It's been close to three weeks since I met her, and I haven't done a lot of thinking about it, my schedule has a way of draining me of any thinking strength, till I'm just running on muscle memory and coffee. Still, somehow, she's there anyway. Not in any conscious way I don't have the energy for conscious but she surfaces in the gaps. The three seconds between patients. The elevator ride down to the cafeteria at 2 a.m. A name that shouldn't take up this much space, still taking it up.
I'm a third-year med student, and it's not realistic wanting to come home every night, when most kids my age want nothing but to go to the city, or somewhere bigger, livelier. But I can't bring myself to be anywhere else.
I was in the car with my parents that day. We knew they weren't going to make it. Mom was barely able to stay awake, and Dad I could see the pain in his eyes, and there was nothing I could do. Granted, I was ten. Not much I could do.
They both let go the minute they saw I was rescued. Didn't even make it to the hospital.
The reason I chose medicine was in my junior year, walking in on Uncle Joe having a heart attack. That scared me so much. I never want to feel like that again.
At least, I hope I don't.
Now, between getting off my clinic rotations at odd hours these past few weeks, I've been helping plan the hospital fair. I'm barely awake most days. Hopefully my shift will be lighter this coming week enough that I might actually remember what it felt like, seeing her for the first time, instead of just knowing that I did.
After my much-needed rest, I wake at about noon. It was tempting to remain in bed, but I couldn't aside from the fact it didn't seem normal to be asleep at this time, I could hear a lot of movement downstairs.
"What are you doing, aunty?" I question, looking between her and the cardboard boxes she was moving.
"Oh, Riv, did I wake you?" she asks, looking annoyed at herself for not being quiet enough.
"It's okay, I was up already."
"You should get more rest."
"I am fine, Nora. Now, the boxes—"
"Right, these are decorations for the fair, and some materials Bea requested."
"Let me get dressed, and we can go."
I know her well enough to know she'll argue it, but I stop her before she can. "Could you please pack breakfast for me?" I ask, hurrying off.
I smile as I hear her mutter about being surrounded by stubborn men. Once I get back downstairs, I move the boxes. She insists I eat first, and then we leave.
In just the little time we were away, the town looks festive, getting ready for the end-of-summer fair. I drop off at Bea's, then grab a coffee. I spot Miss Ariana and contemplate asking about Gwendolyn, but decide against it I'm not sure she even remembers me at all, not to mention I already embarrassed myself in front of Gwendolyn once. I'd rather not.
Later, when I take Aunt Nora home so she can get prepped for book club, once her friends start arriving, I decide it's time to head out. I've known these women my whole life, and I know how much they love discussing their kids, asking about girlfriends, and whatnot.
The logical thing would have been to go hang out with Sam, but I'll blame sleep, or something, for the fact that I decided to bike instead not just anywhere across town. I ignored the bike path close to our house and chose one across town that would get me close to the Lancaster property, hoping I could see her.
"This is stupid," I scoff, getting off my bike and deciding to walk to clear my head. I have never behaved like this. Somehow, I am crazy thinking about her, all of this.
I was so deep in thought that a sound snaps me out of it. I carefully walk forward, and like I had conjured her out of my thoughts Gwendolyn was sitting there, beside the water.
She looked beautiful. The day had gone cloudy without my noticing, the light gone soft and gray, and the clouds were casting shadows over the pond and everything around it, which made her look almost unreal her purple eyes, her hair tips catching what little light there was, dark dress, boots, a scarf against the chill. For a second I just stood there, stupidly, doing nothing but looking. I hadn't let myself just look at her since the store.
It took me a moment too long to notice the tendrils of moving shadow at her feet weren't from the clouds at all. One of them snakes around her leg.
"Stop it," she cautions, standing up and stomping her feet. She walks toward the water, then sits on the grass and touches the water's surface, and it ripples, glowing different colors — predominantly purple. Then she starts twirling her finger, and the water starts spinning.
Leaning in to take a closer look, I fumble forward and come face to face with her across the pond. Her eyes widen. And I watch everything start to lash out along with her — the shadows stretch out, flailing about, the whirlpool growing bigger, and a single bolt of lightning strikes the tree behind her.
She looks back at the tree for a second, then at me, and mouths one word. Run.
I don't think twice. I just act.
I don't remember the bike ride home. I don't remember the road, or the turns, or getting off the bike in the driveway. What I remember is standing in the front hallway with my hands not quite steady, staring at nothing, trying to decide if what I'd just seen had actually happened or if three weeks of no sleep had finally caught up with me and handed me something my brain made up to fill in the blanks. Water doesn't glow. Shadows don't move on their own. Lightning doesn't strike out of a sky that wasn't even storming.
I told myself that twice, and I still didn't believe it.
"You okay, River? You seem flushed," Uncle Joe says when I come into the kitchen, and I realize I've been standing in the doorway longer than I meant to.
"No — I'm okay. Decided to bike, that's all."
"You really need to exercise more."
"Leave him alone, Joseph. He doesn't need to get worked up about that hospital rounds are stressful enough," Aunt Nora says, placing dinner down on the table.
I sit through the meal on autopilot, nodding when I'm supposed to nod, answering when I'm supposed to answer, while underneath it I'm still standing at that pond, still watching lightning hit a tree six feet from a girl I can't stop thinking about. I excuse myself the first chance I get and head upstairs to wash up, telling myself I'll figure out what I actually saw once I'm alone. Once I can think straight.
"You have to give me a good reason not to hurt you," a voice says from the shadow in my room, just as Gwendolyn walks out of the shadows, a purple shimmer on her fingertips.