"What?"
"You know, about your tickets being booked for the wrong day?"
Thank God indeed, I think while looking at Abigail, who is now getting off the car.
"Oh and who is that?" My mother asks in that voice, half way between a sweet smile and a FBI interrogatory.
"I'm Abigail, Ms. Stills. Your son's girlfriend. "
"My what?" I scream unconsciously.
"Girlfriend" she holds my hand so firmly that I think she will break it in half. "He is still recovering from the long flight."
My mom looks at both of us, with her mouth wide open. She suddenly starts screaming again.
"But that's wonderful!" She jumps on Abigail "you must stay with us for the holidays!"
"It will be a pleasure" She bends over me and kisses me "I could not imagine a second away from him."
CHAPTER 35
"What the hell where you thinking?" I yell at Abigail once we get into my deserted room.
"My job is to make sure that nothing happens to you, I had to find a way to stick around."
"And you could not find another way? Did you actually have to use that one?"
"I could have gone with probation agent, but I guess it would have been worse for you."
"Just shut up" I close the door behind my back and walk downstairs, leaving Abigail on the room, or so I think, because when I get into the kitchen she is helping my mom with the groceries.
"I'll be happy to help you Mrs. Stills."
"Oh please, call me Louise, I'm not that old."
Abigail blinks at her, and I feel like I am about to vomit.
I try to look at anywhere but at them, I blank my mind and try to picture myself lying on my bed back in Barcelona, waiting for Elizabeth to come around. Although that never happened, it is perhaps one of the best memories I could die with, only thinking about that makes me strong enough to watch time go by.
"This is going to be too complicated" I tell her, and I hope she is thinking the same.
Minutes become hours and days turn into an everlasting eternity. Everything seems to be wrong, I don't fit in here anymore. My mind is still too focused on what I have left behind and even though that it's been a week now I can't help but wonder why is it that she sent me away. She can't obviously hide me forever, she sent me to my own house, so hiding me is obviously not her intention. It doesn't matter how much thought I give to the situation, she is not here, I am, and I need to do my best to seem as good as possible, I don't want anyone to worry about me.
Abigail is always around, I rarely have a moment to myself, and she does not even let me go outside without her. It feels so embarrassing that I have not set a foot outside since last week.
I am so reluctant to let go of these lasts months that my suitcase is still in my room, packed. I fear that if I do open it, and empty it, everything will be officially over, and I am not ready for it, not yet.
My mom is constantly cooking for me and Abigail, she seems to have missed cooking for me –as much as I have missed it myself– I am happy to see her so alive, so full of energy. She visits David every day, but I still can't go, I don't think I will ever be ready for that, we were told that it was basically impossible for him to wake up, but I keep hoping, I still need to apologize, one more time.
Grandpa is rarely out of his room but when he is he just keeps telling old stories to Abigail, I wish I could tell him that she is older than him and probably has more interesting things to say about life than him.
"Don't you think it's about time that you forget about the whole thing?" Abigail's voice comes into my head without invitation and takes me away from my thoughts.
"I think I will stick around to it for as long as I want, thank you."
"It will be worse, don't you see that?"
I try to ignore her, but I can't, I turn to her and face her, unwilling to surrender.
"I can't give up on her."
"You will have to, it was her choice to let you live, little thing. You can't have her."
She is right, I guess. Elizabeth has given me the chance to continue with my life, away from all this craziness. She has risked so much, even her own life and right to join her people, but I still need her beside me. Her company has kept me going, and when she was not around I used what I learned with her to go on. I am sure I will get over this, eventually, but without her it's going to be more difficult.
"Then what do you propose I do?" I keep my voice low, hoping that she won't hear me and so she won't give me any piece of advice.
"That must come from you, but the one thing I know you need to do, is unpack. You are not there anymore, you are here, back to normal. Don't be stupid, boy. Don't waste the second chance. "
She stands up and walks out of the room. I think she is giving me some time to myself, she knows I need it. After all, she is also capable of thinking about other people's needs, not just her own.
I put all my thoughts in order, take my time to witness every moment as a floating picture going through my head, repeating some of them, making sure they will never go away. I feel something cold in my chest, the necklace Elizabeth gave me. I take it as a sign, as if Elizabeth was trying to tell me something. But I can't pretend for any longer, Abigail is right, that part of my life resides now in the past. I get on my knees and unzip the suitcase that holds so many memories.
I put everything on my bed, some clothes need to be rewashed, because they smell funny from all spending too many days inside the suitcase. I empty it slowly, stretching on the moment of saying goodbye. I had not realized of how many things one can gather in just a few months: clothes, stupid things that I will never use, CD's, a book ripped off in half... So many things that will just be gathering dust from now on.
I take the pile of clothes downstairs. My mom and Abigail look at me and for a moment I think that they are about to clap, as if they had been waiting for me to unpack for ages.
"Leave that over there honey, you have kept it in your room for a week so I don't think you need it right away, do you?" that is my mother's way to say that she won't be cleaning the clothes anytime soon, as a sort of punishment. If I need them, I will have to do it myself.
The days go on, I keep thinking about everything but I try to hide it from Abigail. There had not been so much life in this house since before the accident, and I am starting to enjoy the combination of Abigail and Louise, they make funny jokes that sometimes are a good get away from my thoughts and fears.
We have had big lunches and dinners from the day we got back. I have seen relatives that I had not met in years, and everyone seems so happy about me and Abigail, I guess she is playing a wonderful part, because I am not too much into pretending that we are a couple, no matter how hard she tries to insist.
"I am supposed to be keeping you safe, and the way to do so is by not having people getting suspicious about me."
"I'm sorry, I am trying as hard as I can."
"You are trying shit. I have told you before, Alex. She is risking more than what you could ever imagine, if you screw things up, I am going to hunt you down for the rest of your life."
"If this does not work out as she planned, the rest of my life will end pretty soon, am I right?"
"Exactly, so just pretend that we are together so I can actually stick around and watch over you." She says all this without losing her temper or the sweet fake smile. Everyone looks at us and I bet they think she is saying nothing but nice things to me, if only they knew.
The nights are the worst. If I don't sleep, I keep thinking about Elizabeth, and if I fall asleep I dream that she kills me, or that she dies with me. It's unbearable, but Abigail can't help me, my dreams are my own, no one else's, and if something hurts me in them, it's my problem, and no one else's.
I try to keep myself from thinking today, so I picture anything that comes to my mind. A television series that I would like to watch, paintings that I used to like when I was at school, I try to remember lyrics to songs that I am not sure that
ever existed. Anything that can keep me awake and from thinking should work, but the problem is that the thinking always comes back.
I can see myself opening the suitcase once more. I want to put everything back in, go back in time and go back to my room in Barcelona, that's what I want. I see everything so vividly that I know I am dreaming again. Oddly enough, no one seems to be dying in this dream. I keep putting things back into the suitcase but I keep holding the last thing that I should put back in.
A book ripped off in half.
I wake up instantly and jump of my bed. I knew I could not let go from this so easily. I look into my wardrobe and suitcase. I open it slowly, trying not to make any noise. Once it's open I look for the book in between the other things that I left inside. I take the book, carefully, and a piece of paper falls from in between its pages. There is something written in the paper.
Elizabeth's handwriting.
CHAPTER 36
I look at the piece of paper every time I got a chance to do so, which is difficult with Abigail looking over my shoulder the whole day. I found it a couple of weeks ago and I have kept it a secret, but I just realized that perhaps Abigail, who was sent here to help and guide me, could know something about it.
Barbra Harris, 212 Middle Street, Bath ME
"What does that mean?” Abigail asks when after days of asking me what was going on, I show her the piece of paper.
"Well, it just looks like a direction."
"Who is this Barbra Harris?"
I tell her about her, and about the book.
"I don't like her."
As every other Immortal that knows about the book, I am not surprised to hear it.
"I want to go" I say firmly, without hesitation.
"Yeah, in your dreams."
"No, in your car."
She looks at me as surprised as I am myself. Elizabeth wrote down that direction on a piece of paper and put it in the book afterwards, I can only think that she wanted me to find it, and if she did, she obviously wants me to go there. I explain that to Abigail, with more enthusiasm than I have ever used.
"What will you say to your mother?"
"I thought you were the one with the ideas."
"I'm sorry Alex, I can't."
I say nothing, the disappointment is clearly noticeable on my face. There's no need to exchange more information, for a moment I thought I might have found something, now the hope just vanished.
I have been avoiding human contact for the past weeks, not because I miss Elizabeth; that would be a stupid way to go with it. I am hiding myself away because the frustration I feel inside me keeps me from moving. I know that there might be an explanation to all this waiting for me, and at the same time I know it is unreachable because the one who sent with me to protect me won't let me leave and look for it. Whatever the angle I look at it, the odds are not in my favor, I know that, I just want to help, to feel useful again, or for the first time even.
I am reading over the whole book once more, perhaps there is something I've missed, some way I can help Elizabeth not to become a Tartar that does not include my death. I am being too selfish, perhaps, but I can't lie, if I can come out of this alive, I won't have it any other way. But the book only goes so far, and half the information I need is not here, I know it. Both Elizabeth and Jay told me endless times that if I wanted to know anything about their kind I only had to ask, because I would not find anything here. That, I guess, is why she left me the note. Because she wanted me to know something, something that the book won't tell me. But what is it? What could it be so important that she refused to tell me herself, and rather she preferred to let me find out?
It's been a month and I am starting to feel better, not free, but better. I am finally going out, with or without Abigail, she thinks that after all these days some air will be good for me and that probably nothing bad will happen in my neighborhood. Even though I get to walk out, she follows me from a relatively close distant, far enough from me to give me some freedom, but close enough to come to my aid if I should need it.
Abigail knows that I am utterly disappointed in her, and she does not talk to me much lately. Mom thinks that we are going through one hell of a bad momentum thing, which I guess fits on Abigail's plans. After all, once this thing is over, once Elizabeth becomes a Tartar, there will be no reason to protect me, Mal will have prevented Elizabeth from becoming a God, and she won't need me.
It is the last Wednesday before the first weekend of February. That means that the moment is close, a moment that half the population of the world is expecting, but not because of me and Elizabeth. Elizabeth should become a God the night of the Super Bowl.
The week is being harder than I had anticipated, knowing that the life of the one I love is about to end, or worse, become a nightmare for eternity is killing me slowly enough to let me experience it. It's been three days since I last had an hour of sleep, I can't stand this anymore, my head is full of bad feelings and what I just decided is nothing but the worst decision and the craziest one I have made in my life. But I won't regret it, I can't just sit here and wait for the moment to come.
I wake up and put on some clothes. I walk through the darkness of my sleeping home, trying not to wake anyone. I go to the kitchen and I write a note to my mom, and obviously, to Abigail.
I went out.
My mom does not need to know any further, and Abigail will know exactly where I am.
I get into the garage. The stolen car from the airport shines with the fluorescent’s pale light. My heart is beating so fast that I can't hear anything but the blood running through my veins. I am sweating as much as I did the last time I got into the driver's side of a car. I have not done this since the day of the accident and I promised myself I would never do it again, but the situation changes everything, fear changes the way anyone feels about something. I get inside and take a deep breath, I try to focus on anything but the accident, which tries to come back to me every instant. Finally, I take the keys out and insert them into the ignition system. The car starts, and I thank Abigail for picking an almost silent car.
I leave my house, I look at it from the rear mirror and think that normal is overrated; I don't want to go back to normal. I’ve had monotony for quite enough. I need to know that Elizabeth will be alright, and I cannot leave that to chance. I am tired of waiting on the dark, I need to do something.
I get into the highway; the dark road seems to welcome me as an entrance to hell. I am scared of everything. I am human, and no matter how brave I could be, fear is the one thing that pushes us either back, or forward to beat anything.
I drive, not knowing what I will find once I've reached my destination. But the only thing I know is that Elizabeth will be gone in three days, and that is all I care about.
She saved me more than once, now I need to repay the favor.
CHAPTER 37
There's nothing in front of me but the limitless road and the long bridges to far beyond. My trip is a long one, but I try to keep both my eyes fixed on the road, my mind empty of any distractions, this is hard enough as it is, I don't need any more worries.
Driving alone helps; I don't hear anyone talking about what happened yesterday, or the day before. It is just me, and for once, I am thankful for it. The traffic is moderate; leaving so early at night has proven most useful. But I still got a long journey to go, a long and lonely one. Deep inside I have a fear that Abigail will have noticed of my disappearance by now and probably is more than furious. However, that does not make me stop, nor makes me think about possible side effects to what I have done.
I enter Maine four hours after leaving home, the answer to the piece of paper lies only some miles away from me and it is now that I start to realize that I am getting closer and closer to Elizabeth somehow. I keep driving, crossing more bridges and feeling the water beneath me as the precursor of a fresh start, for both of us. It has come to a point that I hardly feel the car, I drive as smoothly as I can and I am getting over the f
ear I had when I left, it may be the adrenaline in me that kills everything else, but I like it.
Nearly six hours after having a duel with myself about this whole thing, I enter the town of Bath; the wide streets are perfect for me, so I don't have to think too much about driving. I go past the city hall, with the grey rocky pillars welcoming me to the city. Nearly 8,500 people living here, I cannot imagine living more at peace than this, far away from anything that could mean trouble.
I drive around looking for Middle Street, one hand holding the wheel, and the paper note with the other. It seems impossible to get there, I have no idea of where the street might be, so eventually I pull over near some neighbors going for a stroll near the city hall to ask for directions. Two nice women answer me with funny jokes and smiles, I have been circling around the same street all the time instead of just driving ahead, which would have lead me straight to Middle Street. I thank them both with a wide smile on my face, impersonating their own, and start the car again. I drive carefully enough not to miss the corner I am supposed to take.
I turn right when I get to Middle Street and keep a close eye to the numbers on the building's walls. 212 is a long way ahead. It takes me about five minutes of slow and careful driving to get there. I am lucky and I can park the shiny car that has attracted so much attention along the way right in front of the door.
I get off the black BMW and walk straight to the door. I pass by the mailbox and the surname Harris is written on it with white painting and beautifully written letters. No doubt, the woman that wrote the volume on the Immortals lives here. I go up the stairs and knock the door, not knowing if I should, but since I came all the way, I am not turning back now. Not without my answer.
I hear footsteps on the more than likely wooden floor. Before reaching the door, the footsteps stop, I hear how the door unlocks and then slowly opens. To my surprise, I am not welcomed by a Harris, after all. It is Abigail herself, looking as furious as one could be.
"What on earth were you thinking?" She shouts at me, grabbing my shirt by the chest and pulling me in.
The Mortal Fringe Page 17
