After a few minutes my father and I detangle ourselves. I know he has to
talk to Mom. They haven't had enough time alone lately. He exits and
Jonathon comes in. He has a very worried look on his face. It compliments
his eyebrows nicely.
"We were all real worried for awhile. Are you feeling ok now?" I know he's going to ask what happened. I don't know the cover story. I'll feign memory loss.
"Yea, I feel fine. The only side effect is a splitting headache. Did my mom say what happened? I don't remember anything." I set this one up good. There's no way he could turn it around.
"I think your grandpa said that you were sensitive to car exhaust. There was a lot where you guys were." Poppa's good at what he did. That's a good lie because it's partly true.
Wait. Where is Poppa? I know he was at the warehouse. I haven't seen him.
"Is Poppa still here?"
"No, he left early this morning. He was reluctant to go, but I guess he had an important meeting." Jonathon noticed my concern. He's trying to make it seem like Poppa was forced to go. God he's sweet.
Somehow we can't find anything else to say. We stare at each other for several minutes before a small object is hurled toward Jonathon. It takes a few seconds for me to realize it's a child. Jonathon pulls the girl off and puts her on the ground. He's smiling.
"Hello Liz. I want you to meet my friend Emily. Emily, this is Liz."
The little girl looks at me curiously. "Elizabeth. Only Jon can call me Liz." What a funny kid.
"Nice to meet you Elizabeth. How do you know Jonathon?" He didn't say anything about having a sister.
"My dad is his mom's friend. I've known him since I was born." Oh. This is Will's daughter. That explains the curious look. Mom told me he was a reporter before the CIA destroyed his life.
"How do you know Jon? I've never seen you before. I know all of Jon's friends." Maybe she'll take after her father and become a reporter. She certainly has the instincts.
"I met Jonathon two days ago. I'm visiting from Canada." I wonder how many questions she's going to ask.
"Why are you here?" I hope that Jonathon will stop her sometime soon. I hate questions.
"My parents used to live here. Jonathon's mom is an old friend of my mother." Short and true. Not the whole truth, but enough.
"This isn't an interrogation Liz. Leave her alone." He noticed my discomfort. I'm glad. I don't know how many more questions I can take.
Jonathon and Elizabeth begin to pester each other and my mind wanders. My hunch tells me that Sark won't come back. He's done enough to traumatize our family for a long time. We will overcome it, but it's still an obstacle. His appearance clears some of the grayness of the past. There were times Mom would have terrible nightmares, dreaming of things that hurt her. One particular night she screamed, "No I don't." over and over. Dad and I tried to wake her up, but it took two hours for her to quiet down.
We can never wake her up from nightmares. She dreams them out, no matter how much pain they cause. The worst one occurred when I was five. She screamed "No" for an hour before whimpering for the rest of the night. When she finally woke up Dad held her. We all stayed home, curled in bed. Dad and I put our arms around Mom, protecting her from whatever was haunting her. It became a ritual. Whenever Mom had a bad dream, Dad and I protected her. After a few horror-filled nights, our arms became a safe haven. Mom slept in peace while we held her.
It's been a long time since we've had to protect her. I only hope Sark's appearance won't trigger any more nightmares. I think he was the source. He was the demon in her mind. God I hope she doesn't have any more nightmares.
My thoughts are interrupted by Jonathon shaking me. "Emily?"
"Yes?" He must be worried about me losing consciousness again. Whenever I daydream I look like I'm in a coma.
"You almost looked dead a moment ago." Ok. Maybe I look dead when I daydream.
"My mind wandered." The air in the room seems heavier.
"Oh, Liz wants some ice cream. We're going to go get it. What's your favorite?" Ice cream sounds really good right now. It's starting to get hot in here.
"Strawberry." It's classic. Strawberry is like, the oldest flavor. If it's lasted so long, it has to be the best. You can't find plain chocolate or plain vanilla anymore. The only think left is milk chocolate and French vanilla. The only kind of plain ice cream left is strawberry.
"Original are we? Alright, we'll be back soon with some strawberry ice cream. Don't get out of bed. If you need anything Mom's right around the corner." Sure. I won't get out of bed. My doctor told me not to get out of bed when I had the chicken pox. Did I listen to him? No. I smile anyway.
"Ok. Hurry back." I want something cold. I'm starting to sweat. My eyes linger on the door for a long time after they exit. There's a clock above the frame. 12:30. Has it really been that long? I woke up around 11:45. My parents have been gone for a while.
I swing my legs off the bed. I hope they'll hold me up. I test my left leg. It seems able to support me. They are a bit shaky, but I manage to make it to a window. The view is breath taking. I've always loved looking at pictures of the ocean. Being in the middle of Canada gave me a love of the ocean. Here I am, looking out at its blue-green waters. I open the window and stick my head out. It smells wonderful. Candles could never catch the aroma I smell now. Ocean candles litter my room. They are nothing.
The heat in the room disperses, and a cool breeze replaces it. I close my eyes and let the breeze wash over me. I lose track of time. After awhile I open my eyes. The first sight that greets me is my parents. They're walking barefoot, holding hands. They stop to pick up their shoes and head towards the house. Mom's hair is being thrown around in the playful breezes. She looks beautiful. Dad obviously thinks so too, because he kisses her. Like I said before, it's like they've only been married for a couple years. No one looking at them now would guess what they've been through. What they've had to endure.
"I thought I told you not to get out of bed." Busted. I turn around slowly and smile.
"I never listened to my doctor, what makes you think I'd listen to you?" He grins.
"Because I'm holding your ice cream hostage. Into bed or it goes into my dog's food bowl." Damn. He has a good point.
"Fine. Don't harm the ice cream. It never did anything to you." I slide onto the bed and hold out my hand. I want ice cream. Now.
He hands it to me and I relish the strawberry goodness. I happen to be a very sloppy ice cream eater, especially when it's half melted. He forgot napkins.
Oh.My.God.
He just kissed me.
Are you supposed to feel light headed? I feel like I just took some sort of drug.
"You had some ice cream on your lips." Did I mention how much I love ice cream?
"Thanks." Sneaky devil. He forgot the napkins on purpose. Not that I mind. Not at all.
We smile at each other while we finish. He leans over and kisses me again.
Ah, the goodness of strawberry ice cream.
AN: I know everyone wanted some Emily/Jonathon action. I think we have a complete bed set of fluff. Review! Please! *Duck
"We were all real worried for awhile. Are you feeling ok now?" I know he's going to ask what happened. I don't know the cover story. I'll feign memory loss.
"Yea, I feel fine. The only side effect is a splitting headache. Did my mom say what happened? I don't remember anything." I set this one up good. There's no way he could turn it around.
"I think your grandpa said that you were sensitive to car exhaust. There was a lot where you guys were." Poppa's good at what he did. That's a good lie because it's partly true.
Wait. Where is Poppa? I know he was at the warehouse. I haven't seen him.
"Is Poppa still here?"
"No, he left early this morning. He was reluctant to go, but I guess he had an important meeting." Jonathon noticed my concern. He's trying to make it seem like Poppa was forced to go. God he's sweet.
Somehow we can't find anything else to say. We stare at each other for several minutes before a small object is hurled toward Jonathon. It takes a few seconds for me to realize it's a child. Jonathon pulls the girl off and puts her on the ground. He's smiling.
"Hello Liz. I want you to meet my friend Emily. Emily, this is Liz."
The little girl looks at me curiously. "Elizabeth. Only Jon can call me Liz." What a funny kid.
"Nice to meet you Elizabeth. How do you know Jonathon?" He didn't say anything about having a sister.
"My dad is his mom's friend. I've known him since I was born." Oh. This is Will's daughter. That explains the curious look. Mom told me he was a reporter before the CIA destroyed his life.
"How do you know Jon? I've never seen you before. I know all of Jon's friends." Maybe she'll take after her father and become a reporter. She certainly has the instincts.
"I met Jonathon two days ago. I'm visiting from Canada." I wonder how many questions she's going to ask.
"Why are you here?" I hope that Jonathon will stop her sometime soon. I hate questions.
"My parents used to live here. Jonathon's mom is an old friend of my mother." Short and true. Not the whole truth, but enough.
"This isn't an interrogation Liz. Leave her alone." He noticed my discomfort. I'm glad. I don't know how many more questions I can take.
Jonathon and Elizabeth begin to pester each other and my mind wanders. My hunch tells me that Sark won't come back. He's done enough to traumatize our family for a long time. We will overcome it, but it's still an obstacle. His appearance clears some of the grayness of the past. There were times Mom would have terrible nightmares, dreaming of things that hurt her. One particular night she screamed, "No I don't." over and over. Dad and I tried to wake her up, but it took two hours for her to quiet down.
We can never wake her up from nightmares. She dreams them out, no matter how much pain they cause. The worst one occurred when I was five. She screamed "No" for an hour before whimpering for the rest of the night. When she finally woke up Dad held her. We all stayed home, curled in bed. Dad and I put our arms around Mom, protecting her from whatever was haunting her. It became a ritual. Whenever Mom had a bad dream, Dad and I protected her. After a few horror-filled nights, our arms became a safe haven. Mom slept in peace while we held her.
It's been a long time since we've had to protect her. I only hope Sark's appearance won't trigger any more nightmares. I think he was the source. He was the demon in her mind. God I hope she doesn't have any more nightmares.
My thoughts are interrupted by Jonathon shaking me. "Emily?"
"Yes?" He must be worried about me losing consciousness again. Whenever I daydream I look like I'm in a coma.
"You almost looked dead a moment ago." Ok. Maybe I look dead when I daydream.
"My mind wandered." The air in the room seems heavier.
"Oh, Liz wants some ice cream. We're going to go get it. What's your favorite?" Ice cream sounds really good right now. It's starting to get hot in here.
"Strawberry." It's classic. Strawberry is like, the oldest flavor. If it's lasted so long, it has to be the best. You can't find plain chocolate or plain vanilla anymore. The only think left is milk chocolate and French vanilla. The only kind of plain ice cream left is strawberry.
"Original are we? Alright, we'll be back soon with some strawberry ice cream. Don't get out of bed. If you need anything Mom's right around the corner." Sure. I won't get out of bed. My doctor told me not to get out of bed when I had the chicken pox. Did I listen to him? No. I smile anyway.
"Ok. Hurry back." I want something cold. I'm starting to sweat. My eyes linger on the door for a long time after they exit. There's a clock above the frame. 12:30. Has it really been that long? I woke up around 11:45. My parents have been gone for a while.
I swing my legs off the bed. I hope they'll hold me up. I test my left leg. It seems able to support me. They are a bit shaky, but I manage to make it to a window. The view is breath taking. I've always loved looking at pictures of the ocean. Being in the middle of Canada gave me a love of the ocean. Here I am, looking out at its blue-green waters. I open the window and stick my head out. It smells wonderful. Candles could never catch the aroma I smell now. Ocean candles litter my room. They are nothing.
The heat in the room disperses, and a cool breeze replaces it. I close my eyes and let the breeze wash over me. I lose track of time. After awhile I open my eyes. The first sight that greets me is my parents. They're walking barefoot, holding hands. They stop to pick up their shoes and head towards the house. Mom's hair is being thrown around in the playful breezes. She looks beautiful. Dad obviously thinks so too, because he kisses her. Like I said before, it's like they've only been married for a couple years. No one looking at them now would guess what they've been through. What they've had to endure.
"I thought I told you not to get out of bed." Busted. I turn around slowly and smile.
"I never listened to my doctor, what makes you think I'd listen to you?" He grins.
"Because I'm holding your ice cream hostage. Into bed or it goes into my dog's food bowl." Damn. He has a good point.
"Fine. Don't harm the ice cream. It never did anything to you." I slide onto the bed and hold out my hand. I want ice cream. Now.
He hands it to me and I relish the strawberry goodness. I happen to be a very sloppy ice cream eater, especially when it's half melted. He forgot napkins.
Oh.My.God.
He just kissed me.
Are you supposed to feel light headed? I feel like I just took some sort of drug.
"You had some ice cream on your lips." Did I mention how much I love ice cream?
"Thanks." Sneaky devil. He forgot the napkins on purpose. Not that I mind. Not at all.
We smile at each other while we finish. He leans over and kisses me again.
Ah, the goodness of strawberry ice cream.
AN: I know everyone wanted some Emily/Jonathon action. I think we have a complete bed set of fluff. Review! Please! *Duck