FALL (DIMENSION Series #1)

CHAPTER 15

I stood in my room as it got darker outside. I held on to Estella and I didn't move. I didn't want to turn on the light. I didn't want to change anything. I just wanted to be in the semi-dark, standing in the same place I'd stood with Derek.

      I was still euphoric. Everything around me looked better than before. And everything touched me on a deeper level. Estella's soft fur under my fingers. The sun going down—scattering its final light across the trees as they turned into dark silhouettes.

      My phone was on my desk. I was vaguely aware that I needed to check it. But I was in too much of a daze to do anything about it.

      I kept replaying the time with Derek in my mind. How he'd taken a step toward me, spoken my name, placed his hand on my shoulder. How we'd talked to each in hushed tones and how I'd felt a strong connection with him. Something that was tangible.

      And he'd stayed close to me until my mother returned. He remained accessible. His eyes stayed two shades of green and the golden flakes across them remained the same bright shade of gold. Unlike the other times when I'd spoken to him, he hadn't disappeared. He hadn't taken flight from himself. He'd stayed with me. In light of this, I didn't think he had Asperger's. I didn't think he was on the spectrum at all.

      There was so much to dissect. The time with him had been intense but fleeting. There were things he'd said that I needed to consider more thoroughly. And there were things he hadn't said that I needed to consider as well.

      I was surprised to find out that he'd wanted to meet my dad. But I wasn't surprised that he hadn't told me about it when he'd stood so close to me. Our time, in that cocoon, had been about us. We hadn't discussed anyone else. It would have broken the spell.

      But now that he was gone, I wondered about it. It seemed to have something to do with physics. But what exactly had it been about?

     My mother entered my room with a tray, and the smell of the food snapped me out of my reverie. I sat down at my desk. I was ready to eat. Next to a large bowl of cheesy pasta, was my phone.

     I tried to be nonchalant about the phone. I was suddenly curious to see if Derek had written me prior to show up to my house. I expected that he had. To tell me he was coming and also to explain the reason he'd wanted to see my dad. I was ready to read his text. Or maybe even several texts. My heart fluttered at the possibility of new words from him.

     It wouldn't be a good idea for my mother to know that I was anxious to read a text from someone. My mother would catch on quickly. And then there would be an endless series of questions and I wasn't up for it.

     "Your friend has left," my mother announced, as if she'd sensed my preoccupation with Derek despite my efforts to conceal it.

     She was leaning against the doorframe, watching me eat. She'd turned on the overhead light and I was still squinting, getting used to the room's sudden brightness.

     I nodded at her. My mother referring to Derek as my friend instead of Derek, was her way of telling me how she felt about him. Her feeling could be summed up in two words: not good.

     I glanced out the window once, trying hard to be casual about it. I didn't want my mother asking me any questions. But at the same time, I couldn't stop myself from checking to see if I might catch a glimpse of Derek in the dark yard. But the yard was empty. He had already left.

     I was dying to know why Derek had come to see my dad. I kept waiting for my mother to expand on it, but she didn't. This was another way in which my mother expressed her disapproval. She refrained from being critical in a direct way. Instead she just withheld any enthusiasm or any discussion about a person she didn't care for. As if the person wasn't really worthy of being discussed. The fact that she didn't comment on the most obvious fact about Derek—his extreme good looks—made me know that she didn't like him.

     Derek had a kind of detached air about him. His self-sufficiency would be an indication to my mother that he was a cool person and also mature for his age. I knew even before she met him that she'd consider him trouble.

     And of course I knew now, more than ever, that it was important for my mother never to know my true feelings about Derek. Those would have to be suppressed and hidden. And if she ever guessed at my infatuation, I'd have to deny it.

     Any information about Derek's meeting with my dad would have to be obtained directly from my dad. And that too, would have to be done at the right moment—when my mother wasn't around.

     I focused on eating. The pasta was good. It made it easier to ignore the phone for a while.

     "Thanks Mom," I said after I'd cleaned the bowl and wiped my mouth.

     "More?" my mother asked. She looked relieved that I was eating. Like it was a clear signal of my health returning to me.

     "No thanks," I said. "This was plenty."

     I was ready for her to leave so I could look at my phone in private. I got up and handed my plate to her. It seemed clear that taking it back to the kitchen would take me too long.

     "I think I'll try to sleep for a while," I said, and my mother looked even more relieved.

     "Let me know if you need anything else," she said, and smiled at me.

     I could tell she was relieved that I hadn't brought up my school friend for further discussion. I nodded and walked over to my bed, clutching my phone in my hand.

     I settled onto my bed, leaning back against the myriad of pillows. Estella jumped up and found her usual spot next to my legs. I placed my hand on her silky head. There was nothing like a cat on your bed to make you feel right at home.

     I waited until I heard my mother walking down the stairs and then I turned over my phone. There was a myriad of texts. Plastered over one another in a manner that made it impossible to see who they were from.

     I felt my heart speeding up at the prospect of a message from Derek. A little note—the possibility of which I couldn't have foreseen a week ago.

     But I really needed it now. He'd just been in my room, but already I missed him. I was starting to feel withdrawal symptoms. I longed for him. My recent closeness to him made me crave him. The physical reality of his hair and his eyes and his voice. But in the absence of those, I needed his words. His sentences.

     "Please let there be a text from Derek," I said under my breath. I had never really beseeched the universe for any favors. But this seemed like the perfect time to start.

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NEXT NEW CHAPTER ON MONDAY, DECEMBER 9

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