Page 101 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
“You said youusedto hear you were a derp. Do you not anymore?”
His purrs rattled to a stop. “No. Not for a long time.”
And there was his sorrow again, cutting through my bones, making meache.For things like home. Or my friends. For the comfort of a simpler life.
I lowered myself into a sitting position and reached down, rubbing my hands over the top of his head. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t—” he began.
“I’m sorry that I canfeelyour pain,” I continued, “but I don’t know how to ease it. And you eased mine. I wish I could do the same for you. But I’m not sure how. So I’m sorry.”
Silence stretched between us for several long heartbeats.
“Pippi, I-I…”
Alistair started. And stuttered to a stop.
“How…”
Again, he chewed on a word and then spat it back out.
“I wish…”
I kept stroking the top of his head, giving him the time, the space, to sort his thoughts.
“I think…” His words were syrupy as he started speaking for the fourth time. “I’d like to tell you my story now.”
“Once, Idreamed,”Alistair started slowly. Hesitantly. As though forcibly having to drag each word from the bowels of his brain. “Too much. I got l-lost in the dreams sometimes. Especially when they were big. And I had abigdream. I saw a…split…a divide in the world. And I wanted to…connect…bridgethe divide. Everyone thought I’d fail. That the dream was too much. I tried anyway. And I made it real. But it took from me.Stole.My t-t-time. Days. Life.Indigo.”
Sadness knifed into my belly as that soft—so, so, so softly—spoken name tumbled through my ears.
Indigo.
“I met her before the dream con-consumed me. She wa-was….” he stuttered. Sighed, billowing the air through his nostrils in a rushing roar. “Everything.I loved her. And I should’ve…” He shuddered around a zap of despair. “I should have ended the dream. But I got lost in it. In the dream. The work. Thevision. Lost. My head i-ignoring my heart. I was s-s-s-selfish. Stupid. My love started to slip, and I was too lost to see it.”
“Oh, Alistair.” I stroked his head, offering what comfort I could.
“This dream…it…worked. In ways I didn’t…But it—” Alistair choked, trying to chew too many words at once and getting them all stuck in his throat.
“Take a breath,” I said. “Give yourself a few seconds.”
His entire body shook around his inhale. And quivered on his exhale.
“I miss…speaking…talking…quickly,” he huffed.
“I would too.”
“I h-h-hate that I can’t—” he bit off, making a sound like he was hocking the stuck words from his throat.
Molten trickles of frustration seeped into my chest.
I flattened my palm against the top of his head, wishing I could pour peace into him, the way he always fed calmness into me. I wanted toholdhim. Wrap him in a big, squishy hug. Press myself flush against him until he felt the pace of my breathing and could coerce his lungs to follow the same rhythm.
But I couldn’t doanything,except perch on top of his head and hope he got some comfort from my presence. And maybe he did. Because after several long heartbeats, Alistair soothed himself enough to speak again.
“The dream worked. But the more it worked, the more it d-d-demanded. I kept giving. The dream kept wanting. And Indigo…” A ruffly sigh escaped him. “She kept f-f-forgiving. When she shouldn’t have. She stayed. When she shouldn’t have. She deserved more. Someone who wasn’t always lost. She died. The dream…what I hadmadewith this dream…it…it took her. And I wasn’t there. I couldn’t stop it. She died. Alone.”
My blood turned to ice. “Oh, Alistair, I’m?—”
