CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

When my mother returns with Sarah and Caden, we enter into a lengthy discussion about what needs to be done and how we should go about doing it.

Sarah is set on finding the lady who helped dull her effects of being swapped so that I won’t have to go through heat attacks anymore. Her mother is convinced it’d be a waste of time. Caden wants nothing more than to talk with Patrick to see if he really is traitorous liar. I warn him against it. My mother thinks Sarah should meet her real father, just to make things fair. Sarah doesn’t think it’s a good idea. And secretly, neither do I. In order for him to meet his real daughter, I’d have to tell him the truth, and I doubt he is emotionally ready for that kind of information.

We eventually reach a stalemate, at which point, my mother offers to let Caden and I stay for dinner. We accept.

“So tomorrow,” my mum says when we’re finishing off our meals, “do you all agree to keep silent about the Patrick issue?” She’s speaking to all of us, but her eyes are locked onto Caden’s.

I nod. Sarah nods. Caden sighs, then nods.

“Good. But I’ll talk to him about it. If he admits it, then we can consider taking the matter to the council. But even then, I don’t think we should.”

“As if he’ll admit it,” Sarah says, snorting. “He’s been lying for God-knows-how-long. What makes you think he’ll stop now?”

My mother shrugs. “You never know.”

“And if he doesn’t?” I ask. “My visions are always right – isn’t that evidence enough to expose him?”

“Sure,” my mum says, “but I seriously think we should keep this under wraps. We have a better chance of catching him out or getting him to lead us to this nameless group if no one else knows. And an even better chance if he thinks that we don’t know either.”

“Oh, trust me,” I say. “He does.”

“What makes you say that?” Caden asks.

I roll my eyes. “Surely you didn’t notice the way he was acting towards me yesterday? He knew that I was freaked out by him. Plus, I think I made it pretty obvious that I didn’t trust him the first time we met.”

“Well he doesn’t know that I know,” Caden says.

I nearly laugh at him. “That’s because you don’t want to know.”

He shrugs. “Same, same.” But he’s smiling – and the smile is laughing.

And, even though he’s being annoying as hell, I allow my smile to slip onto my face as well, and this time, it doesn’t feel nearly as uncomfortable as it did earlier today.

We eventually get up to leave and say our goodbyes. My mother reaches in for a hug. I don’t object. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says to me.

“See you then,” I reply, not wanting to let go. And when I do, it’s because Sarah’s watching, and I’ve stolen enough from her already.

“Bye, Sarah,” I say and then I follow Caden out of the house, the front door clicking softly shut behind us.

I walk with Caden to the car, and even though the air is still tonight and it’s stopped snowing, I can tell that it must be cold, because Caden walks quickly, his hands in his pockets, white steam billowing from his mouth with every breath. I try to make steam with my mouth – it doesn’t work.

When we reach the car, Caden quickly slips into the driver’s seat, shutting the door immediately behind him. I take a bit longer, enjoying the fresh air. After closing my door, I ask, “Have you driven at night before?”

“No,” he replies, looking sideways at me, “but I’m sure we’ll be fine.” I look into his kind dark brown eyes and decide I believe him.

The ride is silent – no radio, no speaking, no loud and angry thoughts clogging up my brain. I sit in the silence and watch the dark mess of indistinct shapes outside my window pass by, feeling completely comfortable and surprisingly happy.

We eventually come to a stop out the front of a dark house that I vaguely recognise as my own. Even the shadowy sections of it that I can actually see send my heart pounding in my chest. It’s hard to look at it, let alone go inside.

“I can’t go back in there,” I say weakly. I’m squeezing the side of the chair again, but not because I’m scared of letting Caden drive – this time, it’s because of empty hallways, of old pictures hanging on walls, of a dinner table that will never again seat a family but fractions of it, chopped up pieces that are broken and beyond repair. I’m scared of the memories that haunt the living room, the front door, the stairs. But, above all, I’m scared of the person asleep in the room next to mine: the man who isn’t my father and yet is; who once upon a time drank tea instead of caffeinated coffee and cracked terrible jokes when I was sad.

“You don’t have to,” Caden says, and I look sideways at the understanding in his eyes, at the empathy on his face. He faces the road, presses down on the accelerator and we drive into the night.

-:-:-:-:-

Everything is different when we reach Rand’s place. The darkness isn’t so terrifying, the memories aren’t so vivid and my hands sit relaxed in my lap. And yet, when Caden turns off the engine, neither of us makes a move to get out of the car.

“Are you sure Rand will be okay with me staying?” I ask.

“Positive. He has a spare room specifically designed for people who need a place to stay. Besides, things will be easier with you staying with us. No more driving or walking three to five kilometres just to talk.”

“You know, there’s this revolutionary piece of technology nowadays that allows you to talk to people who live far away without leaving your house. It’s called a phone.”

He laughs. “Well, I would use it, but see, you never gave me your number.”

“You never gave me yours,” I counter.

“That’s because you never use your phone. Tell me, do you even have it with you at the moment?”

I shake my head, feeling defeated. He grins.

Silence descends and I still don’t try to leave. Maybe it’s because I’m comfortable or maybe it’s because of the company, but either way, something about the car just makes me feel at home – safe.

I listen to the sound of Caden’s breathing and try to imagine a world in which I didn’t meet him – a place where I never found out the truth and moved forever forward towards an unknown and inevitable death. Meeting Caden changed the course of my life – it saved me from my own destruction. And even though he was specifically told to be friends with me by the council, it doesn’t feel that way. Our relationship feels closer than any artificial friendship, and way too real to be fake. He was there when others weren’t. He understood what most couldn’t. He cheered me up when no one else could. Who cares how it started – what matters is how it continues.

“Caden?” I ask, resting my cheek against the head rest.

“Yeah?” He turns and his eyes meet mine.

“Thank you.”

A light frown appears between his eyebrows. “For what?”

“For understanding. For being here. You don’t have to, but you do. Always.”

He smiles. “Of course. That’s what friends are for.” His smile fades, and for a moment, he looks as if he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t, and for some reason, I feel disappointed. Well, what were you expecting? A declaration of undying love? says a voice in my head.

Shut up, I reply.

Oh great, now I’m talking to myself.

“We should probably go inside,” he says, snapping me out of my internal soliloquy.

I shake my head, blushing slightly, and say, “Yeah, right, of course,” before grabbing the handle, pushing open the door and stepping out.

The atmosphere outside the car is different. There’s no warmth or comfort or pleasant silence – it’s all rough edges and biting air and harsh whispers. The darkness stares at me with empty eyes, its gaping mouth yawning open before me, threatening to swallow me up. I have no choice but to let it as I walk forward, moving closer to the house but at the same time, travelling further from the light. 

Caden follows close behind me and I can practically hear him shivering from the cold. It’s started snowing again and the soft white flecks land on my shoulders and arms, seeming to solidify further as they come in contact with my burning cold skin.

At the door, I raise a hand to knock, but Caden slides a key into the lock beside me before my hand comes in contact with wood. I don’t why I’m surprised he has a key – maybe it’s because I’ve never actually seen him open the door without knocking. He turns the knob and pushes the door open, and I step inside behind him.

“Rand?” he calls out.

“I’m in the living room.”

I follow Caden as he heads down the hallway, towards the sound of Rand’s voice. Most of the lights in the house are off except for the one in the lounge room, its light extending into the hall, casting shadows. I recognise the muffled chattering of a television and as we get closer to the sound, it increases in clarity until I can pick out words and songs. The sound reminds me too much of home, and I block it out.

Then suddenly I’m in the living room and Rand is looking up at me, surprised.

“She needed a place to stay,” Caden explains. “Is it okay if she uses the spare room?”

Rand nods but sends Caden a look that seems to ask what is this about?

I watch as Caden mouths the word later, as if I’m not standing right next to him and completely aware of their silent conversation.

“Do you mind if I go to bed early? I’ve had a long day,” I say to no one in particular.

Caden nods. “Of course. The bedroom’s this way.” He gestures back down the hall and I follow him.

“Good night, Rand,” I say, sending a look over my shoulder at where he sits.

“Sleep well,” he says and even after I’ve turned back around, I can feel his eyes on my back, watching me as I leave.

We walk up the stairs and pass several doors before Caden stops and reaches into a room, flicking on the light switch. I step in and my eyes fall on the ordinary bed, surrounded by ordinary walls and an ordinary sort of carpet. The only interesting thing: a painting of a lake hanging on the wall.

“It’s all yours,” he says.

I walk over to the bed and sit down, running my hand over the white bed spread. “Thanks,” I say, looking up to see Caden leaning against the door jamb.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, but he doesn’t leave, and I get the feeling that he doesn’t want to.

“Um, I’m probably just gonna sleep now, so…”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he says, embarrassed. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” He takes a step back, flashes a small smile and then disappears into the dark.

I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding and stare at the empty space that just seconds ago had been occupied, suddenly feeling very, very alone. Who could’ve thought that one person’s presence could be enough to fill up my whole world?

Sighing, I tear off my shoes, slipping under the covers in my clothes when I remember that I don’t have any pyjamas. Suddenly, I’m making a mental list of all the things I need and don’t have, like clean undies, a change of clothes, my toothbrush and toothpaste, and my hairbrush. I realise then that going back to my house is inevitable – that there’s nothing I can do that will stop me from eventually ending back up in the last place I ever want to be.

Exhaling, I close my eyes and push all thoughts out of my mind. Already, I can feel sleep drawing near, as if it’s been waiting all day for the opportunity to pounce and swallow me up. And it’s not long before it arrives, and I melt into the darkness.