Reflections of Love Read online

  I take in a large gulp of the air and instantly become intoxicated by it. Back at my desk, I bang out the last few sentences, ending the chapter, and call it a night.

  I try to stifle another yawn. “Alright, time to get some sleep.” I shut off the computer and walk toward the bed, already dressed in my pajama bottoms and t-shirt.

  I flip the switch on my bedside lamp, and pull the covers over me. Another yawn and good-hearted stretch, and I’m out like a light. Sleep descends, and my dreams come alive.

  For a period of time after Rae’s death, I dreamt of her plane crash, often waking in fits of sweat and screaming out her name; desperately reaching over to an empty side of the bed and reliving the loss all over again. Thankfully, I rarely have those dreams anymore, but I still dream of her, and my heart still aches at her loss. My memory muscles have not gotten used to not finding her next to me when I wake in the morning, or when I shift in the bed and feel the vast loneliness.

  Where before, I was afraid to dream of her, now, I find that I long to. It’s the only time when I can feel her, hear her voice, and sometimes I can smell her too. Some mornings, I wake with red-rimmed eyes from the tears I shed before I wake, as my reality settles into my psyche. She is gone, and I am left with just her memory, and it all but destroys me.

  Tonight is no different and I, once again, dream of her. In my mind’s eye, she slowly appears and my heart aches when I set my eyes on her; she smiles and walks over to me. Her hand reaches out to touch my face, and I lean in, eyes closed, to savor her touch. But the touch doesn’t come; I open my eyes to see her staring past me. I turn my head in the direction of her gaze and settle on the mirror. She walks past as I reach out for her hand. I want to follow her, but I’m rooted in place. The mirror begins to glow, a light so bright that I have to shield my eyes, for fear of being blinded by it.

  I hear my name, but it isn’t Rae’s voice. I lower my arm to see who is calling my name, but the light…that blasted light is too bright. I can’t see.

  The heat it projects feels like a sun’s rays on a sunny afternoon without shade. Blindly, I walk toward the mirror and scream out Rae’s name.

  “Rae!”

  “Evan…” Her voice sounds far away, and I wildly reach out my hands to touch her.

  Beads of sweat pucker around my upper lip. “Rae!” I call again.

  “Evan, I’m here.”

  The closer I walk toward the mirror, the louder a sound like being in a wind tunnel becomes. Two more steps, and my hands make contact with the mirror. Powerful shock pulses from the mirror into my hands, throwing me twenty feet away, my back slamming against the wall. A rush of air leaves my body, and I slump to the floor in a whoosh.

  “Rae,” I pant, and wait to hear her voice.

  Silence. The room is eerily silent before a calming breeze cloaks me. Goose bumps rise on my arms, and I hear an echoed whisper. “Evan.”

  Startled, I sit up in my bed and place my hand over my pounding heart. I look around my dark room, with the first ray of sunlight coming through the open window. I shiver and glance at the mirror.

  I try to recall my dream, but can only catch slivers of it before they completely fade away, leaving me with nothing but the feeling of loss. I stand and walk to the window, closing the balcony doors. Walking back to my bed, I’m not paying attention, and stub my toe on my bedframe. Hopping around on one foot and screaming a few expletives, I rub my big toe until the pain subsides.

  From the corner of my eye, I can see the mirror and the reflection of my bedroom door ajar, showing a lit hallway.

  I look up and see that my bedroom door is, in fact, closed. Spinning around to the mirror, the door is ajar in the reflection. I stumble backward till my butt hits the foot of the bed.

  In the mirror’s reflection, I see the door opening. I once again turn to look at my actual door, but it remains closed. I rub my eyes and turn back to the mirror, where a woman’s silhouette appears in the doorframe in the mirror; she pauses and closes the door.

  Jumping from my bed, I race to my door and swing it open; the door stopper bangs on the wall. The hallway is dark, so I flip on the switch to light it. I stand in the middle of the hall, glancing both ways to see if the silhouette will come back.

  I listen intently, but can only hear my heartbeat in my eardrums.

  “Hello. Is anyone here?” I scream.

  More silence.

  “Rae? Baby? I’m here.” Anxiousness comes over me as I wait to hear her voice. Please God, let me hear her voice. Not in my dreams, but while I’m awake.

  “Rae. Please baby, let me hear your voice.” I choke on the dense stillness and try not to fall deeper into the hell of despair. I clawed my way out of it months ago, and I dare not tip my toe into that pond again because I know if I do, I surely won’t survive.

  “Raaaaeeee!” Her name leaves my lips like a battering ram. My heart beats a tattoo against my chest.

  I stand there in the dark, for seconds that eventually turn into minutes, waiting for anything, yet fearing it as well. My sanity that seems to have vacated the premises slowly makes its appearance back into my psyche.

  The deep impenetrable fog lifts and common sense awakens me.

  It was just a dream.

  You dreamt of Rae and thought you saw a woman’s image in the mirror.

  I commit to this mantra and repeat it as I walk back into my bedroom, giving the mirror a final glance before I lay down.

  Sleep does not take me this time, but my imagination occupies every inch of my mind. For every excuse I have to believe my imagination, I counter it with a reason not to. It becomes a vicious cycle on repeat, until the workmen arrive a few hours later.

  Knowing I won’t be able to get any rest with the banging and clattering of tools, I decide to rise and start my day.

  Chapter 13

  The plane shifts from side to side and up and down, fierce winds knocking it around like a toy in the hand of God. My stomach lurches and I reach out for her, but the seat is empty. I look up to see Rae, pale and decomposed. She opens her mouth and worms fall out of it; I jump out of my seat and run toward the back of the empty plane.

  “Why did you do it? I loved you, Evan. Why did you kill me?”

  I bang my hands on the lavatory door, pleading with anyone to unlock it and let me in. But the sounds of my knocks blend in with the sounds of the screams from the passengers that aren’t there.

  With my back against the door, I scream, “I didn’t know! I thought I was saving you!”

  She holds her hand up and points to me; a fingertip falls to the ground, and I swallow the bile in my throat. “You killed me. I loved you, and you killed me.”

  “No. No. That is not how it happened.”

  “You never loved me.” Her voice sounds like an echo of voices from others that are no longer with us.

  “I loved you!” I shout, but my voice is drowned out by the warning signals from the plane.

  “I would still be alive if it weren’t for you.”

  Her voice, and its words, impact me, surrounding me in a thick fog of darkness.

  “Come with me.”

  I hear the sweetest voice I ever hear through the darkness. A warm hand clasps on to my own, and I clutch onto it, determined to live.

  “I know the way out. Come with me,” the voice of an angel speaks to me, and I follow.

  “Nooooooooo!” Rae’s voice screeches. I release the angel's hand and hold my palms over my ears, for fear of my eardrums popping.

  “Quickly, there’s no time.” The angel pulls on my elbow, and I stumble my way through the darkness and into the light.

  We follow the beacon of light to the gateway. The doors are open, and we step through them. The doors quickly close behind us, and I collapse to the floor in exhaustion.

  I stare at the hem of a cornflower blue dress that touches the ground. My eyes slowly lift to see a striking woman with curly, jet-black hair that touches her waist. There is a yellow ribbon tied a
t the top of her dress, by the neckline. Her eyes sparkle, the color of sapphires, and her skin the color of a flat white coffee. A tiny heart-shaped birthmark is on her cheek and gives her the look of perfection.

  I open my mouth to speak but my mouth is dry, and I’m lost for words. Wetting my lips, I try again. “Who are you?”

  She opens her mouth to speak, but turns around as if she heard a voice. “I’ve gotta go.” She looks back at me frantically.

  I rise quickly and catch the tip of her fingers; a jolt goes through me, and a light blinds me. “No, don’t leave. Not yet. Please. I’m Evan.”

  But it’s too late, and she is gone. I’m suddenly left alone, in this vast space of nothing. Where am I? With arms outstretched, I walk through the space that feels like a suspension of time. My hand lands on a doorknob, and I open it with little force. I’m sucked into the room, the door slamming shut behind me.

  “We’re not done, Evan!” I hear Rae’s voice yell before I’m startled awake.

  I sit up on my bed, panting. My eyes try to refocus on my surroundings. Where am …I’m in my room. Safe. You are safe, Evan.

  My heart punches in my chest, because Rae is not safe. I did this to her. I killed her. She’s right; it’s my fault.

  I sob into my hands, and I fall right back into the state of grief I felt from the first day I found out the plane crashed. But this feels a hundred times worse.

  Why didn’t I just let her do her normal routine, and drive back to New York? If I didn’t project my own fears onto her, she would be here with me now.

  I did love her. She knew it, didn’t she? I might not have said it as often as I should have, but she knew…didn’t she?

  “I LOVED YOU!” I scream out into the darkness of my room.

  A chill goes through me, and I touch my damp t-shirt that is sticking to my body from sweat. Feeling dirty and guilty from my dreams, I stand and walk to my bathroom to take a quick shower.

  The bathroom steams up with the shower on full blast. I scrub anxiously at my skin, trying to wash away my sins. The water is scalding, and my skin tingles.

  I can feel these sensations, even when I feel numb inside. The weight of the burden of being responsible for Rae’s death is heavy to bear. My legs begin to buckle, and I instinctively reach out for the wall to balance myself, crumbling to the floor of the tub in a heap. I curl into a fetal position, and a loud wail escapes my parted lips; all of my agonies are given a voice, as Rae’s words from my dream echo through my foggy brain.

  I’m unsure how long I remain in this position, but my tears have turned to dry heaves, and the water has turned cold. Shivering, I turn off the water and slowly rise, tumbling a few times because I can’t feel my legs. The metal towel holder hums when I snatch my thick towel off, and hastily wrap it around my mid-section. My bare feet pad through the wooden floors in my bedroom, and I grab a clean t-shirt and sleep pants from a drawer without paying attention, tossing them on my bed.

  After drying my body, I rub the towel over my hair quickly. When I lower it from my face, I suddenly feel as if I am not alone. I spin around and see nothing; the room looks exactly the same. The hairs on my skin rise, as I turn around toward the mirror. In a reflection, that should be my own, stands the woman from my dream. Her cornflower blue eyes widen in shock, but recognition falls over her face.

  This can’t be happening! This is a dream! I rub my face with the damp towel and look at the mirror again, and she is still there. She takes a step toward the mirror, and I take a step backward. She pauses as she watches my actions. And guilt hits me. Have I offended her?

  I swallow down my fear and take two steps toward the mirror. She does not move, her eyes never leaving my own. Standing face to face with her, I close my eyes and remember the feel of her hand on my skin. I quickly open my eyes, for fear that she may disappear. Her smile brings a ray of sunshine into my existence.

  Can I talk to her? Would she be able to hear me? We both open our mouths and say, “It’s you.”

  Chapter 14

  “Evan, I need you to slow down. I don’t understand what you are trying to tell me,” Dawn’s annoyed voice quips on the phone.

  “I need you and Willa to come here ASAP.” I pace the floor in front of the mirror. The very mirror where, just an hour ago, I spoke to Franny! A person who should be dead!

  “For Pete's sake, Evan. It’s five in the morning. This couldn’t have waited till, let’s say, noon? I just got to—”

  “No, it can’t wait.” I bite my tongue from calling her a name because, to be honest, if she had called me at this hour, sounding the way I’m at the moment, I would be annoyed too.

  “Geez, you mean it, don’t you? Are you okay?”

  “No.” I close my eyes and rub my face with my free hand. “No, I mean, yes. I’m okay; at least, physically.” Psychologically is another story.

  Every time I walk past the mirror, I can’t help but glance at it, in hopes of Franny making another appearance. I know she told me she had to go and most likely wouldn’t be back for another day or two, but I’m still hoping. She is the only thing at this moment that is anchoring me to sanity.

  “Then why the urgency?” she huffs on the phone.

  “Dawn, I really need you and Willa right now. Can you please come out here? I’m begging you. I’ll pay for your tickets.”

  “Money isn’t the problem. It’s just that this is a weird request, at a weirder hour.”

  “I know. But trust me, if I tried to explain this over the phone, you would think I was crazy.” I’m positive telling her face-to-face, she’ll still think I’m crazy, but I’m willing to give this a try anyway. Besides, Willa may be able to explain what is going on. I’m suddenly a believer of her magic mumbo jumbo.

  “Fine, I’ll reach out to her later today.”

  I want to tell her to reach out to her now, but I’m taking this small victory.

  “Thank you,” I say, as I stare at my reflection, wishing it was replaced by Franny’s instead.

  “No problem.” She yawns and hangs up the phone.

  Dawn and Willa were able to get a flight out first thing the next morning. Now, I sit cross-legged on the floor with Dawn, and we watch Willa chanting with a burned sage bush. She has gone all throughout the house, with a special concentration in my bedroom and the mirror. I watch her in her element with my mouth agape, and suddenly I’ve been transformed from non-believer to a believer. Though, I still have reservations about this sage bush.

  “This is so awesome! You are the first person I’ve met, outside of Willa, that has made contact with the dead.” Dawn bounces up and down on her knees.

  “She’s not dead,” I say defensively.

  “Well, she can’t possibly be alive.” She folds her arms over her bosom.

  “I mean, she isn’t dead during her time. She is obviously dead in our time.” I try to make sense of a situation that, at best, should have been an episode of The Twilight Zone.

  “I’m confused.” She pouts.

  “She said it was September, Eighteen-hundred and sixty. When I spoke to her, she was very much alive in her time.”

  She edges over, closer to me. “What did she say, exactly?”

  I close my eyes as I recollect the conversation. “We had previously met.”

  “Huh?” Her eyebrows scrunch together. “You’re not making any sense again.”

  “I mean, we both dreamt of each other, just a few hours before we spoke.” But now I’m wondering if it was a dream; perhaps we both entered into a parallel universe.

  “What did she say to you in the dream?” She wraps her arms around her legs and places her chin on her knees.

  “Nothing really; she saved me. But then she had to go.” I don’t want to bring up the part about Rae and what she said to me. She opens her mouth, but I proceed with my story. “Next thing I know, she is standing in the mirror and we both…we knew…we both remembered each other from the dream.”

  She rubs her arms roughly.
“My goodness, I just got goose bumps from that.”

  Imagine how I feel, I want to say to her, but instead, I nod in agreement. “She told me her name. I asked her what year she was from.” Though it was almost easy to figure which century, based off of her clothes.

  “And she said she was from Eighteen-hundred and sixty?”

  I nod absentmindedly, as I stare at Willa chanting around the mirror. For a moment, I want to stop her, for fear that she might do something, and I will never see Franny again.

  “What else did she tell you?”

  I shrug. How can I explain this part? “It’s not quite that way. She didn’t necessarily speak freely. She more so waited for me to ask her questions.”

  “Wasn’t she curious too?”

  “Of course she was. It’s just that…that…”

  “What? What is it?” She punches my arm.

  “She’s a, ummm…well, she’s black.” I try to explain it without saying the actual words.

  “So? She’s black? What’s the big deal? You don’t care.” She rolls her eyes.

  “The year is eighteen-hundred and sixty. Think about it.”

  She stares at me, completely at a loss.

  “The Civil War didn’t happen till eighteen-hundred and sixty-one.”

  Still dumbfounded as to what I’m eluding to, she shrugs, so I try again.

  “The Emancipation Proclamation had not been signed at that point; this is the deep south.”

  She gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my God, she’s a slave?”

  I cringe at her words and glance over at the mirror, to make sure Franny hasn’t made an appearance. “Not so loud,” I whisper.

  She bends her head, her cheeks redden. “That’s horrible.”

  “I know. So, in a nutshell, she isn’t used to speaking to a white man unless she is asked a question.”

  “Talk about awkward.” She blushes some more.

  Oddly, it wasn’t. Even though I had to direct most of the conversation, it never felt awkward. It was one of the most natural conversations I’d ever had. I felt like I’d known her all my life. Her only hesitation was getting used to speaking to me as an equal; something I know will pass with time.