by Alana Siegel
“The pain is insufferable, isn’t it?” he asked, keeping his eyes straight ahead. I didn’t respond, but I turned to look at him. His hands clasped the steering wheel. He turned his head slowly, and looked into my eyes. I saw heartbreak reflected in his green irises.
“I know how it feels, Olivia. I’ve been in your position before. Only it was you breaking my heart,” he said. These were the first words that made it through to my consciousness since the afternoon. I should have been apologizing for inflicting pain, but I just looked back at him.
“You never loved me the way you love him,” he said. Fresh wounds were opened. I didn't know what he wanted me to say.
“I'm not asking for confirmation. I know it's true. I'm telling you this because I know how to cope with the hurt and the void,” he said, looking out his side window and wiping his cheeks.
“You move forward. You find happiness somewhere else. The pain doesn't go away, but it dulls over time,” he said. I began to sob again. We sat like that for a few minutes until he couldn't bear it any longer. Without looking at my face, he reached across me and unlatched my door.
* * * *
Chapter Eleven: Salt Lake City
The doorbell woke me up the next morning with its insistent ringing. I responded by burrowing deeper into the sheets that I had tossed and turned in all night. When I lay awake, the memory of my last afternoon with Justin came crashing back. When I managed to escape reality, my nightmares transformed the memory into an outlandish version where my heart broke over and over again.
I heard the door to my room swing open and felt the bed ripple when someone plopped down on one end. I groaned because the movement caused the pain in my head and my heart to spike.
“Get up, Liv. You need to pack!” Helen shouted at me. She was so enthusiastic that I had to fight hard to block her out and keep myself numb. The shrieking sound of hangers being pushed along the rack in my closet pierced my thoughts. I involuntarily opened one eye to see who was creating the horrible racket. Jaime was haphazardly selecting articles of clothing and throwing them into a bag.
Helen looked at Jaime and made an exasperated noise. “What are you doing, Jaime?!” She asked.
“We need to leave for the airport in forty-five minutes,” Jaime responded. Her voice sounded calm, but her eyes were wide as she took in the extent of my large wardrobe. Helen leaped off the bed and grabbed the clothing out of Jaime's hand. Jaime looked relieved and walked over to convince me to get up, a role she was better suited for than fashion decisions.
“Liv, I know you're hurting, but you need to get up. We're flying to Salt Lake City, Utah, today, and your mom already said you could come,” Jaime said in a soothing voice.
Helen turned around, narrowed her eyes, and said, “Jaime, don't coddle her! She's been moping around for long enough.”
I heard Jaime sigh. “Ok, if you say so. Sorry, Liv. You've been warned.” Before I had time to put two and two together, Jaime ripped the pillow out from under me and my head hit the mattress hard. I groaned, but the pillage didn't stop. She pulled my blanket off the bed. I crumpled into a ball in an attempt to protect myself from the cold air and the morning light.
Helen plunked down on the bed again. “Come on, Liv! We have to catch a plane!” She said, clearly unable to hide her excitement. I fought the stinging light and tried to register what they were saying.
“What's in Utah?” I asked. It was the first thing I had uttered in a long time, and my throat felt sore from hours of crying. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I didn't move from my curled position.
“My great Aunt Evelyn,” Jaime stated.
“Why am I going to see your great Aunt Evelyn?” I asked cautiously.
“We’re all going. She passed her Gifted jewelry to me, and we need to find out what she knows about the Gifted,” Jaime said, filling me in on the plans they must have made last night while I mentally checked out.
Helen walked around my bed and sat down so she was closer to my face. Softly, she said, “And we're taking you far away from here.” I knew what she meant; far away from Justin.
I took a deep breath. My friends were trying to help me. They thought I could escape the pain by leaving. They didn't realize the pain wouldn’t disappear and running away only meant facing it later on.
With no willpower to fight, they managed to collect my things and in less than an hours we were waiting in line for the security check at the airport. Max and Chelsea joined us along the way.
“Don't forget, if anyone asks, we are sticking with the story we told our parents. My aunt offered to let us sleep at her house when I told her that we wanted to see a concert in Salt Lake City for the new band we love,” Jaime whispered to us.
“No one is going to ask us because we won't be in touch with any friends or siblings while we are gone. It's too dangerous,” Helen said. “Do you understand, Max?” Helen asked, glaring at him to prove she meant business.
Max returned her glare, offended that he was singled out. “Who would I tell?” He asked.
“Max... You remember what happened last fall. If you tell your sister where we are, Prometheus will know we are far from the protection of our Meta agent!” Helen said, her angry voice rising above a whisper. Jaime shushed her, trying to calm her down.
One of our bags began blasting rock music. “Chelsea!” We could hear the high-pitched screech of Chelsea’s younger sister, Iris, as she opened the phone. “Chels, you left without saying goodbye!” Iris whined.
“Iris, I have to go away this week with my friends,” Chelsea explained.
“Can I come with you?” She asked in an angelic tone. Chelsea looked back at us. The features on her face looked hopeful and expectant. With unspoken authority, Jaime gave a curt shake of her head, and Chelsea looked panic-stricken. Lying, especially to her sister, wasn’t an easy task for Chelsea. She would have to let her sister down easily.
“Iris, I’m sorry, but you can’t come on this trip. You need to stay home with Mom and Dad.” We could hear Iris pleading. Chelsea wore the pain like a coat of armor. We knew firsthand that it was too dangerous to bring anyone non-Gifted into the mix. As much as it hurt to turn her sister away, she was protecting her.
Chelsea didn’t meet our eyes as she grabbed hold of her luggage and defiantly disappeared in a vanilla blur. Jaime clenched her jaw and checked the crowd of airport travelers for any sign that someone had noticed a young girl become invisible before their very eyes. Maybe it was too early in the morning to accept there was a high school student with super powers, but no one said a word, not even a gasp.
We gathered our belongings and walked to the security check point without her. The guard announced, “Please remove all shoes, belts, and jewelry.” Jaime caught my eye and took a deep breath before removing her bracelet. In the dull grey bin, the silver shined. Even the airport fluorescent lighting couldn't dim the brightness.
Max stood behind Jaime with his fingers balled into a fist. He glared at the obese woman behind the x-ray machine. She stared back until he released his grasp and dropped his ring into the bucket.
Then, it was my turn. I hadn't realized I was clasping my charm until I reached the bin. For the first time in twenty-four hours I felt something other than sadness. Fear. It wasn't the emotional direction I was hoping for. Removing the necklace felt like a surgical operation. Hearing the metal drop into the bin made me cringe. I practically ran through the body scan. The seconds without my charm dragged on. The machine spit out my necklace on the other side, and every muscle in my body relaxed. Having the chain back around my neck was pure relief.
We met Chelsea on the other side and the group was quiet on the way to the gate. On the plane I was tucked in the seat between Jaime and Helen. Always my protectors, they stood guard by my side. I was pretty sure they had worked out a secret code so that someone was watching me at all times. Did they think I would run away? Did they think I would break down? Did they think I would self combust?
&n
bsp; Yes, they did, and I didn't blame them. I wasn't eating. I wasn't sleeping. I was trying not to think. Everyone was worried about me. How did I become a depressed disaster over night?
Jaime and Helen got up to go to the bathroom as the seat belt sign disappeared. They whispered something out of my earshot and then hurried away. Right on cue, Chelsea appeared next to me. I guess it was her turn to keep an eye on the sick child they brought along.
I could feel her watching me as I stared at the navy and white thread that was cross-hatched on the chair in front of me. She was a firecracker. One wrong comment and she exploded on you. I wasn’t ready for her dose of hard truth with my wounds still bleeding. Who knew what type of mood she was in after the ordeal with her sister.
She was probably going to point out all of Justin's flaws. She might say all the things about him that Helen and Jaime bit their tongue before mentioning. I braced myself.
Finally she said, “What did you do to make him run?”
Run? I guess she was right. He had run out on me.
I turned and looked into her big blue eyes. She wasn't looking at me like I was a wounded bird the way Helen and Jaime did. They tried to act like nothing had changed, but I didn’t miss their whispered conversations when they thought I wasn’t listening. By avoiding any discussion about Justin, they let me wallow in my misery. Chelsea, however, wanted me to start recovering already.
I swallowed and kept my eyes steady on Chelsea's. I suddenly wanted to talk about Justin. I needed to face it head on. What was the answer? I cared too much for him? I made it obvious how much he meant to me? These things came to mind, but all I said to answer Chelsea’s question was, “I was too honest.”
Chelsea didn't reach up to pat my hand or put my hair behind my ear. She nodded and said, “There's no such thing. He just didn't agree.” The reality of her words set in. Didn't agree? Or didn't feel the same way? The tears started to well up again. My vision was blurry but in my mind I could see Justin rejecting me again.
I forgot Chelsea was still next to me when I heard her lean over and whisper, “If I could let you borrow my invisibility Gift for a few days, I would.”
* * * *
Chapter Twelve: The Gifted Retreat
When I woke up the next morning, it was in a room covered from the floor to the ceiling in red roses. Sunlight streamed in the open window shades and illuminated nauseating quantities of the red flower everywhere. I rolled over to take a better look at my surroundings. The flowery design covered the wall paper, the blanket, and the hanging pictures. A vase of red roses sat on the dresser and rose potpourri covered the nightstand.
The cornucopia of the pattern was overwhelming. It was surreal, like I had landed in an old lady’s Garden of Eden, or in the Twilight Zone. I wondered if there was scientific proof that depression causes hallucinations. Or maybe I was suffering from a bad case of jetlag. Then it hit me. I was in Great Aunt Evelyn’s house.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to remember what happened after the plane landed the night before. A smiling, petite woman with big, round glasses and an old fashioned cap had met us at the airport. Her skin was paper thin and hung loosely on her slender frame.
“You must be hungry. I brought some snacks,” she announced before any proper introductions. She handed each of us a Ziploc bag filled with grapes from her bag.
“Let's hurry along. The policeman gave me a hard time about where I parked,” she said, leading the way to the lot. “But don’t worry. When I told him I was ninety-seven, he let me go.” She turned and winked at us.
Someone tucked me into bed later that night, and that was all I remembered before waking up in this flowery hell. Since I was already depressed, I wondered what Justin was doing at that exact moment. He had promised we would spend time together over spring break. My eyes began to sting, and I pulled the blanket back over my head.
I took a deep breath and smelled pancakes. Maybe this place wasn’t exactly hell. I didn't feel like talking to anyone, but my stomach was rebelling from its mission to maintain the hunger strike started the previous day. I pushed away the sheets and hurried out of the sickening rose garden.
The halls had a similar Victorian motif, except the theme was a different flowery design. Purple irises weaved their green stems up and down the walls and all the way to the staircase. Everything was pristine and dust free. It wasn't lavish and expensive-looking, but it was well cared for.
Hanging on the iris wallpaper were dozens of family photos. It was just like any other grandma's house I had been to. I took my time analyzing each picture. Some of the photographs were in vibrant colors and others were fading black and whites. A middle school picture of Jaime and her younger sister, Emma, hung in one small frame.
When I reached the top of the staircase, I took another deep breath, grabbed the white, wooden banister, and made my way down. I walked slowly towards the delicious smell. I had to face everyone eventually.
As soon as I entered the kitchen, Jaime and Helen quickly separated from a hushed conversation. They hungrily piled pancakes on their plates in between shoving massive bites into their mouths. They barely acknowledged my entrance, and although I didn't appreciate their secrets, I happily accepted the silence.
The kitchen had a country feel to it, warm and lived in. Utensils and spices cluttered the stove. The drawers and shelves were built from a light colored wood, and the cabinets had big red knobs. On the counter sat a red tea pot, red oven mitts, and red towels. Pots and pans hovered over the island. The ceiling was high enough, and the room was large enough, that it didn't feel crowded. I joined Helen and Jaime on stools that lined one side of a large island.
Great Aunt Evelyn was bouncing around the kitchen. An apron decorated with a tropical red flower was tied around her waist, and it matched the live flowers that sat in a vase by the window over the sink. Even the curtains were decorated with the red flower design.
Aunt Ev was a small woman, about four foot ten inches in height, but she commanded the kitchen. She tossed pancakes in pans, whipped mixes in bowls, and set timers on her oven at an unbelievable speed for a woman her age.
Of course she was agile and quick! She was Jaime's relative and had once been Gifted before she passed on her jewelry. I could picture Aunt Ev using her Gift. She was probably an impressive woman in her heyday. Who was I kidding? She was an impressive woman in her nineties.
As I filled up my plate, Max and Chelsea entered the room holding hands. Sleepily, Chelsea leaned her head against Max’s chest, and he kissed her hairline.
“Aunt Ev let you sleep together?!” Helen whispered in a voice that she thought was low enough so Aunt Ev wouldn't hear.
Max rolled his eyes and asked, “Are you serious? Aunt Ev gave me a room on the opposite side of the house and on a different floor! Plus, she knows about Chelsea's Gift. She might not have her Gifted abilities, but she has the best hearing in the entire United States.” Aunt Ev laughed, and Max and Chelsea sat down on the empty stools next to me and began loading their plates.
Aunt Ev’s homemade pancakes were delicious. Bowls filled with different toppings covered the table. There were bananas, raspberries, blueberries, as well as M & M’s, peanut butter, and whipped cream. The options were overwhelming.
“Eww, you like mulberries?” Chelsea asked me. She stuck out her tongue in disgust.
“Of course; who doesn’t like mulberries?” I countered. It was my favorite fruit and had been since I was a child. When it came to pies, tarts, and teas, mulberry was always my first choice as a flavor. The rest of the table eyed my plate with disdain as I shoveled a huge forkful of pancakes covered in mulberries into my mouth.
Aunt Ev walked over and said, “Good morning, my children. I hope everyone slept well. You have a busy day ahead of you.” I tried to remember if anyone gave me the rundown of activities for the week or if I was still being treated like a child and dragged along for the ride.
“Aunt Ev, you never told us today’s plans. I w
as hoping we could ask you a few questions about my bracelet,” Jaime said, and I was relieved to hear I wasn’t completely out of the loop.
Aunt Ev shook her head and waved the suggestion away. “There will be time for that, my dear. I am very happy you contacted me. In March we have the Gifted Retreat!” She announced and clapped her hands in excitement.
No one else shared her enthusiasm. Were we being sent to some sort of camp? I didn’t feel like going anywhere, especially if it meant I had to interact with other people. Jamie attempted a smile as she brought her plate to the sink.
Suddenly Aunt Ev’s expression changed to regret. She put her tiny hand on Helen’s arm and said, “I’m sorry, Helen. It’s only for the Gifted, but there’s plenty for us to do together in Salt Lake City.” Helen’s eyes widened with concern. She didn’t want to be separated from us.
“Why can’t Helen come? That’s discrimination against non-Gifted,” Chelsea said between yawns and then immediately looked apologetic. She didn’t mean to defy Aunt Ev. Defending people’s rights was second nature.
Aunt Ev only smiled at Chelsea like she was conversing with old friend. “I’m more concerned with her safety. There will be other Gifted friends at the retreat. Without a Gift, she can’t protect herself,” Aunt Ev explained.
Helen turned to me desperately. She wanted me to step in. Helen and I had practiced for months, and she knew our Gifts better than we did, but most of all, she knew what it was like to fight for her life.
Jaime stood at the sink behind Helen. She was wearing the same deer-in-headlights look as I was, but she didn’t speak up. We both worried about Helen's well-being. If Aunt Ev thought it was dangerous for her to attend, then I wasn't going to argue. Even if I had to look like the bad guy, it was better to be safe than sorry.
An awkward silence ensued, and without saying a word, Helen lowered her eyes to her plate. I thought of Chelsea and her sister and reminded myself that we were all making sacrifices. I was hurting her feelings, but it might save her life.
