Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 44.1: October 7th, 2011
This is an untitled, unfinished novel that was technically left alone in late 2008. However, the last time it was modified and checked for errors was 2011, where upon I decided that the absurdity of the plot combined with the sloppy British research was too much for the story to continue.
However, seeing as this is Whims of the Time Traveler, it's a perfect example of my first attempt at long fiction, so I've decided to unabashedly display it.
Have fun.
Untitled: Chapter Four
by Belinda Roddie
If you asked about me to people who met me over the years that I spent in Reading, they would say that, back then, Joan Engel was a completely and totally average girl. Those who would befriend me would later change their minds, saying that I wasn’t totally average, but special in a positive way. Cheerful, they said, bright, and terribly outgoing.
That was who Joan Engel was. Over the summer of my first year living in Reading, I worked hard in order to adapt to my surroundings. I learned to laugh again with the help of Alfred and his friend, Harold Heatherton, who would pick me up and swing me around as we walked through Purley. I learned to talk casually again with Sam, the wiry eighteen-year-old waiter who would offer me a free glass of milk every day when we came in for dinner. Alfred even bought me a kite, which I would fly over one of the valleys until the sun dipped low in the sky. Through it all, I learned everything I needed to know about living in Purley. I learned to live in the world I had been placed in.
It was also at the end of that particular summer that Alfred began to answer a lot of questions for me, like how I was born and raised in London and had an overwhelming fascination in practically everything in the world. He told me, every time he visited me, I would be rather shy, as if he were an intimidating man, but I would get used to sitting on his lap. I giggled at that; I was shy when I saw him in the hospital, too. I could also relate to the part of me wanting to know everything; it was even happening now.
However, he told me things got pretty rocky when it came to being able to see me. For one thing, he told me that he hadn’t had contact with my parents for years after their ties were severed, and every photo he had of me since I was a little girl had been thrown into the fire by my father during a horrible argument. My parents, apparently, were not the happiest, having several marital problems that they would hide whenever I was around. Alfred later added that he had just barely come in time to see me carried off to the hospital, and the authorities would not let him sit in the ambulance with me.
“They said they couldn’t trust me even when I told them I was your grandfather,” he grumbled one day in the pub, as I picked at my shepherd’s pie. I heard Sam snicker. “You can laugh all you want, lad, but that’s what they said. Rubbish. Sometimes I still wonder why they wouldn’t let me ride with you. I saw the whole thing, after all.”
“How did it happen?” I asked.
“Car accident,” Alfred said, swallowing a mouthful of hot tea. “Knowing your dad, he probably sent you off in a cab by yourself over here. There are bad people driving on the road all the time. And I wish I could have set him straight, tell him how I felt. Can’t now.”
“You wouldn’t,” I answered, a bit heinously for my age. “He’s my daddy.”
“Was your daddy, probably,” replied Sam. “Why else d’you think he hasn’t come back for you? Or your mum?”
A long silence emerged among the three of us. Alfred was coldly staring at Sam, as if warning him not to go on, but Sam didn’t notice. I put down my fork.
“I don’t know. What do you think?” I asked.
“Well, I’d hate to say they forgot about you,” Sam said, “but judging from the fact that the investigators couldn’t find your parents, they probably died from heartbreak. Or despair.”
“Or they just disappeared, maybe,” snapped Alfred. “Don’t be so tactless, Sam.”
“Sorry, sir,” said Sam. Then he looked at the shocked expression on my face, turned red, and went off to the loo. Alfred took my hand, squeezing it like he normally did when he was affectionate.
“When I said your parents had problems…well…I meant it.” At this point, I could see his eyes lowering and his voice becoming soft and stony. “I can only guess that’s why they sent you over to Reading, so I could take care of you…and I haven’t heard from them since. They must have run off somewhere. Who knows, they could have…well…”
“And you can’t find them at all?” I asked, my voice strained and thin.
“Nope. The police can’t find them. Can’t contact them, either. I hadn’t seen them or you for years, and this is the way it turned out. I never tried to fix things…I am so sorry…”
Then he took me in his arms and held me tightly. And, taking every word like sweets, I hugged him back and cried.
For five years, he told me every detail of what he remembered about me, from days in the gardens to stories he’d tell me before my parents and I would head back to our home in London. And I believed every single word, regardless of the chance that it could be fabricated, like a young Christian would believe the almighty word of God.
***
By the time school started in the fall, I was eligible to be put in one of the secondary schools. Alfred decided on Leighton Park School, a boarding school that was close to Reading, so it was an okay distance in case I had an emergency and needed to head home. He first seriously considered home schooling me, but I was adamant to go to a school with other boys and girls. That way, I could figure out what I already knew and what I could learn.
Surprisingly, I made a lot of friends very quickly. I was shy at first, but they would walk over to me during mealtimes, complimenting me on my skinniness, which I didn’t understand because I thought I almost looked anorexic, and also complimenting me on my smile. I would thank them, and as time went on I became increasingly more talkative. I also became known as a bookworm, although I wasn’t particularly bright in any other subjects apart from English. Writing and reading comprehension just came easily to me, and sometimes, when I opened a book, I would feel like I already had a faint idea of the story or the characters.
Four of the boys who had found me that summer attended the same school. Two of them, however, actually took enough time not only to know me, but also to become friends with me. They were a dark-haired, blue-eyed boy named Rupert Ainsworth and a very fat boy named Bryce Channing. Upon first seeing me, sitting on a nearby bench finishing my homework, Bryce came running over – as well as he could, anyway –fumbling over his words and saying that he recognized me. Rupert was beside him in a flash, jabbing Bryce, hard, in his fleshy stomach with his elbow. Bryce fell silent after that, and Rupert introduced himself, Bryce, and the other two boys, a redhead named Zachary and a lanky boy named Ivan. After that, Bryce would attempt to tease me in a “friendly” way from time to time, calling me the usual names a boy would use on a girl, but I ignored him.
I found Rupert to be much better company, and soon I forgot all about Bryce and his sudden outburst that day. While my girlfriends would tease me about cooties and romance, I would enjoy taking a little bit of time talking to Rupert or watching him play cricket in the yard with the other boys. Ivan told me a little about the rules, so I was able to watch, understand, and enjoy the sport.
And I was happy, whether I was in school or back home with my grandfather. I took up punting when I was twelve, and I would work my way up the river while Alfred either walked or fished with Harold. After learning how to manage a boat, I became strangely drawn to the water. As the days progressed, I would find myself sitting on the bank, skipping stones or watching, with a smile, Rupert mess around with Bryce, Ivan, Zachary, and around six other boys. Rupert and Bryce were the eldest, and after their thirteen years of age, the years would go down from twelve to nine among the boys. They had moved from their games of marbles to tag to wrestling, but sometimes, Rupert would stop roughhousing for a little to come talk to me and ask me how I was.
Other times Luke, a boy who was four years my junior, would sit beside me, not saying a word. Only one time did he ask me a question, and it was if I was okay. I was confused, saying yes, I was fine, and he looked ready to ask something else when Bryce shouted something to him and beckoned him over. I watched as Luke, his eyes filled with unexpected terror, run back over to his friends. He didn’t speak to me after that for two more years, and I always wondered why.
Sometimes the boys would invite me to play a game with them, and most of the time I would agree. It became known that I was the third fastest runner of the group, just behind Ivan and Rupert. On the rare occasion that we played cricket, I was killer at hitting. And every evening, when Alfred would stop by to retrieve me, Rupert would give me a token of some sort, like a marble or a rock, to remember our time together.
It was a bit foolish, but we were kids. We were both at least seemingly innocent youth living normal lives in a small British suburb. Well, at least, Rupert was living a normal life. He had parents and the comfort of having the memories of his life kept safely in his mind. I didn’t; I had gotten used to swallowing whatever information my grandfather gave me.
Rupert also had lived a normal past. Turns out I hadn’t.
It was at the end of the summer, when I was thirteen, that the change in my subconscious began. For two years, I normally had dreamless sleep, and if I did dream, then I never remembered what it was the next morning. All of that was changing slowly as whatever pieces of the past that remained came out of their hiding places.
One August day, I went punting again, thoroughly enjoying the quiet of the morning. There weren’t a lot of motorboats or sculls zipping around in this particular area, so it was perfect for me to continue to better my skills. As I pushed against the riverbed, I watched the boys assemble again for another wrestling match before making my way from the shore.
It was a beautiful day as I glided across the water. I didn’t think much about anything; I just let my thoughts drift like the leaves or sticks in the river. The sound of the rushing water calmed me, relaxed me, and I let myself be lost in the day, snapping out of it only to push against the bed when I slowed down or accidentally bumped into one the banks. It was almost as if I were somewhere else entirely, lost in another place, another country, and I was on another river. Everything was so incredibly peaceful, something I had been working to achieve due to the horrid incidents in the hospital. However, even those events seemed so distant in my memory; nothing mattered now, just the river and the summer breeze. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t recall any past moments. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t remember anything even when it was told to me.
I must have lost track of time, and as I watched the sun rise above the houses nearby, I turned around again and headed back to where the boys were. As I drew nearer to them, however, the heat was taking its toll on me. I could feel a heavy weight on my forehead, the muscles in my arms relax, and a dull aching where I had received the blow to the head, however it had happened. After a while, I gave up on propelling the boat any further and laid the pole diagonally across it, letting the river carry me to shore.
In the distance, I could see Rupert doing his victory dance—he must have beaten Bryce in wrestling once again—as I drifted in the middle of the river. It was such a calm, perfect day, but it was making me sleepy. I felt my eyes grow heavier and heavier before I could barely keep them open, and I let the sounds of the river and the voices of the boys waft through my ears like the smell of fresh fish through one’s nostrils. Then, not really noticing what I was doing, I curled up into a ball, yawning, and fell asleep.
It was the river that must have triggered the memories to come back, for as I slept I dreamt that I was lying in a dark, cramped space. Even though it felt like my eyes were wide open, I couldn’t see anything except for flickers of light from what seemed like small cracks around me. Then I heard the river, louder than ever before, pounding in my ears, and the voices no longer belonged to Rupert, Bryce, or the others, but voices belonging to people I didn’t know, voices I didn’t recognize.
My first reaction, in this dream, was of confusion, and I attempted to lift my arm in order to reach toward the light. My arm didn’t move. I couldn’t work my hands, legs, or back, either. I felt pinned down by some heavy object, and my eyes, only my eyes, were only to move back and forth. But I still didn’t say anything.
The voices grew louder, but they were all shouting gibberish. It was all garbled and mixed up like the sounds you’d hear in a horror movie. It terrified me. Again I tried to move, more frantically this time, breathing in and out as hard and as fast as I could. But when I did that, the air seemed to grow thinner, and I became more scared as I felt the strange stiffness in my legs and arms.
Whatever I was in, it was floating in the river, and it wasn’t the punt boat, either. I twisted my body, I jerked, and I was beginning to hyperventilate…then suddenly it was as if my arms had been freed, and they shot up to meet the thin shafts of light. My fingers hit something hard, and I rubbed my hands against it. There was a ceiling just above my head. I moved my hands to the sides. I touched walls.
I was trapped, and I was suffocating. The air was growing even thinner, and I thrashed around, trying to escape. I screamed. Then my eyes snapped open, and I was free again, in the open air, as I tumbled out of the boat and into the water, still screaming.
Before I disappeared under the surface, I could hear the shouts of the boys fall silent. I could see nothing but brown all around me as I kicked against the water. Then I remembered something rather important.
Oh, God! I heard myself scream in my head, my heart racing. I couldn’t swim!
It took every ounce of strength to fight my way to the surface, but it was hopeless. The current was pulling me down, and because I was still so small, I couldn’t fight against it. I was able to scream, “Help! Help!” a few times before submerging again. I was going to die, I thought. I had no strength left. I was going to suffocate, just like in the dream...
In the next moment, I felt someone’s arms around me as I struggled in the water. I felt my head break the surface, and, gasping for breath, I saw that it was Rupert who was holding me and carrying me to shore.
The boys were all yelling at the same time. Things like, “Bloody Hell, she all right?” “She shouldn’t be in the river! She can’t swim!” “Where’s Alfred? Get Alfred!” and so on. As Rupert pulled me closer to shore, I noticed that Bryce was holding back laughter, and I felt an unnatural urge to crack him in the jaw.
They laid me on the grass and Rupert pumped his hands against my stomach several times. I could taste mud and filth in my mouth as I coughed out water and bile and spit. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ivan swimming toward my boat, and, as I forced myself to gulp air back into my lungs, I heard Harold shouting.
“Oy, boys, back up! Give her some room to breathe, won’t you!”
He was limping over to me, Alfred right behind him, both looking disheveled. They must have been finishing their walk when I fell asleep, so they were relatively close by once I had awoken from the nightmare. Alfred knelt down beside me, taking me in his arms and lifting me up.
“All of you go back to what you were doing. I’m taking Joan home,” he ordered.
“Let me come with you!” Rupert cried, leaping to his feet.
“No, boy, stay here.”
“But I want to help Joan—”
“I said stay here!” barked Alfred. Then, nodding to Harold, he proceeded to carry me back to the cottage.
Then, like the girl I was, I burst into tears.
***
Alfred wrapped me in a blanket and got me a cup of tea before anything else, and I nestled myself deep into the easy chair beside the fireplace. I was still crying quite a bit, and Alfred held me close, trying to comfort me.
“Oh, God, how could this happen? I told you, you shouldn’t go punting like that all the time. And the fact that you can’t swim…oh, God, I’m so sorry.”
“No,” I managed to choke out through my tears. “No, it’s not…”
“Yes, it is. It’s my fault. I should have been watching you, should’ve warned you. You could’ve drowned, and there I was, right there…”
“No, no, no,” I sobbed, my hands shaking. Hot tea spilled from the cup and burned my knuckles, but I didn’t feel it. “It’s not that. It’s not that at all.”
Alfred gazed at me, looking confused. “Then what is it?” he asked.
“I-I…” I struggled to speak, dabbing at my eyes impatiently. “I was in the boat, and the sun…it just…I just went to sleep, that’s all. I fell asleep in the boat. And then…”
“And then what?”
“I was…I was trapped…trapped in this thing, in this box, in the darkness.” I could feel my shoulders shaking. “I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t move! And there were people all around, but they weren’t helping me…I was screaming…”
“But it was a dream?”
“Yes, but it felt…it felt so real…”
I broke down again and felt Alfred’s arms around me, pulling me into a strong bear hug. He held me for a long time, letting me cry into his shoulder, and once I pulled away, I looked into his eyes. I couldn’t decide what sort of emotion was ignited in them: anger or fear.
“Darling, that sounds frightening. Frightening beyond words. It may explain why you won’t go into the lift when we go shopping. Some hidden fear of being trapped.” I laughed at that, a weak laugh; I always believed I didn’t like elevators because it seemed so awkward to be with a bunch of people in such a small space. “But a dream’s a dream, Joan. It’s not real. And scary as it may be, it doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen to you, okay?”
I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t argue with him; it was common sense that dreams normally didn’t predict anything. All I could do was nod.
“Good, I’m glad. Now you can forget about it.” Alfred held out a hand and helped me up. “Now, I think we should go get some supper with your great-uncle and aunt. Does that sound good to you?”
I smiled. Yes, they must have been waiting for us. I could already taste my great-uncle’s pie on my tongue. Supper was always a treat; although we didn’t go to their house every day anymore, they were more than happy to have us. My great-aunt Edna was actually eager to talk to me about school subjects, but my great-uncle Calvin was surprisingly quiet when I came to supper, talking to me only to ask how the food was. When I complimented him, he would smile and then resume his silent treatment.
I got into a dry set of clothes and followed Alfred out of the cottage. I decided that I would try to leave this dream behind me; like Alfred had said, it wasn’t important, and it wasn’t worth wasting time to find out what it could possibly signify in my life.
Turns out I couldn’t escape from it, at least, not tonight, anyway. Because when I returned home after dinner, I didn’t want to go to sleep again. I finally ended up drifting away into the realm of dreams a couple hours after I had gotten into bed.
***
I was back in the world of darkness, and this time, I could move more flexibly and less painfully. I felt my hands push against the top of whatever I was in, trying to push it open, when I noticed something different about my surroundings.
I was still floating on what felt like water, but I was somewhere else. Someone was screaming. Then I heard the motor. The person kept screaming as I fought to pry the lid open. All at once, my fingers erupted into pain and I pulled them back, sticking them in my mouth and sucking on them as if that would end the burning in my fingertips. After a moment, I went back to clawing, tearing at the ceiling with my fingers. The pain only increased.
Then came the smells. That resin smell. A rich, dark smell that could only mean my demise. And the person continued to scream. That was when I realized who was screaming. It was me.
I woke up in a cold sweat, biting the inside of my cheek to cut off the mangled noise erupting from my throat. It was still dark around me, and I felt my chest rise and fall…against a blanket. I was back in my room, in my bed, in the open air. I was safe.
But I wasn’t going to sleep again. I threw the covers off me and went toward the window; Alfred was snoring loudly in the opposite room. I heaved the window partway open and let the cool summer night air rush against my sweaty face. This was too much for me. Having the same dream twice in a relatively short amount of time was unbelievably strange…and scary. It made me want to sit up all night with a flashlight, just to make sure the walls weren’t only five inches away from me.
I closed my eyes for a moment, as if attempting to forget the dream. I couldn’t. For the first time since I could remember, I could still recall a dream in full detail, even without trying too hard. Maybe it was because I was growing and changing, but whatever the reason, despite what Alfred had advised me to do, I couldn’t take my mind off of it.
I opened my eyes again, just in time to stare right into two large blue orbs.
I shrieked and lost my balance, tumbling to the floor. As I lay there, shivering from fear, I heard a familiar voice.
“Joan! Can’t you bloody do anything without being so overdramatic?”
It was then that I recognized the voice. I got to my feet just in time to see a boy by the window, staring intently at me with big, blue eyes.
“Rupert! What’re you doing here?” I gasped, suddenly feeling naked even in my sleeping gown. “My granddad’s asleep! It’s two in the morning!”
“Well, he told me to bug off, but I couldn’t just leave you. You bloody nearly drowned, remember?” Rupert said. “Here, open the window all the way.”
“What? Why?”
“So I can come in, you ninny. C’mon.”
“I am not going to just let you crawl through my window!” I snapped, absolutely shocked—and a little flattered. But I didn’t show the flattered side of me and folded my arms across my chest. “Honestly, Rupert…”
“Look, just for five minutes, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.”
I looked at him suspiciously. Being thirteen, I was beginning to understand the hidden motives of boys. However, Rupert seemed incredibly sincere, and by now, I had perfected the talent of being able to tell whether or not he was acting.
“You promise you won’t…do anything stupid?” I asked, a cold tone in my voice.
Rupert snorted. “Honestly, Joan, what would I do to you?”
“And you’ll leave in five minutes?”
“I swear on my grandmother’s grave.”
I thought about it. I was still pretty scared about the dream, and in the end, I couldn’t see how it would hurt. Besides, Alfred was just in the other room. But I acted like a tough, defensive girl just the same.
“Oh, all right,” I said, with a hint of annoyance in my now authoritative voice. “But don’t make too much noise, my granddad’s in the other room.”
“I noticed,” Rupert muttered, as Alfred emitted another loud snore.
I opened the window just enough so Rupert could fit and directed him to sit right on the edge of the bed, and not any closer. He looked at me as if he thought I was worried about getting cooties on my sheets or pillows. However, I proved that such was not the case by sitting down next to him, looking at him with an inquisitive expression on my face. He noticed straightaway.
“What?” he asked, a little taken aback.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” I said. “Any particular reason you came out this early in the morning to see me? Or was it really to make sure I was okay?”
Rupert smiled. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, part of the reason was I was worried about you, but…I’m just restless. It’s getting close to school again, and…I don’t really wanna go.”
I felt my cheeks grow warm when Rupert reminded me of how he was concerned about me, but I tried to stay tough. I may have been one of those intelligent, giggly girls at times, but I always liked to act like one of the guys. “Why don’t you want to go?”
“I dunno, I just don’t,” Rupert replied, looking down at his hands. “I just…” he looked back at me. “We’re getting older so quickly, Joan. I mean, I’ve already known you for three years.”
“We’ve got plenty of time.”
“Not really,” objected Rupert. “Only another four years and I’m not supposed to play anymore. I’m not supposed to act stupid. Pretty soon me mum’s gonna be up in my groin about grades and me dad’s gonna want me to work in his business. I’m not gonna be a boy anymore, I’m gonna be a man.”
“Well, I suppose…I mean, being a man has its advantages,” I said, doing my best to add to the conversation without sounding too dramatic. Rupert was already too much for the both of us.
And he wasn’t done, either. “Maybe, maybe it does, but still…I mean, school’s okay, I guess, but it’s like I don’t want to grow up. I’m like Peter Pan, you know? I don’t want responsibilities, I don’t want to find out what I’m meant to be…I just like being me, playing by the river. Not anything else.”
I looked at Rupert intently. “Well, that’s…that’s very deep coming from someone who spends his time beating the tar out of a fat bloke during a wrestling match.”
Rupert laughed at first, but then he remembered where he was and quieted down. But he still said, smiling, “Yeah, I suppose that’s true.”
“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” I asked, sincerely. “I mean, if this is bothering you so much…”
“Nah, just wanted to get that off my chest,” Rupert said, stretching his back and yawning so that he vaguely resembled a large cat. “I mean, you’ve got loads to think of already, especially after what happened today…”
“Oh, yeah, that.” Remnants of the dream were coming back to me, but I mentally warded them off and turned back to Rupert. “Rupert, I…”
“Oh! That reminds me,” interrupted Rupert, as he rummaged through his pockets; he was still wearing a T-shirt and jeans. He pulled out something small and pressed it into my palm. “It’s for you. A little something for the day being…well, memorable, even in a bad way.”
I smiled faintly and looked down, expecting to see the familiar pebble or piece of bottle glass he would give me. It wasn’t; it was a broken necklace, the kind with cheap plastic beads on them that could still shimmer in the sunlight. I dropped it from one palm to the other, curiously inspecting it.
“I found it on the bank, about two seconds before you fell into the river,” Rupert was explaining. “And, well, I was gonna give it to you anyway despite what happened. It’s a girl thing, so I thought you’d like it.”
“It’s…it’s lovely, Rupert.” I let the strand curl up in my right hand and closed my fingers around the beads. “Rupert...”
“Yes?”
I heard another snore from Alfred. Leaping up, I snatched Rupert’s sleeve. “You better go. Granddad might wake up.”
Rupert looked a little crestfallen, but I could tell that he understood the situation. I led him to the window and watched as he clambered through it, dropping rather ungracefully onto the dirt.
Then I remembered what I had wanted to say before. “Wait, Rupert.”
He turned back around to look at me. I could swear that his eyes glowed in the moonlight.
“I…” I swallowed. “Thanks for saving my life today, Rupert. I owe you one.”
Rupert grinned. “Cool, I’m a hero.” Then he took off, calling, “Meet me tomorrow, by the river!”
“I dunno if I want to be so close to the river after what happened!” I called after him as he left.
“Relax, it’s not gonna attack you or anything. Come mess around!”
I didn’t say anything back. Obviously he wasn’t going to be able to understand, and I wasn’t going to tell him the exact truth anyway. I simply watched him leave before sitting back onto the bed, rubbing my temples.
I didn’t go to sleep for the rest of the night.
However, seeing as this is Whims of the Time Traveler, it's a perfect example of my first attempt at long fiction, so I've decided to unabashedly display it.
Have fun.
Untitled: Chapter Four
by Belinda Roddie
If you asked about me to people who met me over the years that I spent in Reading, they would say that, back then, Joan Engel was a completely and totally average girl. Those who would befriend me would later change their minds, saying that I wasn’t totally average, but special in a positive way. Cheerful, they said, bright, and terribly outgoing.
That was who Joan Engel was. Over the summer of my first year living in Reading, I worked hard in order to adapt to my surroundings. I learned to laugh again with the help of Alfred and his friend, Harold Heatherton, who would pick me up and swing me around as we walked through Purley. I learned to talk casually again with Sam, the wiry eighteen-year-old waiter who would offer me a free glass of milk every day when we came in for dinner. Alfred even bought me a kite, which I would fly over one of the valleys until the sun dipped low in the sky. Through it all, I learned everything I needed to know about living in Purley. I learned to live in the world I had been placed in.
It was also at the end of that particular summer that Alfred began to answer a lot of questions for me, like how I was born and raised in London and had an overwhelming fascination in practically everything in the world. He told me, every time he visited me, I would be rather shy, as if he were an intimidating man, but I would get used to sitting on his lap. I giggled at that; I was shy when I saw him in the hospital, too. I could also relate to the part of me wanting to know everything; it was even happening now.
However, he told me things got pretty rocky when it came to being able to see me. For one thing, he told me that he hadn’t had contact with my parents for years after their ties were severed, and every photo he had of me since I was a little girl had been thrown into the fire by my father during a horrible argument. My parents, apparently, were not the happiest, having several marital problems that they would hide whenever I was around. Alfred later added that he had just barely come in time to see me carried off to the hospital, and the authorities would not let him sit in the ambulance with me.
“They said they couldn’t trust me even when I told them I was your grandfather,” he grumbled one day in the pub, as I picked at my shepherd’s pie. I heard Sam snicker. “You can laugh all you want, lad, but that’s what they said. Rubbish. Sometimes I still wonder why they wouldn’t let me ride with you. I saw the whole thing, after all.”
“How did it happen?” I asked.
“Car accident,” Alfred said, swallowing a mouthful of hot tea. “Knowing your dad, he probably sent you off in a cab by yourself over here. There are bad people driving on the road all the time. And I wish I could have set him straight, tell him how I felt. Can’t now.”
“You wouldn’t,” I answered, a bit heinously for my age. “He’s my daddy.”
“Was your daddy, probably,” replied Sam. “Why else d’you think he hasn’t come back for you? Or your mum?”
A long silence emerged among the three of us. Alfred was coldly staring at Sam, as if warning him not to go on, but Sam didn’t notice. I put down my fork.
“I don’t know. What do you think?” I asked.
“Well, I’d hate to say they forgot about you,” Sam said, “but judging from the fact that the investigators couldn’t find your parents, they probably died from heartbreak. Or despair.”
“Or they just disappeared, maybe,” snapped Alfred. “Don’t be so tactless, Sam.”
“Sorry, sir,” said Sam. Then he looked at the shocked expression on my face, turned red, and went off to the loo. Alfred took my hand, squeezing it like he normally did when he was affectionate.
“When I said your parents had problems…well…I meant it.” At this point, I could see his eyes lowering and his voice becoming soft and stony. “I can only guess that’s why they sent you over to Reading, so I could take care of you…and I haven’t heard from them since. They must have run off somewhere. Who knows, they could have…well…”
“And you can’t find them at all?” I asked, my voice strained and thin.
“Nope. The police can’t find them. Can’t contact them, either. I hadn’t seen them or you for years, and this is the way it turned out. I never tried to fix things…I am so sorry…”
Then he took me in his arms and held me tightly. And, taking every word like sweets, I hugged him back and cried.
For five years, he told me every detail of what he remembered about me, from days in the gardens to stories he’d tell me before my parents and I would head back to our home in London. And I believed every single word, regardless of the chance that it could be fabricated, like a young Christian would believe the almighty word of God.
***
By the time school started in the fall, I was eligible to be put in one of the secondary schools. Alfred decided on Leighton Park School, a boarding school that was close to Reading, so it was an okay distance in case I had an emergency and needed to head home. He first seriously considered home schooling me, but I was adamant to go to a school with other boys and girls. That way, I could figure out what I already knew and what I could learn.
Surprisingly, I made a lot of friends very quickly. I was shy at first, but they would walk over to me during mealtimes, complimenting me on my skinniness, which I didn’t understand because I thought I almost looked anorexic, and also complimenting me on my smile. I would thank them, and as time went on I became increasingly more talkative. I also became known as a bookworm, although I wasn’t particularly bright in any other subjects apart from English. Writing and reading comprehension just came easily to me, and sometimes, when I opened a book, I would feel like I already had a faint idea of the story or the characters.
Four of the boys who had found me that summer attended the same school. Two of them, however, actually took enough time not only to know me, but also to become friends with me. They were a dark-haired, blue-eyed boy named Rupert Ainsworth and a very fat boy named Bryce Channing. Upon first seeing me, sitting on a nearby bench finishing my homework, Bryce came running over – as well as he could, anyway –fumbling over his words and saying that he recognized me. Rupert was beside him in a flash, jabbing Bryce, hard, in his fleshy stomach with his elbow. Bryce fell silent after that, and Rupert introduced himself, Bryce, and the other two boys, a redhead named Zachary and a lanky boy named Ivan. After that, Bryce would attempt to tease me in a “friendly” way from time to time, calling me the usual names a boy would use on a girl, but I ignored him.
I found Rupert to be much better company, and soon I forgot all about Bryce and his sudden outburst that day. While my girlfriends would tease me about cooties and romance, I would enjoy taking a little bit of time talking to Rupert or watching him play cricket in the yard with the other boys. Ivan told me a little about the rules, so I was able to watch, understand, and enjoy the sport.
And I was happy, whether I was in school or back home with my grandfather. I took up punting when I was twelve, and I would work my way up the river while Alfred either walked or fished with Harold. After learning how to manage a boat, I became strangely drawn to the water. As the days progressed, I would find myself sitting on the bank, skipping stones or watching, with a smile, Rupert mess around with Bryce, Ivan, Zachary, and around six other boys. Rupert and Bryce were the eldest, and after their thirteen years of age, the years would go down from twelve to nine among the boys. They had moved from their games of marbles to tag to wrestling, but sometimes, Rupert would stop roughhousing for a little to come talk to me and ask me how I was.
Other times Luke, a boy who was four years my junior, would sit beside me, not saying a word. Only one time did he ask me a question, and it was if I was okay. I was confused, saying yes, I was fine, and he looked ready to ask something else when Bryce shouted something to him and beckoned him over. I watched as Luke, his eyes filled with unexpected terror, run back over to his friends. He didn’t speak to me after that for two more years, and I always wondered why.
Sometimes the boys would invite me to play a game with them, and most of the time I would agree. It became known that I was the third fastest runner of the group, just behind Ivan and Rupert. On the rare occasion that we played cricket, I was killer at hitting. And every evening, when Alfred would stop by to retrieve me, Rupert would give me a token of some sort, like a marble or a rock, to remember our time together.
It was a bit foolish, but we were kids. We were both at least seemingly innocent youth living normal lives in a small British suburb. Well, at least, Rupert was living a normal life. He had parents and the comfort of having the memories of his life kept safely in his mind. I didn’t; I had gotten used to swallowing whatever information my grandfather gave me.
Rupert also had lived a normal past. Turns out I hadn’t.
It was at the end of the summer, when I was thirteen, that the change in my subconscious began. For two years, I normally had dreamless sleep, and if I did dream, then I never remembered what it was the next morning. All of that was changing slowly as whatever pieces of the past that remained came out of their hiding places.
One August day, I went punting again, thoroughly enjoying the quiet of the morning. There weren’t a lot of motorboats or sculls zipping around in this particular area, so it was perfect for me to continue to better my skills. As I pushed against the riverbed, I watched the boys assemble again for another wrestling match before making my way from the shore.
It was a beautiful day as I glided across the water. I didn’t think much about anything; I just let my thoughts drift like the leaves or sticks in the river. The sound of the rushing water calmed me, relaxed me, and I let myself be lost in the day, snapping out of it only to push against the bed when I slowed down or accidentally bumped into one the banks. It was almost as if I were somewhere else entirely, lost in another place, another country, and I was on another river. Everything was so incredibly peaceful, something I had been working to achieve due to the horrid incidents in the hospital. However, even those events seemed so distant in my memory; nothing mattered now, just the river and the summer breeze. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t recall any past moments. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t remember anything even when it was told to me.
I must have lost track of time, and as I watched the sun rise above the houses nearby, I turned around again and headed back to where the boys were. As I drew nearer to them, however, the heat was taking its toll on me. I could feel a heavy weight on my forehead, the muscles in my arms relax, and a dull aching where I had received the blow to the head, however it had happened. After a while, I gave up on propelling the boat any further and laid the pole diagonally across it, letting the river carry me to shore.
In the distance, I could see Rupert doing his victory dance—he must have beaten Bryce in wrestling once again—as I drifted in the middle of the river. It was such a calm, perfect day, but it was making me sleepy. I felt my eyes grow heavier and heavier before I could barely keep them open, and I let the sounds of the river and the voices of the boys waft through my ears like the smell of fresh fish through one’s nostrils. Then, not really noticing what I was doing, I curled up into a ball, yawning, and fell asleep.
It was the river that must have triggered the memories to come back, for as I slept I dreamt that I was lying in a dark, cramped space. Even though it felt like my eyes were wide open, I couldn’t see anything except for flickers of light from what seemed like small cracks around me. Then I heard the river, louder than ever before, pounding in my ears, and the voices no longer belonged to Rupert, Bryce, or the others, but voices belonging to people I didn’t know, voices I didn’t recognize.
My first reaction, in this dream, was of confusion, and I attempted to lift my arm in order to reach toward the light. My arm didn’t move. I couldn’t work my hands, legs, or back, either. I felt pinned down by some heavy object, and my eyes, only my eyes, were only to move back and forth. But I still didn’t say anything.
The voices grew louder, but they were all shouting gibberish. It was all garbled and mixed up like the sounds you’d hear in a horror movie. It terrified me. Again I tried to move, more frantically this time, breathing in and out as hard and as fast as I could. But when I did that, the air seemed to grow thinner, and I became more scared as I felt the strange stiffness in my legs and arms.
Whatever I was in, it was floating in the river, and it wasn’t the punt boat, either. I twisted my body, I jerked, and I was beginning to hyperventilate…then suddenly it was as if my arms had been freed, and they shot up to meet the thin shafts of light. My fingers hit something hard, and I rubbed my hands against it. There was a ceiling just above my head. I moved my hands to the sides. I touched walls.
I was trapped, and I was suffocating. The air was growing even thinner, and I thrashed around, trying to escape. I screamed. Then my eyes snapped open, and I was free again, in the open air, as I tumbled out of the boat and into the water, still screaming.
Before I disappeared under the surface, I could hear the shouts of the boys fall silent. I could see nothing but brown all around me as I kicked against the water. Then I remembered something rather important.
Oh, God! I heard myself scream in my head, my heart racing. I couldn’t swim!
It took every ounce of strength to fight my way to the surface, but it was hopeless. The current was pulling me down, and because I was still so small, I couldn’t fight against it. I was able to scream, “Help! Help!” a few times before submerging again. I was going to die, I thought. I had no strength left. I was going to suffocate, just like in the dream...
In the next moment, I felt someone’s arms around me as I struggled in the water. I felt my head break the surface, and, gasping for breath, I saw that it was Rupert who was holding me and carrying me to shore.
The boys were all yelling at the same time. Things like, “Bloody Hell, she all right?” “She shouldn’t be in the river! She can’t swim!” “Where’s Alfred? Get Alfred!” and so on. As Rupert pulled me closer to shore, I noticed that Bryce was holding back laughter, and I felt an unnatural urge to crack him in the jaw.
They laid me on the grass and Rupert pumped his hands against my stomach several times. I could taste mud and filth in my mouth as I coughed out water and bile and spit. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ivan swimming toward my boat, and, as I forced myself to gulp air back into my lungs, I heard Harold shouting.
“Oy, boys, back up! Give her some room to breathe, won’t you!”
He was limping over to me, Alfred right behind him, both looking disheveled. They must have been finishing their walk when I fell asleep, so they were relatively close by once I had awoken from the nightmare. Alfred knelt down beside me, taking me in his arms and lifting me up.
“All of you go back to what you were doing. I’m taking Joan home,” he ordered.
“Let me come with you!” Rupert cried, leaping to his feet.
“No, boy, stay here.”
“But I want to help Joan—”
“I said stay here!” barked Alfred. Then, nodding to Harold, he proceeded to carry me back to the cottage.
Then, like the girl I was, I burst into tears.
***
Alfred wrapped me in a blanket and got me a cup of tea before anything else, and I nestled myself deep into the easy chair beside the fireplace. I was still crying quite a bit, and Alfred held me close, trying to comfort me.
“Oh, God, how could this happen? I told you, you shouldn’t go punting like that all the time. And the fact that you can’t swim…oh, God, I’m so sorry.”
“No,” I managed to choke out through my tears. “No, it’s not…”
“Yes, it is. It’s my fault. I should have been watching you, should’ve warned you. You could’ve drowned, and there I was, right there…”
“No, no, no,” I sobbed, my hands shaking. Hot tea spilled from the cup and burned my knuckles, but I didn’t feel it. “It’s not that. It’s not that at all.”
Alfred gazed at me, looking confused. “Then what is it?” he asked.
“I-I…” I struggled to speak, dabbing at my eyes impatiently. “I was in the boat, and the sun…it just…I just went to sleep, that’s all. I fell asleep in the boat. And then…”
“And then what?”
“I was…I was trapped…trapped in this thing, in this box, in the darkness.” I could feel my shoulders shaking. “I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t move! And there were people all around, but they weren’t helping me…I was screaming…”
“But it was a dream?”
“Yes, but it felt…it felt so real…”
I broke down again and felt Alfred’s arms around me, pulling me into a strong bear hug. He held me for a long time, letting me cry into his shoulder, and once I pulled away, I looked into his eyes. I couldn’t decide what sort of emotion was ignited in them: anger or fear.
“Darling, that sounds frightening. Frightening beyond words. It may explain why you won’t go into the lift when we go shopping. Some hidden fear of being trapped.” I laughed at that, a weak laugh; I always believed I didn’t like elevators because it seemed so awkward to be with a bunch of people in such a small space. “But a dream’s a dream, Joan. It’s not real. And scary as it may be, it doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen to you, okay?”
I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t argue with him; it was common sense that dreams normally didn’t predict anything. All I could do was nod.
“Good, I’m glad. Now you can forget about it.” Alfred held out a hand and helped me up. “Now, I think we should go get some supper with your great-uncle and aunt. Does that sound good to you?”
I smiled. Yes, they must have been waiting for us. I could already taste my great-uncle’s pie on my tongue. Supper was always a treat; although we didn’t go to their house every day anymore, they were more than happy to have us. My great-aunt Edna was actually eager to talk to me about school subjects, but my great-uncle Calvin was surprisingly quiet when I came to supper, talking to me only to ask how the food was. When I complimented him, he would smile and then resume his silent treatment.
I got into a dry set of clothes and followed Alfred out of the cottage. I decided that I would try to leave this dream behind me; like Alfred had said, it wasn’t important, and it wasn’t worth wasting time to find out what it could possibly signify in my life.
Turns out I couldn’t escape from it, at least, not tonight, anyway. Because when I returned home after dinner, I didn’t want to go to sleep again. I finally ended up drifting away into the realm of dreams a couple hours after I had gotten into bed.
***
I was back in the world of darkness, and this time, I could move more flexibly and less painfully. I felt my hands push against the top of whatever I was in, trying to push it open, when I noticed something different about my surroundings.
I was still floating on what felt like water, but I was somewhere else. Someone was screaming. Then I heard the motor. The person kept screaming as I fought to pry the lid open. All at once, my fingers erupted into pain and I pulled them back, sticking them in my mouth and sucking on them as if that would end the burning in my fingertips. After a moment, I went back to clawing, tearing at the ceiling with my fingers. The pain only increased.
Then came the smells. That resin smell. A rich, dark smell that could only mean my demise. And the person continued to scream. That was when I realized who was screaming. It was me.
I woke up in a cold sweat, biting the inside of my cheek to cut off the mangled noise erupting from my throat. It was still dark around me, and I felt my chest rise and fall…against a blanket. I was back in my room, in my bed, in the open air. I was safe.
But I wasn’t going to sleep again. I threw the covers off me and went toward the window; Alfred was snoring loudly in the opposite room. I heaved the window partway open and let the cool summer night air rush against my sweaty face. This was too much for me. Having the same dream twice in a relatively short amount of time was unbelievably strange…and scary. It made me want to sit up all night with a flashlight, just to make sure the walls weren’t only five inches away from me.
I closed my eyes for a moment, as if attempting to forget the dream. I couldn’t. For the first time since I could remember, I could still recall a dream in full detail, even without trying too hard. Maybe it was because I was growing and changing, but whatever the reason, despite what Alfred had advised me to do, I couldn’t take my mind off of it.
I opened my eyes again, just in time to stare right into two large blue orbs.
I shrieked and lost my balance, tumbling to the floor. As I lay there, shivering from fear, I heard a familiar voice.
“Joan! Can’t you bloody do anything without being so overdramatic?”
It was then that I recognized the voice. I got to my feet just in time to see a boy by the window, staring intently at me with big, blue eyes.
“Rupert! What’re you doing here?” I gasped, suddenly feeling naked even in my sleeping gown. “My granddad’s asleep! It’s two in the morning!”
“Well, he told me to bug off, but I couldn’t just leave you. You bloody nearly drowned, remember?” Rupert said. “Here, open the window all the way.”
“What? Why?”
“So I can come in, you ninny. C’mon.”
“I am not going to just let you crawl through my window!” I snapped, absolutely shocked—and a little flattered. But I didn’t show the flattered side of me and folded my arms across my chest. “Honestly, Rupert…”
“Look, just for five minutes, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.”
I looked at him suspiciously. Being thirteen, I was beginning to understand the hidden motives of boys. However, Rupert seemed incredibly sincere, and by now, I had perfected the talent of being able to tell whether or not he was acting.
“You promise you won’t…do anything stupid?” I asked, a cold tone in my voice.
Rupert snorted. “Honestly, Joan, what would I do to you?”
“And you’ll leave in five minutes?”
“I swear on my grandmother’s grave.”
I thought about it. I was still pretty scared about the dream, and in the end, I couldn’t see how it would hurt. Besides, Alfred was just in the other room. But I acted like a tough, defensive girl just the same.
“Oh, all right,” I said, with a hint of annoyance in my now authoritative voice. “But don’t make too much noise, my granddad’s in the other room.”
“I noticed,” Rupert muttered, as Alfred emitted another loud snore.
I opened the window just enough so Rupert could fit and directed him to sit right on the edge of the bed, and not any closer. He looked at me as if he thought I was worried about getting cooties on my sheets or pillows. However, I proved that such was not the case by sitting down next to him, looking at him with an inquisitive expression on my face. He noticed straightaway.
“What?” he asked, a little taken aback.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” I said. “Any particular reason you came out this early in the morning to see me? Or was it really to make sure I was okay?”
Rupert smiled. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, part of the reason was I was worried about you, but…I’m just restless. It’s getting close to school again, and…I don’t really wanna go.”
I felt my cheeks grow warm when Rupert reminded me of how he was concerned about me, but I tried to stay tough. I may have been one of those intelligent, giggly girls at times, but I always liked to act like one of the guys. “Why don’t you want to go?”
“I dunno, I just don’t,” Rupert replied, looking down at his hands. “I just…” he looked back at me. “We’re getting older so quickly, Joan. I mean, I’ve already known you for three years.”
“We’ve got plenty of time.”
“Not really,” objected Rupert. “Only another four years and I’m not supposed to play anymore. I’m not supposed to act stupid. Pretty soon me mum’s gonna be up in my groin about grades and me dad’s gonna want me to work in his business. I’m not gonna be a boy anymore, I’m gonna be a man.”
“Well, I suppose…I mean, being a man has its advantages,” I said, doing my best to add to the conversation without sounding too dramatic. Rupert was already too much for the both of us.
And he wasn’t done, either. “Maybe, maybe it does, but still…I mean, school’s okay, I guess, but it’s like I don’t want to grow up. I’m like Peter Pan, you know? I don’t want responsibilities, I don’t want to find out what I’m meant to be…I just like being me, playing by the river. Not anything else.”
I looked at Rupert intently. “Well, that’s…that’s very deep coming from someone who spends his time beating the tar out of a fat bloke during a wrestling match.”
Rupert laughed at first, but then he remembered where he was and quieted down. But he still said, smiling, “Yeah, I suppose that’s true.”
“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” I asked, sincerely. “I mean, if this is bothering you so much…”
“Nah, just wanted to get that off my chest,” Rupert said, stretching his back and yawning so that he vaguely resembled a large cat. “I mean, you’ve got loads to think of already, especially after what happened today…”
“Oh, yeah, that.” Remnants of the dream were coming back to me, but I mentally warded them off and turned back to Rupert. “Rupert, I…”
“Oh! That reminds me,” interrupted Rupert, as he rummaged through his pockets; he was still wearing a T-shirt and jeans. He pulled out something small and pressed it into my palm. “It’s for you. A little something for the day being…well, memorable, even in a bad way.”
I smiled faintly and looked down, expecting to see the familiar pebble or piece of bottle glass he would give me. It wasn’t; it was a broken necklace, the kind with cheap plastic beads on them that could still shimmer in the sunlight. I dropped it from one palm to the other, curiously inspecting it.
“I found it on the bank, about two seconds before you fell into the river,” Rupert was explaining. “And, well, I was gonna give it to you anyway despite what happened. It’s a girl thing, so I thought you’d like it.”
“It’s…it’s lovely, Rupert.” I let the strand curl up in my right hand and closed my fingers around the beads. “Rupert...”
“Yes?”
I heard another snore from Alfred. Leaping up, I snatched Rupert’s sleeve. “You better go. Granddad might wake up.”
Rupert looked a little crestfallen, but I could tell that he understood the situation. I led him to the window and watched as he clambered through it, dropping rather ungracefully onto the dirt.
Then I remembered what I had wanted to say before. “Wait, Rupert.”
He turned back around to look at me. I could swear that his eyes glowed in the moonlight.
“I…” I swallowed. “Thanks for saving my life today, Rupert. I owe you one.”
Rupert grinned. “Cool, I’m a hero.” Then he took off, calling, “Meet me tomorrow, by the river!”
“I dunno if I want to be so close to the river after what happened!” I called after him as he left.
“Relax, it’s not gonna attack you or anything. Come mess around!”
I didn’t say anything back. Obviously he wasn’t going to be able to understand, and I wasn’t going to tell him the exact truth anyway. I simply watched him leave before sitting back onto the bed, rubbing my temples.
I didn’t go to sleep for the rest of the night.
The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since October 7th, 2011.
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