Atlantis (20 page)

He dropped his eyes to the floor. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“
You can’t! Charlotte will see you.”

“
Lilly. You don’t want me here. You don’t want me to leave. What do you want me to do?”

Freak. I was running out of options. I decided to try and diffuse the situation. “You said earlier it was okay for us to be just friends, right?”

“
Yeah. But please let me know if you change your mind.” Nicholas winked at me.

“
You’ll be the first to know.” I said in a teasing tone, simultaneously shooting him with my finger pistol. “But while we’re waiting for hell to freeze over, will you please text Charlotte and tell her to meet you somewhere so you can leave?”

“
Sure.” Nicholas paused. “If I can come over later.” His eyes met mine, sizing me up. Pushing his luck, more like it.

I just wanted to get him out of my house, and he was trying to make sure he could get back in. I rolled my eyes and made sure he saw it. “Sure. You can come over later.” I looked him in the eyes as I added, “as friends. Will you leave now?”

Nicholas pulled his phone from his pocket, punched some keys, closed it, and looked at me. “When do you want me to come over?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Whenever. Just later.”

Beep. Beep. He looked at his phone. “Mission accomplished. Charlotte’s on her way to meet me for ice cream. Guess I can go now.” He hesitated for a hug as he started to walk towards my window.

“
Give me a hug, Nicholas Hoe.”

My habit of hugging Nicholas was well ingrained. I really hoped it didn’t give him the wrong idea. The same happy-as-a-clam smile from this morning crossed his face as he took the three necessary steps to give me a hug. Why did Nicholas have to be so difficult? He then left to meet Charlotte, grinning from ear to ear.

“
Be nice.” I called after him as he shimmied down my rooftop.

I waited for him to get to the street before I closed my window, and then the blinds. I checked the lock on my door. I wanted to make sure I had no interruptions. I fished the camera out from under my bed before crawling under the covers with my journal and pen; hoping that the weird camera conversation would work again.

I opened the red tattered edges of my journal and saw the questions I had asked earlier. Turning the page to a clean sheet, and crossing my heart, I clicked my pen and started writing.

Elliott, are you there?

I turned the camera on and set it to take a picture. Click. View.

Elliott, are you there?
Yes.

I sighed with relief that I still had a way to talk to him, since he said he couldn’t keep coming to me. I was so excited my heart skipped a beat. I had so many things I wanted to ask him. I started with the most important.

When will I see you again?

Click. View.

When will I see you again?
I don’t know. But I’m working on it Miele.

My heart seemed to sink a little deeper into my chest at his response. Even though I already knew the answer, I was hoping for a different one.

Is there anything I can do?

Click. View.

Is there anything I can do?
Yes.

My heart started to race again. I tried, futilely, to not get my hopes up as I quickly wrote,

What?

Click. View.

What?
You can wear the ring.

I looked down at my left hand.
How could me wearing a ring possibly help anything?
I decided to ask.

I will wear it. Actually it won’t come off, but how will that help?

Click. View.

I will wear it. Actually it won’t come off, but how will that help?

I told you before, how in the underground lake you told me you felt a connection to opals, let me tell you more about it. Please turn the paper over and start a new page. This will take some room.

I turned the page quickly and wrote,

Okay.

Click. View.

Okay.

You gave me an opal that first day we met. And when we were in the suttosuolo lake you said you felt a connection with them. Well, after you left me in the Piazza, and I went to work for the day, I got to thinking. I realized I must have felt a connection with the opal too, since I had followed that strange sensation to the abandoned home and found you.

The page was full. I eagerly turned the page and wrote quickly at the top.

Go on.

Click. View.

Go on.

Well, that night is when I decided to make you the ring that’s on your finger.

You made it?

Click. View.

You made it?

Yes. The stone you had given me was a perfect little bean. I spent the whole night at my friend Leonardo’s working out a way to make it into a ring. Leonardo was apprenticing to become a jeweler and was happy to help me. We decided that we were going to split the opal in half and make sister rings.

Sister rings?
I looked down at the ring again. I liked it even more now that I knew Elliott hadn’t just given it to me, but his strong, perfect, muscular hands actually made it. It seemed to solidify some of my theory’s about him. He was becoming more real to me. I tried not to think about the fact that I was communicating with him via a camera. It would hurt my theory.

I was still looking at his reply on the camera screen when I realized he had said “sister rings.”

Who has the other ring?

Click. View.

Who has the other ring?

I do.

I sat there moving my eyes back and forth from the camera to my ring. Was there really another half to the most beautiful ring ever made? And could the sister rings be part of the reason I felt such a
draw to Elliott.
No, there had to be something more,
I decided. There was something magnetic about him, and it had to be more than just the rings.

The air conditioner clicked on. I popped my head out from under the blanket and a rush of cool air hit my face. I instinctively wrapped the quilt tighter around me as I leaned up against my wall. I had so many things to ask Elliott, but I really wanted to ask him in person. I wanted to hear the honey texture of his accent colored words. I wanted to feel the electricity pulse from him to me. I wanted to swim in his hazel green eyes again. And since he didn’t know when he would be able to come back, I would have to wait.

Then I realized he hadn’t finished answering my question. I turned to a fresh page and wrote,

So, how does me wearing the ring help?

Click. View.

So, how does me wearing the ring help?

You and I have a connection that goes back centuries, but the rings just help us find each other more quickly when we are far apart. If you keep wearing it, then when I am able to come back, I will be able to come right to you my love.

I leaned deeper into the pillows behind me. I drew my left hand up to my mouth and kissed the ring. I was never going to take it off for as long as I lived. I took a deep breath and realized Elliott scent lingered faintly in the fabric of my hoodie. I smiled as I absorbed the floral smell. A question entered my mind that couldn’t wait until I saw him in person again.

I wanted to know where he went when he wasn’t with me. I figured it couldn’t be far, since he seemed to appear and disappear out of thin air. But when he talked of going away, his tone made it sound like a journey.

Where are you Elliott?

Click. View.

Where are you Elliott?

What the. . .
I hurried and scrawled,

Elliott, I didn’t get that. It just looks like a pen broke. Are you okay?

Click. View.

Elliott, I didn’t get that. It just looks like a pen broke. Are you okay?

Yes. I’m fine. But I have to go for now. I’ll see you as soon as I can Miele. Ciao.

“
No. Please don’t go,” I said to the camera, momentarily forgetting he couldn’t hear me.

I quickly scrawled,

Please don’t go Elliott.

Click. View.

Please don’t go Elliott.

There was no reply. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. I clicked back to the ink covered photo, and a chill ran down my spine. Was I seeing things, or was there something hidden in the spatter?

All I knew was something had happened. I was sure of it. And I was helpless. I had no idea where to even begin looking for Elliott, or what I could do to help. But Elliott was a part of me, and somehow I would have to find a way for us to be together. As I stewed in my predicament, I noticed something strange about the ink spots in the photo. I zoomed in and saw,