Lifetimes

A sobbing wreck, Demitri turns off his Jeep. He flies out, slams his door, and races to my side to get me out of the car. He’s on a mission, and I’m not in charge. I’m caught between terror and hope. I need help so badly, but I’m afraid. There’s no going back now that someone knows. I’m facing a complete overhaul of my life, and I’m terrified of how messy it’s about to get.

Demitri wraps his arm around my waist and starts to drag me up the walkway. When I don’t run fast enough, he scoops me up and runs the rest of the way to the front door. He manages to turn the knob with his hand that’s holding my back. As he frantically hip bumps it open, it slams against the wall, and we skid through.

“HELP!” Demitri bellows in desperation.

Mr. Cantrell hops up from the couch, stunned. “What’s wrong?”

I start to inform him. “I have an issue . . .”

Demitri interrupts me as he plunks me on my feet. “She must stay here tonight!” he screeches.

“Done.” Mr. Cantrell grabs Demitri by the arms. “I know whatever this is, is serious, but I need you to calm down and talk to me.”

Frantic, Demitri grabs my hand and unbuttons the cuff of my flannel. I yank my hand back, spiraling into a panic because this is all moving so fast. Demitri’s eyes are wild. Panting, he doubles over, his hands on his knees.

“Everyone, slow down,” Mr. Cantrell implores. “Demitri, I can empathically feel that her emotions are cyclonic. Her primary emotion is fear that this will unravel everything.” He looks to Demitri. “You’re making her panic worse. We’re going to fix whatever this is, but we can do so calmly.”

“You aren’t safe with me here!” I wail. I rush to the window and look out, surveying the street like a nut.

Mr. Cantrell crosses to the door and locks the bolt. I point to the chain lock, and he slides it into place.

I exhale hard.

Mr. Cantrell gives the little security chain a comically unsure glance. “See, Mel, we’re safe now,” he says, like it’s preposterous.

Demitri takes a huge breath. “I need to set a few ground rules.”

“Okay,” Mr. Cantrell replies, supportive, but seemingly confused.

“No panicking. No calling an ambulance.”

Mr. Cantrell nods. “I think I can agree to those terms. If I can’t, we’ll discuss it before I do anything. Now, tell me what’s happening.”

Demitri turns to me. “I need you to give me your hand.”

I close my eyes and put the back of my hand in Demitri’s. He pulls up my sleeve to my elbow, revealing the two-day old cut marks.

“Shit!” Mr. Cantrell exclaims. “I’m pulling every set of blinds down and freezing time.”

Confused, I look to Demitri.

He exhales hard and explains, “My dad used to freeze time when things became too much for me. We’d be in our own world, without anything from the outside interfering. Phones silenced, blinds pulled, nothing but a safe space where we made rules that we needed to get through it.”

A wave of relief so strong that it nearly drops me reverberates through the house. It’s not audible, but the resounding energy wave is enough to make everyone’s head spin.

“There it is.” Mr. Cantrell puts his hands around my face. “Do you need time to stop?”

I nod desperately.

“You need to call your parents for permission to stay here,” Mr. Cantrell guides.

I shake my head. “My parents are in Japan. I need to let Trey know that I’m not coming home.”

“Oh boy,” Mr. Cantrell mutters.

“I’ll call the staff line.”

“The moment the call ends, time stops,” Mr. Cantrell says.

I dig my cell phone out of the front pouch of my backpack and dial the kitchen line at Mabel’s. Constance answers, and I inform her, “It’s Melanie. I need to handle a few things. Can you let Trey know that I’ll see him at school on Thursday?”

“You aren’t coming home?” Constance asks, concern in her voice. “Is everything all right?”

“No. I’m fine. Something unexpected came up, and my parents aren’t here to handle it. Family business. I don’t want to disturb Trey during class. I won’t have cell phone coverage.”

“No problem. I’ll let Mama Mabel and Trey know. Talk to you soon.”

I hang up and turn off my phone, tossing it in my backpack.

“Ground rules. There’s only one. When time stops, none of the normal rules apply.” Mr. Cantrell looks at me pointedly. “Where do you want to start?”

I look at Demitri. “I can’t have you gone. That distant look you give me every day is gut-wrenching.”

Demitri shakes his head. “I won’t be gone. The second I saw your wrist, all gone was gone.”

I manage a little smile. I love that Demitri riddles like I do when he’s flustered.

His dad looks at Demitri pointedly. “She refills energy reserves when she sleeps, correct?”

Demitri nods.

I put my hands flat on Demitri’s chest. His reserves are so bottomed out that his usually vibrant energy only faintly hums. “That’s why you emotionally cratered. Anarchy could reign, and you’d stand there, calm and stoic. I’m sorry, Demitri. I didn’t notice because I was so out of sorts.”

“I don’t reach a meditation state anymore, and I haven’t slept well in months.”

I narrow my eyes. “You needed to tell me, D.”

Demitri rubs his face, and his dad says, “He was convinced you were okay, and he didn’t want to screw your life up.”

“I’ve definitely not been okay,” I scoff. My head sags.

“Are you comfortable sleeping in Demitri’s room?” Mr. Cantrell asks.

It may be unorthodox, but so are we. As energy workers, we can stabilize each other while we sleep. Sure, it creates some boundary challenges, but desperate conditions like we’re in require unconventional options.

I nod. “I need to sleep without night terrors.”

“Do you want to discuss your wrist now, or sleep and talk about it later?” Demitri asks.

“Later. I’m exhausted.”

“You need to promise me you aren’t going to hurt yourself if I let you sleep without discussing this first,” Mr. Cantrell says in an authoritative voice.

“I promise.”

He looks to Demitri. “Pull down all the blinds, and double-check that your windows are locked.”

“Thank you for helping me,” I say to Mr. Cantrell. “I had no intention of piling up in your son’s bed when I got up this morning.”

“I know. I wouldn’t usually allow it, but you are a special case. Where is your car?”

“In the school student parking lot,” I reply.

Mr. Cantrell looks at Demitri. “I’m going to have my brother drive me to get Melanie’s car now so that Trey doesn’t camp out by it when he realizes Melanie is missing. I’ll park it in the garage, so no one knows she’s here. I’ll be back. Will you two be okay?”

We nod, and I give him my car key. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo,” Mr. Cantrell says while he dials a number on his cell phone and heads out the door.

Demitri locks the front door and guides me to his room. It’s perfectly neat like it always was when I used to come over. He closes the bedroom door, checks the window lock, and pulls the blinds down. He pulls back the comforter, and we climb in. When he turns his back like he used to when we’d fall asleep together, I curl up against him, my mind a whirlwind of a million thoughts and emotions.

We lie there for a long moment before he says, “Nope.” He scootches about.

I chuckle as the covers dance while Demitri disappears. He settles in, all his tension melting away as he laces his hand with mine and pulls it under his chin. He wiggles again before exhaling hard. Within moments, I feel his energy shift to a sleep state.

I lie there for a long while, wrapped in Demitri’s warbling energy. He’s dangerously exhausted.

The door cracks open, and Mr. Cantrell peeks in.

I smile at him and whisper, “Can you come here?”

Mr. Cantrell looks quizzically at the mound under the covers.

I giggle. “I love it when Demitri’s a toddler. I’m burning up, though. He’s a furnace when his energy reserves fill. Can you pull the bedspread off us? I don’t want to move. He’s happy.”

Mr. Cantrell carefully pulls down the bedspread and sheet, revealing Demitri wrapped around me, gripping my hand under his chin, still with his cheek on my stomach. His leg is tangled in both of mine.

Mr. Cantrell’s expression softens almost painfully. “Are you okay with this?”

I nod and rub Demitri’s hair. He sighs in his sleep.

“He’s not usually this snuggly, but I love it.”

Mr. Cantrell sits on the edge of the bed while he surveys his son contemplatively. “That’s exactly how he used to sleep with his favorite stuffed bear when he was a baby.”

I quirk my mouth. “I like being a stuffed bear.”

“I know he’s supposed to be helping you,” Mr. Cantrell says, “but I think you both are going to need help. You have no idea how bad things have been around here. I’ve never dealt with anything like Demitri the past four months. He got home the day after your handfasting, and sobbed until he threw up. I’ve hardly slept since, unless Demitri was at school. I’m ready every day when he pulls into the driveway. When he gets inside the house, he melts down.” Mr. Cantrell rubs his face hard.

“I had no idea that was happening.”

“I figured. There’s zero way you would let him live like that had you known.”

“He’s been so distant,” I say dejectedly. “It’s like I was a ghost to him. I started to think he hated me.”

“Nope,” Mr. Cantrell scoffs. “He certainly doesn’t. What happened to make you two talk again?”

When I exhale hard, it makes Demitri flit about in his sleep. I rub the back of his head softly and whisper, “You’re okay.”

He settles down again with a big sigh.

Once we’re sure he’s still asleep, I answer. “I have a big bruise. He saw it when I took off my sweatpants in rehearsal. He marched me into Mr. Isley’s office, closed the door, and suddenly he was Demitri again. Then he saw my wrist and collapsed emotionally in way very similar to what you described.”

Mr. Cantrell takes my hand from the back of Demitri’s head and looks at my wrist. I giggle when Demitri makes little snuffling noises. I rub his jaw with the thumb he’s clutching under his chin. Demitri scrunches his chin tighter against my hand and settles down again.

Mr. Cantrell’s penetrating gaze stares into my eyes. “Melanie, I’m scared I’m going to lose both of you. I really need you to open up while you’re here.”

“I’m incredibly conflicted about being here,” I admit.

“Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

I swallow hard. “I’m terrified of what Trey will do.”

Mr. Cantrell’s gaze deepens. “How dangerous is he?”

“Deadly,” I reply.

“How pissed will he be that you don’t come home tonight?”

I shrug. “That could go two ways. He’ll either be thrilled to have me out of his hair, or he’ll hunt me down. If he does, I guarantee that Adam, Demitri, and Zane are where he’ll start. I need to warn the other two.”

“Trey won’t go after Zane. He’s intimidated by him.” Mr. Cantrell shakes his head, amused. “He might go after Adam, but Adam can hold his own.”

“True,” I reply, my breath hitching. “What about you and Demitri? Are you willing to face this?”

Mr. Cantrell smirks. “I’m meaner than I look, and that guy,” he gestures to his sleeping son, “is a beast.”

I look down at Demitri, unsure.

Mr. Cantrell gives me a pointed look. “Trust me. He covers it well, but Demitri is easily as vicious as Trey and Adam.”

“Thank you for helping me.”

Mr. Cantrell blows out a huge breath. “You’re welcome. You need to sleep. I’ll be in the living room, alert and watching for trouble. I’ve got the house shielded in case Trey comes looking for you.” He gets up and heads for the door. “Holler if you need me.”