In The Shadows

Chapter Six: The Plane in The Park

Elowen woke with a start.

The images of a tall shadow chasing her flashed behind her eyelids when she blinked. It was a man but he had the face of the woman who had attacked her and he spoke in Latin, his eyes pure black holes in the ominous light provided by her dream brain. He had chased her all the way to Julian's shop before she woke up with a gasp. She could still feel the snow freezing her feet through her boots though there was nothing there.

When the faces subsided and her eyes had adjusted to the darkness of her room, she looked at the clock on the bedside table. Blinding red numbers read 4:25 AM. She groaned and rolled back over, throwing one leg over the rolled-up duvet. Sweat had pooled in the small of her back and she couldn't stand burrowing back under the blankets yet.

Her phone ringing woke her the second time and it took her several moments to place the noise and the source and then crawl across the bed to grab the device from the space next to the clock. It blinked 7:02 AM up at her this time, mocking her and laughing at her misery. She answered the call flashing Miranda Clarke (Mom).

"Still sleeping?" her mom asked.

Elowen yawned, her eyes burning with tears. She rubbed roughly at them with her free hand until she saw stars on her bedroom wall.

"Yeah."

Mom clicked her tongue. "I'm on the NYU site. It looks like they've added some new programs. I really think there may be something for you this time, El."

There was a noncommittal noise from Elowen's end as she rolled back to the other side of the bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin and tucking the phone under her cheek against the pillow. Sleep beckoned like a long lost lover.

"Elowen, you promised," her mom said, her voice a soft whine. Her dad was probably still sleeping, not an early bird when he didn't have to be. "I expect some kind of text by dinner your time. Just look them over, yeah? Remember, there's no rush. There's plenty of time to apply for the fall. We'll talk more when your dad and I get back but a headstart takes a lot of the stress off in the long run."

"Mmm-kay."

They talked for a few more minutes, mostly her mom telling her about their snorkeling and all the fancy food and spa treatments. Even as strong as her love for winter and cold was, Elowen felt the slightest bit jealous by the time they hung up the phone. Dad had gotten up and was on the hunt for coffee so they needed to head out.

It was already a quarter till eight when Elowen trudged into the kitchen, hair dripping still from the entirely too hot shower she'd just exited. She was starving but still half asleep so she put a cup in the Keurig first and went to the fridge for a bagel. The cream cheese had expired three days earlier so she ate it plain.

As promised, she spent the better part of an hour looking through the NYU site and related blogs from first-year students, strangers who were nervous but excited. Some were still Sophomores in High School already looking forward to their dorm room and hectic schedules and unnecessary parties. It all looked like a giant overwhelming mess to Elowen but she considered how she might find something worthwhile in it all. It wasn't that nothing appealed to her. There were a few things. She liked literature, and language, and some parts of history and psychology and sometimes science fascinated her. But did she want to study them? The thought gave her a headache and anxiety instead of hope and excitement. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Nothing sounded right. Nothing sounded good enough for a lifelong commitment. Someday, one day, she thought she might randomly choose and go with it. If she fails, at least she could tell everyone she tried.

It was safe to say the whole of the morning had sufficiently dropped her mood and set up her day to be a little less than good whenever she finally got dressed and went out. Starting with Julian immediately asking her to sweep the storefront and wipe the display cabinets down before she had even stepped into the shop at noon, a fresh cup of coffee in her hand. It was the third cup of the day.