The Multitudes Within Me (Sequel to The Sound of Ice)

27

I wake up in the middle screaming, my voice scratchy, unable to breathe. Tom is standing in my doorway like a ghost, squinting with fatigue.

"Sammy," he says. "Sammy. You're alright, kid."

It takes me a second to get my bearings. I sit up and run my hand through sweaty hair - the NASA book on my desk, the darkness and coldness of the night, the blankets that have piled on the floor beside the bed. Tom's voice is strikingly familiar - he talked to me that way when I was little and sick with a fever. But it's not right, because now I'm eighteen years old and he's the one that's sick, and I'm not taking care of him.

"I didn't mean to wake you, Tom," I say, and I still taste blood in my mouth, feel phantom pains in my side, a phantom kiss on my lips. "I'm sorry."

"Do you need anything?

"No, no. I'm okay." My chest is rising and falling choppily, and I rub my eyes. "Really, I'm sorry. Do you need anything?"

"'I'm alright," says Tom. "Goodnight, kid."

He leaves my bedroom door open, like he did when I was little. I toss and turn for a little, staring up at the ceiling, before pulling out my laptop and clicking play on an old movie. It is only then, with the hazy blur of the black and white and quiet voices, that I drift into blissful unconsciousness.

~

The St. Anne mall isn't very big, but since it's one of the only sources of entertainment here, it's always busy. I walk beside Cameron, stuffing my hands in my hoodie pockets, breathing in the smells of the mall - fast food, warm pretzels, thick perfume.

Cameron runs his fingers through his hair and pulls on a Leafs baseball hat. "I want to buy a necklace for my mom."

"I think she'd really like that."

"I hope so. And for Hailey, there's this dollhouse she's been wanting. I'd told Mom I'd buy it for her." He smiles, but it seems sad, for some reason.

We walk through the mall mostly in silence. I'm mad at you, but I love you. Guilt still sits heavy on my chest. We walk past a tall Christmas tree in the mall concourse, and I squint up at the angel on the top.

Cameron buys the dollhouse first - it's pretty nice, yellow walls and three stories, with little door handles that turn. A holiday jingle is playing throughout the department store, and employees offer free samples of chocolates, cologne, hand lotion.

As we're walking to the jewelry section, Cameron is stopped by two kids, maybe twelve or thirteen, asking for a picture. I lean against the wall, feeling my lips twitch into a smile as Cameron smiles handsomely for the photo.

"You're so popular," I say when he's finished.

He shrugs. He doesn't even know.

I help him pick out the jewelry - a simple crystal necklace for Ms. Beckett, a jewel-studded ring for Veronica. He wanders around the jewelry counters like a lost puppy, peering through the glass displays, yellow lights softening his face and reflections swimming in his eyes.

"There's supposed to be a big snowstorm tomorrow night," says Cameron. He glances at me. "Hailey's excited. She wants to build a snowman with you, was talking about it all during breakfast."

"I'd love to build a snowman with her."

"We'll watch an old movie, too. And have hot chocolate. It's the tradition, remember?"

I stuff my hands in my pockets. "I do remember."

Cameron looks away and runs his fingers gently over a row of bracelets. I feel sad for a second, because everything feels different now. And maybe our relationship will never be the same.