Yesterwary

Demi had promised she would rest, but her thoughts had kept her far away from sleep. She’d spent the entire night worrying about Michael, wondering what would happen to her in the fog, and memorizing every freckle and pore of Bastian’s face. She traced the slightly-raised scar of ‘143’ on the back of his neck—it was her first clear memory of the day she arrived in Yesterwary. Before the morning light had begun to stab its way through the clouds, Demi had taken to one of the empty books on Bastian’s dresser. She’d stared at the blank pages for hours, but found that the only words in her mind related not to the title, but to all of her time with the man who was sleeping peacefully at her side.

Her gaze was focused on the window when the gray light finally illuminated the ground. She could just see the fog glowing in the distance, when Bastian rolled over and placed a protective arm around her.

“Come with me,” she whispered.

Bastian, still hazy from sleep, propped himself up on one elbow and rested his chin on Demi’s shoulder. “Don’t go.”

“I have to. I can’t let him run around out there all by himself,” she said, dropping her face to her palms. She’d hoped the man she wished she could love wouldn’t let her make this journey alone. But, as it would forever be in Yesterwary, her hope was lost.

“Demi, you don’t even know that he’s—”

“He is alive,” she said. She was certain. She had to be.

“Demi—”

“I’m doing this, Bastian. And the way I see it, this is going to work out in one of three ways,” she snapped, spinning to meet his gaze. “One: You’re right. The fog is a death sentence, and that’s it. It’s over. Two: I stay here, and we live miserably ever after. Three: I get out. I find a way back to the old world, and I find you, and I love you, and I steal you from this place.”

Bastian stared at her as he thought over her words, then finally whispered, “Don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“If you do get out. Don’t try to find me.”

“You would rather live here alone than in a place where we could love each other?” she asked, hurt. “Why are you so afraid of the old world?”

“Because…” he said, glancing down at his own hands. “What if you don’t love me? What if we get out and find each other, and you realize you’ve made a mistake?”

“Why wouldn’t I love you?”

“Why would you?! Jesus-fucking-Christ, Demi. I’m a mess!”

“So am I. And so is everyone else. Nobody really has their shit together… Some people are just better at pretending they do. But they don’t,” she assured, standing to reach for the bag at the foot of the bed. “Please don’t let this fear keep you from something that is so much more wonderful than this place. Please don’t let it keep you from me.”

The air was heavy with Demi’s request, while Bastian contemplated in their silence.

“I won’t go with you,” he said quietly. “But I will beg you to stay until I can no longer see you through the fog.”

From the doorway Demi shook her head in disappointment.

“You’re leaving now?” he asked, voice wavering.

“I need to stop by the restaurant. I have to leave Xander the keys. Meet me in the field behind the library in an hour?”

Bastian agreed, but stopped her in the doorway as she turned for the stairs. With a hand on her cheek, he gazed into her eyes, and planted the softest kiss against her lips. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that suggested they would see each other in as little as an hour. Instead, it was the kind of kiss that suggested they wouldn’t.

“You are insane,” Kraus whispered. “This is worst idea you ever have. And I not forget about when you say ‘mix garlic with apple, chef! It taste fine!’”

“I thought it tasted fine,” Demi mumbled.

“You are not enough healthy to be doing this,” he said, leaning in closer to the warped glass that separated them. “Even without going through what you just go through, this not good.”

“I’m fine,” she said, glowering.

“People who are fine never say they are fine.” Kraus gazed at her with sad, protective eyes. “Only people who are not fine say they are fine. And what, you just leave Bastian here? Alone?”

“He could have chosen to come with me,” she said, diverting her gaze to the floor.

Kraus tilted his head to the side, stare nearly piercing through Demi’s skull. “You know this thing you ask him is not fair, don’t you? Is not fair to Bastian. You not ask someone you love to make choice like this.”

Demi’s eyes shot upward to meet Kraus’. Her brows lowered and her head slowly shook from side to side as contemplation turned to realization. “I don’t love him,” she said, even though the words stabbed at her silent chest. “I can’t love him. Not here.”

“You do many things no one else can do, here,” he said. “Why you think this is any different?”

She didn’t want to think about an answer. She didn’t want to give Kraus, or herself, a chance to talk her out of leaving. And she certainly didn’t want to believe that she was special.

“Look, I didn’t come here for your opinion or advice,” she said. “I just came to say goodbye.”

“No,” Kraus said firmly, sitting back in his chair with crossed arms.

“No?” Demi huffed.

“No. I not accept your goodbye. You just don’t leave, and then there is no goodbye.”

Kraus’ jaw clenched as he tried to keep his chin from wavering. He focused, unblinking, on Demi’s face, because blinking in such a situation could have easily led to tears. Demi understood what he was trying to accomplish, and nodded as she rose to her feet.

“I’ll see you next week,” she said, voice cracking. “I’ll bring spaghetti.”

Kraus also stood, only to place a hand on the glass as she turned to walk away. “Demetria?”

Demi paused, but didn’t turn.

“It has been honor working with you,” he said, repeating his words from what they both had once thought would be her last day in the restaurant. “You bring little bit of light into this dark place.”

Demi couldn’t see him hold his hand over his chest, and she couldn’t see the look of despair in his eyes as she walked away, and she couldn’t see the single tear roll down his cheek.

In mild shock, the eyes of the restaurant employees shifted to Demi as she walked through the door. The look she had been trying to avoid over the last few days bombarded her, and tackled her in the stomach like a bowling ball.

“What are you doing here?” Kelly asked, leaving her table of hungry customers to greet Demi at the door.

“I wanted to stop in, see how things were going,” she said, doing her best to discreetly hide her bag behind her back. She’d decided not to tell her employees that she would be leaving. There was no reason to cause concern, and, in time, she was certain they’d forget about her, entirely. But, mostly, she didn’t want anyone else trying to convince her that she was making a mistake.

“We’ve got it covered, dear,” Cindy said, moving to Kelly’s side. “You ought to be at home, resting.”

“I know,” Demi said, shuffling around their mini-blockade to meet Xander in the kitchen. “I just missed you guys.”

“Hey,” Xander said, eyes wide with surprise. At the sight of Demi’s duffle bag, he carefully lowered a folding, metal screen in the window, separating them from the prying eyes of the restaurant. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she cooed, digging a set of keys from her pocket. “I wanted to bring these in, in case you wanted to give them to one of the girls while I’m recovering.”

“Uh huh…” he said, looking over the keys in his hand, then glancing up with suspicion. The look on Demi’s face might have been able to convince someone who didn’t know her so well, but he wasn’t buying into it. Pupils narrowing, he asked, “What’s in the bag?”

“Some stuff people gave us… for the baby. I’m taking it to the orphanage.” Demi was quite pleased at herself for coming up with an explanation so quickly.

“Bastian couldn’t have done that?”

“He’s… working.”

“Bullshit,” he exclaimed. “Tell me what’s really going on.”

Demi thought for a moment, trying to decide if she could manage to turn the conversation around. But Xander’s glare suggested that she’d been caught, and there was no getting out of the hole in which she’d found herself. Dropping her bag to the floor with a sigh, Demi explained her plan, as well as what had led her to it.

“So… You’re really going?” Xander asked.

“Yeah. Why? Do you think I shouldn’t go? Bastian thinks I shouldn’t go. Maybe I shouldn’t go. Do you think I shouldn’t go?” she rambled, leaning back against the sink.

“Stop. Breathe,” he said, staring at her as if she might spontaneously combust. “You need to do whatever you think you need to do.”

Demi’s face tightened in a smile. She realized how thankful she was for such a wonderful friend. Xander wasn’t going to try to stop her. He wasn’t going to try to convince her that she needed to stay and rest—that she was weak. And he wasn’t going to tell her that it was a lost cause because the fog had led Michael off to his death, and would surely do the same for her.

“I’m going,” she said, with a steady and final nod.

Xander pulled her in for a hug. It wasn’t soft and gentle, as if he were worried he might break her. It was strong and brave, and Demi knew instantly that it was less for herself than it was for him.

“You know,” he said, pulling away and trying to hide the tears that were creeping down his cheeks, “I could go with you.”

“What?”

“I have no reason to stay here,” he said. “And if you don’t want to go alone—”

“Someone needs to keep an eye on Bastian,” she said. In truth, she would have loved for Xander to accompany her. She would have loved to not have to go alone. But love wasn’t allowed, in Yesterwary. And if she happened to be wrong about the fog, if there truly was nothing out there, if it was only death, she didn’t want to be responsible for leading Xander into it.

“I’m sure Mr. Goggles has it covered,” he joked.

“Xander…”

“I know,” he sighed. “I’ll take care of him. You have to make me a promise, though.”

“What’s that?” she asked, returning the strap of her bag to her shoulder.

“When you make it back,” he said. His faith in her sent a warmth through Demi’s chest. “Find me. Save me.”

Demi nodded and joined her best friend in a final, teary embrace.