Atlantis (15 page)

“
Well, I was on one of my late walks a few nights ago, and I ran into Elliott in the park.”

“
So?”

“
So. . . he sort of gave me a ring and he was acting really strange. He was saying lots of stuff I didn’t understand.”

“
Saying stuff like what? Weird things or some other language.”

“
Both.”

We sat there quiet for a moment. Both of us collecting our thoughts. I was trying to collect my thoughts on all the strange occurrences that had been going on the last three days, and Nicholas was trying to decide if Elliott was a threat to him. Which he was.

“
He gave you a ring? Why?”

I shrugged. It felt like the best response at the moment.

Nicholas’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you wearing it?”

My hand held up the evidence. As usual, the opal didn’t need light to look amazing. Even in the dimly lit cellar it seemed to glow.

Nicholas didn’t like it.

“
So you like this Ell-i-ott because he bought you a present?” The harshness of his tone hurt, and that was before I added in his insinuation that I would be so shallow as to like someone for the gifts they gave me.

“
No. You know me better than that!” I shrugged out of his arms and scooted a few feet away.

I heard him mutter under his breath, “I thought I did.”

I went to get up and leave.

“
Sorry. Sorry, don’t go. I. . . I just wasn’t expecting any of this, you know?”

I sat back down next to him, letting his arms wrap around me once more.

“
I know. I wasn’t expecting this either. I mean, look at this from my perspective. There’s a good possibility that he is a figment of my imagination, and where does that leave me?”

“
With me.” He hugged me tight.

“
I thought it left me in love with myself.”

“
I think you’re pretty great.”

“
Thanks.” I was happy he didn’t know I heard him use the “L” word this morning in his sleep. And I was more than thankful that he didn’t use it now.

I did love Nicholas, just not in a romantic way. I never did. But the way I felt about Elliott seemed to be getting stronger by the minute. It was only intensified whenever he was near me. His magnetic touch seemed to draw me to him. I was proud that I was having this conversation with Nicholas without crying.

“
You realize that still leaves me crazy though.”

Nicholas laughed, and it made me happy that I could hear the usual easygoing tone was returning.

“
I don’t think you’re crazy. People live in their heads all the time. In fact most people do, whether they realize it or not.”

I was starting to feel a little better. I was starting to feel more certain that Nicholas would come around. I still had one haven to retreat to. It was funny though, because it wasn’t his words that comforted me, it was the fact that even though a straight jacket and padded white room seemed to be an imminent part of my future, I had my friend back, standing (uh, sitting) beside me.

“
Lil.”

“
What?” I could tell that his tone had changed, and it worried me. It wasn’t the same sad sound as before, but rather unsure and worried now.

Nicholas hugged me tighter. I was so small in comparison to him, I was lost in his arms. I felt his breath on my cheek as he tucked his face down by mine and whispered in my ear, “What’s real or isn’t real doesn’t matter. The consequences are the same you know.” There was a pause as he took a deep breath and said, “Please pick me.” He then gently kissed my cheek.

“
I. . . have to go.” I stood up so fast I felt a little dizzy, but I needed to get out of there. The cellar seemed to have somehow run out of air.

“
No! Don’t go.” His hands reached out for me, barely sweeping my fingers.

I was still walking away, getting ever closer to the door. “I... uh... bye.” I squeezed out the door.

“
Sorry,” I said outside the door. I didn’t even bother to try and shut it behind me.

Even the filtered light of the trees was bright in comparison to that dungeon. I breathed in the fresh air as I ran. The occasional branch and leaves would pull at my clothes or scratch my arms, since I stuck to the trees and didn’t break for the street.

“
DAMMIT!” I yelled up at the leaf blocked sky.

I was so close to mending the tear with Nicholas. I had almost had the hole patched; the stitches were sewn, then he went and tore it open, again. At least it was his turn to apologize. I already knew I would let him. I was now without my Harlet friend, and as much as I wished it weren’t true, I needed Nicholas right now. I needed him for my sanity. Even if he was going to be twitter-pated and annoying.

I paced in the trees behind Nicholas’ house for at least an hour. Back and forth I walked, crunching the old leaves and twigs in my way. I ended up wearing a path through the trees, I went back and forth so many times.

I didn’t feel like going home. I wanted to go to my park, but Nicholas was sure to look for me there, and so was Elliott. I had nowhere left, so I paced.

My stomach growled and broke the tattoo of noise my feet made with the ground. I was starting to get hungry. I had downed one of the Pop-Tarts Nicholas had made me this morning on my way out the door to go get coffee. But Pop-Tarts and coffee don’t count as a very nutritious meal, and my stomach started to whine for real food.

I ignored it. I had more important things to deal with. I continued to pace.

Nicholas’s words clouded my thoughts.
What’s real or isn’t real doesn’t matter, the consequences are the same.
What the hell did that mean! The consequences are the same? His words seemed to be on permanent repeat in my head as I walked back and forth.

I caught myself staring into the ocean of color on my hand, and somehow Nicholas’s words started to make sense. I still didn’t fully understand them, but he was right that what’s real or isn’t real doesn’t matter, because what you believe becomes your reality. Now all I had to do was choose what to believe. That’s easier said than done.

I looked around and realized my feet had quit pacing, and that I had unconsciously started to make my way to my park. Sooner than I would have thought possible I was sitting, hidden in the shade of the trees that made up the cove I was in last night with Elliott. I laid back and watched the clouds pass by overhead through the small window that the trees permitted light through.

I shut my eyes and held my left hand in my right. My thumb and middle finger of my right hand stroked the stone on my left. I lay there, breathing, thinking.

I don’t know what made me do it. I don’t know why I did it. But as I lay there touching the stone I said, “Elliott” to no one.

An unnatural wind blew. It made my hair blow into my eyes. Before I could even separate my hands to brush it out of my face, the electricity of Elliott pulsed through me. I opened my eyes to him brushing the hair from my face with his soft, warm, electric hand.

“
Buongiorno Miele.”

Elliott lay beside me as though he had been there the entire time, his head propped up on his right hand as his left stroked my face. And even though it wasn’t logical, practical, or in all reality smart, I flung my arms around his neck and held myself close to him. My heart raced with happiness, and I breathed him in. He smelled of the same floral scent as before. It was fabulous.

Elliott giggled his laugh, and the sound sang to my heart. I missed the sound of his honey voice when he wasn’t around. I missed the electricity in his touch. I missed him, and it scared me.

“
I missed you too.” Elliott hugged me back.

Although my world seemed to be falling apart around me, at that very moment, in his arms, I felt well. The feeling of happiness washed through me so completely that it took me a moment to realize what I had done. I slowly willed my arms to release him, but only managed to get myself to let him go enough for me to look him in the eyes.

Elliott smiled at me. “What?”

What? -- was the question that plagued my mind.
What
was it about Elliott that pulled me to him?
What
were the reasons for all the strange things that were happening lately?
What
did I believe?

“
Are you still worried that I’m not real?”

My eyes swept the ground. “A little,” I admitted.

“
What’s real or isn’t real doesn’t matter my love, the consequences are the same.”

“
Excuse me?”

“
Pick me, Miele. Pick my world. Please.”

“
Your world?”

“
With me is where you belong. I would stay in your world permanently if I could, but I can’t.” An ancient sadness was in his voice. He was unsure of what my answer was. So was I. “Please choose me.”

A better question than
what did I believe
came to me then.
What
did I want?