Insight Page 16

  “I helped my dad. It felt good.” Talking feels good. Out loud. “His fiancé. I mean, I don’t know if we actually helped her or not, but it feels like it, and right now, that’s enough for me.” My eyes search through the trees, but I still see nothing.

  A chill runs through me. That’s my sign it’s time to go in. I walk the rest of the way to the house rubbing my upper arms with my hands and staring at the path in front of me. Now that I’m no longer talking, and it isn’t my idea, I really don’t want to see anything. Even if it doesn’t exist. Or maybe especially if it doesn’t exist.

  TWENTY-TWO

  “I’m glad to see you looking a little more normal.” Mom’s smile is wide as she sets down the mail and walks into our small living room.

  It’s been…well, I’m not sure how long it’s been. At least two weeks since Landon and I split.

  “Dad’s fiancée’s in the hospital, but she’s okay.” And maybe because I helped. Maybe.

  “And that’s why you’re happy? I thought you liked her?” Mom’s brows came together in confusion.

  Right. How do I explain this? “Well. It was a, uh, heart attack, and she’s okay, so it could have been a lot worse.”

  “Right.” Her smile is back. “Well, I’m glad she’s okay then. And still surprised your father’s found someone.” She brushes my shoulder with her hand on her way past. “I’m off to find some pajama pants.”

  Bright white, fear, black.

  I suck in a breath, and panic sweeps through me again. What is this?

  “You okay?” Mom half turns in the hallway.

  “Uh.” what do I even try to say? “I forgot about an assignment.”

  “You’ve really been acting funny, Micah. I’m starting to get worried.” Mom steps toward me again.

  “I’m okay.” I nod, but my breath is still coming in all shallow. I pull her into a hug and see myself, and feel how I’m loved. Weird picture gone.

  “Why don’t we hang out tonight? Maybe do a frozen pizza, movie night?” she suggests.

  “Sounds great.” Anything for an actual excuse to ignore everything else for a few hours. And a reason for me to think about what I’m going to say to Landon before I attempt to talk. If I can do it.

  All night I touch Mom over and over. Brush my leg against her as I re-shift on the couch. Use her shoulder as I stand up. Each time I see me or Ethan and feel how she feels for each of us. What does this mean? Am I broken? And what is the black and white picture? There’s no detail at all. None. I don’t even know if I can recognize it as being from Mom. But it has to be, right? Because that’s how they always are. But if it doesn’t stick around, does it count?

  I don’t want to think about this. At all. I don’t want to be seeing things in the woods. I don’t want to see things I don’t understand—especially from Mom. Actually, I don’t want to see anything when I touch people. Ever.

  Right now, all I want is Landon. I just have no idea how to make it happen.

  ***

  “Would it be okay if I didn’t come home tonight?” Mom’s sitting at the table with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. “I’ve been worried about you, but also I’d like to—”

  “Fine, why?” I don’t want to hear what she wants to do with her time. I take a bite of cereal. “And didn’t we already discuss this?” I brush against her on my way to the table. It’s all Ethan today. I wish the pictures of them kissing went away more quickly. At least there’s no mystery vision. And I’m getting almost used to the misery that comes with losing Landon. It just sort of follows me, along with the stupid visions I wish I could erase.

  “We did already talk about it. But you’ve scared me.”

  “Sorry. I’m okay, Mom. A few things just took me by surprise, that’s all.” Landon and I fighting, seeing things in the woods, odd visions that I don’t understand…

  “Are you and Landon…?”

  “Not ready to talk about that yet.” At least I’m eating now. I take another bite of Cheerios.

  “It’s not good to keep things inside, Micah. It’ll mess with your head.” She chuckles like she’s teasing. But I already know how keeping things inside will mess with your head. You’ll get in fights you don’t want to have. Feel anxious around the people you love most, and see things in the woods that may or may not be there. It’s awesome.

  “I’m just going to stay up late, watch movies, and crash.” It would have been my plan no matter what Mom wanted to do.

  “No wild parties?” She smirks.

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “I worry about how much of a loner you are.”

  “Trust me. It’s better this way.” I have this great knack for really screwing things up.

  She shakes her head and lets out a breath. “The side of you that’s like your father, I don’t understand.” She’s smiling, though. We’re okay.

  “I’m glad about you and Ethan.” Now that I’m falling apart, Mom really needs someone stable.

  “Me, too.” She leans against the sink, facing me. “I didn’t. I mean, I wasn’t looking for anything, you know?”

  “I know.” I wasn’t either. But it found me anyway, and then chewed me up like I expected it would.

  ***

  I ditch my movie night for a book, The City of Ember. It’s so full of hope. I’ve read it before, and I’ll probably read it again. But I know how it ends, so I’m bored. The house is filled with a silence I’m not used to, but I can’t think of anything that would tempt me to leave. Not fresh air, not the ocean. Anyway, alone in my house is not a good time to go tempting shadows in the woods.

  I roll over in bed and turn on my small TV. Ferris Bueller, of course. It’s always on. I know how this ends too, but it’s just getting started. I set the timer for my TV to turn off in an hour and lie back down. Better. The house is no longer quiet.

  There’s tapping on my window.

  I drop to the floor, my heart pounding. Who is it? What is it? Why did I say it was okay for Mom to be gone?

  “Micah? It’s Landon.” He’s half-whispering, half-talking.

  I breathe in and relax. At least it’s not some ghost or shadow or anything. Wait. It’s Landon. I scan my room. This is it. The vision that turned from one of passion, into one of comfort.

  Are Landon and I going to be okay? Do I want us to be? I suddenly don’t feel as tied to my visions as I once did. I mean, I think I changed my fate near the fire. I think. And Dad and I helped Carol, I’m pretty sure. It’s just hard to tell. Carol’s fight with her heart might go on for a long time.

  He knocks again.

  Am I still mad at him? Too mad to talk? The way I miss him crushes my chest.

  “Are you awake in there?” He knocks again. “I need to say that I’m sorry.”

  I take a huge breath in, forcing my chest to move, and unlock my window to pull it open.

  “You could have just knocked on the door,” I say, only my voice sounds all funny.

  And this is good. We’ve both said things, and neither of us has yelled.

  “But your mom.” He’s standing outside with a T-shirt, light jacket, and jeans, pressed against the side of the house, caught between the branches and the siding. I wonder how he navigated through the giant bush outside my window.

  “She’s gone for the night,” I whisper. My body doesn’t have the strength for anything else. What am I doing? Can I handle it if we have another issue? Argument? I don’t know. I’m still not sure if I want to find out. Part of me feels pulled into Dad’s vision. If he sees us at his wedding, we must go, right?

  But things can be changed. Probably this is when I need to decide what I want and make that happen.

  “I wish I’d known that before I had to climb through the bushes of death to come see you.” He crawls through my window and rolls off my bed, keeping his feet off my blankets.

  “The bushes of death?” I almost laugh again, but I know it’ll come out strange. I’m nervous. He’s here, in my room. Guess we�
�re talking.

  “Have you gone out your window?” He looks back to the hole he just crawled through.

  “Uh, no. I actually have this preference for doors. They work pretty awesome. They have handles. You can stand upright while you walk through…” I fold my arms in front of me, realizing how exposed I am. In so many ways. What are we? Anything? Something? Nothing?

  “Yeah, thanks.” He eyes wander around my room.

  It’s like we’re both trying too hard to pretend like everything’s normal, when things between us are definitely not normal.

  Just ask, Micah. “Why are you here?” Why is that question so scary?

  “You should hate me forever. I’m sorry.” His eyes don’t leave my face. “It’s killing me to not see you, to not talk to you. That’s never happened to me before.”

  All of the words that have passed between us hit and knock around at my insides. Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me? You knew and did nothing!

  “I don’t hate you, Landon. I should have—”

  “I can’t imagine what you’ve carried with you. Seeing what you did. I’m so sorry, and now that I think about what I said to you and what—”

  “But you were right. About all of it.” That’s what made it all so hard to hear. He told me everything I already knew. I should have done something.

  “No. No I wasn’t right.” He’s shaking his head. “About any of it. I was just shocked, Micah, and angry. It all came out, and it shouldn’t have. Not like that. I hadn’t given myself a chance to be sad over her. Not really. And then you…the way I like you hit me fast, you know? Then when you told me something I felt like you should have said way near the beginning, and it happened on the same night as our thing for Lacey. It was just hard.”

  “Of course you were right. You were right on everything. It was all things I already knew. I should have told my mom what I do a long time ago. I could have told her. She could have come up with ideas. I don’t know.” It’s so exhausting. It seems like this is something I should be screaming, or crying, but I’m too tired to do that. I was right. Landon was right. I messed up and a girl died. The responsibility is overwhelming.

  “I’ve re-played what I’ve said to you over and over in my head. It kills me how I must have made you feel. Micah, I’m so, so sorry.” He reaches out to touch me, but lets his hand drop between us.

  He knows how personal it is. Even just something simple like resting his hand on my shoulder. Any amount of touch. Or maybe he’s afraid, worried about what I’ll see from him.

  All of my guilt over Lacey comes back, making me weak, even though he’s standing here trying to make me feel better about it. “I should have...” I fall to sitting on my bed. Grief and guilt pouring through me again.

  “No.” He shakes his head, and sits on his knees in front of me. “Knowing the small amount I do about what you see? There was nothing there to go on. Shoot, Micah. It could have been something that had already happened, or something that wouldn’t have happened for months!” He exhales. “I was just so in shock, and when you’re a guy, you hate feeling that way so you just get pissed. And now I sound like my shrink.” He shakes his head.

  I’m silent. Logically, he’s right, but I still feel like I screwed up.

  “It’s not your fault, Micah.” And as much as I love the Landon that laughs and jokes at everything, I sorta love this one, too. The one who looks through me, into me, and is both forgiving me, and telling me I did nothing wrong.

  “You’ve said that to me before.” That it wasn’t my fault, just before announcing his new hourly wage during his drunken rant on the dock.

  “Oh, right.” He runs his hand over his hair. “I know. I’m sorry. I…if you hadn’t come down that night. Micah, I let her down, and then I felt like I’d let you down. My oldest brother is getting married to a niece of Donald Trump or something. Dad’s pissed at me because I haven’t even tried to be discreet about stealing his alcohol, and I felt like I...”

  He doesn’t need to say the words.

  I step toward him and put my arms around him. The ache in my chest is the hurt between us, and also how much I’m starting to love him. Contentment. Sleepiness. His arms around me. Our bodies together on my bed. I press my face into his chest, and I take a few very careful breaths in, trying not to cry in relief.

  “I’ve missed you, so much.” His arms are tight around me, and all I can do is soak this moment up, because I don’t want it to end.

  “Me, too.” Worth the risk? I can’t even care or think about that. He feels too good.

  “I saw this.” I clutch him tighter. “When you were on the dock.”

  “Wait.” He keeps his arms around me, but pulls back enough to see my face. “Micah, did you let me in because you want me here, or because you saw me here and think it’ll just happen?”

  I squeeze him more tightly, but let my eyes meet his. “I learned something. I can change things, Landon. I mean, I think I can. Maybe not a lot, but I can a little. If I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here.” His eyes are too intense—I have to look down. I’m not sure how much I believe what I just said to him, but I want to believe it and that counts for something.

  “Any other visions I should know about?” There’s an edge of tease to his voice, but it’s still soft.

  “My dad sees you at his wedding, so, would you like to go to Maine? To my dad’s wedding?” A burst of air comes out of my mouth, a half-laugh? A chuckle? I’m not sure. It feels foreign.

  “I’d love to.” He kisses my cheek. “Anything else?”

  I suck in a breath and then know I want to tell him everything. “You stay here tonight.”

  “Wow. Well, that’s one I want to be tied into.” His lips find mine and he pulls me to the bed. I follow, it’s almost impossible not to. I feel the pull in my hands, my chest, his arms…

  In moments, we’re lying on my bed, facing one another. Our legs rest together, and I wish that someone could slow time.

  “I’ve never tried to forgive anyone before. Did you know that?” he asks. Both our heads rest on my pillow.

  “No.” Our fingers lace through each other.

  “I want you to know that I’ve thought about you almost constantly. It’s like the simplest thing in the world, right? To know someone’s sorry, and to know that really, they’re more important than the action that hurt you?”

  His admission stabs at my chest. I hurt Landon. The sucky thing is that I knew I would. I knew when I passed that first opportunity to tell him, that it would eventually come out, and I’d hurt him. I don’t speak—just wait for him to continue.

  “But I didn’t get that. I’ve been holding on to anger against my brothers, my parents, a ton of people.”

  “So, your shrink is suddenly worth his money?” I tease.

  “Hell, no.” He laughs. “But I love being around you, Micah. I love how grouchy you are about being around people, and I love how much you feel. And that as much as I hate how we fought, I feel closer to you than I ever thought I’d feel to anyone. Because I love you way more than I was mad. I just wasn’t expecting to feel that much for someone I just met. You’re too good to hurt me on purpose.”

  I have no words. Not for this. I’m staring at his lips. I lean forward, but he meets me halfway, kissing me softly. He’s so careful with me, so slow.

  “I love this…being with you.” His hand runs through my hair.

  “Me, too.” And I feel it. I love the way he loves the water, and how he is with me. How he wanted to help Lisa. How broken he was over losing a friend. Landon feels things deeply, and most importantly, he gets me. Is it love right now? I’m not positive, but if it’s not, it will be.

  And for the first time ever, I’m grateful for my gift. For the first time I see it as a gift. I would have never attempted talking to him if I hadn’t seen what I saw the first day we touched. What’s happening between us would have never happened. The thought of that isn’t bearable. This moment is
worth everything. Worth the risk. My arms wrap tightly around him, and he holds me close. We share the warmth, the warmth of him, of me—it all mixes together into something that makes me feel home.

  I let myself relax and slowly fall asleep to the sound of his heart, the feel of his warmth against me, and his slow, relaxed breaths.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Mom’s shuffling in the kitchen. The noise of the kitchen door clacking is pretty distinctive. Light’s pouring through my window. Landon’s body is cradled behind me, and his arm’s still resting around my waist. He’s so warm I don’t want to move, but the thought of Mom walking in forces me to.

  Landon’s still in his clothes from the night before, and I watch him sleep for a moment sort of in disbelief that he’s here.

  There aren’t secrets between us now. I’m promising myself that I’ll tell him what I see anytime he asks. He knows about Lacey, and he knows what I do. It’s all huge, and it strips away the things that rested between us.

  I want to snuggle back in against him, but I’d rather prepare Mom. I tiptoe out, and close the door quietly behind me.

  Mom’s reading in the kitchen.

  “What time is it?” I whisper.

  “Ten thirty.” She looks at me over her book.

  “I didn’t expect you home until later on today.” Maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to say seeing as there’s a guy in my bed.

  She’s still staring.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Did he stay the night last night?” She nods toward my door.

  I can feel the beginnings of what’s probably going to be a ridiculous grin. Of course she’d already know he’s here. She probably checked on me as soon as she walked in the door.

  She lets her book rest on the table. “Did you two—”

  “No, Mom. I mean. We didn’t...” I walk to the window with hot cheeks, knowing what she’s looking for. I know we have this share things between us, but I don’t think I’m ready to talk about Landon and sex.

  She stands up and hugs me. Tightly. “I’m proud of you, for not.”

  Flash of white, stab of fear, everything’s black. And then Ethan’s face, but just briefly.