Resilient (14 page)

“Dad, please!” I press, “I need to know.”

“Just do it, Nick.” Mom says, walking in the living room. “Just do it here and, if it is true, we can say the hospital made a mistake. It’ll be easier to believe than the alternative.” 

Dad looks at her and shakes his head. “I’ll do it.” 

Mom is apprehensive and I get mixed feelings from her before I even get close to her. The more abilities I gain, the more complex it all gets. I give her a hug and thank her for her help.

This afternoon my Uncle Henry called from New York, and whatever he told my dad didn’t make him happy. I knew it was about me—his concerns were directly oriented on me constantly. After the call, though, he wouldn’t tell me what was going on. He said he needed more information and he didn’t want to talk about something that wasn’t conclusive. I didn’t understand what he meant, and feeling him trying to shield his emotions from me made me angry and sad. I had to leave the house for a while and be around someone that I couldn’t empathize with, so I called Adam.

Right now, all I care about is getting this cast off my leg and finding out if I’m healed. One more ability will make me stronger on the outside, but weaker on the inside. I don’t want to be bionic. I just want to be normal.

*                            *                              *

Dad is meticulously cutting through the fiberglass cast and loosens its hold on my leg. I’ve been sitting on the patio chair for a half an hour, counting the minutes, but it only makes time go slower. I thought it would be easier to get off, but it’s a little tricky. He’s being careful not to cut into my skin while carefully demolishing the cast around it.

When the last piece comes off, I stare at my leg. It’s not swollen and it’s not bruised. Dad doesn’t even bother shielding his emotions—anxiety runs from fear to pleasure. I don’t hesitate to get on my feet and, as soon I’m up, I know I’m healed. I tremble and Dad holds me steady. I immediately feel my eyes watering and tears fall down my cheeks. 

“Does it hurt?” Dad asks, his words full of hope. I can’t look at him when I answer. 

“No, my leg doesn’t hurt at all.” 

The reason I can’t seem to find balance has nothing to do with how my leg feels. I suppose I should be happy that it’s pain free, but deep inside of me the pain is unbearable. I hoped that I was wrong, that I would find my leg bruised, swollen, and aching. I hoped that the cast was holding it all together and shielding my hurt. What I find instead is a perfect leg, as if nothing ever happened to it. A total tibia fracture healed in forty-eight hours.

I look at my dad now, sitting on a chair, his face buried in his hands. I hear the door to the patio opening, I turn to look and Mom walks outside, her mouth slightly parted and her eyes widening as she stares at my leg. 

“Oh my,” Mom gasps, bringing her hand to her mouth. She walks up to me, bends down, and touches my leg. “This is amazing!” 

“Amazing?” Dad asks. “This isn’t a science project, Laura. This is our daughter.” 

“Yes, and all these abilities are a gift from God. Can’t you see it?”

I shake my head in disbelief. “A gift?” I cry out. “I don’t want any of it! This only makes me a freak!” 

Mom strokes my face, moving a lock of hair behind my ear. “Livia, honey, this doesn’t make you a freak.” She narrows her eyes at me. “It makes you resilient.” 

“I need to call Henry,” Dad says, walking into the house. 

Mom doesn’t take her eyes off me. “Don’t mind him—he’s just nervous. He’ll see that this is a good thing, as I hope you will.”

“How will I ever be able to be honest with people I care about, Mom? Let alone be in a relationship with someone. If they ever find out I’m like this, what will they think of me? I don’t want to spend my entire life hiding who I am, whatever I am.” I hide my face in my hands. Mom gently tilts my head up and cups my cheek.

“If your friends truly love you, they’ll love everything about you.” She embraces me in a tight hug. “I need to check on your dad.” She kisses my forehead and follows Dad inside. She mutters something else, but I’m no longer paying attention. 

A gift from God? It might seem that way, but it sure doesn’t feel that way to me. Not when I have to hide it from everyone.

When I was little and my empathic ability first surfaced, I thought it was a sign, it meant that I had to help others overcome their problems. I felt a strong connection to the people around me. It was like I knew them because I knew what they were feeling. I tried to help a lady once. She was a teacher in my school and she was going through a difficult time, because her emotions were too strong, too intense. I didn’t know why she felt that way, and I had a need to comfort her. I told her that her sorrows, fears, and anger would eventually fade away and that she should talk to someone. She looked at me like I was a monster. I still remember the shock on her face. After that, I realized that I had no business knowing what other people felt, and that was the first and last time I would try to help a stranger. 

When other abilities started surfacing more frequently, I began doing tons of research online. I never found anything that would remotely explain something like this. I’ve wondered if there are others like me, if maybe I belong someplace else other than Earth—and have to shake these ridiculous thoughts out of my head before I get carried away with them. 

Taking a look back to make sure my parents aren’t watching, I start walking towards the barn. It’s late in the evening, the clouds are covering most of the sky—rain is on its way. I can feel the breeze on my face, lifting my hair and drying my tears even as they fall from my eyes. I have no shoes on and I feel the soft green grass under my feet. I push the barn’s door open and I walk to Aphrodite’s stall. She immediately picks her head up and studies me. I pet her nose and she snorts.

I sit next to her, leaning against the wall. I watch Aphrodite; she has no idea that my little fall from her has turned my life upside down. She’s comfortable but she senses something isn’t right with me. I can hardly ever empathize with animals, unless their emotions are extreme. Normally, I only pick up faint traces of their inner state. When I’m sad, I find comfort in Bento’s simple, pure emotions. It seems that with Aphrodite, I can find the same comfort. I close my eyes and take a long, deep breath. It smells like rain and horse hair, and it’s soothing.

Why would Mom think my abilities are gifts from God? Why does Dad seem to think the opposite? Being able to heal fast is my fifth ability to develop. What will be next? Or will this be it? I need to find my biological parents—someone, somewhere has to know who they are and what I am. I can’t help but wonder if I was born different and they knew they had to get rid of me. It would explain why they left me at a church; they thought only God could have mercy on me. 

Despite all my curiosity about my family, I’ve never given much thought to why they didn’t want me. Many pieces to the puzzle are still missing. Why did they choose the Berwick couple to be my adopted parents? It can’t only be because the Berwicks had been trying to conceive for years. It can’t only be because they were rich and would give me a good life and a good education. There must be more than that. My parents had to have chosen them for a very specific reason, but what is it? 

I hear thunder, so I get up, pet Aphrodite reassuringly as I tell her goodnight, and then fasten the barn doors tightly so that she’ll be safe from the storm. I enter the house unnoticed. I go up to my room and I take a long shower. The water cascading down my face makes me feel better, stronger, like all of the stress from today is being washed away.

I’ve decided that finding my biological parents is my priority now. I’ll do anything, go anywhere, and even use my abilities if I have to. I’ll pay attention to the emotions around me. Maybe I’m being watched; maybe they’ve been following me all these years. Observing from a distance—why not? Maybe my biological parents have known where I am all along. They chose a family for me, after all. 

Or they could not care at all… 

After I shower, I walk downstairs to get something to eat and I find my parents at the kitchen table. They both stare at me as I walk in.

“Livia, I want to apologize for my behavior earlier.” Dad gets out of his chair and settles his hands on my shoulders. “I should’ve been happy that your leg was better—that you were free of pain.” He hugs me, but I don’t reciprocate.

“My leg is free of pain, Dad. That doesn’t mean I’m free of pain.” I feel my dad’s body ridding itself of every bit of hope he had of making me feel better. “You shouldn’t waste your time telling me things that you don’t really believe. Have you forgotten I know exactly what you feel?”

“Livia!” my mother cuts in sharply. “Your father is just trying to help. You don’t need to be callous!” 

“I’m sorry, but I’m just being honest.” I walk to the kitchen table and I sit down. I’m not even hungry anymore. “What did Uncle Henry say?”

Dad slowly returns to his seat, stiff and resigned. “Not much, but he didn’t seem surprised either. He said that we shouldn’t contact the hospital. We should just tell people you weren’t hurt as badly as we thought, that you didn’t really fracture your leg.”

“You know the hospital has an X ray and can prove they were right,” I say. 

“I don’t think people will question it,” Mom says, looking at Dad. “Let’s just keep the hospital out of this, and to whoever asks, we’ll just say what Henry told us to say.”

“Fine by me,” I sigh, but they’re still exchanging looks. I don’t need to empathize with them to know they are worried sick. “You both know what needs to be done,” I announce. “We need to find my biological parents.”

“We are working on it,” Mom tells me. “It’s not that simple.”

“Have you thought that maybe it’s someone you know? They chose you.”

“We have thought about everything,” Dad says. “It may take years, but we won’t ever give up. That I promise you.” 

I know he means it. I just don’t have years to wait. With not so much as a goodbye, I get up to retreat to my room, but Dad stops me. 

“Livia, at least allow me to take a blood sample from you. I could check it again and see if there are any changes in your DNA.”

“Dad, we’ve done this.”

“I just want to try.”

I give in. I let him get a new blood sample—it’s all about science with him, after all. At least Mom looks at my abilities as gifts from God. Dad just thinks I have a mutant gene.

I wake up in the morning to my phone beeping. It’s a text from Livia, telling me to meet her at the lake at one o’clock. I look at the time; it’s 11:30 already. I had a hard time falling asleep last night. When I wasn’t thinking about her, I was thinking about Stevens and Dad’s argument. I could very well look for this guy, talk to him myself and see what he wants to tell me. If he has any kind of proof at all, then some of what he said must be true. 

I manage to drag myself into the kitchen, where Dad is eating at the table, and I make to back out. I can’t even stand being around him right now; the fact that he lied to me pisses me off. Still, I go against my better instinct and walk in. I busy myself with digging around in the fridge for the milk.

“Adam?” Dad turns to look at me. “Your mom should be home soon. She’s bringing lunch from your grandma’s.”

“I won’t be home.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m meeting someone.” 

“Someone who?”

“A friend, and I’m late.” I shoot a cold look at him. “I’ll see you later.” 

I leave before he has the chance for any more questions. I run to the lake, breaking my minute-mile record time. It’s before one o’clock and the sun is just starting to break out from the clouds. When I reach the shore, I see Livia on the dock; she hasn’t noticed me here yet. She’s lying on her back, using a towel as a pillow. 

I approach quietly and I see that her eyes are closed. I lean down, my face hovering over hers. I gently blow on her eyelids, and they flutter open. 

To my surprise, she smiles. I was expecting a gasp or a scream. I take her smile as an invitation and ease down next to her, and she pulls herself up to a sitting position. The cast is gone. Her leg looks perfectly fine. The last time I saw it, the bruises were so bad, I thought they would stain her skin forever. 

“Your leg,” I blurt, perplexed. “It’s not even bruised.”

She glances at her leg,“Yeah, I know,” is all she says and I hear the pain in her voice.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not at all.” She says.

With my fingers I move her bangs off her forehead, as if I’m caressing her face, but I’m searching for the small cut my watch left on her skin yesterday. I’m sure it was on the right side, and now, it’s no longer there. It’s healed, just like her leg.

“Not even if you touch it?” I press.

“No.” She looks away, and I can tell that talking about it is making her uncomfortable. It makes me uncomfortable, too. Something is off, but I can’t bring myself to look deeper. It would only make me hope that she might be different like me, and I know it’s impossible. It’s just an empty wish from my childhood—that I would find someone who has the same secrets so there would be no secrets. 

I stand up. “Want to go swimming?” 

She nods and I take my clothes off. I wait for her to do the same, but she’s staring, in shock. “Oh come on, you’ve never seen a guy in underwear before?” 

She stands up and takes a step closer. She traces her hand down my chest and leans forward for a kiss that never touches my lips. In a blur of movement, I find myself falling into the water. I dive headfirst and swim my way back up for air, and she’s laughing out loud.

“Oh, you are so dead! If you don’t get yourself down here in two seconds, I’m coming for you!”

“If you come for me, then you’ll miss the show.” She slides her feet out of her shoes. She lets her hair down, and tosses her head so that every lock falls loose. Slowly she unzips her shorts, sliding them down her legs and kicking them off to the ground. I can’t hide the smile on my face. She knows she has my full attention now. 

She pulls her shirt off, revealing her one-piece swimming suit. My disappointment must show on my face, because she is laughing again. “Gotcha!” She jumps into the water. I wait for her to come back up.