“Cal, you’ve twisted everything around in your head until you don’t know what is real, and what is not. You know where Dare is. You know what is real. You’ve just got to think. You’ve got to face it.”
This hurts, and I hate it.
“I…can’t.” My words are limp, falling onto the bed, tumbling to the floor.
Finn stares at me, into my eyes, into my heart. It pierces me, it grabs me with both hands and doesn’t let go.
“Calla, you can. You’re not me, you’re you. And that’s ok. That’s who you need to be. Please, for the love of God, come back. Just come back.”
My eyes open because his words are confusing.
“Come back from where?”
I’m clearly here in the hospital with him, with my dead brother. I’m already here. He’s the one who’s not, because he’s dead. He’s not making any sense.
He sighs, a soft sound in a silent room.
“Come back from where you are. You’re needed here, Calla.”
“But I am here,” I say hesitantly, because Finn is already shaking his head.
“No,” he says. “You’re not, Calla.”
Clouds surround me and lift me up and carry me away from logic, from reason, from reality. I fight to keep my feet down, to keep from being lifted away, into the sky, across the ocean.
“How do I come back?” I ask, and my voice is like a child’s.
Finn stares at me, and his eyes are blue rocks, blank and shiny and bright.
“You focus. You do what you have to do. You think you have to be me, but you don’t. I’m fine where I am, Calla.”
“But you’re dead,” I almost whimper.
He grins, the crooked one that I love, the one I know like the back of my hand.
“Is that what I am? And if so, is that a bad thing? When you’re dead, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m ok, Cal. Come back. Just come back.”
“I can’t do it without you,” I say firmly, because that’s what I know in my heart.
Finn rolls his eyes. “Of course you can. You were always the strong one, Calla. You always were.”
“But I don’t know how to come back,” I tell him. “Even if I wanted to, I don’t know how. I’m too lost, Finn. I’m lost.”
Finn is unsympathetic though, and his voice is firm.
“Do you know what I always did when I was lost?” Finn asks, and he’s holding my hand again. I shake my head because I don’t, and so he tells me. “I re-trace my steps.”
“But…” my whisper trails off, and so I bolster myself. “But where do I start?”
Without Finn, I don’t know if I want to start at all.
He stares at me because he knows me, because he knows what I’m thinking better than anyone else.
“You start at the beginning, Calla. Choose a point of reference that you know is true, and start there. Don’t let anything get in your way, and don’t try to fool yourself, no matter how much pain you think the truth will cause. Do you understand?”
I do.
But I don’t want to.
“Reality is real,” he tells me sternly. “I’m not. You’ve been given a gift, Calla. Don’t waste it. You have to find your new reality without me.”
“But how can I do that when you’re my point of reference, Finn?” my voice fractures. “How can I decide what is real when you aren’t?”
My chest hurts and I can’t breathe, because every breath I take is one more step that I take further away from my brother.
“You just have to find a way,” he answers, and his words are cool and unflinching.
My tears are hot and I squeeze his hand because no matter what he says, I’m not letting go.
“I’m sorry, Calla.” Finn’s voice is small. His slim shoulders are hunched now and he’s angled away from me.
“Sorry for what?”
“I’m sorry for everything.”
The clouds clear for a minute, then surround me again.
“But it wasn’t your fault.”
“It wasn’t?” Finn sighs. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter anymore. Fault, cause, roots. None of that matters. All that matters is you. You have to face what is real.”
His hand starts to fade and he seems to slip into the air, away from me. I grab at him, but my fingers come up empty.