I shot up in bed, my heart racing, drenched in sweat, the dream that was the cause for my distress
quickly fading from my mind. I let it, having hung onto it many times before only to discover the same thing. The nightmares of Jon and David disappearing into a black abyss had only intensified, each one offering less clarity.
It had been several weeks since the day I’d first learned of Jon’s abilities and spent the night training with him. After that, despite everything, things had gone relatively back to normal, at least on the surface. We carried on as always, minimal affection masking his deep feelings, mine still mired in confusion. I often went for days, content in our old routine, happy with the newness of our regular training sessions. Then a rush of repressed lonesomeness for David would sweep over me and I’d retreat to my place, withdrawing into solitude to deal with the overwhelming emotions his prolonged absence left me with.
I looked around, confirming that I was in my own bedroom and not at Jon’s place. What had brought me here came quickly to mind with little effort of recollection. After my work out last night, Ash told me to stop by David’s. There had been a delivery for me.
I’d managed to avoid his place since my first visit, and returning was just as difficult as I’d feared. It was untouched. While Jon had done as promised and cleaned away all signs of the broken glass and flowers, my shoes and David’s still sat by the door, the ash remnants of our fire sat coldly in the fireplace.
A carton was waiting on the kitchen counter. A small pang of disappointment pulled at me. I’d heard nothing from David either directly or otherwise since he’d left, and a part of me had hoped I might find him standing there instead.
I unwrapped the package to find the Dante book he’d gotten me through the charity auction. Jon must have sent it here when he’d gone back inside to arrange the shipping. With all the security features set up around the building, it was probably safer at David’s than in any bank vault.
I gently removed it from its protective casing, knowing I’d quickly return it, and ran my hand along the cover, my thumb just along the edges of the pages, the scent of its history filling the air. I eased open the front of the leather binding and was met with an extraordinary sight. In a tiny form of my grandfather’s writing, in the top left corner was written, S. King then next to it, in a miniature version of David’s writing, D. Gurion. Tucked inside the cover was a thick piece of card stock, similar to the paper David had always used to write to me, filled with my grandfather’s signature script.
David – Never forget your calling. Beauty and truth, let these be the things that awaken your soul to act. Trust your instincts, honor your purpose, and move forward without apology or regret. For he who sees a need and waits to be asked for help is as unkind as if he had refused it. Wait for no one, refuse only the unjust. – Sam
That David had passed on to me the book gifted to him by my grandfather was wonderful. But to see that of all Dante’s wise quotes, the two we’d exchanged our first moments together on the beach were the very same as charged to him for his life’s work, was remarkable. Every time I’d convinced myself the feelings I had for him had manifested from infatuation and selective memory, something would thrust me back into the notion that we were inexplicably and inescapably linked.
A shiver rolled through me at the recollection of how I’d felt holding that book in my hands, reading those words, and I pulled the covers of the bed more snuggly around me. I tried to think of something, anything that would take my mind off David. School was tapering down toward graduation, and with my acceptance into Columbia already secured, there was even less than usual to occupy me. Music always made me think of David. Reading often did. The center was still off limits, and there were only so many meals and books I could send the kids’ way. I knew Jon was the only remedy, but allowing myself that resolution only turned my thoughts into further troubles.
Despite my best efforts to come to a conclusion of how I felt for him independently of David, I couldn’t. So many times while training, I’d look over with a burst of emotion, and I swear he could read my thoughts; that he knew in that moment I couldn’t imagine spending another day without him kissing me again. But he never acted on it. Then the next time a wave of missing David hit me, I’d be so deeply relieved that Jon hadn’t made a move, and embarrassed by the inability to control my feelings, I would retreat from his presence for a while.
I couldn’t be near him during these times. Just seeing his face while my heart ached for David made me feel like a traitor. Everything Avery had said to me about releasing Jon, Ona’s words of my grandfather’s wishes for me to be with David, would haunt me, forcing me to seriously consider the idea of ending it. But I couldn’t. I could never convince myself that what I felt for Jon was any less than what I felt for David. Different, yes. But less?
Eventually, I would come out of it. My feelings would balance and, missing Jon incredibly, I would reappear at his door. Though we never spoke of the reason for my absences, I suspected he knew all too well. I was sometimes afraid he wouldn’t let me back in, that I’d return and both his door and his heart would remain closed.
I rallied and got myself out of bed. It was early Saturday morning. We had a slew of social engagements lined up for the weekend, and I didn’t want us to have to navigate them in a state of awkwardness as had sometimes been happening. Our semi-regular schedule and a constant rotation of public appearances as a couple were what had been keeping our parents at bay. Mollifying them into giving the space we needed to figure us out. Jon thought it was best not to go to battle with them over our relationship when we had yet to figure it out ourselves, and even though I hated pretending everything was perfect, I agreed with him.
I quickly showered, threw on a pair of jeans and a soft peach chiffon and lace top. I noticed both were kind of hanging on me, giving me a frumpy look, so I belted them. Slipping on some ballet flats, I grabbed a chunky cream-colored cardigan off its hanger and threw it on as well. I reached Jon’s place just as he was heading out the door to the gym. Quieted by doubt, I stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching as he finished locking up.
“Morning.” I chewed on my bottom lip, shifting on the balls of my feet. Was I out of chances? After all, I’d disappeared on him last night without word or warning. Again.
His shoulders stilled. My chest tightened. I should’ve said I was sorry. I should’ve told him I loved him. That he meant the world to me. That I couldn’t imagine my life without him. That I disappeared to protect him, and his heart, from the torment of my own.
He turned my direction, with serious eyes. “You look tired.”
“Thanks.” I gave a sarcastic laugh, hugging my arms around me. I guess I really did look how I felt. Maybe I should’ve worn more makeup than just lip gloss.
He descended the stairs, taking my cheek in his hand. I breathed a sigh of relief at his touch. He hadn’t given up on me yet.
“You don’t look bad.” He smiled. “That’s not possible.” His eyes studied me further. “You do look tired though. Do you want to head upstairs? Maybe get a little more sleep?”
“No.” I was brisk, and he took a step back, dropping his hand. I didn’t mean to be edgy. I just didn’t want to risk any more dreams. I already felt too fragile for my liking, and apparently it was evident on my face as well. “Sorry, I guess I am tired. Maybe I’ll take a nap. But later, okay?” I looked away from him but reached out apologetically and pulled him back toward me.
“Did Avery get a hold of you?” I could still feel his eyes on me.
“No.” I pulled my cell out to see several missed calls.
“She mentioned something about going shopping for a dress for tonight. Wanted you to go with her. You should give her a call.” He’d been concerned about the state of our friendship lately. He could tell it was strained, distant, and as neither of us wanted to tell him it was due to a difference of opinion over him, he spent a lot of time trying to blindly fix the problem.
“Thanks. I’ll do that.” I knew I probably wouldn’t.
He knew it too. “Bria. Call her.”
Something in his look got to me, and I changed my mind. I would call her. His hopefulness and unfailing determination were hard to overcome. Besides, we hadn’t fought, and saw each other regularly at the gym. We just never really talked. We both hated being fake with one another and with such important topics off the table, David and Jon for me, Ash for her, it was hard to get around it. The silence felt more genuine than meaningless chatter. Maybe today we’d have a breakthrough and move past it all somehow.
“I will. Cross my heart.” I made the sign over my chest.
His eyes still roamed over me, troubled. “Please do. You haven’t been yourself since . . . everything.” Jon and I mostly spoke around the topic of David, never addressing his presence in our joint lives straight on.
“I’m sorry.” I looked down, sure he could see how deep my internal struggle had become.
“Don’t be sorry.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m just worried.”
The small gesture eased my fears. I looked up at him with a watery smile. “I’m okay.”
He ran his hand down my arm and stopped mid-motion, squeezing at it through the sweater. “Have you been eating?” He tried to end the question casually, but I could hear the alarm in his voice.
I honestly couldn’t remember my last meal and shook my head no.
“You have to consume more calories with the work we’ve been doing. I told you that.”
I looked away sheepishly.
He pulled me in, trying to hide his worry with a hug. “Eat. Okay?”
“Okay.” I rested my head on him. “I can cook something when you get home.”
He held me tighter. “It’s been a long time since you’ve cooked for me.”
“You’ve missed it?”
He pulled back with a wistful whisper. “More than you know.” His eyes misted. That wasn’t all he missed. “You should nap though.” He broke the moment, kissing my cheek goodbye and heading down the sidewalk, then turned back. “Call Av—”
We exchanged a smile as I held up my phone, already dialing.
Avery and I met at our spot, devoured breakfast, and headed to a few shops. She found something quickly then turned on me, always eager to dress a different body shape than her own. Why, I wasn’t sure, because her figure was amazing, athletic and curvy. She walked into my dressing room holding several dresses and dropped them to the ground at the sight of me.
“Bria. You’re so thin.” Her eyes widened with the shock of seeing me unclothed in all my skinny undergarment-only glory.
“I know.” I shrunk at the grimace on her face as she eyed my rib cage, protruding like tiny stair steps from my torso. “I’m going to start eating more, I swear. I talked to Jon this morning.”
“I hadn’t realized.” Her wide eyes saddened, apologetic, as if she could somehow be responsible for the change in my physical state. “You’re always in all those layers.”
“I’ve been cold lately.” I shrugged. “I’ve missed a few meals the past couple days, but I swear I’ve been eating otherwise. Just not enough I guess for all the training we’ve been doing.”
She swallowed. “No, not enough.”
I turned away from her and the mirror, now feeling uncomfortably bare due to her reaction. I could see her reflection as she reached down to pick up the dresses off the floor, her hands shaking with concern. “I’m just going to find these in a smaller size. I’ll be right back.”
Once she left, I turned back toward the mirror, trying to look at myself as she just had. The general pallor of my skin was healthy but there was no denying I’d dropped weight at an alarming rate. Along with my ribcage, my muscles bulged, drastically defined beneath my skin. Each section of my abs, my thighs, even my arms, skeletal—an anatomy fanatic’s dream. How had I missed it? I knew I’d pushed myself, skipped a few meals. But this?
Avery had somewhat recovered by the time she returned with her selection of dresses. We decided on a warm pink cocktail dress that flowed out from my waist into delicate pleats all the way down to my ankles, subtle touches of sparkle along the way. My skin glowed against it, and, as I’m sure she estimated when picking it out, hid the thinness of my frame beneath the fabric. She also delicately suggested a wrap to drape over my arms and I agreed, the need for the additional cover not lost on me.
I didn’t protest when after leaving the store, she asked to stop for coffee and immediately ordered the biggest muffin on the menu for me. Despite my large breakfast, I ate it quickly and willingly along with another cup of coffee, smack-full of cream and sugar. She relaxed a little more as she watched me eat again and made some crack about how it was totally unfair that I managed to be the only girl she knew who didn’t try to eat her way through her feelings. I laughed with her, promising I’d give it a try.
As she dropped me back at Jon’s, she casually suggested a visit to Dr. Gad. Perhaps this was a reaction to not having my usual shots. Maybe I should touch base with him? Unlike at the coffee shop, though, I quickly shut her down, irritated by her persistence on the topic. The buzzing in my ears that had been on and off for weeks had returned, as well as the accompanying migraine. I just wanted to lie down. She reluctantly yielded and ended the conversation, saying she’d see me tonight.
We were attending the annual alumni and graduate fundraiser for the school. I was going with Jon, and I managed to get out of her that Ash would be her date. This admission thrilled me, imagining them together, Avery finally opening up. Even with that though, I still wasn’t looking forward to the event. Just thinking about having to make nice with all those people left me feeling utterly exhausted. My temples throbbed as I went upstairs to Jon’s room and crawled onto his bed, covering myself with the edge of the comforter.
I restlessly napped until he arrived and quickly showered, then joined me on the bed, wrapping me more tightly with the blanket and his arms. He always held me closest when concerned, and I knew immediately Avery had called him. I drifted back to sleep, comforted by the warmth of the blanket, Jon’s breath against my neck.
When we woke, he ordered Thai food to be delivered. Trying to revive me with the chicken and veggies, fatten me up with noodles and peanut sauce. Then even though it was early in the day, we slipped into our new nighttime routine largely based around the rarely spoken topic of David. Jon had always done so but we now watched the evening news together. Well, he did. I watched parts of it anyway. I would read through most of it, the politics especially, Jon sitting at one end of the couch, my head on a pillow at the other end, my legs stretched comfortably across his lap.
When international news came on, specifically talks of skirmishes at volatile borders or hostage situations, I’d lay the book across my chest and watch intently, looking over to Jon with worried eyebrows raised, my question implied. Was David there, involved in the resolution? More often than not, he would shake his head no but sometimes, sometimes, he would give me the slightest of nods, and I’d watch mesmerized at the effect of David’s work on the world.
This afternoon, the news was a little repetitive from what we’d seen the night before, but Jon still watched attentively as I read. A pressing alert flashed across the screen. There had been a terrorist group take-down in the Middle East. Jon sat forward in his seat—which he never did—and I looked from the news to him and back again in anticipation. The leader of the group was now confirmed dead, many others in top positions apprehended, all hostages had been freed, unharmed.
I looked to Jon again. He nodded. It had been David.
We watched for a while and listened to the commentators’ assessments before he muted the television, staring blankly at the screen. I waited for more information, but he said nothing, running his hands together, kneading on his knuckles.
“Is everything okay?” I asked. His response was a little concerning, considering he usually expected the news of David’s jobs.
“It’s fine. It’s just—” He smiled lightly at me and then looked back to the television screen. “He did this so fast. Way ahead of schedule. I know what he’s capable of, but even I’m kind of blown away. He just keeps getting better.”
I continued to watch him, trying to gauge his reaction, as he absentmindedly ran his hands along my blanket-covered shins. “That’s good, right?”
He didn’t respond at first, then blinking and shaking his head, he turned toward me with another half-smile. “It’s great.”
“Oh.” It hit me. “You’re thinking about being out there with him.”
“I am.” He looked away. “Lately, I feel like I should be.”
I sat up, crossing my legs in front of me as I scooted closer, fiddling with the button on the cuff of his shirt. “I can’t say I feel the same way.” He draped his arm over my knee, giving it a placating pat. I tilted my head around, interrupting his television focused field of vision. “I mean, both of you, being in such dangerous situations, all the time.”
As if on cue, a giant flash from an explosion came across the screen, the news replaying the horrors and heroics of the story. We kept our eyes glued to the silent images until a particularly devastating number of men and women lost in another part of battle was listed like a sports statistic, and I grimaced back in horror. It was meant to be a comparison of how few were lost during this mission, but it was still unsettling.
Jon felt my tremble. “We’ll be alright, Bria. We have it better than most. It’s the others out there I feel for, how many have lost their limbs, their lives.”
“That could be you.” I stroked his hand. “Or David.”
He looked at me then, finally locking his blue gaze onto mine. “It won’t be.”
I swallowed. How I wanted to believe him.
Squeezing my hand, he stood from the couch. “We’ll make our visit at the fundraiser a brief one. You’ll need to be at home tonight.”
“Why?” I was puzzled by the sudden change in our plans.
He’d been headed out of the living room and paused, his shoulders rising and falling with a heaviness. “He’s been waiting in some obscure place, avoiding the fallout. Now that the news is public, he’ll be coming home. Coming to you.”
I shifted on the couch, fidgeting with my blanket uncomfortably, partly out of a rush of anticipation but mostly due to the clear fact that Jon was asking me to stay home, so David didn’t have to seek me out here. “You don’t know that for sure.”
“Of course I do.” He moved to go. “It’s the first thing I’d do, too.”