Chapter Sixteen
On the way back to Ellie’s house, I did some thinking. It was day two, which meant that the doctors were two hours into my operation. Dr. Southers said that the entire operation, including the recovery time, would take about seven hours. Two hours into the operation, five to go. To be brief, I had about five days left in my dream.
The sun was almost above us, indicating that it was either twelve or one in the afternoon. Ellie was walking swiftly, and it was a challenge to keep up with her and her long legs. I didn’t really understand what angered her about becoming my accompaniment, and why it infuriated her even more when I asked what those people were talking about and their “past memories”.
“Hurry,” she said. “I’ll explain everything when we get back to my house.” She would look both ways, and, just to be safe, would put her hand over her mouth. “We can talk in private there.”
It didn’t take us long to make it to the middle-class neighborhood of Egyptian homes. I felt terrible when I saw the families whose homes were destroyed in the earthquake. The most memorable was of a small girl – maybe four or five – with long, blonde hair digging through the broken clay and furniture. I turned my head to look at her a bit longer, giving me enough time to see her unearth a small teddy bear. She clutched it to her chest like her life wouldn’t have continued without it.
The memory of my father popped into my head. I tried to ignore it, but it was there, and it was reluctant to leave. I was forced to remember that last day; how I woke up in the dead of night to the fighting that had occurred numerous times before. I knew that my parents would yell at me if I left my room, so I stayed in my bed, clutching an old teddy bear that my dad had given me for Christmas. I called him Fluffy. He was my only friend at times like those. Something I could feel comfort with whenever my parents would quarrel with one another.
My mind couldn’t process that the thud that came from the front door was a punch from my mom to my dad, and that the shatter was the china plate my dad threw against the wall. It came from a set of china silverware that my grandmother gave to my mom before she died.
I could still hear the sound of my father shouting, quickly opening the door, and storming out of the house. The cries of my pleading mother, desperately calling for him to come back were still sharp. It felt like a knife was piercing my eardrums.
I didn’t know whose side I was on. I guess I was just too scared to think rationally like that. All I knew was that my father left, and the probability of him returning was completely unknown.
A few minutes after, I could hear my mom’s footsteps approaching my door. I quickly buried myself under the covers and shut my eyes, hoping to convince her that I was asleep. And believe me, I really wished I was asleep at that moment. Or perhaps I was trying to coax myself that shutting my eyes would wake me up from that horrible dream?
But no, everything at that moment was all too real. More real than Efaque City was and could ever be. And I knew, from the moment my mother laid a gentle hand on me, that my father had left.
Looking back at that girl, holding her torn and tattered bear in her arms, I was reminded of that dreadful night. Especially when she addressed it as Fluffy.
Ellie sped up from a fast walk to a jog. At that rate, we were able to make it to her house in a relatively short amount of time.
We walked into the dim, hot building. Ellie took a seat at the dinner table and I did the same. She began talking almost instantly. “Because you’re the Lucid, I think you need to know some things.” Sighing, she began searching her mind for the answers I needed so desperately. “Okay,” she eventually said. “I used to be schooled before I became a hunter. A requirement for all kids until they decide what they want to do as their main job. Anyways, the priests recommended a course in which we learned about the Lucid. Information about the dreamer was extremely classified between the priests and the Empress, but they felt that it was pointless to keep us uneducated about the subject.” She looked at me with sorrowful eyes. “And one thing we learned was that all memories that occurred before the arrival of the Lucid were nonexistent. They were fake.” Tears began welling up in her blue eyes. “Which means, everything I remember of my father and brother . . . never happened. Everything before you arrived never happened. It’s impossible to think that my only true reality started only yesterday.”
“Well,” I said gently, “how do you know that for sure?”
“Because, this place didn’t even exist before you came here!” She was practically screaming. Abruptly, she stood up and leaned in so that her nose was almost touching my forehead. “Almost all my memories are fake.”
And at that, she turned and walked swiftly to her room.
I took a hot shower and threw on an oversized T-shirt I found in my bedroom closet. Since it was beginning to get cold, I decided to wear a fluffy robe over it.
The makeup Ellie had put on my face earlier was a struggle to get off, and I had to vigorously rub my face in the sink until my face was a bright red. I exited the bathroom, steam spilling out into the cool hallway.
Ellie was still locked in her room. No sound came from the closed doorway, not even when I pressed my ear to the polished oak. I sighed and walked into my grandmother’s kitchen, wistfulness filling the air. I clamored through the outdated cupboards in search of something to snack on, but my appetite quickly diminished when I remembered that the Tascaque was the following day.
I still hadn’t found myself an acquaintance, and Ellie made it very clear that she wasn’t cut for the job. The reason why she refused the position remained unknown, but I knew that it would be wise to hold off on the questions for a while.
Long after the sun had dipped below the horizon, the sounds of nearby families having dinner began to fade and the lights that once emitted from the sandstone houses had been dimmed. I was more than ready to head off to bed when I passed Ellie’s room. Her sobs were distinguishable in the midst of the quiet house, and I knew that it had to do with her “fake” memories of her brother and father.
After much debate, I gathered up the courage to lightly knock of the door, hoping that I hadn’t startled her. “Ellie?” I called. The sobs came to an abrupt halt, but no response was heard. “Hello?” I called once again.
Following a series of distinct sniffles, Ellie’s cracked voice came to my ear. “What do you want?”
I sighed, feeling a sudden sympathy for her. “To talk,” I said. “If anyone would understand, it would be me,” I explained with a sudden epiphany. This girl was part of my subconscious, so who would be better to understand her than myself? We were basically parts of the same whole – my brain.
“Come in,” Ellie said reluctantly.
I opened the door to a dark room, the mesh curtains covering the enormous windows. Even though it was hard to make out, I could tell that this was my mother’s room from when we lived in Arizona. The familiar smell of vanilla and peppermint hovered in the enclosed space, and I could almost hear her soft, gentle voice.
Ellie was strewn on the bed like a rag doll, the filtered moonlight casting a ghost-like glow over her eyes. Her tears had caused her eyeliner to stray from her lids, and her hair was a tangled mess that resembled a clump of tumbleweed.
I sat at the end of her bed, stroking the coverings with my hand; they were made of pure Egyptian cotton. “What’s wrong?” I asked sincerely. I handed her a couple tissues I gathered from the box on the nightstand.
As she dabbed her eyes, a sudden look of dread overcame her face. “I need to tell you something.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What more do you need to tell?”
She sat up, running her fingers down her black hair and draping it over her right shoulder. “Although I know what I’m about to tell you never happened, I can feel those memories in my heart. It’s definitely something that has affected me, for these memories are as real as this very moment I’m having with you. I just need you to understand that.”
I nodded, telling her that I understood.
She sighed, fingering the crumpled tissues with a nervous hand. “You aren’t the first Anti-Lucid I knew on a personal level.” Her eyes searched my face, as if she were trying to look for something familiar among my features. “My brother . . . five years ago, had taken part in the Tascaque. I was his acquaintance.”
