Aiden
The vague image of her in my mind makes my breath catch in my throat, an action I cannot explain. After last night, at the coffee shop she used to love the name of so much, I knew there was something she was hiding. The mere mention of its name would make her laugh her ass off, but she didn’t and I don’t think I’ll hear her laugh as hard ever again. Her ease with me face to face but the unease over our conversation on the phone meant that something was happening at that moment, but I don’t want to think of that much. She is getting help. From whom? I don’t know. But there is someone there for her besides me and that is a relief.
My parents and I have not been on the best terms. We used to be a family that was unbreakable by the bonds of tragedy and love, but now, at the simple thought of Layla, I just want to scold them and blame all of my confusion and overwhelming emotions on them. Instead, I tolerate their presence in the morning at breakfast and at night during dinner. The rest of my time I spend miserable in school or angry at home.
She is gone from my house, but her presence is strong.
I can still see her lying on my bed two nights ago asking me what could have put us here.
I can hear the sound of pain in the words “I know,” she had said to me last night, like there was such a grander meaning.
I can still feel her kiss against my cheek while I hate myself for always having to say that every step I take to her or for her is in a friendly way. Because deep down, I don’t think it is.
I am a guy.
My DNA and the punches I can throw prove that, but there is a certain aspect of grace and poetry to the way I think and speak that makes me believe that I have to feel something greater than I have every felt before. I am growing and changing and something must have triggered it. Layla must have triggered me to feel again and for that, I am forever grateful. That is why I need to solve this. I need to get Layla her life back.
-
The weekends are the only days I could possibly read the journals again or do a bit more snooping around. Saturday morning hits and the first things I do are to grab three boxes of orange juice, two waffles, I make sure my parents really aren’t home and I almost run to their the master bedroom.
I take a deep breath that chills my lungs. I’m surprised by the coldness of the room, but I just ignore it. I have a sweater on anyway. I pull the box out and I try to read every journal that I didn’t take the time to see the last time around. Some, I cannot figure out. The indecipherable writing and the worn out pages are to blame not to mention some aren’t even in English or Turkish, but in Ottoman Turkish which combines Persian and Arabic. To top it all off, it is written in Ottoman alphabet. I don’t think it’s as big of a loss since all the journals seem to say the same thing. The content of the box I still haven’t observed are the papers on the side. I take them out, with less care than with the old journals, and I skim through the paragraphs wondering how the more contemporary Asli and Ozim families are stroked by this.
New York- 1988
Allison Asli, same as her ancestors, forgets the Ozim she had previously fallen in love with. It is confirmed that the chosen Asli of the generation has had the skills brought down to her and she will do the same to her child.
I don’t quite understand what the researcher means but my eyes drift over to a cut out from a newspaper headline.
MURDER OR SUICIDE?
Dr. Riley Ozim was found dead in his office at 5:55 am when the janitor had arrived. Forensic doctors have found that the time of death would be at around midnight, but no evidence of another person being at the crime scene has been found. A trace of a carcinogen enzyme was found in his blood proving that he died from poison. From his own hand or someone else’s? It might be a while before police find any more clues telling us. For the full article, go to page 58.
The Ozim and Asli mystery has been going on for a long time, but there still aren’t any cases where the Ozim is the one who swears the Asli into oblivion. I am the only one.
The last research was done on a girl named Skylar in Denver. She was only 17 when she died. Again, from a poison. I doubt this is a coincidence, but nothing can prove it. I throw the paper away slowly losing hope when I see something I didn’t think could help me at first; a name written at the bottom right corner of the last research paper. The researcher.
Ronald Ozim
He could be the one to make all of this clear for me. He is the only piece of information I have that isn’t clouded with confusion or neutralized by journalist norms. He knows what he is writing about but hasn’t explained it all fearing that the information could be in the wrong hands. My parents have this because they were supposed to tell me what is wrong with both our families at the beginning, but instead, they kept it a secret and threw Layla out claiming that it was for my own good still not mentioning this secret story part of both our families' histories. I don’t think there is another way for me to find out the truth but to contact this guy.
After an hour, searching around everywhere on this mystical software I spend way too much time on – the internet – I come across his office number, located in St-Petersburg, Florida, only a 30 minute drive. I give him a call and he surprisingly accepts to meet me today in Tampa.
After 45 minutes of hopelessly and lifelessly staring at the floor, drinking juice or munching on waffles, I finally get a call from him asking me to meet him at Rosa’s Diner.
-
“So, it seemed really important for you to meet me kid,” he says before stuffing a fork full of chicken pot pie in his mouth. He wears a light brown vest and a white shirt underneath. He pushes his backpack farther from him in the booth as if the presence of the backpack could be annoying. The sun rays piercing through the window make the subtle ruddy curls of his hair shine.
“Yeah, it really is Mr. Oz…”
“Please, call me Ron. Being a ginger makes it really amusing for me to be called by my nickname.”
I laugh so hard in my mind at his weirdness and the fun he brings to the table, but my confusion and pain only lets me chuckle. I barely touch my lasagna as he devours his plate.
“Ron, I saw your research papers on all the mysterious deaths of the Ozim family. But I know that many Ozims have survived. My grandfather, my dad, you. I need to know what is causing all of this. I need to know why I am the one who forgot this time around. I need to know how you guys survived.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on man, cut the crap,” his response sparks annoyance in me, “I read my ancestors’ journals and your research on every Ozim after the First World War. You wrote about the ones before your age and personally kept track of every single one after you had known the secret and I want to know it too.”
He silently keeps eating hastily, occasionally drinking his beer to make things exciting.
“Hey!” I say a bit too loud causing the waitress passing by us to jump and almost drop a bowl of chili on me. “I need to know why all of you survived. What happened to the Asli you were destined to fall in love with?”
“Look, kid.” He takes a moment to clean his mouth with his already greasy napkin before he speaks again. “You aren’t going to like what is to come, okay? It’s going to be hard to accept and it will test the limits of your kindness and bravery.”
“Shoot,” I say crossing my arms on my chest, pulling away from the table I had thrown myself on.
“These three people you just named are only three men amongst many other Ozims that actually did survive the curse.”
I frown at the mention of the word ‘curse’. He sees my reaction, but ignores it.
“It’s a pretty simple concept. Get the hell away from the city you grew up in and swear to forever stay single and live a modest life alone. You don’t have to be lonely just romantically alone.”
“And what is this curse you speak of?”
He laughs at the way I asked him, but quickly gets back into his beer drinking constitutionally enforced seriousness of the supposed adulthood he must acquire.
“There was curse put on both families by a witch in the Asli family centuries ago when her parents wouldn’t let her love the Ozim she could not ever leave, since they were rival families aspiring to have the throne to themselves. Since then, an Asli forgets and an Ozim is forgotten. She couldn’t bear the pain of knowing a man she had so deeply loved, but couldn’t stay in love with so she had destined these two families to have successors fall in love in revenge to the elders of the family, but also permitted the Asli to forget the grief she had so deeply wished to escape.”
I start eating my food filling my agape mouth.
“So yes, the Aslis have a witch descendant in every generation and the caster gives their powers to the next one chosen. What happened with you and Layla is far from simple. Somehow, when the caster was shown the image of the teenager destined to forget, she saw Layla’s face and not yours.”
“It’s not ‘somehow’. I am sure you know exactly how that happened.”
“Okay fine, I do. Why not tell you since I am already telling you everything. The Ozim has to be in a very emotionally fragile and vulnerable state for the curse to be strong enough to absorb the person’s mind. You are going to hate hearing this, but…”
He stops, staring at his empty plate and I hate that he can’t decide what to tell me.
“Ron, tell me.”
“That’s why your sister was killed.”
I feel my eyelids burn with tears threatening to fall, but I take in a deep breath and with a clenched fist and grinding teeth, I continue to listen.
“There are people in the Asli family drowned by fear so deeply that even the Asli elders themselves cannot control them. Since they don’t have witchcraft, they use violence. You were starting to notice Layla and it was obvious that one day a friendship would start brewing and when that would happen, how could they stop the love from appearing too? They killed your sister to make your life tragic and yourself vulnerable, but even then, the curse wouldn’t work on you. Even when they held a gun to the casters head and forced her to try to make you be forgotten when she didn’t want it to be this way, you were still stronger than the curse Aiden.
“If she would have known she was trying to save Layla from you, she would have realized that there was something wrong because years prior she tried to make you forget, but she never saw you that night and no suspicions were aroused. She ended up cursing it the wrong way since magic prepared everything for her the wrong way.”
My breath shaking, I finally speak up. “I know you are a researcher, but you have some information that could be only known if you were there. How do you know?”
“The Asli I was destined to fall in love with is the caster’s granddaughter. She is the next one in line. She followed her grandmother everywhere for her safety and learning. I followed Sofia everywhere to make sure she was safe, only years after of course, when she had married another man.”
He looks out the window at the cars passing and I know he really did love her.
“The deaths are caused by a poison that is created in their bodies,” he continues. “It isn’t suicide or murder. It’s a witch crafted curse from centuries ago that turns the blood’s plasma into a toxic substance. No doctor or scientist has been able to explain it and no caster has ever dared to make a counter spell for it.”
Understand everything means that I know have to know how to put it all at use.
“How do I get myself to remember? How I do I save Layla from her death?”
He looks at me before speaking again, not even answering my questions.
“Did you ever wake up from a memory of Layla before? Or maybe have gaps in your memory of the Layla you know now?”
In complete and utter shock, I nod. I had realized this happened every day. It took me awhile to realize the gaps because they did not happen often and I have only started getting them for a few days now. I now understand what Layla meant two or three days ago when she was asking me why I forgot her during lunch. The other times I was home alone or I just don't remember anything happening.
“That’s a key put in with the curse. It tells you when the other’s death is near. The memories keep getting shorter and the gaps keep getting longer correct?”
I nod, again without a word. He writes it down on a notepad he had taken out at the very beginning.
“I haven’t realized this and nor had the Aslis themselves until the case in Denver around 6 years ago. You get a memory at midnight, 12 AM, and a gap at noon, 12 PM. How bad have they gotten now?”
Trying to piece together my thoughts and words I reply, “the longest gap I have had lasted less than 10 minutes, around 5 minutes I guess.”
“Aiden, if this goes on, Layla will die.”
I hold my head in my hands on table, pressuring my forehead. A headache is brewing from all the over thinking and confusion. The worst form of mental pains, in my opinion is lack of knowledge, forgetting. Oblivion causes insanity and I am slowly losing it.
“But there is one way of breaking the curse. Your dad and I amongst others avoided the curse by not falling in love with Asli and running away. Since you and Layla already care for each other, if you are able, running away would break it, but also you. The pain will break you and that’s why no one has been able to leave. The farther you go, the shorter the gaps will get and the longer the memories. You’ll stay in love, but from each other. She isn’t supposed to be affected by the curse this way and people might start remembering her slowly. Things won’t change, but their everyday lives will have Layla back in them.”
“How the hell do you want me to leave Ron? I am barely 17 and I haven’t finished high school. You want me to leave my life, my family, Layla?”
“Would you rather Layla die? She is on the Grim Reaper’s list anyway. This is experimental, it has never been done before, but my research says it will work. You have to try.”
“I know.”
And there were the two words I just told Ron knowing they had so much more meaning than he thought.
-
Waiting by the river side for Layla is probably the longest 5 minutes of my life. When she walks down the sidewalk towards me, she looks nourished, happy, but somewhat scared. She almost jumps in my arms and her head nuzzled on my chest makes me reconsider everything again, but once I remember this beautiful face won’t exist anymore if I don’t leave, I know it’s the best choice I have. It’ll break the curse not only for me, but every Asli and Ozim that might fall in love again after us in some other part of the world and keep dozens of Ozims to die because of a curse.
“So Layla, I have some news.”
“Me too,” she says tapping on my chest. “But you go first.”
“Our situation is a curse,” I say throwing the words out.
“How did you find out? I was begging Emmeline to give me the permission to tell you and you already knew?” she says flabbergasted turning around with a hand in the air.
“I found out yesterday. I met up with a family member who had done research on us. And who is Emmeline?”
“She is the caster of my family, do you know about that?”
“Yeah, I know everything. I know about the original witch who put the curse, why my sister was killed, how the curse didn’t work on me, how the caster didn’t realize you were an Asli when she made everyone forget you and I know how to break this curse.”
She gasps and turns her head towards me. “How do we break the curse?”
My voice cracks and I hate that she makes me feel so weak, but I know there is only one reason she does. “I need to leave. As in leaving Tampa for a long time,” I say looking at the water rushing around following the current.
Her lower lip quivers as she stares at me. I stare at our intertwined fingers and avoid her look. I can tell by the breath she takes that the she must want to cry and I hate for hurting her too.
“Why, Aiden? I told you that you are the only thing I have.”
“You have Emmeline now and look. I don’t know if you know this, but every person who is forgotten is destined to die a miserable death as well. It isn’t suicide. You’ll die if I don’t do this. My memories of you at night are getting shorter and the gaps of my memory of you keep getting bigger during the day.”
She looks at me shocked, probably because I hadn’t told her about my recurring memory dreams. I just continue pouring everything out before I decide I am making a fool out of myself.
“I can’t risk forgetting forever. This might save us. Your life, my sanity and people might even start remembering you again slowly.”
She walks towards a massive tree that has been at this riverside since I have been a child and leans her back on it.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” she groans.
“Layla, don’t you get that I am doing this for you? So you could live. You will die if I don’t!”
“Tell me the truth. This isn’t just for me. You want to escape this lifestyle and your parents and knowing me but having to remember that you don’t know our childhood together and everything about us before the party kills you.”
“No, Layla! Damn it!” I yell punching the tree behind her. Pieces of bark that got crushed from my punch fall of the trunk and my knuckles are scarred. I have both hands on the trunk, letting it hold my body’s weight, leaving only an inch or two between both our faces. Her eyes still wide, her breaths uneven from the shock of my punch and every word I am throwing at her.
“I want you to live. I don’t want to leave you, but I couldn’t survive knowing that your face, your horrible jokes and the way you love popcorn will not shine the face of Earth anymore.”
She avoids my eyes and puts a hand on my chest.
“You made me feel again. I was numb to everything since my sister’s death and you made me feel, one emotion in particular that I had never felt before.”
I can hear her breath catch. Her hand on my chest makes me uneasy because I fear she’ll be able to feel my heart beating to the sound of our vagabonding emotions. We are so close I think I can feel hers too. She raises her head to look straight in my eyes. Her eyes are filled tears and when she starts to speak, they spill.
“I’m so scared.”
I throw my head down and look at our feet in relief. I raise my head again and caress her with my hand slowly brushing against her cheek. Wash away the tears I had caused her to let fall. I slowly approach my lips to hers.
I am not good with emotions and I wasn’t sure what I felt for her was love until this morning. When I realized I didn't want to be so far away from her and that I didn't want to hurt her. Feeling like this for someone you only met weeks ago should clearly mean love right?
It’s when she gives the kiss back, when we exchange our pain and love, when the electricity sparks in my body and I realize that leaving her might be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do.
“We’ll be okay,” I say.
-
The two weeks to the end of my junior year pass by too quickly if you ask me. The relatively good grades and the absence of crazy helped me get my parents to accept my departure. I told them it was for the best. It would keep me safe and Layla alive, but I am sure they are just happy I will be far from Layla who is still the ultimate and indelible threat to their eyes.
I drag my suitcase down the passage way to security wondering if Layla would be mad at me for leaving without saying goodbye. That day by the river was my goodbye and I just wish she knows that. We told each other we love one another, in our own way, but what happened next? We spent two weeks apart and I now leave for a trip across the Atlantic and who knows if I'll be back in time for senior year.
My phone vibrates in my pockets and I hope it's the little raven head I cannot stop thinking about.
Her picture and name flash on the screen and a sense of certainty and joy fill me up.
"Hey."
"Aiden, I was so sure you'd already have put your phone in airplane mode. You know, being the freaky overly prepared and always a step ahead guy I know."
"Seems like you wanted to tell me something important?"
"No, I just wanted to hear your voice, which is important in its own way."
"Hearing yours is too," I answer lifting my luggage and putting it on the conveyer belt that goes through the metal detector.
"Be careful okay. I don't what you'll be doing exactly that's why I am a bit scared."
"Don't okay? It's a humanitarian project. I've always wanted to go on one. Obviously I would want you here with me, but it's for the best."
I hear her sigh loudly.
"Sir, your passport please," the clerk sitting behind the glass says.
I slide my passport towards him under the glass. He stamps it and yells "Next!" before I leave the line, my luggage safely gone.
"Aiden, I don't think you are on a humanitarian project."
"It's different from others, but I really am meeting a group there."
"I am not saying I fully believe you, but I trust you to come back in one piece, if you do decide to come back," she says her voice shaking. I hate to do this to her.
"I will be back, for you. And I'll bring you back with me when all is well."
"Let's hope so."
"FLIGHT 55 TO PROVENCE, FRANCE IS NOW BOARDING" the intercom yells.
"By the sound of it, you must go now," Layla says breaking the silence.
"How did you know I have...?”
"Last time we talked on the phone I heard someone tell you that the tickets for Provence were ready. I knew you were not going to Puerto Rico. Whatever you are lying about I hope it's not going to get you killed because I know you're hiding it because I won't like it."
"It is true, you won't."
"Aiden, say it to me. Before it's too late."
"So dramatic," I say with a chuckle.
"I'm serious, Aiden. I have faith in your judgment and bad ass fighting skills, but some things are inevitable. Say it, please."
She is crying now. My heart is pounding in my rib cage and my throat goes dry.
"Don't cry Layla please..."
She doesn't stop crying thinking I won't say the words back and that I am just like any other guy but she wouldn't get the satisfaction of being right this time though I know she wouldn't want to be.
"I—I love you.”
She takes in a sharp breath, “Dude, the three words were not that."
My smile falls even though I think she might be joking.
"What were they then?"
"Eat some popcorn."
"That is horrible and that will never become the three iconic words."
"Sure, they will in our world."
I stay silent not sure how to respond.
"I am kidding. That was so horrible, I should have come up with something better," she says laughing. "Be safe, Aiden. Love you too."
I wonder if she meant it in the same way I had. "I will. Bye."
I don't want to believe that this curse brought us together. I want to believe that we found our way to each other instead of a supernatural force pulling us to each other like magnets.
Provence is hiding the ruins of an Ozim Mansion that keeps all the secrets to our families. There must be something greater I can find. I might find some way for me to break curse without staying away, because the way the curse breaks is if I never go back.
-
written by sarah, edited by yas