chapter II
I WAS UNDERWATER AGAIN. Dragged kicking and screaming. Soaked. Stuck deep. Everything hurt. My heart was frantic in my chest like it was lapping my ribcage and going for a new track record. My limbs were numb and cold. My hair tangled around my face. I couldn’t breathe.
And then it happened: it was like getting my back popped at the chiropractor; everything felt electric, like somebody flicked a switch. I burst to the surface, my arms and legs flailing in one spastic twitch, my fingers and toes tingling with nervous energy, my lungs gasping, grabbing for air by the shovelful.
My muscles contracted and I shot up to a sitting position, eyes wide and blinking, spending my first precious breath on a bloodcurdling shriek that could wake the dead—me. I could feel the memory of the speedy place, wherever I had been, being vigorously wiped away like a picture on a whiteboard. It quickly became blank like a vanishing dream.
Panic set in. Where is he?
There he was, kneeling. Well, more like he had been knocked over onto his butt from a kneeling position. He looked so shocked.
“Michael!”
He jumped up to his feet, confusion and disbelief flashing across his face. Then he collapsed to his knees again sobbing uncontrollably, his arms around my waist, his head in my lap. All I could hear were little snippets through his tears.
“I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!”
My own eyes dampened in response to him. For a long time all I could do was pet his shoulder and run my fingers through his hair.
Was this all just a dream?
Then She came to the forefront of my mind, loud and clear, with an emphatic “No.” And I understood. “Oh. Oh, my God.”
Michael was starting to regain his composure. His body was racking itself with those little jerky ticks that come after a massive sobbing fit. He rocked back on his knees, his eyes puffy and bloodshot, and looked at me. He should have looked like a train wreck. But he was a gorgeous sight to me, and I felt that resound deep within. Deep within both of us. “Hey, mister.”
He whispered my name. “Airel.”
We sat still as statues for a long moment, just staring at each other.
He took the lead. “There are… no words to begin to tell you how sorry I am…” His eyes said the rest, and there was the quietest, most desperate plea for forgiveness embedded within them.
I had to look down, away. How on earth do I begin to understand this? She gave me some ideas. Some of them were quite violent and vengeful.
“Michael…what happened?”
He took a moment to breathe, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. Something was different. Besides the obvious, I mean. Something was very different, and I couldn’t tell what it was. “You were dead.”
I took a moment to process. Like, what? That’s totally impossible.
He saw my skepticism. “I brought you back.”
“What?”
He issued a retraction immediately, as if he was about to be struck by lightning. “No! I mean, I carried you up here. And then I…”
“Ask him how long that took,” She said. I could tell my conscience was decidedly hostile to Michael—Michael, who had led me to the brink of death and then allowed his demon friend to push me over, quite literally. But I was of the opposite persuasion. I had forgiven him while I was drowning. Why would I take that back now, especially when, however impossible for anyone to understand, I had been given a second chance?
I found myself saying it. “How long was I… um…”
“Dead?”
“Uh. Yeah. Dead.”
“It was forever.”
I could practically hear She doing the facepalm thing and making barf noises. I rolled my eyes a little, but that was for She, not Michael, and I hoped he didn’t see me. I wasn’t quite sure just how it might look if She and I came to blows, but we were getting there quickly.
Lay off him, I thought, trying to silence her.
“Michael. How long was I dead?” The question echoed absurdly back at me. But that speedy place…that was so real. I was flying. Somewhere, somehow. I was in between that and this; nothing was real, and at the same time, everything was too real.
I was stuck right in between. A me sandwich.
I didn’t know what to do or think. My eyes filled with tears and the flood started.
Michael simply held me for what felt like hours, and I let him. I had far too many questions to even begin to articulate them. I was outraged. I wanted to shout at him, strike his face, curse at him and ask him why he let the Brotherhood kill me, for crying out loud. I wanted to ask him over and over again why, why, why. But all I could do was sob in his arms.
I felt pathetic and used up, unstable.
I started to shiver. I was still soaked to the bone, and I realized as my sanity came back around for a little visit that there were some practical concerns needing my immediate attention. Like the crazy idea that, however this had happened and whatever explanation there was for it, I might completely ruin my resurrection by succumbing to hypothermia.
“You need to get out of those clothes, lady,” Michael said, my shivers racking even his body.
“Y-you better w-watch it, mis-s-ster. You can’t talk like that to me. It’s-s indecent.”
For the first time, a smile dawned on his face. “You’re beautiful,” he said, “And it’s good to have you back.”
His smile was glorious and new, even if it was mingling with the tears streaming down his face. It lit something in me that warmed me to my toes.
“What I mean is,” he said, correcting his former indiscretion, “you’ve got work to do.”
“Like w-what?”
He looked at me funny. “How do I say this? You smell like lake trout. And death.”
“Oh.”
“You need a nice hot bath. And dry clothes.”
I blushed. It felt good, but it too was just slightly off kilter.
“I’ll leave you to it?”
I nodded.
He stood and I feared something again for the first time. I feared being alone. He turned to go, walking for the door and the long hall in the impossibly enormous house.
“But don’t go too far!” I shouted.
He gave me a confused look. “I won’t. I need to go find Kim, though.”
“Okay.”
“K. Be safe. No more drowning.”
This time I let him see me roll my eyes. “Hey. You too.” I gave him a little “I’ve got my eye on you” gesture and then he left.
I was alone.