Unbound (6 page)

His
smile was thin. “Not even kryptonite can end my life before I choose it to
end.”

“I
see,” I nodded, despite feeling as if I suddenly saw nothing at all.

Immortal
?
What did that really mean? “How old are you?” I tried to keep my voice neutral.

“Older
than you.” His tone was humorless and he locked his eyes back on the ducks.

I
rolled my eyes. “Thanks. Very helpful.”

He
turned to look at me again, his expression serious. “I don’t want to frighten
you.”

“A
bit late for that, isn’t it?” I had, after all, spent a great deal of my life
wondering if I was psychotic.

His
jaw clenched tightly, but he closed his eyes and nodded.
 
“I was born in the year 634,” he said
finally, speaking without inflection.

“Oh.”
My voice caught and I cleared my throat. History was my speciality, but I
couldn’t in that moment fathom the stretch of time he was describing. “Would
that be A.D.?”

He
opened his eyes. “Yes, A.D.” He may have been trying to suppress a smile.

“I
see,” I said again. My brain limped along behind the conversation, trying to process
more than just the sounds of the words.

He
raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking this rather well.”

“Only
because I’m still not sure you’re real.” My smile was weak, as I had begun to
entertain the possibility that I was in the midst of serious breakdown.

He
exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry. This is why...” He stopped, shook his head. “I
know it must seem hard to believe.”

“Beats
the alternative.” I shrugged.

“Which
is?”

“That
I’m crazy.”

“Trust
me Rachel. You aren’t crazy.” He looked at me curiously. “I thought this would
be…harder for you to accept.”
 

“I’m
not finished yet,” I said. I needed to know more.

He
motioned for me to continue.

 
“Why have you been following me?”

 
He shook his head. “That’s a bit more
complicated.”

“I’m
pretty quick,” I said.

He
looked away again and the silence settled over us. After a few minutes he
looked back towards me and I felt my breath catch at what I saw in his eyes. “I’m
drawn to you.”

“I
don’t understand.”

“There
is no reason you should.”
 

“Then
explain it to me.” I couldn’t imagine a sane reason that anyone would be drawn
to me. My life up until this point had been amazingly ordinary. Eaden had
provided the only real mystery in nearly two decades of mundane life.

“Immortality
is a lonely existence. My…uniqueness
imposes
restrictions on my interactions with
others. Over the years I’ve come to grasp that it’s not really sensible for me
to form relationships with…mortals.” His eyes were neutral, revealing nothing
about how he might feel.
 
“My life isn’t
like yours, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t wish it was.”

He
hesitated, seeming self-conscious about this confession and we lapsed back into
silence.

My
thoughts swam as I struggled to understand everything he’d just said.
 
“How long have you been watching me?”

“You
were a precocious child,” he said, avoiding my eyes and my question. “Full of
energy and quick to learn. You nearly fell in that pond once trying to catch
the ducks.” He smiled at the memory.

I
knew this story of course. My father had told it to me several times.

“I
was only two when that happened,” I said. Had this man really been in my life
that long?

He
continued. “Your parents came to this park a lot after you were born. They
would sit here,” he touched the bench, “and talk while you slept in your
carriage. Your family seemed so human, so normal.” He rubbed the back of his
head, his hand making his hair stick up wildly. “I envied the three of you more
than I thought possible. The longer I watched you, the harder it became to
stop. Your family helped me feel tied to the world – connected in a way I
that I hadn’t allowed myself to be in hundreds of years.”

He
was silent again for a time. “It was a pleasure to witness your childhood,
Rachel. I felt honoured to be a part of it in some small way.”

I
had nothing to say, but the loneliness I had carried with me since my father
died, ebbed slightly. Someone else knew my story. I wasn’t sure why that felt
important, but it did.

“Do
you remember the first time we met?” he asked.

“In
the mall?” I thought back to the memories I had of his strong hand in mine.

“Yes,”
he nodded, his expression dark. “It was a mistake. I hadn’t meant...it was very
irresponsible to have revealed myself to you in that way. There are strong
prohibitions against...” He stopped. “Afterwards, I told myself that it
wouldn’t happen again. That I wouldn’t interfere with your life.”

I
couldn’t take my eyes off him, no longer caring whether or not I was staring.

“I’m
not proud of myself, Rachel. My behaviour has been reckless beyond reason. I
had convinced myself that simply observing your life would be enough, that I
wouldn’t be compelled to interact with you.” He frowned. “It was very wrong of
me. After your father died... you were so sad. I wanted to offer you some
comfort in return for...” His shook his head. “There is no excuse.”

“And
after that?” I wondered how much he knew.

He
raked a hand through his hair again, dragging the spikes in the other direction
like a cat rubbed backward, but his words were quiet. “I saw what happened to
your mother, saw how you responded. I told myself that by staying in your life,
I was making it easier for you.” His voice was filled with self-reproach. “But I’ve
been incredibly selfish and I’m truly sorry.”

 
I felt something akin to anger flicker
within my chest. “Are you serious? You’ve saved my life, helped me when I’ve
been hurt, watched over me.” I felt indignant. “Eaden, I wanted you in my life.
Since my father died, the only times I have felt safe are the times that you
were near me. What are you sorry for?”

His
expression was anguished, but his voice was bitter. “Don’t make me a hero,
Rachel. I’m not. Believe me when I say that my regret is justified.”

“I
don’t understand,” I said, frustrated.

“I
hope you never will.” He stood and faced me. “Can you trust me?”

Looking
down to shield myself from the intensity of his gaze, I realized my hands were
shaking and hid them in my lap. Could I trust him? I think I already did. I
nodded.

“I’m
going to make this right,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he was reassuring himself
or me. He extended his hand. “Let me walk you to work.”

“Um,
sure.” I’d forgotten about work. I tried to reconcile the knowledge that the
man standing across from me was a supernatural being with the knowledge that
I’d be shelving books for the rest of the day.

I
grabbed his hand, feeling my heart stutter at the touch of his skin on mine.
The heat rose into my face and I pulled my hair down to hide it as we walked. “Can
I ask you another question?”

He
nodded.
 

“What
happened that morning in Sam’s store? Who were those men?”

           
 
“I’m not entirely sure.” Eaden’s mouth
twisted slightly. “ But I think your friend Sam had gotten himself into trouble
at the racetrack. Those two gentlemen were there to encourage him to be
timelier with his payments.”

           
“Oh.”
Realization dawned on me slowly. No wonder he had been so scared. “Poor Sam.”

           
“I
don’t believe it was their intention to really harm him, only to frighten him,”
he said. He watched me carefully after he spoke, as if appraising the effect
his words had upon me.

           
“I
think it worked,” I said mildly.

His
mouth pulled up at one corner in a wary smile. “Your arrival and the police
visit across the street were an unfortunate coincidence. I think they were
afraid you might expose them by alerting the officers outside.”

I
nodded again. I would have.

“Why
did they leave?” There had been a gun. I remembered the hard press of cold
steel between my shoulder blades.

He
carefully avoided my eyes. “I convinced the man with the gun that it would be best
if he came back later.”

“How
did you manage that?”

“I
merely implied that I was aware of a few transgressions on his part. Unfavourable
things he might not want the people he works with to know about.” He sounded
almost embarrassed.

“Why,
what had he done?”

“I
have no idea,” he admitted, “but almost fifteen hundred years of observing
human behaviour has its advantages. He seemed very likely to be the sort of
person who has done things he shouldn’t.” His grin was wry. “I happen to be an
excellent judge of character.”

“But
why were you there?”

He
looked at me, his serious gaze unflinching. “For you,” he said simply.

My
heart stumbled for a beat or two before taking off again.

I didn’t know where to look so I nodded at the
ground, feeling a warm glow spread through my chest.

Stopping
on the corner beside the library, he held my arms, his gaze serious. “Rachel,
you must promise me you will take care of yourself for the next few days.”

My
stomach tightened. “Why?”

“Well,
what sort of guardian angel would I be if I didn’t take care of you?”

“You’re
making fun of me now.”

“Yes,”
he said. “I am.” His smile was playful.
 

But
I was unsettled. Was he saying goodbye? Now, after everything he had just told
me? Unnerved, I shivered in the sunshine, wrapping my arms around my
waist.
 

“Promise
me,” he repeated, “promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

“Fine,
I promise,” I said, feeling exasperated. “Are you leaving?” I tried to push
away the dread that washed over me at the thought of never seeing him again.

 
“Only for a little while.”

“Where
are you going?” I hated that I sounded like a child and hated more that he must
think of me as one.

His
expression was neutral, but his eyes were guarded. “There is something
important I must attend to, something that cannot wait another day.” He
softened. “I didn’t reveal myself only to abandon you, Rachel.
 
I will be back.”

“You’d
better.” I tried to smile and failed.

“Be
well.” Tenderly, he leaned forward and placed his lips against my forehead,
then turned and swiftly strode away. He didn’t look back.

I
watched him leave, feeling torn between my disappointment at his departure and
elation at the promise in his words and the feeling of his lips on my skin. I walked
up the stairs feeling more hopeful than I’d felt in years. But just as
frightened. Now there was more to lose.

The
next morning, I opened my eyes and stretched luxuriously, pushing the duvet
down to bunch around my feet in response to the sunshine that fell across my
bed through the open curtains. Traces of my dream still clung to me like
scented oil. Although specific details had faded upon awakening, the flavour of
the dream was still very present, and I felt flushed as I rummaged through the
lingering mental images.

Biting
my lip to keep from grinning, I wondered what Eaden had dreamt about last night.
But my mirth faded quickly as I considered how unlikely it was that I would be
a key player in any of his dreams. Despite his very tangible presence
yesterday, he had seemed so annoyingly careful around me. I had to face the
very real possibility that he regarded me as child. And how could I blame him?
We were all children compared to him.
Immortal
?
I shook my head. Well, it wasn’t any stranger than being an angel. And the good
news was that I hadn’t invented him, and I wasn’t losing my mind. And being with
him made me feel like an entirely different person.

Rolling
over, I looked at the clock and sighed. Time to get up. But by the time my feet
hit the floor a tiny seed of defiance had sprouted within me. Glancing out the
window, I confirmed that we’d been granted another sunny autumn day. A stay of
execution from the colder winds and rain that could be expected over the next
few weeks.

On
impulse, I dashed to my laptop and before I could change my mind, rapidly typed
an email to Jane, telling her that I was sick and wouldn’t be able to work
today. Without even double-checking my spelling, I hit send. Instantly
nauseated, I sat down with my hands on my stomach. I’d never skipped a class,
never mind played hooky from work. I rarely called in sick, even when I really
was. What the hell was I doing?
 

Breathe, Rachel
,
I reminded myself as the panic bubbled up and my breathing accelerated.
You can do this.
Closing my eyes,
I thought of Eaden and imagined sitting
beside him on the bench, imagined the slant of his jaw, his slightly crooked
nose, his grey eyes. Taking slow, deep breaths, I tried to recreate the
pervasive sense of calm I usually felt in his presence. Surprisingly, after a
few moments, the panic subsided to a reasonable level.

After
a quick shower, I dressed and left the building, returning only once –
once!
– to make sure the front
door was locked. Relishing the cool morning air and the bright blue of the sky,
I stopped for my morning coffee and sat on the outdoor patio. Sipping the
scalding black liquid, I watched the crowds of commuters as they rushed by on
their way to work. The atmosphere felt lighter today, less hectic. People
seemed more tolerant than usual; their faces open to each other as they walked
their routes by rote. Most likely the combined result of glorious sunshine and
the impending weekend. For once, I could almost understand that sense of
elation that made people repeat inane slogans such as “TGIF”. Finishing my
coffee and joining them on the street, I headed to the big-box bookstore that
had finally, after much placard waving and petition signing, infiltrated the
urban centre.

Grabbing
a newspaper, I headed for my usual armchair in the far corner of the store and
settled in. Several gang-related shootings and one multi-vehicle crash later, my
thoughts drifted from catastrophe to Eaden. He had said there was something
important he had to take care of. What was it that made him seem so desperately
grim? I remembered the look on his face as he sat beside me, remembered the way
his nearness had made me catch my breath, the way my hands shook, the feel of
his lips on my forehead before he’d left me yesterday. My hand floated up to
touch the skin he had pressed his lips against, as if I could somehow feel the
trace of his kiss.

Giving
my head a quick shake, I brought myself back to the present. No sense in
torturing myself with futile hopes. But trying to read through the headlines in
the next paper, I soon found myself restless again. My morning ritual wasn’t
nearly as soothing as it usually was. Perfunctorily, I read through the last
two papers, barely even registering the grim disasters shouting at me from the
front page. Unsatisfied, I put the papers back and began to weave through the
stacks on my way to the exit. A sign in the reference section caught my
attention and I halted, curious. Standing in front of a shelf of books on
anti-aging, I trailed my fingers over the titles.
 
With a quick glance both ways down the
aisle, I pulled out a heavy book with a glossy cover entitled
Immortality: How Science Can Help Us Live
Forever
, and as nonchalantly as I could, walked to the closest chair and
sat down. Turning to the first chapter called “Secrets of Immortality” I began
to read...

“Good
morning!”

Startled,
I jumped out of the chair, the heavy book spilling to the floor.

“I’m
so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” A store clerk with spiky orange hair and
an overwhelming toothy smile leaned down to pick up my book. Glancing at the
title, she handed it back to me. I felt my cheeks flush and got to my feet
quickly.

“Just
wanted to let you know that all of our reference books are 30% off today,” she
said enthusiastically.

“Thanks,”
I said. Feeling my cheeks flame, I made a hasty retreat to the front door,
dropping the book on a display table near the exit.
Ridiculous
, I chided myself. Did I really think I could find out
more about Eaden from a book?

Back
outside, I wandered along the streets, content to watch people moving about
their lives. Recognizing it was inevitable, I let my thoughts turn to Eaden
again.
 
I realized that he had
probably spent a good part of his very long life doing just this –
watching people live. There was irony here, that we had this in common. For the
last five years of my life, I’d been too afraid to participate, content to
glimpse the lives of others through books or from the sidelines. Quite the
opposite, Eaden was forced to be a passive witness, longing so much for a
typical existence that he had secretly shadowed my family just to feel tied in
some way to the human condition.
 
It
suddenly struck me as wasteful, that I had squandered so many opportunities to
be an active participant in my own life, while his demanded a kind of isolation
he regretted.

The
ringing of my cellphone pulled me away from continuing this line of thinking.

“Rachel!
Where are you?” Lacey asked, her usually loud voice louder than ever. “Why
aren’t you at work?”

“How
do you know I’m not at work?” I silently congratulated myself on avoiding her
first question.

“Because
I called looking for you and nearly had a coronary when they said that you
weren’t there. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.
I called in sick.”

“You
don’t sound sick.”

“Well,
I’m not, really,” I said, feeling the guilt and anxiety resurface. My chest
tightened.

“Are
you kidding me?”

 
Wincing, I pulled the phone away from my
ear.

“This
is fantastic! So, what are you doing? Reorganizing your bookshelves?”

“I’m
downtown,” I said, slightly annoyed with her insinuation. Was I that
predictable?

“You’re
downtown,” she repeated, sceptical. A wondering note crept into her voice.
“Rachel...did you meet a boy?”

I
was glad she couldn’t see the blush I felt colouring my cheeks. She was
uncanny.

“Um,
no.” Truthfully, no one would ever call Eaden a boy.

“Is
it that nice boy Adam?” she asked, her voice a perfect imitation of my
mother.
 
Lacey thought Adam was too
dull for words. My mother thought Adam was my future husband.

“No,
I haven’t spoken to Adam since he left.” After a lukewarm romance last year,
we’d broken up before he left for college in September. Truth was, after the
nervousness and the newness had subsided, I’d never felt much more than
fondness for him. Our goodbye had been friendly rather than tragic. He had
thought he was saving me heartache by suggesting our break up; I was relieved I
wouldn’t need to make excuses to avoid staying in his dorm room.

“You’re
holding out on me, Ray.”

I
sighed. “Can we talk about this tonight?” It was Friday, which meant Lacey
would be coming over for dinner. My mom always took the evening and overnight
shifts at the hospital on the weekend, giving the other nurses with families
time with their loved ones.

“Okay,
but I’m going to want details.”

“Fine,
yes. Later.” Anything to end this conversation before I had time to think about
what I was going to say.

Hanging
up, I wondered how on earth I was going to hold her off. Eaden had not
explicitly asked me not to say anything to anyone, but this certainly wasn’t
something I could explain, seeing as I didn’t really understand it myself.
Although, I had to admit, Lacey was one of the only people I could think of who
would actually believe me if I did tell her.

Without
really intending to, I found myself wandering closer and closer to the park, my
feet clearly speaking for my heart. It was hard to believe that only yesterday,
Eaden and I had spent the morning together. Sensing it was pointless to try to
keep him from my thoughts, I gave in, some part of me hoping that I would feel
closer to him. Some part of me hoping that despite his announcement that he was
leaving, he would be waiting for me there.

Plunking
myself down on the same bench we’d sat on yesterday, I watched as two small
children ran circles around each other on the grass. Squealing delightedly,
they chased each other, only to fall down and start all over again. The bigger
child occasionally helped the smaller one to her feet and laughed wildly when
she fell down again. Their play seemed so effortless that I was jealous of
their uncomplicated friendship. It had always been more difficult for me to
feel at ease with people outside of my family. Hopelessly self-conscious, I was
too reserved, too afraid to be vulnerable and take risks. Even Lacey had to
make a supreme effort to stay connected with me. It was due only to her
stubborn and spirited nature that we remained friends. Others would have given
up. Others had.

If
Jacob had lived, if I’d had a brother to share my life with, would that still
have been true? Would he have provided a bridge across the gap that existed
between me and the rest of the world? Or was I once again imagining a guardian
where none existed, as Alex had suggested? Selfishly, I would have liked the
opportunity to find out what his life might have meant for my own. If Jacob’s
life might have made me feel less afraid of loss.

My
attention was caught by a smiling mother sitting close by on the grass playing
pat-a-cake with her baby. The tiny girl sat unsteady and unsupported, her
chubby arms and legs waving frantically with glee. She giggled uproariously as
her mother tickled her tummy at the end of the rhyme and then caught her
smoothly as she toppled over to one side, grinning. It occurred to me that
Eaden may have been here, watching my mother and I play, just as I now watched
this twosome. Did he sit on this very bench while we played on the grass? Did
she play with me at all? I wondered if my mother had ever seemed that happy.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

 
“The training wheels need to come off,
Joel,” my mother had announced as my father walked in the front door. I had
heard him sigh as set his briefcase down.

Slumping
lower in the dining room chair where I did my homework, I glowered at my
mother’s back where she prepared dinner in the kitchen. The sounds of my
father’s footsteps in the kitchen were followed by a gleeful shriek of protest.

“Cut
that out!” My mother swatted him with the dish towel, two pink spots on her
cheeks standing out against the olive green scrubs she still wore.

“Hey,
Rabbit,” my father said as he leaned down and kissed my cheek. His scratchy
beard and moustache made it hard for me to continue to pout; it made me want to
giggle.

“How
was your day?”

Crossing
my arms, I glared at my mother who had come to stand in the door frame. “Bad.”

He
raised an eyebrow and my mother threw her hands in the air. “Rachel is sulking
because I reminded her she can’t ride her bicycle at the fair unless those
training wheels come off.” She emphasized the last two words.

The
removal of my training wheels had become a contentious issue last summer when,
after a bad fall and a skinned knee, I had begged to have them put back on.
Every attempt to remove them this spring had resulted in tears. My mother, ever
practical, had suggested we work towards a deadline. That deadline was up last
week.

My
father pulled a chair up to the table.

“When’s
the bike fair, Rabbit?”

“Friday.”
I said the word like an accusation.