Flutter (25 page)

As I drifted off to sleep, there was something in the far reaches of my mind, something to do with Jeannette that I had meant to tell Ash. But it was gone, floating just outside my consciousness.

It would wait until tomorrow.

I felt all kinds of nostalgic as we packed up our few things in Dala Cabin. I didn’t want to leave. With each item that I stuffed into my duffel, I kept asking myself,
If this is the beginning with Ash, then why do I feel this ridiculous sense of dread?

I watched him as he made the bed, his mouth turning up at the corners, just a fraction. He was humming again. It was good to see him happy in spite of his conscience, his burden.

I thought of my own father then. Flawed? Yes. A monster like Ash’s was? No.

My episodes were more violent now, but I was also gaining some control. Things were going to turn out all right. With that, I could even envision talking some sense into my dad.

Then why did my stomach feel as though it was twisted into a permanent loop?

I wondered how close Dad was to finding me. I wondered again about the guy on the bus. It all just seemed so crazy, now that I was back here, back where I felt safe.

“Let’s go have breakfast,” Ash said as he pulled on his boots. “And we’ll talk to Jimmy. We’ll tell him as little as possible. Then we can look at the bus schedules. Maybe trains. Figure out where to go.”

I smiled. I busied myself with packing, distracting myself. I chose my favorite yellow Swedish horse. Certainly, Roy, the real estate guy, wouldn’t mind if I took one as a souvenir.

I folded up the last of Ash’s flannels and tucked his razor in my duffel too, and then I sat down for a moment, surveying the tiny room to see what I had left. It looked pretty clear, as if we had never been here. As if these last couple of weeks had been inconsequential. I laughed at the thought.

I threw on my coat and hat, scarf, mittens, for it had gotten very cold, with a windchill well below zero, and I brought my laptop with me in my backpack. We trekked outside, and I shuddered as the wind hit me. I pulled the scarf higher on my face.

We made our way toward Sam’s diner. I had to email Gia, to tell her I was fine, to tell her not to worry. It was the only way—the only safe way. Or was it? I couldn’t decide if I should email her. Or maybe send a note via snail mail. Or do nothing. But I wanted her to know.

It was difficult to make the trek through the woods. The snow had gotten deeper. It had developed an icy crust, but not one that was thick enough to support my weight. With every step, I fell in, and it took all my energy to pull myself out each time and continue on. Ash helped, but my limbs were rubbery, worn out, when we finally reached the diner. I unwrapped myself and plopped into a booth at Sam’s.

I saw in my peripheral vision that Daisy was walking over toward us, and I felt my eyelids flutter.
No!
I thought.
No
.

“Are you okay?” I heard Ash’s voice from what seemed like very far away.

I gritted my teeth and fought it. I wrapped my mind against the pull, the whooshing sound.
No
, I repeated.
No
.

I calmed my breathing and clenched my fists. And I slowly gained ground.
No
, I repeated.

And then I was back.

“Are you all right?” Daisy asked, standing over me, looking half horrified, half annoyed.

“I am,” I answered. “Can I have coffee?” Ash reached his hand over the table then and squeezed my hand.

“Coffee for me too,” he said, not taking his eyes off me.

“Sure.” Daisy gave me the once-over and left us alone.

I put my head in my hands then and breathed in and out slowly. I was okay. I could do this.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

I nodded slowly and slipped my laptop out of my backpack.

Daisy returned with our coffee, and she said, “You know, there were some guys in here earlier asking about you, actually.”

My eyes flew up to Ash’s. “Who?” he asked.

“They were asking about both of you,” Daisy said.

“What did they look like?” Ash whispered.

“I don’t know,” Daisy said, looking from one of us to the other. “What’s going on?”

Suddenly I remembered what Jeannette had said last night at the party. Someone had called about Ash. For Ash? It didn’t matter
who
had called. Something was happening. Someone was onto Ash. Onto us.

“What did you tell them?” I asked.

“I told them I didn’t know you.”

“You did?” I asked. “Thank God.”

“I didn’t know what was going on, but it didn’t seem right.” Daisy looked at us questioningly.

Ash was already standing up, throwing on his coat. “Thank you, Daisy. Thank you. But we have to leave.”

“Were they wearing suits?” I asked.

“Yeah, blue, maybe black suits.”

I felt the thrum behind my eyes then, the swell and push against my temples. I stood up and steadied myself. “We have to go. Thank you, Daisy. It’s fine.”

Ash was already swinging open the door to the diner, and I was right behind him. My mind kept going. Could this really be happening?

“Let’s go to the Wingings’ first,” Ash said, scanning the street ahead of us. Everyone was suspicion personified, the black sedan parked by the hardware store, the man attaching his jumper cables to his truck near the bus bench, the kids throwing snowballs in front of the library. My senses were heightened, too much to take in.

I ran alongside Ash, slipping every third or fourth step on the ice, his hand gripping my mitten, pulling me along. “Please, please,” I whispered, pushing back the thrum, the pressure behind my eyes.

When we got to the stables, we ran into Jimmy Winging coming out of the gray barn.

I watched as Ash tried to act casual, calm himself. “Jimmy, did anyone come around this morning looking for me?”

“No, don’t think so,” Jimmy answered, giving Ash a long stare.

“Thanks, sir. I hate to ask this, but is there any way we could borrow your Jeep, sir?”

“Mind telling me what’s going on?”

“I can’t, Jimmy.”

“If you tell me more, I can probably help you with more than just the Jeep, son.”

“Sir, please, I wouldn’t ask if …”

Jimmy took the keys from his jacket and handed them to Ash.

We silently got into the Jeep, and Ash took off toward the cabin. “We’ll grab our stuff. Then we’ll just keep going.”

It took us only three or four minutes to get to the cabin, but it felt like forever.

Ash drove the truck as close as he could get to the cabin. There didn’t seem to be anyone around. No tire marks. No sign of anybody.

We both quickly went inside. We grabbed our bags and threw them into the back of the Jeep. I heard in the distance the unmistakable sound of tires grinding on snow and ice.

“Ash!” I cried. “Someone’s coming.”

“I know.”

He pulled me to him, his body tense against mine. “Take the Jeep, just go. I’ll stay and—”

“Don’t even say that. I can’t leave you. We are not splitting up.”

“Let me deal with them, whoever it is. Please, Emery. I’ll meet you at the Saugatuck exit on 31 south.”

“No! I’m not leaving you!” I screamed.

“You have to, Emery. Please!”

The tires sounded louder now. And I had an idea.

I could see the car coming now, closer. It was a black Mercedes. A familiar black Mercedes. My dad. I shook my head.

He was coming after me. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it.

The reality of betrayal pierced me in the gut, nearly bowled me over. But it steeled me too. I knew what I had to do.

“It’s my father,” I whispered. “Ash, just trust me. Let me do this. Let me say what I have to say. Just go in the cabin.”

“Emery, I don’t know—”

“Please!” The tone in my voice was crazy, loony, desperate. So Ash turned then, reluctantly, but he went into the cabin, leaving the door open behind him.

I waved as Dad pulled up. There were several people in the car with him. In the passenger seat sat the dark-suit guy.

“Dad,” I said as he got out of the driver’s side.

“Emery!” he said, and stepped forward as if he was going to hug me. I stepped back instinctively. Dad winced but accepted this and kept his distance. Then he smiled, a wide, plastic-looking smile.

The anger pulsed in my veins. Did he really think he could do this to me so easily? Like this was some warm, happy homecoming?

Dad looked me up and down. “It’s gotten worse,” he said.

“Yes,” I answered. Dad looked so drawn, pale, old, behind that fake smile. And I felt my anger soften a tiny bit.

But not much.

“Dad, I don’t want to go,” I told him calmly.

“You know you have to come back with me.” His eyes
were hard, forceful, not pleading. And the tip of his nose was red, like it always was in the cold weather.

Despite everything, there was some small part of me inside that was glad to see him. I had missed my father. And I had the smallest, tiniest bit of remorse concerning what I was about to do to him, especially when I thought about him in ten years, twenty years. My future dad.

But seeing him here, seeing Dad show up here in my town, my haven, with his thugs and his happy facade, I knew that I would never go back to him, to his rules, to his prison, to his cold and calculating lab. I couldn’t wait for my future dad any longer.

I put my head in my hands then, for a long moment. Just for show. I couldn’t give in too easily.

“Is there any other way? Any other option?” I feigned.

“You know there isn’t.”

“I don’t want to go back to that life,” I told him, looking up again.

Dad took a step closer to me then, leveled his eyes to mine. “That life,” Dad scoffed. “Well, have you thought about
death
, Emery? Have you spent time thinking about what that might be like?” He took a step back then, as if he had been too forceful. As if he knew he had scared me back into submission.

He was wrong. But I was going to play along.

I covered my face with my hands for a moment. “Just let me go in, get my stuff. Give me two minutes?”

“Of course.” Dad looked a bit stunned that I had given in so quickly.

I walked slowly toward Dala Cabin, pushing back the thrum, the buzz, the swell behind my eyes, trying desperately to make my gait look like someone who had just submitted, given up her free will, her life … not someone running for, reaching for, straining toward that last scrap of freedom.

I closed the door to the cabin behind me. “Listen to me, Ash. Go open the window. Leave it open, like I climbed through it.”

Ash looked at me incredulously. “What?”

“Just do it!” I hissed, tearing off my gloves, my coat. I didn’t know why I felt like our chances were better if I could feel him under my skin, but I just did.

Ash opened the window. “Take off your coat,” I said. He did as I said, took off his coat, his hat, gloves. I pulled him toward the hearth then. “You listen to me, now.” I grabbed his hand. “Hold on to me. And I’ll hold on to you.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered. “You’re not going back with him?”

“I’ll never go back,” I told him.

I turned his face toward me. I spoke directly in his face. My eyelids fluttered. “I’m taking you with me. The loop. I won’t let go. You don’t let go. We have to try.”

“What?” Ash asked. But even as he said it, he was wrapping his arms around me.

I heard a car door slam. I was certain they were getting ready to knock the door down. “Don’t let go,” I said.

“I won’t.”

Ash took in a big breath, and then he nodded slowly.

“Emery—”

“Shhh,” I told him. “Hold on to me.” I let the feeling come then. I wrapped my arms around Ash like the world depended on it, because mine did. And I let the feeling come. I willed it. My eyelids fluttered. My eyes rolled back, my body stiffened, and before I was gone, before I left, before I looped, I thought I felt his body stiffen against mine.

The whoosh fills my ears, my eyes, and I’m there standing on the bank of the stream. The boy is there too, and he jumps up and down, clapping
.

He points up at Ash and smiles. He drops his picnic basket, which opens, and Dala jumps out, spies a yellow butterfly, and takes off toward it
.

Ash is standing next to me, and he tries desperately to shield his eyes, yet he can hardly move
.

I, on the other hand, feel just fine and lean over toward Ash, grabbing his hand in mine, intertwining our fingers. “We’re here,” I say
.

The boy leads us up Next Hill, near the stream. I help Ash, pull him along, as he’s very clumsy, moving like he’s made of stone
.

We walk slowly, plodding up the hill. His face holds a grimace, his eyes squinting against the bright sunshine
.

“Look at the key,” the boy says. And he points toward the stream. Ash shakes his head. He can’t do it. He holds his head in his hands, like it hurts
.

I walk down to the stream and bend over, gliding the tips of my fingers across the surface of the water, feeling its cool, calming motion. I wait there for a long time. Calmly. Yet I know I’m waiting for something
.

I busy myself trying to snap my fingers, but I can’t. I’m getting better here. My fingers meet more easily than the last time I tried in the loop, but I can’t make them snap, can’t make my movements fine enough
.

A water strider catches my eye as it comes flitting by on the surface of the water. I watch the stream then, the calm plane of the water resettling after the wake of the bug disappears. After a while, I see the familiar shadow shapes moving on the surface of the water, just out of reach at the edges of my vision. I’m not surprised
.

The inky shadows move and form, then unform, in and out. I want to look away. I could shift my eyes just a bit, a centimeter, and the images would be gone. I don’t like the way these shadows feel near me
.

They feel unnatural to me, yet I can’t look away. I know I must keep looking
.