Empress Unveiled

by Jenna Morland

We sat quietly at the edge of the balcony, looking down at the docks, our legs dangling over the edge, our elbows leaning on the lower railing. The bay was beautiful. I could never grow tired of the ocean’s majesty—of marveling at its breathtaking surface and contemplating the dark danger underneath. I envied its indifferent magnitude.

  “Swayzi,” Tyler called my name.

  “Yes?” I said, freeing myself from the spell of the ocean.

  “I called your name like five times. You good?”

  “Yeah…I’m okay,” I lied.

  “You’re not okay. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  I could see the reflection of the red moon in his eyes while he waited for a response.

  “I’m going to die, and I haven’t even lived,” I said, gently kicking my feet against the wooden pillar beneath me. Tiny flecks of wood fell to the beach below faintly clicking against the rocks.

  “You still have time,” Tyler encouraged. I doubted he even believed it himself.

  “Not enough.”

  “Is it ever enough? We get so caught up in school, work, and crap that we forget to actually live.” He was looking out at the dark night, admiring the ocean. “I imagine no matter who you are, knowing you’re going to die—it’s like milk.” He paused. “Even if I don’t feel like having a glass of milk but I open the fridge to find a looming expiration date, I chug it. Knowing it’s going to go bad, you seize the moment.” He shrugged.

  I huffed a small laugh at his strange metaphor. “Where do I start?”

  He was quiet while he contemplated my question. “We should play a game,” he finally suggested.

  “What kind of game?”

  “Truth or Dare?”

  “We haven’t played that in years.” I laughed, thinking of all the disastrous times we had played in the past. Over the years, our games became more elaborate, sometimes spanning over the course of a few weeks. Once Tyler dared me that, for an entire day, I could only speak Shakespearean. Linda thought I had completely lost my mind, I only lasted four hours. “Remember that time I dared you to wear Penelope’s swimsuit bottom to a swim meet in front of the whole school? That was epic.”

  “Cotton candy pink is my jam.” His sarcastic smile that followed always made me roll my eyes. No matter how many times I tried to fight it, without fail, my lips would find a way to lift. “Okay, you first, truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Yes, I’m absolutely terrified.”

  “Of what?”

  I sighed, my hands falling behind me onto the wooden balcony, sharp slivers nipping at my skin. I contemplated where to start—I was scared of so much.

  “I guess I’m scared of the unknown. Will I go to heaven with the pearly gates and gold harps? Will I be reincarnated as a dolphin, or will there just be nothing?” I twiddled my thumbs together anxiously. “I think that’s my biggest fear, that this is it. This is all I get.” I wiggled my feet below, so they wouldn’t lose circulation.

  “Truth or dare?” I asked, pulling my feet up and sitting cross-legged.

  “Dare.” He smirked my way.

  I looked around trying to think of something clever. Not far from where we sat was a lighthouse at the end of the bay. Just below it was another viewing area for tourists that hovered over the ocean. “Jump off that balcony into the ocean.”

  “Easy!” he said, jumping up and pulling off his shirt and jeans so he was wearing only his white Calvin Kleins. His skin was tanned from being in the sun all summer, his swimmer shoulders broad, his body lean and tight even though he lived off Kraft Dinner and donuts from the café.

  I squinted in the darkness, using the light from the lighthouse to follow his white underwear. He ran in his bare feet along the edge of the tree line to the top of the cliff, and without question, he climbed the fence that lined the balcony. With his hands above his head, and his feet balancing on the thin wood, he expertly dove into the freezing cold ocean. There was a split second where I tensed when he didn’t come up fast enough, but then he shot out of the water, shaking the water from his hair.

  Out of nowhere, a wave crashed over Tyler’s head, and I jumped at the sound of the old fisherman docks banging against each other from the incoming swell. A second wave caused a portion of the rotting wood to break off and drift into the bay. I watched, holding my breath, as Tyler swam skillfully through the choppy waves.

  He ran out of the foamy surf, across the glass covered sand below and used his hands to climb up the steep slope of rocks towards me. He was huffing trying to catch his breath and shivering from the cold water at the same time.

  “Whoa, that sure picked up fast,” Tyler said, catching his breath and looking at the sudden swell below.

  “I give you a four on that dive,” I teased. “Your feet weren’t even locked together.”

  Tyler rolled his eyes and grabbed his pants, and I fell back looking up at the stars. “Your skills are slippin’, Ty,” I heckled as he got dressed. Once done, he lay down next to me, our feet still swinging freely off the edge of the balcony. I could smell a hint of rain. A storm was brewing.

  “That was at least a seven.” His breathing slowed to a normal pace, despite a small shiver. “Truth or dare?”

  “Dare.”

  After a moment, he turned his head to look at me, his wet hair dripping down his cheek that rested on the weathered wood. He wore a faint smile, and I searched his eyes, confused, waiting for him to say something.

  “I dare you to kiss me,” he said calmly. If he hadn’t seemed so sure, I would have thought he was joking. In shock, I sat up too quickly, instantly getting a head rush. I rubbed my eyes, waiting for them to adjust, when there was a sudden burst of white light.

  “Ahhh!” I screamed, covering my eyes.

  Tyler put his hand on my shoulder, and I blinked waiting to catch a glimpse of him. Finally, the flash of light faded. I could see Tyler’s mouth moving, but I couldn’t make out any words.

  My eyes were still readjusting when more fog began spreading along the shore and across the bay. I stood up, watching the storm surge cover the beach below us, the waves crashing wildly against the rocks below, the balcony swaying beneath us.

  The eclipsed moon was hidden behind the dark clouds, making our surroundings even more ominous. The only break from the dark was the constant circle of light from the lighthouse that barely hovered long enough to lend any comfort.

  When the lighthouse circled around to the dock below us I sucked in a short breath. I rubbed my eyes again, wiping away the water that had formed from the blinding light.

  “Do you see that?” I asked Tyler pointing at the docks.

  “See what? There’s a storm coming. We should go.”

  There were six figures standing at the end of the dock. I couldn’t make out what they were doing, just that it seemed like a few of them were losing their balance. Or maybe someone was pushing them around? I waited for the light in the lighthouse to circle the dock a few more times before I frantically asked, “The people, on the docks. You don’t see them?”

  “No, I don’t see anyone. What’s wrong? Is it the meds? Look, I was just kidding about the whole kiss thing—”

  “I thought those docks weren’t safe to be on—you seriously don’t see anyone down there?” I pointed to the docks again and watched as three men in what looked like military uniforms forced three other people to their knees at the edge of the dock. Their hands were cuffed in front just below their waist. It looked like a choreographed dance when the uniformed men reached for their swords.

  I only had to blink three times before the lighthouse lit up the dock again. The three on their knees were obviously related, having the same distinct sharp features. The girl’s hair was the color of the finest red wine.

  Blink, blink, blink. She looked at the boy next to her with long wavy hair falling over his face and shoulders. They looked like they were speaking to one another, though their mouths never moved. Still o
n their knees, the two of them looked up to the sky peacefully. It looked like they were ready to die.

  Blink, blink, blink. Then I saw the other boy. The light from the lighthouse had hovered on him for only a second, but that was long enough.

  He was breathtakingly beautiful.

  His pale skin was unnaturally flawless like it had been edited in Photoshop. His shoulders were broad, and his hair was an exquisite brown—the color of melting dark chocolate.

  Tyler was mumbling something in frustration, but I ignored him.

  The men in the military uniforms said something I couldn’t hear over the crashing waves, their long silver swords each touching their respective prisoner’s neck. The boy’s eyes followed his siblings and looked to the sky, making his neck vulnerable to the blade. When the men pulled their swords back to execute their prisoners, something in me snapped. My instinct to protect this beautiful boy was uncontrollable. I screamed an earth-shattering cry.

  He looked right at me, and time stopped. With that one look, our connection was so intense it felt like my life was suddenly tethered to his. His face wore the strangest expression of shock and confusion—it was wonder.

  Then it all happened so fast. Tyler picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. Losing sight of the boy below, I pushed my hands against Tyler’s back, struggling to catch a glimpse of the dock one last time.

  The uniformed men were now prone and lifeless on the docks with the other three standing over them. The boy paused for a moment to look at me one last time before the three of them held their shackled hands above their heads and gracefully dove into the ocean, disappearing under the choppy seas.

  The sun peeked in through my blinds, shining on the tangle of pillows and blankets scattered across the bed and floor from my tossing and turning.

  “Morning Baby,” Linda chimed while pushing my bedroom door open.

  I groaned, “Morning.” My throat was scratchy from the blood curdling scream I belted last night.

  “Oh em gee, are you hungover?” She sat down on the edge of my bed, scanning me up and down.

  “What? No.” I shook my head at her.

  “I heard you sneak out last night. I’m assuming I have Tyler to thank for that.”

  “Yes, I was with Tyler. Don’t give him trouble though, it was my idea.”

  “Okay, one—it most definitely was not your idea. It’s almost like you forget I raised you guys. Two, I was being one hundred percent genuine—I want to thank him. One of the reasons we left the hospital was so you could actually live the rest of your life.”

  I dipped my head not wanting to make eye contact with her. It was hard to believe we had left the hospital only yesterday. We still hadn’t talked about my break down, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I was mad at myself for ever thinking anything negative about Linda. She was, and always would be nothing short of amazing.

  Which was precisely the reason my first instinct should have been to tell Linda about the boy at the dock. She would never judge me. She certainly wouldn’t send me to a mental institution like she probably should. It had felt so real. The flash of light, the sudden storm, the way his soul called to me like I saved him somehow. My heart raced thinking about the ocean swallowing him when he jumped. I touched my chest remembering the heartbreaking pain I felt when Tyler carried me away from him. Tyler. He tried to kiss me.

  “Baby”—Linda gently touched my arm calling my attention—“is there something you want to tell me?”

  Yes. I should have said yes.

  “No, I’m good.” I mustered the best fake smile I could.

  I adjusted myself, gathering my legs up under me, and winced at the dull burning ache of my atrophied muscles from lying in a hospital bed all summer. The sharp pain in my back was relentless, and the inability to catch my breath was a constant reminder of how unhealthy I really was.

  Linda’s eyes widened at my quiet cry of pain, and I instantly regretted making any sound at all. Her messy auburn hair fell over her eyes. She was unable to conceal her agony at watching my eternal suffering. After everything we had been through, all the tests, the procedures, all leading to a parent’s worst nightmare.

  Her freckles wiggled when she scrunched her nose, her eyes slowly travelling over every inch of my body—assessing the damage.

  “Linda, I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Okay, well, I need to get to the café. Tyler is giving me a ride on his way to school. You can have the Wagoneer today. There’s bacon and eggs in the fridge for you. Eat something.”

  “Okay, Linda. I’ll come see you later,” I promised.

  “Make sure you take your meds.” She tipped her chin at my nightstand and gave me a swift kiss on the forehead before leaving my bedroom.

  “I love you!” she shouted from down the stairs.

  “I love you more!” I called back, unable to suppress my smile.

  I looked at the nightstand to find a plastic shooter glass full of pills and a glass of water next my homemade fairy garden lantern. I picked out the pink Formalthinaxin and placed it under my pillow, then stuffed the rest of the pills in my mouth before drinking the water. After what I had seen at the docks, I refused to take any more Formalthinaxin.

  My eyes fluttered, still adjusting to the morning sun. Despite the bright light, my lantern was still on with the fairy smiling at me with her familiar warm glow. Above her, glowing white lights lay strung across my wall. I gently rubbed my swollen eyes from last night’s breakdown and looked at the printed snapshots hanging from the cords by clothespins. Most of the pictures were of Tyler and Penelope and the three of us together during summers past. Next to them, Penelope had scribbled a quote on my wall with permanent marker. “It’s never too late to be what you might have been—George Elliot”. Next to the quote, she drew several black birds cascading up the wall, behind my bed, and towards the window. She told me the black birds would protect me.

  Under Penelope’s words, Tyler scribbled his own illegible message. “To Do: Live.” The marker was faded now. He had written that years ago after I underwent my first round of chemo.

  I sluggishly wriggled my way out of bed wearing only a nighty. I slid on my slippers and grunted my way down the stairs. The house was quiet without Linda in it.

  I opened the fridge, uncovered the bacon and eggs, and set them in the microwave while I poured myself a cup of coffee.

  I sipped coffee and wandered around the kitchen. It still looked the same: the wood slab table in the center with four different colored chairs surrounding it and my grandmother’s small white kettle doubling as a flower vase in the middle. Penelope had picked the flowers that were on display. I poured a glass of water into the doleful plant near the window. It was on the brink of death after being neglected all summer.

  My eyes followed the rays of warm sunlight out the patio door into the backyard. At the center of the yard, crowned by the sun, was my tree. Among all the trees in the yard, this was my favorite. The Royal Empress Tree was the only one of its kind in our small town, and it towered over our yard, growing six feet every year. The purple pedals would fall to our yard creating a beautiful purple blanket across the grass, and new flowers would bloom in their place. That tree was unlike any other, it bloomed all year round and when it was at its healthiest, it stood eighty two feet tall, shading our house and the entire back yard. It stopped blooming a few years before, and Tyler’s dad, Tom, suggested cutting it down. Both Linda and I protested. To us, there was no other like it, and even though it was dead, there was still something about the tree that felt…magical.

  But mostly, I loved the Royal Empress Tree because of what Linda had told me. It was planted when I was born. That tree was as old as I was, and I felt at peace knowing it would stand even after I was gone.

  I opened the patio door. The cold, damp grass tickled my bare feet as I walked towards the tree. The greyish-brown bark was smooth and shiny from the morning dew.
So many of my favorite memories involved this tree. In the spring, lovely pink and lavender blossoms would attract deer, rabbits, and birds to our yard. The blossoms would slowly turn a vibrant royal purple and would remain that way for the rest of the year. We would have picnics under the tree in the summer and read books in the hot sun with my back resting against the bumpy trunk. I missed the lively energy the tree used to have, the feeling of life’s perennial flourishing.

  I gasped when I felt a pinch in my chest like someone had a death grip on my windpipe. I took a deep breath and began coughing, my lungs unable to take in enough air. My eyes watered when I struggled to breathe, my chest pumping quickly trying to force air into my lungs. Deep, slow breaths relaxed my body, giving me some relief. Then, with my hand and cheek touching the damp, bumpy bark, I leaned against the tree and closed my eyes. From afar, I probably looked like a lunatic, hugging a tree, but in truth, it put me at ease.

  The boy from the dock popped into my mind. That face and those eyes. His look had burned a permanent home in my memory. It was obviously a hallucination, but I couldn’t get over how real it felt. How in that split second we had this indescribable connection, like for just a moment, time had completely stopped.

  I stepped away from the tree, shaking my head, trying to forget his face. Maybe I am a lunatic. I began walking back toward the house, but something told me to turn around, as if the tree itself was calling to me to take one last look. When I did, I noticed something I hadn’t seen in years. A small lavender blossom bloomed at the end of one of the tree branches. Had that been there this whole time? I smiled at the familiar sight from my childhood. Perhaps the tree was healthier than we thought. I couldn’t wait to tell Linda.

  Not taking my eyes off the blossom, I stepped backwards into the kitchen and bumped the table next to the patio door. Piles of paperwork scattered on the floor. There were bills, hospital forms, and letters from the insurance company—all of them stamped with the same bold, red letters: past due.

  I knelt down to clean up the mess. The sheer number of delinquent notices was staggering. One letter in particular told it plainly: all the claims Linda had submitted to the insurance company had been declined. I was to blame.