Escapism (The Escapism Series) (11 page)

   I VT’d Calliope once I was semi-dressed in a slip, hopeful that she’d calm my nerves.

  “What’re you up to?” I asked, while narrowing down my dress options to two.

  “I was napping, and now I’m talking to you. What’s up?”

  “I’m having a glass of wine and getting dolled up for my date. Outfit  number one or two?” I asked, placing each option over me one after the other.

  “Wine and men—they go so well together,” she reflected, giggling. “Number one.”

  Calliope switched from VT’ing to calling. “When is Nicholas picking you up?” she asked just as I picked up the call.

  “Soon.” I felt more anxious with every minute that passed. “I’m so nervous, Cal. I’m going on a date with a college boy—man—
college man
? What if it’s awkward?” I asked, distressed.

  “Just be yourself, Xeni. He’s obviously into you. Just go with the flow,” she advised.

  I took another sip of wine, comforted by Calliope’s assurance. “It’s just that he’s so intimidating. When I’m around him, I’m a blundering fool.”

  “I’m so excited for you! I can’t recall the last time you’d fallen hard for a guy aside from your mini-crushes. I think you’re falling in love.”

  “Do I want to fall in love so fast?”

  “That’s usually how love rolls, sister. It’s unpredictably fantastic. Of course, I’m expecting all the deets about your date tonight.”

  I smiled, pulling back my hair while looking in the mirror.

  “I’ll force you to spill the beans one way or another. You know how I like me a good old spillage.”

  “What are you doing tonight?” I asked.

  “I’m going to play pool downtown with Marla and Landon.”

  “Oh, nice. Have fun,” I said, before the doorbell rang. “He’s here! Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need luck. Just play it cool,” she encouraged, shrewdly. “Make me proud.”

  “Bye, Cal,” I giggled, feeling at ease.

  I grabbed my keys and purse, before I opened the front door.

  “Hi,” Nicholas whispered, standing tall and dressed exceptionally well.

  “Would you like to come in?” I asked, nervously.

  “I’d like to, but we’re going to be late for the show,” he explained.

  “Show? Where are you taking me, Mr. Wyles?”

  “We’re going to an old opera house. It’s used as a forum for those in search of fragments.”

   “Like you. Sounds
fun
,” I twisted a lock of hair between my fingers. I had anxiously rushed, preparing my hair and clothes, all for a night in a spooky opera house most likely filled with dead people’s souls—not exactly what I had in mind.

  “We won’t be there for too long, Xenia. I promise. We’re still having our date, but I was hoping you could keep an eye out for my—”

  “
Right
. How could I forget about your lost fragment. I’m your Charon after all,” I replied wearily. “Let’s go. I’ve got a room full of souls to rummage through.”

  “Thank you.” Nicholas closed the door behind us.

 
So much for an old-fashioned date
.

  The car ride was quiet—it was the perfect opportunity to ask a looming question. “That night you stayed over, why’d you leave in the morning without saying goodbye?” I asked, warily.

  “I heard your parents get in. I didn’t want to cause any trouble,” he whispered.

  “We didn’t do anything to get in any trouble,” I said, sourly. “Besides, I’m an adult and a responsible one at best. I’d live on res but I’m trying to not dig myself into a bigger debt ridden hole.”

  Nicholas smirked and looked away.

  “What is it?” I asked, unable to read him.

  “You’re not like other’s your age.”

  “Thanks. Wait, what do you mean?”  

  “You’re not reckless—I meant it as a compliment,” he said, smiling angelically.

  “Oh, okay. Thanks,” I said, appeased.

  We got out of the car, and Nicholas hesitated, studying my every move, every flinch.

  “We don’t have to go if you’re afraid,” he said, holding my trembling hand between his.

  I decided then and there, that I would fulfill my duty and stop fighting the inevitable.

  “Let’s get going. I have a fragment to track,” I said, forcing a smile. “Our date better be spectacular.”

  He smiled and led me toward an eerie abandoned mansion. The show started soon after we entered, almost as if they waited upon us. The place was elegant with its Elizabethan décor, beautiful red curtains, and glistening stage. The lights went off simultaneously, followed by a loud thump. We were relieved of the darkness, as candles were lit and placed around the stage. The room was cold enough that everyone’s frosty breath became visible.

  With a dramatic start, a light shone on a little boy standing center stage.

  “How the depths of my soul led me here, I shall never know. I’ve fallen in what appears to be an endless hole in life, and I am here before you. I plead to you all—
help me
.”

  The audience leaned back in its seats as the boy walked toward the end of the stage where he stood, staring straight before him as his black eyes encircled the room. He stepped down from the stage and walked around the aisles. In an instant, he vanished before our eyes and the room filled with a low rumbling as the inhabitants mumbled in an uproar. Soon, the room became silent as the little boy reappeared before me.

  Nicholas looked ahead, unaffected.

  “It is her!” he exclaimed, fervently.

  The audience looked in anticipation, shifting in their seats to observe.

  “Who are you?” I asked, astonished.

  “I’m Lucas,” he whispered.

  It was the same child that appeared in my room, except his eyes were pitch black crescents.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” he replied, in a raspier voice.

  “You have?” I asked, stunned.

  He shut his eyes, and an angry gust of wind struck a stack of papers, dispersing them throughout the frosty room. He reopened his eyes, and his fiery gaze knocked the wind straight out of me. He vanished before the crowd immediately thereafter.

  As the candles eerily relit, a little girl appeared. She played with a porcelain doll, center stage.

  “My mommy gave me this pretty doll. She looks just like me, don’t you think?” All she asked was rhetorical, as if the stage was in a room filled by no one. She hummed silently, while she ran her fingers through the doll’s hair. The doll had a piece of porcelain missing in the place of the left eye.

  The doll slowly disappeared, and the little girl stood up in a fearful frenzy, stirring chaos amongst the crowd. In tears, she ran from corner to corner until she finally broke down in the center. She soon vanished, but her sobs intermixed with faint whispers of the name,
Daisy
.

  The candles surrounding the stage were blown out again by another gust of wind. The mansion lit up with a succession of florescent lights and the stage was unoccupied. The room filled with noise as the audience slowly cleared out.

  Nicholas immediately stood up and walked down the aisle. Turning back, he asked, “Are you coming, beautiful?”

  I looked up at him and then around me. The auditorium that had initially appeared brilliantly decorated, was now stripped and decayed. As we left the mansion, Nicholas reached for my hand. We walked to the car, hand in hand, without so much as a word. Oddly enough, I felt closer to him than I had ever before.

  “Was it too much? Being in a room filled with Diplozoes?” he asked.

  “It was intense to say the least,” I whispered, stroking his hand between my own.

  “It’s all about control. We choose to travel or to stay grounded in the very moment of the world we reside in,” he said, sharply. “From the shock you’ve just experienced, it’s not surprising that you’re grounded in this very moment.”

  “So practice makes perfect, right?”

  “Precisely,” he softly said, kissing the top of my hand. “So, did you happen to see—” he started, however I cut him off quickly thereafter.

  “Nope.  Sorry.  Can we have our date now?” I eluded. “And where are you taking me? Somewhere equally conspicuous?” I asked, apprehensive about our next venture, justifiably.

  “First, we’re going shopping. How’s that for you?” he grinned, sheepishly.

  I smiled, appeased. Although shopping wasn’t what I had in mind, anything was better than the creepy mansion show.

  After conquering Saturday night traffic with all the clubbers and bar-hoppers heading in our direction—we arrived downtown.

  We parked in front of a series of unfamiliar shops nearby the carnival grounds—an annual autumn event. First, we entered a small antique shop. We browsed through an endless array of seemingly old items that possessed a priceless air to them. The storekeeper crept up behind us, and I jumped at the sound of his voice.

  “Be careful with that vase! It’s been around for a century. If you have cash, then you can buy it,” he mumbled. “I could care less what happens to it then.”

  “Oh. Sorry, sir, I—” I muttered, awkwardly before Nicholas jumped in to the rescue. 

  “She was merely appreciating the intricate artistic craftsmanship, that’s all. We won’t cause any trouble,” he said.

  The storekeeper furrowed his brow, continuing to monitor our every touch. We giggled like schoolchildren under supervision.

  “What do you say we check out the carnival?” Nicholas asked, lightheartedly.

   “Rigged carnival games, loads of cotton candy, and candied apples—exactly my kind of scene,” I responded, spiritedly.

  “To the carnival!” he announced, amused.

  “I just knew we had more in common,” I smirked. 

  Once there, I challenged him to a basketball shootout. He tickled me at every opportunity, attempting to throw off my aim. Naturally, I won.

  “Would you do me the honor?” I asked him to select the stuffed animal prize—a little unorthodox for an old-fashioned carnival date, yet it was somehow perfectly suited as nothing was conventional about that night.

  “A big ladybug?” I asked, astonished.

  “Would you have preferred something, I don’t know, fluffier?”

  “No, it’s just that most guys go for the traditional teddy bear or something.”

  “Oh.”

  “But I really like ladybugs,” I assured with slow precision, “really, really. Like. Them.”

  “You’re just saying that,” he whispered. “I’m not good at these kinds of things.”

  “You’re good. If anything,
too good
. Look,” I said, pulling Nicholas aside.

  I raised the side of my shirt to expose my lower right ribs where a tattoo of a small red and black ladybug was located.

  “I got it done in senior year. There was this girl in my class, Isla. We were both in the same art class one year. I knew her ever since kindergarten, but we hung out with different crowds as we got older. She was always absent and I thought she skipped a lot, but later on, I found out she had leukemia. The day she no longer attended school, I looked through her art portfolio—she was so talented.

  During every art class, she sketched a little ladybug in the column of her notes or on her binder—it made me smile,” I paused to catch my breath before continuing, “I visited her one day in the hospital, bringing flowers. I couldn’t get over how sick she looked—she didn’t look herself at all.” A single tear trickled down my cheek. “The expression on her face when I showed her the tattoo was priceless. We both laughed and cried, while I held her hand. I knew that her presence in my life would leave a permanent mark in more ways than one. That day, she died, but my memory of her was untainted, all because of this,” I said, looking down at the ladybug.

  Nicholas placed his fingers over top as if tracing its steps along my ribs. I shivered, lowering my shirt.

  “See? This means more to me than a stupid teddy bear,” I said, embracing the stuffed ladybug.

  “Xenia Sanders. You have no idea how amazing you are.”

  “You really think so?” I asked, self-consciously.

  He cupped my face, gently kissing my lips. “Of course,” he wiped the trace of tears from my cheeks.

  As dusk approached, we walked and talked, while I held a ladybug in each hand.

  “This is nice,” he said, coolly.

  “It is. Thanks for winning me another ladybug.”

  “If you call bribing the carny winning, then you’re welcome,” he grinned, showing his pearly white teeth.

  “Regardless, it was sweet,” I giggled.

  “It’s getting dark. Should I take you home now?” he asked.

  “I guess,” I replied, unsure. Although my feet ached from wearing my unsupportive, yet extremely cute flats, I would have endured the pain awhile longer if it meant I got to spend more time with Nicholas.

  As Nicholas drove me home, I felt like a regular girl again. Just as things began to seem normal, the strangeness resurfaced as reality bit me hard on the ass.

  “Earlier at the show, did you see anything unusual?” he probed, dubiously.

  “You mean the part of you that died and wanders aimlessly unless I reunite you two?”

  “Yes. That part.”

  “No. I mean—I don’t think so. Would you know if you saw it?”

  “We can’t recall our lives prior to death—any of it,” he explained.  “You’ll know once you find it. I don’t want to pressure you, Xenia.”

  “I understand—believe me. I get it. I’m your Charon after all.”

  He pulled up into my driveway and parked.

  “Thanks for tonight. I’ll let you know once I come across something.”

  “Thank you, Xenia,” he brushed my hair over my shoulder, kissing me softly. I pressed into him, kissing him harder.

  He grinned, delighted. “You’re making it hard for me to leave.”

  “That’s a good thing,” I teased, kissing him again.

  “Xenia,” he whispered. “I have something I’d like to ask you.”

  I pulled back, eager to hear what he had to say.

  “Even though you’re my Charon, you’re more than that. You mean a lot to me and—”

  “Nicholas Wyles. Are you asking me to go steady?” I said, teasingly.

  “I’d like it very much if you’d be my girlfriend.”

  My skin shivered in excitement. “Yes,” I uttered, playfulness aside. 

  “Good,” he sighed deeply in contentment.

  He wished me goodnight before taking off.

  My insides screamed with delight as I officially had, not only a sophisticated college boyfriend, but an amazingly gorgeous boyfriend.

  The fact that we were both Diplozoes had not even crossed my mind for that brief moment of sheer oblivion when he expressed the words, will you be my girlfriend? I wanted to say, yes, times a million.

  I recapped the details that I absolutely could not share with Marla or Calliope: Firstly, a date at a Diplozoe hangout where I was sought out by missing fragments. Secondly, the part about being Nicholas’ Charon. The parts I could share were being at the antique shop and carnival. The fact that I was now his girlfriend was definitely shareworthy. My internal debate persisted—should I be mixing work with pleasure? Something I definitely needed to sleep on.