Silence, part III of VI

Tabatha jerked awake while it was still dark. The alarm clock shone fiercely; it was precisely 2:00 a.m. She sat up, no longer at all sleepy. A familiar high-pitched humming beckoned her out of her room and led her to the also-familiar blue orb. A slight smile combined with her puzzlement to create a paradoxical flicker of emotion across her face. The orb hovered in front of her father's bedroom door, and she eagerly reached toward it, hungry for more of the exquisitely clear memories of her dead kin. It retracted for an instant, like a scared cat retracts from a strange touch, then relaxed and connected with Tabatha's outstretched palm. An image of Tabatha's mother Sharon appeared in her mind. Sharon's face was wet with tears, the creamy skin Tabatha inherited flushed. She held a baby, Tabatha's twin Kylie. The pair rocked together, three-year-old Kylie scared silent.

Sharon's disposition changed suddenly: her sad gaze was replaced with a hardened stare that she surveyed her oldest baby with. Kylie blinked in fright at her mother. Sharon stood up with the baby, and Tabatha realized that not only was this in the suburban townhouse the family had inhabited in its early years, but the "memory" was also foreign in a more important way: she had never seen this taking place. She wondered vaguely if it had happened at all; after all, Kylie and Tabatha were never apart as children.

As though the presence sensed her doubt, it changed immediately, feeding Tabatha an image of Karl and herself. Here, too, Tabatha was three, though smaller than her twin was, and Karl had a full, curly head of hair and kind, worried eyes. The two exited a yellow cab together, Karl carrying a brown zippered suitcase, Tabatha wearing a pink Barbie backpack. Tabatha watched herself ascend some grey steps onto a concrete porch with Karl, and saw herself trying to whistle as he rang the doorbell of a small white clapboard house. The oaken storm door opened shortly after, and a full-figured, curvaceous blonde with pouty pink lips let them inside, stroking Karl's bare face with a soft touch and tender look, then ruffling Tabatha's hair with her pudgy, long-nailed fingers. Tabatha's stomach dropped as if from a roller coaster ride at the woman's appearance, and the strong vision vanished.

Tabatha blinked, eyes accustoming to the dark. The orb had disappeared. She felt drained, tired from the connection with the mysterious apparition, so she returned to her bed, sleeping for a few more blissful hours.