When the Leaves Stop Falling

Chapter 7

"I don't know how to use chopsticks."

Serena smiled and placed her hands over Courtney's. Nudging her pointer finger between the sticks, she guided her in how to open and close them. Dipping into the paper carton, Serena helped her pick up some shrimp fried rice, and with her hands still on hers, brought it to her mouth. "There you go. It just takes practice."

The dry heat of the day had begun to fade while the sun dipped west. It brought a beautiful arrangement of oranges and reds over the horizon and, sitting back, Serena inhaled deeply.

The balcony outside their room was just large enough to hold two plastic lawn chairs. The slight breeze cooled her warm skin and shuffled her hair. She had on a yellow spaghetti strap tank top and shorts the color of the sunset, which she feared may not be warm enough. Plus, she hadn't planned on having another passenger, so the night shirt did nothing to hide her surgical scar. It didn't bother her, as it usually does, since Courtney had scars of her own. Her companion hadn't asked about it either, just glanced at it briefly, as if not surprised, and then turned away.

Curiosity was getting the better of her. Plucking out some white rice from her own carton, she debated how to go about starting a conversation in a way that wouldn't upset Courtney. "I'll tell you about my scar if you tell me about yours."

Courtney stilled. Carefully, she placed her chopsticks in the carton and set it on the floor, appetite gone. She swallowed hard, thought about not answering, but the lure of the sunset was one unlike she'd ever seen, and Serena's kind golden eyes were holding her gaze. She sensed talking about her past with Serena would be okay. The hollow void Courtney had been living with was gone with Serena around.

"I already know about yours."

Serena's brow furrowed in confusion. "My what? My scar?"

Courtney nodded and lowered her gaze. Any moment now the judgment and skepticism would come.

"How do you know?"

Here goes. "I feel it." She patted her chest and then her temple. "When you first walked into the diner, my heart shuddered. Like it missed a few beats, and then this tingling went through me."

The confusion faded from Serena's face and was replaced by a blank expression Courtney couldn't read. Was she disgusted? Scared? "It's been happening with some people since as far back as I can remember. Sometimes it's with a touch, sometimes I just need to be in the same room. Their thoughts run over mine, and I feel what they're feeling, see what they're seeing."

Serena had no idea how to respond. She had certainly heard of psychic ability, but had never really given it much thought. People used to say it was the sight between her and Austin. Being twins they often finished each other's sentences and were extremely in tune with each other's moods. But not in the way Courtney described.

"I understand if you don't want me to continue to Georgia with you. I can hitch a ride back."

"No!" Serena drew in a breath and softened her tone. "I'm sorry." She took Courtney's hands, finding apprehension in her eyes and in the twist of her mouth. Did she think Serena would hate her? "It doesn't scare me, if that's what concerns you. You have a gift, Courtney."

"It's not a gift. It's the devil." Said deadpan, as if that was the only truth she'd known.

Serena's already fragile heart broke. "What? Who told you that?"

Courtney's face held little emotion when she tucked a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ear. "Tell me about your scar. I feel the presence, but don't know the history."

Courtney was avoiding her question, but Serena wanted her trust. "I was born with a heart defect. It didn't pump right and was weaker than it should have been. They put a pacemaker in when I was a girl, but after time it wasn't doing what they hoped it would, and not as well. I'm on a transplant list, but my blood type is too rare."

Courtney wondered whether Serena knew her voice became bored and robotic when she talked about her condition, as if she'd done it so often her life had become an uneventful story.

Serena looked out over the horizon. The sun was almost set, leaving it dark around them. "That's when I left Georgia and went to California. I didn't tell Grams or Austin about my condition getting worse, but I think Austin knew. My whole had been sheltered. 'Don't eat this.' 'Don't take on too much.' 'Don't do this, don't do that.' I was so sick of it. I needed out. Needed to...live before I died."

Serena rubbed her eyes and laid her head against the chair. "There's another surgery they said they could do. It's new. Something called a left ventricular reconstruction, or whatever." She waved her hand absently. "It's supposed to increase function by remodeling the heart, making it contract correctly. But I caught a cold bug, which led to pneumonia a couple weeks back, and I'm too weak for it."

Those golden brown eyes spilled over and tears clung to her long dark lashes. Serena's pain washed out all other thoughts in Courtney's head. It wasn't just the sickness, but fear for her brother and grandmother that tore at Serena. Courtney sensed someone else there in her friend's mind, someone who hadn't been brought up before in their short time together.

"That's what the pills are for. My kidneys started acting up, and I retain fluid if I don't watch my salt intake and how much I drink." She swept a tear from her cheek and sniffled. "I don't think it'll be much more than a few months, which is what the doctors said."

"When the leaves stop falling," Courtney mumbled. Immediately kicking herself, she swore under her breath and dropped Serena's hand as visions of red and orange leaves fell before her mind. Standing, she paced the two steps to the balcony rail and held tight.

The sky was dark as she focused up at the stars and breathed deep. A child from one of the other rooms was crying in a fit of rage, but Courtney barely heard it. Another person's anger, a long ago memory, was filling her head. "He grabbed me once, my father. Not an unusual occurrence, but that time I knew in my gut it would be different."

Serena edged forward in her chair, ignoring the comment about the leaves and straining to hear. Courtney spoke too softly, her head back, as if talking to the stars and not Serena. Her blonde hair danced at the gesture.

Courtney sighed, the sound drifting into the night. "The phone rang, or at least I thought it had. I told Dad I would get it, so he wouldn't have to get up from his chair. He had this recliner he sat in when he came home from work, gin in the crook of his arm. I went to answer the phone, it kept ringing, but he grabbed my hair from behind and threw me down."

She spoke rapidly now, a defense mechanism Serena had noticed a few times in the car, but Serena didn't move or reach out to touch her for fear she would stop talking.

"I didn't know what I did wrong. I thought I was helping, so he wouldn't have to get up. I remember thinking when he went to work the next day I should try to wash the stain out of the carpet. I kept looking at the stain while he shrieked at me and called me a witch. 'I will beat the devil out of you!' I knew then that the phone hadn't rung, not yet. I just knew it was going to. I heard it in my head." She smacked her hand against her temple, and it shook when she set it back on the rail.

Serena wanted to hug her, hold her close and soothe the hurt, take it away somehow. But Courtney didn't seem to like touch and worse, Serena feared she'd never had someone to hold her through rough times.

"The belt cracked." Courtney shuddered. "He always snapped it three times first. That's how I knew a strike was coming. He never let me look at him, face him. I was too ugly, too much a disappointment, which made him more irate. I tensed and bit my tongue until it bled. The blows didn't hurt so much then. But that time it did. This warm liquid spilled over my back. I thought he'd dumped coffee on me at first. Then my back burned. Throbbed. It was so hot."

As if the memory snapped her back, Courtney turned around, gaze sweeping over the tears slipping from Serena's eyes. Serena didn't blink, or wipe them away, just let them fall from her chin and into her lap, a silent show of understanding for Courtney.

"He only hit me once that time, that's all it took. He slit my skin open with the force of the leather, and it bled such a long time. He was mad about that too, but afterwards, he lookedashamed almost. Like he was sorry he did it." She leaned against the railing. "Keeping the wound dressed was hard. I couldn't reach my back. I think that's why it scarred so bad."

Falling silent, Courtney took in Serena's trembling hands, her pale face marred with tears, and immediately regretted the decision to tell her. She never spoke about her past. It shamed her to know what her father had done, what she'd made him do to her for being the way she was. She hadn't meant to say so much, but once she started, it all came pouring out.

Serena wouldn't be as nice to her now that she knew the truth. Courtney was a freak, had always known that. They wouldn't be friends or have late night chats or anything else normal people did. Serena would detach, and regret taking Courtney along. The pain of it shot through her, and left her bereft.

Might as well put the nail in the coffin. "I can still smell the gin on his breath and my blood on his hands. He didn't hit me again for a long time after that, but eventually, he started again. Again and again." Because she deserved it.

Courtney ran her hands up and down her exposed arms, wondering if Serena would ditch her at first light. A shudder tore through her. When did it get so cold? When did the fear of losing someone, especially a stranger, make her so unbearably frigid?

Serena hadn't moved, still composed with a stick straight spine and tears running down her thin face.

Giving her time and a chance to bolt, Courtney slid the glass door on its rails and stepped inside, leaving it open for Serena to follow.

It was almost sunrise when she did.