The cold is the first thing I notice when I stir. Before opening my eyes, I know it’s one of two possibilities: either Kenna has left during the night, or I’m back in my world.
I open my eyes to my modern bedroom, and immediately I worry about the beast. When will I see him again? Will he be okay?
When I look in the mirror, my eyes are bloodshot, dark circles beneath them. Further evidence of the lack of sleep from tossing and turning. In my nightmares, the beast was killed in the attack, the arrow piercing his heart. I lost count of how many times I woke up screaming, Kenna’s soothing words and hand running up and down my back, the only comfort during a bleak night.
Because of this, I expected to wake up in the prison world again. I’m not sure how I’ll make it through the day, or however many days I’m stuck here without knowing if he really survived.
* * *
I struggle to go through the motions while I get ready for the day, and again on the drive to work. I park behind the bookstore, then walk to grab coffee for Huxlee and me. Before walking inside, I take a steadying breath and paste on the best smile I can.
As soon as I enter the store, Huxlee looks up from the book she’s reading at the counter and quickly comes around and makes her way to me.
“What happened, Callie? Is it your parents?” She frantically searches up and down my body, making sure I’m not hurt.
“No…” I sob, the dam I’ve carefully constructed all morning finally breaking hearing the concern in my best friend’s voice. Huxlee follows me to the back and guides me to sit on the couch against the wall after setting everything on the table. She rubs her hand up and down my back, soothing nonsense falls from her lips. It only makes me cry harder, and it’s several minutes before I’m able to get it together.
“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. Is it Mason?”
I shake my head and take a deep breath before telling her the truth. “Do you remember the old journals I told you about a while ago?”
“The ones your family collects? Yeah, I remember. That reminds me, you never did bring one in for me to see.”
“About that… I might not have exactly told you the truth.” She stares at me, waiting for me to continue my admission. “Most of what I told you was true.” I rush out, not wanting her mad at me.
“Okay, what part did you lie about, then?”
“I haven’t even told my parents some of this, so I am trusting you to keep it quiet.” She nods in confirmation before I continue. “The firstborn women in my family are a kind of gateway to a prison world. We’re responsible for keeping the journals of the people who are banished there. And for hundreds of years, that’s all we have been, journal keepers. But something is different about me, Huxlee.”
I pause, knowing that the moment the next words are out of my mouth, I can’t take them back, and someone else in my world will know my secret. She reaches over and pats my knee. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You know that, right?”
I nod my head and take a deep breath. “At night, not every night, mind you, sometimes I travel to the prison world.” Huxlee’s eyes grow wide and she reaches to grab her coffee from the table, taking a sip before setting it back down.
“Damn, that coffee isn’t strong enough for this information.” She’s silent for a minute, processing the information. “Wait. So what’s up with the crying?”
A tear glides down my cheek, and I swipe it away with my finger. “Each person who is banished to the prison world is sent there with the clothes on their back and a journal. The man who wrote…” I choke up and it takes me a minute to gather myself again. “The man who wrote the journal I took, I met him on my first trip to the world. I’ve spent time with him, I’ve grown to lo—” I stop myself just before the word leaves my lips. “I’ve grown to really care about him.
“Last night, I was with him. The world is experiencing unrest, and they have been preparing for a war. And right in front of me…” The tears flow down my face freely now as I remember what happened last night. “They shot him right in front of me,” I choke out.
“Oh, sweetie,” Huxlee wraps me in her arms. She holds me until I have cried all the tears. She hands me a tissue and I blow my nose loudly. “Can I ask a question?” At my nod she asks, “Are you sure the prison world is real?”
“My mom told me about our family’s involvement in everything so, pretty sure, yeah. Plus, there have been other things that have confirmed it. Things that I read in the journal after I experienced them in the world. One day, I was scratched in the prison world and that same scratch was on me here.”
“Wait, what?” she asks, mouth agape.
“Yeah, I was scratched on my palm by a rose’s thorns and when I woke up back here, same scratch, same place.”
“So if that’s true, what would happen if you were to die in the prison world during this war? Would you be dead here too?”
I nod in response, “I think so.”
She grips my hand in hers. “Well, I’ve never known you to spin such stories so, I believe you.” That simple truth is enough to lift some of the weight from my shoulders.
Huxlee gives me a hug before we get up and head back out into the store, Huxlee to the front and me to the bathroom to clean up my face.
* * *
A few weeks later, it’s the twenty-third and I’m packing to leave for my parents’ house. My brothers are coming in with their families to spend the week.
Huxlee and I have been busy at the store, so many customers coming in and loving the customized wrapped gifts for their loved ones. I said goodbye to her yesterday until after New Year’s. Her sister is in town to help her with the store while I’m gone.
Just having one other person know the truth has helped me tremendously over the last few weeks. She would listen to my worries, give me a hug when I needed it, and even came and stayed with me a couple of nights, wrapping her arms around me while I fell asleep. The one thing I could not bring myself to do over the last several weeks was to read the journal. I couldn’t bear to read about him, not knowing if he’s alive or not. But it was never far from me every night as I fell asleep.
I stay at my parents’ until after New Year’s every year, helping them take down all the Christmas decorations before coming back to my life until the next year.
Mason hasn’t called since I last came back from the prison world. I really thought we had something, but I am never okay with someone ghosting me. Maybe he has some good excuse. He said he wanted to come see me when I was at my parents’, so I’ll reach out to him when I get there, but I’m doing my best to prepare myself for disappointment.
It’s easy to admit to myself that seeing him when I am so concerned about the beast would probably have resulted in me not being much fun to be around, anyway.
I look around the house one last time before zipping up my suitcase. Anytime I leave to go anywhere, I do my best to make sure I forget nothing. Even though I can always make a stop at a store somewhere if I leave my deodorant at home. I open my bag again and make sure I remembered to pack it this time. Then I zip everything up, grab my suitcase off my bed, and roll it to the door. Before I get bundled up, I send Huxlee a text.
Me
Huxlee
I awkwardly hold my phone with my chin as I pull my coat on, shoving the phone into my purse before grabbing my suitcase, walking out the door, and locking it behind me.
My car is cold, the heater taking a while to kick in and warm it up in the freezing temperatures. I can still see my breath several minutes into the drive. When my car finally heats, I take my gloves off so I can grip the steering wheel easier.
My phone rings about halfway there and I dig it out of my purse, one hand on the steering wheel, the other hitting accept and bringing the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hey, sweetie, I just wanted to make sure you were on your way?” Usually Mom doesn’t call when she knows I’m driving, but I forgot to text her when I left my place. She likes to make sure, especially when the roads are in their winter state, that I am being careful.
“I’m about halfway there,” I reply, then get silent. Through the floor of the car and the pedal, I can feel my car lose traction with the road. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” My car spins on the frozen road, and the phone flies from my hand as I again grip the wheel with both hands. By the time I remember what my dad told me about driving on slippery roads, the car has stopped. Thankfully, there are no other drivers crazy enough to be out here today.
“Callie? Callie! Callie!” I hear from somewhere near my feet. Reaching down, I grab the phone and bring it to my ear again. One, two, three deep breaths I take, trying to calm my frantic heart. “Are you okay?” she yells in my ear.
“I’m okay, the car is okay, everyone is okay.” Yet, my heart is still racing in my chest. “I’ll see you in a little while, Mom. Love you.”
“Drive carefully. Love you too, Callie.”
I put the phone back in my purse and slowly press the gas pedal again, both hands firmly on the steering wheel this time.
* * *
I arrive in one piece and see my brothers have already gotten here. They both live further and probably drove in during the daylight. Never again will I be making this trip at night.
“You made it!” My dad wraps me in a bear hug, holding on a little longer than necessary. I snuggle into his embrace, taking a deep breath and enjoy being on solid ground once again. “What can I help with?”
He grabs my suitcase from the trunk, and we head into the house. “Mom said you tried to get out of Christmas this year,” Jake claims as soon as I walk in the door.
“I said no such thing, you brat!” She swats his arm before wrapping me in her arms. She smells like Christmas cookies and pumpkin roll.
“You guys better have left me some pumpkin roll. I did almost die getting here,” I joke. Jake hugs me next, patting my back before passing me off to the next family member.
All the kids are noticeably absent. “Where are the munchkins?”
“Mom got them all a game to play. They’ve been arguing over it ever since,” Andy responds. While Jake is tall, freakishly muscular, and has dark hair and eyes, Andy is the complete opposite. He is of average height, lean muscles, with blond hair and blue eyes.
Dad puts my suitcase in my room, and I set my purse on the bed. “What’s for dinner?” I ask. My stomach finally over the anxiety of the trip here.
“Your mom made chili and Stacy made cornbread to go with it.” Stacy and Jake are the active couple in this family. They go hiking and camping with their kids often, preferring the outdoors to being stuck inside a house.
In the other room, I hear the kids yelling and laughing. “Keep it down in there,” I hear Jen yell from the other room. With two older brothers, Jen was my best friend and partner in crime in high school. We would spend our days hanging out and making fun of them. When she and Andy started dating and finally got engaged, I was so excited that we would officially be sisters.
“Jennifer, get your sexy ass in here and give me a hug!” I yell down the hall. When I see her come out of the kitchen, large, obviously pregnant belly out front, I gasp. “You didn’t tell us he knocked you up again.” I carefully wrap her, belly and all, in the biggest bear hug I can.
“I wanted it to be a surprise?” She shrugs. “If only I could keep Andy off of me. I don’t think he’s figured out where babies come from yet.”
Gross. I do not want to hear about my brother’s sex life.
“Why are you blaming me? You’re the one that struts out of the closet in sexy lingerie,” he quips.
I fake gag and leave them in the hallway.
In the kitchen, I sit down next to Stacy, who is spooning chili into small bowls with cornbread for the kids. “Hey, Callie, would you mind grabbing some of these and following me in there? Your dad set up the folding table for the gremlins.” She grabs half of the bowls and I grab the rest, both of us careful not to spill chili on the carpet. “Can you believe Jen didn’t tell us she was pregnant again? Besties chat betrayal.” She smiles as she says this, then sets her bowls down on the table.
“What a traitor.” Once I’ve set my own bowls down, I link my arm with hers in camaraderie.
With the kiddos fed, we head into the dining room for some adult time. I shoot off a quick text to Mason to let him know I’m back in town. Then, I send off another text to Huxlee, letting her know I made it in one piece. I leave out the piece about Jen, knowing she’ll want to announce it herself.
“Did Mom say we’re going to meet your new boyfriend?” Jen asks.
“I haven’t heard from him in a while, so I’m not sure if he’s coming or not,” I whisper, not wanting the entire table to hear. Or my brothers to be assholes.
The kids are allowed to stay up later than their normal bedtimes, but eventually, we all settle into our assigned rooms for the night. Each of the couples stay in the room my brothers grew up in, and the kids sleep in a tent in the middle of the media room.
* * *
The next morning, I realize that Mason never texted me back. It was so insane here with everyone under one roof, I didn’t have time to look at my phone. I text him again.
Me
My back pops when I stretch my arms above my head and get out of bed. As soon as I exit the relative quiet of my room, I smile. The boys are waiting in the hallway for their turn in the bathroom. A few of them look like they’re doing the potty dance.
“Girls, you may want to let the boys have their turn soon or grandma is gonna make you clean up the puddles,” I say through the door. Their responding giggles make the boys groan. “Why don’t you guys go use the other bathroom?” I suggest, shooing them toward the other hallway.
“Why do girls have to take so long to get ready, Auntie Cals?” Tuck asks. The oldest of the brood at twelve years old, he looks exactly like Jake did at his age. Stacy was unknowingly pregnant with Tuck at their wedding. She laughed when she found out it wasn’t bad shrimp after all.
“I don’t know, little Tuck. When will you guys learn to beat them to the bathroom?”
“Hey! I’m not little anymore. I’m almost as tall as you.” He scratches the top of his head before asking, “Why should we be punished for them needing so much time?”
“It seems you have a decision to make then, kiddo,” I say over my shoulder as I make my way to the kitchen for some coffee. “Who made the coffee this morning?” There are some members of the family who should never be allowed to touch the coffeemaker. Why is it that the worst cooks are usually the ones adamant they be allowed to cook? Not that coffee is cooking, but how the fuck do you burn coffee?
I bring the cup to my nose and inhale the wonderful aroma. Jen brewed this batch. She always brings in the fancy stuff when they come. We both spent a summer working at the local coffee shop and both learned a thing or two about making a damn good cup of coffee.
“I knew I’d find you in here with the coffee,” Mom says as she moves to pour herself a cup. She brings the cup to her nose and inhales the coffee before taking a sip. “Thank God Stacy didn’t make it in here first.”
“I heard that!” Stacy yells from the doorway, and we all burst out laughing. “I definitely did not inherit my mom’s cooking abilities. Thankfully, Jake learned something from growing up in this house.”
“Jake? My Jake?” Mom asks. “You’d never know that from how much he complained about helping me growing up.”
“I think he just did that so he looked cool in front of his friends,” I say. Looking down at my phone, I see that I have no missed calls or texts from Mason.
I see a couple of new texts over in the Besties chat and I open it up, seeing Stacy and Jen tattled on me and my near-miss on the way here.
Huxlee
Jen
Me
Stacy
Me
Jen
Huxlee
Jen
Huxlee
I sigh as I set my phone down on the table and my mom reaches over and pats my hand. “Maybe he’s busy with his family, sweetie.”
“Maybe, but he said he wanted to see me and I haven’t heard from him in weeks. I feel like a crazy teenager with a crush on a cute boy.”
“I know that feeling,” Jen says, waddling into the kitchen, with a hand on her back. “I see you guys found the coffee.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful you’re an early riser.” I wink at Stacy. We sit around the table drinking our coffee. “Are all the guys still sleeping?” I ask. So far, the only people of the male persuasion I have seen awake are the kids, and they never seem to sleep in when they’re all under the same roof.
Right on cue, the kids come tearing through the kitchen, chasing each other in some game or other. “Kids, no running in the house,” Jen tells them.
“Yes, Auntie Jen,” Tucker says. He’s the last one out of the room and I can hear him yelling at the other kids. Ever the one in charge of the group, he’s twelve going on thirty.
We spend the day catching up and enjoying each other. Dad pulls out some of the board and card games from the closet. We are a competitive bunch and we enjoy this time of year, and spend the rest of the year gloating over who won what.
We decide to start out brutal this year with some Monopoly. The kids know better than to come in here when the “grown-ups” are mid-game. Someone is liable to get in trouble, or get blamed for someone losing if they’re interrupted mid-turn.
Mom helps the kiddos make sugar cookies and they spend the afternoon decorating them. The rest of us vote on who did it best and then help them consume all the sugar.
We each open one gift on Christmas Eve—Christmas pajamas. The youngest of the brood also gets to open up a new Christmas story for us to read before everyone heads off to bed. I curl up in my bed with the journal, tucking it under the mattress before falling asleep.