The Thought Keepers: Ability

Chapter 2: A Lovely Phone Call

I woke to the sound of my bedroom door opening. Without a word, my uncle walked in holding a steaming cup of herbal tea. 

For a second, I just stared at him. Sometimes it struck me how much he resembled my father. Especially his light brown skin and dimpled cheeks. But Uncle Ethan was much shorter than my dad, who was a full six feet. Uncle Ethan's hugs weren't the same either, though I'd never tell him that. 

On a good day, it took no more than a second for his soft brown eyes to crinkle at the corners, and a laugh to light up his entire face. Today was not a good day. The worry lines on Uncle Ethan's face were pronounced, and he had no trace of a smile. 

He walked over to my nightstand, setting the tea down gently. Uncle Ethan sat down at the foot of my bed, looking at me as if he would take all the pain from my body if only he could. He was always giving me that look, like he needed to work twice as hard to make up for everything.   

"How long was I out this time?" I asked, sitting up in my bed. I leaned over to take the cup of tea, smelling it first. It was Uncle Ethan's personal blend of herbs, a blend that he refused to tell me the recipe for. 

"About three hours, give or take. Are you feeling okay?" He asked. I nodded even though I wasn't sure. 

I took a small sip of the tea, taking in its earthy tang. The liquid was dark green, and it tasted like dirt every time. I tried not to curl my lip in disgust while setting the cup down. "Did I even go to school today?"

"Yeah, you went. But you weren't there past lunch," Uncle Ethan told me. He crossed his arms and took a sweep of my room, like he was searching for drugs and alcohol. There was nothing unusual, just shelves full of crystal books and YA novels, a growing rock collection on my desk, and walls covered with an unreasonable amount of K-pop posters. 

I wanted to tell him not to bother, that the last thing I wanted was to get intoxicated and fall right back asleep, but I didn't. If my dreams got any worse, I feared he would put me in a facility the way he did my mother. 

I had a condition called narcolepsy. My doctor said it was a chronic brain disorder that caused victims to go into REM sleep a few minutes after closing their eyes. I've had it for as long as I can remember. 

Excessive Daytime Sleepiness, or EDS, was a symptom that came with narcolepsy. Typically it felt like sleeping for hours, and still feeling the need to sleep after waking. Not only that, but individuals with EDS often experienced things like mental cloudiness, lack of energy and depression. I like to think I just do things slower than most. I don't often acknowledge the fact that I have a condition, because if I let it affect me, then it will officially take over my life. I feared in some ways it already had. 

That was why I typically looked out the window at school without paying attention to anything else. It took all of my effort not to fall right back asleep, and right back into that same dream where shadows whispered to me as they skulked around in darkness. I thought about telling Violet, but I didn't want to burden her with any more of my problems. I already ranted enough to her about my mother. 

I went with my uncle on frequent visits to the doctor, "checking my progress" as Dr. Brown always said. But I always felt the immense pressure to hide, to not tell anyone about the depth and the realness of those dreams I'd been having. The fact that I could feel rain, smell moisture and taste ash on my tongue every time I electrocuted myself. That sometimes I woke up with that same taste in my mouth, and had to rinse it out. 

I couldn't tell him, because departing from everyday reality is what took my mother from us. I couldn't let myself get carried away with dreams. 

"You should call your mom," he nagged, throwing me a look. I startled, wondering if he did in fact have the ability to read my mind. After a glassy-eyed second, I blinked, looking away.