The Guardian of Threshold (5 page)

Although the twins were fifteen years old, their parents felt it was safer for them go out with me because I seemed capable of defending myself should the need arise. I guess being over six feet tall had its advantages.

“So where do you guys feel like going?” I asked, only to regret it a split second later.

“Uh, let me think,” Jonas said without really meaning it because he immediately added, “what about La Luna’s? We always eat there on Fridays.”

“That’s because you only want to eat there,” Carla objected, rolling her beautiful Caribbean blue eyes. “For once, can we please go somewhere else?”

I almost instinctively replied with a resounding, “Yes!” There was something in the way she spoke that drew me closer, something that made me want to agree with her and fulfill her every wish and desire.

“No, we can’t! I have a date there,” said Jonas. By “date” he meant he would try to hit on Wendy Hartwell—the Stoneham High cheerleader captain who worked at La Luna’s as a waitress. Well, “worked” was not really the right word to describe what she did there. Her father owned the place, which was conveniently located right on the busy main street where all the school kids hung out.

Wendy only worked there so she could flirt with all the high school jocks who frequented the joint. I personally had never seen Wendy carry a single tray, plate, or dish. Her favorite, and as far as I could tell only, responsibility was to walk around with her pink feather pen and bedazzled order book, taking customer’s orders, flirting, and bossing everyone around, including her own father.

“Fine, but you better ask her out already… not that she will accept, but at least then you can move on and we can finally eat at different restaurant for a change,” said Carla.

With a discreet flick of her hair, Carla picked up her pink backpack and ran toward her house across the street.

I must have been staring at her, because next thing I knew, I was getting elbowed in the stomach by Jonas.

“I’ll see you later,” Jonas said, looking wary.

“Yep, I’ll see you,” I said as casually as I could. Jonas ran, but he was unable to avoid getting completely soaked by the rainstorm, which seemed to be growing stronger.

A few seconds passed before I realized I was standing alone in the cold, lost in wonderment, thinking about Carla and what I should do with the whole Jonas situation.

How could I tell him? Should I tell him? Maybe I should talk to Carla first… after all, he doesn’t need to know if the feeling isn’t mutual
, I thought. Since, that wasn’t something I would be able to solve right then and there, I thought it was best to go inside.

My house was simply that: a house. It wasn’t a home anymore… long gone were all the things that made my house a home. My house was condemned to be forever just a house, for it was incomplete, much like a puzzle missing its centerpiece. The bond that held our house and our family together was gone.

CHAPTER FOUR

MEMORIES

A
s soon as I walked into the foyer, I took off my shoes and kicked them out of way—I must have been insane when I had decided to wear my new Nike sneakers. I don’t know why new sneakers always insisted on molding my feet to their exquisite shape, instead of it being the other way around. What was I thinking? Everyone except me knew not to wear new sneakers when they had PE class.

I kicked them so hard that I almost knocked out our old butler, Charles Woody. I gave him that name when we first got him. I was only four at that time—it seemed fitting too, especially because he was made out of wood.

Charles was one of those cheesy wooden child-sized butlers people insisted on using as decoration, a doorstop, or simply as irrefutable proof of their lack of style.

Luckily, old Charles wobbled but didn’t fall. I never really liked him. You wouldn’t either, if when you were four you had a scary looking wooden butler whose hard wood eyes seemed to follow you everywhere you went. Not to mention the fact that he was almost twice my size, smelled like cedar, and looked like he belonged in a bad 1950’s horror movie.

If he weren’t one of my mom’s favorite “art” pieces, I would’ve thrown him in the trash a long time ago. I still remembered how she used to joke that one day she was going to retire old Charles and have him replaced with a real butler. Unfortunately, that day never came.

As I passed near old Charles, I threw my house keys into the crystal bowl that sat on his tray. The keys were already in the air when I remembered what my mom used to say: “Mark! One day you are going to break that bowl. It has survived not one but two world wars, and it would be a shame if it didn’t survive you.”

As the keys landed in the crystal bowl, it sang a sweet melody that only true Waterford crystal could. They twirled around for a bit before finally settling on bottom.

There were so many memories packed into my house that every time I opened the door it was like taking a trip into the past. I often wondered why I always remembered the painful memories; after all, there were more beautiful memories—although they seemed so distant that it might as well have been a lifetime ago.

The moment I dreaded had arrived. Every day I fought the same battle, but it never got any easier.

The “Sorrows Hallway” waited for me. Unfortunately, it stood between the stairs and my bedroom, so I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, especially since my dad wouldn’t let me sleep in the living room.

Every day, I sped down the Sorrows Hallway, careful not to catch a glimpse of my happy past. The pictures that hung on the wall cut through my soul every time I walked past them.

I took mere seconds to run the length of the narrow and long hallway, but it felt like hours. I tried to keep my focus on the door handle to avoid looking at the old photographs on the walls, but despite my best effort, I still caught fleeting glimpses of joyful moments frozen forever in time. Those pictures only served to remind me of how much my life had changed.

The first picture was my favorite picture of her. I saw myself when I was still small enough to sit in her lap. I was happy as a clam at high water. Unfortunately, those pictures no longer brought me joy. Instead, they reminded me of how happy I’d been back then. And to think that I hadn’t even realized or appreciated it until it was too late. So many lost moments I could never get back.

Tomorrow would mark the tenth anniversary of her passing. I couldn’t help it as a single, lonely tear streamed down my face.

If I could remove that day from the calendar, I would. Nobody should ever lose a family member in the month of December. Needless to say, Christmas had stopped being a joyful celebration long ago. She died the day after we had decorated the Christmas tree. She used to love Christmas—I could see the spark in her eyes when December came about. She would plan the decorations for days. She had villages, blow-up snowmen, and Santa hats that she used to hang all around the house. And she wasn’t content until my dad hung tons of lights outside. Our house was the most decorated house on the block. Some of the neighbors would even complain about the traffic jam we created.

I started to sob as tears continued falling down my face. I forced myself to be strong and wiped my face dry.

Not a single day passed that I didn’t think of her at least four or five times a day, sometimes more… rarely less.

She was often the first thought on my mind when I woke up and the last when I went to bed. On some extremely rare days, I would forget about her, only to suddenly remember and feel devastated by guilt, followed by utter sadness.

Will this ever get easier?
I wondered, even though I felt it wouldn’t.

I was a much different person back then, before the cursed and fatal car accident that ripped my life apart and took the life of my mother.

That sweet and calm five-year-old-boy still lived somewhere inside me, lost in a dark corner. I could feel him yearning to get out into the world. Sometimes I felt like I was my own worst enemy.

Yet it scared me to think about what would happen if I found my old self.
Would I be able to survive or even cope?
I wondered as I entered my bedroom, banging the door shut with more force than necessary.

I tossed my heavy backpack onto my bed. Although I felt relieved, my shoulders still hurt.

My eyes burned, and I couldn’t stop yawning. My bed seemed so inviting, but I still had to finish my homework. My dad insisted that I do all my homework on the day it was assigned.

Why do teachers like to give exams on Mondays? After all, don’t I deserve a couple days off to help me keep my sanity…? That’s if I haven’t lost it already.

I felt so defiant that if I didn’t have another flight test tomorrow morning, I wouldn’t finish my homework, but that’s what I get for making an eight o’clock appointment. I would’ve made it for later, but the forecast called for heavy winds and snow beginning Saturday early afternoon. I didn’t want a repeat of last week’s crash landing, so I figured I’d better make sure the weather was calm this time around.

I figured if I worked hard enough, I might be able to get most, if not all, of my homework done before dinner. Otherwise my Friday night dinner with Jonas and Carla could be in jeopardy.

I had grown accustomed to our Friday night ritual, but it was worth missing for my flight test tomorrow. I’d been looking forward to it all week—I just hoped that I could get a decent night of sleep. I’d practiced all week on the flight simulator because I needed everything to go without a hitch. I loved the adrenaline rush from flying; perhaps it was the sense of freedom, or maybe it was the blissful, temporary amnesia I experienced while flying.

***

Even though I was set on accomplishing as much homework as I could, my eyes were getting heavier, and before I even realized it, they started to close.

I fought it for a few seconds, but ultimately the fatigue won. It wasn’t very common for me to get tired this early in the day, but then again, I always felt worn out whenever I was bored. Unfortunately, patience wasn’t one of my strong suits.

I’d never taken a nap in the afternoon before, but today was different. My muscles felt weak. I would have paid not to have to move them. I guess all the physical and emotional stress had drained my energy—or perhaps I just wanted to escape real life.

So I finally gave into the fatigue and pushed the contents of my bed aside and onto the floor. I heard a loud thump when my backpack hit the hardwood floor. I pulled my pillow closer and let gravity do the rest.
Ah, nothing wrong with a little afternoon nap
, I thought as I closed my eyes.

For a few seconds, I laid in my bed with my eyes closed and relaxed as a thick black veil fell over me.

At first I saw nothing out of the ordinary, just blackness, as though I was staring into deep and starless space. It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when I was almost asleep, that I saw hazy and brilliant orbs, floating majestically into my field of vision. At first, they were small and few, almost unnoticeable, but after a few minutes, they grew so intense that I thought a firework show had exploded inside my head.

I didn’t know where I was, but I didn’t seem to be experiencing the constant rage and sadness I normally felt. I enjoyed the much-needed relief so much that I decided to go with the flow. After all, moments of tranquility were so rare in my life that I embraced it to the point where I became so relaxed that I forgot I had a body at all. Suddenly, innumerable, scintillating flakes charged toward me, and as they hit me, I felt my body vibrate and come alive with a brisk, powerful, and yet painless jolt of electricity. I was paralyzed and unable to scream.

Soon the vibrations became uncontrollable, as if an unprecedented amount of power was coursing through my body, and as it did, it overcharged every single cell in my body. I felt my body swaying. I had been drunk once before, but this felt much worse. At times it felt like my body was going to hit the ceiling, but I didn’t dare open my eyes to look.

Then out of nowhere, I heard a loud boom that shook me to my core. I wondered if I was in any danger or if I was still even alive because my heart felt like it was about to burst—but after a few seconds, I realized I wasn’t in any immediate danger. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to relax and go with the flow.

Not five seconds passed before my body started to feel lighter, as though it was suddenly inflated with helium. I was strangely aware of every cell in my body as they tingled and gave me a strange, yet pleasant sensation. At that moment, I felt my body lift up as if gravity had suddenly been turned off. I was floating… I don’t mean my physical body, but dare I say it? My spirit.

At first I couldn’t see much, yet I knew exactly where everything was. It was a different form of vision, an internal sense, or radar if you will. I could feel my surroundings. I guess it was what I heard some people call the mind’s eye. The best way I can describe it is that every object seemed to possess its own energy.

I was floating upward when a frightening thought invaded my soul.

Am I dead?
I wondered out loud.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for what was about to happen—the simple act of asking that question caused a jolt of panic to start building inside of me. I felt lost and alone as I floated in utter silence; I felt dreadful.

“You don’t know what death is!” came a whispered and raspy reply.

I stopped moving immediately. I just floated in place, petrified by the fear as chills overtook my body.

After a good few seconds of silence, I managed to ask, “Who… are you? Why can’t I… see you?” My head was spinning, making me feel dizzy and sick to my stomach.

If I hadn’t experienced so many panic attacks, I would have thought that I was dying—I wasn’t totally sure I hadn’t—but somehow that voice made death seem warm and even inviting.

“Trust me, you don’t want to see me. For the moment, you just have do what I say,” the raspy voice replied.

“Where am—”

“Where you shouldn’t be. Do not continue! Turn back now before it’s too late.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, more scared and nervous than curious.