Beyond the Rising Tide (33 page)

It’s drizzling today, and I sit curled up on a bench at the end of the deserted pier, watching swollen waves through the railing. Sitting in the rain helps me think. It shuts out the rest of the world, and the white noise drowns out the loudest of my thoughts and helps me focus on the quiet ones that are harder to hear. Usually the quiet ones are the most important.

I’ve been replaying the moments I spent with Kai, searching for clues as I see my memories in a new light. From the first time I saw him on the beach when he lent me his pocketknife to the moment he disappeared in my arms. I’ve read through his book of lyrics at least a dozen times, and I practically have all his lyrics memorized. And although I’ve slowly come to the conclusion that Kai and everything that happened with him was real, the biggest questions,
how
and
why
, remain unanswered.

Everywhere I go, I see him. At the chocolate shop, at Mom’s condo, on the beach, the pier, even in my car. I see the things he did, hear the words he said. Things that didn’t make sense before make sense now. Like his reluctance to talk about himself. Or his efforts to get me back with Tyler. His parting words the first night we had dinner,
no regrets
, that at the time seemed so random. His abandoning a music career despite his incredible talent.

His still heart, when I hugged him close on the beach that day.

With numbered sunsets and bated breath
, he sang to me at Tyler’s party.
I’ll swallow her tears; mend the unjust.

And I heard him sing in the vineyard,
Forbid heaven to alter … for her, I would die but not falter.

What about the words I overheard the night we found Mom unconscious?
I’m here to help Avery,
he said,
just for a little while.

Slowly, all the pieces fall together like scattered stars moving into alignment. He knew me. Really knew me. He knew I was hurting, knew what I needed to be healed. To know that, he must have been watching me all along, ever since his death. He must have seen how his death affected me. And somehow, he found a way to return for a time to help me.

I’m suddenly filled with a love so immense I can’t contain it. It grows and swells until it’s ripping me apart from the inside out. Tears spill down my cheeks, mingling with the warm rain. I dip my head into my arms and let them come freely.

I wonder, if he saw me before, does that mean he can see me now? I go perfectly still, trying to sense any kind of presence around me. But other than the rain tapping on my head and arms, I feel nothing. I don’t know how he was able to see me before, or how he was able to come back in the flesh for those few days. From some of the things he said and did, I get the sense he wasn’t supposed to be here at all, that he broke some rule to come and help me. That his presence here was an anomaly, and he’ll never be back again.

And then I do sense a presence. But when I turn around to see who it is, it’s not Kai. It’s Mom. She’s huddled in her raincoat, her hair soaking up the rain and getting curlier by the second.

“Your dad said I could find you out here,” she says, looking around and taking in our surroundings. She sits on the wet bench beside me. “I can appreciate the romantic setting, but what exactly are you doing out here, sitting alone in the rain?”

I shrug, sniffling a bit. “Just thinking. Trying to figure things out.”

“What a great place for thinking.” She says this with sincere enthusiasm, then closes her eyes and lifts her face to the sky, smiling as raindrops fall on her cheeks, forehead, and eyelids. It’s good to see her back to herself. “So,” she says, wiping the rain off her face and looking at me, blinking rapidly to keep the rain out of her eyes. “Let’s figure things out together.”

I’ve spent my whole life watching Mom trying to figure things out, so her offer doesn’t give me much hope. She must know what I’m thinking, because her smile fades and she turns to watch the rain-pocked waves for a while. I watch too, not really knowing what to say.

Finally, she says, “I’m sorry for what happened last month.
So
sorry.”

This is the first time either of us have brought it up. I’ve wanted to talk to her about it, but also wanted to wait until she was ready. That, and finding her lifeless body on her bedroom floor is one more thing I haven’t quite processed yet.

“I know,” I say.

She shakes her head slowly, then brings a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the rain. “I didn’t intend for that to happen. You know, to end up in the hospital. To …”

“To almost die?” I finish for her.

She looks at me, eyes tormented. “I was just … hurting.
So
much. I took an extra pill. But it wasn’t quite enough, so I took one more. And had a glass of wine. Or two. I don’t remember. But the next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital.” Her hand falls on my knee. “You must be so angry with me.”

I can’t be angry with her. Because there’s not much difference between what I did—lying in the cold waves and subjecting myself to hypothermia—and what she did. We were both just trying to numb our pain.

“I love you, Mom. No matter what. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m glad you’re still here with us.”

She smiles sadly and wraps an arm around my shoulder, giving me a side hug and a kiss on the cheek. She lets out a sigh of relief, of finishing a difficult task. We go back to squinting at the waves through the rain, and then she says, “Life is precious, isn’t it? It’s sad that sometimes you have to almost lose it to realize that.”

I think about Kai, how precious his life was. And how my life was so precious to him that he gave his up for it. My throat starts burning, and new tears prick my eyes. I glance over to the place where he stood beside me on this pier, where I felt his warm fingers brush my cheek, and heard him say,
Have you ever thought that maybe he doesn’t regret what he did? That saving you was the crowning moment of his life?

I bite down hard on my lip, but it doesn’t stop me from bursting into tears. Mom pulls me into her arms, rubbing my back as I clutch her and sob into her neck. In all my reckless adventures, I’ve been injured countless times. Cuts, scrapes, bruises, sprains, broken bones. Some injuries take longer to recover from than others. But I don’t think I’m ever going to recover from this.

“I’m so sorry, Avery.”

She thinks this is about her. Maybe it is, a little. I don’t try to correct her, because there’s no way I can tell her what this is really about. So I just cry, and cry, and cry, putting the rain clouds to shame.

Finally Mom pulls back so she can look in my eyes. I take a stuttering breath, trying to calm myself.

“I want to live, Avery,” Mom says. “I mean,
really
live.” She looks at me as though she’s about to offer a challenge. “But I can’t do it alone. Help me? Embrace life with me?”

I recall all the times Kai pleaded with me to live my life to its fullest.
He gave his life so you could live
, he said to me on this very pier.
So live
.

That’s all Kai wants from me in return. So I take Mom’s hand and weave my fingers through hers. “Okay,” I say. “I will.” For my mom, for me, but most of all, for Kai.

here’s no way to measure time in Demoror. No day or night, just a fixed sky full of stars that shine so brightly it’s like a thousand small suns scattered across the sky. So I don’t know how long I’ve been wandering the shores of Demoror. All I know is I’ve never seen so much of it. Like Earth, it’s beautiful. Just in a different way. Where Earth is distorted and gritty and broken like a rock band, Demoror is flawless and smooth and clean like a symphony. The sand under my bare feet is fine and pure, no broken shells or fragments of trash like on Earth.

Up ahead, a man emerges from the silver lake. He looks disoriented, like most people do when passing from the living world for the first time. A handful of people are gathered on the shore to greet him, and he wades out of the lake into their welcoming embrace. It hurts to see, so I hurry past, tuning out their laughter and rejoicing. It makes me ache for my mom. Even now, no one can tell me where she is. So most of the time, I try not to think about her.

Since I was brought back here, I’ve seen countless people come and go through the silver lake of Demoror. Mostly people who’ve just died. Some head straight to the towering cliffs of Elysium, and some slink off to the Briar across the lake because for whatever reason, they’re most comfortable in the dark. Others hang around the shore, waiting for something. Waiting to go back to Earth while their body is healed, or waiting to receive an assignment, or waiting until they feel ready to move on to Elysium.

When I first died, I never used Demoror as my waiting place. Because every time I was here, I felt restless and out of place, as though I’d stepped into a fine restaurant wearing board shorts. So I spent all of my time between assignments with Avery. She was my home base, my Demoror. I was her silent companion. Her invisible friend. The one she talked to when she thought she was talking to only herself. The one who talked to her even when she couldn’t hear me. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone.

Now I’m alone again, but I can no longer find comfort in her company. Maybe I shouldn’t have done what I did. Maybe I made things worse for her. If I’d given her time, she probably would’ve healed on her own. She would have found happiness again. Instead, I gave her one more wound to heal from. And now I’m stuck here, with no connection to Earth, no access to the people I love. I can’t even glimpse them through the silver lake.

So I keep strolling, not knowing what else to do while I wait for Avery and Helen and Jane for the next few decades. I watch the stirrings of the water as I go, the endless procession of comings and goings reminding me of a wooden plaque that hung in one of my foster family’s living room that read in cutesy hand-painted lettering,
Life never ends. It just moves from one place to the next
. At the time I thought it was absurd. But who knew a stupid little plaque could hold so much truth?

And the truth is that in their own time, Avery and my sisters will move to where I am. The thought should bring me comfort, but for some reason it makes me feel like someone is twisting a knife in my heart.

The lake begins to curve after a while, and the fringes of the Briar slowly rise on the horizon like a storm cloud. I pause and look back the way I came, realizing how far I’ve traveled. When I began walking, I was near the cliffs of Elysium. Now from where I stand, their majestic height rises far above the gentle hills and crystal trees across the lake. I can just make out the shimmering, iridescent waterfall that souls pass through to enter Elysium. The one Charles always tries and fails to convince me to enter. The distance makes me feel a bit uneasy. But I can always quicken back in an instant if I want to.

Only, when I consider it, I find I have no desire to. All I feel like doing right now is moving farther away. Away from other people. Away from light. Away from anything that might require me to let go of the things I’m trying so hard to hold on to.

I look back at the Briar, feeling a strange sort of beckoning. Maybe it’s curiosity. Or maybe it’s the despair inside of me knowing it will feel more at home there than in Elysium. Whatever it is, I surrender to the pull and keep walking toward the Briar.

As I get closer, the land gets more barren. The grass grows more patchy and blanched, and I’m surprised to see rugged rocks jutting out of the sand. It’s more Earth-like on this side of the lake. It’s also colder, like late autumn in the Upper Peninsula.

I keep moving, and soon the sand turns hard and sharp, broken rocks littering the ground like shattered dishes. They jab the soles of my bare feet, and I welcome the pain. It’s feeling
something
. Like being alive again.

I feel a particularly sharp pain, so I pause and lift the sole of my foot for a look. I’m surprised to see several cuts marking the bottom of my foot. Strange. There’s no blood, of course. Not even the clear liquid of a materialized body. I shrug it off and continue. But it occurs to me that maybe the soul is made of some type of matter, only too fine for mortal eyes to see.