I sit up in bed and wipe the dream from my eyes. I push my eyes into the heels of my hands, using the darkness to take the image from my head. It takes a moment to clear the sea rushing up to meet me, but I manage after a few moments of silence.
Even when it is gone I keep my eyes shut for a moment. I let the feeling of guilt wash over me again, appreciating it as I usually do. Every time the dreams break through I feel like I am betraying Gabrielle and Alexis. I want to be strong for them more than anything else. But these dreams keep me weak, small. I want them to stop so badly. I want to live my life without these haunting dreams. I have lived like this for so long; since Colin died ten years ago. I should have let my guilt go a long time ago, but I cannot. Sometimes I go as long as a month without thinking about the night he died, but the dreams always get me in the end.
I lean over and kiss Gabrielle on the forehead.
“Why can’t I be strong for you?” I ask aloud, kissing her again; this time on the lips. I would spend more time kissing Gabrielle, but I do not want to wake her up. I have not even looked at the clock yet and I know that it is earlier than a normal person would be awake. It would be cruel and inhuman to wake her now. She looks so peaceful. I do not want that smooth brow to crumple in concern like it always does when I get like this. I want her to sleep and have no thought of her troubled husband.
I slowly get out of bed. As I stand watching her for a minute, parts of me wish I had not been so selfish when I asked her to marry me. She could have had a man who was better for her. Stronger. Unbroken. I should not have even tried to imagine any sort of relationship with her. But I am glad I did. She turns over, ignorant of me watching her.
I smile as I leave the room.
“Dennis, you get out of bed this instant and answer the door or I will break it down.”
“Dennis, this is your final warning.”
“I guess you’ll be needing new hinges, then.”
And with that the door blows open. I lay lethargic on the couch, gone past caring for anything. Not even she can rouse me from this stupor, I think to myself. I would chuckle at the irony of this personal bet, but I cannot even find the energy to do that. I do not greet her or even acknowledge her presence, yet she wades through the mess I have accumulated and sits next to me on the couch anyway. She leans down and rests against my chest. She lies on top of me for a moment, rubbing my wiry muscles and kissing my neck. I should kiss her back, but I cannot. My eyes are shut, lost to the guilt of dreams. She sits up again, seeing that this tactic will get her nowhere. She places a hand on my bare chest and kisses my forehead. She mumbles something about a fever and then stands. She goes over to the windows. They are so thoroughly covered in drapes that the room is nearly pitch black. She reaches up to pull back the drapes.
“Don’t do that!” I manage to rasp out quickly. She just smiles and throws the curtains wide open.
I raise a hand to block out the sun.
I glance at the clock on the microwave as I enter out kitchen. 3:47. I grimace in spite of myself. This is getting ridiculous. I am a grown man who should be getting a full night’s sleep. I should set a good example for Alexis”face my fears and all”but I am not going back to bed tonight. I am no better than a little kid who thinks the nightmares will be waiting for me back in bed.
Instead of dwelling on the dream I put on some milk for cocoa. Alexis will be coming in a moment”she’s always disturbingly intuitive when it comes to my bad nights. I think she inherited it from Louisa. Right on queue I hear the slight thud of feet in the hall. I pull down another mug. I hear a yawn as she walks into the room. She wraps her little arms around my legs and I turn around to scoop her up like I usually do. She leans her petite head against my chest when I pick her up.
“Did you have a bad dream, père?” she asks me softly, not quite awake yet. I do not answer. I simply kiss her forehead and set her down so I can pour the cocoa. She takes the mug from me and goes to sit down at the table. She pushes back a long strand of white blonde hair behind her ear and stares at the mug for a moment. Then she looks up at me.
“Are you going to sit down or not?” she asks. Just like her mother. She even does the pout. I walk over and sit.
I enter the train with an empty feeling. I wonder whom I will sit with this year. I don’t exactly know. Colin isn’t here to lead the way. It was sort of just him and me last year. The only Muggleborns foolish enough to go to Hogwarts. Even most of our house avoided us. I didn’t hold it against them: they were scared for themselves. It just makes it harder now.
I let myself be pushed along by the current of other kids running along the corridor. I’ll just choose a random door. That’s a good idea. Besides, there is no need to worry about politics and old friendships when you’re alone. I push open a door two compartments further down. All full. Another six down? Full there too. I double back four. Only one person sits inside, yet I hesitate at the door. I summon my courage and push open the door and stop abruptly when I see the girl inside.
It is one of those moments I wish I had brought Colin’s camera with me. The shot is perfect, the light dancing across her cheekbones. Her casual pose is pure elegance without effort. She can’t be more than a second year and yet I think I’m irrevocably in love with her. I shut my mouth, but stand for another moment or so. She looks up at me finally.
“Zo, are you going to zit down, or stand zere gaping at me all day?”
I take the seat across from her and she looks pacified for the moment. She returns to staring wistfully out the window. I clear my throat and she looks back to me. Seeing this as a queue to begin a conversation, I ask, “So you’re from France?”
She rolls her eyes, disdain written across her features, “I vould zink zat it vas obvious. Ma père decided it vould be best eef I study at Hogvarts vile he vorks for your ministry,” in an undertone, she adds “J’ai préfère la Beauxbatons Académie.”
She goes back to staring out the window. I can’t bring myself to reply. I could tell her that it could be worse; that her father could be dead and that she could be alone, but this conversation has already lasted too long. I lean my head against the window and fall asleep.
I tuck Alexis back into bed and with a kiss. She grabs my hand with her tiny one as I turn to leave her. Her petite face is crinkled with concern. “I love you père, even if you are still a bit broken,” she whispers. I take her in my arms again and hug her tightly. She kisses my cheek as I let her go. “Père, can I come with you this time?” she asks. I debate it silently. But she knows she has won. She climbs out of bed and puts on her boots and her jumper. I leave her for a moment to go find some shoes.
This is progress, I tell myself. I usually don’t allow anyone to come with me when this house gets far too small and I need to escape its confines. I do want her to come, and she might make an interesting subject. I tie my shoes and make sure hers are firmly tied before going in search of the camera, which I find under the stack of mail I’ve been putting off replying to. I throw on a light windbreaker, take her hand in mine and head out into the brisk August morning.
I have spoken little to the pretty blonde throughout my fifth and sixth years, so I am surprised that she knows my birthday, let alone got me a present. The shiny paper glints in the sunlight as I debate opening it. She’ll be mad at me if I don’t even open it. At long last I pull it down from my slight stack of presents and begin unwrapping. I tear off the paper slowly, still unsure. Still hesitant.
At last the box appears and I drag a Nikon camera from the mess of wrapping paper. I lift it experimentally up to my eye and snap a photo. I’m not going to force her to take it back, I decide as my hand moulds to the grip of it. It is far too nice of a present for an acquaintance to give an acquaintance, but I’m going to keep it anyway.
I walk out of my dormitory, leaving the rest of my presents unopened, and head to breakfast. She spots me with the thing thumping against my chest as I walk in and comes over. “Do you like it?” she asks. I note that her accent has faded a bit. All I can do is nod, I am so speechless. She smiles and takes my hand loosely in hers. I can take it no longer. I’m beginning to lose myself in fantasies of her. She is far too pretty for her own good.
Despite myself, I manage to spit out “WillyoucomewithmetoHogsmeadethisweekend?”
She smiles even brighter and nods yes.
Alexis runs up ahead, already guessing our destination lays at the beach. I take a picture of her carefree run and allow myself to be lost in the moment. This is nice I decide, noticing that the sun’s rays are beginning to color the sky. Alexis should come more often with me. Her laughter is a nice sound this early in the morning. She waves back at me and I take another picture.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom
Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
Beyond the Sea by Emily_the_Poet
Chapter Endnotes: Ha! and you thought I'd killed him! *snickers*