Page 25 of The Final Storm
“I hate to admit it, but you’re right. I feel safer on the Galene,” I shrug. “I’m not happy about what’s going on with Sam, but it’s safer. We should bring them. Maybe… everyone. Do you think the islanders would come with a storm headed this way?”
Lori stands up and rummages through a drawer of clothes. She sniffs a few things, setting them to the side, deciding what’s clean enough to wear.
“We can try, but it’s their decision,” Lori replies. “Do you think Dean’s just after you? The boys have the gift…” she trails off.
“He doesn’t know about that,” I argue. “My sister wouldn’t let him know about that. I didn’t even know.”
“He’s a manipulator,” Lori whispers. “He could have done the same to her.”
I walk over to Lori and grab a fresh shirt, well, as fresh as it can be. I yank my old one off, disgusted with myself after seeing it in my hands. “If the Thalassa comes anywhere close, we’ll know. That ship is monstrous,” I remind her. “He can’t get to us without warning.”
“Remember Titanic and the iceberg? Icebergs are big too,” she jokes.
I glare at her. “That’s not helpful.”
“Neither is your refusal to shower.”
Lori grabs the shirt from my hands. “Not that one. You wore that last week and never washed it.”
Last week?
“Why did you love him?” Lori asks.
“What?” I mumble, still shocked that it’s been weeks. I genuinely don’t know what day it is.
“Dean?”
“What?” I repeat. I’m too exhausted to keep up with her questions.
“Why did you love Dean?” she asks again. “Is it because you got pregnant?”
She’s caught me off guard on purpose, but now the question begs to be answered. I still myself, running through the reasons in my mind. I was under his spell for so long that it’s hard to go back to the beginning. That was so long ago, a lifetime ago.
I yank the shirt over my head and frown. “He wasn’t always like this. I don’t think so, at least.” I look at myself in the mirror. “I should shower.”
“Don’t you dare change the subject,” Lori orders, yanking me to face her.
I rub the back of my neck and nod. It’s instinctual, avoiding conversations like this, but that’s not how I want to live my life. “He used to sneak my sister and me out of the house when it got too hot in the summers. We didn’t have air conditioning. Sometimes we would go to the lake and race across with other kids when it stormed outside. Unsafe but… fun. Sometimes we’d walk to his place, not knowing what he had planned. I thought it was a party or something, but we’d go to his basement, and he’d strip to his boxers and lie on the cold cement. Then Morgan and I would do the same until we shivered from the cold. It was such a… relief.”
Lori squints her eyes. “I know we’ve been speculating, but you always talk about him like he’s alive. Did you see something?”
“No,” I admit. “I feel something.” I point to my stomach. “I’ve always felt it here.”
“Okay,” she nods, accepting my odd response. With a best friend like me, she’s used to nonsensical answers. “You’re saying you loved him because he cooled you off?”
“N-no,” I stammer. A small giggle follows, and I think about how to respond. “I loved him because… because he saw me. When I would fail a class, he would show up and help me study without asking. If I got embarrassed with friends, he’d make a scene and draw their attention. It’s hard to explain.”
“Sounds like he wanted to play the hero. And, you knew him your whole life?” Lori asks.
I tilt my head and think back on my years with Dean. “Yes. His mom and mine were friends, but his died and mine drank. My dad traveled a lot.” I chuckle to myself. “Dad cheated a lot now that I think about it. He disappeared for weeks at a time, and my mother would mumble about girlfriends. Once the weather turned, he was gone for good, and, well… Dean was there.”
I fear that I’m glamorizing Dean to her. He’s a terrible person who has done terrible things, but I loved him once. I don’t anymore because the Dean that exists on the Thalassa isn’t the one I recognize. That’s not the man that held my hand on summer nights stretched out on cold cement. That’s not the man that worked the farm with us when dad was gone.
Or was it?
There were so many little manipulations I didn’t see until later. If I had been a stronger person, things might have been different. Maybe if I were a stronger person then,hewould have been different.
“I spent a lot of years hiding my sight,” I mumble. “A lot of my time and energy went to pushing it down - blocking it out. I think it… it made it hard to see anything else when I was so focused on tryingnotto see.”
