by Kade Cook
“Okay,” Matthias replies, watching her struggle, and only running a few more steps he stops dead.
Gabrian continues on for a couple of beats past him but ends her charade as soon as she realizes that he is no longer in motion. “What’s wrong?” she puffs, secretly grateful for the break.
“Just a cramp,” he says, rubbing the side of his leg.
Her brows twist at this odd reply. “Borrowers don’t get cramps, do they?”
“Apparently, they do,” he lies and pretends to continue rubbing at the culprit muscle in his leg. “We are not machines, you know.”
She laughs, pressing her hands on her hips, and struggles to breathe without her lungs straining to take in oxygen—still questioning the validity in his claim.
“I just need to walk it out. Okay?”
“Sure, okay.”
They reverse the direction of their journey and the only sound is the crunching of sand beneath their shoes. But the silence isn’t awkward. It never is between them. Maybe it is a Borrower thing but there is always sound. Not audible to the ear but a buzzing, a type of white noise that does not allow for awkwardness. Whatever it is, it is comforting—to the both of them.
“So, how are things?”
“Things, are good. Great.”
“Hmm.”
Gabrian’s eyes jet across to him but they don’t linger.
“And the Shadow Walker?”
Gabrian’s mouth curls upward at the edge, revealing the humour in his question. “Still in the picture.”
Matthias waves his hand across his chest and snaps his fingers. “Just my luck.”
She bumps her shoulder into his mid-side playfully.
“And how are you?”
“I am fine, like I said.” She glances up at him but turns away. Her eyes gaze out into the distance ahead of them and pretends to focus on the signs of town just ahead.
“I see. So, wearing dark circles under your eyes is the latest fashion then?”
She sighs, remaining silent to try and find an answer.
“Because, you know they really do bring out the blue in your eyes.”
Her lids close for a moment as she gathers her courage to begin to talk. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Oh, and…”
“Or, thinking straight or…” Her voice catches in her throat as the flood gates of her emotional control head to a breaking point. Every word released from her mouth is another crack in the levy. “Or…”
Matthias slows his pace even more and then stops. His hand reaches out for Gabrian’s arm and he clasps her elbow tenderly. He doesn’t pull, but just the heat of his hand against the flesh of her arm causes her to stop. She hesitates to look at him, keeping her focus on the town ahead of her.
“Gabrian, please.” Her eyes stay glued on the “Welcome to Bar Harbor” sign, refusing to waver. “Before anything else, I am your friend. You know that, right?”
She nods in acknowledgement of his declaration.
“You can talk to me. That is what friends do.”
“I know.”
“Well?”
She presses her top teeth along the edge of her bottom lip, folding it beneath her bite. Her vision becomes blurred from the wetness pressing across her lashes from the corners. She does not want to look up at him, does not want to have to meet his supportive brown eyes with her own that are about to lie to him, again.
She wants desperately to tell him she is not eating right, that the dark sustenance of energy that she is to survive on tastes vile in her mouth—that it is painful to ingest and that she is nearly starving herself to death because she cannot stomach dark energy since she awakened from the nightmare of her father kidnapping her and attempting to kill her. Not to mention the fact she is daydreaming of sampling small strings of life essence from her own clients, a buffet of scrumptious morsels, just ripe for the picking.
“It’s just nightmares. No big deal, I am just tired.”
Her friend gives her a smile but it was much like hers—not reaching his eyes, a sign he is not convinced—but he drops it knowing she is not sharing with him the whole truth, and he will not push her. He just got her back but he will make sure to be there when she decides to.
“Nightmares, huh?” He eyes her with a light-hearted nod. “Well then, the best cure for nightmares is to not sleep and the only fix for that is an expresso.”
She looks up at him and sighs, happy to know her friend is letting her away with the lie, unchallenged.
“And the only place that has that cure for that is back in town. So, what do you say we head back and stop by the Coffee Hound for a fix of that whole nightmare thing?”
Her body expels a nervous chuckle at his cheesiness and she welcomes the relief.
“To the Coffee Hound it is then,” Matthias cheers, and pushes his fist out, pointing toward the sleepy town ahead.
“To the Coffee Hound,” Gabrian breathes out, a faint smile haunting her lips. She cannot tell him the truth. Not yet; she is not ready to see the way he may look at her. Not today. Today is just the first step to mending bridges that were broken.
Maybe tomorrow she will tell him the truth and see if he will still help her.
Maybe.
21
AWKWARD ENCOUNTER
After weeks of pushing herself through trying workdays then rushing home to finish her evenings with Shane, not to mention the occasional rendezvous with Matthias to wear down the intensity of her cravings through sparring, something dawned on her—she is not being a very good best friend to Rachael.
Rachael has been nonchalant about hinting she would like to spend some time with her but Gabrian never seems to have time to spare. Thoughts of concealing her newest tribulation of being a defective Borrower is mentally tiring. Every time Rachael enters her office to bring her a file or a message, her once illuminated smile that naturally hangs on her face does not seem to be as bright as it used to be—beginning to weigh heavy on Gabrian’s conscience and riddling her with guilt.
Sucking in a lungful of air, combined with a moment overloaded with self-loathing, Gabrian pushes herself forward out of her chair and toward the door then quickly opens it before she can change her mind.
Hearing the click of the latch as the barrier between them is breached, Rachael glances up from her paperwork and grins politely at her friend.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Can I see you for a moment in my office when you have a second?”
Rachael’s brow wrinkles in her confusion, clouding the normal sparkle in her appearance, but disappears as quickly as it appeared.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll just be a minute,” she says, lifting her pen to signify she had something to finish first before she could join her.
Gabrian nods and slides back into her office, closing the door.
Moments later, there is a light rapping on the outside of her door as Rachael edges it open and peeks in around the corner. “Is now a good time?”
Gabrian waves her hand to gesture entry and quickly jumps to closing remarks in order to engage her exit from the current phone call she is on.
Rachael steps inside and turns to close the door behind her. Standing idly by the opening, her aura switches around—an obvious sign of discomfort as she waits. Ending her call, Gabrian’s eyes land on her distant friend, watching the aura tattle on her emotional state. She calls out to her own energy and settles its desire to flare out in the awkward state of confrontation. Rachael fidgets with her long crimson curls, and Gabrian sighs, saddened by her friend’s unnatural shyness and hesitation. The old Rachael would have bounced her way across the room and landed herself onto the long chaise, snuggling up into the oversized pillows along the back. But today she is not that Rachael and it’s all Gabrian’s fault—they both know it.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Come in.” Gabrian chuckles and rolls her eyes playfully at her friend. “You’d think we barely knew each other.”
“Well, I…” Rachael begins to speak, struggling to put one foot in front of the other as she closes the distance between her and the chaise.
“I know, I know. I haven’t been exactly what you could call welcoming lately.”
Rachael’s eyes sparkle in the light when she finally sits down at the edge of her seat but it is not because she is elated about being here, it is the film of tears that glossed over her vision about to escape down her cheek. Seeing this slices at Gabrian’s heartstrings and reinforces the heftiness of the already weighted guilt that is torturing her from inside. “And I am so sorry that I haven’t been much of a friend.”
“It’s okay, Gabrian. I know that you have had a lot on your plate.” Rachael lifts her hand and wipes the dew away with the back of her hand, trying to smile.
“That is no excuse. I should be more grateful for everything you have done for me, for everything you still continue to do.”
Rachael’s face lightens a bit more and the clouds in her eyes seem to drift away from Gabrian’s tender confession. Her iridescent aura slows itself, no longer switching in an erratic pulsing flare as her shoulders lift—losing some of the burden they had carried on the way in.
“So, what’s up?” she asks, sounding more like her bubbly self, and sits back to fold her hands across her knees.
“Well, it is supposed to be really warm tomorrow.” Gabrian hesitates.
“Yes, that is what the man on the radio said,” Rachael offers, crinkling her nose in jest of her friend’s odd statement.
“And, if you will let me finish...” Gabrian scolds her friend’s sarcastic tone with a playful smirk. “I have heard a rumor that my fridge may have a shelf fully stocked with smiley pops just for such an unusual occurrence.”
Rachael’s face beams as the excitement of what meaning this conversation holds and she can barely contain her excitement. “Oh, really?” she retorts her face no longer hiding her joy.
“So, what do you say?” Gabrian leans forward in her chair and tucks her hands in under her chin, resting the weight of her head upon her elbows buried amid the pile of client files on her desk. “My house, around noon? I will even stop at the market to pick up some rabbit food for you.”
“Well, far be it from me to refuse an offer like that.” Rachael jumps from the chaise and bounds behind Gabrian’s desk in nearly one step to embrace her in a large bear hug that Gabrian does not resist. “You my dear, have a date.”
22
CHILLING EXPERIENCE
Twelve noon on the nose, there is a knock at the door. Scurrying down the stairs and out into the kitchen, Gabrian draws in a deep breath, grabbing something out of the fridge, then hurries across the wooden floor to reach for the latch on the door.
“This is going to be fun,” she murmurs to herself, forcing an unstable smile to appear on her lips. “It’s Rachael. She is your best friend. Be happy.” She exhales, pushing out all the anxiety that has been building inside her since their visit. So what if Rachael figures out that she is struggling with things? She will understand. She always understands. Pushing down on the latch with her thumb, Gabrian gives the handle a gentle tug and jars the door from its frame, allowing entrance to her friend.
“Now that is service.” Rachael grins from ear to ear at her unexpected greeting. The sight of her best friend standing before her, holding two clear bottles of beer topped with lime, throws her into a great mood.
“Nothing but the best for you.” Gabrian stretches out her arms to enhance the show of comradery and the offering therein.
Rachael shakes her head, her red tassels bouncing carelessly around her face, and reaches out, unburdening Gabrian’s hand from her frosty load. Then without a chance to retreat, she drops the cooler lodged within her grasp and leans forward, thrusting her free arm quickly around her friend, and pulls her in close—homesick for the bond that has been faded with the realities of life. She tucks her head into the crook of Gabrian’s neck and sighs. “I miss you so much,” Rachael whimpers, her voice trembling into a whisper.
“I miss you too.” Gabrian snuffs as her emotions get the better of her. She pulls away from Rachael’s momentary capture and wipes away the moisture welling up in her eyes then clears her throat. “So hurry up, get in here, and drink your drink before it gets warm.”
They both chuckle in the heartfelt moment of comic relief and let go of each other—and the tension walled up between them—to begin their trek through the kitchen, down into the living area, and straight through the French doors that lead out onto the sun-filled deck awaiting them.
Setting her cooler down beside her, Rachael stands frozen. Her eyes drift outward over the small white peaks that dance across the water in the distance before her. She gets lost watching the waves sway and shift from invisible currents pushing and pulling at it from beneath its surface, while the warm sun casts diamonds to appear periodically within the folds of its ripples.
Rachael extends out her arms in a long, exaggerated stretch, letting the sun kiss her flesh from every angle, soaking in its bountiful rays, then lowers herself onto the chair behind her and leans back onto the oversized deck pillows, absorbing the warmth of the sun tucked within it folds. She reaches down, wraps her slender, pale fingers around the neck of the cool bottle and tips back her beverage, happy to be where she is and with present company.
Smiling with genuine pleasure, Gabrian sidles up on the chair beside her and does the same. “So, what is new in the land of Rachael?”
Rachael sits up a bit and pushes her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. “Hey! Why don’t I get us set up for some lunch?” she says, jumping up from her chaise, and reaches for her cooler. She bounds to her feet then marches across the smooth, wooden deck toward the patio table and starts pulling things out of her cooler.
Gabrian shrugs at her reaction to what she thought was a pretty basic question, then climbs out of her perch and joins her at the table to help her set up. She watches as Rachael, who is draped in her long red curly tresses, continues to pull things out from the belly of the cooler, stuffing pieces of rogue veggies into her mouth that had escaped their confinements on their voyage here. Not able to contain her amusement of her friend’s peculiar eating frenzy, she bites her lip and snorts.
“You didn’t have to bring your own food, you know. I actually remembered to go to the market this time.” Gabrian winks at her and jogs across the deck, in through the French doors, and disappears into the house. Within moments, she quickly returns with an armload of pre-packed containers filled with a rainbow of salads—everything from lettuce to pasta. There is even one with some kind of mixture of fruit in it for dessert if they so choose to indulge. “See,” she says with a toothy grin, proud of her stash even though she herself will barely pick at it. Gabrian’s finicky appetite for mostly fleshy foods is what drives her cravings for sustenance, that and life energy, but she is not going to think about that today. Today is about mending fences and fun.
Rachael halts her assault on the vegetation and laughs, her mouth half-filled with evidence of the onslaught. “Well, look at you go. Were you planning on feeding an army? Holy cow, Gabe, that is one major pile of food.”
“What?” Gabrian marches proudly toward her friend and lowers everything onto the table. “Too much?” She had been in such a state of worry when she was at the market about hanging out, she couldn’t think straight about what exactly Rachael might like to snack on, so in her dismay she just picked up one of pretty much everything that looked like a deer or rabbit would eat.
“Maybe just a smidge,” Rachael teases, raising her hand, and pinches her thumb and index finger together with pursed lips.
“Oh well.” Gabrian shrugs, continuing to straighten out the containers in an orderly fashion around the eating surface. “Then there will be plenty of leftovers for you to take home with you.”
Rachael twists her face up at Gabrian through her hair.
“What? Someone has to eat it and it is highly unlike
ly it will be me.”
Remembering that Gabrian’s tastes have altered in the past six months due to her lifestyle change, she shrugs back and nods concurring. “You could always feed that mountain of a guardian you have, he looks like he could put a few tons of food away in a setting, or maybe your Uncle Tynan.”
Gabrian’s face loses its sheen for a moment as she contemplates the logic but pushes it away and tucks her loose mahogany locks behind her left ear and sighs. “Nah, Shane is into growing his own rabbit food, and Uncle Ty is never around.” She peeks over to the small guest house perched quaintly amongst a shelter of lilac trees about fifty feet to the right side of her parent’s house. “It would just go to waste. So, guess what? It’s all yours.” Gabrian forces a chuckle and glances up briefly at her friend.
Seeing the loneliness surfacing in her eyes, Rachael raises her beer to make a toast and hopefully shake the sadness out of her friend. “To a wonderful afternoon filled with sun, snacks, and silliness.”
“Cheers to that,” Gabrian hoots, raising her drink, and clinks it against Rachael’s in hopes that it will be exactly that.
They spend the next couple of hours picking away at the assorted spread of salads. Gabrian slaps a couple of steaks on the large metallic beast of a barbeque that sat lurking under the extended roof in the corner—sizzling them only long enough to hear the count of five then flips them over in order to repeat the count down again. Then she rips them from the grill and onto a white paper plate to become fair game for devouring by anyone who so chooses to rise to the challenge.
Rachael looks away and focuses on the blow boats that had made their way into the harbour earlier to stomach her own meal not dripping of blood.
They chat about work and how different it is working in a small town compared to the busy, never-sleeping city of Manhattan. Gabrian inquires more about Rachael’s gifts as a Reincarnate since the awakening—they have always focused on her dilemmas and traumas due to the fact she had never been told nor was prepared for what lies in store for her. Rachael recalls many recycles that included being a child of a band of Gypsies, to that of an elderly seamstress for royalty, but she also reveals that she always feels there is more to her story—a part of her life span that seems to be missing—but she can never figure it out or remember anything about it, not even a small detail that may help her sooth her wandering mind.
