This room is small, lit only by an old-fashioned oil-lamp. Maybe I time-traveled? That would explain why it’s dark outside the window opposite the bed. Next to my bed is a wooden chair with this man who claims to know me. There are flowers in a vase on the windowsill. I love flowers. Why is he holding me here?
“Why am I here? Tell me. I can’t remember. Did I knock my head?”
“I’m your friend and lawyer Tom. Thomas Aldercroft. Don’t you remember? We drove to meet Scott at his cabin, but when we arrived it had gone up in flames. There was nothing we could do.”
What did he say? Scott’s hut burned out? Who is Scott? Inside my head, it rumbles and shakes. Can brains have earthquakes? Apparently so. Suddenly, I smell smoke and burning wood and choke and cough to clear my lungs. I look at my bandaged hands.
I remember. It’s like someone switched on the lights. Click, click, and click. With each click the room gets lighter, everything gets clearer.
I tried to get inside, but it was too late, too hot, too hopeless.
Scottie.
The roof collapsed and all I could do was stare. There is no place to hide anymore; there is no flying away anymore. I’m back and I’m angry. What use is it to be a multiple, if you can’t fly away and stay in La-La-Land for good?
“Lilly.”
“Pardon me? What did you say?” Tom stares at me.
“My name is Lilly. Where is Scottie?”
A dark shadow falls over his eyes. He looks around as if he needs permission from someone to talk.
“He didn’t make it out. I’m sorry. He’s gone.”
I stare at him. I see his lips move. I hear his words, but who’s he kidding? A wave of nausea washes over me. It can’t be.
“You’re lying.”
A massive explosion is happening inside my head that sounds like the agonized howling of countless souls. And then there is silence.
“I wish I were. I …, he was my best friend.”
“Don’t talk about him like that. It makes me want to hit you.” I remember now and a lump in my throat makes breathing difficult. “I want to go back there and see for myself. How long have I been unconscious?”
Tom looks at his wristwatch. “We came back here yesterday late afternoon. You disappeared and Ama made dinner for me. Then she went upstairs and that was it. I woke up hearing you shout and cry. So I came and stayed with you. It’s just after four in the morning.”
“You’re saying I have been down and out for twelve hours?”
“Yes, you have. And before you ask, no, none of the other parts showed up either. You scared the hell out of me. I was determined to get the doctor in the morning.”
“I don’t need a doctor. Enough chitchat. Can you please leave my room? I need to get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs in half an hour.”
Tom closes the door behind him and I stagger to the wardrobe to get dressed. Tears are running down my face.
Pull yourself together!
I don’t want to hear the voice of reason pounding in my head or see the pity in the eyes of Tom.
I want Scottie.
But he is not here, is he? He’s not here. He promised never to leave my side. We had plans. He wanted to show me the world. He had no right to go back on his promise. But he did. He’s gone, without a word, without a goodbye. I couldn’t even tell him …
On the inside, I’m crying a silent river of tears. And it’s not just me. Oh, God, have mercy, not just me. We all do. Like me, the Tribe is stirring, waking up from the numbness they’ve been in. I’m so proud of them. They … we always got up and moved on, no matter how dark the moment, no matter how painful the experience, no matter how shattered we were. We will do so again, I know because we are survivors.
Perhaps he escaped and didn’t die in the flames? I love him. We all do. If he were dead, wouldn’t we feel it? Wouldn’t there be an empty, gaping void in our heart? He wouldn’t leave without giving me a sign. His hand would stroke my face in a last goodbye. If he had died, wouldn’t he come to me in my dreams and hold me one last time?
My mind plays with images of Scott. I’m imagining the door opening, and he dragged himself in, injured but alive. Or perhaps he’s sitting at my dining table downstairs, waiting for me.
I’m rushing.
“We must accept he’s gone. By not accepting we prolong the agony.” Sky’s voice of reason has a hard time getting heard. I don’t want to listen to her, even if swinging from hope to despair is crippling me. The energy of hurt and pain is much stronger than the energy of reason. She has little chance of coming through.
I grab a fresh pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie, and sink back onto the edge of the bed. Now would be a good moment for Scottie to come through the door and tell me all is well. But nothing happens. I let my tears drop onto the wooden floor and sling my arms around me, trying to hold myself together.
Scottie. A thousand unspoken words of love lay shattered at the bottom of my mind, joined by a thousand fleeting gazes, and a thousand loving touches. How can I go on without you?
My eyes burn from the many tears I shed. It becomes near impossible to breathe past the thing in
