Flashes of You

By J.M. Rhineheart

Bridget was in the pool when she saw the flash show up again. Just a quick ripple. Others might’ve mistaken it as the sun flashing on top of the water, except it wasn’t on the water, it was under it. The light flashed again, and in the middle of the light, she saw green trees.

She didn’t think, she just dove. Her ears popped and her eyes burned as she struggled to dive and keep the flash in sight. Her fingers stretched out, desperate to touch the greenery that waited on the other side.

Then her hand wasn’t in the water anymore but touching dry leaves, and she fought to get the rest of herself through. The leaves were connected to branches that were connected to a tree, solid and firm enough to hold her weight. Her arm banged against a nearby branch and she grabbed hold to pull herself through. Her eyes glanced past the leaves and tree to where she could see people standing, gathered in the forest. One of them laughed and she knew that laugh, knew it so well.

The flash closed in on her just as she pushed her head through. Her breath of fresh air turned into a gulp of chlorine. Frantically she tugged at the branch, fingers grasping at the leaves, but the flash disappeared, leaving her fingers floating in water.

Something tugged around her middle, an arm, and a moment later she broke the surface. She coughed and retched up water as the lifeguard hauled her to the side of the pool. Voices shouted in fear and excitement, making her ears ring.

Even as she was assured she’d be all right, even as they checked her over, even as she spit out chlorine, her eyes kept going to the bottom of the pool. The flash was gone. She’d missed her chance again.

Her dad’s laughter stayed in her ears and made her eyes burn.

“It’s in the blink of an eye,” Grandpa told her. “That’s when you’ve got a chance. A flash of light, there and gone in an instant. If you want to travel to another world, always be on the lookout for that split-second moment.”

Bridget didn’t take it seriously and never had. Especially whenever her mom called from the other room, “Dad, honestly, stop with that other world fairy nonsense,” and then added that dinner was ready.

It didn’t deter him in the slightest. “Some people only get one chance,” he said. “But some people get more. I’m waiting for mine.”

“What do you want it for?” Bridget couldn’t help but ask curiously. Maybe Mom and Dad were right, that Grandpa shouldn’t live on his own anymore. He hadn’t really been the same since Grandma had died.

He smiled at her. “Not what. Who.” He rose then and headed to the dining room, leaving her alone on the sofa. Her eyes drifted to the picture of her grandparents, the photo prominent on the mantle.

“Gidget! C’mon, let’s eat!”

She rolled her eyes at her dad but went to join them.

Grandpa died two months later, falling off the roof. The neighbors swore it looked like he’d been trying to walk out into thin air. The smile stayed frozen on his face up through the funeral, when they finally closed the casket.

She was cleaning the windows at her apartment when the flash came next. “Cate, I need more cleaner,” she called, then froze. There, in the window, was the greenery, impossible in the middle of the city. It was her chance again, just waiting for her.

She immediately slammed her hand into the leaves, then hissed when her knuckles met glass. Outside, the greenery was outside. She flung the window open and reached again. There it was, the leaves bright against her fingertips, the branch solid and rough against her palm. She grabbed hold and started pulling herself through.

This time, she got her whole head inside, red hair hanging between one world and the next, and looked around. The tree branch she was grasping wasn’t too far off the ground; she could easily shimmy out and then hop down. Beneath her, voices echoed, and then there was the warm voice that she knew so well. She shifted further out onto the branch, trying to see him better. A flash of red, that stupid sweater he’d loved so much, and a hint of an upturned mouth.

“Bridget!”

Suddenly something grabbed her by the hips and pulled her back. She fought to cling to the branch, to get herself inside, but then she was unceremoniously dragged out and back into her apartment. She hit the floor hard, making her wince.

“What the hell are you doing?” her sister demanded, eyes wide and frightened. “You don’t need that part of the window cleaned that badly! We’re five stories up!”

“No, it wasn’t that, it was—” Her eyes went to the flash, but it had disappeared again. Just the window, wide open, nearby papers and fabrics rustling in the breeze.

Cate slowly shook her head. “Don’t do that again,” she said. Her voice shook in a way it hadn’t since Dad’s funeral. “Just, just don’t.”

Bridget nodded after a moment. “I’ll get you something for your hands,” Cate said, always trying to fix things, always the mothering big sister. “You wouldn’t have scratched them if you hadn’t been trying to clean the far edges of your windows.”

She briskly turned and all but stormed off, leaving Bridget to look at her red palms. She’d been so close, and she’d missed her opportunity again.

It only made her all the more determined not to miss the next one.

The room felt cold, empty without Dad. Bridget found herself looking around every corner, waiting to see him in his favorite red sweater, expecting to hear his laugh, knowing he had to still be there. He wasn’t in an urn on her parents’ mantle. He wasn’t gone for good.

Her mom came in and settled beside her on the sofa. “Are you going to come with me to the trial?” she asked quietly. “You don’t have to, you know. Cate said she’d go.”

“I want to go,” she lied. “I want him to see us and know who he hurt when he had to answer the text while driving.” She hadn’t been able to text anyone since he’d died. It felt wrong.

Mom inhaled slowly. “It won’t bring your father back. But it might…it might help us move on.”

Bridget didn’t say anything. Her eyes stayed on the urn. “Give us closure,” Mom continued. “Put the whole thing to rest.”

“Grandpa never moved on from Grandma,” Bridget couldn’t help but point out. He’d lived well after she’d gone, but he’d never really let go of her. He’d missed her with every part of his being, and Bridget was fairly certain now that she’d do the same. It didn’t matter that she was grown and had a career and rent to pay and all of the things you were supposed to have as an adult. She still wanted her dad. And now the person she’d always relied on was gone.

Mom didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. They sat in silence for a bit, the soft murmur of voices from the other room just loud enough to prickle at Bridget’s skin. Mourners had come back to the house to pay their respects, and Bridget just wished they’d leave.

Her mom rose then, brushed fake lint from her black dress. “We’ll soldier on,” she said, Dad’s favorite phrase, and Bridget felt tears spring to her swollen eyes again. “That’s all.”

That night, the flash appeared to Bridget for the first time. In her parents’ guest room that had once been her own bedroom, the ceiling began to glow, a sliver of light parting to make an almost mirror-like oval. She stared, mouth parting in shock. The flash of light glowed, warm and bright, and inside the light were bright green leaves. Sunshine filtered through, vivid in the otherwise dark room, and wind made the leaves brush audibly against one another.

And somewhere on the same wind came the voice she’d just laid to rest that afternoon.

“Dad?” she whispered, eyes burning. A laugh then, the laugh she had longed to hear since the crash. “Dad?”

The leaves beckoned, and the flash of light slowly began to close. “No, wait!” she cried, jumping up onto the bed. She reached up, fingers brushing the leaves, enough for her to get a grip on some of them. They were attached to a branch, a solid branch, and she jumped on the mattress to catch hold of it. Her hand found purchase, maybe enough to pull her up—

The light closed completely, and she found herself plummeting back down to the bed. She lost her balance and hit the floor, hard enough to send pain reverberating through her leg. Gasping in pain, she reached for her ankle and felt sick.

Footsteps pounded in the hallway before the door flung open. “Bridget, what happened?” Cate demanded, their mom right behind her. “Are you okay?”

“Just sprained it, I think,” Bridget hissed through clenched teeth. “I, uh, lost my balance getting out of bed.” Her eyes went to the ceiling, but the flash of light was gone.

Her ankle wound up just sprained, not broken. But she didn’t care about the ankle. All she cared about was the chance to catch the flash of light again, to get to where her dad was.

The flash came again and again. In the middle of a busy street, at the bottom of a deep stairwell, and, most memorably, inside the tiger pen at the zoo. She tried to get to them each time, but she never wound up anywhere close by the time the flash disappeared. It left her all the more determined to get to the world beyond. The next time, she wouldn’t miss.

The next time, she’d get to her dad.

She was driving home from visiting her mom and sister when she saw the flash spark in the middle of the night. It beckoned to her from between two yellow arrow signs in the curve up ahead. In the darkness around her, the sun shone through, green boughs even brighter than usual. They swayed in the wind, moving off to the side, and—

And there he was. Her dad stood on the ground below the branches, smiling brightly, talking to someone and so full of life it hurt.

Her foot found the gas pedal. If she sped up enough, she could make it through before the flash disappeared. She could make it this time, she could do it. She would do it. Her hands wrapped around the steering wheel, clinging as she got closer and closer.

Then she was soaring, flying through the air, her eyes on the bright light of the world beyond. Her dad turned at last, and her breath caught as he locked gazes with her. His lips parted to say something and she was so close, so close—

The flash closed in an instant. She didn’t even have time to mourn before the car hit the ground and something big.

The flash came again and again. In the middle of a busy street, at the bottom of a deep stairwell, and, most memorably, inside the tiger pen at the zoo.

When she came to, it was to Cate’s stony face. “Hey,” Bridget whispered, voice like gravel.

Cate’s stare didn’t change. She just sat in the hospital chair like a statue, eyes locked on Bridget. It wasn’t often that her sister was so still, but even her red curls didn’t move. It was unnerving. “What happened,” Bridget managed to croak out.

Her sister handed over a small Styrofoam cup filled with delicious ice water. Only when Bridget had finished sipping did she speak. “You know what happened.”

“Lost control,” Bridget started. “I couldn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Cate suddenly cut in, voice like thunder. “You’re a better driver than that. There were no tire tracks, no signs of you trying to slow down or steer away. You drove straight forward and off the road. It was sheer dumb luck that you got caught on that tree or else you’d have gone down the hill. Spare me the lies and tell me the truth.”

Fine. If Cate wanted honesty, then Bridget would give it to her. “There was a flash of light. It had somewhere else in it, and don’t give me that face, Cate, I know what I’m saying and it’s true. I saw another world. I just wanted a closer look!”

“A closer look that involved driving your car off the road? Do you know how many times you’ve almost died in the last few months?”

She let out a sigh and cough when it rattled her chest. Her sore chest, the one with a casted arm laying across it. How long had she been there? What else had happened to her? “It happened in a moment,” Bridget told her. “It was a split-second thing.”

“You sound like Grandpa,” Cate said bitterly. “He always went on about that stupid once in a lifetime moment to switch worlds. And for all his talking about it, he never got there. He only got a casket.”

It made Bridget pause, words hanging on her tongue, and Cate kept going. “Look, I get that life sucks without Dad, all right? But there’s plenty to keep living for. Mom needs us. I need you, all right? So quit with this, this suicidal stuff. If something happened to you, Mom would be devastated. She lost her dad and then her husband all in a year and now her youngest kid? Is that what you want to do to her? First the pool, then the window, I don’t even know what the whole bus thing was—”

“I’m not trying to kill myself,” Bridget insisted hotly. She shifted on the bed and winced. “That’s not what this is.”

“Well it’s what it looks like to the rest of us!” Cate shouted, shooting to her feet. A passing nurse glared at her and Cate just glared back. Only when the nurse had kept going did she toss her hair over her shoulder and give a derisive snort. “Like I’m the first person who’s yelled in an emergency room.”

Bridget just sighed. She should’ve kept her mouth shut. “Cate, just listen to me. I swear—”

“No, I don’t want to hear it, all right? Just,” and Cate stopped, the anger falling from her face. Then she did something that Bridget had never expected from her: her lips turned down and actually wobbled. “Just stay, okay? Never mind Mom. I’d be lost without you, Gidget. You’re my little sister and I don’t know what to tell you to make you want to be here with us.”

It left Bridget dumbfounded, her dad’s nickname catching her attention more than anything else. She tried to speak, then stopped.

Cate finally jutted her chin out and rolled her shoulders back, attempting to gain back some semblance of control. “I’m going to go find a nurse, see when they’ll release you. Then, we’ll get you back to Mom’s. You can’t do much with a busted arm, so we’ll be on hand to help with anything.”

Bridget swallowed hard. Cate gave a firm nod and began to leave, and she finally found her voice. “Hey, Cate?”

Cate paused in the doorway. “Um. Maybe an arm scratcher for inside the cast. Like the one you made for me after the skateboarding incident?”

Relief filled her sister’s eyes, and her lips twitched up into a small grin. “Maybe something a little more sophisticated than an iron hanger this time? You’re not exactly ten years old anymore.”

“Yeah,” Bridget said, and wondered why she felt relieved herself. “Like that.”

It took another two hours before she was released. When she was finally settled into the guest bedroom at her mom’s house, Cate presented a plastic fork taped to the end of a dowel rod. It made Mom laugh, smile almost as broad as Cate’s grin.

And for the first time since her dad had died, Bridget felt her breathing come easy.

He was waiting for her on the back porch, like he’d known she’d be there. She settled beside him and he handed over a dark stout. It was what he used to do with Grandpa, and it felt like an honor to share in that now, to take her grandpa’s place.

When he spoke, it was in a quiet tone, not his usual loud and boisterous voice. “You doing okay, Gidget?”

With Mom, it was harder to find the words. Cate kept almost demanding that she talk it out. But with Dad? It always came easy. “I miss him. I didn’t think I’d miss him this much.”

Dad hummed and took another sip of his bottle. “I never expected him to like me, much,” he admitted. “I’d taken his little girl away. But he said he wasn’t so much losing a child as he was gaining one. Because losing a child would be about the worst thing he could imagine.”

That sounded like Grandpa. “Do you think he’s with Grandma?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“I hope so,” he told her fervently. “He’s been looking for her for a very long time.”

“Yeah, in his fairy worlds,” Bridget said, and she laughed, the first laugh since the funeral. Dad rumbled a low chuckle.

“The ‘flash at a moment’s notice’. He’s been talking about that ever since she died.”

That, she hadn’t known. “Not before?”

When Dad spoke next, it was with a slow consideration, as if he hadn’t realized it either. “No, not until then. Not that I know of.”

It was almost too much to ask. But her dad always had the answer. “Do you think he saw it? And went to be with her?”

Dad took another swig of his beer. Bridget took a sip of hers and let it warm her from the inside out. Somewhere near her head, a mosquito buzzed. The bright green leaves of the tree rustled near the fence.

Dad let out a heavy sigh. His voice, when he spoke, was low and sad. “Sometimes, I really think he did.”

Two months passed when, suddenly, the flash came again.

Bridget blinked. The light hung in the air right by the edge of her mom’s roof, conveniently next to the ladder leaning against the gutters. For a moment she stared at it, and it felt as if it were staring back. Her hands began to sweat inside the new gardening gloves Mom had bought her.

Her eyes darted down to the driveway, where Mom and Cate were moving a tarp full of leaves to the backyard. It was just her and the chance of a lifetime.

With purpose, she strode to the ladder and began to climb.

It was still there when she climbed carefully onto the roof. The green leaves beckoned, and she knew if she moved them aside, she’d see her dad, standing with other people and laughing like he always did. Alive, happy, in a world without her. Her hand trembled as it reached out to the leaves.

The leaves suddenly swung away before she could touch them, and there, leaning on the branch, was her dad.

Her mouth parted in surprise. She couldn’t find her words. For a long moment they gazed at each other, and she wanted to move, to talk, to do something besides stare at him.

He smiled at her, eyes bright and warm, and her eyes burned. He didn’t offer her a hand inside. She didn’t reach forward. A breath in, a breath out. Slowly she nodded at him.

His smile broadened with pride and love. The flash slowly disappeared, closing around him, and then it was gone. Somehow, she knew it wasn’t ever going to come back.

It was okay, though. She’d be okay.

“Bridget?”

She glanced down and found Cate watching her in trepidation. “You all right?” her sister asked, and she seemed like she was preparing to catch her.

“Just remembering Dad,” she said quietly. Something dripped off her chin and she wiped away the next batch of tears with the back of her wrist. “He used to do all this.”

After a moment, Cate began to climb the ladder. Bridget caught her wrist and helped her up onto the roof. They sat together for a long moment, gazing out at the front yard that still had two piles of leaves waiting for them. The gutters needed to be cleaned out. Lots of things needed to be done now that Dad wasn’t there to do them.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Startled, Bridget turned to Cate. There was a knowing look on her sister’s face. “I know it hasn’t been easy since we lost Dad. And I think…I think you’ve been looking for him.” She pursed her lips but finally gave a small smile. “So, I’m glad that you’re here. That you decided to stay.”

She supposed she had, in a way. “Me too.”

They stayed up there for a little longer before Cate moved towards the ladder. “C’mon. There’s more leaves to get up.”

Once Cate was down and holding the ladder steady, Bridget made her way over to the first rung. Her eyes caught on something, making her pause. There, on the roof’s edge, was a green leaf. It stood out amongst the brown, red, and gold leaves that were gathered on the roof and gutter. A breeze moved through and sent it flying up into the gusting wind.

She only watched it go for a split second before she moved down the ladder to where her sister and mom were waiting