Indelible

  “This trip will help Yara practice her skills,” Vovó said.

  “Of course, let’s not plan something just for fun,” I muttered under my breath.

  Brent choked back a laugh. “At Disneyland?”

  “Amusement parks always have many ghosts.” She caught a disapproving look from my mom. “Not angry ghosts, just sad ones who miss life and are trying to recapture it through the happiness of the guests.”

  “Disneyland, the Happiest Place in the Afterlife.” Brent chuckled and smiled appreciatively at his little joke. “Tsmekdy.” Brent said in a slurred voice.

  “Are you okay?”

  Brent’s eyes narrowed and he frowned. He spoke again, “Tnkssubthnrog.” His words were still slurred. In the next instant his eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Brent!” I screamed. Brent sagged back, toppling onto the carpet, his legs rolling to the side. I fell with him, tangled in his limbs, and cried out in pain as my body smashed onto the thick fiber.

  “Brent!” I rolled away, knowing better than to touch him. He had foam gathering at the corners of his mouth. The sour smell of urine flooded my nostrils and the front of Brent’s pants turned wet. “Help! Help! Help!” I screamed.

  The ground started to shake beneath me and I whipped my head to look out the window. A storm was beginning to form in the previously cloudless sky. Our lights started to flicker and the windowpanes rattled. The fire in the fireplace crackled and popped, then leapt upward, shooting a flame thrower-like blast up the chimney.

  A gust of wind blasted past us and a small tornado formed inside the living room, sweeping the Christmas stockings off the wall and onto the floor. The ornaments on the tree swung and the tree crashed over as a furious burst of air swiped at it. It was Brent. Even blacked out he was controlling the elements. Outside, the wind surged and clouds swirled with each jerk.

  Mom was already on the phone, calling an ambulance. She had to yell over the thunder that rumbled outside. Vovó leaned over Brent and held a pillow by his head. I had no idea where my dad was until he came back with a spoon.

  “No, Leonardo, don’t put anything in his mouth.” Vovó commanded. “Just move that chair, it will be over soon.”

  Only the whites of Brent’s eyes were visible while his seizure dragged on. Vovó knew what to do better than dad or I did, and mom already had the ambulance on the way. There was absolutely nothing I could do. I felt completely powerless.

  I felt a familiar tingling sensation in my hands and toes. “Oh no,” I whispered and squeezed my eyes closed. I was overwrought with emotion. My body was prepping itself to project.

  “No,” I growled, focusing all of my energy to keep my body and spirit intact. I couldn’t lose it like this. I had to stay focused so I could be there for Brent. I took a deep breath and centered myself, forcing my breaths to be even and calm.

  “It’s going to be okay, Brent,” I promised. I was on my knees beside him wanting to touch him. His arm twitched and his hand fell on top of mine. I was probably breaking some first aid rule by not pulling my hand away but I couldn’t. I resisted the urge to close my fingers around his hand. Instead I left it there, palm down, the back of his hand resting against mine. I had to curl my fingers into the carpet to keep my hand from turning over and grabbing Brent’s. I wanted to hold his hand, to touch his fevered skin, to bring him comfort but it was more than a want. I needed to.

  I forced my eyes closed, hoping that if I couldn’t see him like this, it would help, but it didn’t. Instead I envisioned my hand turning over, taking his in mine, my fingers sliding between his and interlocking. A feeling of peace settled over me, one so strong my tense muscles relaxed. I could feel Brent’s familiar essence immediately flowing through me. It felt so real that it gave me the strength and courage to open my eyes again.

  I gasped.

  I hadn’t imagined it. My spirit’s hand had left my body and reached through Brent’s body, making direct contact with his spirit. I hadn’t known such a thing was possible. I hadn’t projected; time was still flowing normally around me. Only my hand had left my body. It clung tightly to Brent’s spirit, our fingers interlocking just like I had imagined. It was horrifying and wonderful at the same time.

  Vovó gaped at me, the worry lines around her eyes crinkling, as she stared at my hand pressed into Brent’s body. “Querida, how are you doing that?”

  I shook my head, not knowing. I almost yanked my hand away before I realized that Brent seemed to be getting better. He jerked, although not with as much force. The storm that had raged both inside and out quieted down as his movements calmed. Was it because of me? Could he feel my spirit touching his? Was it comforting him somehow?

  I didn’t know, but in case the answer to any of those questions was yes, I stayed where I was. Brent’s movements slowed, becoming less twitchy until he finally stopped.

  “Hold on, Brent,” I commanded, fear making my voice sound sharper than I had intended. I shook my head and tried again. This time my voice came out much softer. “Hold on. I’ve got you. Help is on its way.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I sat in the hospital’s waiting room alone. The hard plastic chairs were making my butt go numb, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I kept staring at the TV, not really seeing the breaking news event. The latest trashy celebrity magazine they offered lay open on my lap but it didn’t hold my interest. Brent’s parents had been called and were on their way. I set the magazine aside and stood, and headed to the main desk, hoping to get an update.

  Lucia, the medical receptionist, had kind eyes. “I’m sorry sweetheart, but I can’t give you any information on his status.”

  She held out a bowl of brightly packaged candy. “Would you like one?”

  I fished one out. “Thank you.”

  I unwrapped the candy and returned to the waiting room. After forty agonizing minutes of waiting, I projected and searched through the frozen hospital until I found Brent. He was asleep, alone in his room. His chart hung on the outside of his door and I stared at it, trying to make out his diagnosis, but I couldn’t understand the doctor-speak. He seemed to be fine now, lying peacefully in his bed. It wasn’t a lot to go on but it brought me a small measure of peace.

  I snapped back to my body and continued my wait, trying as hard as I could not to make eye contact with the spirits in the hospital so they wouldn’t start speaking to me. I wasn’t in the mood.

  “I’m looking for my son,” a deep voice said at the main desk. “Brent Springsteed. I’m his father, Richard.”

  I looked up and saw an attractive, forty-something man dressed in a classic black suit without a tie. He looked like an older version of Brent, but lacking Brent’s warmth. I hoped his attitude had more to do with his son being in danger than any coldness on his part.

  Lucia held up a finger to him, indicating she was on the phone. He threw an aggravated glance towards a sleek blonde who sidled up next to him. I recognized Brent’s mom from his pictures. I hadn’t met them before. I’d left before they made it to the hospital after the peanut incident.

  “We’re looking for anyone who can give us his room number or information.”

  Lucia held up her finger again and continued her conversation.

  “Did she tell you anything at all?” His mom asked, tugging on her husband’s arm.

  He shook his head. “No Katie, they haven’t said anything.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder, brought a tissue to her nose and dabbed at her tear-filled eyes. “We can’t lose him, too. We’ve already lost Neal.”

  Being in the hospital with their only living child in danger must have been awful. I cleared my throat as I stood from the chairs.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Springsteed?” I called out. They rotated toward me. “Hi, I’m Yara.”

  They exchanged a look then turned back to me, both with lips pressed together. I fiddled with the belt loop on my jeans and shuffled my feet awkwardly.

  “Hello Yara,” his mom said in
a cold voice. “I’m Katie and this is my husband Richard.”

  “What happened?” Brent’s dad asked. “We can’t get anyone to tell us anything.”

  “He had a seizure.”

  “Yes, we knew that much. Do they know what caused it?” His dad snapped. “Do you know how he is? Is he stabilized?” I shook my head. “Do you know anything?” I shook my head again. “Then why are you talking to us?”

  I doubted he wanted an answer, so I kept my mouth shut.

  His mother tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and looked down her perfect nose at me. “You do realize that this is the second time our son has ended up in the E.R. after spending time with you?”

  I stepped back. It was true, but it still felt like a slap in the face. Rationally I knew they were probably only being rude because they were upset, but emotionally it didn’t make it any less painful.

  It took me a moment to be able to nod and answer. “I know but—”

  “As long as we understand each other,” she broke in. Her look could have frozen a raging inferno.

  I nodded again, and pulled so hard on my belt loop that it broke free. My fingers closed around it and I retreated back to my chair. Sitting down, I hunched my shoulders and ducked my head, shrinking under their furious glares.

  They turned their backs to me and started tossing questions at Lucia, who had finally hung up the phone. She answered their questions in a voice too low for me to hear. Without a glance back at me, they turned and went through the double wooden doors. I was alone in the waiting room again, and this time the silence was unnerving. I wished I had never spoken to them.

  I headed to the vending machine to get some something to drink. I deposited my money and made my selection. The machine groaned but my drink didn’t come out. I kicked the machine and slapped it for good measure, but still nothing happened.

  “You know, Cupcake, I didn’t believe the rumors about you and the mirror at school, but seeing you accost that vending machine has made me change my mind.”

  The voice was so out of context at the hospital that it wasn’t until I turned and saw DJ that I believed it was really him.

  “What are you doing here?” I kicked the machine once more.

  “Merry Christmas to you too.”

  I noticed he had a thick white bandage wrapped around his head. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I was just in a fender bender. What are you doing here?”

  “Brent had a . . . seizure.”

  “Sorry.” DJ reached out and squeezed my elbow.

  “Yara Silva, is that you?” A female version of DJ stood behind his shoulder. It had to be his sister, Amy, but the years hadn’t been kind to her. She looked older than she should, and I wondered if she were sick. The dark circles under her sunken, hollow eyes stood out from the unnatural pale whiteness of her skin. She was thin, almost skeletal. Her arm hung in a sling.

  “Hey, Amy.”

  We exchanged hugs awkwardly around her sling.

  “You look good, Yara.”

  I couldn’t return that sentiment so instead I said, “Great way to spend Christmas Eve, huh?”

  “Not the way we planned it.” She adjusted the length of her sling. “What brings you here today?”

  “I’m here because my boyfriend . . . well it’s a long story, and I’m not sure what’s happening with him now.” I forced back the tears swimming in my eyes. “DJ said you were in a car accident? Are you okay?”

  She looked guilty for a second and hesitated before saying, “Yeah . . .”

  “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” DJ said.

  Her smile faltered at his obvious lie.

  “We better go.” DJ gave me nod. “I hope your Christmas gets better.”

  “Yeah, yours too. See you at school.”

  He put his arm around his sister and they exited without looking back at me. I kicked the soda machine one last time and headed back to the waiting room. I stared after them wondering what had happened to DJ, and why he was lying about driving the car.

  After another twenty minutes with no updates, I projected again and snuck back to his room. His parents were both on backless stools. His mom held his hand tight and his dad appeared to be yelling into his cell phone. Brent seemed to be asleep, but his coloring looked good. I didn’t really find out anything new, except that he was alive. And that was like a balm to my worried heart.

  My dad came an hour later to pick me up. I refused to leave without a Brent update, so he sat with me. A few minutes later, the nurse who had been there when the ambulance arrived walked by on her way out. She and I made eye contact and she motioned me over with her hand. Hope sparked inside of me for the first time since I’d arrived at the hospital.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told my dad, following her outside.

  “He’s awake, aware and seems to be fine,” she said as soon as I reached her. “He’s going to be here for a lot longer. They are running some tests, but he’s okay, there doesn’t seem to be any damage.”

  “Do they know—”

  “I really can’t tell you anything else. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” I squinted in the darkness to read her nametag, “Holly. You gave me enough.” I gave her a tight hug. “Your news is the best Christmas present I could have asked for.”

  She patted my back before pulling away. “I would go home. They won’t let you in, and he’ll be in there for hours.” Holly smiled reassuringly before walking away.

  It had rained while I’d been in the E.R. The air smelled clean, full of fresh hope. Exactly like my heart. Puddles of water glistened in the street, reflecting the multi-colored holiday lights that framed the glass door. The world felt beautiful. Brent was going to be okay.

  v

  My family had cleaned up the mess while I was gone. The tree stood a little lopsided, but Brent’s ornament still hung proudly from its branch. As my family celebrated Christmas the next morning, Brent wasn’t far from our thoughts. Around noon I called the hospital and asked to be connected to Brent’s room. It rang two times before his mom answered.

  “This is Katie.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Springsteed. This is Yara. I was calling to see how Brent was doing.”

  “He is awake and conscious. They are still running tests.” I could hear Brent’s voice asking for the phone and a voice I didn’t recognize telling them it was time for another test. “I’ve got to go. I will let you know when we know more.” A click and a dial tone sounded in my ear.

  Her message was loud and clear. Don’t call us we’ll call you.

  Two days later my cell phone rang.

  I stubbed my toe in my haste to make it to the phone and bit back a yelp as I answered with a breathy, “Hello!”

  “Yara?”

  “Brent,” I said, the pain in my toe instantly forgotten. His voice eased the last of the concern I had been feeling about him. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. I’m being released.”

  “Great. Are you going home? I’ll come—”

  He cut me off, “They don’t know what caused the seizure but I seem fine now.”

  “That’s good. Do they—“

  “I’m sorry to keep cutting you off, but my mom is timing this call. I’m on lockdown for the rest of winter break.”

  “Lockdown?”

  “My mom has confiscated my cell phone, computer and laptop. I’m allowed to talk to you twice a day for five minutes. These conversations will be timed.” Brent’s voice sounded hollow but completely serious. “My mom believes that the seizure is stress-related and is forcing me into a week of solitary confinement. I was allowed this call so you’d know. I have to call Steve now and let him know. I love you. I’ve gotta go.”

  He hung up before I could respond.

  “That wasn’t five minutes,” I complained, even though he couldn’t hear it.

  Brent’s mom followed each of the rules and his conversations were timed to the second. His family had d
ecided to celebrate their Christmas on New Year’s while their extended family was still in town, and made it clear it was for family only. Still, Brent had managed to sneak me a few texts. It was definitely anti-climatic to have my phone buzz at midnight and get a New Year’s kiss via text instead of in person.

  It sucked, but I knew it could have been worse. He could have been dead. His mom refused to let him come to school with the rest of us the day before classes started. Instead, she dropped him off the morning before classes.

  By that time, I was itching to see him, and when we saw each other across campus, I dropped my backpack and raced into his arms. He chuckled as he held me close, his citrusy-musky scent washing over me, smelling better than homemade bread, fresh chocolate chip cookies, and kettle corn combined. He pulled me into an alcove and we kissed enough to make up for the two weeks of separation. When it was time for class, I still hadn’t gotten my fill of him but we forced ourselves to go our separate ways.

  v

  After class that afternoon Brent and I strolled hand in hand around campus, catching up. We finally stopped and sat on a bench. I leaned my head on Brent’s shoulder, not able to truly believe he had been so sick. He looked perfectly refreshed and healthy. I had been upset with his mom for his forced R&R, but it looked like it had worked. I took his hand in mine, stroking my thumb across his knuckles.

  “Yara, I have a really strange question to ask you,” Brent said. He stopped and cleared his throat. “Did something unusual happen during my seizure?” He gave an unhappy laugh. “Something besides wetting myself in front of you?”

  I hadn’t told him about that and decided to ignore that statement because it didn’t matter. “Not really.”

  He pursed his lips and looked like he was ordering his thoughts. “One minute I was out of it, not even aware, and then the next it was like . . . ” Brent paused and looked me in the eye, blushing so deeply he looked sunburned. “Never mind.”

  “What? The next minute, what?”

  Brent brought his free hand to his lips, and chomped on his pinkie nail. “The next minute it was like . . . I don’t know how to explain it. It was like I could just, feel you. You know. Everywhere. Like you were part of me. Kinda sounds crazy huh?”