Nightmare

It was the jolt of Edmon’s heart that woke him. As it stuttered back into a normal rhythm, his lungs slowly eased their gasping breaths. Edmon dared to close his eyes, but all it did was transport him back to the dream he had been trying to escape. It was bad enough that he had to live with Eamon’s ghost when he was awake.

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Edmon stumbled to his desk and switched on the clunky old computer that had long outlived its best before date. It whirled slowly into life while Edmon kept his eyes averted from the clock. He wanted to deny the possibility that he had again been awoken at two-twenty-seven – the exact time Eamon had been pronounced dead.

EyeLiteTheNite: Another nightmare?

Edmon smiled, his body relaxing. He liked to imagine EyeLiteTheNite was a girl, though he’d never had the courage to ask. What he did know was that EyeLiteTheNite was in his year at school and knew more about him than his closest friends. It was terrifying, yet thrilling, and the only compensation for his nightly terrors.

Falcon898: Yep. What about you?

EyeLiteTheNite: Same old. You dream about your brother again?

Falcon898: Not about him. I was him. Happening more. Know you dream crazy shit when you sleep, but swear it wasn’t me. I was him.

EyeLiteTheNite: Creepy.

Edmon let his head fall into his hand. It was more than creepy, but the words to describe it didn’t exist. It wasn’t quite scary, because it was so familiar. Being Eamon was almost the same as being himself. He just didn’t want to be his dead big brother. A brother he’d never even met.

EyeLiteTheNite: Your mum still pressuring you? Might be why you’re still having nightmares.

Falcon898: She never stops. She’ll never be happy until I am my brother.

EyeLiteTheNite: There’s your answer.

Falcon898: Not helpful.

EyeLiteTheNite: Never said I could help.

Edmon smiled again. EyeLiteTheNite always said that. He wished he had the courage to explain how much she always helped … or he always helped. Edmon’s heart sank at the idea. He’d never been attracted to guys in the slightest, but he wondered if that would change if EyeLiteTheNite was indeed a boy. Did attraction work like that?

EyeLiteTheNite: Olds. Gotta go. Talk later Falcon.

It felt like a knife twisted in Edmon’s gut every time EyeLiteTheNite called him by his chat name. Edmon Falkner. It seemed so obvious now. Edmon had never cared before. He’d made many friends over this forum. Most of them had guessed each other’s identities. Edmon wondered if EyeLiteTheNite knew who he was, because she was one of the few people whose identity remained a complete secret. Up to now, it had been a good thing. They had both confessed so much to each other. The ability to bare his soul without the fear of the world finding out had kept Edmon alive, but Edmon wanted more. He wanted that comfort in real life too.

“Time to get up. Come on. I want you to do an hour of practice before school.”

Edmon groaned at the sound of his mother’s voice. He rolled over and closed his eyes. His chat with EyeLiteTheNite felt like a dream. He just wished it was the one he fell back into when he closed his eyes.

“Now, Eamon!”

It didn’t matter that his mother was halfway across the house, she somehow knew when Edmon was still in bed. Cursing under his breath, Edmon stomped over to his guitar and slammed himself back onto his bed. The only reason he complied with his mother’s demands was that EyeLiteTheNite had once said how much she liked guys who played guitars. Edmon’s suggestion that he could easily be a girl was countered by EyeLiteTheNite’s assertion that only a guy would consider her comment to be about them. Choosing to believe EyeLiteTheNite’s remarks confirmed her feminine status, Edmon strummed him guitar, writing a song for her.

The look on his mother’s face when she came to usher him into the shower was infuriating. It was why he always fought against her desires to make him Eamon reborn, even when his heart yearned to do the very things Eamon had.

“I’ll be home late. Footy training,” said Edmon, walking out the door.

“Eamon, you don’t like football. I don’t know why you have to do this to me. Why you have to be so defiant?”

“Because I’m not Eamon, Mum!” cried Edmon. “I get it’s only one letter. The only difference you ever let me have. But I’m not him and nothing you do can make me him.”

Edmon ran down the street. He made it to the local park before he stopped. Leaning against the tree, he focused on the stitch tearing at his side rather than the tears burning in his eyes. For so many years, Edmon had wanted to be everything his mother desired. His whole life had been filled with the stories of Eamon. Their golden child. First born. Nothing compared to Eamon – not even his sister Edyn.

Edmon had yearned to please his mother, so did everything Eamon had. The love his mother lavished on him in those moments was so great Edmon sometimes still wished he could just become Eamon, but he wasn’t and never would be. Anything he wanted to do that Eamon hadn’t liked had been out of bounds. When Edmon had rebelled, his mother’s disappointment extended to harsh disapproval, even to the point of physical reprimands.

By the age of seven Edmon had had enough. The physical resemblance between him and Eamon was so great they could have been twins. So Edmon grew his hair and kept it untidy. He devoted himself to maths and science, and refused to play music or read anything that wasn’t comic books. Edmon’s father refused to condone his unruly and defiant behaviour, though he never reprimanded him either. His dad wanted him to be his own person, and fought for his right to break free from Eamon’s ghost.

Eventually the tension between Edmon’s parents got too great. When Edmon was nine, his father moved out with his sister. Edyn was twenty by then, but she’d had enough of her mother’s indifference. Edmon was always surprised that Edyn never held any animosity towards him, but she was never anything but sympathetic.

“Hey, bro, you must want a place to stay,” laughed Edyn as soon as she answered the phone.

“That’s not the only reason I call,” replied Edmon.

“Then you must be calling to offer to look after Reagan,” said Edyn.

“Absolutely.”

“You’re the best psychic brother any sister could have. I have exams coming up. If you could spend some time with Reagan, I would be eternally grateful.”

“I thought you already were,” smiled Edmon.

“I’ll pick you up after school.”

Edmon’s chest shuddered as he hung up. He took a steadying breath, the tears in his eyes instantly drying. He truly loved his sister. It wasn’t fair what life had done to her. She’d been ten when Eamon died. Eleven when Edmon had been born. Forever overshadowed by her brothers, she had sought comfort in the arms of guys who claimed she was the most important person in their world. But they never stuck around. When Edyn was twenty-three, she gave birth to Reagan, a beautiful little girl who would never know her father.

Reagan was Edmon’s get out of jail free card. Waiting until school finished, Edmon sent his mother a message, letting him know he wouldn’t be home, then jumped in Edyn’s car.

“Uncle Eddie!” cried Reagan from the back seat.

“Hey, my little Royal Reagan. How’s my princess today?” asked Edmon cheerfully.

“I’m good.”

Edmon felt immediately at ease as Reagan chatted endlessly at them. He didn’t even get the chance to find out how Edyn was going.

“See why I need you,” smiled Edyn, as they pulled up in their father’s driveway and Edmon took Reagan out of the car.

“Any time, Eady.”

“Granddad!” cried Reagan, pointing towards the house.

“Uh oh,” smiled Edyn. “That’s all yours.” Edyn waved out the window at their father, telling him she was off to the library.

“I don’t need this,” sighed Edmon’s father, taking Reagan from Edmon’s arms. “You’re old enough to tell your mother to her face that you’re staying here. It doesn’t always have to be done by stealth.”

“She’s calling me Eamon again,” said Edmon, stomping into the house.

Edmon’s father sighed again, hugging Reagan a little tighter as he did. Edmon hated the pain he caused his parents, simply by his existence. It left him with a sick feeling in his chest for the rest of the night. When Reagan was asleep, Edmon sat down with Edyn and their father and begged to move in with them.

“Eddie,” sighed Edmon’s father, the way he had every other time he had made this request.

“Dad, please,” cried Edmon. “Nothing’s going to change. She’s never going to change. I’m sick of it. I’m not going back. If you don’t let me stay here, I’m still not going back. I’d rather live on the street.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I think he is, Dad,” said Edyn. “You don’t get it. You don’t know how hard it is for us.”

Tears filled their father’s eyes. Edmon thought his dad understood Reagan’s pain more than his.

“I don’t think you appreciate just how difficult it’s been for us. Eamon’s death, it hit us hard. You just never expect that when you say goodbye to your kid it’ll be the last time you see him alive.”

“You don’t think I get that?” cried Edmon. “You think I get mad because you guys miss Eamon? I just don’t want to be Eamon. I can’t be!”

“I know. We know that.”

“Mum doesn’t know that.”

“There’s a reason for that, Eddie.”

“I don’t care, Dad. I don’t care anymore. I just want to live here. I can’t go back. Please.”

“Eddie, it’ll kill her. Losing you, I don’t think she’d survive. You were the only reason your mum survived Eamon’s death. I can’t take you away from her.”

“I’m not going back.”

“You might if you knew the truth,” sighed Edmon’s dad.

“What are you doing?” hissed Edyn.

“I think it’s time.”

“No!”

“What?” asked Edmon, his heart racing.

“Nothing,” answered Edyn. “The truth is Mum’s cracked. We should’ve gotten her help years ago. It wasn’t fair to leave you in that. If Dad doesn’t let you stay, then me, you and Reagan will get our own place.”

“There’s no need for that,” sighed their father. “You can stay. I’ll sort it out.”

Edmon smiled at Edyn, but as he retreated to his room, he could not help but feel uneasy. There was something they weren’t telling him. A secret. A truth. Edmon was just not sure if he wanted to know.