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AT FIRST, I DIDN’T know where I was—or even who I was. Shadowy silhouettes swirled around me, the darkness pierced by the sound of voices. A man and a woman, not too far away, talking together and sharing a laugh. I crouched in the dark, listening without hearing words, comforted by the familiarity in their tones.
Suddenly, a cohesive phrase leapt from the quiet murmur of conversation. “Well, don’t keep her waiting, darling. You know how antsy she can get.”
The man laughed. “Oh, I’m just waiting for her to come bursting out of nowhere, asking why I’m taking so long.”
His response made me smile automatically. That had to be my father; there was no mistaking his warmth. Part of me wished I wasn’t so enshrouded in shadows so I could see his face. But another part was strangely, guiltily grateful for the anonymity.
It didn’t last long. I heard him walking slowly across the floor on the opposite side of what must have been a door. “Amber,” he called. “Where are you?” The lilting, singsong quality of his words left a haunting impression on my mind. I fought the inexplicable urge to throw the door open.
My father’s footsteps drew gradually closer. He was invisible in the dark, until a shocking burst of light enveloped and blinded me. I shielded my eyes. When I finally opened them, I was looking up into a face I couldn’t quite make out. His features were obscured by the brilliance illuminating him from behind, as if he were positioned directly in front of the sun.
“There you are!” Though his face remained a blank canvas, nothing hid his smile. “Looks like I finally found you, didn’t I?”
“Uh huh. And now it’s my turn!” I didn’t recognize the high, girlish voice that emerged from my lips. My mind raced. How old am I? Three? Four?
“It certainly is,” my father said. “Cover your eyes and count to ten. I won’t make this round easy for you.”
Bowing my head, I placed hands that felt far too small across my eyes. “One...two...three...” I could only assume my father was hurrying away in search of a hiding spot that might appease a toddler. Not too obvious, not too difficult. A happy middle ground.
But after I spoke the word “Ten!” aloud and uncovered my eyes, he was gone, and not just out of sight. The empty loneliness was palpable, as if he had, in fact, never existed at all. I reached out a hand and pushed through the wall of shadow into the world beyond. It was lit in shades of solemn, austere grey.
“...Dad?” My voice was my own again, my body the right size. I glanced around. A path stretched out in front of me as far into the distance as I could see. The further it got, the more it branched off into innumerable ends. What waited down those paths, it was impossible to know. But I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.
I had to find my father.
“Dad!” The word echoed hollowly down the passage I followed, eliciting no response. The tall, broad-shouldered, blond man I recalled only vaguely was nowhere to be seen. Anxious for at least a clue to his location, I picked up the pace into a slow jog, my eyes and ears open. Moving through the silence was like swimming in an invisible ocean.
Then I turned a corner and saw him standing at the end of a long, narrow corridor. He was very, very still, in a way that made my blood run inexplicably cold.
“Dad?” I said for a third time, soft and uncertain. He still didn’t answer.
Despite the fact that every fiber in my body warned me not to approach, I made my way toward him. He didn’t budge an inch; I wondered if he was even breathing. Maybe I’d come around to his front and see that he’d been a statue all this time—or a corpse. I stifled a shudder.
“Ambrose.”
I almost didn’t catch it as he whispered my name. It traveled across the space between us and struck me right in the chest, burrowing toward my heart. I stopped in my tracks, wide-eyed.
“What is it?” I asked, unsure whether or not I really wanted a reply.
His head began to pivot on his neck until one eye watched me from the side. “Turn around,” my father told me. “Turn around and run.”
I gasped myself awake in the bed, both hands clenched into fists around the bedspread. My skin was cold and clammy; I could tell I’d been sweating in my sleep. Brushing a cold, damp strand of hair out of my face, I took a shaky breath.
Turn around and run.
“What the heck was that about?” My hands trembled. I drew my legs in tight against my body. In the wake of the eerie dream, the room around me felt enormous, much too big for one person.
And as always, I was alone. The only constant in my life was that thick, oppressive silence. It was becoming my only friend.
If I let it, the sadness would weigh me down until I couldn’t move. In defiance, I threw back the blankets and swung my feet down onto the floor. The polished wood was cold on my skin, refreshingly so. I sat there for a moment, feet on the ground, reestablishing a connection with reality.
Then I lifted my gaze toward the door. It seemed safe to assume Colvin was still on the other side, exactly as he said he’d be. I thought I could almost sense his presence in the hall. Angry, perhaps. Definitely disappointed. But unwavering in his loyalty, no matter what hardships we went through together.
Even the act of thinking about Colvin made my heart ache. The isolation gnawed at me with each passing minute. I was being devoured alive by shame, regret, misery. There was only so much abject wallowing one human being could take.
I needed companionship, to connect with someone else. And I desperately wanted that someone else to be Colvin. He was there outside the door, less than thirty feet away. What did I have to lose?
I got up from the bed and walked across the room. With my ear against the door, I listened. Then I knocked gently on my side. “Colvin?” I paused. “Are you there?” Another pause. “Please, can we talk? I don’t want to be by myself in here anymore.”
He didn’t reply right away; I hardly expected him to. Resting my back against the solid wood frame, I slid down until I was sitting on the floor, arms on my knees, waiting for Colvin to say something back.
