Kimber (18 page)

I
text Amber telling her I need to meet up, apologize and reorganize my brain.
Forty minutes later I’m outside Amber’s house beeping the horn.

 Like
me, Amber comes from a broken home. The only difference is that she was raised
by  her father. Her mom walked out on her when she was little, favoring her
pill addiction over her family. Amber’s dad, Edward Dawson, or Mr. Dawson as I
call him, is what I expected my father would have been like. Respectable,
reasonable and wrapped around his daughters little finger. He’d never have to
worry about Amber though. She’s as smart as she is blond. Her personality is
the kind that lights up dark rooms.

Amber
comes out of the house in a military green romper with a chunky brown belt and nude
wedge sandals. Always fashionable. Compared to my, I’m confused but it’s
complicated
,
look. Tattered jean shorts and purple Rocky Mountain tee my
mother got me from North Carolina. At least I feel as horrible as I look.

We
drive downtown to Dills. It’s a simple little hole in the wall lunch spot. They
have the best broccoli and cheese soup served in a sour dough bread bowl. We
grab a table outside on the sidewalk.

“Ok,
so I’m so very, very, very sorry I took off and left Miami.”

“Why
did you just take off?”

“Luke
and I had a fight.” Amber eyes me. “Ok, a big, nasty, word calling, fight. And
I might have slapped him.”

Her
eyebrows rise in disbelief before she retains her composer. “You ditched me.”

“Then
I ran into someone.” 

“Leo?”

“Yeah.”

“The
guy you can’t remember?”

“Yes.
The problem is, he’s all over the place. Hot, cold. Up, down. And hey, how come
you remember him and I don’t?”

“Luke
was talking about it. All Leo this and Leo that, the whole way back. The name
finally triggered something and
boom
!”

“Why
can’t that happen for me?”

“I
don’t know, but it’s weird. Like everything about him was erased.”

“Exactly!
Anyway, there’s something about him, I think…I know I still care about him. But
he’s all, misleading. It’s like he can’t get far enough away while leaving a
bread trail behind him. Ya know?”

“Kimber,
I am no expert when it comes to men. I can’t make a relationship last three
weeks, you know that. Men are illusive. They’re the jack of all trades. You
deserve someone who’ll want to follow your bread trail. What I remember of Leo
is he’s a good guy but he’s not an open book.”

“See,
that’s why I love you. Only you can manipulate dated clichéd metaphors in such
fabulousness.”

Amber
and I finish lunch and follow it up by strolling around downtown, going in and
out of shops. By day’s end I feel like me again. I grasp it for all it’s worth
because by the end of what’s to come I might not know who I am.                               

                                                                 
                                                                           By
Wednesday evening, I’m standing in line at the airport waiting to go through
security. The ticket in my hand says it’s round trip to New York. I can’t sit
around expected to accept the lack of sensibility and unable to receive answers
I’m deserved. If disappearing is Leo’s only solution then Lena is my backup.

 On
Thursday morning, I’m on a bus headed to the Adirondacks. The six hours and
four stops seemed worth it. There’s no way I could have driven myself up the
mountain. Not without freaking out and getting myself killed.

The
sight of the mental facility is one of pleasure as my taxi pulls in front. I’m
exhausted and linger with the smell of shady bus stops.

Signing
in is the same as before although the person behind the reception desk is
different. He’s of medium height and I suspect a few years older than I. His
complexion is fair and freckly. His fire engine red hair is slicked back. He
wears a hunter green Polo with the facility’s logo. His name tag says his name
is Neil. A small faint smear of eyeliner shows on his lower left eyelid. He
looks flamboyant. As he greets me it’s clear Neil like’s to hit the clubs,
mostly the one’s filled with single men. He comments on never seeing me before.
I brush it off. He goes on to tell me how Lena is one of his favorite people. I
smile. Overall I like Neil. He’s out going and not pushy or judgmental like
Yolanda. He hands me a visitor’s pass and tells me to look for Lena in the
garden.  

 
I take the back door Lena and I had used before during my last visit. I walk
out into the vast open garden. I stand for a moment looking for her. I’d
forgotten how big the garden is. I look by the gazebos and benches but see no
sign of Lena. Before long, I’m wondering if I’ve wondered too far.

“Kimber!”
I hear Lena call from my left.

I
turn to see her sitting with someone beneath a large tree. I hadn’t warned Lena
of my impromptu visit. I figured she’d either
see
it or be off guard. I
was hoping for the latter. Now I feel silly. Here she is with a friend or
perhaps someone she’s mentoring and I’m intruding.   

Lena
gestures for me to join her. I walk over to where she sits on a red and white
checkered picnic blanket. Great, not only am I interrupting but I’m crashing
lunch too.

“I’m
sorry. I should have told you I was coming.” I say to Lena as I look down to
the man with his back to me. It’s Leo! What’s he doing here with Lena?

“Hungry?”
Lena asks casually. Can she not see my bewilderment? “Come sit.”

“I
can come back.”

I
interpret Leo’s disregard of my presence as discontent. He thought he was safe
here, I bet.

“Nonsense.
You’re my niece. Sit.” Lena orders pointing to the empty space next to her.

I
use her words to empower me. I am her niece. I’m more to her than Leo is. I
have a right to be here. Lena passes us each a turkey sandwich wrapped in a
plastic bag. 

“This
is nice isn’t it? The three of us here together. It’s long overdue if you ask
me.”

 I
look from Lena to Leo. I smile, if only for her benefit. I’d say it’s more
awkward than nice.

 Leo
doesn’t touch the sandwich given to him. Instead he pulls out his phone, looks
around, does pretty much whatever he can to ignore me. But he doesn’t leave.

“So
Kimber, Leo and I were just discussing who we thought was a more intricate
artist, M.C. Escher or Alfred Alexander Gockel?”

I
don’t have a clue who either is. I can’t believe this is what they sit around
discussing. I feel uncultured and like the odd man out.

“I…um…don’t
know.” I play with my sandwich.

“That’s
ok. Let’s talk about something else. Leo, what’s new with you?”

“As
much as I’d like to stay and chat, there’s somewhere else I need to be.” He
declares sarcastically.

“By
that you mean anywhere I’m not.” I say standing the same time he does. He can’t
just keep walking out on me. I’m done with this cat and mouse game.

“Quite
possibly.”

“What’s
your deal? If you can’t handle being around me, why’d you come back?” I snap.

“I
didn’t come back to be around you.” He fires back.

“No
you didn’t. You came back to beat the hell out of a friend.” His jaw clinches.
I’ve hit a soft spot. “And you know what else, I think you poisoned me and my
friends.”

“What!”
He takes on a defensive stance. His eyes narrow. “I can’t—”

“Be
open, be nice, be human.” I finish for him.

 “Ok
you two. Let’s take a step back. Leo.” Lena says calling for his attention.
“Kimber’s perceptive. We can’t lie to her.”

“She’s
only perceptive because she’s had you and Luke chatter boxing in her ear. You
know what this means. I won’t be the hand that drags her in.”

“Wake
up! She’s already in it. If you don’t intend to let her go, which we both know
you don’t, then undo the blindfold.”

Leo’s
expression becomes somber as he looks at me. I’m not sure what I’ve unknowingly
been dragged into but I am sure the way out has long been passed. I’m positive
now that Lena saw me coming. I suspect it’s why we’re so far out into the
garden.

“There’s
only one way now.” Warmly Lena pats Leo’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
She turns back and winks at me.

It’s
awkward, being alone with Leo. There’s enough room to run but there’s nowhere
else I’d rather be. Every kind of wrong feels right with him. The more I’m
around him the less every worry I have seems to matter. Like he’s my own
personal happy pill.
It’s dangerous
, says my brain but the rest of me
could care less. When it all boils down, what do I have left to lose?

As
if to symbolize the weight of his situation, Leo leans against the massive tree
above us. Like he can’t stand on his own. I hate how much black he’s wearing.
It does nothing for his amazing eyes. Black sneakers, shorts, and a black and
green graphic tee shirt. It reminds me of death. I keep waiting for him to
speak. To do something so we’re not just standing here.

He
crosses his arms against his chest. “I didn’t poison anyone.”

“Then
explain it.”

“I
took it. I can give it back, to you, like I did the others.”

Is
he
serious
right now? Thank God we’re at a mental facility. I wonder if they
have a spare straitjacket?

“Leo,
people can’t swipe other people’s memories.”

“No,
people
can’t.”

“Ok,
enough. You keep doing this. For one second can you not be complicated? And
stop acting like I should just know every little thing you say.”

“Have
you ever heard the word, Nephilim?” It sounds familiar but I can’t place how I
know it or where from. “You should, Marie used to tell you bed time stories
about them.”

Annoyed
I shake my head. “She tell you that?”

“No,
you did awhile ago. The Nephilim are their own race. They’re the offspring of Watchers.”

“Mind
elaborating?” I say gesturing with my hand for him to spill it.

“In
Heaven, there are ranks for every Angle, like in the military. Watchers are
lower ranked Angels ordered to watch over humanity. It’s a long story that a
thousand people could tell a thousand different ways. The main point that
everyone can agree on is that the Watchers fell from Heaven, tainted by the
corruption of Mastema, an Angel turned bad guy. So they fell, thus giving them
the form of man. They took women as they pleased and bred a new race, Nephilim.
After that the story gets fuzzy but Mastema, who tempted man to sin, eventually
battled against God and lost. After that the stories go every which way.”

“Ok,
so Nephilims were the children of women created by Watchers, who are really
Angels that fell.”

“Yes.
When the Watchers fell, they became Demigods among man. They created thousands
of Nephilim. Most killed each other off. Others hid. Those who joined Mastema
were marked as damned.” 

“So
where does this Bible lesson leave me?”

“The
Nephilims that hid realized Mastema could return with the other Nephilims. For
that reason they colonized and over the centuries they kept their bloodline
pure. They became the new Watcher of man. When Nephilims started mainstreaming,
things got a little reckless. Bloodlines were diluted. It’s not uncommon for
people to have a diluted trace of Neph blood.”

“So
you’re saying that anyone could be a descendent of a Nephilim, even me?”

“Not
could be, are. You, Lena, your mother. It’s what enables Lena to see what she
does. The reason Marie could sense deception.” He doesn’t mention anything
special about me.

“How
can you know that?”

“There
used to be a test. Back in the day, when a couple wanted to get married they
had to submit to a blood test. Nephilims were behind it with the motive to find
the strongest bloodlines. If that person wasn’t already part of their colony or
council they’d be tracked.”

“So
I guess by you knowing all this, you’re a descendent of a Nephilim?”

“I’m
a little more complicated than that. My family’s line traces back to the
beginning. We’re amongst the purist. Hence the reason why I wouldn’t have to
poison you to swipe your memory.” He pushes away from the tree and steps
towards me. “Being close to me, it has to be a risk you’re willing to take.
Once you know their secret they’ll want you.”

“Who?”
I ask but he doesn’t speak.

He
reaches his hand out to caress my hair but as his hand touches my face I’m hit
with a piercing pain. It’s crippling. Like things in my brain are being
rearranged. Leo supports my weight as my legs weaken and fail. Once the pain
subsides pictures form in my mind. They’re of Leo. They flash faster than I can
process. By the end they’re all there. From our first encounter to our last. I
can even remember my mother’s bedtimes stories of special men who were loved by
God.