A View From Forever (Thompson Sisters Book 3) (23 page)

BOOK: A View From Forever (Thompson Sisters Book 3)
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“I’m going to call my sister,” I say. I take out my phone and switch it on. It takes a minute to start. then it pops up an alert. Two new voicemails.

One of the calls is from Carrie. I don't recognize the other phone number, from the 404 area code. I don't know where that is. I start to press the button to listen to the message but my phone starts ringing.

It's from the same 404 area code number. I answer.

"Hello? "

“Hello… I’m trying to reach Alex Thompson, " The voice is female, young, and has a southern accent considerably thicker than Dylan’s.

“This is she,” I reply.

“My name is Rachel. I was told that you’re with Dylan, and that he is looking for me.”

I gasp.
It’s her!
“He's right here,” I say, my voice shaking a little. I lower my hand with the phone, and I say to Dylan, “This call is for you.”

His eyebrows draw together in a quizzical expression. But he takes the phone, puts it to his ear, and says, "this is Dylan.”

He listens for one second, then staggers, eyes suddenly shining with tears.

I Promise (Dylan)

When I hear the words, “Dylan, this is Spot,” I feel as if someone punched me in the gut. A rush of emotions floods through me. Confusion, love, and incredible relief. I sink into one of the plastic chairs bolted into the floor, my eyes on Alex in wonder as I reply.

“Spot? It’s really you?”

“I don't actually go by that anymore,” she says. “That was part of the different life.”

“Rachel, then? That's what Alex’s sister said your name is.”

“That's right,” she says. “Rachel.”

“Scott—told me that you were dead.”

“I’m not surprised he thought so. I did my best to leave all of that behind.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing all that special. I got arrested. When I got out, I went to my parents. I didn't know where else to go, and Dylan… I was afraid to be out on the streets again, and I didn’t know where you were.”

I asked her, “What did they say? Are they still treating you wrong? You can come stay—“

“Dylan, it’s okay. It really is.”

Relief. I ask, “What did they say?”

She sniffs, loudly. “Dad … when he saw me … he fell on his knees. And he begged me to forgive him.”

Oh my God.
“Sp—Rachel, I’m so happy. I’m
so
happy. I thought you were dead.”

“No. I’m back home now. I… I’d like to see you when you get home, if that’s okay. But only if you’re not doing that stuff anymore… I quit getting high.”

“Me too.”

We exchange phone numbers, and I promise to call her, and we hang up. I find myself rubbing my eye with the palm of my hand. Alex touches me on the shoulder. “Your friend is alive,” she says. Her smile is amazing.

I force back the watering in my eyes. “Thank you, Alex.
Thank you.
” I can’t say how much it means. That on some level I blamed myself for her not getting help, not finding her way home. I blamed myself for not going back that first day after I moved home, so I could help her
too
.

She puts her hands on both sides of my face and says, “You know I’d do anything for you.”

I meet her eyes. “And I would for you.”

She swallows and whispers, “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

I close my eyes for a second to force back the emotion spilling over. “I don’t either. I don’t ever want to say goodbye to you.”

I hear the call over the loudspeakers. “Flight 704 to Atlanta, boarding at gate B39.”

“That’s your flight,” she croaks out, her voice cracking. Tears pour down her face as she says the words. Jesus Christ.

“I can skip it,” I say. “I don’t have anything to do in Atlanta anyway.”

She snorts, but doesn’t stop crying. “Except graduate high school?”

“Yeah,” I say. “There’s that.”

We lean together, foreheads touching, tears mingling. “This isn’t it,” I say. “Not by a long shot. I don’t know whether it’s next month or next year or … or what… but we will be together.”

“Promise me,” she says.

Boarding rows 29 to 40, Flight 704 to Atlanta. Please have your tickets out and ready.
The words punch into me, far weightier than they have any right to be.

“I promise,” I say. “I promise I’m your forever. I promise I’ll come find you wherever you are. I promise.”

“Please don’t forget me,” she whispers.

“I could never forget you.”

We kiss, eyes closed, the whole world blocked out. I’ve never felt so—so torn, my heart lacerated. Every bit of my being is with
her
and I don’t want to go.
I don’t want to go.

“Dylan, it’s time to board the plane.” I hear Mrs. Simpson’s voice from a great distance.

Last call, Flight 704 to Atlanta, boarding now.

“Go!” Alex urges. “Go.”

We break away from each other and I look deep in her eyes, trying to see, will she remember? Will she stay strong? Will I? I’ve got so many doubts and fears, so many questions. I look up to the gate. Mrs. Simpson is there now, waving urgently for me to come. A flight attendant is walking in my direction.

Shit. Time to go.

I turn back to Alex, meeting her eyes one last time, and I bring my fingers to her face with a feather touch.

Then I leave her, with two last words.

I promise.

Nickel Mines
(Crank and Julia Wilson, 2006)
A one room schoolhouse
Fields of grain
Soft sounds of rural life
Creaking of leather straps and wagon wheels
Manure and hickory smoke
The wind blows metallic terror
as a truck backs up into a nightmare
A man
torn by 
something?
“I’m trying to find something he says”
to disarm
then he brings out the guns
The clatter of rounds in the chamber
A threat revealed
Some escape
Some are let go
adults with babies, and all the boys
hot with fear and sweat
but the girls are kept in quivering terror
zip ties cut into the flesh
trembling faith stretched thin by evil
Some real or imagined offense
far in the man’s past
brings murder to Nickel Mines
take me first, says one girl, that the others may live
a second girl asks for the same
One shot, two, three, then four. Five and six. Seven.
Eight. Nine.
Ten.
Naomi and Lena. Mary Liz and Anna Mae. Marion
all dead
I would ask
did the killer believe in Jesus and
if so, was he whisked straight to heaven?
How do you get justice when someone kills themselves after murdering children?
When it was all over 
the families sought out the wife and children of the killer
and touched them
offered help
reconciliation
love
for the families, how is it that the first thing they did
was
forgive?
Going Home
(Dylan Paris, December 2007)
My thoughts are sharp, battering
through the mind.
Over the roar of engines I see sky,
grey as tensile steel. A shiver.
Breath is like a phantom,
waving in its white loneliness,
going nowhere.
The roar becomes a scream,
a scream in my heart,
magic turned cold.
Tears.
Over the pitching roar,
my life is torn apart,
the heart cries injustice.
As the rain begins.
Shambling on the plane,
sleep is welcome,
covering the bleeding void,
cool sweet darkness sweeps over,
anesthetic and warm.

A View From Forever

Copyright 2015 Charles Sheehan-Miles
Published by Cincinnatus Press
PO Box 814
South Hadley MA 01075
All Rights Reserved
ISBN 9781632021199

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