chapter 5
The light turns red, and I ease on the brake until I stop. The streets are summertime quiet, a lazy pace the farther I get from the beach. A tingling starts in my toes. A warmth that climbs up my legs, over my arms. The heat brightens into pain, and I wince. I glance in my rearview mirror, and then roll through the light to turn on to a side street and park at the curb.
“Ow,” I murmur, resting my head against the steering wheel while I hold my gut. It’s like a cramp, but stronger. I don’t have a phone, so I can’t call my mom. I measure my breaths, hoping it will pass, but the pain only seems to get stronger.
I have to get out of the car. Somehow I know I have to escape. I straighten up and unclick my seat belt. With the movement, my pain seems to ease. I climb out of the car and walk to the sidewalk—drawn forward. I look around the street, searching for an explanation even though I know there isn’t one. What’s happening to me?
My eyes sting with tears as fear begins to make me tremble. I stagger over to the bus stop and drop down on the bench. I put my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands as my heart pounds. Just then, I feel someone sit down next to me.
A wind blows over me, and I turn sideways and see Miriam Kemper, clutching her purse in her lap. Her face is wrinkled with deep lines, her navy dress baggy on her thin frame. I’ve known Miriam most of my life—she was a volunteer at the library until her husband died six months ago. And then, just as she lifts her watery blue eyes, I’m struck with a vision.
No, not again. Before I can fight it, I’m submerged in Miriam’s life as if I’m there.
Miriam is lying in bed with her husband of forty years. It’s dark, the only light from the small TV on the dresser playing an infomercial. She hears the cough, the thickness—the choking. Samuel has been suffering from emphysema for close to a year, but now he’s bedridden and without a voice. Miriam’s taken on the role of nurse, and clicks the lamp on the side table before grabbing the inhaler.
In front of me now, Miriam closes her eyes, and tears spill onto her cheeks. She thinks back on that night, and I’m there with her.
Miriam turns to her husband, and his eyes lock on hers—pleading and desperate. His look begs her to let him go, to let him finally have peace.
“Don’t you leave me,” Miriam murmurs, her lips quivering with the start of a cry. Samuel, unable to talk, only reaches to take her hand—a hand that held his for forty years—his body shaking with the coughs he tries to hold in.
She has a choice then. Instead of putting the inhaler to his mouth, forcing medication into his lungs, Miriam Kemper curls up next to her husband and feels his arms around her one last time. She cries into the warmth of his nightshirt until his coughing finally subsides. Until all is quiet and his arm falls away.
“Oh, Miriam,” I whisper, feeling the guilt the way she does. The crushing sense of final loss, the shroud of doubt. But beyond that is a message, something I have to tell Miriam—even though it’s not really from me. “It’s what he wanted,” I say, trying to soothe her pain and alleviate her guilt. “He loved you very much.”
I move to put my hand on her shoulder, and she winces as if my touch hurts her.
“I’m all alone,” she weeps. “I can’t make it without my Samuel.”
“You will.” There’s so much energy racing through me, it’s making me dizzy. I want to pull away, but I can’t. Miriam has to listen. If she doesn’t, she’ll die. “Samuel would want you to move on,” I tell her. “To have a life. You have to love him enough to let him go now.”
She’s crying, but suddenly . . . I feel it. She’s listening, accepting what I’ve told her. Miriam knows she has to keep living her life, but her grief had overwhelmed her. This small respite has given her clarity.
Miriam sniffles hard, smoothing back her hair. I lower my arm, and the pain that had built up, the energy, dissolves. I expect Miriam to turn to me, ask what just happened. But before I try to explain, warmth and euphoria spread over me, making me sway on the bench. The hot, searing pain in the back of my neck has faded away. After a moment, I turn to Miriam again. She’s gathered herself, looking as if she’s ready to leave.
“I’m sorry,” I say, worried I’ve frightened her. Miriam casts a confused glance around the street and then seems just to notice me. “Oh, hi, honey,” she says, her voice still thick from crying. “Do you know what time it is?”
Is she not going to ask what’s going on? I’m freaking out, but Miriam doesn’t appear concerned. “Uh,” I fumble, taking a long moment to answer. “It’s about one thirty, I guess.”
Miriam smiles, and reaches to pat my arm. “Well, then I better get home. I think I’ll go see my son in Denver. Tell your mother and father I said hello.” She stands, pulling her purse strap over her shoulder. And then she leaves.
I stare after her, my heart racing. My fingers still tingling. This is the second time this has happened. First with Tanner, now with Miriam. Am I psychic? Am I crazy? Tears well up, and I’m scared. Am I scared enough to tell my parents? What if they don’t believe me? What if they think—
I get up from the bench and run for my car. I turn the ignition, wishing I had a phone. My parents are probably at the bakery with River. Ezra and Soleil are at his house. I don’t know where to go, so I drive back to my house. I’ll be alone, and I’m terrified to be alone.
But I’m not crazy.
The minute I get home, I turn on my laptop and begin researching. I type in every symptom, every sensation—but nothing fits exactly. Instead it seems like I could have a million different disorders, diseases. Rather than comfort me, the internet has made me more terrified. I click the laptop shut and start toward my room. My head is foggy, and I won’t let myself cry anymore.
I’m going to sleep this off. When I wake up, I’ll talk to my mom and dad. They’ll know what to do. But I can’t discuss it right now. My body is worn down, exhausted. I climb up on my bed and hug the pillow close to me. When I wake up, it’ll make sense. I know it’ll make sense.
I’m standing in front of the Costas Bakery, but I don’t go inside. I know the doors are locked, even though I can’t remember if I tried the handle. The weather is warm and breezy on my bare legs, and I look down, surprised to see myself wearing a plaid uniform skirt. I don’t own anything like this.
I notice then my reflection in the glass door. It takes me a minute to realize it’s me: the blond hair, the freckles. An entirely different face. I step toward the door, outstretch my hand until I touch the glass, surprised it’s cold despite the warm air. I trace her . . . my features. She’s so familiar, but her image fills me with despair. Loneliness. Behind my reflection I notice him, watching sadly as he waits.
“Harlin,” I call softly, my heart swelling at the sight of him. I love him. I feel it in my soul. I love Harlin more than anything in the world. But the reflection is beginning to fade, and I bang my hand on the glass, devastated at the thought of losing him again.
“Don’t wake up,” I tell myself. “Please don’t wake up.”
I gasp awake, the light outside the window set at dusk. For a moment, I can still see Harlin, still remember my face. But as I sit up, turn on my light—the dream slips away, leaving only a vague sense of loneliness. The house is still quiet when I walk out into the living room, and I’m perplexed as to where my family is. We don’t have a house phone, haven’t needed it since we all have cell phones. Or at least we did.
Ezra’s probably wondering where I am right now. Even though I doubt they’re still at the pool, I go back to my room to grab my swimsuit and then head out the door. The incident with Miriam seems far off now, like it happened to someone else. As the fear tries to creep back in, I decide not to let it. If I act normal, then I’ll be normal.
I’m going to find my boyfriend. I’m going to spend time with my best friend. I’m going to work my job at the Costas Bakery. That’s how I’ll make all this craziness go away.
I drive over to Ezra’s and immediately notice that Soleil’s car is gone. I park and knock on Ezra’s front door, the sky quickly darkening into night. No one answers, so I knock again, wondering if he and Soleil went for dinner.
Uneasy thoughts are itching at the back of my mind, wanting to call up the moments with Tanner and Miriam, so I move quickly and get back in the Jeep. I consider dropping by the bakery to see if my family is still there, prepping for tomorrow. It’s weird that they’d still be at the shop, but I can’t imagine where they’d go out and not tell me.
I start driving aimlessly, turning up the radio to distract myself. I take a right on Sycamore Road and realize that I’m near the movie theater. Maybe Lucy’s still there. Or if she’s done, maybe she’ll want to hang out for a while.
I park in the no-man’s-land section of the lot and start my trek toward the theater. When I push open the glass door, the smell of popcorn offers immediate comfort. I love the movies, especially this theater. It’s old and the seats are kind of uncomfortable, but there’s charm in the lack of updating. Vintage posters and old projectors are part of the decor.
The concession stand is in the front before the ticket office, and I notice Lucy right away. She’s wearing a red-and-white-striped shirt with a visor. It’s hysterical. I’m going to tease her about it when she looks up and sees me. I expect her to laugh, but instead she presses her lips together, looking concerned. She whispers to the boy next to her, and he leaves to go in the back.
“I’ve been trying to reach you,” Lucy says, sounding pained. “I called the bakery a few times. Your brother said he hadn’t seen you.”
“I fell asleep. Why? Are you okay?”
Lucy’s expression is so foreboding that my stomach starts to knot. She reaches across the glass to take my hand, startling me. An aching sort of sickness floods me.
“Ezra’s here,” she says in a low voice. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, Claire. But he’s here with that friend of yours. What’s her name?”
I swallow down the acidic taste that crawls up my throat, anger starting to rise inside of me. “Are you talking about Soleil?”
Lucy’s eyes narrow slightly. “Yes. He’s here with Soleil. I spoke to them when they came in.” She tilts her head, examining my eyes. “I’m not sure they remembered me from last night, because if they did—they sure didn’t try to hide it.”
My breath catches. “Hide what?”
Lucy shakes her head like she can’t go on and releases her grip on my hand. I step back, upset. “Lucy,” I say loudly, “hide what?”
She shrugs sadly. “They’re in theater four.”
I glance down the hallway, and then back at her. Is she . . . is Lucy saying that Ezra and Soleil are here together together? Is my boyfriend cheating on me with my best friend? My eyes begin to sting with tears, and I can barely hear Lucy call my name as I start toward the theater. It’s not true. I refuse to believe it’s true.
Yanking open the door, I’m momentarily blinded in the darkness. When my eyes adjust, I notice them halfway up the aisle on the right. They’re sitting next to each other. Are they too close?
Fury builds under my skin, and I think about yesterday when Soleil called. When she called Ezra’s phone. Was she even looking for me? How long has this been going on? I choke on an angry cry and head down the aisle. Lucy was right. They aren’t even trying to hide it.
When I stop at the end of their row, it takes a minute for Soleil to look over. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and she immediately passes the bucket of popcorn to Ezra, startling him from the movie.
“Where have you been?” she whispers to me, seeming shocked. As if she has the right to ask when she’s here with my boyfriend. Ezra looks over, but he doesn’t say anything right away. Instead he just seems to take in my appearance. A person in the row behind them tells me to sit down, and I shoot him a dirty look. I’m so . . . angry. I feel like I could tear this place apart.
“You’re cheating on me?” I ask Ezra. Soleil turns to him accusingly, but it takes a second for her to realize she’s included in the equation.
“Claire,” she starts. “What? No. We were waiting for you and—”
“Shut up,” I snap at her. “I can see what’s going on here.”
Ezra stands, and I feel the entire theater watching us. I just don’t care. “You’re freaking out,” he says, reaching to take my arms. But I won’t let him touch me.
“Go to hell,” I growl. “Both of you.”
Without waiting for another word, I storm up the aisle, tears racing down my cheeks. I can barely get my mind around what’s happening, and I break into a run, needing to escape. As I pass the concession stand, Lucy leans her elbows on the counter, her chin in her palms.
“Night, Claire,” she calls after me. I glance back, confused by her calm appearance when everything is falling apart. But I’m too upset to respond.
I burst out of the theater doors and run for the Jeep. The minute I lock myself inside, I sob and let the grief fill me. My life has just imploded.