Page 76 of Life Out of Order

“I’m afraid so. Sorry.”

I think about all the secrets. Sometimes I can’t keep track of what I can or can’t tell. I worry a lot about telling Daddy something I shouldn’t. Not so much with Mama, she’s used to that. I have a lot of secrets from Daddy already. I don’t want another one. “What kind of secret? Good or bad?”

“Both. Beck is a good secret because you and Mama love her. She’s a bad secret because Daddy might feel unhappy if he knew about Beck. He might feel . . . left out.”

“That’s silly. Mama has lots of friends.”

“Beck is different. Special. You’ll see.”

“’Kay.” I yawn. It rained earlier and I can hear cars splashing through the huge puddles in the street.

“You should go to sleep,” Other Alba says.

“You sleep, I’ll read. What are you reading?” I turn the lamp back on. The brightness hurts my eyes.

“I’m wide-awake, unfortunately. It was three in the afternoon in my present.” She shows me the cover of her book. It’s the one Grandpa gave me for Christmas, Schoenberg’s Theory of Harmony.

“Ugh?” I ask.

“No, it’s brilliant, really. Not a great present for an eight-year-old kid, though. You’ll love it when you’re fifteen.”

“Okay. I’m afraid Grandpa will ask me if I read it.”

“I think Mama straightened him out on that.” Other Alba turns the lamp off again. “Here, move over.” She gets into bed next to me and holds my hand. Her hand is cold and kind of bony; it doesn’t feel like Mama’s rough warm hands, and it really doesn’t feel like my hand. It feels strong, like Daddy’s hands.

“Why do you keep turning off the light?” I ask. I don’t like the dark.

“It’s easier to talk in the dark, don’t you think?”

“Why?”

“I dunno. It’s like you’re talking inside my head, and I’m in your head.”

“You already know what I’m thinking, anyway.” This always seems kind of unfair. She was me, but I’m not her, yet.

“I know what you were dreaming about: music all over the floor, water in the Yellow House. I still have that dream sometimes.” I turn over and Other Alba puts her arm around me and she pulls up the covers so we are warm.

“Was it real? I remember it, like it was real.” In my dream there was another Alba there.

“Yes,” she says. “I’m pretty sure it’s real. It’s a long time from now.”

“I don’t want to go back there. It didn’t feel safe.”

She says, “It wasn’t safe. You were right to stay inside the house.”

“What was out there?” I ask.

“Just the wind,” she says. “Nothing but the dark and the wind.”

I shiver, and she pets my hair the way Mama does.

“Close your eyes,” she whispers; her voice is inside my head. “Listen to me. Things are changing: you’ll meet Beck soon, and you’ll see things in the future that you won’t understand. Try not to be afraid. Nothing will hurt you. You’ll walk through the valley of the shadow of death, and fear no evil. You’ll skim through time, you will have to keep secrets; sometimes you’ll make mistakes. You are here to bear witness. People will love you, and you’ll love them; sometimes that gets confusing. You’ll do your best. You’ll be fine, I promise. Do you understand?”

I don’t, but I say yes. I don’t remember sleeping; I don’t dream anything; when I wake up, Other Alba is gone.

To Bring the Moonlight into a Chamber

Friday, April 9, 2010 (Clare is 38, Beck is 34)