The Switch

Sarah: Tunes [Part THREE]

The sneezing fit was a nuisance.

By the time I had finished eighteen sneezes, my head was spinning.

Stupid powder I cursed. What the hell was it, anyway?

Another sneeze.

For sure, my nose was going to fall off. Then I’d be walking around like you know who—all nose-less and shit.

“Ugg” I sniffed, tilting my head backwards, with my eyes watering.

A cold palm trailed over my forehead, and though my hair, startling me.

I jumped, and moved away, facing the ghostly figure kneeling on Derek’s bed.

“What the hell?” I demanded of the woman I thought was my mother.

She smiled “You’re trying to understand an ancient language”

Her voice wasn’t a whisper any longer. It was solid—like she was there for real. Only thing telling me that she wasn’t was the fact that I could see forty per cent through her.

My face relaxed, and I sniffed my partly runny nose “Yeah. What’s so funny about that?”

She shook her head, giggling “You don’t remember a thing, my child. You already know the language”

“Yeah…no” I concluded “I can’t understand Icelandic”

“You just don’t remember it.” She declared, as if telling me my name was Nemo, and I didn’t know it myself. A part of me thought she was right. What if I was Nemo, lost beyond the reef?

“Come, look again” she lifted the book in her arms, and it was surprising that she could. I thought it’d go right through her, but no.

Well, she was sitting on the bed, without sinking into it.

It’s the powder the more sensible part of me told me the sneezes are playing games with my head.

Nonetheless, I walked carefully toward her, and climbed onto the bed, peeking into the book as she trailed her fingers over the pages.

The air around her was chilly.

“Are you…dead?” I couldn’t help but ask.

She laughed “No, of course not!” then, her eyes softened, and she rest a cold palm on my cheek “I’ve missed you so much”

Right. How was I supposed to reply to that?

Yeah, I missed you too?

I didn’t even know the woman!

I shifted my gaze, again, to the writing.

‘Hún verður hylkið fyrir Sharon er sál…’

“Sál…” I trailed, somehow recognizing the word. It felt so familiar on my lips and to my ears, all of a sudden—like I’d been hearing it since I was a kid.

The meaning dawned on me like a flower bed; gentle and overwhelming.

“That means soul…” I didn’t know where it came from, but, it did.

“Right” her smile brightened “You’re closer to home than ever”

“Wh—where is that, exactly?”

She sighed “I’m so sorry I made you go through this”

She looked so disappointed, that it raised a pang in my heart.