The Unexpected

Chapter 29

Guess what?!?!

This is the last chapter of the book!

What?!  When did this happen?! How did it go by so fast?!

I'm so happy and upset and excited and disappointed at the same time! Darn you, conflicting teenage emotions! Ah!

The epilogue will be posted shortly.

.   .   .

Chapter 29

I didn't know if it was possible to dream when unconscious. I'm still not sure, even now. Was the body the only thing not functioning correctly, I contemplated afterward, or did your mind follow the rest of you to whatever dark place your subconscious designs for you?

I had learned that dreams don't just have to be products of your imagination- Aaden had taught me that, and I was led to wonder if these aspirations came from somewhere buried deeper within.

 Whatever the answer, I lay in that hospital, surrounded by dazzling light, with people rushing around me, and I dreamt.

“Do you remember anything about your dream?” Aaden had asked me. He sat in a straight-backed chair that looked really uncomfortable, and I suddenly felt selfish for relaxing in a comfy hospital bed. I patted the space on the bed that hadn't been taken over with the wires that ran like little snakes from my broken body to the machines that hummed in the silence as I thought, but he refused.

“Not really,” I said, frowning. My voice sounded almost normal again despite the damage Tia had done to my throat. I shifted, embarrassed by my lack of memory. “Just bits and pieces.”

“Do you want to tell me?” he asked, but I knew he wouldn't push it. Always the gentlemen, I thought.

I reached for the one part of my dream I remembered. “It was the night of the party- two weeks ago. It was almost the exact same- the laughter, the song that played when I danced with Zachary, even the conversation I could overhear behind me. Kind of scary if you think about it. The only difference,” I said, confusion in my voice, “is that Tia wasn't even there.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Aaden questioned, his eyes searching mine as they tried to figure out what was bugging me. Today they were the color of a rain-heavy sky, I concluded, or maybe the restless sea.

“I wish it had been completely identical,” I admitted abruptly. “Then I could write it off as a post-traumatic nightmare- I think that's what the doctor called it...”

Aaden looked at me like maybe I had hit my head a little harder than they had thought.

“What are you talking about, Ricki?”

My fingers absentmindedly plucked at the cotton sheets underneath me as I explained. “The next thing I can remember is being in the woods. I was running, tackled from behind, and then pulled back down when trying to stand. That part was all the same, too.” -The memories became so real that I could smell the trees; I could feel the rain pelting down, soaking me- “But then I rolled over, and it wasn't Tia holding me down.” I trained my eyes on my finger as they moved along the sheets, not wanting Aaden to see the tears I was blinking back. My voice was barely audible when I whispered, “You said you would be there, Aaden. Where were you?”

“Ricki.” he pressed, “Who?” But everything about the way he leaned slightly away from my bedside and pressed his palms against his jean-clad thighs told me he had already guessed.

Maybe that was why I was able to form the word on my lips. “You.”

Aaden stayed later than normal that evening. Even when I turned my back to him and closed my eyes, and we both retreated into the silence of our minds, he didn't go. He pretended to watch TV, and I pretended to sleep.

My parents arrived shortly after a third episode of Gilmore Girls started, armed with a quart of birthday cake ice cream and a spoon. Aaden didn't immediately excuse himself like he usually did, but instead shook hands with my father and let my mom pull him into a hug. He looked awkward enveloped in her tiny arms, what with her short frame and petite features.

They all talked for a minute quietly, not wanting to wake me even though I hadn't slept a wink since my dream. Mom remarked how nice it was to for Aaden to take time out of his day to come and visit me, even going so far as to not-so-indiscreetly mention how we would make a cute couple. My dad just frowned.

Eventually the whispers of small-talk trailed off. I could feel three pairs of eyes on my still form as I feigned sleep, but I knew only two were fooled when I heard Aaden say, “I should probably get going. They're going to need me for the dinner rush at Arrows.

“Good idea,” my dad consented without hesitation. “You should leave.”

Even though my eyes were closed I could imagine my mom elbowing him as she laughed nervously. “Go on ahead, Honey. We'll keep her company while you're gone.”

I could feel Aaden move to move closer; I held my breath as, despite the fact my parents were standing not ten feet away, his arm crossed over me to hold his weight inches above my body as leaned down to press his lips softly on my temple. Before I had even registered what had happened they had moved to hover above my ear. “You were right- I wasn't there. I couldn't protect you. I'm so sorry,” he whispered every word, minty breath stirring my hair. “Sweet dreams, Princess.”

Then my dad cleared his throat impatiently, my mom stepped on his foot, and Aaden was gone. His last word, the one thing we still shared for just the two of us, echoed in my ears as the only proof he had actually been here.

“Goodbye...”

.   .   .

Mom tried everything to get me to eat the ice cream she had bought on her way over, but it wasn't until she scooped out a spoonful of the stuff and said, “Here comes the plane!” while making motor noises that I finally relented. “I'm not three,” I grumbled through a mouthful of creamy deliciousness. The smooth, cold dessert felt good in my bruised throat.

“Who does that boy think he is?” Dad was sitting in Aaden's chair, watching some show where these guys have to survive in the wild with only the clothes on their back and a pocketknife. His frown, which had stayed plastered on his face ever since Aaden left, deepened as he looked at me accusingly. “Who does he think he is?!”

“Calm down, David,” my mom scolded. “It's just a boy. One who happened to save Ricki's life, at that. He's smart, and good lookin', too. Ain't that right, Ricki?” She winked at me, smiling happily like everything was perfect and kittens were falling from the sky.

I didn't answer.

“He's trouble, I'm telling you.” Dad shook his head. “I want you to stay away from him. You hear me, Ricki?”

“Sure, Dad,” I replied, wanting to change the topic.

Dad nodded once in finality. “Good.”

My mom stayed with me that night. Her sleeping form lay curled in a reclining chair someone had brought in for her, the empty quart on birthday cake ice cream sitting on the stand next to her. She had finished it off when I announced I was too full to continue, and although I always have room for ice cream, nobody questioned it.

I listened to her untroubled breathing, but I still couldn't sleep. All I could see when I closed my eyes was Aaden's towering form as he pinned me to the damp earth, the remnants of my nightmare playing like a silent movie beneath my tired lids. All I could hear was a word whispered over and over and over, resounding in my thoughts. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

My stomach clenched as I cried, but I wasn't worried about the stitches lining my torso or the throb of pain that came with too much movement. I just cried, and, when I was certain no one would hear me, I whispered to nobody, “Goodbye.”

I slept without dreaming that night, like maybe my mind had retreated to that dark, hidden place in everyone's soul, the cloister you run to when you just need to get away for a while. Without problems, without wounds, without blue eyes and without knives.

It was the best I had slept in what seemed like a long, long time.