The walls are a plain white, with a blue trim at the top. Every thing is spotless, even the floors are absolutely clean, so clean my sneakers squeak as I walk down the hallway holding Jadyn’s hand. He thinks Remliel is in a hospital because she’s sick; however he doesn't know just how sick she is, nor what kind of hospital. The only thing he knows is what mom told him, “Today you and Cassiel are going to go visit Remliel at the hospital.” Jadyn doesn’t know that his sister, my twin, is actually in a loony bin because one day angels told her to light a rose bush on fire so she could read their message in the flames. Jadyn doesn’t know Remliel might never get better. Jadyn doesn’t know a lot of thing, and both mom and I want to keep it that way.
We finally arrive at Remliel’s room, and just like the hallway the walls are white with the blue trim. She’s sitting in a chair looking out the window. “Remmie!” yells Jadyn as he runs over to hug her. “Hey you,” whispers Remliel as Jadyn climbs into her lap. “Jadyn, I need you to help me figure something out,” she says, “I’ve been staring at the sky for hours trying to decide, can you help me?” Jadyn shakes his head vigorously. “Ok, what color do you think the sky is today?” Jadyn laughs, “Its blue silly!”
“Yes I know it’s blue, but if it could be any other color, what color do you think that it would be?” Jadyn looks down at his fingers to think. What the hell does she think she’s doing? Is she trying to land him a place in here too? I start to walk over to the window when Jadyn comes up with his answer, “today the sky is green.” He says. “Yeah I think it is too.” Says Remliel, smiling. Green! What does he mean the sky is green?! “Um Remliel do you think I could talk to you in private for a minute?” Remiel looks down at Jadyn and carefully lifts him off of her lap and places him on the floor. “Go look at a few of those magazines for a while okay Jadyn?” I ask as I give him a light nudge in the direction of the table with the magazines on it. I squat down so I’m about eyelevel with Remliel. “Why did you ask him that?” she gives me this confused look, like I was speaking a completely different language. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I pause and take a breath, calming myself, “the sky is blue, okay Remliel? The sky is not green, it’s not pink, it’s just blue.”
“That’s not what Jadyn thinks.”
“Well he had the right answer the first time but you just had to go on and make him think like a crazy person. You know what mom would say.”
She scowls at me. “No, as a matter of fact I do not know what mom would say, and neither do you. Only mom would know what mom would say.”
“That’s not what I meant.” After that we spend about twenty seconds just staring at each other. She speaks first, “There was no right answer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said that when Jadyn said the sky was blue that he had the right answer, but you were wrong. There was no right answer.” Then she’s done, she looks out the window again and doesn’t say anything else, and she’s done. She stares out the window while I just stare at her face, my face. The only way you could ever tell the difference between us is that her left eye is a crystal clear blue, the same as my eyes, but her right eye is brown. Heterochromia, I suppose would be the proper term to explain why her eyes are the way they are. Other than her eyes, she’s an exact replica of me, maybe the other way around. I finally stop staring at her and turn around to look at Jadyn, flipping through an “In Touch” magazine, probably not understanding a word in it, but just looking at all the famous people. I turn back to Remliel, “Alright, see you next week.” I get up and walk over to Jadyn, “it’s time to go home.” He doesn’t argue just quietly stands up and slips his hand in mine. We start moving towards the door. We’ve almost left the room when I turn around and take one more look at Remliel, “Get better soon.” I whisper, because that’s all I can manage to get out. I start shutting the door when I hear her say, “I don’t need to.”
That was last Thursday, and today is Wednesday. That visit has been replaying in my mind ever since. Every word spoken, every movement made, every thought I had, has been playing over and over again in my head for about four days now kind of like a movie clip. But, I won’t see Remliel again until Saturday; the day mom has the day off. She had decided that all of us, her, me, and Jadyn, should go see Remliel, together. I’ve been thinking about Saturday all day through English, Math, History, every class I had today my mind had been doing nothing but thinking of how that day will go. I still haven’t come up with anything. The rest of my day, however, will be Remliel free. It will just be me and Caleb, Caleb and me. I pull into his driveway, his car’s there; his father’s is not. I walk right up the steps and let myself in, he’s expecting me, and to be honest, I spend more time at his house than his own dad does. I glacially make my way down the hall towards his room, looking at the walls, the ceiling, and the absence of family photos that most homes have hanging on the wall. I’ve seen this hallway and its contents more than a dozen times, but each time is different. I finally get to his room and creak open the door, “Caleb?” I whisper. I open the door a little more; just enough so I can get through, then quietly shut it. The room smells. It smells dirty; it smells like stupidity, it smells like a million secrets, but most of all it smell like weed. I walk over to his bed, and watch his chest rise and fall, rise and fall. I pull back the sheets and climb in so that my back is against his chest. This wakes him up. “Hey Cass.” he croaks yep definitely been smoking weed. “You promised.” I say sadly. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer “What are you talking about?”
“You promised me you wouldn’t smoke anymore, you promised me.” I hear him sigh after my words sink in. “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just… I can’t,” he sighs again, “it’s harder than you think it is.”
“Are you at least trying?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s all I’ll ask for.” The conversation stops there, and we just focus on being with each other. Then he puts his mouth near my ear, “I love you.” He breathes.
“I love you too.” I say.
“Forever?”
“Forever.” I turn my head and kiss him, and he kisses back. Then I turn around so I’m facing him and rest my hand on his arm. I let my hand feather up and down his bicep, while my eyes explore his face. I stare at his soft lips, his slightly crooked but still cute nose, and then I run my fingers through his ashy blonde hair. Then I lock my eyes on his, and just sink deeper and deeper into the emerald abyss. He breaks the silence with a low laugh. “What’s so funny?” I ask. He smiles at me and traces the edge of my ear with his finger, “you’re just so cute when you’re thinking.” I’m about to say something when he silences me with a kiss. He glides his lips over my cheek to my eye, to the other eye, my temple, to my ear. I end up forgetting what I was going to say. “Hey Cass.” Whispers Caleb. “Yeah?” I answer.
“Your name… Cassiel, what does it mean?” I smile and prop myself up on my elbow. “Cassiel is the angel of temperance.” I say. Caleb begins biting his lip, he’s thinking. After a short pause he finally asks, “What about your sister, Remliel, what does her name mean.” I groan and flop onto my back. “What? Did I do something wrong.” He asks. “No,” I sigh, “it’s just; I was hoping to keep her out of my mind for a while. My last visit with her, it was odd.” I turn my head to look at him, “Remliel is the angle of awakening, and Jadyn means God has heard.” He cocks his head and smiles, I smile back, “just figured you sere going in that general direction.”
“I was.” He laughs. He begins tracing the swirling pattern on my shirt with his finger. “So, is your mom really religious?”
“No, she just believes that children are god’s gift to the world. She said that the minute me and,” I pause, not wanting to say the name I’ve been trying to avoid.
“Remliel.” He says for me. “Yeah,” is say, “Anyway she said she just knew that we were both angles sent to her wearing the form of mortals.” After that I just look at the ceiling, exploring every crack and bump. Then I realize that Caleb is starring at me. “What?” I ask. He smiles, “Nothing, just thinking of how right your mom is, you know, about how you and your sister were and still are angels.” He keeps looking at me. “There’s something else you want to ask isn’t there?” I ask.
He laughs and nods, “I was thinking about your brother’s name, too, about how it means god has heard. Why didn’t she name him after an angel?”
“Well my mom and,” I take in a deep breath, preparing myself for “the word”, “my dad,” I let out the breath, “had been trying to have another baby for a while, but when my mom began to pray every night, she finally got pregnant. So, I guess the way she saw it, god had heard.” I turn my head to look at him and he’s still smiling. “Are you going to be asking me anymore questions or can I finally relax?” I ask.
“Don’t worry I won’t ask any more questions,” he wraps his arms around me and whispers, “my angel.”
We finally arrive at Remliel’s room, and just like the hallway the walls are white with the blue trim. She’s sitting in a chair looking out the window. “Remmie!” yells Jadyn as he runs over to hug her. “Hey you,” whispers Remliel as Jadyn climbs into her lap. “Jadyn, I need you to help me figure something out,” she says, “I’ve been staring at the sky for hours trying to decide, can you help me?” Jadyn shakes his head vigorously. “Ok, what color do you think the sky is today?” Jadyn laughs, “Its blue silly!”
“Yes I know it’s blue, but if it could be any other color, what color do you think that it would be?” Jadyn looks down at his fingers to think. What the hell does she think she’s doing? Is she trying to land him a place in here too? I start to walk over to the window when Jadyn comes up with his answer, “today the sky is green.” He says. “Yeah I think it is too.” Says Remliel, smiling. Green! What does he mean the sky is green?! “Um Remliel do you think I could talk to you in private for a minute?” Remiel looks down at Jadyn and carefully lifts him off of her lap and places him on the floor. “Go look at a few of those magazines for a while okay Jadyn?” I ask as I give him a light nudge in the direction of the table with the magazines on it. I squat down so I’m about eyelevel with Remliel. “Why did you ask him that?” she gives me this confused look, like I was speaking a completely different language. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I pause and take a breath, calming myself, “the sky is blue, okay Remliel? The sky is not green, it’s not pink, it’s just blue.”
“That’s not what Jadyn thinks.”
“Well he had the right answer the first time but you just had to go on and make him think like a crazy person. You know what mom would say.”
She scowls at me. “No, as a matter of fact I do not know what mom would say, and neither do you. Only mom would know what mom would say.”
“That’s not what I meant.” After that we spend about twenty seconds just staring at each other. She speaks first, “There was no right answer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said that when Jadyn said the sky was blue that he had the right answer, but you were wrong. There was no right answer.” Then she’s done, she looks out the window again and doesn’t say anything else, and she’s done. She stares out the window while I just stare at her face, my face. The only way you could ever tell the difference between us is that her left eye is a crystal clear blue, the same as my eyes, but her right eye is brown. Heterochromia, I suppose would be the proper term to explain why her eyes are the way they are. Other than her eyes, she’s an exact replica of me, maybe the other way around. I finally stop staring at her and turn around to look at Jadyn, flipping through an “In Touch” magazine, probably not understanding a word in it, but just looking at all the famous people. I turn back to Remliel, “Alright, see you next week.” I get up and walk over to Jadyn, “it’s time to go home.” He doesn’t argue just quietly stands up and slips his hand in mine. We start moving towards the door. We’ve almost left the room when I turn around and take one more look at Remliel, “Get better soon.” I whisper, because that’s all I can manage to get out. I start shutting the door when I hear her say, “I don’t need to.”
That was last Thursday, and today is Wednesday. That visit has been replaying in my mind ever since. Every word spoken, every movement made, every thought I had, has been playing over and over again in my head for about four days now kind of like a movie clip. But, I won’t see Remliel again until Saturday; the day mom has the day off. She had decided that all of us, her, me, and Jadyn, should go see Remliel, together. I’ve been thinking about Saturday all day through English, Math, History, every class I had today my mind had been doing nothing but thinking of how that day will go. I still haven’t come up with anything. The rest of my day, however, will be Remliel free. It will just be me and Caleb, Caleb and me. I pull into his driveway, his car’s there; his father’s is not. I walk right up the steps and let myself in, he’s expecting me, and to be honest, I spend more time at his house than his own dad does. I glacially make my way down the hall towards his room, looking at the walls, the ceiling, and the absence of family photos that most homes have hanging on the wall. I’ve seen this hallway and its contents more than a dozen times, but each time is different. I finally get to his room and creak open the door, “Caleb?” I whisper. I open the door a little more; just enough so I can get through, then quietly shut it. The room smells. It smells dirty; it smells like stupidity, it smells like a million secrets, but most of all it smell like weed. I walk over to his bed, and watch his chest rise and fall, rise and fall. I pull back the sheets and climb in so that my back is against his chest. This wakes him up. “Hey Cass.” he croaks yep definitely been smoking weed. “You promised.” I say sadly. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer “What are you talking about?”
“You promised me you wouldn’t smoke anymore, you promised me.” I hear him sigh after my words sink in. “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just… I can’t,” he sighs again, “it’s harder than you think it is.”
“Are you at least trying?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s all I’ll ask for.” The conversation stops there, and we just focus on being with each other. Then he puts his mouth near my ear, “I love you.” He breathes.
“I love you too.” I say.
“Forever?”
“Forever.” I turn my head and kiss him, and he kisses back. Then I turn around so I’m facing him and rest my hand on his arm. I let my hand feather up and down his bicep, while my eyes explore his face. I stare at his soft lips, his slightly crooked but still cute nose, and then I run my fingers through his ashy blonde hair. Then I lock my eyes on his, and just sink deeper and deeper into the emerald abyss. He breaks the silence with a low laugh. “What’s so funny?” I ask. He smiles at me and traces the edge of my ear with his finger, “you’re just so cute when you’re thinking.” I’m about to say something when he silences me with a kiss. He glides his lips over my cheek to my eye, to the other eye, my temple, to my ear. I end up forgetting what I was going to say. “Hey Cass.” Whispers Caleb. “Yeah?” I answer.
“Your name… Cassiel, what does it mean?” I smile and prop myself up on my elbow. “Cassiel is the angel of temperance.” I say. Caleb begins biting his lip, he’s thinking. After a short pause he finally asks, “What about your sister, Remliel, what does her name mean.” I groan and flop onto my back. “What? Did I do something wrong.” He asks. “No,” I sigh, “it’s just; I was hoping to keep her out of my mind for a while. My last visit with her, it was odd.” I turn my head to look at him, “Remliel is the angle of awakening, and Jadyn means God has heard.” He cocks his head and smiles, I smile back, “just figured you sere going in that general direction.”
“I was.” He laughs. He begins tracing the swirling pattern on my shirt with his finger. “So, is your mom really religious?”
“No, she just believes that children are god’s gift to the world. She said that the minute me and,” I pause, not wanting to say the name I’ve been trying to avoid.
“Remliel.” He says for me. “Yeah,” is say, “Anyway she said she just knew that we were both angles sent to her wearing the form of mortals.” After that I just look at the ceiling, exploring every crack and bump. Then I realize that Caleb is starring at me. “What?” I ask. He smiles, “Nothing, just thinking of how right your mom is, you know, about how you and your sister were and still are angels.” He keeps looking at me. “There’s something else you want to ask isn’t there?” I ask.
He laughs and nods, “I was thinking about your brother’s name, too, about how it means god has heard. Why didn’t she name him after an angel?”
“Well my mom and,” I take in a deep breath, preparing myself for “the word”, “my dad,” I let out the breath, “had been trying to have another baby for a while, but when my mom began to pray every night, she finally got pregnant. So, I guess the way she saw it, god had heard.” I turn my head to look at him and he’s still smiling. “Are you going to be asking me anymore questions or can I finally relax?” I ask.
“Don’t worry I won’t ask any more questions,” he wraps his arms around me and whispers, “my angel.”
Chapter Two
The drive home felt lonely and quiet, even with the radio blaring. I pull into the driveway, put the car in park, turn off the engine, and sit. Just sit and look at my house. I scan my eyes over the off white paneling, the small metal chimney, the screen door, and the tightly drawn curtains. The one level house looks even smaller sitting behind the giant oak tree in the front yard. For some reason, I don’t know why, the fact that that tree has been there longer than I have been alive is somewhat comforting. I run my eyes over the two rose bushes that are lined up against the base of the house. Then I look at the spot where the third rose bush use to be. I open the door to get out when I notice a dog sitting right in front of me. Just sitting there, starring, at me; almost as if he was waiting for me. We stare at each for about a minute or so when he gets up and walks away. Whatever. I slam the car door shut, and walk up the little pathway to the front door. Mom’s standing at the stove, probably cooking something for dinner. “Hey mom.”
“Hi sweetheart.”
“What are you making?”
“Spaghetti.” I begin walking to my room when she asks me to sit down at the table.
“Am I in trouble?” I ask.
“No, no, I just want to talk.”
“About what?”
“You were just with Caleb weren’t you?” I can see where this is going so I decide to beat her to the punch. “Yes, and mom, there is nothing to worry about. We haven’t done anything, well you know, what you think.” She stares at me, determining whether or not I was lying. She decides I was being truthful. “Alright, I was just making sure, but if you ever want to talk about those types of things well,” she pauses, and takes a deep breath to gather her thoughts, “you can always talk to me alright?” I nod. I get up and start heading back to my room before she can give me anymore of “the talk”. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.” She yells. I give a thumbs up as a sign of my acknowledgment. I know what you’re thinking, but I was actually telling the truth. Caleb and I have done nothing that would be considered “inappropriate”. Knowing my mom worried about me kind of made me feel good made me feel wanted. I open the door to my room then close it shut behind me. Then I lock it, but I don’t know why. Like everything else in my life, my room feels different each time I enter it, but I like that about it. How it’s familiar, but not. How there are still corners I have not searched or a crack in the ceiling I never noticed until now. Yeah, I like that about it. It’s small, but it’s still my room all the same. There’s a desk, a dresser, a bookshelf, a stereo, and a bed. My favorite thing out of everything has got to be my bed frame. It’s an old iron bed frame that I found in a dump that I cleaned and polished, and I absolutely love it. It has a story, one that can’t be told, but a story nonetheless. I put in my favorite CD, press play, and collapse onto my bed, letting the slow hum of “Heart Shaped Box” envelope my mind. I try to focus on the music but I can’t help thinking about the dog. An Australian Shepard I think it was. It had a beautiful coat; a few patches of what looked like blue here and there, some white, and some brown. But it’s eyes; it’s eyes were what really had me. It’s left eye was a beautiful blue and the right eye was brown. Kind of like…” I sit up so fast I get dizzy no, I will not think about her. It helps. Then I hear my mom yell that dinner’s ready.
Dinner was a blur, and there wasn’t much talking. I rushed through my spaghetti, washed my dish, and then went to grab my coat and my shoes. “Where are you going?” asked my mom. “Oh, I just want to go for a walk. You know, get some air.” I say as I slip on my sneakers. “Alright, be home before seven.” She says.
“K.” I say, opening the door. The air was cold, bitter, and I loved it. So, the truth is, I didn’t want to go for a walk just to get some air. My real task, as ridiculous as it is, was to find the dog. I don’t know why but the first time I saw him, I got this feeling, like it had something to tell me. God I’m starting to sound like Remliel and her burning bush. But this is different; I’m not going to set anything on fire. As I walk I look at all the houses lined up on our street. They all look the same; small with faded colored paneling, but when you look closer you can see all the little details that separate one from the other. I stop in front of two houses and look at each one. One has a hint of mint green paneling while the other has faded yellow paneling. One has a fir tree on the lawn while the other has only grass, dead grass. Then I stop thinking about the houses and consider the people in them, how each of them is different. We’re all the same, yet different. Each one special in their own way. God that was corny. I turn away from the houses, and then step back. Sitting, right in front of me, was the dog. He was sitting there just looking at me, with those eyes. I look at his neck, no collar. I squat down so I’m almost at eye level with him. He doesn’t seem sick or vicious. As a matter of fact, he looked completely healthy, other than being a little underweight. I hold out my hand, and he stares at it. Then he gets up, ever so slowly, and starts walking forward. He stretches his neck, so his nose is almost touching my hand, when I hear a screen door slam open.
“Marley you damn dog get your ass in here!” I turn my head towards the yellowish house and there’s a man standing in the doorway. He has a beer stained, white tank top on, wearing only a pair of pin striped boxers for pants, and has a bottle of beer in his left hand. The dog looks at the man then looks at me. I don’t know if dogs can cry, but if they could, this dog would have been sobbing. “MARLEY!” yells the man again. The dog, Marley, turns toward the house and begins walking. When he gets up the steps and is halfway through the doorway, he looks at me again. “Please,” his eyes are saying, “please help.” Then the man kicks him, with drunken force, into the house. Marley doesn’t make a sound. The man walks, more like hobbles, inside and slams the screen door behind him. I stand up, and begin walking home, crying. Crying because Marley couldn’t.
Chapter Three
“Hi sweetheart.”
“What are you making?”
“Spaghetti.” I begin walking to my room when she asks me to sit down at the table.
“Am I in trouble?” I ask.
“No, no, I just want to talk.”
“About what?”
“You were just with Caleb weren’t you?” I can see where this is going so I decide to beat her to the punch. “Yes, and mom, there is nothing to worry about. We haven’t done anything, well you know, what you think.” She stares at me, determining whether or not I was lying. She decides I was being truthful. “Alright, I was just making sure, but if you ever want to talk about those types of things well,” she pauses, and takes a deep breath to gather her thoughts, “you can always talk to me alright?” I nod. I get up and start heading back to my room before she can give me anymore of “the talk”. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.” She yells. I give a thumbs up as a sign of my acknowledgment. I know what you’re thinking, but I was actually telling the truth. Caleb and I have done nothing that would be considered “inappropriate”. Knowing my mom worried about me kind of made me feel good made me feel wanted. I open the door to my room then close it shut behind me. Then I lock it, but I don’t know why. Like everything else in my life, my room feels different each time I enter it, but I like that about it. How it’s familiar, but not. How there are still corners I have not searched or a crack in the ceiling I never noticed until now. Yeah, I like that about it. It’s small, but it’s still my room all the same. There’s a desk, a dresser, a bookshelf, a stereo, and a bed. My favorite thing out of everything has got to be my bed frame. It’s an old iron bed frame that I found in a dump that I cleaned and polished, and I absolutely love it. It has a story, one that can’t be told, but a story nonetheless. I put in my favorite CD, press play, and collapse onto my bed, letting the slow hum of “Heart Shaped Box” envelope my mind. I try to focus on the music but I can’t help thinking about the dog. An Australian Shepard I think it was. It had a beautiful coat; a few patches of what looked like blue here and there, some white, and some brown. But it’s eyes; it’s eyes were what really had me. It’s left eye was a beautiful blue and the right eye was brown. Kind of like…” I sit up so fast I get dizzy no, I will not think about her. It helps. Then I hear my mom yell that dinner’s ready.
Dinner was a blur, and there wasn’t much talking. I rushed through my spaghetti, washed my dish, and then went to grab my coat and my shoes. “Where are you going?” asked my mom. “Oh, I just want to go for a walk. You know, get some air.” I say as I slip on my sneakers. “Alright, be home before seven.” She says.
“K.” I say, opening the door. The air was cold, bitter, and I loved it. So, the truth is, I didn’t want to go for a walk just to get some air. My real task, as ridiculous as it is, was to find the dog. I don’t know why but the first time I saw him, I got this feeling, like it had something to tell me. God I’m starting to sound like Remliel and her burning bush. But this is different; I’m not going to set anything on fire. As I walk I look at all the houses lined up on our street. They all look the same; small with faded colored paneling, but when you look closer you can see all the little details that separate one from the other. I stop in front of two houses and look at each one. One has a hint of mint green paneling while the other has faded yellow paneling. One has a fir tree on the lawn while the other has only grass, dead grass. Then I stop thinking about the houses and consider the people in them, how each of them is different. We’re all the same, yet different. Each one special in their own way. God that was corny. I turn away from the houses, and then step back. Sitting, right in front of me, was the dog. He was sitting there just looking at me, with those eyes. I look at his neck, no collar. I squat down so I’m almost at eye level with him. He doesn’t seem sick or vicious. As a matter of fact, he looked completely healthy, other than being a little underweight. I hold out my hand, and he stares at it. Then he gets up, ever so slowly, and starts walking forward. He stretches his neck, so his nose is almost touching my hand, when I hear a screen door slam open.
“Marley you damn dog get your ass in here!” I turn my head towards the yellowish house and there’s a man standing in the doorway. He has a beer stained, white tank top on, wearing only a pair of pin striped boxers for pants, and has a bottle of beer in his left hand. The dog looks at the man then looks at me. I don’t know if dogs can cry, but if they could, this dog would have been sobbing. “MARLEY!” yells the man again. The dog, Marley, turns toward the house and begins walking. When he gets up the steps and is halfway through the doorway, he looks at me again. “Please,” his eyes are saying, “please help.” Then the man kicks him, with drunken force, into the house. Marley doesn’t make a sound. The man walks, more like hobbles, inside and slams the screen door behind him. I stand up, and begin walking home, crying. Crying because Marley couldn’t.
Chapter Three
I open my eyes and all I see is white. Nothing but emptiness, just white nothing. I turn around and Marley is sitting in front of me. He has the same expression he had earlier, when his “owner” had been yelling at him. “Help me.” Says a voice, a girl’s voice. The voice had come from Marley. Then a single, silver, tear begins to roll down his face. It creeps along to his chin then falls to the ground. A wave of energy explodes from where the tear landed and everything that was white s now shiny, metallic silver. Marley begins to shake then collapses. I drop to my knees, but before I can even blink, Marley is gone. Instead, Remliel is curled up in a ball wearing her hospital gown, and shaking. When I place my hand on her shoulder she disappears into smoke. My eyes fly open and I rocket up into a sitting position. My face and hair are damp from sweat. I look at the clock. Five forty-five, five hours until mom, Jadyn, and I leave to visit Remliel. I fall back and stare at the ceiling. I suddenly realize I’m incredibly thirsty. I throw the sheets off and creep to my door. I crack open the door and poke my head out. No one else is up, and I want to keep it that way. I close the door behind me and tiptoe down the hall to the kitchen. I open the cupboard to find only one glass left. I look down to find the other glasses, along with the majority of our dishes, piled in the sink. I fill my glass with ice-cold water and chug it down. I wash it out, dry it, and then neatly place it back in the cupboard. I look down again at the other dishes in the sink. Well, I don’t plan on going back to sleep so I might as well. I begin my routine out rinsing, pouring in soap, rinsing again, then drying. Spaghetti, macaroni, and cereal coated dishes are soon spotless and dried to perfection. As I’m placing the last bowl on the shelf I look around at the rest of the kitchen. There’s a stain on the stove from when a drop of pancake batter didn’t make it all the way to the pan, the fridge is coated in a thin layer of dust, and there’s a spot on the counter from who knows what. I open the doors to the cupboard under the sink and begin pulling out every cleaning appliance and product we own from Windex and Scrubbing Bubbles to Pledge and Lysol. Every spot and stain visible to the naked eye is soon scrubbed away with a squirt of cleaner and the scrub of a sponge. About a half hour later the kitchen is shining and perfect. As I put away the last can of cleaner I catch a glimpse of the living room; there are books everywhere but the bookcase and the couch cushions are eschew. I begin working on the living room, straightening everything that is the slightest bit crooked. As I put the last book on the shelf I hear footsteps behind me. “After all this do you think you’d be motivated enough to do the bathroom too?” I hear my mom ask. “Maybe, after I take a shower.” I say, turning around to find my mom gliding her hand over the previously stained counter top. She continues towards the sink, skimming one hand over every surface, and opening the cabinet. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this kitchen, this house, so clean.”
“Yeah how long do you think it will last?”
“I don’t know,” she says letting out a small chuckle, “maybe a week, two weeks tops.” We laugh together. Her smile slowly fades as she processes the unspoken reason behind my cleaning frenzy. “I didn’t realize how anxious these visits make you.”
I give her a confused look, pretending like she hasn’t figured it out.
“Ever since you were four, when you’d get nervous you would push around the mop in an attempt to clean. The last time you went on a cleaning spree was five years ago, when…” she leaves it at that. She’s always avoided talking about him as much as she can. She can’t even say his name. I begin moving towards the bathroom, when I stop to ask one final question. “What time is it?”
“Seven fifty two.” She whispers. Only three more hours left.
The trees create a green blur as we speed down the highway to Saint Jewels Clinic for the Mentally Unstable. Though most people just call it Saint Jewels. The glass is cold against my forehead, rocking every so often as the car slows down or speeds up. We take Exit 67 and pull onto Mulberry Boulevard. It’s a horrible name, but I guess that’s why Saint Jewels Mental Clinic was built on it. A horrible place on a horrible street. My mom pulls into a parking spot, not like it was that hard to find one, the lot is completely empty asides from a few employee cars. Why would anyone want to work here? We open the doors to the clinic and begin walking down the all too familiar hallways. Same white wall, same polished floors, same blue trim. We get to Remliel’s room, room 106. As I walk in I notice a suitcase on the bed, the linens striped and folded neatly at the foot of the bed, and Remliel looking out the window wearing a pair of jeans and a navy blue and white striped shirt. I turn to my mom, “What’s going on?” She bows her head and sighs, then lifts her head. “There’s a reason I wanted us all here today.” She says. “Today Remliel is coming home.” Jadyn’s eyes widen and then he lets out a high-pitched squeal, and then runs over to hug Remliel. I grab my mom’s arm and mouth “talk, now.” We walk outside into the hallway and I turn my mom so she’s looking right into my eyes. “Remliel isn’t coming home because she’s better.” It wasn’t a question it was a statement. “No, she is not.” My mom sighs. “We can’t pay the bills in order for her to stay here. I guess a nurse’s pay can only get us so far” She says, raising her head to look me in the eyes. Her eyes are sad, and tired. “If she can’t stay here how is she supposed to get better? I mean is she going to go to school?” I ask. Mom walks over to the opposite wall and rests her hand on it. “I don’t know how she’s suppose to get better, and no, she will not be attending school.” She drops her hand and stares at the wall. “Our neighbor, Mrs.Wilxon, use to be a school teacher. She has volunteered to teach Remliel, for free.” Mrs.Wilxon is a widow. Her husband died about three years ago from a stroke, so I guess teaching a crazy person all day might help her feel less alone. “Well then,” I say, “I guess it’s a good thing I tidied up a bit.”
“Yeah,” she sighs, “I guess it is.”
We walk back into the room. Remliel is sitting in a chair with Jadyn on her lap. Jadyn is holding a stuffed rabbit, the same one that Remliel has had since she was two. “You know what else he told me?” whispers Remiel. “What?” Jadyn asks with wide eyes filled with curiosity. Who is she talking about? Who told her what? “He told me that one day he’ll teach me how to fly.” Remliel says, smiling wildly.
“Really? Can he teach me too? I want to fly.” Squeals Jadyn. “Umm, Remliel, who is going to teach you to fly?” I interrupt before this crazy fest goes on any longer. Jadyn holds up the rabbit “Tally is!” he shouts. My mom clears her throat to prevent two things from happening. One to prevent me from exploding with Jadyn in the room and to end the “flying lesson” conversation. “Let’s load your things into the car now okay Rem?” my mom says, with extraordinary calmness. Remliel nods and lifts Jadyn off her lap. Mom grabs Remliel’s suitcase, I take Jadyn’s hand, and we exit room 106.
Chapter Four
“Yeah how long do you think it will last?”
“I don’t know,” she says letting out a small chuckle, “maybe a week, two weeks tops.” We laugh together. Her smile slowly fades as she processes the unspoken reason behind my cleaning frenzy. “I didn’t realize how anxious these visits make you.”
I give her a confused look, pretending like she hasn’t figured it out.
“Ever since you were four, when you’d get nervous you would push around the mop in an attempt to clean. The last time you went on a cleaning spree was five years ago, when…” she leaves it at that. She’s always avoided talking about him as much as she can. She can’t even say his name. I begin moving towards the bathroom, when I stop to ask one final question. “What time is it?”
“Seven fifty two.” She whispers. Only three more hours left.
The trees create a green blur as we speed down the highway to Saint Jewels Clinic for the Mentally Unstable. Though most people just call it Saint Jewels. The glass is cold against my forehead, rocking every so often as the car slows down or speeds up. We take Exit 67 and pull onto Mulberry Boulevard. It’s a horrible name, but I guess that’s why Saint Jewels Mental Clinic was built on it. A horrible place on a horrible street. My mom pulls into a parking spot, not like it was that hard to find one, the lot is completely empty asides from a few employee cars. Why would anyone want to work here? We open the doors to the clinic and begin walking down the all too familiar hallways. Same white wall, same polished floors, same blue trim. We get to Remliel’s room, room 106. As I walk in I notice a suitcase on the bed, the linens striped and folded neatly at the foot of the bed, and Remliel looking out the window wearing a pair of jeans and a navy blue and white striped shirt. I turn to my mom, “What’s going on?” She bows her head and sighs, then lifts her head. “There’s a reason I wanted us all here today.” She says. “Today Remliel is coming home.” Jadyn’s eyes widen and then he lets out a high-pitched squeal, and then runs over to hug Remliel. I grab my mom’s arm and mouth “talk, now.” We walk outside into the hallway and I turn my mom so she’s looking right into my eyes. “Remliel isn’t coming home because she’s better.” It wasn’t a question it was a statement. “No, she is not.” My mom sighs. “We can’t pay the bills in order for her to stay here. I guess a nurse’s pay can only get us so far” She says, raising her head to look me in the eyes. Her eyes are sad, and tired. “If she can’t stay here how is she supposed to get better? I mean is she going to go to school?” I ask. Mom walks over to the opposite wall and rests her hand on it. “I don’t know how she’s suppose to get better, and no, she will not be attending school.” She drops her hand and stares at the wall. “Our neighbor, Mrs.Wilxon, use to be a school teacher. She has volunteered to teach Remliel, for free.” Mrs.Wilxon is a widow. Her husband died about three years ago from a stroke, so I guess teaching a crazy person all day might help her feel less alone. “Well then,” I say, “I guess it’s a good thing I tidied up a bit.”
“Yeah,” she sighs, “I guess it is.”
We walk back into the room. Remliel is sitting in a chair with Jadyn on her lap. Jadyn is holding a stuffed rabbit, the same one that Remliel has had since she was two. “You know what else he told me?” whispers Remiel. “What?” Jadyn asks with wide eyes filled with curiosity. Who is she talking about? Who told her what? “He told me that one day he’ll teach me how to fly.” Remliel says, smiling wildly.
“Really? Can he teach me too? I want to fly.” Squeals Jadyn. “Umm, Remliel, who is going to teach you to fly?” I interrupt before this crazy fest goes on any longer. Jadyn holds up the rabbit “Tally is!” he shouts. My mom clears her throat to prevent two things from happening. One to prevent me from exploding with Jadyn in the room and to end the “flying lesson” conversation. “Let’s load your things into the car now okay Rem?” my mom says, with extraordinary calmness. Remliel nods and lifts Jadyn off her lap. Mom grabs Remliel’s suitcase, I take Jadyn’s hand, and we exit room 106.
Chapter Four
I can’t believe my mom. She cleaned out the studio behind my back, behind Jadyn’s back, behind my dad’s back. Before he died my dad was an artist. When he bought the house he designated one, specific, room to be his art studio, and she cleaned it out! I didn’t’ even know she had the guts to open the door, let alone touch the contents of the room. It had gone from being a beautiful studio, with an easel, boxes of paints, and walls lined with paintings to having a mattress, and even a desk and bookshelf! Before she was sent to the clinic Remliel and I shared a room, and to be honest, sometimes she scared me so bad I slept on the couch. Once the whole rose bush fiasco occurred mom packed up here things and signed her into Saint Jewels and placed the rest of her things into storage, which are now, out of storage and in dad’s studio. Once mom helped Remliel unpack her things I pulled her aside, yet again, for an explanation. “Where are his paintings?” I ask with pure anger filling my words. “Don’t worry Cassie, I would never get rid of his paintings,” she sighs, “they’re in my room in my closet.” My face hardens with every word she speaks, then I let it soften. I realize I must try to understand this mess we’re in is far harder on her than it is on me. “I’m sorry.” I whisper. My mom embraces me in a hug, “it’s okay.” She sings, “it’s okay.” I keep my head down so she doesn’t see my tears. “Can, can I…” I stutter, “Can I have them? His paintings?” mom nods. “They’re in the back of the closet.” She breathes. I turn away and begin walking towards mom’s room. I open the door and quietly shut it. Then, I run to the closet, rip open the door, and dig my way to the back. I finally find them and yank each and every one out and hold them tightly to my chest, tears streaming down my face. Five minutes later I calm down and ease the paintings away from my embrace. I lay them neatly on the ground and look at each one. There are seven in total, the seven he never sold. Four of them are abstract paintings, filled with swirling colors of how he felt that day, but the other three are truly beautiful. One of the paintings is of a beautiful woman standing in a field of flowers with her arms stretched out and fingers spread wide. The woman looks like mom. Another painting is of the old abandoned train station about a mile away. The last one isn’t as clear, but it’s my favorite. It’s of two young girls stand on a hill overlooking valleys, flowers, mountains, and they are holding hands. The confusing part though is that one girl normal, opaque, but the other, the other is translucent. You can see right through her but it’s foggy almost like she’s a ghost. I gather up the paintings and cradle them in my arms, remembering the amazing artist who created them and how unfair it was that such an understanding person could do such a thing. To do the unthinkable to themselves. I stand up, huddling over his paintings, and trudge to my room. I lay out the paintings on my bed, go over to be dresser, pull out a hammer and three nails, and begin skewering the walls. After about a minute of my pounding my mom opens the door and pokes her head in. She looks at me, at the hammer, then at the paintings. “They deserve to be hung up.” She says. I nod, and she closes the door . I first hang up the painting of the train station, then woman in the field, then the two girls, saving the best for last. I turn around and scan my eyes over them. Suddenly, a wave of anger, confusion, and immense despair washes over me. I crumble to the ground and pull my legs against my chest, sobbing. Gradually, I regain control, and I remember my dream, remember the silver tear, remember… Marley. I need Marley. I need to find him.
What are you doing at the old train station?” Caleb asks, his voice cracking from bad reception. “Just get over here, there’s someone I want you to meet.” There’s a long vacant pause at the end of the phone. “Caleb, he’s a dog.”
“Oh, alright. Wait, you want me to meet a dog?”
“Yes, now stop asking questions and haul your butt over here!”
“Fine.” He laughs, then hangs up. I slide my chin over the over the edge of the receiver and ease my phone shut. Marley turns his head to look at me when I begin stroking his glossy coat. I slide my hand down to his shoulder, along his arm, to cradle his injured paw. I don’t know what or how he did it, but somehow, that horrible man had done something to Marley’s paw, causing the poor thing to limp. Marley begins to whimper the closer my hand got to his paw. I guess he thought I was going to hurt him. “I’ll never hurt you,” I coo, “I’ll keep you safe as best I can.” He looks up at me, his sad eyes glistening, and rests his head on my thigh. Gently, I begin massaging his paw with my thumb, making tiny circular motions. He closes his eyes, and drifts off to sleep, and I think. I think of how unfair it is that such a wonderful being is treated so poorly every day, I think of how desperately I want Marley to be my dog to love and cherish, and I think if the drunken man even knows or cares that Marley is somewhere out of reach, or if the only thing he cares about is his precious bottle of Budweiser. I become lost in my thoughts and time races by, when the roar of Caleb’s truck shakes me from my mental slumber. Marley raises his head and a low growl rumbles deep inside his throat. “Shh, it’s alright.” I coax, skimming my fingers down is back. Caleb climbs out of the big black Jeep and strolls over. “This the dog?” he asks. I raise my eyebrow. “Of course, sorry dumb question.” He says shaking his head and rubbing his eyebrow. I smile, take his hand, and place it on Marley’s head. Caleb softly strokes Marley. Caleb's eyelids are heavy, and he’s unsteady standing on the train tracks. “Tired?” I ask. He doesn’t look up, just keeps stroking. His mind is foggy with smoke. That sickly, foul, sweet smoke “Yes.” He stutters, his voice a perfect example of monotone. I uncross my legs and dangle them over the edge of the platform. “Caleb…” I whisper.
“Don’t.” he interrupts, anger and stress filling his voice, a tone I’ve never heard from him. He finally looks me in the eye. I take in a sharp breath. His eyelids have a red rim around the edges and his eyes are enflamed. They begin to tear and he turns away.
“Look Cassie, it’s not easy okay? It’s not, especially when it’s right in front of you all the time, and when your father.” He stops mid sentence when I recoil from his last word. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Cassie I understand it’s hard, but it’s been five years,” he lifts my chin then cradles my hands, “I just think it’s time you let go.” I drop my chin and let my hair fall like a curtain in front of my face. Marley emits a faint whimper and strokes my arm with his paw. “I suppose,” sigh, “we both have daddy issues we need to sort out.”
“Yeah, I guess we do.” He lays his hand on my knee and pushes my hair away. I look up, and receive a kiss. Fierce but feathery. Caleb pulls away. “C’mon, I’ll walk you and Marley home.”
“Oh, alright. Wait, you want me to meet a dog?”
“Yes, now stop asking questions and haul your butt over here!”
“Fine.” He laughs, then hangs up. I slide my chin over the over the edge of the receiver and ease my phone shut. Marley turns his head to look at me when I begin stroking his glossy coat. I slide my hand down to his shoulder, along his arm, to cradle his injured paw. I don’t know what or how he did it, but somehow, that horrible man had done something to Marley’s paw, causing the poor thing to limp. Marley begins to whimper the closer my hand got to his paw. I guess he thought I was going to hurt him. “I’ll never hurt you,” I coo, “I’ll keep you safe as best I can.” He looks up at me, his sad eyes glistening, and rests his head on my thigh. Gently, I begin massaging his paw with my thumb, making tiny circular motions. He closes his eyes, and drifts off to sleep, and I think. I think of how unfair it is that such a wonderful being is treated so poorly every day, I think of how desperately I want Marley to be my dog to love and cherish, and I think if the drunken man even knows or cares that Marley is somewhere out of reach, or if the only thing he cares about is his precious bottle of Budweiser. I become lost in my thoughts and time races by, when the roar of Caleb’s truck shakes me from my mental slumber. Marley raises his head and a low growl rumbles deep inside his throat. “Shh, it’s alright.” I coax, skimming my fingers down is back. Caleb climbs out of the big black Jeep and strolls over. “This the dog?” he asks. I raise my eyebrow. “Of course, sorry dumb question.” He says shaking his head and rubbing his eyebrow. I smile, take his hand, and place it on Marley’s head. Caleb softly strokes Marley. Caleb's eyelids are heavy, and he’s unsteady standing on the train tracks. “Tired?” I ask. He doesn’t look up, just keeps stroking. His mind is foggy with smoke. That sickly, foul, sweet smoke “Yes.” He stutters, his voice a perfect example of monotone. I uncross my legs and dangle them over the edge of the platform. “Caleb…” I whisper.
“Don’t.” he interrupts, anger and stress filling his voice, a tone I’ve never heard from him. He finally looks me in the eye. I take in a sharp breath. His eyelids have a red rim around the edges and his eyes are enflamed. They begin to tear and he turns away.
“Look Cassie, it’s not easy okay? It’s not, especially when it’s right in front of you all the time, and when your father.” He stops mid sentence when I recoil from his last word. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Cassie I understand it’s hard, but it’s been five years,” he lifts my chin then cradles my hands, “I just think it’s time you let go.” I drop my chin and let my hair fall like a curtain in front of my face. Marley emits a faint whimper and strokes my arm with his paw. “I suppose,” sigh, “we both have daddy issues we need to sort out.”
“Yeah, I guess we do.” He lays his hand on my knee and pushes my hair away. I look up, and receive a kiss. Fierce but feathery. Caleb pulls away. “C’mon, I’ll walk you and Marley home.”
Chapter Five
When Caleb and I got to my house my mom’s car was gone. “She’s probably at the hospital.” I say when Caleb looks at me. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Alright.” He kisses me lightly then leans down and places his lips next to my ear, “I’m gonna try harder. Alright?” I nod and he walks off. The house is completely silent when I walk in. I grab a box of Cheez-its and trudge off to my room. I slam the door shut and flop down on my bed. I hear the muffled sound of two female voices coming from the other side of the wall. I place my ear against the wall and the voices become less obscured. “But why does the answer have to be two? Why can’t it be four or three?” Remliel asks the mystery person. “Well… I suppose because that’s just the way it’s suppose to be when you do the equation correctly. That’s what was decided.” I find that the “mystery person” was Mrs.Wilxon, Remliel’s new teacher.
“But who decided on what is right and what is wrong?”
“Old grumpy men, that’s who. Old men who wanted to cage imaginative minds like yours.” There’s a long pregnant pause.
“Then why do we have to listen to what they say?” Remliel asks. God, she’s acting like a two year old.
“Because,” Mrs.Wilxon sighs, “doing what those old grumpy men tell us to do is the only way we can be accepted into society and even them some of us are rejected.” The pause that occupies the next thirty seconds is the kind of pause where even if you’re just listening you can tell they’re staring at each other.
“I don’t want to be accepted by society.” “Remliel mutters.
“And that, dear child, is why I admire you. Now back to the schoolwork at hand.” I remove my ear from the wall and once again the two of them are just muffled noises. Lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, I’m enveloped in my own thoughts. Swimming in my memories a slideshow of my life, with Remliel as my sister, is played out on the back of my eyelids. The pictures begin to slow down, until eventually they’re moving at a glacial pace. The slideshow ends and my eyelids glide open to reveal the ceiling. The plain, white, cracked ceiling. I’ve never understood Remliel, no one has, but I think she’s finally found the one person who does. The more I think about it, the more I wish I could be the one who understood her, that maybe I can be more like her sister, instead of acting like a disapproving mother. I hear Remliel’s bedroom door open, a faint goodbye, and then the door closes shut. I look at the clock. It’s 3:30, Remliel’s tutoring session must be over. I tumble off my bed and stride over to my bookshelf. Skimming the rows of novels, I make an attempt to recollect all the books mom had sent Remliel while she was in the hospital, I decide to select two of my favorites. The Hunch Back of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo and The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux. Coddling the two books, I make my way towards Remliel’s chamber. The floor boards creak and wail beneath my feet. I raise my fist against the door, but before I can even knock, I hear a faint “Come in.” I grasp the cold brass knob and begin to turn. Creaking the door open, I poke my head in and see Remliel sitting in a chair and looking out the window. . “Hey,” I murmur, “how was your study session.”
“It went well thank you.” She states, not even turning around to look at me. I stalk over to the window and find she’s watching a rabbit munching on a bit of grass.
“Beautiful isn’t he.” Remliel coos. As I eye the rabbit I take note of the missing patches of fur, fringed ear, and cockeye. To be honest, he just may be the ugliest damn rabbit I’ve ever seen.
“I suppose.” I mutter. Remliel wraps her arms around her waist and scrunches her fingers, pulling at the cotton fabric. Tilting her head down towards the paint stained carpet she whispers, “That’s not what I meant.” I’ve come to notice that Remliel never seems to mean what she says. Either that, or everyone else doesn’t understand the meaning behind the words she speaks. “I have something for you.” I say, startling myself. I reveal the two classics I had hidden behind my back. “I figured, if you want to, you might be interested in reading these.” I stretch my arm out in front of her, hover the books in front of her crossed arms. Slowly, she untangles her fingers from her shirt, and accepts the novels. “Thank you,” she breathes, “I have a story for you as well.” She turns and places the books on her metallic desk. Unlatching a trunk, she begins to rummage around, exploring every corner and crevice to find what she desired. “Here.” She gasps excitedly, lifting her torso and head from the trunk. In her right hand she has a red leather bound journal. “I found this in under my mattress in my room at Saint Jewels. It’s not a published book or anything but I think someone who had been in the room before be had written it,” she trots over to me and shoves the journal into my unexpecting arms, “I read it myself. It’s a really good story.” I gaze at the leather bound journal, skimming my fingers over the cover. “What’s it’s title?” I question.
“It doesn’t have one, but I call it Something Like Nothing.”
“Something like nothing.” I murmur under my breath. I look up and find that Remliel is staring at me. “What?” I ask.
“You know, you and I are more alike than everyone thinks.”
“Well, of course we’re somewhat alike, we’re twins.” Remliel squints her eyes tilts her head to the right.
“That’s not what I meant.” She says. I smile and begin heading towards the door.
“Seeya.” I say.
“Goodbye.”
“Alright.” He kisses me lightly then leans down and places his lips next to my ear, “I’m gonna try harder. Alright?” I nod and he walks off. The house is completely silent when I walk in. I grab a box of Cheez-its and trudge off to my room. I slam the door shut and flop down on my bed. I hear the muffled sound of two female voices coming from the other side of the wall. I place my ear against the wall and the voices become less obscured. “But why does the answer have to be two? Why can’t it be four or three?” Remliel asks the mystery person. “Well… I suppose because that’s just the way it’s suppose to be when you do the equation correctly. That’s what was decided.” I find that the “mystery person” was Mrs.Wilxon, Remliel’s new teacher.
“But who decided on what is right and what is wrong?”
“Old grumpy men, that’s who. Old men who wanted to cage imaginative minds like yours.” There’s a long pregnant pause.
“Then why do we have to listen to what they say?” Remliel asks. God, she’s acting like a two year old.
“Because,” Mrs.Wilxon sighs, “doing what those old grumpy men tell us to do is the only way we can be accepted into society and even them some of us are rejected.” The pause that occupies the next thirty seconds is the kind of pause where even if you’re just listening you can tell they’re staring at each other.
“I don’t want to be accepted by society.” “Remliel mutters.
“And that, dear child, is why I admire you. Now back to the schoolwork at hand.” I remove my ear from the wall and once again the two of them are just muffled noises. Lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, I’m enveloped in my own thoughts. Swimming in my memories a slideshow of my life, with Remliel as my sister, is played out on the back of my eyelids. The pictures begin to slow down, until eventually they’re moving at a glacial pace. The slideshow ends and my eyelids glide open to reveal the ceiling. The plain, white, cracked ceiling. I’ve never understood Remliel, no one has, but I think she’s finally found the one person who does. The more I think about it, the more I wish I could be the one who understood her, that maybe I can be more like her sister, instead of acting like a disapproving mother. I hear Remliel’s bedroom door open, a faint goodbye, and then the door closes shut. I look at the clock. It’s 3:30, Remliel’s tutoring session must be over. I tumble off my bed and stride over to my bookshelf. Skimming the rows of novels, I make an attempt to recollect all the books mom had sent Remliel while she was in the hospital, I decide to select two of my favorites. The Hunch Back of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo and The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux. Coddling the two books, I make my way towards Remliel’s chamber. The floor boards creak and wail beneath my feet. I raise my fist against the door, but before I can even knock, I hear a faint “Come in.” I grasp the cold brass knob and begin to turn. Creaking the door open, I poke my head in and see Remliel sitting in a chair and looking out the window. . “Hey,” I murmur, “how was your study session.”
“It went well thank you.” She states, not even turning around to look at me. I stalk over to the window and find she’s watching a rabbit munching on a bit of grass.
“Beautiful isn’t he.” Remliel coos. As I eye the rabbit I take note of the missing patches of fur, fringed ear, and cockeye. To be honest, he just may be the ugliest damn rabbit I’ve ever seen.
“I suppose.” I mutter. Remliel wraps her arms around her waist and scrunches her fingers, pulling at the cotton fabric. Tilting her head down towards the paint stained carpet she whispers, “That’s not what I meant.” I’ve come to notice that Remliel never seems to mean what she says. Either that, or everyone else doesn’t understand the meaning behind the words she speaks. “I have something for you.” I say, startling myself. I reveal the two classics I had hidden behind my back. “I figured, if you want to, you might be interested in reading these.” I stretch my arm out in front of her, hover the books in front of her crossed arms. Slowly, she untangles her fingers from her shirt, and accepts the novels. “Thank you,” she breathes, “I have a story for you as well.” She turns and places the books on her metallic desk. Unlatching a trunk, she begins to rummage around, exploring every corner and crevice to find what she desired. “Here.” She gasps excitedly, lifting her torso and head from the trunk. In her right hand she has a red leather bound journal. “I found this in under my mattress in my room at Saint Jewels. It’s not a published book or anything but I think someone who had been in the room before be had written it,” she trots over to me and shoves the journal into my unexpecting arms, “I read it myself. It’s a really good story.” I gaze at the leather bound journal, skimming my fingers over the cover. “What’s it’s title?” I question.
“It doesn’t have one, but I call it Something Like Nothing.”
“Something like nothing.” I murmur under my breath. I look up and find that Remliel is staring at me. “What?” I ask.
“You know, you and I are more alike than everyone thinks.”
“Well, of course we’re somewhat alike, we’re twins.” Remliel squints her eyes tilts her head to the right.
“That’s not what I meant.” She says. I smile and begin heading towards the door.
“Seeya.” I say.
“Goodbye.”
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