out of sync

1.

"Melody," she sighed, pulling me into a hug. Her sleek, straight hair felt oddly familiar against my cheek and I could feel her necklace poke into my chest as she pressed me close. She stepped back with her hands on my shoulders to examine me, like an auntie would at a family reunion. Normally, I'd squirm under her analytical gaze, but I didn't have it in me to care. She pulled me inside, talking non-stop, but I couldn't focus enough to understand any of her chatter. Behind her, I saw Elliot trailing up the stairs with my luggage as she walked me into the kitchen.

I glanced at the kitchen table that we'd sat at together around this time 6 years earlier, making bracelets while cookies baked in the oven. Elliot and Mia had moved to The Island the previous winter, and she and I had begged incessantly for visits back and forth. Our efforts were completely fruitless until the summer came around and our parents agreed that I could spend almost the entirety of the school holiday at their new home. Those first few days—mornings spent walking every inch of The Island, afternoons huddled around that very same table—were some of my most cherished memories.

I was pulled out of my daydream when she cleared her throat. She shifted on her feet uncomfortably; another reminder that even though we were in the same room, we weren't nearly as close anymore. I smiled at her weakly, trying to find it in me to ask a question, any question, to make up for the fact that I'd essentially ignored her for the last five minutes. And the last six years.

I came up empty.

"I moved my lesson with Sam to the afternoon today, if you want to come," she offered.

I looked out the window, in the direction of Bright Fields, even though the stables were far out of sight, over the hills. When I returned my gaze to Mia, she almost looked hopeful. My gut twinged a bit as I shook my head no, glancing down at my feet.

"I'm really tired from the trip, I think I'll just go to bed once I get unpacked," I muttered, half-heartedly.

"Right," she sighed. Suddenly, the kitchen was filled with the noise of her boots clicking as she gathered her things to leave. She said something to me before she walked out of the door, but by the time I had even registered that I was being spoken to, she was gone; another sentence had been lost in the air around me.

I felt like a ghost inhabiting my own body—my thoughts and feelings were out of sync and almost too tangled to even recognize. I struggled to remember the last time I'd really conversed with someone, rather than just being spoken at while I attempted to process. It really couldn't have been that long ago; I had been training for the first demonstration of the year at home in Bath just last month, focused and present.

This would be easier if I were actually a ghost, I thought. Then, at least, everyone else would stop bombarding me with their own reactions to my grief.

I suddenly became aware of the dull throb in my feet; I hadn't moved from my spot in front of the kitchen table since I'd entered, and they were now achingly numb.

Ghosts also don't get aches in their feet, if they have them, I noted.

Eventually, I'd have to find a way out of this mental limbo, even if it meant dragging myself around cluelessly in the meantime. I could do anything, really, as long as it distracted me from the dread buried in my heart; the voice telling me that this was how it was going to be, now and forever.

——

Upstairs in what was to be my bedroom, I stared at my bags, neatly stacked at the foot of the double bed by Elliot. I considered opening one, at least the one with my toiletries inside, so I would have some incentive to shower before I slept. I was still wearing the clothes I had been in two days prior, when mum told me that Elliot would be arriving to take me to stay with he and Mia for a few months while she sought treatment.