by Mandi Lynn
I wish I could suffer this alone, but my family also has to. My mom, knowing there is no afterlife for me. The rest of my family and friends, thinking that I’m dead and that maybe I have found Heaven. Kenzie, I brought her into this life; if it weren’t for me, she would still be alive. Kenzie’s parents, they only had her for three years. Three short years; years I’m sure they will never forget. Soon they will find the body of their only daughter, and their world will be torn. Then there’s Eliza; she stuck with me through all of this. Already she has suffered so much with the loss of her own family.
I spend the rest of the day with my mom. We do chores around the house for fun—though I would have never said that before my life ended. It feels so good to spend time together. She washes, I dry. We work alongside each other to dust the small nooks and crannies that never get enough attention, and unpack boxes—the ones that I thought would never find a place. We sort through the remaining moving boxes, getting caught up in memories. One of the boxes is filled with my mom’s china from her wedding—she tells me all about it, even goes to get some pictures to show me.
Another box is filled with small infant clothing, old and worn. I see a tear running down my mom’s face. She excuses herself quickly to go to the bathroom. Approaching the box, I see exactly what my mom had collected. The contents are baby pictures, toys, and more clothes. They were mine. Little booties and onesies.
There is a photo of the day I was born, surrounded by wires and gauze taped to my small body in the NICU. Machines are around me, keeping my tiny beating heart alive and feeding me oxygen.
There’s another photo; this one shot in the front yard of our old Florida home. My entire family stands around me; I’m only a few weeks old—this must have been when they took me home from the hospital.
I’m in my mom’s arms, but she isn’t looking at the camera. She holds me with the gentlest arms, looking down into my bright blue eyes. A little tuft of hair is on my head, and my grandma is standing to my mom’s right side with a little pink hat, about to place it on my head—she doesn’t know the picture is being taken.
My dad—the only one in the photo conscious of the camera—smiles as he holds up one of my small hands with his finger, triumphant. My grandpa has his hand on my grandma’s shoulder, as he looks down at me with the same expression as my mom.
My small face is looking toward my dad while he holds my hand, and my face is almost comical. My eyes are half closed, and my mouth is wide open—it’s hard to tell whether I was crying or yawning.
My mom walks back in, and I hold out the picture to her. “Do you miss when I was little?”
My mom sits beside me and takes the photo. She stares at it for a while before answering me. “Of course I do, but everybody grows up. I knew you would leave someday, just not so soon. Parents don’t want to think of the day their kids move out. I wasn’t ready for your death.”
She puts her hand out to me, and it passes through my shoulder. I try not to notice the wince, as she backs away from me. How is it that I can hold physical things—like this photo—but not come into contact with living things? It’s not fair.
Beside me I hear my mom sigh, realizing we are on separate realms now. “But I want you to know I can take care of myself, Emma. I don’t regret you telling me what happened, but you need to let go too. Someday I’m going to be gone, and so is your father. You need to keep yourself safe, not us. I love you, Emma, but you need to prepare yourself for that day.
“You’ll be alive for the rest of eternity. Time will fly for you. I don’t know which breath is my last, so make sure you’re ready.” She brushes a tear from her eye and continues. “I couldn’t handle the thought of you being gone, but you’re going to have to be stronger than me, Emma.”
Now I’m the one who needs to let go. And she’s right; she’ll be gone someday. I told my mom my secret, because I thought she needed me, but it was the other way around—I needed her.
“You need to savor your time, Emma. Forever is just a fraction of infinity. Don’t waste it.” She hands me back the photo. “Keep it. Always remember us.”
Why does it sound like she’s saying good-bye?
“I’ll never forget you, Mom.” When the words form from my mouth, it sounds like I’m crying. I take a deep breath so my mom can understand me. “No matter what. I’ll always be watching you—even if you forget. I’m not going to leave you until I have to,” I say, clutching the picture; the one of my family that will remain in the physical world even after they’ve passed.
“Oh, Emma.”
In her eyes I can see her ache to embrace me, but her body doesn’t make the forward movement, like she’s done so many times before forgetting I’m just an Essence.
“You don’t have to leave, if you don’t want to. I just want you to know it will happen someday. Until then you can visit as much as you want.”
We just look at each other for the longest moment. It is the first time I have ever really looked at life. I know, from this point on, I will never overlook a sunset. Never hate the rain. For I know that life is too precious to be looked at with a mere glance. It’s meant to be treasured and remembered.
My life has been torn, but I can appreciate this small moment. Even if we can’t touch each other, we can be together. My mom can see me, and I can still talk to her. I’m not alone—I have Eliza. I will need her even more someday. I only hope I will be ready then. That I can take on the death of my parents and appreciate all the moments we had together. I know it will be hard, and it won’t be easy, but my mom is right—forever is a long time; it should not be wasted.
Someday this will all be forgotten. My mom will become old and will forget, but I won’t. I’ll always be watching my parents. Even when they leave, I’ll remember them, even when the rest of the world doesn’t.
I look over to the small bookshelf and see that there are new books with their bindings creased from reading. My mom notices me looking.
“I like the way they make the impossible happen. How you can escape to a whole other world. It makes you think.”
I smile at her before we go back to cleaning.
When we finish the last of the household chores, my mom finds a movie and puts it in. It’s some musical, but even though neither of us like the movie, we both enjoy talking about it and making jokes.
It’s a fun day—one I haven’t had in a long time.
Chapter 19
Mackenzie
Kenzie adjusts as much as she can without parents. She loves everyone in Phantom Lagoon. They seem happy to have her here too. She lights up the area with a new glow that keeps everyone awake and alert—mostly because if they don’t, Kenzie will find a way to get into trouble.
You can tell though, in her eyes, something isn’t right. Sometimes I’ll catch her just watching, staring out into oblivion waiting for her parents. The way she rubs her eyes, waiting for the tears that don’t come. Her body will quake, but she never falls from her sorrow. She’s the little stranger that followed me to Phantom Lagoon because she thought I was hurt. She’s a strong soul.
That doesn’t change the fact she’s in pain. She misses her family and friends. We try our best to make her feel more at home. Luna comes out and sets up the area so it looks like a classroom and tells stories. Some are so original and detailed that you can’t believe she’s making them up as she goes along. Her stories are about mythical creatures whose hands are webbed. They have wings arching from their backs—not for flying but for swimming. They don’t hunt animals though. They act as fertilizers; eating the sand and spitting it out, as it is filled with minerals. They are called Defenders. In Luna’s story they protect a pond, much like Phantom Lagoon, from anyone who strays into the area.
Today Luna lets Kenzie choose what the story will be about—the Defenders, monsters, and Fairies.
“Angels! Like what I am!” Kenzie says in the happiest voice you can imagine.
Luna looks up at Eliza and smiles. She begins to tell the story just as Eliza
had but with more detail and magic. At the same time she also makes it seem so real, as if it is true.
While Kenzie is enticed by the story, Eliza takes me to the side so nobody can hear.
“Kenzie’s parents are looking for her. They need to find the body so they can know the truth.” I take a deep breath. I knew this was coming, but I was hoping it could be avoided somehow.
“Okay, I guess there’s no way around it.” I start to walk toward the cave where the bodies are kept. Eliza follows and helps me find Kenzie’s body. Hers is deep in the crystal cave, a few feet away from where my body had been. Her abandoned human body is curled into a ball, thumb in mouth. If it weren’t for the fact that I know that Kenzie is outside with Luna, I would have thought this was her right before my eyes. I cradle the body in my arms, the small child feeling light. Eliza walks in front of me as we head out of the cave, keeping watch to make sure Kenzie won’t see us.
Just as my human body had, once we leave the safe quarters of the cave, Kenzie’s body begins to decompose. Her limbs stiffen and an odor emits from her skin. Her body grows heavy in my arms, as if weighed down by death in its truest forms.
Eliza and I walk, our gazes forward and away from the body of the girl that we think of as a sister.
“What’s the plan?” Eliza asks once we are out of sight of the lagoon. We had been walking in silence for a long time, waiting to be sure Kenzie had no way of finding her body.
“You’re helping me?” I ask, stunned. It’s not that I don’t expect her to help; more that I thought this wasn’t something that was her obligation, like it was for me.
“Of course, she’s my little sister too. Her parents have the police scanning the area around the campsite.” Eliza stops for a second, imagining Kenzie’s body as her family discovers the death. “A broken leg…and we put her at the end of a pond. So it looks like she fell and tried to swim out.”
We search the forest for a pond that has a small cliff and large rocks at the bottom. A mile away from the campsite we stop and make our plan.
There’s an area nearby that has a drop-off that leads to water. It isn’t deep but has large jutting rocks in it. Once the police find the body, they can put the pieces together.
They will think Kenzie had wondered off during the night and got lost. It was dark, so she couldn’t see her way. She walked off a ledge and fell into the cold water. The drop was short, but Kenzie’s frail bones couldn’t withstand the impact, and she broke her leg. She tried to swim to the shore, but the pain in her broken leg slowed her down. Kenzie was able to get to dry land but suffered from a broken leg and hypothermia. She died later that night in her sleep, her heart slowing with each beat.
I’m frozen in place staring at Kenzie’s deathbed. I feel Eliza take the body from my hands and walk toward the edge. I robotically step backward toward the safety of the trees.
What we are doing is crazy: staging a death. We have to give the appearance of an end to this little girl’s human life and break any connections with her family. This is the only way to do it. It feels cruel but somehow human. But most of all it’s quick, effortless. It is the easiest way to give bad news—blunt, harsh, and to the point.
“You might want to cover your eyes,” Eliza says in a monotone.
She kisses the forehead of Kenzie’s body and hugs her. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, and there’s a catch in her voice as she prepares to give Kenzie’s body away. I close my eyes and turn around, so I won’t see. I still hear the sound though—the loud thud and then the snap of the leg. It echoes in my head over and over, getting louder and more distinct with each repetition, leaving the memory to haunt me.
I open my eyes to see Eliza, face pale, walking down toward the pond. She drags Kenzie’s mangled and bloody body from the pond and lays it on the sand, still half in the water, facing down. Just seconds ago she had been in my arms sucking her thumb—the picture of peace.
“Now they just have to find it.” Eliza looks at me, seeing if she should also be the one to haunt the police.
“I can do it,” I tell her.
We walk through the trees and toward the campsite. As we come closer, we hear police talking, still looking for Kenzie. From the short distance between us and the police officers, I can see they are examining the area for any clues as to which direction Kenzie might have gone. Her parents aren’t there. The only humans there are a few stray policemen talking to each other, writing notes.
Eliza hides near a tree, while I approach one of the men from behind, stepping inside. I imagine being alive, the rise and fall of a human chest, the brisk wind that lingers in the air. The next thing I know, I don’t have to imagine it; it’s there.
She has to be here somewhere. Poor parents…
The feeling of haunting is…something I can’t describe. I’m alive again, the blood pumping through my veins, the heat from the sun warming. I can feel everything again. It’ so easy to become distracted in the sea of life, but I have something I need to do.
“Turn around,” I tell him, fiercely. The human emotions surprise me. I take on the man’s essence, his agitation of another case of a missing person. “Now.”
He gives way quickly, following my orders.
“Let me control your feet,” I command.
I feel his feet go limp as I take control. With his influence gone, I feel my agitation subside as the police officer’s mind fades into the background. It’s almost too easy to gain control, but then I realize it’s because he’s eager to close this case and end the long day. He relinquishes all his body unto me, and I almost fall to the ground with the surprise of the weight. Soon I’m able to control every muscle in his legs, becoming comfortable with the feeling of being alive.
Unaware I’m in their presence, the police continue their search, while I watch from the eyes of one of the officers. The body is nearby—a few feet to the left—and the pond is right there behind the trees. There’s a hesitance in me as the police wander the area. Even though I know the body is just feet away, I don’t want them to find Kenzie; I don’t want her parents to have to hear the news.
The man I haunt begins to walk in the opposite direction I need him to go. A spike of anger grows in me, and I grow aggravated with human emotion—why is this man so upset? I fill his lungs with air and stop walking. Thinking of Kenzie’s human body, waiting at the edge of the pond, I feel tears run down my face.
It’s an amazing thing to have someone cry for you. In this man’s body, I occupy him for just a moment, but it’s a moment that allows me to feel human. As an Essence I cannot cry, but here, here I am normal.
I pivot the man’s body to the pond, allowing his eyes to close. I struggle for a moment to leave this body where my emotions are expressed truly, but I pull myself away, as if peeling off a Band-Aid in slow agony. I don’t let myself think about what will happen after I say the words, “Look there.”
I leave, feeling the emptiness that accompanies me when I regain the form of an Essence. My world goes blind to the human sense of touch and other automatic functions of the living. The ground beneath me can’t be felt even though my feet are clearly making contact. The wind blows my hair, but my skin doesn’t feel its cold kiss.
Running to the tree that Eliza is hiding behind, I’m too far away to hear what the police officers are saying. I can see them talking into their walkie-talkies, and soon more police show up. They come prepared with a gurney, and more sirens scream out in help from the far distance.
Eliza and I both stand frozen as they remove the body. The police walk away to where the road must have been to meet with the coming ambulance—it all happens so fast. After a few minutes Eliza steps out from behind the tree.
“Do you want to see her parents?” she asks, wrapping her arms around her body, as if to shield herself from the winds that no longer buffet us.
I look in the direction the police went. “No, but I think I should.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
I can tell she doesn’t want to by the way her arms cling to her sides in what can only be described as fear. The police are something she can only associate with her father’s absence. They were there when he disappeared, and they were there when her mother got into a car accident that later took her life.
“No, I caused this,” I say, trying to dismiss her to go back to Phantom Lagoon.
“You didn’t do anything, Emma,” she replies almost instantly, but in a quiet voice like she’s tired of trying.
I look away from her, avoiding eye contact. “I’ve gotten off pretty easy so far. I think I can deal with this one thing.” I walk away from Eliza and follow the trail the police had left behind. Eliza stands there for a while staring, not sure if she should follow or not. In the end she must have gone back to Phantom Lagoon, because there is no sign of her as I look behind me, making my way to the road.
As the trees disappear, the open line of asphalt lies before me. I can hear cars in the distance and sirens whine as they fly back into town with Kenzie’s body on its way to the hospital morgue to be studied and evaluated to find her cause of death.
I shrink backward into the woods to keep a constant cover in the trees. The siren of police cars guides me to Kenzie’s home. They drive fast, but another passes, giving me a direction to follow. After walking a short distance, I stumble across a small yellow house with a large backyard. People stand outside talking quietly, and others are just arriving to try to console. Some are on the phone, looking shocked as they tell someone the tragic story. A woman walks toward the door to comfort Kenzie’s parents, but then she walks back to the front yard.
It’s obvious I arrived after the police. The news has already been told, and the worst of it is over. I can still hear the crying, the pain in the voice of Kenzie’s mother, with her father offering comfort. It is all concealed in that small house.
I creep through the forest going around to the back of the house. Through the window I view the scene like it is a movie, numb and oblivious to the reality. Her mother’s head is buried in her husband’s shoulder. He is patting her back while she cries—it is hard to tell, but he too is crying. You can see the silent tears slipping down his face. The mother’s pain is very clearly displayed on her face; she is still sobbing.
