SEAN

Hope.

That’s what I have now.

A glimmer of it only, but it’s there.

They said to train while I wait for their call. I’m in pretty good shape to start with. Breaking a sweat, I feel I’ve accomplished something. Clears my head of the demons—those fucked up voices that tell me on a daily basis that nothing I do matters. You’re worthless. Can’t keep your mouth shut. Can’t fit into the mold they made for you. So what if it doesn’t fit? Get smaller. Conform. Stop fighting. Give in. Why not just look the other way like everyone else?

I hate those voices.

Hate isn’t a strong enough word.

It makes sense to hide in my video games.

Hell, it’d make sense to lose myself in booze, drugs, food, sex.

Life is hard when you’re different, like me.

But I keeping thinking there’s gotta be a better way.

Then they gave me hope, those two Ciphers who came to my mom’s home. She’d sent them here for me. Didn’t even give me a heads up. Just sent them knocking with patches on their leather jackets and meticulous methods of walking, talking, entering our home, that told me to watch myself—they could be dangerous if they wanted to be. Even the girl. Especially the girl, since she was so beautiful you’d lose sight of her fists.

They explained while I listened like my life depended on it, that there might be a place for me to scratch this itch. That how I’ve been fucking up, might be useful to them. This mouth of mine, my need to defend even when it costs me my job, wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in their world. I might be able to save the innocent.

Hope.

That’s what they left behind when they walked out.

Hope.

I’ve been in the backyard training since they left a couple days ago, practicing the videos he suggested I research. It’s tough without a partner. No mirrors in our backyard to show me if I’m even doing it right. Just some weights, a leather punching bag, and birds chirping in the maple trees, egging me on. My adrenaline goes in spikes and valleys with each passing hour that my phone doesn’t ring. Is this part of the test? Make me wait? Or is the call never gonna come...

With every push-up I shove doubt down.

Mom calls through the open glass doors, knife suspended from slicing tomatoes, “Honey, your phone’s ringing on the charger!”

Rushing inside I snatch it from the counter beside her, and see a Louisiana area code glowing from the screen. My heart punches my ribs as I answer, “Hello?”

The voice is deep, “Sean?” like I’m a sleeper-spy receiving that crucial call that activates me, changes my life forever.

“Yeah, this is Sean. Who’s this?”

“Jett Cocker.”

I glance to my mother and nod that it’s him. She’s holding her breath, sets the knife on the cutting board with her hand pressed flat over the handle.

“How do I know it’s you? I was told there would be a password.”

Silence. He clears his throat. “Code word is…Tickles.”

My eyes close with relief, and a smile tugs at my mouth. Guy hated saying that. Sofia was probably fucking with him when she invented it. Makes me like her even more than I did instinctively. She sang to my mom’s cat. What’s not to like?

I keep my voice sober, clear of the relief I feel. “That’s the password. I’m glad you called. What do you need me to do?”

“Pack some things. Not much. I want to meet you in person, see who the fuck you are. My daughter was the first toll. I’m the gate you need pass, understand?”

“Yes.”

I write down the location of the Ciphers home, tear it off the notepad and lock eyes with Mom as he tells me I’m to show within two days allowing for travel time. From here on out, everything connected with the Ciphers is confidential. If I tell anyone anything about them, our meeting—before, during, or after—they’ll know sooner or later and I’ll pay.

He asks again, “Understand?”

I turn away from my mother, sign away my soul with two words. “Yes, sir.”

As I hang up, she asks, “What now?”

With a hug I give her a sincere, “Thank you.”

She laughs at how tightly I’m holding her since I’m not one to show affection. I’m an introvert. Keep to myself. But she just made me the happiest man. I’m her only child, and I’ve never been happy. Always felt guilty about that, but I don’t know where in this fucked-up world I fit in, and it’s been slowly killing me.

“Are they taking you?”

Letting her go, I run a hand through my hair. “I can’t talk about it anymore, Mom. It’s confidential. I’ve gotta book a flight.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Today.”

“Don’t you want breakfast?”

Heading to my room I mutter, “Nope.”

“Sean!”

At the desperation in her voice, I turn around. Santosh Khalsa, gifted psychic, and the one person who gives a shit about me in this life, rushes over. Her colorful dress with angel wing sleeves blows behind her as her thin eyebrows pierce together at the thought of me vanishing without a trace.

I didn’t used to live at home. Moved out shortly after high school and traveled from apartment to job to hell and back, like a nomad. Lost my self-confidence with each failure. Recently came back after a fight with a slum-lord who didn’t deserve my money for that roach infested pit he wouldn’t fix in order for anyone to live like a normal human being.

I know Mom wishes I’m something better than I am.

Sees my potential and hates that I always fuck it up.

Probably didn’t mind my company though. We get along great. Love each other even though we’re so different. She doesn’t dote on me and I treat her and her home with respect. Take out the trash. Vacuum the floors. Catch the spiders, carry them outside since she doesn’t like killing things even though she believes spiders are a form of darkness.

“Don’t look like that, Mom, I’ll see you again. Just don’t know when. But I need this. You know I do.”

She grabs my shoulders and purposefully gazes into my eyes. “Shhh, let me focus.”

It’s not the first time she’s used her premonition abilities on me. She’s always been disappointed by the visions before, so I stand here, waiting.

For hope.

After a few tense moments, her arms float to her sides. “This will be up to you, Sean. It hasn’t been written yet.”

Frowning I glance to the ground, back to her. “It’s not fate?”

“It’s up to you to claim yours. Nobody is going to give it to you.”