by J. Q. Davis
I couldn’t contain my smile.
“Oh gosh, what do you have planned?” she asked, concern beginning to show on her face.
“Nothing! Phoebe and I are going to do our usual for Halloween. You know, haunted house hopping and then some bloody movies.” I wouldn’t dare make it known to her that Tristen and Eric would be with us. I was almost certain she would cancel her weekend…or maybe even quit her job before she let that happen.
She stared at me for a moment, possibly trying to read my face for lies. “I really wish you girls would watch something else other than those horrible movies,” she finally said. “They are so grotesque.”
“No they’re not. They’re fun! Exciting, thrilling, and sometimes even funny.”
“Well, just make sure that you eat. Oh, and I already packed some snacks for you. Actually, let me go ahead and put them in your purse now before you forget.”
She grabbed what seemed like eight tons of sandwich baggies filled with her homemade goodies and stuffed them into my purse that was hanging on dining room chair. Everything from dried fruit, beef jerky, trail mix, pork rinds, candy, and some more beef jerky were stuffed in the bags. Oh, and let’s not forget a thermos filled with her amazing pomegranate juice.
“And here is some cash,” she added. “This should take care of all the haunted houses. Are you girls coming back here to watch those terrible movies?”
“Yup.”
“Okay, well be sure to text me throughout the weekend. And please, please be careful Grace. If anything…strange happens, just call me.”
“You mean, if I decide to dine on another helpless animal?”
“Grace, it’s not a joke,” she said sternly.
“Well, it’s kind of funny. Remember when I was all like ‘Mom, I just ate a cat!’ ”
“Grace Elizabeth! That is enough!” She was getting upset.
“Okay, I was just making light of the situation. Yes, I will call if anything is wrong. Okay?”
“That’s all I ask. Well, I have to get up early for my flight. I love you Gracie,” she said softly. She took me into a hug and of course, I hugged back. I supposed I couldn’t be mad at her forever. And besides, she was leaving for the weekend, which was amazing. It was like a gift to me from her. Tristen and I…alone. Well, Phoebe and Eric would be here, but I was sure they would probably not be anywhere in sight.
As we headed up the stairs together, I stopped her midway. “Mom, do you think I should go with Dr. Roberson?”
She gripped my hands into hers and sighed.
“Grace, I want you to do whatever you want to do. Of course I don’t want you to go. But I believe that it will only help you.” She grabbed a piece of my hair and flung it over my shoulder. “I fear that if you don’t go, things will only get worse.”
“But how? Mom, what is wrong with me?” I asked with sheer desperation in my tone. “Why do I wake up looking like death and eat like a horse and feed on things with a pulse? Am I some kind of freak? Do I have a disease? Is it going to kill me?”
“Honey, I believe that Dr. Roberson should be the one to answer all of your questions because this is what he specializes in.”
“But you’re a doctor too.” I didn’t understand why she just couldn’t explain it all to me.
“I was a doctor. Now I’m just an assistant.” I could tell the reality of that stung her heart a little.
This wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I wanted her to tell me what to do. As much as I would rather her not do that in other aspects of my life, I wanted her to be straight with me and tell me what to do about this whole situation. Instead, she was giving me leg room to make my own choices. So not the time.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Honey, do what you believe will be best not only for right now, but for your future. Dr. Roberson says this is only going to get worse without treatment. But you can change that.”
“Why aren’t you forcing me to go? It’s so…unlike you.”
She took a deep breath and put her hand on my back, gesturing for us to continue up the stairs. “Grace, you’re getting older now. I realize that I can’t tell you what to do anymore. And it’s a big decision to leave your friends, your school, me…I can’t push this on you. I can only support you. Obviously this is a very serious matter. As much as I want to tie you up and put you on that plane not now, but right now, I just can’t do that. If you decide not to go, I will figure out what we can do to make sure you are healthy. I have done so your whole life. Dr. Roberson already told me that he would send people here to help. Besides, this type of treatment requires you to want to go.”
Still not what I wanted to hear!
She kissed my forehead. “Goodnight honey. I will see you on Monday morning.”
And just like that, she closed her bedroom door. I stood on the landing of our stairs, wondering what just happened. How could she just leave it to me to make what was probably going to be the biggest decision of my life? From what I understood, if I didn’t go, I could probably die. If I did go, I would probably live. At least longer. But I couldn’t just leave. I couldn’t just leave my life, the life that I had known for so long. The only life that I knew. How could I live in another place where I wouldn’t know anyone else, where I would be completely vulnerable and completely alone? This was literally a life or death situation. So why wasn’t she forcing me to go?
Or why wasn’t I just saying yes already? And the worst part was that I had absolutely no idea what was threatening my life. Apparently, something was in my body that wasn’t supposed to be there. Or maybe there really wasn’t anything wrong with me. Dr. Roberson never actually said that I could die from this. He just said it would get worse.
That familiar, sharp, pain shot through my intestines, followed by a hungry growl. I hunched over and grabbed the banister, as this one was worse than usual.
Yeah, something was definitely wrong with me.
My legs instantly began to weigh down. The throbbing in my head quickly grew stronger and the rest of my body immediately ached.
On my trudge back to the kitchen, the sound of the waves crashing off the coast of Costa Rica rang through my ears.
~ ~ ~ ~
I could hear voices, but I saw no one. It was dark. Completely dark. I couldn’t see my hands. The smell of salt was in the air. The sound of waves were near. I searched, desperately trying to find some sign of light in the distance. Nothing. I didn’t move forward, afraid of what was ahead. I didn’t move backward, afraid of what was behind. My body ached. I felt feverish, frail. The touch of my own skin was rough and rigid. I felt old. Hungry. My stomach screamed for something. Anything.
Finally, in the distance, two tiny red dots appeared. They were close together. They were moving slowly, but closer towards me. I squinted to get a better look. My vision was no longer sharp. Only two red dots. Then, another set appeared to the left of them. Now there were four dots…traveling slowly, but closer. Again, to the right, two more dots. Six red dots. Little by little, but still growing closer. And again, two more dots. And again. And again. Eight, Fourteen, Twenty…I began to lose count. They were shuffling in a triangular formation. The pace was steady. Slow and steady. I braced myself, afraid of what was ahead. The smell of salt was gone and replaced by the smell of rot. It was raw...real. It was spoiling meat. It was old blood. It was sickly. It crept into my lungs, causing me to gag.
The dots grew closer and the smell stronger. I held my breath as long as I could, relieving the odor and preparing for what lay ahead. And then, the first two red dots stopped, suddenly revealing a head and a body. A man. A rotting, decaying man. His skin was slipping off his face. His lips were gone. Black ooze dripped from both his ears. His clothes were torn. His hair was thin and nearly gone. His finger nails were long, filthy. And his eyes…his eyes were…familiar.
I stood, quiet. I couldn’t feel my heart. I couldn’t feel anything but hunger.
He cocked his head slightly to one side. His red ey
es pierced into mine. They were soft. They were hurt. They were so familiar.
A sense of comfort washed over me. Relief set in. I knew him. I’ve always known him. It was him. He was there…for me.
His jaw moved as if to speak but broke off, crashing into the ground…like glass smashing into a million pieces.
I reached out to him, grabbing what was left of his hand. His skin was rough and rigid.
“Dad?”
My eyes popped open from my deep sleep. Light barely seeped in from my blinds. I turned my head to look at the clock. 4:30 a.m. Ugh! I needed to go back to sleep.
I felt a warm wetness on my pillow and assumed I had been sweating from my dream. I reached over to flip my lamp on. The light bulb illuminated my arm, revealing bright red dots. I was bleeding. Drops and splotches of blood laid across my hand and my arm. Panicked, I looked down at my pillow, only to see more blood. At that moment, I realized my eyes were wet. A tear escaped, landing perfectly on the nail of my index finger. It was blood. The achiness of my body began to register in my brain, and I struggled to get out of bed as quickly as I wanted to. When I was finally able to reach the bathroom, I flipped the switch, dreading what I was about to see in the mirror.
Blood, my blood, was rolling down my cheeks, reminiscent of tears. The mirror was a blur, but I squinted to focus in on what exactly was going on. I gasped when I realized there was not a single trace of white in my eyes. They were red. Brilliantly red. And blood continued to roll down my face like a running faucet.
From what I could see, everything else was okay. My mouth, my nose, my teeth, my ears. All there, all still intact. I was just crying…blood.
With nausea and hunger beginning to arise in the pit of my stomach, the hunger won and I knew I needed to make my way to the kitchen. I grabbed a towel from the rack and wiped my face before heading downstairs. It was difficult to see, as the blood continuously surged out. I paced my steps.
Mom had left breakfast in the fridge and I couldn’t even make it to the table. I stood in the refrigerator door to eat.
After allowing the amazing breakfast to settle into my belly, which actually felt like it was all gone as soon as it entered my mouth, I headed back upstairs to get my blood-speckled sheets off the bed and into the wash. I hadn’t looked into the mirror yet, but my eyes seemed to have gone back to normal as soon as I began eating. Quite honestly, I couldn’t tell you if that were certain. That food was all I could think about and I was afraid to look in the mirror again.
I chose to once again forget the freaky things happening to my body. It was actually beginning to be routine to wake up knowing something was going to be wrong.
As I worked to clean my room, thoughts of tonight began to float around my mind. The butterflies in my stomach commenced their dance as a forecast of Tristen and I being together clouded me. I pictured a night full of sexy staring and flirty smiles and tender touches. I pictured a whole lot of almost kissing moments, which I actually welcomed because when it finally did happen, it would be like opening the gates to heaven. Trumpets and all. Although, if I kept putting it off, I could run the risk of it never actually happening.
I finally finished cleaning up and decided to shower, still avoiding the mirror. After a towel dry, I wrapped it around me and decided to text Phoebe to be sure we were all still on track with the plans. Phoebe spoke to Eric. Eric apparently wanted Tristen’s number so that he could befriend him and confirm the plans. Finally, Tristen texted me and let me know everything was good to go.
With everything in place, and while eating a roast beef po-boy Mom prepared for me, I began to make my costume.
I decided to take some old, ratty clothes and shred them. With some fake blood and silicon flesh left over from a few Halloweens ago, I began on the work of art on my face.
With some hesitation before looking in the mirror, I finally faced the music. I looked normal, maybe a little bit tired. I assessed my eyes, opening them wide and shutting them tight a few times. Nothing there.
Although what my body was doing seemed really cool in some ways, healing itself in no time, it was still reminding me that I was, in fact, sick. There was definitely something wrong with me. As much as I wanted to deny it, my body was not allowing me to forget it. Could one consider my amazing healing abilities to be a sickness or a blessing?
But with this weekend, I would try my hardest to just forget about any of that.
While enjoying a delicious beef pot pie, I examined my face before continuing on into my Halloween makeup kit. Some highlighting, black patches, a little prosthetics, and blood should do the trick. I popped in my favorite zombie DVD, season one of The Walking Dead, and began the transformation.
Halfway through, my phone began to ring. I leaned over to see the caller ID.
760-555-7589
Who the heck was this? I was about to ignore the call, when I realized the number actually looked familiar. Megan.
“Hello?”
There was no response.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
“Is this…is this Gracie?”
How did she know my name? I didn’t leave a message. And Gracie? No one called me Gracie except Mom.
“Um…Yes, this is Grace. Is this Megan?”
“Yes. It’s me. How are you?”
Her voice seemed shaky. Almost nervous.
“I’m fine. I uh...how did you know my name was Grace?”
…
“Megan?”
“I just knew. I just knew it was you Gracie.”
I could hear a sniffle. This phone call was getting weirder by the minute.
“I’m sorry I didn’t leave a message. I honestly didn’t even know why I called you. It’s just that I found your number one day in my mother’s room and figured you knew her.”
“Evie? How is she? Is she okay?”
Her voice grew frantic.
“Evie? I’m sorry, but I don’t know who that is.”
“Your mother. My sister.”
“Um, my mother’s name is Veronica.”
“Veronica? No.” She sounded confused and I wasn’t sure where this conversation was going. It felt like nowhere.
“Megan, I’m sorry, I must have gotten things mixed up. I was calling because I thought…I thought you knew my mother and about…things I guess. I’m not sure why exactly I called, but I think I may have made a mistake. Thank you for returning my call, though. I really have to go.”
“No wait! Please. Gracie, please. Your mother is Eve. Her real name is Eve.”
“Megan, I think you might be mista—”
“You are from California. Your dad’s name is Jack Manning. You had a dog named Lucy. You were very, very sick when you were little.”
My heart jumped into my mouth, leaving me unable to say a word.
“I am your aunt, Gracie. I am Aunt Megan. Please don’t hang up. I just want to know where you are. What happened? Why did your mom take you away from us? You got better and she took you away. She never called. She just left.” The sound of her voice revealed that waterfalls were falling from her eyes at that very moment. Her sadness flowed through the phone.
I didn’t know what to say. What could I say to this woman? I had no idea who she was. For all I knew, she could be some psycho woman stalker. But it all made sense. It coincided with the note I read from Meg to Evie. She could really be my aunt. My family. Someone my mother hid from me for years.
“Gracie, please talk to me. I have waited to hear from you for over ten years. Are you and your mother ok—”
I hung up.
I didn’t know what else to say. She wanted to know so much, and I knew nothing. I didn’t even know if she was really telling the truth. Why would my mother lie to me about having a family? We didn’t have a family. Mom was an only child. Her parents died in a car accident before she had me. Dad had family, but he was an only child too. My grandfather died and my grandmother on my dad’s side had Alzheimer’s and was in a home somewhere far a
way. There was really no one but me and Mom. Why would she lie about having a sister? What was she holding back?
The doorbell rang.
This was going to be an important night. I knew Mom was keeping things from me, and as much as I wanted to know what the hell was going on, I decided to push those thoughts aside and focus on what was in front of me.
And as I opened the door, there he was, right in front of me.
“Oh my God! Are you dead?” Tristen asked in horror.
I tried to hold back my smile. He almost looked exactly like me! Blood and dirt smeared over his ratty clothes. Dark circles under his eyes and wounds on his checks and neck. “Oh my God! Are you dead?” I asked.
Tristen lifted his arms out in front of him and stumbled in through the door slowly. “Brains,” he grumbled in a pained voice.
I laughed and panicked at the same time as I realize he was going to crash right into me. I contemplated moving out of the way, but realized standing in his path would probably be quite delightful. Anything to have him close.
I braced myself as he closed in on me. When he did reach me, he wrapped his arms around my body, and the butterflies in my belly multiplied in number. His grip was gentle, his touch was tantalizing. I closed my eyes and breathed in his smell. Part cologne, part Halloween makeup.
He squeezed once and pulled away. Way, way too soon. I looked down at my feet before moving aside to let him all the way in. Don’t be shy, Grace.
“So, are you excited about tonight?” he asked as he sat down on the couch.
“Yeah, I’m super excited. It’s going to be fun.”
“Is your mom here?”
My nerves were suddenly worse. It had just hit me that we were alone. “Um…no, she had a work thing this weekend.” I couldn’t look straight at him. Instead, I headed into the kitchen to get him a bottle of water.
When I walked back into the living room, he was at the mantle looking at the photo frames. “You were super cute when you were little.”
“When I was little?”
