I was not to be so lucky. Only a few hours after Broots and I had said goodnight and I had made myself comfortable in Debbie's lovely room, I awoke screaming and bathed in sweat. Broots was shaking me desperately with a terrified look on his face.
"It's okay. Everything's okay." He pulled me close and rocked me in his arms. His voice was low and soothing. "It was just a dream. Just a nightmare."
Just a nightmare. The same nightmares I suffered through almost every night. I wiped a mix of tears and sweat from beneath my eyes. I looked down at myself and realised what a sodden mess the sheets were - not to mention the cowboy-print pyjamas I had borrowed from Broots.
"Oh, I'm so sorry." I stammered, flushing in embarrassment.
He just smiled with the patience of a parent. "It's okay, don't worry about it at all. I'll get this fixed up in no time. Tell you what, you go have a shower - it'll make you feel better - we'll get you some new PJs and fresh sheets and everything will be as good as new."
He was right, the shower did make me feel better and soon I was safely back in bed with clean sheets and fresh PJs which had little white clouds on them. Broots certainly did have cute sets of pyjamas. The ones he himself was wearing featured little trains. Broots chucked the cowboy PJs and the damp sheets into a hamper.
"Are you gonna be okay?" He asked, as he prepared to return to his own bed.
I shook my head. "I'm never going to be okay." I replied in a tremulous voice.
"Oh," Broots sighed sympathetically as he sat down on my bed. "Sure you will be."
"Will you... Can you please...?"
"I'd do anything for you, you know that." He said gently. "What is it?"
"Stay with me." I lowered my eyes, feeling ashamed that I needed him so much.
He looked at me for a long moment and somehow seemed to sense that I didn't mean for him to just sit by the bed until I fell asleep. Rather that I needed him to lie beside me as if just having the warmth of his body nearby would be enough to bring the security that might ward off the terrors of the night. Broots hesitated due to his natural shyness and because he was unsure of the right thing to do. He was terrified of doing anything that might hurt or frighten me.
"Sure." He said finally. He got into bed awkwardly and lay next to me. He relaxed considerably when I drew close to him and put my head on his shoulder. I had in the past shared a bed with my lovely computer nerd in this way after a nightmare, and men being men I waited expectantly for the same sort of desires to filter across to me from Broots. I was in bed with the man after all. I was surprised when the responses I was expecting did not eventuate. At least not in the way I imagined. It was not that Broots did not want me. His desire was evident but it was not projected towards me and was very carefully restrained. Predominantly he radiated concern, sympathy and an overwhelming longing to take away all my fears and pain. Feeling secure bathed in the warmth of his generous spirit, I slept deeply and dreamlessly.
As I emerged from my sleepy, blissfully cosy state the next day, I became aware that Broots was no longer next to me. I felt a moment of panic but he hadn't been gone long as the sheets beside me were still warm from his body. I heard his voice softly from the next room. I stretched out my awareness and discovered he was on the phone to Sydney.
"I'm sure everything's fine, Broots." Sydney was saying calmly.
"But Syd, she's been asleep for a hell of a long time. I'm not sure if I should wake her or not?"
I glanced at the clock on Debbie's bedside table. It was 3.00pm. I was startled by this fact - I'd never slept that late before. In fact, I was lucky to be able to sleep well at all due to my frequent and recurrent nightmares.
"She went through a lot yesterday. It's only natural for the body and the mind to need time to recuperate. She'll wake up when she's ready." Sydney replied reassuringly.
"You're right, thanks Sydney."
"Oh.. and Broots..."
"Yeah."
"She's very lucky to have you as a friend."
I felt Broots smile as he hung up the phone. One thing I'd noticed about employees of The Centre is that they never said goodbye at the end of a phone call. They simply completed their conversation and disconnected. In the case of Miss Parker, the customary 'hello' was also eliminated and replaced by a terse 'What?' in varying degrees of intensity depending on her mood.
"Broots?" I called out, my voice sounding weak. I was still feeling pretty shaken from the events of the previous day.
"Hey." He said in a warm voice as he appeared in the doorway in a flash. "How are you feeling?"
"Not too bad, considering." I replied.
He smiled and I perceived that he had spent the past several hours lying in bed awake just keeping me company despite the fact that I was asleep. I appreciated the gesture.
"What would you like to do now?" He asked. "Do you want to sleep some more? Or have some breakfast / lunch / afternoon tea?"
"I'm not really hungry right now. Thanks anyway. And I think I've slept enough too. What I'd really like to do is see those red notebooks of Jarod's again."
"Melinda, are you sure?" He sounded worried. "Sydney said to wait."
"It's okay, Broots. I might not even touch them. I just want to talk with you about Jarod."
Again I felt that strange prickle of envy from him. I didn't understand that reaction at all. I tried to explore it a little but was met by that block I still seemed to have regarding Broots. There was something about him that I could just not quite perceive. I wondered why. It did not seem to be something bad that was hidden and my inability to ascertain what it was seemed to have more to do with me than him. I would have to discuss it with Sydney.
Broots went to fetch the notebooks. When he returned, we sat on Debbie's bed together with the notebooks spread out around us. Studiously avoiding touching those red books myself, I had Broots turn the pages for me and we read the newspaper articles within. We talked about Jarod's constant struggle against injustice and tyranny wherever he found it. He used his gifts to help people - people who couldn't fight back for themselves. So this is what Sydney meant when he said the answer to my question - about whether Jarod would care about what had been done to me - was obvious. Broots also told me about how Jarod had helped him. How Jarod had helped Broots gain custody of Debbie and how when his life had been in danger it was Jarod who had protected him.
I reached out to touch the notebook we were currently looking through but Broots pulled it away sharply. "Not yet." He said firmly. "Give yourself some more time."
"Alright." I agreed reluctantly. I knew he was right but a part of me just wanted to feel close to Jarod again.
"This guy you lived with and worked with... your 'lovely computer nerd'. What was his name?" asked Broots.
"Why do you want to know?" I asked sharply, suddenly feeling paranoid and suspicious. I had gone to a lot of trouble to keep him safe from The Centre, to the extent of not allowing myself to even think his name.
"Hey, hey." Broots said soothingly. "I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious. It's not like I wanted to go look him up or anything, I swear."
"I know." I replied softly. "I don't dare say it aloud. Just in case. I want to protect him."
"I understand."
His name is Lucas. I projected the thought towards Broots briefly and swiftly. He grinned in delight at the trust I had placed in him. Trust can kill you... I tried to ignore that inner voice.
I told him firmly. "You do not say that name aloud - not even to me, alright?"
"Of course. I promise."
Lucas. My lovely computer nerd. Even to think his name felt wonderful even if I still did not dare speak it aloud. I missed him so much - for ten years he had been my whole world. How many times had I wished that I could fall in love with him and we could live together happily ever after - that I could forget that The Centre ever existed and be free. However, just as forgetting my past was impossible so was feeling something that wasn't there. I loved Lucas dearly but not in the way that either he or I wanted. What would I give to hear his voice again - but was it safe?
"Broots, is there any way I could call him - to let him know I'm okay? I can't risk The Centre being able to trace the call. Can you prevent that? Is it possible?"
He pondered this for a long moment. "I believe so. After all, for one, The Centre has no reason to be monitoring you, and two, I designed the security and tracing systems myself." He paced around the room excited by the challenge and rambled on. "I periodically sweep my house for bugs, particularly on the phones, but I'll do that again before you make your call. Then I'll log onto The Centre's mainframe and make sure nothing registers on the system. We can re-route your call via... yes... that way no-one will be able to determine his phone number." His eyes lit up with an idea. "And I could scramble the signal as well!"
I smiled at his enthusiasm. I knew that technically I could just go to a phone booth, call Lucas and The Centre would probably never find out. But the thought of even the possiblity of putting Lucas at risk in any way scared the hell out of me. Broots' plan involved way more precaution than was absolutely necessary but I certainly appreciated the effort. He understood that the more precautions we took, the safer I would feel. And better safe than sorry.
It took some time for us to set everything up to Broots' satisfaction. I was very impressed at his technical prowess. Lucas was more than proficient where computers were concerned but compared to Broots he was way out of his league.
"We're ready to go whenever you want." Broots announced cheerfully from his position behind his impressive computer system.
I took a deep breath. Was I being selfish? Perhaps putting Lucas in danger just because I believed contacting him would be of comfort to my shattered nerves? I nearly considered forgetting this foolish idea until I remembered how much Lucas would be worrying about me. He knew when I left that he may never hear from me again and it broke his heart. And I knew him well enough to know how much my calling him now would mean to him and how it would ease his mind.
My hand shook as I reached for the phone. Broots gave me a reassuring smile as he poised his hands above his keyboard. I dialled the number. I heard it ring on the other end. Please be home, I thought to myself - I didn't know if I'd have the courage to call again.
"Hello." The voice on the other end said. Lucas' voice.
I didn't know what to say. Meanwhile, Broots worked busily on his keyboard and kept an eagle eye on the information appearing on his screen.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" There was a pause, then, "Melinda, is that you?" The hope in Lucas' voice was reflected in his essence which I could sense even down the telephone line.
"Yes." I breathed.
"Are you okay? How is everything going?" The questions tumbled out in a rush - along with the unspoken one, Will you ever be coming back?
"I'm fine. Things have gotten a little tense here but I've made some friends who have helped enormously."
"That's great, I'm really happy for you. Will they help you with what you need to do?"
Broots and I exchanged a glance - he could hear both ends of the conversation through his equipment - and I sensed the uncertainty within him. He wanted to help in any way he could but the truth was he didn't know what I was planning to do - and wasn't exactly sure he wanted to know.
"Maybe." I replied simply. "It's too early to say. How are you? How is the business going?"
"Things are going pretty well - considering you're not around to keep me motivated." Lucas laughed but then his voice went soft. "I miss you so much, sweet girl."
"I miss you too, you sexy nerd." I laughed as Broots raised his eyebrows at our pet names for each other.
Broots reluctantly gave me the signal that it was time to end the call if we were to maintain the plan for minimum risk.
"I have to go. I'll try to contact you again if its possible but I'm not promising anything."
"I know." Lucas replied. "Good luck, and promise me you'll be careful."
"I'll try, I promise."
We said 'goodbye' - which made me feel very non-Centre-like - and Broots disconnected the call for me. After spending a few minutes doing final checks that nothing had registered on The Centre's system that even looked like my call had been noted, he looked at me questioningly, wondering how I was feeling after contacting Lucas.
I went to him and put my arms around him. "Thank you, Broots."
He didn't say anything but I could feel his pleasure glowing from inside him. Then a thought registered in my head coming from his direction. You're most welcome. I looked at him in surprise.
"Did you get that?" He asked excitedly.
I nodded, sharing his excitement. We both realised that we could have a lot of fun with this newly discovered aspect of my abilities. Not only could I project a thought into someone else's head and have them actually 'hear' it but I could also receive such a projected thought - without even being prepared for it. Sure, I received unconsciously projected thoughts all the time - people 'thinking too loudly' - but to have one consciously 'sent' was something new.
Since I didn't have any spare clothes with me, Broots and I spent the rest of the day in our PJs - like a pyjama party! - and giggled and laughed and mucked around, feeling like teenagers again. At least that's how Broots felt. I felt like I imagined it would to be a teenager free of The Centre's influence. We moved to Broots' room and lounged around on his bed, watching TV, eating junk food and having entirely telepathic conversations. It felt wonderful!
Later, we received a call from Debbie. She and her friends had decided between them to stay at Fiona's again and Sarah would join them there instead.
"Is Melinda still there?" she asked her dad. One of my talents is being able to 'hear' both sides of other people's telephone conversations.
"Yeah." Broots replied, blushing a little.
"Cool," replied Debbie enthusiastically. "Can I talk to her?"
Broots passed the phone to me. "Debbie wants to say hi."
"Hi, Debbie. Are you having a good time?" I spoke into the phone.
"I sure am! Did you sleep okay last night?"
"Actually, I had an awful nightmare." I admitted, encouraged by Debbie's natural openness.
"Did Daddy stay with you? He does whenever I have a nightmare and I don't feel as scared. That's why I thought you should stay last night."
The sweetness of the girl touched me deeply. Would I have been like this as a child if I had had a normal life? "Yeah, your daddy is pretty good at making me feel less scared."
Broots grinned broadly at the comment and blushed again. Debbie told me a bit more about what she'd been doing with her friends. It all sounded so foreign and delightful to me. I loved hearing about it.
"If you're still around when I get back on Sunday afternoon, we'll have to hang out." Debbie said hopefully.
"Sure," I replied, "I'd like that."
I passed her back to her father and they discussed when she would be delivered home by the mother of either Fiona or Sarah.
When the call was completed, Broots said, "Hey, do you wanna go to a movie, like we had planned?"
I agreed readily. Although it would have been just as easy to go back to my place on the way and get some of my own clothes, we both were still in a fun mood, so I happily combed through Broots' wardrobe to pick out some clothes to wear. We both decided on jeans and similar shirts. Broots did not have the taste in contemporary fashion that Miss Parker excelled in. His clothing was a little dated but it was what he felt comfortable in and his vaguely retro style seemed to suit him. The shirt I had chosen felt groovy and suited my mood.
My good mood continued throughout the rest of the weekend. Broots and I had a great time at the movies munching through our popcorn. I was pleased that Broots had chosen a comedy. I had done enough crying recently. We sat for hours after the movie talking in a coffee shop.
I knew that I did not want to go back to my apartment yet - I did not feel ready to be alone - so when Broots hesitatingly suggested I stay another night I jumped at the opportunity. That night I slept in his room - not Debbie's - as there was more room for us in his bed. For some reason it never occurred to either of us to sleep separately.
This time there was less awkwardness and once again any desire for me emanating from Broots was carefully restrained by him. As soon as my head was resting on Broots' shoulder and his arms were around me, I drifted off into a deep, and thankfully dreamless, sleep.
