Aurator, The (2 page)

I got to my car and broke down. I cried so hard that I wasn’t sure I was making sound anymore. By the time I looked up, the parking lot was half empty and I was drained. I drove home, the car grinding and lurching most of the way. As I walked in, my mom and dad ran to me with a mixture of sadness and concern in their eyes.

“I’m sorry you lost friends, honey. It’s not fair,” my mom said. Friends? Funny, that hadn’t been what I was so shaken about. Sure I’d known them all since kindergarten and was sad anyone died. But friends? No.

“Honey, can I do anything for you?” my dad asked.

“No,” I replied looking at both of them. Fear and sadness covered their faces, and I had a sudden rush of shame welling up inside. Should I say that I had known, that I could have done something?

My parents… Diane and Russ Alcosta. I’ve been told my whole life how our last name means
the one who walks along the coast
. “The coast being San Francisco,” my dad would always add. Having heard this story about a hundred times, I would roll my eyes… again. My family has been here since the beginning, my father always told us. “We built this city and won’t leave ’til they’ve burned the whole thing down.”

They are the epitome of a Beaver Cleaver family. My dad, an attorney with the San Francisco District Attorney’s office. I wondered calmly if he would be prosecuting John. My mom, the stay-at-home mom, PTA all the way.

It hadn’t always been like this for them. My parents used to be very active alcoholics, throwing parties almost every night and passed out late at night…
every
night. They were Monday through Saturday atheist alcoholics and Sunday withdrawing Catholics. They both got help right before they had me and have been sober, Alcoholics Anonymous, model parents ever since.

I knew the story very well, they retold it to me hundreds of times when I was growing up, as if trying to make sure I wouldn’t choose the same rocky path. They were… are loving and good parents. But how would they respond to me telling them my truths? Ugh… more psychiatrists.

I hugged them both and walked to my room. I just wanted to sleep.

I woke up feeling a little weak and sore. I got dressed for school and wandered to the kitchen. Dad had gone to work and mom walked in as I was eating breakfast.

I looked up to say good morning and stopped suddenly. My mom had a white outline. She paused in the doorway and looked at me, a little stunned, even nervous and asked, “You okay honey?”

“Yeah mom,” I finally got out. Come on Megan, pull yourself together. “I’m fine.” Then I looked back down at my Cheerios. My mom paused for a minute, as if waiting for something. Then she turned and walked out. I glanced up to watch her walk away, white light and all.

School was equally painful, everyone walking around me with various shades of light and dark, everyone with their own marker. But for what? Good or bad?

I couldn’t look. I didn’t want to know.

I hung my head, not making eye contact, wishing I was blind. It would be years before anything, or anyone, would make me want to look up to greet society again.

2. Warmth
 

I survived high school and started college. I was terrified to move away from home. Over the next few years, I had unwillingly developed, no perfected, seeing the outlines on people. I felt as if I could sense a dark outline near. Maybe I was crazy. But I would turn away, walk away, do whatever I could to avoid seeing… knowing.

Occasionally I had to look up and was awe-struck by the fact that
everyone
had this kind of aura around them. They were different shades, sometimes switching between light and dark. I had no idea what that meant, but I didn’t really want to analyze it.

I hadn’t had another dream since high school and prayed I never would again. I went to college, did my homework, and just like high school… no friends.

I was in my senior year and about to graduate as a nurse. I had always wanted to be a nurse. My dream job was to work in an emergency room, saving lives.

As I passed by my favorite old building on the campus, a beautiful red brick building, worn, but loved by weather and time, I saw it… him. An amazingly bright aura that stopped me in my tracks. I had never seen anything like it before and it shimmered like bits of colored sunlight dancing on the water.

I felt myself pulled toward it, my heart racing, breath quickening, palms sweating. I got within twenty feet of him and it hit me like a gust of hot wind and I closed my eyes. My breathing stopped.

As I regained my composure, I slowly started breathing and opened my eyes. He was a rugged looking guy, but somehow soft. He looked at me with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. My breath quickened as he smiled a smile that could melt any ice-cold heart… even mine. I noticed one crooked tooth, a smile just shy of perfect. I took a deep breath and felt the flush on my checks. My heart sped as he put something down and started walking toward me. His blonde hair ruffled slightly in the breeze as he approached. I watched as he drew closer and closer, stopping just in front of me, easily eight inches taller as me and at least twice as wide, all muscle.

Just then I felt it… a wave of heat, smacking me in the face, forcing me to gasp. He chuckled, probably drawing his own conclusions from this. I quickly thought the heat must be connected to this very different aura. Different… but beautiful. For the first time in my life I felt safe and at ease. And very warm. I had a sudden urge to remove my sweater. My distraction caused by the aura and heat quickly dissipated as he spoke.

“Hi,” he said with the sweetest smile. He held out his hand.

What was I just thinking about? Doesn’t matter.

“Hi,” I was barely able to utter and I reached out to shake his hand. My hand warmed and softened in his as he reached with his left and grasped my hand in his.

He looked curiously at me, or confused, trying to figure out if I was nothing short of a moron, and chuckled, “I’m Luke. You a student here?”

“Uh, yeah. You?” My IQ was dropping by the second.

He smiled bigger and chuckled. I became aware that he was still holding my hand, “No, maintenance department. I work here.”

I wish I could say it took more than that, but it didn’t. We spent every day after that together. I couldn’t get enough of him… in any way. The way he looked at me… touched me… but more so how I felt with him. I had never felt so at ease or comfortable in my surroundings. I also noticed that I still had the same anxious, nervous, “don’t fit in” feeling when I wasn’t with him.

We married the following year after graduation. I got my first nursing job working in an emergency room. Night shift, but it was worth it. Life was amazing. Three children came… all girls… over the years. First Alexandra, or Alex, now fourteen and a brunette like me. It took us many years to have our next child but then came Trina, now eleven and a redhead—we don’t know how that happened. Then right away Abigail, seven and a blonde, the spitting image of my husband. My life was perfect. I finally fit somewhere. But always, the minute I was away from my family the same angst hit. Work was good but I was always edgy there too. A lot of commendations for good work. I was… I am a good nurse.

My daughters were everything to me. When I wasn’t sleeping, trying to catch up from the night shift, I was working in their classrooms, shuttling to and from school or some blur of soccer/violin/volleyball practice/concerts/games. Each of my girls had the same colored shimmering aura that their dad had. Only Trina’s had a slight pink hue to hers, probably some odd reflection of her gorgeous hair.

I still saw auras around everyone and mostly avoided looking too closely or paying too much attention. I had learned to become numb to it, to look at someone and tune out the light around them, almost as if lifting them out of it. I noticed that if I touched them—like while I was at work—the aura dimmed and the person became more prominent… more comfortable for me to work with. This is the way life went on for me, day in and day out. Until…

One month ago… the dream

Women writhing in pain

screaming

many very clear distinct faces

all screaming and begging for mercy

screaming

laid out, twisted in different positions

everything covered in red

screaming

the agony of each face moving in and out of view

one by one

screaming
 . . .
screaming
 . . .
screaming

the pain on each face

red everywhere
 . . .
too much red
 . . .

I pleaded with my sleeping self
 . . .
wake up
 . . .

screaming

wake up
 . . .

screaming

OH GOD, WAKE UP!!!!

I woke up crying out in pain. It hurt so bad, the intensity of it.
Not again,
I thought… My family!

My husband was the first in the room. It was still dark outside, not yet morning, and he was getting ready for work. My daughters ran in after him, but he reassured them, telling them to go back to bed. “Mommy’s okay,” he kept trying to say.

I could hear the hesitation in his voice as if he didn’t believe the words himself. I could barely focus on him because of the blinding pain. My head, my body, between my legs. I had to hold myself. I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs, trying to squeeze the pain, trying to suffocate it. My husband wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in his warmth. I gasped… the pain was gone. But my visions… the nightmare… had returned and I started to cry. “Don’t let go of me, please,” I begged.

He rocked me, speaking slowly, fear in his voice, “I have you. I’ll hold you as long as you want.”

He held me for a while, occasionally kissing my forehead, although I’m not sure how much time had passed. I tried to clear my throat as the crying stopped, trying to speak, but all that came out was a raspy noise.

My husband noticed my dry throat and went to get me a glass of water. When he let go all the pain returned, just as intense. Crippling me. He reached out again and clutched me toward him. The pain disappeared again. Now I really thought I was crazy.

I looked at my husband’s wide, terrified eyes. Yeah, he thought so too. “What do I do?” he finally asked.

“I don’t know, just hold me, it seems to be better when you’re holding me.” I couldn’t tell him what I was thinking.
You married a crazy person
 . . .
run while you can
 . . .
run
 . . .
I had a vision
 . . .
maybe a dream
 . . .
no wait I need you
 . . .
no, run!!!
How do you say that to someone without them calling a psychiatrist. Too bad for my husband that when we took our vows, we hadn’t added for better or worse
or crazy.

The sun came up and my pain subsided. Every time my husband got up to help one of the girls, make lunches, or get ready himself, the pain returned. But each time it was a little better.

By the time my husband had to leave to take the girls to school, the pain was a dull ache and I could bear it. As he left, he made me promise to get rest and call him if anything else happened. He urged me to call the doctor but I said I was fine.

3. Chaos
 

Finally alone, I tried to put the pieces together… another dream. I hadn’t had one since I was sixteen. I shuddered. That one didn’t go so well. Would this one be better? I hadn’t noticed anyone with a black aura like the one I’d seen on John Steele in high school.

Okay, I’m nuts… I need a break.
Shopping!
I thought. That will help. I need to forget the faces, push them away… besides, we need milk.

Driving around, I couldn’t help but notice.
Everyone
was lit up… light and dark… as if trying to get my attention. I tried to look away, but it haunted me… taunted me wherever I looked. Why? Is it getting stronger? But why now?

I turned the music up in the car… I forgot I’d put this CD in. It was a metal band that a friend from high school was in and they were having some much-deserved success. I suddenly remembered my old ’80s big-hair Scorpion and Van Halen days. Ugh. I shuddered at the image of myself. That did it, I was better. I’m sure the guy sitting in his way-too-expensive-now-I-don’t-have-a-college-fund-for-my-kids BMW next to me thought I had completely lost my mind as I started singing at the top of my lungs, bellowing out words that I knew didn’t match the lyrics and throwing my head forward and back like I was at some absurd rock concert. I didn’t care. I felt better.

I got to the store, and as I walked in I felt the familiar rush of cooler air from inside. I loved these all-you-need stores with their clothes, electronics, and food all under one roof. As I negotiated up and down the aisles, paying attention to the auras around me, I became aware of a temperature sensation attached to each one. The darker the aura, the colder the temperature as I got close to them. Conversely, the lighter the aura, the warmer the temperature.

How had I missed this before? I looked at one shopper with a white aura. He was African American, short and a little on the stocky side, middle-aged, with just the beginnings of a thinning hairline. He had on a pair of dark slacks with a white button-up shirt. There wasn’t anything particularly distinct about this man. So why such a bright white aura? Was he that good?

I then looked around and found a fairly dark aura. Not black like John’s had been but definitely dark. She was a tall Caucasian woman with smartly styled hair and expensive-looking jewelry. Her suit was clearly tailored for her and her shoes looked Italian. She was talking on a cell phone about some
idiot
in some merger and that she would take care of it when she got back to the office. I watched her cut in line at the checkout and decided that I’d seen enough.

I then focused on something that I had noticed before but had never taken the time to investigate. I saw a young boy walking through the clothing section whose aura apparently shifted back and forth between light and dark, sliding through all the shades in between. He was a very strong and handsome high-school football type. Could a person switch between good and bad, or rather
decide
to be good or bad and have it reflected around him?

I found myself a bit distracted for a second, wondering why this kid wasn’t in school. He walked between the racks with his white aura neatly attached and then approached a shirt rack. He shifted darker as he held a particular shirt and then shifted back to light. I found myself squinting to see his face, but his shoulder-length wavy red hair covered his face like a curtain. He then moved on to another rack, sliding back to a darker shade as he stood there. What was he thinking? Ah, maybe he was deciding which way to go.

I tried to shake it off, actually shaking my head. I walked down the cereal aisle toward the milk, concluding that I really didn’t want to know this much about the auras. Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone looking at me and I turned to meet his eyes. A man stood holding a box of cereal, seemingly struck by something and looking at
me
. He smiled and nodded at me, then turned to look back at the boxes on the shelves. I didn’t stop looking, however, because his aura was different. Unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It was red.

I examined him for a moment. He was maybe in his late fifties and tall with a muscular build, slightly olive skin and dark wavy hair that looked like he wouldn’t have to brush it and it would still fall effortlessly into place. He had a beautiful face and was striking to look at with deep green eyes that seemed to stand out against his skin. He was very attractive and well dressed in casual clothes that were clean and pressed with a blue button-up shirt. So why a red aura?

I turned away, not really wanting the answer to this question in my head. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about! As I walked I thought I should go to the girl’s clothing section. My girls were growing so fast, it was hard to keep up with… .

“Excuse me,” said a voice behind me. I turned and it was the same man I had been looking at, except now his aura was right in front of me, almost blinding me. I was caught off guard and I staggered back.

“Yes,” I barely got the word out, my voice cracking as if I had just awakened out of a deep sleep. His eyes bore down on me in an awed, almost bewildered gaze that I’m sure mirrored my own.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said. “My name is Aaron. I wanted to introduce myself.”

Oh great, I thought, he’s coming on to me. I’m sure he could surmise my distaste by my expression. I was never one to have a poker face.

“I know this seems odd, and you don’t know me, but we have something in common,” he said. He smiled warmly, making it seem I should trust him. There was something familiar about him that I couldn’t put my finger on. Had I worked with him? A patient? Hopefully not one of the ones we had to put on a psych hold.

I thought it would be better for me to let him tell me who he was before I started throwing out guesses and giving away unnecessary information to this stranger.

“What?” I blurted out almost rudely. I could feel my walls going up. Caution. But I still couldn’t fight the familiar feeling I had.

“Well,” he started again, still smiling with excitement in his eyes, “it’s hard to explain, especially here in the middle of the store. Let’s just say that I know what you see, what you are… we share this. Does that make sense to you?”

I suddenly felt my breathing speed past me as if I were trying to catch it. My heart was hammering so fast that I was sure it would burst out of my chest. I felt dizzy. My words spilled out, making no sense, “What? . . . Who? . . . What? . . . I don’t understand.”

I sat down on one of the displays and tried to compose myself. What could this stranger know about what I see? I don’t even know what I see. He stood next to me waiting for me to collect myself.

“What do you mean you know what I see?” I squeezed my eyes shut hoping to keep out an answer I wasn’t sure I wanted.

I was momentarily distracted as I heard a scuffle and watched the store security escort the young red-haired boy past us while using a walkie-talkie to call the police. The boy had been caught shoplifting. The boy’s aura was white now… and I wondered to myself if this experience had made his decision for him.

Aaron looked toward the boy and then back at me. He knelt down next to me and said in a barely audible voice, “Your dreams, the auras.”

He stopped suddenly as he noticed my wide, deer-in-the-headlights eyes and moved back cautiously from me. As if trying not to frighten me any more than I was. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have… I just wasn’t expecting… you… .” He shook his head and reached into his pocket.

I could feel my lungs laboring to move in and out with any sort of fluidity.

“This wasn’t the best way to do this. I’m sorry, but I was surprised to see…
you
,” he continued, still looking at me, confused now.

What did that mean?
You.
As if he knew me. He handed me a business card that he had removed from his pocket and smiled apologetically.

“Call me if you want answers.”

And then he walked away rubbing his forehead and running his fingers through his hair as if he had a headache.

Answers?
What the hell! What was that? I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this. I watched his red aura move away… fading. I could feel the tears welling up. I dropped the items I was holding and moved quickly out of the store, breaking into a run as I hit the doors to the outside. I barely made it into my car before the waterworks started. I was sobbing, and the pain in my chest was sharp with every breath.

I don’t know how much time had passed, but when I finally pulled my head up from the steering wheel I felt as if I could burst. I drove home on autopilot, not paying much attention to cars around me. Who was he, and what did he know about what I could see?

As I pulled in the driveway, I called my husband. It would be time to pick the girls up from school soon and I was in no condition to do it.

“Honey?” I said as he answered on the other end.

“What’s the matter?” Luke could always tell when something was wrong. He was the only one in my life with whom I was transparent… until now.

“I’m fine, better than earlier. But I don’t think I’ll make it to pick the girls up. Can you?” I tried to sound sane… put together. I don’t think I was successful.

“Sure, love. I’ll leave now. Do you want to talk about anything?” Always so reasonable, so calm.

“Not now. I think I just need some time. Okay? I love you.” I hung my head. He was always more open than me. So patient and willing to be there for me, but I’d always been so closed off.

“Okay, just let me know.” I could hear him wanting to ask for more information. “And honey… whatever it is… it will be okay.”

I was choking back tears. I did want to tell him. “Okay, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I hung up and continued crying. I was able to regain enough composure to get out of the car and walk inside the house. I walked into the kitchen, got a glass of water and tried to breathe. Visions of my dream came flooding in, and I was struck by a sudden wave of rage. I started thinking of this stranger I met.
What did he know?

I’m not sure what happened next but my vision changed. I saw flashing lights in front of my eyes, a strong sensation shot through my body and I reacted. It was involuntary. I started grabbing everything off the counters, out of the cabinets, throwing them with more force and strength than I even knew I was capable of. Dishes and glasses smashed against the walls and floor. I could hear them breaking yet somehow felt disconnected from the reality shattering around me.

The thought flittered through my head,
Who’s doing this?
Flashes again of my dream, not just this last one but also the one from high school. I saw red, lots of red. The screaming in my head was so loud I almost couldn’t hear the crashing around me. As I was losing control I had a strange sensation of a different kind of awareness.

A sudden shudder went through my body and my state was broken. I felt immediately conscious of my surroundings. And of course, the mess. What had I done? I sat on the floor among the shards of glass and porcelain dishes in ruins.

I was filled with remorse. I wasn’t used to losing control. I’m a wife, a mother, a nurse. I’m supposed to be the one
in
control. My head dropped into my hands. Maybe I finally do need that shrink, I thought. What’s wrong with me? I remembered something from earlier in the day and reached into my pocket.

I pulled out the business card. It was white linen paper, classy, but with very little writing on it. Just a name and a phone number.

I picked up the phone and dialed. It rang just once.

“Hello?” said the familiar voice from earlier.

“Aaron?”