Ether (8 page)

            I smile at
him. “I was hoping to see you. Want to spend the day with me?” I’m in the mood
to celebrate. I’m alive, I’m recovering, I have wheels and I’m spending all my
free time with Ephraim.

            “I want to
spend every day with you,” Ephraim says, flashing me his slow burn smile.

            I turn the
car and head towards the coast. In the summer season this area is packed with
tourists and beach comers but I always like it best in the fall and winter. The
outsiders go home and the beaches became quiet and solitary. I prefer the
rugged wildness of the waves to the bright garden of summer umbrellas any day.

            I park the
car along the bluff, near a sandy path that leads down to the beach. While I
scramble down, Ephraim descends soundlessly. He never makes any sound when he
moves. I steal a glance at him as we walk. He’s tall, around six feet, muscular
and lean. But it’s how he moves that fascinates me. He’s graceful and fluid in
a very inhuman way. He’s the first person I’ve ever met that I could actually
call lithe.

            He notices
my scrutiny and grins, “Like what you see?”

            I blush,
turning away and looking out over the waves. They are cresting in huge white
capped rolls. There is no way it would be safe to swim in that, which explains
how deserted the beach is. It also suggests a storm will blow in before long;
something has to be driving those waves.

            Ephraim’s
fingers brush against my hand, ever so lightly, but with real pressure and
warmth. I jump from the sensation of being touched. “I’m sorry,” he says
immediately. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

            “Since when
can you do that? Actually, and since when can you just hang out like this? How
long have you been manifested anyway? An hour now?” Strange that I hadn’t
noticed before how long he’d been with me. I guess it just feels natural to be
together.

            Ephraim
shrugs, “The more time I spend with you, the easier it’s getting easier to
manifest, and it’s easier to maintain. Things seem more real too. I can smell
the salt in the air; feel the wind against my face. Your world is less and less
like a dream to me, with you the only vivid element.”

            “So, will
you eventually be able to-” I paused where I shouldn’t, causing his eyebrow to
quick suggestively. I blush again, like re-dipping a candy apple and hurry on,
“live in this world. Like all the way in. Staying around for hours, being
solid, eating, sleeping, everything?”

            He shrugs
again, his hazel eyes focused on something far away, “I don’t know. I know some
of my kind have taken on human lives, but no one knows precisely how it’s accomplished.
My existence here is linked to you. The more we interact, the more you reach
for me, the more real I become.” Holding my eyes he reaches forward and takes
my hand gently in his. His skin is impossibly warm, pulsing with life. Ephraim
takes a half step forward, closing the distance between us until he is only
inches away. I can feel the power and strength of him radiating outward. It
makes my skin tingle and my breath quicken. He leans in toward me, still
holding my right hand, and then suddenly, his hand slips through mine.

            I see the
frustration in his eyes before I realize what’s happened. His image is wavering
and watery before my eyes, making him appear translucent and insubstantial. He
sighs and the brief flare of very human frustration fades into patience and
resignation.  “Perhaps it is a little too soon for that, anyway,” he says, his
voice a little huskier than I’m used to. His cheeks are spotted with red,
almost like he’s blushing. “I let myself get a little caught up there and
burned through a lot of concentration. It’s going to take me a few hours to
recover. Will you be alright on your own?”

            His image is
flickering madly now and I can tell he is fighting hard to hold on to any form
of visual appearance. “Sure Ephraim, just come back when you can.”

            “As soon as
I can,” he promises from the empty air next to me.

            I sit on a
driftwood log, letting my legs have a minute to steady themselves. A moment ago
my whole body was tingling with anticipation and nerves. A moment ago, I was
about to kiss a boy from beyond this world. And now, I’m on my own, again.

            Without
Ephraim this place is lonely and desolate. And there’s something else too. I
tilt my head, like a dog listening to a sound no one else can hear. But it isn’t
a sound exactly, it’s a vibration. The beach, the cliff, even the air around me
is thrumming and pulsing with some kind of energy. It makes the little hairs on
my arms and the back of my neck stand on end. If it was a stormy day, I would
have thought lightning was about to strike. I jump to my feet, no one needs to
tell me twice to leave. But even safely inside my car I can feel the
vibrations, and they seem to have shaken themselves into my bones, tugging at
me until my whole body is quivering in response.

            It’s not
until I pull the car to a stop in town that I start to feel normal again. I’ve
pulled up in front of this grungy little pizza parlour, Papa’s Pizza, that
serves more grease than actual toppings. The prices are ridiculously cheap if
you didn’t mind the totally unwashed look of everyone and everything that
touches your food.

            I sit in
the dim back of the diner, sitting at one of only four tables and hold up a
disgustingly huge and greasy slice of double pepperoni. The place is always
really warm and dark and makes me feel like a sleepy grizzly trying to pack on
a few extra pounds before the winter. Their pop is kind of watery so I order grape
juice instead. I’m reaching for it when I looked up and find Derrick scowling
at me from the other side of the room. Just before our eyes meet, his look is
hostile and threateningly dark. It sends chills racing along my skin. Catching
my eyes, he schools his expression into a more neutral look of passive boredom.
“Rebecca Pierce, what are the odds?” he says coolly, walking over to me. He
pulls a chair out, turns it backward and sits down at the table with me. “And
just when I was hoping to see you.”

 I
try to act casual, like nothing unusual is happening and promptly knock my
grape juice over. It pours in rivulets over the edge of the table, drenching
the front of my pants and collecting in a pool next to the table. Grabbing a
fistful of papery napkins I try to staunch the flow without taking my eyes off
Derrick. “What do you want?”

He
holds my eyes until my head is swimming with imagines, little flickerings of
things I am trying to forget. Pools of my own blood, shattered glass, twisted
metal, the swerving car. The longer he looks at me, the colder I feel. “We
should be friends. You’re not going to hold dying against me for all eternity
are you?”

I
swallow. “You mean, almost dying.”

He
shakes his head at me, “No reason to make things worse for yourself than they
have to be is there? Accidents happen.”

I
am cold and sweating at the same time. My palms start to itch and my stomach is
tying itself into complicated knots as I struggle to keep my composure. “Are
you threatening me?” I challenge, but my voice fades in the middle of the
sentence, making me sound as scared as I feel.

He
smiles, and for one moment he looks like the handsome, charming boy I let drive
me home from a party a month ago. “I’m trying to make things easier for
everyone. Can’t say I didn’t try.” He slips a bill onto the table, “at least
let me buy you lunch,” he says and walks out.

I
put my head in my hands. Derrick had actually been kind of decent, or
completely terrifying, depending on which way you read things. If that first
accident was really an accident, then I’m being a royal bitch about things. On
the other hand if it wasn’t an accident, then meeting him here is absolutely terrifying.
Which one of those is the truth?

My
nerves are a jangling mess. I wish I could call Ephraim, or that he’d never
left. But I told him I could manage on my own for a few hours. Still, I’m not
at all happy to see a strange cat sitting in the parking lot, right in front of
my car. He’s sitting primly and it’s all too easy to imagine he’s been waiting for
me. I clamp down on my imagination. I’m pretty sure right now I’d see all kinds
of crazy in an ink blot test.

            The cat
regards me coolly, impassively. It’s the same look every cat has ever given me.
The crazy beating of my heart slows down a pound or two. My mind is just
playing tricks on me. I move to pass the cat and get into the car and the cat
makes a weird sort of mewing chirp that sounds a little bit like a derisive
laugh. I glance down at him and he meets my eyes evenly. He is a normal cat. At
least he is until he spreads his mouth wide and gives me a toothy, squinty
grin. His mouth is pulled back into such an unnatural shape that my stomach
bucks. The cat stands and saunters away, flipping his tail swiftly from side to
side.

            As soon as
he’s out of sight I dash for the car and lock the doors firmly behind me. The
only thought running through my head is, “What the hell is going on here?”

            So maybe my
house hadn’t seemed very homey when I’d first gotten out of the hospital but
now, I feel like crying with relief when I pull into the driveway. The day has
turned grey and drizzling but my house is looking as solid as ever.  I slide
the car into the driveway, taking pains not to slam the door as I close it.
Maybe mom won’t notice it right away. I’ve developed a habit of trying to
forestall fights, hoping maybe something will change and the fight will just go
away.

            I cross the
lawn, letting the wet grass soak into my sneakers. The droplets landing on my
face, my hands and seeping in my shoes help calm me, and snap me out of my
paranoia. I stand there with my face upturned, breathing deeply. The doctors
were right about feelings of uneasiness.

            I take a
step forward and feel something solid and large squish under my foot. I pull my
foot up sharply, jumping back in one motion. Lying in the grass in front of me
is a large dead crow. I’ve just stepped on its head and stuff is oozing out.
GROSS! A few steps away is another dead crow and beyond that another. Buick’s
work maybe? Or a bird flu? Whatever it is I put a large chunk of distance
between me and them, using the path as I make my way up to the house. On the
porch I turn, looking back at the birds. I want to know how many of them there
are. There, in the rain slicked grass are the glistening bodies of six ravens
arranged into a circle, right in the middle of my front lawn. It’s a clear
geometric shape; someone has arranged them like this in front of my house.

            I yank the
door open, bolting it behind me and hurrying down the hall to the bathroom. I’d
like to say it’s food poisoning that keeps me heaving over the toilet but it’s
something more like revulsion. And as always when my life turns upside down and
inside out, I call Justin.

            I’m still
shaking with the weak queasy feeling that comes from retching until your eyes
hurt, so I’m sure there’s a quaver in my voice when he answers. “Justin?” I say
timidly. I’m planning on asking him to come over until I hear a slamming door
and stomping feet headed up to my bedroom. Beyond the bathroom door, in the
real world, my mother has discovered the Volvo in the driveway and put two and two
together. Fortunately, I am not in my room. Unfortunately, the house is not
really large enough to hide in.

            “Do you
want to come to Mandy’s party with me? My dad leant me the car, so it can be
just the two of us-” I’m speaking quickly, my word tumbling out in a nervous
rush. Any second now there will be a knock on the bathroom door. On the other
end of the line there is a long pause.

            “Sure, that
would be great.”

            “Nice, I’ll
pick you up around eight say? Great. See you then.”

 I
click the phone off hurriedly and swing open the door, pulling my bright happy
voice into action.  “Mom, are you home? I thought I heard you. Dad’s lending me
the car for awhile. There’s a party at Mandy’s tonight and I’m going with
Justin. I hope that’s okay?”

My
mom rounds the corner, her face a mixture of anger and confusion. She has
worked herself up into a storm thinking my irresponsible father has just given
me the car, five weeks after my head injury. She isn’t expecting it to be a
temporary loan. She isn’t expecting
reasonable
and
limited
, her
two favourite words.

“He
loaned
you the car for tonight?”

I
nod, trying to look concerned. “Mostly for tonight, though maybe he’ll let me
use it to get to school sometimes too. I told him I didn’t want to get stuck
for a ride, so he thought it would be safer for Justin and me if I had the car.
But only if it’s alright with you, he made me promise.” Oh the lies. Lies on
top of lies. It would never in a million years have occurred to him to check
with her about anything.

Her
face softs somewhat. “So your father
leant
you the car?” She still seems
perplexed but at least the anger is seeping away. Of course, so is any chance
of keeping the car long term. She never would have gone for that anyway. She
raises an eyebrow, considering. “He leant it to you for your
date
tonight?”