He didn’t speak, but the look he gave her told her everything. She read his heart. It called to her, imploring, “I can’t do this anymore,” clearly as if Matt had spoken the words aloud. “I love you so much but it’s killing me. Eating me up inside. Chasing me back down into the bottle, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to come back out.” His eyes searched hers for something. They were so desperate, staring at her. The weight of them straining on her heart. She was stuck. She was reading him, and it took all of her energy. The vibrations came off him in unsteady waves, pulsing at her in uneven beats that she could tactilely feel, like heavy raindrops beating on her skin. The connection, the love between them had always been too strong.
The minute fragments of him which used to be whole skittered about within the vibrations like wild, untamed animals. Frightened. Weakened. The fear poured out of him so expeditiously it assaulted Ravynn’s senses and challenged her ability to stay standing. She raised her hands in front of her body, as if to fend off an invisible onslaught. Ravynn saw now that Matt not only feared for her, but he feared her. “Maybe she’s sick,” she read those frenzied thoughts. “Her father was schizophrenic. Maybe she is too. How did I miss the signs? I should tell Ray.”
Ravynn didn’t think before she spoke, “Don’t tell Ray.”
The fear she sensed congealed in the air between them. Like some heavy, emotional sludge made real that she couldn’t pull herself free of. Instead, she pulled her arms in tight, stroking her own shoulders. “I’m not sick.”
Matt recoiled, either from her words or from the emotional turmoil undulating through the air. He staggered and stepped backward, until his back hit the wall. His eyes welled up with tears, and all she could sense coming off him now was dread. Pure terror. No longer love, worry, or hurt.
“What?” he asked. His voice cracked. “How?” He tried to take another step back, but his heel kicked the wall, a solid reminder that there was nowhere to go.
Ravynn didn’t answer him. As much as it pained her to watch him struggle, she could do nothing to assuage him.
He reached to the side, fumbling for the door handle, as if poised to make a hasty retreat. “Explain,” he beseeched her. “Explain the journals. The events. The dates.” His eyes were wild, they raced about, searching her face and trying to find the woman he knew somewhere within.
“We’ve been over this, Matt. You know I can’t.” Her words came out glacial and apathetic. Even to her ear, it made her cringe. It had to be that way.
He snarled, ‘I know you won’t! It’s madness! You know that, right? Most of these dates and events you’ve marked down haven’t even happened—”
“Not yet, they haven’t.” She regretted it as soon as she said it.
His eyes grew incredulous. He leaned forward, but still gripped the door handle as if it were a safety line. He swallowed hard, and Ravynn could see his Adam’s apple bobbing roughly before he began again. “What? You think you’re Nostradamus? Some sort of prophet? What?”
His face scrunched up in disgust as if he had tasted something appallingly bitter. The one look hit her like a slap across her face, and she turned away to stare out the window instead.
“You should have never read any of it in the first place,” she said while staring out the window at the redwood tree beyond.
Full night had snuck upon them while her attention was elsewhere. Lazy long summer days often took so long to pass by, the sun making its leisurely stroll across the sky to finally set completely. The darkness outside now crept in through the windowpane and into her. The tree stood oddly still, as if it didn’t want to upset the delicate balance between the contentious couple inside.
Ravynn felt the need to open the window, to reach out and touch the tree to see if it were alive or made of stone. She knew without moving, without testing the air outside that it was heavy and dead. Like everything held its breath, waiting. Perfect earthquake weather, she thought as she glanced out on the dimming horizon. People always said that about nights like that one. In reality, Ravynn knew there was no such thing as earthquake weather.
“But I did read it!” he exclaimed.
Instead of engaging, which was futile, she walked straight up to him and reached out to remove his hand from the doorknob. “I need to check on Amelia,” she said as calmly and unwavering as the tree outside.
“She’s in bed. Just went down. Leave her be,” he said, his hand recoiling, falling away from the knob at the slightest brush of her hand.
Matt stepped out of Ravynn’s way too brusquely, giving away his odium. With one fluid movement, Ravynn moved through the door, forcing herself not to look at him, not to see the fear that was plain on his face. In less than a breath she was across the hall, pushing her way into Amelia’s room, where the six-year-old slept soundly.
“I saw today’s event. But today is almost over— and nothing. You need to talk to someone,” he called out softly. “No earthquake. Not even the slightest tremor. Nothing.”
Ravynn didn’t have time for her anger. “The day is not done yet,” she said simply. Not waiting for a response, she closed the child’s door behind her and climbed into bed with her daughter. Wrapped her arms around the child and cradled her protectively, careful not to wake her.
It started slowly, barely detectable at first. Ravynn kissed her daughter’s forehead and tucked a pillow against her other side. Ready, she thought.
Tiny figurines on Amelia’s dresser began to jitter and skitter across the surface. They shimmied like they were at a dance, excited movement gripping them all. A few fell to the floor, already tired from the din, as the earth let out a low groan as it shifted beneath.
Matt raced through the door, eyes peeled open in terror and awe. Ravynn met his gaze and reached out a hand, beckoning to him, all the while remaining unfalteringly neutral. Amelia’s lamp jumped over the dresser and shattered into pieces on the hardwood floor. It reminded Ravynn of the shattering relationship between her and Matt. What once was whole.
Amelia startled awake, but her mother cooed at her and wrapped a hand behind her head and pulled her closer. Matt curled up next to them, pushing the pillow back against the headboard. All the while, he stared at Ravynn. Calm, composed, knowing Ravynn. She reached out her free arm to him, over Amelia, but he didn’t take it. He held still, searching her face. The look on his face broke her heart, but there was nothing she could do about it. So, she held tightly to her daughter as the earth slowed back to stillness.
Tomorrow would be a new day, but the day after… well, that would be The Day. She knew it. She wasn’t quite sure how much of the journal Matt had seen, but if he’d read it through, he too knew what that day would bring.
RAVYNN leaned on the precipice of night, waiting for The Day to come. She had known about this day since after the car crash when she was thirteen years old. After that tumultuous night, she could see things more clearly. Things she knew normal people couldn’t see. No, she wasn’t sick like her father, Matt was wrong. She was more like her mother and grandmother than anything else. Amelia had shades of it too, and even her twin brother Ray, but he was too stubborn and blind to see that he could be special as well.