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He eases himself down into the chair across from her. “I’ll be here for you, Koala.”
“My curandero?”
“I wish I were as qualified.” He chuckles. “No. I’ll simply be your trip sitter.”
Holly holds the pen near her lips, feeling unexpectedly nervous all of a sudden. “Two long inhales, right?”
“Yes.” Walter smiles. “Find your safe and happy place.”
Holly can only smile to herself. Being here with her grandfather is one of her happiest—and safest—places.
She exhales and then brings the pen to her lips, tasting the cool tip. She sucks in fully, feeling the burn of the smoke as it snakes down her windpipe. Fighting off a cough, she holds her breath, keeping the chemicals trapped in her lungs for as long as possible. She blows out a white puff of smoke and then launches into a coughing fit. The unexpectedly acrid stench makes her eyes water.
“Stinks, doesn’t it?” Walter chuckles.
As soon as Holly catches her breath, she inhales a second long puff. Then she lowers the mask over her eyes. Everything goes dark around her.
“Go back to the forest, Koala.”
Holly can’t tell if it’s her imagination, but her grandfather’s voice already sounds distorted. “Remember how the branches were everywhere?” he asks. “So thick you couldn’t see the sun or the sky above.”
A vision begins to take shape. But it’s not a forest. Lights of every color surround her. Like a tunnel made from a prism. At first, the lights weave and bend in synchrony with the strings and horns of the orchestra. And then they turn into streaks as Holly suddenly shoots down a tunnel past them, as if fired out of a cannon. But the movement feels so calm and tranquil, more like floating in a warm bath than rocketing through space.
Suddenly, the lights explode above her, and she’s standing under the crescendo of fireworks. For a moment, there’s only darkness again. Then something slowly materializes out of the blackness, as though the individual molecules are bonding right in front of her eyes to take the shape of something. No, not something. Someone. But the form isn’t entirely human. His whole body is translucent. And while Holly can make out his facial features, she can also somehow see his brain behind it. And his beating heart inside his chest.
He takes a step toward her. As he flexes his knees, she can see the muscles under the skin of his legs contract against the bones. But she feels no fear. Only love. She opens her arms to welcome him.
Hollycopter.
Even if he hadn’t uttered the nickname that he alone used for her, she would have recognized him. She can feel his presence as strongly as a warm breeze against her cheek.
Daddy!
I’m here, Holly.
Where is here?
With you. Wherever you are. Wherever you go.
Joy overwhelms her. An ecstasy which is almost painful in its intensity. You are, Dad?
Always, Hollycopter.
She feels the wet warmth of her own tears soaking the bottom of her blindfold, and remembers that she has a body, anchored to the earth by gravity. The accident, Dad… was it my fault?
No, Hollycopter.
Tell me what happened, Daddy! I can’t remember.
Something else appears beside her father’s ethereal form, and he turns toward it. It’s made entirely of light, and yet also looks familiar. Then she places it. The old family station wagon! Suddenly, the vehicle bursts into flames, and Holly recoils from the intense heat of the blaze.
But the raging fire doesn’t deter her father. He approaches it. Holly lunges to try to stop him, but her feet won’t budge. All she can do is wave her hands frantically.
No, no, no, Daddy. Don’t!
He flashes her a smile that is love incarnate.
And then he slowly lowers himself inside the flaming vehicle.
