Page 337 of As the Rain Falls
I open my eyes again, but she isn’t looking at me. She’s staring at the tree, how the branches seem to be bending towards our bodies. A quiet breeze brushes her hair back, like a gentle hand tucking the strands.
I reach for her wrists, gently pulling her hands away. Her head snaps back to me. “You’re back.”
“I am.”
She smiles. “I missed you.”
“Me too.” I clear my throat. “You were singing Songbird.”
“I was.”
Cassandra smiles slowly, and before I can add anything else, she brings me into her arms and starts singing again.
A star fruit falls and lands on the ground.
Neither of us bothers to catch it.
THE THEORY OF ETERNAL RETURN
Cassandra
MARCH, 2017
It’s afternoon.
I blink awake, coming back to real life after taking a nap on Beckett’s couch. My heart is beating so loudly in my chest with palpitations. I get them so often now, but I’m still not used to any of it. Tired still, I yawn, pressing a hand over my chest, urging the muscle to calm down.
The television sounds a little too loud in my eardrums, and it’s making me nervous, adding to the pressure I feel underneath my bones.
“No, Tony. You need to press the…” Beckett scoffs, shaking his head side to side.
His damp hair flies each way as he moves, and I rise to a seated position to flip the strands back as I yawn again.
“You can choose whatever hairstyle you want for your character, Antony. What’s important is the—”
Beckett shifts before pulling me into his lap. My arms circle his neck, pulling him into a hug. He makes a quiet sound in response, which is not a hum of pleasure but comes quite close to it, and presses a kiss to my temple.
Mateo’s voice echoes loudly through his headphones, and I understand two words out of three being spoken.
“Se tu escolher o terceiro clã, dá pra maximizar a força da equipe.” He coughs, seemingly fighting a dry throat. “A gente não tem alguém que é especializado em cura ainda.”
Antony groans, “Rapaz, vocês precisam me ensinar essa parada direito.”
“Relaxa, só escolhe o teu personagem que a gente te mostra o resto.”
Beckett pulls the headphone down, letting it rest around his neck. I stare at him, fighting back a smile.
His hands find the messy strands of my hair, undoing the already loose ponytail to set them free. “Welcome back to the world of the living.”
“Hi.”
I sigh deeply, closing my eyes shut as his digits find a sore spot on my scalp and press against it gently. The buzzing in my ears stops. That anxious feeling of dread and wrongness that I’ve been running from since eighth grade, when life became toohard, fades. The palpitation in my chest that never truly leaves, never really leaves me alone these days, finally slows down.
Itallgoes away.
Everything becomes quiet inside of me, like when it’s too early in the morning, and I need to open the windows of my bedroom to feel the cold breeze.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asks carefully, his voice raw from overuse.
