Chapter 18
A week. An entire week I’d tried to make sense of that awful creature, the omnipotent voice who’d saved me, and the light I’d seen dance below my own skin.
Not a single time in my entire life had I hoped to dream.
Yet, as I combed the shelves of Fhírinne night after night in search of answers, I found myself wanting to enter that hellish world to unearth the truth behind my worsening nightmares.
I needed to know what exactly these physical dreams were and how I fit into them. But were those answers worth dying for?
Of course, the second I decided I wanted to sleep, the dreams just … stopped.
At least coursework was a good distraction from both the dreams and Cillian’s suddenly cold energy.
While he showed up to classes, it seemed he’d stepped down from his TA position, keeping to the desk closest to the door for a quick escape.
It made no sense why he was even taking these courses, considering he was leaps and bounds ahead in his education.
But I didn’t dwell on it. That was his business, and he wasn’t mine to ask questions of.
He’d made that fact abundantly clear. If I said his sudden disinterest didn’t hurt, I’d be lying, but it wasn’t my first time being rejected in such a way, and it likely wouldn’t be my last. I just wished he’d thought things through before making me feel like I could count on him.
In Art History, Celine had asked us to write about enlightenment and what it meant to us.
She also wanted to know why, how, and what situations in our lives may have affected our particular choices.
Enlightenment to me, I decided, was peace.
Unoriginal some might say, but still my truth.
I’d lived in chaos long enough that the idea of peace not only evaded me, but intrigued me.
I mean, life without fear? How could such an existence be real?
As for the art piece to tie it together, I settled on The Swing, a whimsical piece from the Rococo period. In it, a woman wearing a voluminous pink dress with a wide smile swung over the top of a swooning man, her slipper in midair above his head. I chose it because she looked peaceful and joyful.
By the time I’d finished my paper, I’d somehow written three pages past the desired length. I aimed to whittle it down but couldn’t get myself to scratch the words. At the risk of a failing grade, I turned it in as it was that Friday afternoon.
“It’s a little long,” I explained as I handed the paper to Miss Celine, my ironclad grip denting the paper’s edges.
She eyed the stack, a playful smile on her cheeks. “Well, while I should ding you for not following guidelines, I’m glad you took to the assignment so well.”
“I really did. It was a surprisingly fun challenge.”
It struck me then how I’d somehow found precisely what it was that Glenda and Jack had wanted me to in coming to Saint Peter’s: structure.
And despite my best efforts, it somehow stuck.
No more falling asleep during class. No more zombified existence.
Sure, my nightmares hadn’t completely gone away, but I was learning, which was more than I could say before.
I studied Miss Celine as she began reading the first line aloud, her fingers grasping at the quartz around her neck. The second her words started, every fear in me evaporated. She was using magic, without a doubt.
“Enlightenment isn’t so much what it is, but rather what it is not.” She pursed her lips, and gave me a nod. “I’m intrigued.”
“Thanks,” I smirked. She set my paper down, and in the corner of my eye, I swear I saw it shimmer like the light I’d seen in my dream, seeping from the soles of my feet. “Did that paper just—”
“Can’t wait to read it tonight,” she said, and started toward the door. “How about you, Fey, have any exciting Friday night plans?”
Roxie barreled into the room as if summoned by the word plan—something of which she always had at her disposal—parting the sea of exiting students with a kind head nod.
Roxie stopped at my side, looping her arm through mine. “Hey, Miss C.”
“Roxie,” she said with another nod.
“Roxie and I are going to hit the cinema room tonight.”
“How fun. They playing anything worth noting?” Celine asked.
Roxie teetered her hand in the air. “Eh, another mystery of some sort, but I’m beginning to enjoy trying to unravel the plot by the midpoint. I’m getting pretty good at it actually.”
Celine smiled wide. “Have fun, you two.”
Roxie grinned and pulled me into the hall.
“Okay, so I pulled some of my favorite onesie pajamas from my closet this morning and laid them out on the bed for you. I call dibs on the unicorn, because I mean hello”—she motioned to herself—“it’s me we’re talking about. But all the rest are up for grabs. Pick whichever one you want.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think we’re a little old for that?”
“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure? It’s healing for the inner child, I promise.”
Inner child work—now that was a place I wasn’t willing to go yet, with my therapist or anyone else for that matter.
Those wounds ran far too deep, clear down the marrow.
But ridiculous pajamas that’d make her smile?
That I could do. Roxie pushed her bedroom door open, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Holy hell, you weren’t kidding about options. ”
“Yeah … it’s a bit of an addiction, really,” she said as she tossed her purse on the beige beanbag in the corner.
“Hey, there are far worse addictions you could have. But I have a serious question … Do you think when they’re alone, tucked in the darkness of your closet, they fight over who is the favorite?” I teased.
“Har-har, very funny. Tease all you want, but Shelly here is my main squeeze.” She snatched the unicorn from atop her dresser. “We have a … complicated relationship, but it’s ours.”
I chucked and looked over my options. Lion, flamingo, panda, penguin—you name it, she had it. The second I laid eyes on the black-and-purple dragon, complete with shimmery scales, it was game over. “That one.”
“Ha, I knew it!”
“Yeah, right! How could you know that?”
“It’s the broodiest one in the bunch. Of course, you’d pick that one!”
“Oh, so I’m broody now, huh?”
“Fine, whimsical. Is that better?” She bumped me with her hip on her way to return the rejected animals to the closet.
“Much better, thank you.”
“That, and you like all that magical stuff. Don’t think I haven’t seen you twiddling with the crystals in your bra and shuffling your tarot cards when nobody’s looking, witchy woman.”
I giggled, her bed springs shrieking as I fell onto the mattress. “Roxanne Saadatmand! Have you been sneaking peaks of my bosom? I am appalled!
“Hey, flaunt ’em if you got ’em, right?”
The ease of conversation carried, but the deeper reality wasn’t lost on me.
Not only had this bubbly, kind, intelligent woman taken the time to help me adjust, but I think she actually saw me.
She saw me because she was patient enough to slow down and ask, helping me out of my comfort zone on my own terms. Unlike so many others in my life, Roxie chose to stay.
Sandwiched between Roxie and Samantha—with Josh silently munching away on his popcorn in his panda onesie at Sam’s side—I couldn’t imagine the night getting any better. It all felt so … normal. No cursed stones or beasts. No panic or worry. Just ridiculous fun. Being with them was easy. Effortless.
And yet, I still scanned the sea of faces for Cillian.
It was like he’d evaporated into thin air.
Part of me wondered, what with his affinity for elemental magic, if he really did evaporate?
Ha, talk about an entirely new take on ghosting somebody.
As much as I wanted answers on why he didn’t seem to care anymore, part of me understood.
I wasn’t the only one who struggled with internal demons, and that shit wore on the soul.
Somewhere along the way, I decided to cut him some slack.
In the end, I held no claim over him. He wasn’t mine.
And should he decide he wanted to talk again, I made up my mind to not mention the time he’d spent avoiding me.
Or the time he’d spent avoiding the world in general.
After he healed my hands that night, I figured I owed him that much at least.
When the movie ended, we all went our separate ways, more than ready to hit the sack after a long day.
Josh waved, he and Sam pretending to head to their rooms, only to sneak off into the dark classroom hallway.
They really were a cute couple. Josh, with his broad shoulders, Sam with her dainty frame. They fit.
I turned to head back to my room when Roxie caught my wrist.
“Stay with me tonight? We can watch spooky Halloween movies,” she said in a dramatic Dracula accent.
I smirked. “Alright, but you have to promise me you’ll do some solid self-reflection on the accent. It’s way more Count Chocula than big, bad vampire boss, and I just can’t be associated with that given the very broody reputation I must uphold.”
Her laugh creased her gentle eyes. “Deal.”
I’d been so blinded by the dreamless nights and the general normalcy of the day, I hadn’t even considered what staying overnight risked or the damage a potential nightmare could cause if I wasn’t alone when it struck. Good thing my dreams had other plans in store.