Chapter 10

Thingamajigger

The grounds keeper was a strange fellow. I call him the 'grounds keeper' but I am sure he had some other title, I never asked. He was always there, always somewhere in the background, working quietly and calmly, his strong hands fixing this or that, tending plants, oiling windows, pushing carts. He could have perfectly blended into that same backdrop if it wasn't for the fact he was an albino.

His flesh was shockingly pale, like marble, and his eyes the hue of fresh blood. At first he scared me, there was something about that dead white and red combination that reminded me all too much of finding my the body of my mother, Lillian. But he always had a calming smile and a wink for me that somehow told me to stay strong.

He alone believed me about my visions, and in the quiet moments he would bring me trinkets. A touch would send my mind dancing forward, and I would tell him tales of those who owned them. He would smile and take every word as truth.

I asked his name but he said it wouldn't matter. And the strange thing is that he never appeared in my visions. I never saw his future.

The humid air had grown hot over the next week, trapped under the hovering storm clouds that loomed over us, all black-blue like bruises.

I grew weak in the heat, panting and pawing away the sweat from my sticky skin. I longed for rain, for that breaking storm to release me from my torment, but it did not come.

Mercifully the hydrotherapy was cancelled, perhaps because we all where boiling alive already, so today we all sat in the lounge area, reading. Buffy was stretched out in a rather vulgar fashion upon the chaise lounge in full sun, eyes shut, a slight smile on her lips. Over the past week her skin had grown bronze and her hair lightened.

"I don't understand how this don't bother the heck out of you." I said. Buffy shifted and cracked open an eye to observe me. "The heat I mean. You're from Long Island, right?"

Buffy quirked an amused brow and lifted herself up on an elbow. When her attention was on me, I felt my heart kick up some. I swallowed and let a long breath out.

"And you're from Biloxi, why does it bother you so?" She said. "Look at you, cowering in the shadows over there. What are you? One of Dracula's brides?"

I snorted and feigned lack of amusement, returning to my novel, but I felt her eyes on me and my lips involuntarily curled into a smile. I couldn't help myself.

"If I were, you would be the first maiden I would bite." I said. I glanced up to see her lingering look- not the first I had noticed, and that too sped up my heart. Cheeks burning hot, I turned away. Was I imagining it? Could Buffy have the same unwholesome and misdirected lusts as I? I dared not dwell on it. I should bury those desires deeper still, for it wouldn't do to be found out. I glanced back, nonetheless, and hazel eyes met mine unabashedly.

The sound of someone hesitantly clearing their throat startled me. I turned to see Nurse McGrath, awkwardly standing to my left. Her eyes darted between me and Buffy, her mouth opening and closing. My cheeks burned with shame.

Buffy rolled her eyes and with a huff went back to sun bathing as if nothing had happened.

"Uh, Ms. Brandon, I am to take you to the alientist now."

"But it isn't Monday." I said. Had I time slipped again? I didn't realize I had had a vision. "Is it?"

"Uh, no. Sh...she… changed it. To today. And… it's today now, so." The flustered nurse said, her eyes darting between Buffy and I.

"She?" I said, a strange fear creeping over me.

"The head of medicine will be seeing you n-now, taking your case over from Doctor Pendergast. Didn't they tell you?" She said, picking at the hem of her uniform. "So we should go… now."

"Oh." I said, and stood and followed the nervous nurse. Buffy was watching me as I left, concern plain upon her beautiful face.

My vision cleared and I held myself, waiting for the pain to subside. I could smell brass and soil. I felt etched metal with my fingertips, and thought of clocks and crows.

But it was out of sight now, slipping from my mind like a dream one tries to recall but cannot hold onto.

I realised I was holding my breath, straining red faced, lungs roaring for air. I gasped and panted at the hot air, sucking lungfuls in with a hoarse, desperate sound.

Where was I? When was I?

Ginger hair and hot biscuits. Laughter. Blood and ice. An angel's shadow falling on a flooded, matted floor of broken glass and straw. A doll with her head turned backwards. Blood dripping on snow.

No compass. No map.

My hands. Yes, start with my hands. They are on the floor, gritty linoleum in mustard yellow. My fingernails chewed back. Breathe Alice, find time again.

It was evening. The sun dipping below the ever dark forest line, throwing butter and chili paste light across the room. I am on the floor of our room, Buffy's bed is empty and crisply made, as if she was never there. I stagger as I stand, holding onto the cool metal of the bed foot rail.

Where was I before? Was I here? Where was Buffy?

I swallowed some water from the glass on my bedside table and mopped my sweat beaded brow. I could still smell brass and soil. I felt like something ancient had clicked into place. I felt sick and weak and disjointed.

I dragged myself onto the bed and had collapsed just as Nurse McGrath entered carrying a glass of juice.

"Did y'have another seizure?" She said.

"Uh… I think so." I said.

"Are you… did you?"

"What?" I said, fumbling for the offered glass. It was weird, I usually hated the taste of prune juice they used to mask the bromide salts with, but it felt fantastic as it flowed over my dry tongue. It was rich and sweet and sour all at once. Like I hadn't tasted anything in forever.

"Did y'see anything?"

"Why do you ask? S'all stuff and nonsense Blanche, you know that."

The girl looked around for anyone listening, then stepped closer to me and in a hushed tone said "then why's it always come about?"

"It don't though, does it?"

"Auntie says my ma was… y'know… special too. Like, a witch. Said I might be too, it comes down the line sometimes. Hecate's gifts, she calls it. Moon magic."

"I ain't no witch." I said. "M'just sick."

"Oh." She said, her expression sinking. She nodded and turned to leave.

"Where's Buffy at?"

"Who?" Blanche said.

"Nevermind." I said. "M'just a little mixed up."

Nurse McGrath nodded and a smile flickered across her lips. An image flashed into my mind of her, torrid and sensual. I snapped my head away and turned to the window.

The taste of prune juice fading away to acidic ash.

When I looked back, she was gone.

"Dead as my dear heart" I said to no one, and for no reason.

I really was sick.

That night I saw him through my window, walking through the gardens with a tall dark haired woman in pale white victorian dress. The grounds keeper.

Funny, it never occurred to me that he may have a wife, such was the disgust people showed at his difference. If only they would know his kindness, maybe too they would do as I did and set aside their fears. I no longer thought of Lillian when he visited.

I thought of how I would want a father like him. And seeing that woman, also as deathly pale as him, walking beside him, I found myself aching for a mother to fill the gap. Oh, how my pale, red eyed parents would love me. We would all stroll in the forest at night, far, far from here.

I sighed and looked back at the sleeping form of Buffy. Since she had arrived the grounds keeper had not visited me once. He seemed to deliberately avoid passing her in the corridors. She was like sunlight to him.

Buffy was having a nightmare again, twisting her body and striking out with a slender arm, the muscles chorded and strong. Then her face knotted in anguish. She said something that I couldn't quite make out. It sounded like 'spike'.

I don't know what came over me, but I rose and crossed to her bedside. She seemed in so much pain, I wanted nothing but to comfort her. And so, I softly laid my hand on her arm and pulled it down to her side, stroking back the sweat stained hair on her brow.

"Shush now, Buffy. It's just a dream." I whispered. "It's all just a dream."

She woke, blinking and groggy, hovering in the hypnagogic state as I brushed at her face with cooling fingers. Her hand threaded into mine and she closed her eyes, pressing to my stroking hand.

"Alice?" She whispered.

"You were having a nightmare. It's okay, you are awake now."

"Am I?" She said quietly. "You never remember us when we are here. Where is the boundaries of dreaming? Are we dreaming now? Are you even real?"

"Us?"

Buffy nodded, her face haunted and needy. She shifted back, tugging on our interlocked fingers until I found myself laying beside her. Face to face. I felt my heart pound at my sternum, my breath hitching as I feel her breath warm on my face.

"Alice, I keep thinking I am going to wake up somewhere else. Far from here. For a moment I am confused, like I should be… like I am... someone else, somewhere else. Do you get that?"

I nodded, swallowing. Buffy seemed to me the most real thing here. I felt the warmth of her hand bleeding into mine, spreading through me, building pressure in my chest and in my groin.

"Sometimes" I said "sometimes I wake up and I am ice cold, unable to move, like I am encased in clay. I panic, try to breathe but can't, the pressure is too much on me. But it doesn't hurt. I am trapped in the darkness. Then the heat comes, and I am here. For those brief moments, I feel like I am… not someone else, but… changed. Does that make sense?"

Buffy's brow knotted as she struggled with her thoughts. I watched as a pink tongue tip wetted her lower lip.

"This place aint right." She said. "Everything tastes of ash. And the moon? Have you noticed the moon?"

I turner to the window behind me, my spine tingling with some unnamed dread. I half expect a silhouette, someone to be waiting at the window. But the grounds outside were empty and still in the bright blue moonlight.

"I can't see the moon from here." I whispered.

"No. But it's always full. The light is always the same."

Sometimes I forget we are both mad. She seems like a normal girl to me. No, not normal, exceptional. But here, in the moonlight, as I watch her struggle between dream and reality, her sanity seems as bruised and beaten as mine. Part of me wants to pull back from her, to cover my ears and not listen to her insane whispers. But I know part of me wants it. Wants her in every possible meaning of the word. So I stay beside her, fingers interlocked, aching for her touch.

And as I lay, losing myself in her closeness, her words began to seep into me like her body heat. Everything did taste of ash, but only on some days. On some days the food was full of flavor, bursting brilliant across my tongue. The moonlight changed. I know it did. Did it? Yes. It was dark a few days before.

Wasn't it? I felt a strange sensation like ice cracking and shifting, something black and sickly bubbling up from beneath.

"Alice. When you fall asleep here, do you dream?"

"Yes." I said with some certainty.

"You ever dream of me?" She whispered.

"Always." I whispered back.

"In your dreams, what are we doing?"

I swallowed. My hand stilled on Buffy's face, her cheek burning hot like the sun. She licked her lip again, and I did the same.

"If this is a dream, I could show you, and no one would stop us or tell us it's wrong."

Buffy's eyes glinted in the dark, tears forming at the edges of her sleepy eyes.

"Maybe it is."

"Wrong, or a dream?"

"Both, maybe." She chuckled, squeezing my fingers. I traced my fingers softly down the side of her cheek, making her eyes flutter shut. A distant rumble of thunder echoed through the silent ward.

"If I kiss you, will it taste of ash too?" She said.

"Maybe if you kiss me, we will both wake up." I said.

Buffy startled as something hit the window, and I yelped. She pulled away from me and I froze, my heart hammering. I didn't want to turn to see.

"What is it?" I said.

"I don't know". She said.

A loud crack. I let out a gasp, leaping from the bed, wrapping my shame in dressing gown and scurrying to the doorway. Only then, in the warm light of the hallway did I turn to the window.

Buffy bravely stood between me and the moonlit world outside, her feet planted strong, fists curled at her sides. She approached the window.

"No Buffy… Don't…" I hissed, but she ignored my warning and flipped the latch. The window creaked open, and to my horror she leaned out to get a better look.

"Someone's out there. Throwing stones." She said and I felt chills skitter through me like a nest of spiders.

"Buffy… please… I beg you."

"It's a girl." She said, beckoning.

"No. No, don't let her in!"

I rushed to close the window, terrified of whatever was outside, but as I reached Buffy's side I caught sight of the girl myself.

She was tall, thin, barely a teenager, that long limbed gawky stage before womanhood arrives. Her hair was dark brown, loose and long. She wore a red two piece middy dress, the blouse flecked with pink petals, a sailor collar and a black scarf. The pleated skirt revealed eggshell blue stockings and galoshes.

As she jogged to the window, I recognized her, and I could hardly believe it. She had grown so much since I had last laid eyes on her.

'What are you doing here?" I said.

'Climbing in this here window' the girl said.

"Who is she?" Buffy said, stepping back to let the girl climb in through the window. She dropped down heavily on the floor, out of breath and pleased as punch.

"Cynthia." I said.

"Hey sis." Cynthia said. "Did ya. Miss me?"