Schasm (Schasm Series) (10 page)

But I won’t be letting her touch me like that again.

I move to the side, knowing I can’t hold out forever. If I don’t humor her right now, I’ll never get to go anywhere tonight, let alone be in one piece. She’ll be watching over me all night just to make sure I don’t find a way to escape from this hellhole.

The door swings open violently and smashes into the wall behind it. She’s breathing heavily, not saying anything, just glaring and trying not to cry. I can’t figure out what happened to this woman, how she could have turned into the person she is. There has to be a much larger piece to the puzzle.

She shakes her head. “Maybe it’s time we talked.”

Damn right it is.

CHAPTER NINE

A BURIED PAST

I LOOK AT HER
with no expression at all. I just study her. Her eyes are filled with a web of red veins. Her demeanor shifts very easily from rage to sympathy, like a psychiatric doctor who’s talking to a severely ill mental patient. One she’s trying not to piss off any more than she already has.

“Have a seat, Chloe.” She gestures for me to sit down on the bed. “Come, honey. Sit.”

Did she just call me
honey
? She never refers to me in an endearing manner.

She lets out an exaggerated sigh and places her thumb and forefinger over her temples as I sit down. “Those letters aren’t what you think they are.”

I don’t want to hear this if it’s only going to be more lies. “Mother, I only read the one letter, and it’s pretty clear what happened to your brother…the uncle I never even knew I had.”

She pulls her hand away from her face and her eyes widen with hope. “So you…you didn’t read the others?” she asks.

“No. The last one was enough to digest. It painted quite a picture for me.”

“Oh. I see.” She’s calmer now.

I need my questions answered now. “Why haven’t you ever mentioned that I have an uncle, or the fact that he suffered from a mental illness? I’m an adult. I can handle the truth.”

She raises her eyebrow. I’m sure it was at me using the word
adult
.

“Your uncle…James…his condition wasn’t like yours. It was much different.” She hesitates. “He had more than one personality. Three others, actually. It’s very complicated.” She swallows hard. “He was a good person, but he wasn’t aware of the extent of his disorder, which is why our parents had to keep him hidden away.”

“Hidden?” I ask.

She nods and fidgets with a tissue in her hand. “He blamed our parents…he said they’d ruined his life. He never understood why they couldn’t get him the help he needed.” She sweeps some invisible dust off the end of my bed. Always so tidy, even in here. “They were always too busy trying to keep his other personas from hurting him. When he was himself, he was depressed—suicidal, even. He couldn’t remember the activities of the others, and he couldn’t bear the confusion, with everything our parents and the doctors were telling him.” She pauses, and pulls in a deep breath. “One day he decided that enough was enough, and he took his own life.”

Her acting is fantastic, but I don’t believe a word she says.

She places her frigid hand over my knee. “Chloe, this is why I try my hardest to get you the help you need. Every day I wonder—I
fear
—that you’ll end up in the same situation.” She sniffles and wipes her tears. Whether they’re real or not, I can’t tell.

“And these other personalities…what were they like?” I wait for another lie to pop out of her mouth.

She stiffens a little. “Not tonight, Chloe. Franco and Simon’s stories are better saved for later.”

Franco and Simon. Interesting. “Didn’t you say there were
three
others?” I ask, pushing for more.

She lifts her wrist and glances at her watch, as if she has somewhere to be this late at night. “I’m very tired, Chloe,” she says, turning away from me. “I think we both could use some rest.”

“Please let me sleep tonight. Okay? No three a.m. wake-up calls?” I try to sound even, but I’m too confused. “I will be here in the morning, like I always am. I really need a little bit of space…to think about things.”

She turns and looks at me. For a moment, I see something close to sympathy cross her face. “Okay. No wake-up calls. But I expect to see you at the breakfast table at seven thirty
sharp
.” “I will be there,” I say, planting my face into my pillow.

She leans over and gives me a weak hug. It’s very awkward for me, and I think the feeling is mutual. She stands up, smooths the creases out of her pants, and walks out without another word. The door closes, and I feel free, even if it’s only for the night.

But I’m so confused now. I’m so displaced in a world of lies and deceit, where the definition of real has become nothing more than some blurred misconception of a truth I don’t even know about.

I pull the crinkled drawing out of my top drawer. It made me feel something…unfamiliar, but good. As I glide my hand over the soft wrinkles of the paper, a smile comes to me. I
was
capable of being happy once.

I wonder why it went away.

CHAPTER TEN

NIGHT TWO

I FOLD UP THE CRUMPLED PAPER
and shove it into my back pocket.

Nineteen…eighteen…seventeen…sixteen…

I placed my notebook on my nightstand, like Dr. Greene asked me to. I feel peaceful enough that I can already sense my mind drifting through the familiar darkness. It’s leading toward a warm breeze.

My eyes begin to focus. I see that I’m the only one on the beach. There’s not another person in sight, not even Alex. A wave of hurt rushes through me as I consider the possibility that I might have scared him off.

I shuffle along the shore, kicking the sand while my eyes dig holes into the ground. As I watch the sand flicker onto my shoe, I realize that he
was
right: I
do
watch the beach when I sulk. I guess he knows me after all.

I wish he were here.

I should just leave. This place isn’t the same without him. It's almost as if it's lost its purpose, even though I didn't know a purpose existed here before this week. When I turn around to walk off into nowhere, I remember I have no idea how to get back home without being awakened by my mother. And I made her promise to leave me alone tonight.

Fantastic.

I plop down in the sand, pulling my knees up to my chest. I wish I hadn’t been a jerk to Alex the other day. I deserve this. I gaze at the ocean, wondering what my next move should be.

“Should I keep walking?” It comes from behind me.

I wipe the tears from my cheek before he sees. My head whips around, and I see him walking toward me. My heart pounds against my chest, anticipating his approach.

“Well?” he asks with a nervous grin.

I hop to my feet and brush the sand off my backside. “No…please don’t leave," I say. I sound as if I’m pleading, and I’m not sure it’s necessary. "I’ve thought about it. I can give you a chance to prove you are who you say you are." My eyes meet up with his as he moves in closer. "Just promise me you aren't dangerous or anything."

He laughs at my question. “No more dangerous than you are." He kicks a small puddle of water at me. I jump when the cold water hits my skin. "Besides, someone needs to teach you how to swim before you drown in another four inches of water.” His lips curl into an amazing smile.

Perfect.

There really is no other word to describe any part of him.

“I’m glad you came back,” he says.

“Well.” I sigh. “I’ve been asked to complete an assignment here tonight.” I smile, teasing him with the real reason I came back.

“An assignment? he asks, arching an eyebrow. “My doctor asked me to take some notes to help him understand the inner workings of my drifts a little better.”

His smile fades. “Be careful with the kind of information you give him…okay?” He sounds worried. “Not everyone understands what we have, Chloe.” He seems nervous now. "Out of curiosity, what’s your doctor’s name?”

“His name is Dr. Greene,” I respond.

Alex’s face goes pale.

“Do you know him?” He doesn’t respond. “He’s a pretty nice doctor. So you don’t have anything to worry about.” I'm not sure why I'm finding myself on the defensive.

“Just watch your back, okay?” he says, running his hand up the side of his cheek. “Doctors aren’t always our friends.” He changes the subject abruptly. “Are you hungry?”

I hadn’t realized it before, but I am. “Yes…starving, actually. Is there somewhere to eat around here?”

He holds his hand out to me, spreading his fingers apart, waiting for my hand to interlace with his. His firm grip sends warmth through my body. All I can do is focus on how his thumb rubs against my knuckles with each step. I can't even manage to put one foot in front of the other without tripping. What is wrong with me? Why do I have to keep reminding myself that I just met him?

Sort of.

He has to feel my stumbling feet failing to comply with his long strides. He turns around to check on me. Our eyes lock, and I feel my cheeks fill with a fiery blush. The crooked grin he flashes in response is a dangerously beautiful thing.

“You okay back there?” he asks.

Smiling is the only response I can manage. How is it possible that one person’s touch could control every breath I take?

Our pace slows as we approach a small restaurant perched at the end of a long pier. The structure appears to have been built from thousands of pieces of driftwood. It looks to be very aged. It’s beautiful. As we climb up the back steps, I see an open porch, covered in little white Christmas lights. There are only a few tables, but they all seem to be vacant. It’s extremely intimate.

Alex leads me over to one of the tables and pulls a chair out for me. The waiter greets us and hands us each a menu. I turn the menu over, looking for another page. There’s only this small list of options. We both sit, staring at our menus without exchanging any words. Either he’s nervous too, or he's just as indecisive as I am about what to order.

When the waiter returns, Alex orders a seafood dish, and I order the same. I’m not sure what it is, but I don’t quite care what I eat. The company is more important than the food.

After the waiter leaves, Alex looks up at me with concern. I’m not sure why…this moment is perfect. I could sit here for days. We have a perfect view of the water, and the red sun is melting into the horizon. It's perfection.

As much as I want to focus on the beautiful sunset, Alex’s magnetic blue eyes have caught my attention over everything else. When he notices that I’ve caught him staring, he perks up.

“Thank you for giving me a chance,” he says.

I fold my arms over the table, leaning toward him. “Thank you for never forgetting about me,” I say.

“I know how lucky I am right now, and I’ll never take that for granted.”

“I agree,” I say. “You
are
pretty lucky.” I grin and laugh. But he doesn’t laugh in return.

He pulls his napkin from the bundle of silverware and places it on his lap. Fine dining is a new one for me, so I pull my napkin and follow his lead.
Napkin on lap. Got it.
“Do you mind if I ask what made you want to come back?” he asks, resting his hands on the table. “I figured I had scared you off for good.”

If he only knew that I would have found any excuse to come back here and see him, he wouldn't have been so worried about losing me. “I realized that I should trust I had good taste in friends when I was kid,” I say, pulling out the folded and crumpled drawing from my back pocket.

His eyes follow my hand, seeming curious. “What’s that?” he asks.

I reach my hand over to him and unfold my fingers. “A hint of my past,” I say, biting down on my bottom lip. “This is what made it clear I had to come back and see you.”

He’s hesitant as he pulls the paper from my hands and unfolds it. When he sees what it is, a smile widens across his face, and his tense shoulders sink.

His eyes brighten as I can see him recall the memory. “I remember this,” he says. “You and I were bored one day. It was raining, and we couldn’t play outside." He lays the paper down and his eyes become more animated. "Celia gave us some crayons and paper and told us to draw whatever makes us happy. You drew a picture of the three of us, and I remember afterward, you said, ‘This is my happy.’ It made Celia cry…a good cry. She told you to put the paper in your pocket, and to look at it whenever you were feeling sad.”

My eyes prickle with tears, hearing the story behind the drawing. “That explains why it made me smile when I found it.”

He folds the paper back up and hands it to me. “You should hold onto this,” he says. “Keep it on you. You never know when you’ll need a reminder of why you should be happy.”

“I wish I could remember you,” I say, resting my elbow on the table and my hand under my chin. I study the freckles on his face, hoping and wishing that it would trigger my memory. But there’s nothing.

He rests his arm on the table with the palm of his hand facing up, reaching for mine. I place my hand back where it now belongs, gripped between his fingers.

“All that matters is that you don’t forget me again,” he says in a low and raspy voice. “I’m not sure I could handle losing you twice in one lifetime.”

I press my thumb over his knuckles. “You don’t have to worry about that,” I assure him.

He perks up and straightens his back, appearing more confident. “Well, now that we got that out of the way." He sighs. "Do you think you can come back tomorrow night?”

I nod with a smile. “I’d love to.”

“Good,” he says in a soft voice.

The waiter returns with our plates, and my stomach reminds me that I’m about to indulge myself with real food. “This food is amazing,” I say, scraping up every last morsel on my plate.

Okay. I guess maybe I do care about what I eat.

This has to be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says with a pitying look. “Do you not get this kind of stuff at home?”