They both would be. I knew that. I was also sure I would never be alone—Clay would always be close by, whether I was aware of it or not. Clay might have been able to take me to the past, but I think the most important thing he taught was that I have to stay present. I can’t be chasing ghosts. I can’t be chasing hurt. I can’t be chasing things that can’t be changed.
“I’m glad that things are okay between us,” Mom let out.
“They’ll continue to be okay. I promise, I’m going to finish up school next year, and who knows what the future will bring. All I know is right now, I get to spend time with you, Nan, and Tia.” I smiled. “That doesn’t sound too bad to me.”
Mom smiled too. “I got you something.” She sat up, pulled over her purse, and dug into it. “Close your eyes, okay?”
“Okay.” I giggled.
“Put your hands out.”
I felt her place something in them. It was soft, and felt like leather.
“Open up, Annaka.”
When I opened my eyes, I held a new journal in my hands. It was baby blue, emblazoned with “This is for the Seekers.” I could tell from the design of the text that Mom totally put that there. The leather was soft. I was a bit shocked at first, but I knew this would make room for the future.
“Thank you, Mom.” I hugged her.
“You’re welcome.” She rested her head on mine.
We just lay there, looking up towards the sky that rested above our heads, knowing that this moment would bleed nostalgia someday. I already knew it would be the first memory I would write about.
Eventually Mom left to put Nan to bed, but I stayed, looking at my new journal. It was different—definitely not the type Grampy would write in—but I was pretty sure this journal was going to start and end with me. Nobody else. It made me think back to what Tia had asked me earlier that day. Was I going to bury Clay?
I went to my room and saw the torn journal resting on my night stand. Beside it was the picture of my namesake, Aunt Annaka, I had found in the attic. That felt like a lifetime ago, but I wanted to keep her close. Maybe I could get to know her.
I picked up the old journal for last time, and carried it outside to a patch of grass beneath the tree house. With a shovel from the garage, I started digging. I knew that’s where Clay would want to be. I dug a hole not too deep, but not too shallow. It was in the in-between—just like Clay always was. Between our world and his. I knelt and placed the journal beneath the earth, under the tree house we called home. I didn’t cry; I was saying goodbye.
As I smoothed the earth, I heard a voice. “Hey, you ready for that drive?” It was Tia.
“Tia, hey. I thought you were going to text me.”
“I did…you didn’t reply. But I see you’ve had your hands full.” She pointed to the shovel in my hand. “You did it,” she realized. I heard a bark in the distance and could see Taz making his way into our backyard. He jumped on me, barking happily and licking the dirt from my hands.
I chuckled. “Thanks for the birthday love, big guy.”
“How about it, captain?” Tia asked again. I knew she wanted to get me away from home, and honestly, that wasn’t such a bad idea.
“Let’s go.” I got to my feet. “We’ll take my ride.”
We all fit in my truck and I drove towards Cape Forchu. The sky was spitting light, and I followed the setting sun towards the lighthouse. When we got there Taz ran off, but we knew he wouldn’t go too far. Tia and I made our way to the top of the hill, wandered away from the main area, and walked along the rocks. I was a little ahead of her, but she wasn’t too far behind. She knew I was quiet for a reason; she had caught me burying my best friend. Now there we were, walking along the rocks above the sea.
“Do you wanna keep conversation light?” she called.
I stopped and let her catch up. “We don’t have to,” I said, looking onward.
“Do you wanna talk about that night?”
“I thought we already did.”
“Yes, I mean, I know you went to meet your dad…I mean, Blake. I know the journal got hit by the truck, I know you were trapped in Clay’s world, and you had to rip the journal to get out. But…I don’t know.” She looked at me and squinted. “What did you see in there?”
I hadn’t told her about seeing my grandfather. I was still trying to figure out the how and why of that happening. If everything I had written in the journal was from the past, how did I have an authentic conversation with my grandfather, in the present?
“Clay…before Clay…died, I uh, saw my grandfather.”
“Like, a memory?”
“No, this was real. Clay grabbed hold of me, I closed my eyes, and I woke up in my backyard. But not in my reality, it was somewhere in between his and mine. I walked inside the house, and I seen him. I seen my grandfather. We spoke for a while.”
“What about?”
“Just everything, I guess. He told me a little about my aunt, he told me I was a seeker, he told me I had to…I had to help Clay.”
Tia processed that for a minute. “How did that happen? I thought Clay could only bring things back from the past?”
“I know, me too. But I’ve been thinking about it non-stop. When the journal was almost ripped in half, I think it created a rift between Clay’s reality and ours. Maybe the memories of my grandfather got projected into the present day? Like, how I remembered him, and because of that I got to see him? I don’t know. Maybe
