Restless

5: Ways to Run

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"Even the river's ways to run, even the rain to reach the sun"

Even though I acted calm meeting him, that boy made a difference. 

The worst of it was, he reminded me of my dad. 

I suddenly felt really emotional, sick even, like I needed to get out of there. This is bad. I don't know why yet, but it's bad. I shouldn't feel like this. Not here, not now. I called my mom to pick me up, but she didn't answer. I knew the address, so there was no point in waiting. I started to walk home. Home. Since when do I call it that? Stupid, A. You're being stupid. You'll never be home again. I pinched myself for thinking like that, and headed to the cottage. I walked for about twenty minutes before I realized I was not in Oak Bluffs anymore. I looked around, but couldn't find anything, no landmarks. I turned and walked directly the way I had come, and retraced my steps exactly. I had apparently been going the wrong way since the store. I was supposed to exit the store and take a left, I went right. Feeling stupid, again, I walked towards the street the house was on.

I saw a bicycle parked outside the house, and it took me a second to recognize it. It's Lemon Boy's. He was here? I dropped my bag on the porch and ran inside. "Mum?! Mom, I think--" I stopped. He was sitting at our kitchen table. He looked at me, shocked. 

After a second, he said, "I-- I, uh, saved you a glass." He pushed a tall glass of lemonade towards me.

My mom looked at me, sternly. Take the glass, honey. She sometimes could say all she needed with a look. "So, how did you two meet?" she asked. I was flustered. I ran upstairs. I have no idea why I was so scared of him. 

--

There she was again. My girl. So SHE's Laura's daughter.  Wait, did I just call her 'my girl'? Well, it did seem like I had known her forever. Lissa. She was Lissa. I couldn't look away. I pushed the glass towards her, and she ran away. Was it something I said? Or, didn't say? 

I looked at my dad, then her mom, and hurried up the stairs after her. I found her crying on her bed. She didn't see me, so I watched. It started to rain outside, and I wondered if it was because she was crying. She seemed to be the reason for everything. Was I dreaming? Certainly, I couldn't have met Lissa. She's just a dream. Suddenly she looked up at me. 

"What do you want, bike boy?" she spat. Wow. Did not expect that one. I started into her room, cautiously. I didn't want to upset her.  She spoke again. "You can't be here." What? What does she mean?

"In your room?" I hoped that's all she meant. "Or... in your house?"

"In my life, stupid. You're just... ugh. You wouldn't get it. Okay? Please just leave me alone. I don't understand you." I thought I understood you.

"Look, what's wrong? I just met you." Well, she just met me. I hesitated for a second, "I-- don't even know your name," I lied. I sat on the corner of her bed.

"It's just... I feel like I know you. Okay? And that's not good." I wondered if she felt how I felt. Every time I met her in my dreams, she died. I'm just waiting for her to die now to tell me this is just a dream. 

"Are you by any chance... Lissa?" I regretted asking it as soon as it came out of my mouth. She gasped.

"Get out of here! Get out! Now!" she screamed. What? Why? I sort of half-fell off of her bed and stumbled out the door. I took one last look at her while I closed the door. She started crying again. I went to my room and stretched out on my bed, to replay what had just happened. Just as I sat down, I heard her thunder down the staircase. I held my breath to listen to her. "MOM! Did you tell them? Please don't tell me you told them!" Told us what? Her mom spoke quietly, so I started to come down the stairs to listen. I only picked up some of her words. 

"Of course.. didn't... you know... than that... honey... apologize to him." I hopped up the stairs two at a time and just rolled onto my bed when she threw open the door. 

"Sorry I screamed at you." I released my held breath.

"Sorry I hit a sore subject." She glanced away, then back at me. She tried to smile. Her face was still spotty from crying.

"Alice Woodstone." she held out her hand. Alice. I stood up and shook it. 

"Michael Dupree."

I dreamed of her again that night. She didn't die.