Restless

New York City was definitely a breath of fresh air, figuratively speaking, of course. Skyla could keep to herself while seated in a busy cafe surrounded by all different types of people. She did not have to talk to them or pretend anymore. Skyla's father would financially support her for exactly one year. This was against her mother's strong objections. Skyla's mother wanted her to stay home. She was very lonely in the big house all by herself. Skyla's father had ignored her mother as usual but agreed that after the year, Skyla would have to "get a real job." He didn't consider waitressing at the Italian place on Second Street a good career move. He thought that after he'd spent six figures on a college education, Skyla would be able to find something better.

Brooke was lucky. Her parents were always traveling somewhere. Her father was a successful writer and her mother a painter of sorts. They never much bothered with Brooke or her older sister. When Brooke had left home to stay in the dorms on the other side of town, they sold their large Chestnut Hill home and moved to a charming cottage on Nantucket. Brooke had always spent much of her time at Skyla's house, so the loss wasn't really felt. Brooke's older sister, Maggie, checked up on Brooke every once in a blue moon. Maggie was off in L.A. now being an actor or singer or something like that. Maggie was a lot like Brooke's mom, Claire. Brooke prided herself on being the very opposite. Claire had been a hippie and spent much of her teens and twenties hanging with Skyla's mom. Claire got married after becoming pregnant. Vera followed suit, figuring it was about time anyway. The two managed to keep partying with their new families in little apartments in the Boston area. When it was time for Maggie to start school, both families finally settled down in a beautiful New England town close to Boston where Skyla's father had inherited a home. Claire and Vera got pregnant at the same time and named their daughters to signify their love of nature and all things beautiful: Brooke and Skyla. Skyla's father grew tired of the lot rather quickly. He left soon after Skyla was born.

Skyla didn't care what her father or anyone else wanted for her. She liked feeling as if she were just passing through, as if she weren't tied to anything here, especially a job. Skyla had just been telling Brooke that morning how nice it was to feel normal. There was a slight danger in Skyla's falling for Seth, the manager of the restaurant. Every day, she and Brooke came up with new reasons to stay away from him. He was ten years older. He had slept with Katie, one of the other waitresses, who already hated Skyla. He would certainly not find Skyla charming when he found out about her "gifts." These sessions proved to be unsuccessful, because one night the week before Skyla found herself following him home.

Work was now unbearable-just like Brooke had warned it would be. Seth no longer flirted with Skyla. Seth was now all Skyla could think about. Katie was nasty to the customers at Skyla's tables and started sabotaging orders with the help of the chef, who happened to be Katie's cousin. Skyla gave up her shift one night because she couldn't handle Seth's ignoring her for one more evening. Instead of subjecting herself to the torture, Skyla went to her favorite cafe to read her newest book. She enjoyed her tea and basked in her new-found normalcy.

Skyla had just started the second chapter when she stopped midsentence. A shiver ran up her spine. She felt him. Or maybe she just sensed him: that tingle, the hair standing up on the back of her neck, and her heart pounding like it would jump out of its cavity. She was immediately covered in a black cloud. It suffocated her and kept her frozen in place. A silent but deafening boom rang in her ears: terror!

Skyla knew him immediately, because she had felt him in her dreams. He had appeared in several of the nightmares that had followed Yvette's reading. It had been three months since the clairvoyant had turned on a switch for Skyla. Now there were plenty of dreams and visions that flooded Skyla's world. They warned Skyla of the imminent danger that lingered between worlds. She mustered the strength to look up and found he was looking down at her. He was staring right into her soul. He was a towering six foot four at the very least. He had pitch-black hair and eyes the color of coal. Time stood still. A tear ran down Skyla's face as their eyes locked. Then he just turned, walked up to the counter, paid for a cup of coffee, and walked away.

Maybe Skyla was mistaken. Maybe she made things up in her head. She thought this was the man of her nightmares, but she had to be crazy. Skyla would tell Brooke, though, and Brooke would tell her that she wasn't crazy. She would remind Skyla of all the other times she'd had to tell her she wasn't crazy. Brooke would mention the other strange things that had happened since they'd known each other. There was the time when they were playing with Barbie dolls and Skyla made the doll's hair grow longer. There was the time during a school dance when Skyla realized she could read minds if she wanted to. That resulted in Brooke's dating Mike Connell for a few weeks. Skyla and Brooke would use this skill to their benefit more than a few times during the next few years. Oh, right, and there was the time in high school when she literally heated up a room. That was Brooke's all-time favorite.

Brooke had been having a few girls sleep over after her sweet-sixteen birthday party. Skyla was so anxious that night. She'd never felt comfortable around those girls. All of a sudden, the room heated up to the point where they had to open the windows despite the fact that it was the middle of February.

"Weird," Brooke said.

"Cool," the others said.

But Brooke was always the honest one.

A voice broke through Skyla's thoughts. "Hey. Hey. You okay?"

"Huh?"

"You okay? You look ... I don't know." He was a nice-looking guy: dirty-blond hair and greenish-gray eyes. Not from here, that's for sure.

He helped himself to the seat across from Skyla. If Skyla hadn't been so glad to have friendly company, she would have been quite offended by his boldness in interrupting her reading.

"I mean, sorry, but you looked like you just saw a ghost. Are you going to faint or something? Your face is white as a sheet." He stammered a bit.

"Were you watching me?" Skyla asked him, but her attention was really focused on the side window. Watching the dark-haired man walk away. She noticed he had a dark glow about him, too. Was it was red? It was hard to tell under the streetlights.

"Do you know that guy?" he asked.

"Uh, no. No. I am okay. I just, well, I thought I knew him at first, but I don't. Everything is fine." Actually, everything did start to feel fine again. She felt the panic leave her. It trailed right out the door and followed the dark-haired man out onto Third Street and made a left on Avenue D.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," Skyla said. She smiled in spite of herself.

He introduced himself, and she did the same. His name was Alex LaBauve. That is a pretty name. Those are pretty eyes, too.

Skyla took better notice of her companion. She sat up a bit straighter and tucked her hair behind her ears. Is he famous? There was something about him that seemed so familiar. Skyla was about to ask Alex if they had met before but decided not to do that. He was probably famous, a model or an actor.

He was obviously a nice guy, caring and observant. Looking past the chiseled jaw and broad shoulders, he seemed pretty normal, pretty ordinary. But what did Skyla know about normal and ordinary anyway? Maybe Alex tried just a bit too hard, though: jeans and a polo shirt, hair not too neat but definitely messed up in the right way, teeth very, very white. Maybe he was trying really hard to fit in. That was odd for such a good-looking guy.

"So, you aren't from here, are you?" Skyla thought she would get a background check.

"Well, I am from here now."

"Right, but where did you come from?"

"All over," Alex said.

"Well, your accent sounds a bit Southern. Are you from the South?" she pushed.

"Yes. It isn't too interesting. Where are you from, Skyla Jane Judge?" He gave her a little smirk, as if he were embarrassed to even ask.

His head tilted down, his eyes shyly looking at her, imploring Skyla to answer such a simple yet direct question. She guessed he could be trouble after all.

"Me? Oh, I am from Chestnut Hill, a town right outside Boston. It's a college town. Nothing much else to say about it."

Skyla noticed that Alex scrunched his face a bit, and she wondered what that meant.

"Never heard of it?" Skyla prompted.

"Sounds fascinating," Alex whispered with a little smile.

"Oh, it is quite beautiful and peaceful, when school's out anyway. I most likely will never go back." It was a statement and a realization all in one. "And you?" Skyla pressed again.

"Well, I guess my family wandered a bit. We mostly lived in Georgia, but I ended up doing most of my growing up in Louisiana, in New Orleans. I have a twin sister who lives in the French Quarter still. Everyone else blew away with the wind or perhaps melted away in the intolerable heat." Alex gave a little chuckle.

Oh, no. A poet.

"I left about six months ago. I will definitely never go back." He did a little tap on the table to add punctuation to the pledge.

For some reason, Skyla didn't believe him. His eyes had a sad and longing look. He must be a bit lonely, too, she thought-homesick.

"I'll never go back for good, anyway," he said. "I guess I am about due for a visit soon."

"Well, I have never been to New Orleans. It has always intrigued me, though. I would love to take a road trip there. Maybe it would be fun to take a drive down the coast and check out some new places on the way." She'd come up with the idea on the spot. It seemed to come out of thin air, but it was just what she needed.

New York City suddenly seemed ... confining. Skyla felt that old familiar trapped feeling and guessed it was time to move on. She'd lived in the same house in Chestnut Hill for seventeen years. She'd never realized that the uneasiness she felt was actually restlessness. After Skyla had left home for college, it was torture to spend a significant amount of time in one place. The first college she'd gone to, Northeastern, was too close to home. She told her parents she longed for a campus life. Then she transferred to the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, but it was too big. Brooke begged Skyla to try Boston College. She thought it would be just right. Well, it turned out to be fine. Why not? Though it wasn't a better fit, Brooke was there. Skyla's mother was happy to have her close by. Her father was at his wits' end on the other side of the world. Skyla was sick of packing and moving. So she stayed and finished at Boston College. In fact, she stayed on campus for all the summers, too. After the two transfers, she needed to make up some classes, and she was determined to finish on time so that she could get out on her own. Skyla's father, the successful businessman, and her stepmother, the properly pleasant and charitably busy housewife, could not understand the lack of ambition. Why not go on to law school, med school, an MBA program, etc.? Skyla's mother could not care less but wanted her to get a nice job near home. If Skyla ever got married, she would have enough sense to not have only one child. Being an only child is quite excruciating at times. It was so much stress to be such a disappointment.

"Really?" he responded to her travel plans, bringing her back to the present moment.

Alex's eyes sparkled just a bit more. Skyla must have been right about the homesickness. He was being pulled back. One could see the lure in his eyes and his too-controlled mouth. His soft lips squeezed together. He was trying not to smile, but she could see where the pink was turning white because he was pressing too hard to squash that little excited smirk. Skyla must have been staring at his mouth for a bit too long, because he became noticeably uncomfortable and shifted in his seat.

"Really," Skyla said and forced her eyes to look up.

"Well, I guess I wouldn't be much of a Southern gentleman if I didn't escort you on your road trip." He looked down.

A bit embarrassed at his offer, she figured. "Well, I guess you wouldn't. So let's start making plans," Skyla said, hoping that he wasn't a psycho and knowing Brooke would freak out.

"Um, okay. I mean, I have to ask for a week off. Do you think a week is enough? I mean ... do we drive down? Should I ask for two weeks? What about you? Do you work?"

As he rambled, Skyla thought she might rather go alone.

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