Understudy (4 page)

"She's in pain right now. You have to consider that she's still young and the concept of death is still quite new to her."

No it wasn’t. I knew how death works. You die and you’re gone. It’s that simple.

Dad’s grip around his fork tightened. "Nonsense. Maybe she needs to visit a shrink."

"Maybe you should stop talking about me like I don't exist," I interjected. It was probably the longest sentence I’d spoken since the accident.

"Maybe you don't exist anymore,” Dad countered.

Mom placed a hand over his shoulder.  "Thomas, not now. I don’t think she’s ready."

"You know what I think?” Dad asked, completely ignoring her. “The real Katharine died with Adam in that accident."

"Maybe she did," I muttered under my breath.

Mom's head snapped up in my direction, and I thought I saw tears in her eyes. I instantly regretted having said that.

"I'm sorry," I said, glancing down to my untouched plate.

Dad sighed and pushed himself up from the dinner table. "That's it," he said, tossing his napkin over his now empty seat. "Call Doctor Lewis tomorrow and set her up for an appointment."

"That's not necessary," I said. The last thing I needed was to spill my guts out to a stranger when I couldn't even spend time around my parents.

"Then tell us what's necessary. You've been locked up in your bedroom for so long and we're worried."

"Then stop worrying."

Dad shook his head. "It's not as if we can help it."

"I can go out if that's what you want," I said, though it was evident in my tone that it was half-assed.

"You don't have to force yourself," Mom said, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

It was the first time I ever saw my mom cry, and my own tears threatened to flow.

"No, I..." I scrambled for words. I needed to get out of there. I pushed myself up from my chair, all the while avoiding their gaze. "I'm going for a walk. I think I could use some air."

"That's not what we meant," Mom said, also rising from her seat.

"No, I'm fine, really." My vision began to blur as tears welled up. Luckily, I was already by the door.

"Kat−"

"Let her," I heard Dad say as I closed the door behind me.

***

The sky was turning dark blue and stars were beginning to show up. Adam and I used to stargaze whenever we had a clear night sky, and I was always amazed by how he could easily distinguish one constellation from another. The memory brought another sharp stabbing pain in my chest and I let my tears flow as I walked down the street, with no idea where I was going.

People I passed by would turn their heads to look at me, some with sympathy in their eyes. As if they knew what I was going through. Highcrest was a small town after all, and everybody knew about the accident. But that didn't mean that they shared the pain I felt.

I walked faster, trying to get away from them, from everyone, from everything. I broke into a run and it somehow made me feel better, though my days of self-confinement had easily caught up with me and I began gasping for air.

Scenes from the accident flashed before my eyes.

I should’ve told him that I loved him too.

I pushed myself further, as if by doing so I'd be able to escape reality. My side burned with exhaustion and sweat trickled down my face. My lungs were screaming for air but I couldn't stop. I lost track of time and my surroundings, but the gnawing pain remained constant. If anything, it grew. Next thing I knew, my foot had struck something solid and the ground seemed to rush towards me.

I had no time to catch myself. I landed hard on my stomach, pushing any air that was left out of my lungs. I stayed where I was as I waited for my breathing to stabilize, my heart pounding in a staccato rhythm. I was tired. My eyelids felt heavy and I was willing to submit myself to the welcoming darkness. It would be easy to just close my eyes, but the sound of crunching dead leaves made my head snap up. It took me a moment to finally notice that I had landed on a thin red blanket. Confused, I scrambled to my feet, taking in the large trees and their intertwining branches. That's when I realized that I was in the woods.

The sky had turned a shade darker and I knew I had to get home before the sun completely disappeared. But instead, I decided to stay where I was and examine the items on the ground.

Aside from the faded red fabric, there was a wicker basket next to an unopened bottle of champagne. A thick film of dust and dirt had settled over everything. It was as if someone had planned on having a picnic but decided to cancel and left, leaving their stuff behind.

I bent down on my knees and studied the fancy bottle. It was a
Krug Clos d’Ambonnay
, Adam's favorite. My heart thudded in my ears as I remembered him telling me that we were going to the woods, and how I teased him about a romantic picnic.

With shaking hands, I slowly opened the wicker basket. Inside were loaves of moldy bread and wrapped items. The smell of spoiled food wafted out, making me retch. I replaced the lid and moved away, a sinking pit slowly opening up in my stomach. I shouldn't have come here.

I pushed myself up, ready to walk away when my sneakers suddenly stepped on something hard. I expected it to be a rock or a piece of small branch. It was neither.

It was the bottle opener I gave Adam for Christmas two years ago. There was no mistaking the cursive letters engraved on its metal handle.

ACW. Adam Christian Wharton.

I felt a shiver run down my spine as I placed my fingers around its cool metal surface, remembering the scent of bread that clung to Adam's shirt. This was supposed to be his surprise. He planned on us having a romantic picnic for his birthday. That would explain the tense expression on his face when I mentioned it. Because he didn't expect me to guess it right.

I clutched the bottle opener against my chest, remembering how Adam used to spin the loop around his pinky finger. Hot tears rolled down my face, and I cursed myself for not staying at home instead.    

"Kat."

I turned around to the direction of the voice and I froze.

They say that our brain is a complex organ, and that it has the ability to protect us from hard traumas by shutting itself down. But there are certain times that it lets us see what we desperately want to see.

I wasn’t sure if it was because I'd been thinking so much about him, or maybe I was just tired from all the running I did. But still, I knew what I saw.

Adam stepped out from the shadows. He was wearing the navy blue shirt he wore for his birthday, the day he died. There were no traces of blood or any bruises that might indicate he was even in an accident. He looked fine...perfect, even.

I found myself paralyzed with shock, fear and a little bit of something else. Longing.

I studied his face carefully, making sure that I was wide awake. I expected him to disappear like smoke, but he didn't. He slowly walked towards me, a calm expression on his face.

I was torn between running to or away from him. He was getting closer and my heart lurched with every step he took.

He stopped a few inches from me, his green eyes bright under the setting sun.

"Adam?" The sound of his name from my own lips surprised me. It was the first time I'd said his name ever since he died.

"Katharine."

His voice was soft, and it reminded me of a beautiful lullaby Mom used to sing to me when I was little. And just like how the lullaby used to end, I was surrounded by a calm and peaceful darkness that I gladly welcomed with open arms.

***

I couldn't remember how I got home, and I was surprised to see Mom studying my face as I woke up the next day.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, brushing away some stray strands of hair from my face.

"What happened?" I asked, ignoring her question. I wasn't really sure how I felt.

"We got a call from the police station. They said they found you unconscious in the woods."

The mention of the woods brought back the image of Adam walking towards me. Had it only been a dream?

"What were you doing there?"

"I don't know," I said, which was true.

"We were worried about you," she said, and I noticed some lines around her eyes that weren't there before. "Don't do that to us again, okay?"

I nodded, feeling guilty. But still, I couldn't shake Adam's image out of my mind, especially his eyes. I'd almost forgotten how they looked like until I saw them again yesterday. They looked real. He looked real. But it was impossible. 

"Honey?"

Mom's voice jolted me from my thoughts and I found her examining my face.

"Are you okay?” Is there something you want to talk about?" Her tone was calculating, as if she wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to ask.

I sat up and shook my head. "No, I'm alright," I lied.

Mom considered this for a moment, her eyebrows dipping in an ominous V-shape. I struggled to maintain eye contact until her shoulders relaxed and she leaned down to kiss my forehead.

That night, I couldn't stop thinking about Adam. I missed him terribly though surprisingly, I had stopped crying over him.  I was afraid that I might be starting to forget him, or that maybe I was beginning to love him less. The thought scared me, but a small voice in the back of my head was telling me something else.

I’m not a skeptic; though I don’t believe in ghosts either. But if it was Adam’s ghost I saw back in the woods, then that meant I could see him again. And I was determined to do so.

School was out and summer break had begun. A lot of students were taking summer jobs, either to find a way to spend their time
productivel
y, or because their parents had simply put them into it. I hadn’t been in the woods since my impromptu visit and, despite my growing urge to return there, I couldn’t bring myself to it. It also didn’t help that I overheard my parents talking about sending me to a shrink. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Are you sure about this?” Mom asked.

“Yes, Adam−" I paused. I was surprised how easy it was for me to say his name, and I realized that I was excited at the possibility of seeing him again. Mom and Dad didn’t seem to have noticed, or if they did, they hid it well. “I mean, we’d planned on working as volunteers for the public library a long time ago,” I continued, remembering the faded ad poster Adam showed me weeks before the accident.

“You can always stay at home and rest,” Mom said, though I could tell that she didn’t mean it. After all, she and Dad had their plans to get me some
mental and emotional help.

“Haven’t you guys made it clear that I’ve spent too much time locked up in my bedroom?”

They glanced at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. I used to have that with Adam.

Dad turned to face me, his lips pressed into a thin line. When he finally spoke, he sounded tired. “We don’t need another disappearing episode, Kat,” Dad said. "Can you promise us that?"

“It won’t happen again.”

Dad studied my face for a moment. His expression torn between worry and uncertainty.

“I promise,” I added, hoping against hope that he didn’t hear the desperation in my voice.

Chapter Four

"Why are you always so excited to leave?"

I looked down to see Lily staring up at me. She was clutching Emily and Tom, her rag dolls, against her chest so tightly they would've suffocated if they were alive.

"Do you hate us?" she asked. Her two front teeth were missing, making her sound funny when she talked. Which she did a lot.

"Of course not," I said, bending down so I could talk to her at an eye level. "What made you think so?"

"Because we're noisy, and naughty, and bad, and−"

"Okay, I get it Lily," I said. She would've gone on with a long list of all the different adjectives she could think of, and I was already running late.

"But you don't smile like that during reading time."

"What?" This observation surprised me. "How is my smile different from reading time and going home?"

"You look happier."

Lily was probably the youngest among the group of kids in the public library's reading camp program. But she was the brightest, though she could be really nosy at times too.

I looked behind her to see kids running down the hall to meet their waiting parents. I wondered if Lily's dad would be late again, and if that was the case then I'd have to stay until he arrived. The thought made me frown.

"Now you're sad," she pointed out, her big brown eyes staring hard at me. I could've sworn she was reading my mind.

"I'm not!" I immediately plastered on my biggest smile, but I could tell by the way she pursed her lips that she didn't buy it.

I tried a different approach. "Aren't you excited to go home and watch TV?"

"I am," she answered, her lips pulling up at the edges.

"Well, so am I," I said, tousling her golden hair as I stood up and slid my knapsack over my shoulder. "And here comes your Dad!"

Mr. Cromley smiled as soon as he saw us. He was a short man with hard lines marking his face. His wife had died a year ago, when Lily was just three, but he was always smiling whenever I saw him. There were times that I wondered if he was just faking it. After all, I understood the pain he had gone through, or was still going through. And I knew that the reason why I seemed back to normal was because of a secret I couldn't tell anyone. 

"Daddy!" Lily turned around and ran toward Mr. Cromley with outstretched arms.

"How's your day, my little angel?" he asked, as he carried his daughter in his arms.

"We read about Pinocchio today!" Lily exclaimed, like it was the coolest thing in the world.

"Really?" Mr. Cromley smiled. "And what did you learn from the story?

"Lying is wrong," Lily giggled.

"Of course it is."

Watching this exchange made me want to be a little girl again. I missed how everything was so simple. How the concept of pain was limited to a physical wound that could easily be healed by a soft kiss, not that it actually worked, but still, it did make everything better. Which reminded me...