Song of the Fireflies (25 page)

Always the fireflies.

Two more days and Bray will be free. She’ll be free to live her life, to start over with me and to find the happiness she’s always sought, always fought for. The happiness she deserves. I picture her face, that bright smile that I’ve always seen in everything good. And for a long time, sitting with my back pressed against the seat in my car, my shirt beginning to soak with sweat, I get lost in the memory of her face, that bright smile she always charmed me with. The way the wind always blew her hair across the softness of her cheeks, the glistening of her blue eyes, the innocence of them. Every moment of our life together drifts through my mind like an old film with little imperfections and tiny blips and discolorations on the screen. I hear the constant clicking of the reel, but no voices. Bray runs ahead of me through the pasture, her dark hair whipping up behind her in the wind. She looks back with her bright smiling face and laughs and shrieks as I close in on her from behind.

I catch up to her and grab her around the waist. We fall to the ground amid the tall, prickling yellowed grass. I’m on top of her, staring down into her big beautiful blue eyes. Her chest rises and falls beneath mine as she tries to catch her breath.

And we just stare at each other, not saying a word. I want to kiss her and deep down I know she wants me to. We were fourteen and fifteen when this happened. Maybe if I had kissed her that day, the time when I knew more than anything that I wanted her for myself and the day when I was going to tell her that. But we were both dating other people. Maybe if I had given in, everything would’ve turned out differently. If I had just given in…

So I do. This time I do it. I wash everything else out of my mind. I push out the song of the crickets and the frogs, the feel of the wind on my face, and I
make
this moment real.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Bray asks, staring up at me with her long hair spread behind her against the grass.

I study the shape of her lips, the softness of them, and I imagine what they must taste like. Because it’s been so long since I tasted them, when we shared our very first French kiss ever. I feel her fingers curling gently around the fabric of my shirt as her arms are bent upward, tucked between our bodies.

“Because I love you,” I say and she blushes.

“You love me?”

I nod.

“I love you and I want us to be together forever,” I say and study her lips again, forcing myself not to kiss her yet.

Her fingers move from my shirt and come up to my cheeks. She traces a finger along my cheekbone and then over my eyebrows and down the bridge of my nose.

“I love you too, Elias,” she whispers and her thumb rests on my bottom lip. “And I want to be with you forever.”

My mouth closes around hers and I kiss her deeply. I feel her heart beating against mine.

And then I wake up from the daydream and look out the windshield of my car. Rian is standing on the sidewalk looking in at me, a piece of paper clutched in her right hand. Immediately, I know something’s wrong, and my heart sinks like a hot stone straight down into the balls of my feet.

I get out of the car. “What’s wrong?” I’m terrified of the answer.

She’s been crying. She reaches up and wipes her nose with the back of her free hand. I hear her sniffle lightly.

“Rian, w-what is it?” I keep glancing at the paper dangling from her fingertips, knowing it’s the bearer of tragic news, and I want to burn it.

The uneasiness in Rian’s voice scares me further. “Brayelle’s been home for two days,” she says.

Maybe I didn’t hear her right. I feel my head move from side to side, as if to shake her words out of my mind and start anew. I put up my hand. “What did you say?”

Rian swallows hard and clutches the paper in her hand more firmly. I’m getting so impatient I feel like grabbing her by the arms and shaking the words out of her.

“She didn’t want me to tell you, but she got out on schedule and came home with me.”

My voice rises almost to a full shout. “Rian! Just say what you came here to say!” I step up closer when really what I want to do is leave her. I don’t want to look at her, but she’s the only way I’m going to get any of the answers that I’m desperately seeking right now.

“I don’t know where she is!” Tears begin to stream down her cheeks. “She’s been acting really strange since she came home. Talking to me with this sincere look in her eyes. I-I felt like she was forgiving me for everything. She wasn’t mad. Sh-She didn’t even want to talk about the past.” Her tears begin to choke her. “She hugged me. She’s hasn’t hugged me since we were in sixth grade.”

My heart is beating so fast I feel it in my fingers and in my toes. My head is on fire, hot from the fear and anger and adrenaline racing through my veins.

Bray has been back for two days. She didn’t want me to know.

No.

Oh God no…

She planned this all along. She made me believe she was getting out late so I couldn’t stop her.

Finally, I grab Rian’s upper arms tightly in my hands and I shake her. “Where
is
she?!”

“I told you! I don’t know! The last time I saw her was a couple of hours ago!” Tears barrel from her eyes. “She left this on her bed.”

Rian places the crumpled piece of paper into my hand.

I look down at it and I’m terrified to read it, everything in my heart and soul telling me that it’ll kill me if I look into its secrets, like opening Pandora’s box. The light weight of the paper in my hand somehow burns my fingers, right down into the bones.

I open the paper and read the text scribbled in Bray’s handwriting:

The last thing I see are Rian’s teary eyes staring back at me. I let the paper fall from my fingers and I take off running toward Mr. Parson’s land. I leap over the chain-link fence behind Donna Sanders’s house and land on my feet. And I just keep running, past the neighborhood and the church and the old factory at the end of the street. I run faster than I’ve ever run in my life. By car it would take two minutes longer to reach the pasture than running straight through the woods. I can hardly breathe I press on so hard. My heart pounds against my rib cage, trying to burst through it. My calves are as hard as stone, my shoes hitting the ground so fast and so hard that I feel every shock sensation rush into the tips of my toes and up the back of my calf muscles.

I don’t stop running.

Leaping over a small wooden fence, I run past an old shed, and the darkness of the deep woods swallows me whole. I keep on the path, jumping over the same rocks I’ve jumped over since I was a kid. Small low-lying limbs snap me in the face as I run past, not stopping long enough to push them out of my way. The song of the crickets and the frogs and the cicadas rises louder in my ears as if they’re singing to me, urging me on, telling me to hurry.

Tears burn the backs of my eyes and down into my throat. I part my lips and breathe in sharply, forcing the tears back and letting anger and fear and determination push me forward. Because I know that the tears will only slow me down; they’ll rock me to my core and bring me to my knees.

I trip and fall over debris in the forest bed, feeling my ankle twist painfully beneath me. But I pick myself up and keep running. I can feel the solitude of the pasture out ahead. I can faintly smell the stagnant water that always lingers around the bank of the pond. I’m so close. So close. I push myself even harder, veering left and off the path toward the edge of the field. I can see it through a break in the trees. I can see the light of the moon spilling out over the clearing until finally I burst through the last bit of trees and find myself on the outskirts. The water in the pond glistens in the distance. I keep on running toward it, my heart tearing to shreds the closer I get. And then when I finally get there, I stop dead in my tracks as if inches from running into a brick wall.

I feel like I can’t move any part of my body anymore, yet somehow my feet move around in a circle. I see behind me and beside me and the stars above me as if I’m spinning, but I don’t know how I’m moving at all.

My heart has stopped beating. Only my brain is keeping me alive, my mind, frantic with fear and confusion, is frozen in time.

“No…,” I say aloud, yet I don’t recall ever moving my lips.

I step forward. “No…”

My gaze falls downward and for a moment all I can see is the dried grass around my running shoes. But then my head jerks back up and I look at the pond again, at the figure floating on the top of it.

WHY CAN’T I MOVE?! WHY CAN’T I FUCKING MOVE?!

I scream something unintelligible even to me into the night and finally break free from my frozen imprisonment, willing my legs to push forward. My feet hit the water with tremendous force, and my shoes taking on the weight of it nearly knocks me down. Tears pour from my eyes. My hands and legs shake and tremble uncontrollably. My stomach swims in a sickening, churning lake of bile. My mind still frantically searches for my heartbeat but never finds it.

I force my body through the water, pushing myself through foot by foot, feeling all the while as if dozens of hands are grabbing at me from below, trying to pull me under.

“
Bray! Brayelle! No! NO!
” I cry out.

I’ve never felt so much pain. My body has never endured so much torment. I know this is what Hell must be like.

I nearly collapse.

When I finally make it to her, I grab her, pulling her limp body into my arms. “Bray, no! Please wake up! Please wake up!” I slap her cheeks, squeeze them in my fingers. I close my mouth over hers and exhale deeply several times, but I don’t know CPR. I can’t see through my tears. I can’t breathe, my lungs feel like cement blocks.

Her arms float atop the water out beside her. Her long, soaked hair, seemingly black, moves atop the surface like seaweed. Her face is white and lifeless and hollow. Her eyes are closed, as though she’s only sleeping. I cry out her name again, over and over, errupting with painful, burning sobs, pulling her body closer to mine and crushing her against me.

“
God damn it, no!
” I wail.

I hear voices shouting somewhere behind me in the pasture, but they’re muffled behind this glass wall my mind has put up around us. I see flashes of bright light bouncing through the darkness and coming toward me, but I can’t look at anything other than Bray lying limp and lifeless in my arms.

I don’t know how I managed and I don’t remember doing it, but I find myself sitting on my knees on the bank of the pond with Bray still clutched against me, her legs splayed out, still floating in the water. I cry into her heavy, wet hair and I squeeze her so tight that I imagine it’ll hurt her and she’ll wake up and tell me to stop.

“
Why?
Why did you do this? Why did you do this?” I cry out, rocking her back and forth within my arms.

The bouncing dots of light moving toward me become brighter; the shouting voices, louder.

I don’t want to let her go. The voices are telling me to let her go. But I can’t. I just want to die with her.

But then amid the shouts and the chaos and the light I hear someone say, “She has a heartbeat.”

She has a heartbeat.

I fall against the soaked earth and look up into the night sky. Slowly my heart begins to beat again and breath finds its way back into my lungs. But I’m paralyzed. All this time I’m thinking Bray is still wrapped in my arms; that we’re looking up at the stars together. But then I realize I’m lying on my side and I am alone. How long have I been here like this? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? I don’t know the difference. I look out into the pasture with my cheek pressed against the wet ground. A single blade of grass stands upright near the corner of my eye and somehow I reach out and move it away. The dark horizon is black on blue, meeting with the earth in the far-off distance. I see tiny green-yellow blinking lights flash off and on lazily in the night. One gets closer. Off. On. Never in the same spot. Off. On.

“Elias?” I hear a man’s voice say with a country accent. “Elias Kline?”

The little firefly floats away.

I turn over onto my back to see Mr. Parson kneeling beside me in his brown boots and plaid short-sleeved shirt tucked into his old-man Levi’s.

“Elias? We have to go now. Can you come with me?” His voice is calm and gruff. The smell of Old Spice fills the space around us.

“We got to go to the hospital,” he says.

I feel trapped within myself. I hear him speaking, but at first I can’t respond. I can’t move from this spot. All I want to do is lie here and die.

“Lemme help you up,” I hear him say, and then I feel his arms fitting underneath mine.

I don’t protest. I don’t have the strength to.

Minutes later I’m in the front seat of Mr. Parson’s old Chevy truck, my head pressed against the glass of the passenger’s-side window. It smells of old, worn-out leather and oil and metal in here.

“Y’know,” I hear him say, but I’m still too weak to raise my head, “I always knew ’bout you and Brayelle Bates sneakin’ into my pond when you were growin’ up. ’Course, I never minded much. Only when I had’ta go out there sometimes an’ pick up after yas.”

I watch the dirt road change to gravel and then to asphalt. All I can think about is Bray. The only face I can see is hers staring back at me. And when I see her lifeless face, her eyes closed, pond water streaming over her eyelids and lips, I
force
myself to look at her, punishing myself for not being there sooner.

“An’ there was one night,” he goes on, “I was walkin’ in the pasture lookin’ for m’dog and stumbled on you two sleepin’ in the grass. You was curled up like two pups. I just left you alone. Harmless really.” He laughs lightly and I can sense him looking over at me. “Though that wife o’mine was afraid you two were doin’ more on our land than jus’ swimmin’. She wanted to tell your folks. But I said she better leave it alone or I’d make her get out there on that damn bush hog and clear the pasture herself.” His laughter rises.

My mind begins to drift farther and I can’t see or hear anything else anymore. Only Bray. I think of every good thing between us and I picture every smiling moment that we shared. Everything. All the way to the hospital. And when the truck pulls up to the doors of the emergency room, I’m too dazed to understand where I am.

Finally, I lift my head from the window. The bright lights outside shine on my face and I look up at the automatic glass doors to peer inside the hospital. But I’m too afraid to go in. I’m too afraid to get out of the truck.

The hospital doors break apart, and Rian steps through them with my mother beside her.

“Oh, Elias,” my mother cries and reaches for me. I don’t even know how the truck door was opened. “I’m so sorry, honey. This is awful! I’m so sorry.” She squeezes her frail arms around me. I don’t even know how I got out of the truck.

I’m afraid to ask her why she’s sorry. I don’t want to know.

Rian’s cheeks shimmer with tears. A tissue is crushed in her hand. She reaches out to hug me, and although I want her and my mother and everyone to leave me alone, I still don’t have the strength to act upon any of my thoughts or intentions.

I’m sitting on a chair in the ER waiting room. I don’t know how I got here, either. All I see is the cream-colored tile floor, wet and dirty from what my drenched running shoes have tracked in. I’m leaning forward with my elbows resting on the tops of my legs, my hands folded together, draped between my knees. Rian and my mother are sitting on either side of me, but I don’t know which. I hate the smell of this place, so sterile and plastic and offensive. The sound of strange beeping machines in the triage room just feet away frays my nerves even further. I hear the squeaking of leather shoes moving across the floor, the intercom popping in the ceiling, and I see the flash of red lights bouncing against the tall glass window from an ambulance that just pulled in.

I feel a hand on my knee, and I recognize it as my mother’s when I place it with her voice.

“You did everything you could do, baby.” The pain in her voice sears right through me. Is she trying to prepare me, or is she hoping to keep me calm?

I keep my eyes trained on the floor.

Time passes, but I can’t tell how much, and a nurse steps into the waiting room and calls Rian’s name.

I’m scared to look up. I know this is the moment, it’s the moment in my life when I will either die from happiness or from pain.

“Are you Ms. Bates’s sister?” the nurse asks Rian.

I still can’t raise my head. My fingers are digging into the back of my scalp, trying their best to penetrate my skull. My right leg shakes uncontrollably, the heel of my foot bounces up and down against the floor in rapid succession. My mother’s hand touches my back.