The Siren (32 page)

Thank goodness I only had to trek up half of Florida. Such a long state. I drove through the South, not seeing much of it by night. I did get a few stares from some truckers in South Carolina when I stopped for gas. It was midsummer after all, and I was covered from head to toe. The sun rose as I entered Virginia and kept crawling up the sky as I went further north. I ticked the states off as I passed: Florida… North Carolina… Delaware… Connecticut… and, finally, Maine.

I felt a strange warmth in my body when I realized I recognized my surroundings. I thought I was going to explode with anticipation. I couldn’t help but wonder over everything. How did Akinli look? How long was his hair? Did he ever go back to school? Were Ben and Julie married yet? Did Casey somehow manage to get mauled by a bear?

I could only hope.

As I saw the sign for the village, the one that used to give me hope, I got nervous. What was I doing here? What did I hope to find? If Akinli was still doing well, what would that do for me? And, if he wasn’t, what could I do for him? What was I hoping to accomplish? There were no reasonable answers. Whatever I thought I would achieve, I was going to fail.

As the town limits came into view, I felt it for sure: I was making a mistake. I would suffer for it, but I had to go make it.

I had come this far. I was going to see his face.

I left the car and my bag in the parking lot by the cement barrier we had once hopped. Through the windshield, I could see the little stretch of sand where Akinli laid above me, kissing me until I thought I would faint. It had been nearly a year, but the memory of his rough hands twisted in my hair felt so real that I had to lift my hand to my neck to make sure they weren’t really there.

I shook the thoughts from my head and stepped out of the car. It would be easier to go on foot. I took any proof of my stolen identity with me though. I thought that was best. It was still dark out— a little more than twenty-four hours after I had left the girls. I hoped they weren’t angry. With the darkness as my ally, I crept quietly into the woods. He rescued me in the middle of the night once, so I was afraid I might pass him on the street. The Ocean could not know, so the trees were my only option. I knew where I wanted to go. I could see the way to the house in my head.

That house was my home. A sudden horror struck me: Would it still be
their
home? So much can happen in a year.

It was a strange impulse. I had to keep going, even if only to discover he was gone. I knew this venture could make me even more unhappy, but I just had to see.

I loved him.

There wasn’t a thing to be done to change that. I just loved Akinli. And I was prepared to risk my life just to look at his empty house. And maybe, if there was any luck left for me in this world, I could see him, too. It was all I could have: glimpses from a distance. And I would take them at almost any price.

Though my body was strong and unbreakable, I didn’t exactly have night vision. So I stumbled through the woods on my way to the house. My sense of direction was imperfect as well, but it was like the house itself had a magnet in it that drew me closer. I ached at how slowly I moved, but I felt like I was taking more action than I did when I was driving. At least I was showing the effort.

Then the trees parted, and I saw it. My house. It looked beautiful. It’s such an average sight to anyone who might pass it, but it looked like a kingdom to me.

I had my first sign of hope when I looked towards the garage. The garage itself wasn’t used for cars. I knew that. It was full of odds and ends in storage bins all piled up next to Ben’s guitar, keyboard, and drum kit that he kept “just in case” he ever broke into the music scene. So Ben’s smelly car was there, parked in the driveway. They were still here. And then, like the shining prize she was, Bessie was on her kickstand at the side of the house. If Bessie was there, then he was there, too.

I should have worn a watch; I was completely oblivious to the time. It was a flaw in the plan. I would have to depend on the sun to know what they would do.

I studied the house. The lights upstairs were off, but downstairs it looked like there was a glow. No lights on, for sure, but maybe the TV. Someone was awake. That didn’t exactly narrow down the time. Looking around, I saw there was no traffic on the road. I took my chance and ran across the street. I wore jeans and a black shirt hoping I would blend in with the night better. I felt like I did. In the shadow of the house, I rounded the back and walked up the stairs of the porch. From there, I carefully climbed the lattice on the north side of the house. Julie must have tried to grow some sort of flower here and failed, but its presence got me to the second floor. I crept along on the roof of the porch to look into Akinli’s room.

As I got closer I noticed his curtains were different. They looked sheer, feminine. Oh… Oh gosh. Casey must have moved in. He wouldn’t put something like that up except to accommodate a girl. Even if he disliked it he would have done it anyway. That’s just how he was. Oh, Akinli, why did you have to be so obliging? If Casey was living here now, if she was staying in his room, what else were they doing? I might look in this window and see the man I loved with another woman. Would I have the strength to walk away? To forgive him for moving on? To not claw her face myself?

I steadied myself with a deep breath. I would do what it took to keep him safe and happy. From the beginning, I knew I’d always give Akinli whatever he wanted. If that meant leaving Casey unscathed, I’d do it.

I looked in further to confirm my suspicions. The walls were a new color, too. It was hard to make out exactly what they were in the night. And the pictures on the walls had changed. Were those cartoon birds and elephants? That’s odd. It didn’t make sense until my eyes fell on the crib in the corner.

There, sleeping away, was the smallest, loveliest creature I’d ever seen. I saw her chest rise and fall. She was so beautiful. In block letters hanging from delicate ribbons above her crib, I saw the name “Bex.” I guessed that was short for Rebecca. It sounded just right for anyone who belonged to Ben and Julie.

How old was this tiny girl? I counted back the months. Julie must have been pregnant while I was still here. Had she known? Was this beautiful baby her little secret?

I knew she was theirs and not mine, but I still felt like I was missing out. Bex could have been my friend; I could have watched after her. I wondered how Julie was doing. I’ll bet she could use even more help now. Did she think about that? Did I manage to hurt her when I went away?

Oh, Julie, I’m sorry I left you.

I watched Bex for a long time, trying to put her sweet, tiny face to memory. Then, when I finally had my fill of her wonderful face, I went to find Akinli.

I thought maybe he was watching TV, so I’d have to go find a way to get near the living room windows, which were all too high for me. Once on the porch, I walked past the guest room. Looking in, I saw all of Akinli’s things. Of course this was where he would be. He had just picked up and moved downstairs. But my worries on the walk over had me so riled up, I was grateful he was just still
here
. And, mercifully it seemed, not sharing the room with Casey.

There was his bedspread, blue plaid and so comfy. He hadn’t made his bed. His baseball hats hung from nails near the door, less neatly than they had upstairs. There were dirty clothes lying on the floor around his hamper, like he had tried to throw them in but missed every time. On the dresser, I saw the space where he emptied his pockets. His wallet was there, next to his keys and change… and then this glossy, folded piece of paper. It looked like a set of instructions, or something that came with an appliance. Whatever it was he obviously carried it with him. The edges were brown with dirt, and it looked like it was about to crumble at the fold in the middle. I thought I could make out a few bits of dull tape trying to hold it all together.

The door was slightly cracked, and I could see the glow of the TV. It had to be him. So I waited. I was so eager, I had to stop myself from bouncing on my toes. The porch kept squealing, giving me away. I listened for stirrings upstairs and looked around the yard towards the neighbor’s house. All was quiet. No one knew I was here. There was no moon tonight, so I blended in seamlessly to the dark blue sky.

The clock by his nightstand showed it to be past two in the morning when Akinli decided to come to bed. I saw the glow disappear, and I ducked down to not be seen as he walked into his room… my room. I saw the light shine through the opened curtains. I slowly poked my eyes above the ridge of the window, grateful for the darkened night. I saw his back as he stood there at the dresser. He appeared to be arranging things, but I couldn’t tell. I watched as he picked up the glossy paper and read it through. It must have been long because this took several minutes. Then he set it down and moved on.

I felt a little guilty about the thrill I got at watching him strip down to his boxers. It was almost as exciting as it was to wear them myself. He was so gorgeous. The muscles on his back moved reflexively as he stripped. I missed the feeling of them under my hands. I could tell his hair was getting longer. I liked that— his hair looked good long.

That warm hunger for him grew under my skin. The way a woman longs for a man. But not just any man— her own. I knew he wasn’t really mine to keep, but that urge burned so fiercely it was hard to ignore. I thought there would be nothing to distract me from it until finally he turned, and I saw his face.

He looked vacant. Almost as vacant as I felt sometimes. My Akinli had stubble growing around his chin. It made him look a little threatening. If I hadn’t known him better, I might have felt nervous. He looked tired, too. His face was a little sunken, like he hadn’t really slept in weeks. And he was much thinner than he was when we met. Obviously, he was handsome. I could still see that underneath it all, but he was broken. I didn’t need him to say it. I could read him. The way he could read me. He was hurting, and it was bad. What could have led to this?

Had Casey done something? Hurt his feelings yet again? Looking around, I saw no proof of her existence at all. No left-behind girly sweater or even a photograph of them together. Nothing. Had they broken up? That seemed unlikely considering what a fuss she went through to get him back. Maybe they were arguing. I felt so sad that she wasn’t nicer to him.

He walked over to the bed and reached under the mattress and pulled out a thin book. He got into his unmade bed, pulled the covers up and opened the book:
The Giving Tree.
Was that my copy? The corners were bashed in, the cover was scratched, and the pages hung at angles as if they were barely attached to the binding. He sat there and read through the text three times. It was a short story. When he finished, he rested on his bed and gave the book a hug. He adjusted himself so he could tuck it back away and then returned to his back. And I watched as his left eye, the eye closest to me, brought up a tear that slid down his face into his hair. I heard him sniff. He wiped away the tear and turned off the light.

It was
me.

I
was why he looked like this. Why he was skinny, his room messy. If Casey actually had gone, it was because he wanted her gone. He was waiting. I couldn’t show it like he could— my body didn’t act like his— but I was doing the exact same thing. If my unwillingness to eat could make me frail, if my inability to sleep made my face sag with heaviness, if my reluctance to take care of myself could leave my skin dull, this was how I would look, too.

I missed him. He missed me. And there was no way to fix this. Since we’d met, I tried a hundred times to think of a way around me not growing older, not being able to speak, having to run away to aid the Ocean, and that constant fear of killing him. If I could have found a believable way to make this work, I would have.

But I couldn’t. And I suffered for it. And I was fine with me suffering. But it wasn’t okay for him to suffer. Not to me, anyway. I had thought disappearing would push him right back into Casey’s arms. He had said he cared about me, yes. But if I left, wouldn’t he have assumed I didn’t care about him? He was supposed to get hurt or mad and move on to spite me. I should have hurt him more. What could I have done?

I should have left my necklace.

I reached up and felt the delicate metal around my neck. If I left it now all that would do was prove to him that I came back, not that I hated him. Maybe he would wait for me to come back again. Maybe he would hold on even harder. I’d have to make a plan. I’d have to hurt him. What would do enough damage to make him let me go? What amount of pain would I have to inflict now to make it better in the long run?

And then I remembered… I already had a plan. The original plan. The merciful plan.

It would be more merciful than letting him lie awake at night thinking I might somehow reappear. All I would have to do is reintroduce myself, and then take myself permanently out of the picture. All I needed was a little time to dream up the right way to do it.

So, while I waited for a good plan, I watched Akinli sleep. It was an uneasy sleep. He did settle down for a few moments in the night, but he mostly tossed. Close to dawn, Bex started to cry, and that woke him up easily. Akinli wasn’t sleeping deeply at all. Before the sun rose too much, I headed back into the woods to wait for my chance. I wasn’t sure how to step into the picture yet. I would at least need a decent explanation for why I left. While I was still thinking, I saw Ben and Akinli step outside. They were off to the boat.