That would be us in a year’s time.

  Ellie cheerily waved to a good chunk of the school’s population, and you could see the different nuances in each greeting depending on the image she maintained with that group of people. It was an impressive, if subtle, feat. By the time we reached her car, she had shouted to so many students to have a “fantastic fucking summer” that it was shocking she hadn’t gone hoarse.

  I slouched into the passenger’s seat as she took the driver’s position, grinning.

  “Let’s go get ice cream or something. It’s our last day in that hellhole for two months, and we gotta celebrate.”

  “I haven’t got any money.” The truth. “And I’m not too keen on ice cream anymore.” A lie.

  She reached over me to grab sunglasses out of the glove compartment.

  “No worries, I’ll cover you. I’m not sure what ice cream ever did to you, but we can get fries instead. Let’s go.”

  Ellie donned the glasses with a grin that showed she definitely realized how cool she looked before rocketing out of the parking lot as fast as one could go without drawing the attention of any security guards.

  We both stared out the front windshield, and before the silence could become oppressive she started playing a CD. She sang along loudly with some song from the sixties called “Green Tambourine.” Her words were definitely incorrect. When it finally ended, the song began again without giving me any break.

  “Are there any other songs on this disc?” I asked, confused.

  “Nah. It’s not even mine, really. It was Kevin’s, that guy I dated back in October so I could buy those cute Halloween costumes. The sort for couples. He was obsessed with this song and made a CD of nothing but the damn thing on repeat. Been too lazy to take it out, so now I’m an expert on the intricacies of a song, which honestly sounds like the result of an acid trip. My every dream come true.”

  It was like a pro wrestling match. In one corner: awkward silence and small talk with someone who used to know every detail of your life. In the other: a god-awful song that generates headaches like it was being paid to. Which one was more painful? I opted to stick with the headaches, so it played on as an old road carried us in the opposite direction of my house and toward McDonald’s.

  “I’m gonna try and bring us through the drive-thru. Let’s see how badly I fuck it up.”

  She swung the wheel around dramatically and ended up a bit too far from where we ordered, but that could be dealt with by shouting loudly into the voice box. When she pulled around again we ended up even farther away from the building than before. The zombie-like employee seemed almost on the verge of being amused when Ellie was forced to climb out of the car and walk up to the window to take the food. She hopped back in after giving a wave to those in line behind us, carrying bags that bulged with greasy fries.

  “This is why we should all be like you and avoid driving. I don’t know what I did to pass my test, but someone out there is regretting it now.” She was smiling, but that began to melt away when she glanced at me.

  My mind had jumped back to Reeves and Dad.

  Shards of metal and rivers of gas. Hospital beds and freshly dug graves.

  Why the hell was I in a car if that’s what killed my family? The air in them always seemed several sizes too small for my lungs.

  Ellie looked at me, panicked. She didn’t seem as oxygen deprived as it felt in this damn car.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. That was a really insensitive thing to say. Shouldn’t have brought that up, the whole driving thing. You okay?”

  I just nodded and faked a smile as she handed over the food and began driving away. I rolled down the window halfway and rested my head against it.

  “Yeah I’m fine.”

  That response was delayed, and I don’t think she bought it. The somewhat jovial mood was gone. She acted just as upbeat as before, though, and soon said, “Fry me,” opening her mouth and leaning toward me with eyes still on the road. Getting the message, I pried my hands off her car door and shoved four fries between her teeth. I ate mine quietly beside her, and we listened to “Green Tambourine” yet again and after this time, simultaneously the fourth hearing of it that day and in my whole life, she clicked it off.

  “Okay, I dished out one of my infamous idiotic ex stories about the CD. Please tell me you’ve managed to get a few for yourself recently. Any chance you’ve found a girlfriend and have just been really good at hiding it from me?” Her tone was eager, if not a bit exasperated.

  Having her knowledgeable of my sexuality should have been a blessing, but I almost wished she was as clueless as the rest of the school. I never even came out of the closet. She more or less dragged me and had refused to keep quiet about it since. The thought of being in a relationship wasn’t distasteful; I just didn’t feel ready. My excuse was always that I was waiting until after high school, but she didn’t buy that and was constantly trying to push me into the arms of lesbians or even men that, in her words, were “feminine enough that I shouldn’t mind too much.” Instead of going off on her for pressuring me or breaking the news that I wasn’t even sure of my sexuality, I told a variation of the truth.

  “Sorry to disappoint. If I had a girlfriend, you’d be the first to know.”

  She turned to glare at me over the top of her sunglasses.

  “You’re going to be the only person in college who has no idea how to make out with someone.”

  How does one go about telling her friend that she didn’t seem to have grown out of the kissing-is-icky phase we spent our whole youth in? People really enjoyed kissing—that was one fact of life—so obviously I believed I would enjoy it too one day, but I wasn’t in the mood to hurry it along. If movies had taught me one thing, it was that this could wait for college. I just shrugged at her statement and stared out the window, my thoughts scattering like dandelion fuzz but now rooted in Ashlinn. Remembering the accident reminded me of Reeves. That girl knew about the stories I had once told my brother. How was that possible?

  We were nearing my house. Thank God. Ellie was wonderful, but people change. I had witnessed this firsthand with her, but that fact was starting to become even more applicable to me. The Hovercraft pulled to the curb, and I said a quick good-bye before jumping out. As I walked away, she rolled down the window and shouted, “Hey, are you doing anything tonight? I’m having a bonfire with some friends later.”

  “Which ones, the honors society members or the stoners?”

  Her brilliant smile faltered but only for a blip in time. “Oh, none of them. Just some guys from my study hall.”

  The last time I had willingly spent free time with someone my age had happened over a year ago. All the excuses that sprang to the forefront of my mind were weak, so I just threw one that had worked in the past, well aware that she probably wouldn’t buy it.

  “Sorry, but I have to practice my dance.”

  At that her already weak smile turned sad. “Yeah, don’t you always? Catch you around, Victoria.” She pushed the sunglasses farther up on her nose, and I heard the beginnings of “Green Tambourine” through the window as she pulled away.

  The second I got in the house, I took the carnation from my bag and tucked it back behind my ear, then tossed the bag in the coat closet. That wouldn’t be needed for a whole season.

  Walking into the living room revealed Mother passed out asleep on the couch with her shoes (and the TV) still on. I tapped her on the shoulder, and she shuddered awake with panic seizing her body but then she settled drowsily after a second.

  “Oh God, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. What time is it?” she asked, rubbing her hands over her face and sitting up straighter on the couch. “Also, nice flower,” she added, squinting at my head, confused.

  “Thanks. It’s a quarter to three.” I pointed at the clock on the DVD player, and she shot off the couch.

  “I was going to go to t
he hospital before you came home! I think visiting hours are over soon.” She ran to her purse and rummaged around for the keys, then turned to me like a whirlwind and asked doubtfully, “Wanna come?”

  Instead of responding with the impulsive Absolutely Not and giving the same excuse I had just told Ellie, I stopped myself. It was impossible to think of Reeves passively. When he came to mind, there was no option but to devote all my energy to drowning in regret, so my fallback was to just ignore the whole thing, as awful as that sounds. After last night’s dream, though, it felt wrong. Even if he hadn’t sent me a message, my mind had decided that his existence needed to be addressed. Maybe seeing him was what I needed.

  Steeling myself, I told my mother I would join her, and her eyes widened, looking just as surprised as I felt.

  We drove in a familiar silence. I hadn’t visited Reeves since it became clear he wouldn’t be getting any better, and I remembered why as we pulled up outside the hospital. At the graveyard there was no hope, so there was nothing to lose and no chance for disappointment. Optimists could only be let down.

  Driving twice in a day was a bit extreme for me, so I just closed my eyes and mapped out dance moves, chewing my cheek the whole ride there.

  The gates and flowers outside seemed infinitely more foreboding than the ones I was used to seeing, but Mother was immune to them. She walked the sterile halls with intent, and it was obvious she knew her way through the twisting corridors just as well as I could navigate the churchyard. Where this was a walk she took often, I was not accustomed to the place. Beeping monitors and rolling carts were the only sounds of life.

  The walls were so white they were practically reflective, and as we neared the long-term-care unit I could feel my breathing pick up speed with every step. It was starting to seem ridiculous that a dream made me feel so compelled to look at my brother.

  As we neared the door to his room, I tried not to allow my steps to falter. Stoicism prevailed, and I walked on as if my brain wasn’t screaming at me to run in the other direction. We finally entered and saw him lying there. He looked different than I remembered, which shouldn’t have been so shocking considering I had only seen him in pictures for the past twelve months, but the thought was still a heartbreaking one. On those rare occasions I reflected on the past, I had always assumed his face was correct in my memory. If I couldn’t even get that right, who knows what I had butchered about his personality.

  Perhaps it was because of his calm visage. In every image I had of him, he was in action and smiling. Now he was emotionless with unwavering lips. He was nestled between white sheets on top of a white pillow, and they seemed to drain him of color he lacked to begin with. The hospital made it look like we were lost in a whiteout snowstorm, which was actually a pretty accurate description of how I felt. Everything was devoid of color from the walls to the nurses, and if he was ever to miraculously awaken, I feared he would think himself among the colorless clouds of heaven.

  Mother walked up to him as I remained motionless in the doorway. So much for stoicism. She put her thumb on his chin, then straightened the already pristine sheets, which had probably not been altered much since her last visit. There was a chair next to the bed (not white, I noted gratefully) and she dropped herself into it so violently it almost seemed like she was pushed. Her hand reached out and just lay on the bed as I took a tentative step toward Reeves.

  My shoes were thunderous against the floor, so I quickened my pace and closed the distance. I stood by his feet and felt the need to make certain there was heat coming off his skin and that he wasn’t just frozen in time. Not wanting to move Mother’s hand, I skittered around to the opposite side of the bed and gently took his pulse with two fingers to the neck, hoping it appeared to just be an affectionate touch. Satisfied with the feel of his heartbeat’s echo, I placed my hand on his forehead, then brought it around to his cheek. All evidence was pointing in the direction of him being the same as before. He’d have been so excited today, it being the last day of school and all, and he couldn’t even quirk a smile.

  Glancing over at Mother made it obvious she had gotten lost in her head; she was gazing up at the ceiling as if it held the answers to everything. While she stared at the tiles, I bent over and whispered in his ear, offering a thank-you for the carnation.

  We had been there only ten minutes when a sickeningly kind nurse came and told us visiting hours were over. Her smile was full of straight white teeth and pity I hadn’t earned. She flashed us those teeth while shooing us out of the room, taking my mother’s place at Reeves’s side.

  The ride home was as silent as the one there had been, but this time there was an air of unpleasantness. Mother was emotionally drained, and I felt just as haggard. When I stepped inside the house, the carnation fell from behind my ear to the floor and lost two petals. Leaving them on the floor, I picked it up and went upstairs, where I placed it on my bedside table permanently.

  The whole ordeal at the hospital probably had given me dark circles under my eyes. I never danced that night, making what I had told Ellie a lie, and I imagined what she’d be doing at the bonfire as I stared at my ceiling and willed sleep to come.

  Three

  WHEN I entered the dream, every memory of Ashlinn and our short meeting returned, but the clarity of those thoughts clashed with the haziness of the abstract world around me. It looked oddly familiar, but there seemed to be a block in my head preventing the memories from clicking into place. I was in a decrepit old theater with red velvet seats and gold filigree. The seats, upon closer inspection, were matted and full of small tears and God knew what else. Any paint was now chipped off the walls and reincarnated as a thick layer of dust on the floor. The stage was a void, just a pitch-black rectangle every aisle led to, and looking up revealed a lack of the usual necessary lighting equipment.

  Perched on one of the seats was a glimmering shadow and I recognized the cloak immediately. She didn’t even twitch when I ran right in front of her, much more quickly than I would have in reality—it was more like I wanted to be by her and then simply was—and asked sharply, “How the hell did you know those things about Reeves? He’s unconscious. I should know; I saw him today.”

  Up until this point she had been staring straight ahead, but now she glanced up and her eyes met mine. There was so much life in them. Too much.

  “He’ll be glad you visited. I’ll be sure to tell him. Right now I want to talk about you, though. It’s not every day I pay someone a repeat visit, lucky girl. Come along.”

  That was one way to talk around a question.

  She stood up, the seat folding back in on itself slowly, and then she squeezed past me where I stood half in the aisle, half in the row, and headed toward the stage. I followed unquestioningly, almost with a will that wasn’t my own. With a hop that wouldn’t have been feasible in the waking world, she was able to seat herself on the edge of the stage with legs dangling, and I followed suit because it felt like the proper, if not only, thing to do.

  This new perspective revealed how expansive the theater was, with a balcony and everything. I was surveying the room and absorbing the setting, trying desperately to remember how I knew of it. There were echoes of laughter when Ashlinn’s voice broke through my confused reverie.

  “You are not frightened.”

  She was correct. There was a dark emptiness behind us and the whole building was dipped in a surreal sort of creepiness. Now that I knew terror should be present, I expected it to begin encroaching any second, to float in among the giggles as it should, yet the placid serenity remained.

  “Why?” I asked with genuine curiosity.

  “I composed this for you out of a happy memory. You were not scared when you visited this place the first time, so there’s no reason for you to be frightened now. Do you know where you are?”

  “Yes. Well, no. It’s really irritating. I know I should remember, but it’s just not coming.”

  “In dreams one has selective memories of life outside
of them, same as how in reality you rarely recall dreams. Recent events, such as your visit with Reeves today, should still be lurking about, but oftentimes it’s harder to bring back the past. The last time you were here was before Reeves became a permanent resident in my realm. It might do you well to go back someday.”

  “If you’ve really been talking to Reeves, you should know what I’ve been dealing with. I’m not sure if visiting this place is really a priority.”

  Ashlinn’s demeanor switched in a flash to a charmingly embarrassed one. She spoke slowly.

  “Actually, I don’t know what happened to Reeves. I do two things. One is that I catch people who dream they are falling. If you get that tipsy feeling when you turn over in bed, I’m the one stopping it. My second ability is that I can sort through someone’s happy memories and hopes, then spin those into a dream. I doubt it’s a very happy memory, so I’ve never been able to see it in you, and he doesn’t know. Only Semira knows, and she refuses to spill the beans.”

  “Semira?”

  “Makes the nightmares, kind of like the antiversion of me, but she isn’t a bad woman. We’re getting off topic, though,” she continued in a tone of false reluctance. “Care to tell me what happened to Reeves? He’s pretty curious himself.”

  She had said earlier that old memories remained dormant in dreams, yet that one burned brightly at the forefront of my mind.

  “I thought this was supposed to be a good dream,” I mumbled, trying to delay.

  “I just make the cheerful settings and inhabit them. The decisions are up to you, dearie.”

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted the decisions. She was swinging her legs against the stage in large circles and occasionally brushing against mine, so I began mimicking her and our feet were like two cogs, spinning onward for eternity.