Why are you covered in hair? What is this place? And who are those…ah…people?
“Cory,” Matt mumbled, still asleep. He opened his eyes with a start. Disoriented, but a quick glance around settled him. He was in his bed in his own room.
Stupid dream!
He rolled over but was wide awake.
She has to be alive.
Unable to get back to sleep, he kicked off the covers, slid out of bed then walked across his room, out his door and into the hallway. The room next to his was Cory’s. He steeled himself and walked over.
Please be in there.
He paused in the threshold and looked inside. Cory wasn’t in her bed. Had she finally learned the art of vanishing? He’d always won at hide-and-seek when they were little because he’d been able to transform into nothingness, still there but vanishing from view. Cory tried a few times but couldn’t master it; parts of her body still in plain sight. Her head, her hand seemingly floating in mid-air always gave away her position. Eventually she gave up trying, believing that she couldn’t do it.
He scanned the room, hoping for a sign of her. There were no clothes on the floor. The always open closet door was shut. There were no cups on her desk, no empty bags of snacks. No wadded-up papers that had failed to make it into the bin.
He shuffled to her bedside and picked up the teddy bear that had always resided there. Cory got it when she was two. Mr. Ruffles. He could the feel the love she had for the ragged little bear, even with his tattered ears and scruffy fur from years of cuddling. She probably hugged him right before leaving for the airport the day they left for Ellesmere Island. He felt her excitement. She knew she’d have bragging rights when she got home.
He hugged Mr. Ruffles, kissed the top of his head, put him next to Cory’s pillow then backed away. Slumping against the doorjamb, he hugged himself.
She’s gone. I can’t believe it but I just have to accept it.
***
Matt sat at the table in the school cafeteria across from Caroline, his girlfriend of five months. He was tall, dark and geeky. She was short, a firecracker with shocking red hair, connect-the-dot freckles and a smile that could melt paint. They didn’t look like a couple but their attraction had been instant.
“You look terrible.” Caroline said through a mouthful of tuna sandwich.
“Haven’t slept. I can’t stop the damn dreams.” Matt crunched into an apple. After one bite he put it down.
Caroline chewed for longer than seemed necessary. “Don’t you think that’s normal? You’ve lost your sister,” she added softly.
Matt shrugged. “I’ll never get over it. I know my parents won’t either. I haven’t seen either of them smile since Mum got back from the arctic. I just figured it would get easier after a couple of months.”
Caroline scrunched up her mouth and patted his hand. “None of you will ever forget her but the pain will go away. It’s not been that long.”
“I know, but I wish I could control my thoughts. Cory’s voice keeps entering my mind, like she’s calling to me.”
“I remember that happening before,” Caroline hesitated. “You always said it was a twin thing.”
Matt and Cory had always used mind-reading. It got weird when they were around other people because they’d answer out loud unspoken questions. He’d told Caroline they knew what was on each other’s minds because they were twins. Once he even admitted that they used extrasensory perception: telepathy. Caroline had laughed at the time, not believing a word of it. Matt knew that it was easy to fool the normals, sometimes just by telling the truth.
Caroline snapped her fingers to get Matt out of his trance. “You’re just doing what we all do when we lose someone we love. My grandmother lived with us and after she died, I thought I heard her all the time. It was just my imagination because I wanted to hear her.” Caroline picked up Matt’s apple. “You gonna finish this?”
Matt shook his head. “Go ahead.”
Through a mouthful Caroline continued. “I’d imagine Grandma saying things that she’d always say: Caroline, dinner, Caroline, walk the dog, Caroline take the trash out….”
“Matt I wish you could see this place. It’s amazing.”
It was Cory’s voice again. Matt closed his eyes and rattled his head to stop the thoughts.
“It’s so warm.”
“Warm?” He repeated the thought.
“What?” Caroline had finished the apple and shot it into a nearby bin.
“Did you ever imagine your grandmother saying something that she wouldn’t have said?”
Caroline shrugged. “Don’t think so. Why?”
“I keep imagining that Cory is talking to me but I always imagine her in the arctic. Now I’m having weird thoughts about her saying something that doesn’t make sense.”
Caroline was rifling through her lunch bag. A disappointed look took over when she didn’t find anything else to eat.
“I wouldn’t stress about it.” she gave him a pitying pout. “It’ll get easier, I promise.”
***
The next morning, Matt dressed for school then lumbered into the kitchen. His father was seated at the table, reading the newspaper. His mother was standing at the sink, staring out at the garden. It was the same quiet, eerily familiar scene every morning since Cory’s death.
Late winter sunshine filtered in through the window, making it feel warm and cosy inside. Outside, the garden looked cold; a soft mist hovered above the frost covered grass.
His mother turned away from the window. “Still having trouble sleeping?”
Matt frowned. “How did you know? I’ve never said.”
“Maybe because I haven’t been sleeping well and can hear when someone else is up. I can also read your mind…remember?”
“And when your mother’s not sleeping, neither am I,” his father said without looking up.
“Oh John, I haven’t meant to keep you up.”
He smirked. “It’s not all your fault. I haven’t had so many bizarre dreams since…well…ever.”
Yawning, Matt pulled a chair out from the table with a screech and sat down heavily. “Me too.”
His father collapsed the paper onto the table. “Actually I’m only having one dream…over…and…over,” he drawled.
Matt suddenly looked wide awake, catching his father’s unspoken thought. “About Cory?”
His father nodded once and went back to his paper.
His mother looked at the fireplace on the other side of the room. Cory’s ashes were in an urn on the centre of the mantel. A single tear escaped her eyes. “It’s all part of grief.” She turned back to face the window. “My dream is that Cory’s in some odd place and she has white hair covering her so it really doesn’t even look like her but I know it is. You know how dreams are.”
Matt looked at his father who was thinking about his own dream: Cory with white hair covering her face. “I’m dreaming the same thing,” he said in an astonished tone.
His father grunted, focused on something in the paper. “Did you know that the Prime Minister is suggesting a special holiday this month. Something called Late Winter’s Respite.”
His mother shook her head then plunged her hands into the sudsy water to do the washing up.
Matt was visibly shaking. “Don’t you think it’s weird that we’re having the same dream?”
His mother dropped a cup in the water. It clanged against the porcelain sink. She fished it out. It hadn’t broken. “It is but we can read each other’s minds so it’s not that surprising that we share thoughts.” Her head dropped forward. Her shoulders bounced when a subdued snuffle escaped.
Matt pushed away from the table and went to her. “You okay,” he asked, patting her shoulder.
She reached up and squeezed his hand. “I just wish I could’ve done something to save her.” She sniffed back her tears. “But I don’t remember anything. I barely remember flying home.”
“Maybe you should call Dr. Hawthorn. He might be able to help you understand what happened. You know, fill in the blanks.”
She turned to look at him. Her eyes were red, her lips trembled. “I’ve never thanked him. I should at least do that.”
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