by Jeyn Roberts
“Dad’s going to think I’m foolish,” I said. “That I’m too young and this all happened too soon. Maybe it’s true.” I gave Olivia the most pleading look I could muster. “Do you think I’m being stupid? I feel different with Julian. Like I’ve been waiting my entire life for this moment. Oh God, I used to laugh at girls who did the whole love-at-first-sight thing.”
“If it feels right, then it’s right,” Olivia said. We were sitting under a tarp next to the van. The guys were off checking out the band schedule. By then, the rain had been falling for days. Everyone and everything was covered in mud. Olivia had pulled out her wash bucket and was trying to remove stains from some clothes. She even had an old-fashioned washboard. Her hands moved up and down it expertly.
“What about you and Walter?”
“I met him at a civil rights protest in New York. It’s been almost ten years to the date. That’s my Walter, always fighting for something or other. He asked me out for a walk in Central Park right as the police swarmed in for crowd control.” Olivia laughed at the memory. “Inseparable from day one, just like you and Julian. Within a few months, he asked me to marry him,” Olivia said. “And just like you, it felt right. I never doubted it. I knew by the end of our first date that he’d be the man I’d marry.”
“That’s very romantic,” I said.
“Julian is a good man,” Olivia said. “I’ve been raising him for the past four years. I know his heart. The way he looks at you…he’s never looked at another that way. And when he says he loves you, it means he loves you. You could do a lot worse, but you’re never going to do better. Mind you”—she gave me a wink—“I’m biased. If I was a good thirty years younger, I’d be chasing that boy myself.”
Olivia’s comments gave me strength. She was an adult and she understood. And she was willing to bring me into her family.
“Now come on,” she said as a burst of distorted guitar echoed across the valley. “I think Hendrix is about to get down.”
The day after Woodstock ended, Julian and I got into his beat-up truck early and headed back to Dixby. I’d offered to drive with Andrea, but she refused. Instead she drove behind us, honking her horn every now and then just to make sure we didn’t forget. We made several stops along the road, pausing to pick wildflowers, buy snacks at gas stations, and pretty much enjoy that last trip back home.
Olivia, Walter, and the rest packed up and started heading south too. We’d agreed to meet up in Myrtle Beach the next week so that the children could go to the amusement park. From there we’d drive south, then west toward California. They planned on heading up to Washington State come fall, because they had friends and family there. Walter knew a guy who was willing to let them squat on his acreage for the winter. Olivia promised she’d teach me how to sew so I could help make clothing to sell to the shops.
On the outside, I was cool and calm. On the inside, I was a little girl, shaking and biting my lower lip to keep from crying.
The closer we got, the more outwardly nervous I became.
“It’ll be fine,” Julian said after I directed him to turn right. It was late afternoon, and the humidity had claimed the town. There wasn’t a single soul on my street; everyone had retreated indoors to try and beat the heat. Curtains were closed tightly and blinds were drawn. The only sign of life was my neighbor’s dog dozing in the shade under the porch. Julian reached over and put his hand on my knee, giving it a soft squeeze to reassure me he was there. I smiled back at him. From behind us, Andrea honked her horn to let me know she wasn’t pulling over but was instead heading straight home. I waved at her, and as she passed us, she mouthed the words Good luck.
Dad’s truck wasn’t in the driveway. Neither was Marcus’s car. I smiled to myself. If I could get all my stuff packed into Julian’s truck before they got home, I’d consider it a small victory.
* * *
The cave is exactly the same as we left it. Parker and I appear in the middle of the strange cavern. The bowl full of pebbles mocks me. I start to reach down, to pick up a new stone, but Parker grabs my arm.
“You shouldn’t go back.”
I yank hard, pulling away from him. “Yes, I should, and I’m going to.” But Parker gets between the bowl and me, refusing to relent.
“Listen to me, Molly. Just calm down and give me a few minutes of your time.”
“You’re not going to convince me,” I say, trying to dodge left, but Parker is quicker than he looks. He grabs me by the arms again, pulling me close, right up against his body, where I can feel the warmth of his skin. His hands wrap around my waist, and if anything his touch grows hotter. When I look up at him, his lips are inches away from my own.
“I’m not saying you can’t ever go back again,” he says. “But you have to let the power recharge. Even if you pick up all those stones, you’re not going anywhere for a while.”
“What do you mean?” I look straight into Parker’s brown eyes, trying to decide if he’s lying or not. He seems sincere, but I can’t really tell. In the dozens of years I’ve known him, this is the first time I’ve ever seen Parker so passionate. So motivated. So determined to keep me safe.
“It takes a while. Trust me, I know how this works. But you have to be more careful now. You’ve placed a trace of your spirit back on earth. The Remnants will be able to track you more easily now.”
“Yeah, well, they didn’t show up.”
“They were coming,” Parker says. “You heard the wind against the window. That was a sign.”
“Or it was just the wind,” I snap. “Come on, the rain was coming. Hardly a shock, rain in Washington State. Do you know how many times I’ve Faded only to get stuck in a downpour?”
“Why are you so determined not to believe me?”
His hands tighten around my waist.
“Why are you so determined not to believe me?” I whisper.
Parker’s lips curl up into a sad smile. “Is that what you think?” he asks. “I never said anything of the sort. Do you think I would have shown you this place if I didn’t think you could help? But saving that girl, it’s not going to be easy. You’ve got to convince her to stop trying to free your soul first.”
“Right,” I say.
“Come on,” he says. “We should head back down. Being here in this room isn’t good for us. All these feelings and emotions. Trust me, we’re better off not being around them for too long.”
“Why?”
“Because they won’t last. No matter how much you want them to, once we return to the beach, it’s all over. And you can’t stay here. Being here, it changes you. I already learned that the hard way.”
There’s a part of me that wants to suggest we stay in the cave forever. We could move some stuff around, maybe build some furniture, try and create a home. Sure, the beach is where everyone else resides, but does that mean Parker and I couldn’t live here?
“It won’t work,” Parker says, as if he’s reading my mind.
“Why not?”
“Because we’re not alive. Being here, it’s like pretending. Trust me, having this place, trying to exist in it, only causes pain.”
Parker lets go of me and steps away. I’m instantly wishing he’d take me back into his arms, but instead he reaches out his hand to lead me outside.
* * *
Mary is waiting for us back on the beach.
“Where have you been?” she asks.
“Went for a walk,” I say. I can’t wait to tell her about the cave, but I need to find the right time. She’ll be angry that we didn’t include her. As much as I’d like her to come along, I know Mary can be a bit of a gossip. I agree with Parker that such a place is better left a secret. Especially considering that its power is limited. I can only imagine the fights that could break out if everyone started demanding to use it.
“Everyone is acting weird,” Mary whispers to me. “After you left. I can’t explain it, but your outburst got them all riled up. Like a bunch of peacocks fighting over a mirror.
”
“What do you mean?” I look over at the crowd of people, who are sitting in the exact same spots they’ve occupied since they crossed over. Nothing looks different at all. The black iron chairs and tables are still standing. The unlit patio lanterns still don’t move. But when I look at some individual faces, they avert their eyes.
“People were talking,” Mary says. “And guess what. Crazy dog lady stood up for you. Called everyone a bunch of gits and said you’ve got the right idea. Became a loud ragger, she did. Gave this long speech about how just ’cause we’re dead don’t mean we can’t actually have a good chat now and then. Added a bunch of rubbish about how we should be sharing our Fading experiences and being all nice and fuzzy friends. I swear, at one point even her little doggy started barking like he was agreeing with everything she was crapping out.”
I glance over at the dog lady, but she’s moved over to the far corner of the beach. She looks like she’s talking softly to herself, but her dog is sitting on her lap, so she’s probably rambling away to him. The more I stare at her, though, the more I notice that she looks terrified. She’s rocking back and forth, stroking the dog’s ears as if she’s afraid he’s going to disappear on the spot.
“And then get this,” Mary says. “It started raining.”
“What?” Parker and I both say in unison.
“It was the weirdest thing,” Mary says. “No clouds or anything. But all of a sudden, rain came out of nowhere. Soaked the beach. Got everyone into a right ol’ tizzy.” She grabs my hand and leads me over to our spot. “There, look!”
It takes me a moment to notice what she’s pointing at. Our wood log, the place where I’ve planted my behind for over forty years, looks different. It’s wet. I touch the spot with my fingers. If I were to sit down right now, my skirt would most definitely get damp.
Then I remember Graham and Levi fighting with Parker. I lift up the corner of my hem and look at the stitching. There, along the bottom, is the tear in the fabric. Permanent. In the many decades I’ve been here, I’ve never even gotten a stain or a piece of lint. I poke my fingers through the hole, carefully, not wanting to let anyone else see.
This is a sign. But of what?
And how is this related to the fact that we just had our first-ever change in the weather?
“It can’t be, can it?” I ask Parker.
“I don’t know.” Parker looks as stumped as the rest of us.
“Don’t you see what this means?” Mary says. “We’ve been wrong. This place can change. Parker, you know this. Remember when the pretty tables showed up? I was so sick of those drab wooden benches. Reminded me too much of those nasty pubs in Whitechapel. I swear, I used to look at them and could almost smell them drunkards and remember the way they used to grope me. Kept bringing up bad thoughts. Maybe that’s what happened. Someone else got so tired of the décor, they managed to change things without even knowing it. Imagine what we could do if we really started thinking about it. Could turn this place into the Queen’s palace if we so wanted.”
Mary can’t control her excitement. She thinks she’s onto something here, and the desire to make things different has taken over.
“I could get me a new dress, I could,” she says. “Get rid of this damned corset once and for all. Something modern and pretty. Gonna have to find meself a magazine or something next time I Fade.” She reaches up and tugs at her curls. “And a new hairstyle too. Something short and daring.”
“I’m not sure that’s quite what happened,” Parker says. “If we could change this place that easily, don’t you think we would have figured it out by now? Come on, Mary, you’ve been here longer than I have. You know how things work.”
Mary pauses. She marches straight over to Parker. “You know something.”
Parker shakes his head, but his eyes give him away. Even I can see it.
“Yes, you do,” Mary says. “What do you know? Spit it out.” She turns around and looks me over long and hard. “You know something too.”
Close beside us, a group of people overhears our conversation. I can see them from the corner of my eye, listening intently.
“Not so loud,” I say.
“Then tell me what you know. How did you make it rain?”
“It wasn’t me.”
“Of course it was.” Mary throws her arms up in the air. “You’re the one who was ranting and raving earlier. Then you and Parker disappear into the mountains and everything goes all wonky. You did something and you know it. I can see it all over your face.”
“I didn’t. At least I don’t think I did.”
Mary hoots loudly. More eyes turn in our direction. Parker shakes his head and starts walking away toward the trees. He nods at us to follow.
“Come on,” I say. “Not here. Let’s go somewhere more private and talk. We’ve got something to show you. You’re gonna just die.”
Mary does a little jig, her petticoats flying. She’s acting like a little girl who just discovered Santa Claus is real.
Great. So much for being able to keep a secret. At the rate we’re going, it’ll be less than a few hours before everyone knows. And I need to get back to Tatum. I think of all the people on the beach and wonder what places they’d try and go if given a pebble and a bit of chalk.
No, it’s not going to happen. Not until I save Tatum. I will not let them take that from me. After that, I don’t give a damn if they use up all the energy, or magic, or whatever force keeps us locked away. They can travel to the moon or Mongolia for all I care. Once I’ve helped Tatum, there’s nothing back on earth I need to see. Not really.
The Julian I used to know is gone. If he’s still alive, he’ll be a lot different from the boy he once was. He’d be even older than my father was. Would I really want to see him again? I may not have changed, but for him it’s been a lifetime. No, some things are better left alone. I’m not that selfish.
Not anymore.
* * *
The day I left Dixby behind, I took the coward’s way out. I went into my bedroom and gathered all my clothes. Julian packed up my albums and the battered old record player Dad had given me for my twelfth birthday. I grabbed my photo album and the few pieces of jewelry I’d collected over the years. Afterward, I looked at my bedroom and marveled over how empty it felt. Less than a week ago it had been my sanctuary. The hiding place I could go to when I needed to get away from the rest of the world. I’d painstakingly decorated it the exact way I wanted. The rock posters with the bands I loved. The dresser I’d painted to look like a psychedelic rainbow. The thick blanket with the daisies, which kept me warm on cold nights. My old slippers, which always ended up pushed halfway under the bed.
I looked at all these things for several minutes while Julian took my possessions out to his truck. I studied the things I was rejecting. They no longer had a place in my heart.
None of it mattered. All these things I had once loved, I would leave them behind. I wondered what Dad would do. How long would he stand at the door, wondering when I might come home? When he finally realized I was gone for good, would he throw everything away and make the room into a spare bedroom? An office?
When Julian came back, he wrapped his arms around me and we stood in silence while I said my goodbyes. With the warmth of his body pressed against me, any last regrets and fears faded away. I was ready. I would not have a fight with my father while trying to convince him I was old enough to strike out on my own. I wouldn’t give the neighbors the chance to listen to every heated word. I wouldn’t allow Marcus to side with Dad and yell about how I was too young, too stupid, too foolish to believe that I was in love.
I was too chicken.
I wrote my father a letter.
I told him about Julian and how I was in love. I said there was nothing he could do to change my mind. I begged him not to try and find me or call the police. I pointed out several times that I was, in my eyes, an adult, and ready to make my mark on the world.
I cried as I wrote it. M
y tears blurred the ink at one point, and I had to scribble over the words and rewrite them. But as difficult as it was to leave my family and my life, I knew I was going where I wanted to be.
I wanted Julian.
I ended the letter by telling Dad I’d call him once I got settled and let him know where I was. I promised to keep in touch. I’d answer all his questions about Julian. I left the note on the kitchen table and walked out the door, hand in hand with Julian, embracing my new future.
You see, I said earlier I have no regrets. But I do have one.
I never spoke to my father again.
TATUM
There’s a glaring A+ across the front page of her biology test. A grade that Tatum knows is bullshit because she deliberately answered four questions wrong. The answer to question three, for example: the flobberworm dying from too much lettuce is not a definition of biological structure. The zombie apocalypse isn’t a good example of natural selection, either.
There was a lot of discussion about allowing Tatum to continue taking biology with Mr. Paracini. Some of the staff insisted she not be allowed anywhere near him; others argued that she shouldn’t be denied the college credit. Sadly, Tatum’s high school is small, and it wasn’t as simple as placing her with another teacher. Mr. Paracini is the only biology instructor around for miles. Finally the decision came down that she deserved the chance. Rules were set in motion. Tatum is never allowed to be in the empty classroom with him. Heaven forbid she might get the idea to remove her clothing again and prance naked around the hamster cage. She can’t meet him in private or in his office either. If she has something to discuss about her lessons, she is to do it in the hallways while other teachers are around to witness.
