touch



We didn’t finish the packing in one day. The next morning after a quick breakfast, Mom and Aunt Grace loaded the car to take the first load to the new place. A shallow trunk and a short back seat didn’t leave much room, but we’d learned over the years that the breakables had a better chance of survival in the car. One of Aunt Grace’s co-workers who owned a pickup and trailer would stop by after lunch for the bigger pieces.

Mom already had a house lined up in the next county, which wasn’t far. We talked about possibly moving further, but the cost of gas and their current jobs just didn’t make it feasible. And quitting their jobs to find another place hiring two people, with comparable pay, was out of the question.

Gran and I packed up my bedroom and then I focused on taking apart the beds, getting them ready for the truck. With mattresses lined up on their side in the living room, by lunch time we lacked anywhere to sit for a break. I took my sandwich out to the porch. Warm from the work inside, I didn’t grab my jacket. I could see my breath. Christmas was only a few weeks away, but snow stubbornly refused to fall and blanket the world in newness.

Sitting in Gran’s chair, watching the frozen branches sway, I nearly choked on my bite of sandwich when Clavin’s cherry red shining car turned onto our drive. Yesterday, he hadn’t been himself and I wondered who really drove down my driveway.

I set my sandwich aside and stood waiting. He watched me but glanced at the house too. A good sign. No burning fixation that I’d noticed during a possession. That meant I just needed to deal with his pleading, which wasn’t such a bad thing. Better to listen to pleading than threats.

My face still vibrantly displayed a reminder of how far he could go. I studied him as he parked looking for any sign of aggression. Despite his apparent calm, I still hoped that Gran wouldn’t notice him. I didn’t want her getting hurt.

He opened his door and using the frame, struggled to leverage himself from his seat. His tousled hair stood out in different directions. The strands in front stuck up showing a bandage slightly below his hairline wrapping around his head. He didn’t look flushed with anger, just pale.

With obvious effort and determination, he extracted himself from the car. As he rounded the hood keeping a hand planted on it the entire time, the reason for his struggling progress became clear. A cast covered his leg from toe to mid-thigh… and not the walking kind.

The memory of his hitting the hood changed my self-concern to pity. “Are you supposed to be walking around on that?”

He stopped his approach, fingertips on the hood for balance, to glance down at his leg. “No.” Then he met my eyes. I saw fear. “I think I’m going crazy Tess. When I woke up this morning, there was a note by my bed. It looked like I wrote it, but I don’t remember writing it.”

A chill ran through me and it had nothing to do with the cold. “What did it say?”

“It was about you, but I don’t understand.” His voice quavered. Balancing against the hood, he reached into his pocket. Pulling out a crumpled piece of paper, he offered it to me with a shaking hand.

“You need to sit down Clavin.” Hoping I wasn’t making a huge mistake, I left the porch, grabbed the note and then his arm to help him sit on the bottom step. He looked like he was about to throw up.

Skimming the page, I sat heavily next to Clavin.

Go to her. Apologize. Without her forgiveness, your other leg is next.

I looked up and met his watery gaze over the paper.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “At the hospital, they told me I walked right in front of the car,” he said softly. “They told me that I was lucky the car wasn’t going fast. Brian was there. He said he called my name as soon as I walked out the doors, but I didn’t even look at him. I don’t remember any of it.” He looked down at his hands and I saw a tear fall onto his sleeve. “At school, the rumor is that you can see the future.” I flinched a little hearing it for myself. “Do you know what’s going on?”

My stomach flipped with relief. For a moment, I’d thought he would accuse me of controlling the thing, or maybe even him, and causing his accident.

“I wish I did know,” I whispered looking toward the trees to give him a minute to wipe his face. Born knowing I was different, and having a weird family history, made it marginally easier to deal with this new information. Poor Clavin had to be going crazy with fear. “I forgive you Clavin. Whether an accident or a malicious plan, I forgive you.”