The Grasp of Nighttide (2 page)

15 years later…
 

You were, you are, you shall always be 

My love, for eternity 

Moments with you I cherish the most…… 

I can’t imagine myself without you 

On my own, I can’t possibly do 

We’ll stay together like the sea and coast…

A raindrop fell on Alice’s face and her thoughts were cut off. She blinked once…twice…trying to switch back to reality. The song had magically appeared from the lost memory box at the back of her mind. Still dreamy, she looked up towards the sky and a clear drop fell into her right eye, this time wiping the temporary film covering it. It was true, she did remember something from her life and she had to capture it before it could be snatched away.

She fumbled through the contents of her purse for a scrap of paper, but she only had a couple of old receipts.
 That should do for now,
 she thought, scanning for the longest one she had. After resolving a conflict between last week’s and last month’s receipt, she settled with the latter. 

She wrote it down in haste, managing the space by writing small and dark to make it legible over printed words. Absent-mindedly, her mind registered the items from the receipt: carrots, lettuce, bread, eggs, cereal, apple, and oranges, making up for perhaps the biggest purchase she’d ever made at one time. She shaded the song against the scant raindrops that threatened to wipe it away. Whatever those lines meant to her, she could not afford to lose it again−
nay, never again
.

Halfway through, she turned the receipt over to finish the song. 
I can’t imagine myself
…. The ink that was flowing perfectly along a moment ago stopped. Alice shook it hard and tried again. No use. 

"Argh, this pen!" She gave it another shake before tossing it over her shoulder in anger. "I won't let go of the song." She frantically felt through her purse even though she was aware she had nothing else to write with. Among the ‘papery’ contents, her hand pulled out something that could probably be a substitute−a lipstick. She twisted it open. 

It would be impossible to finish with that
, she thought. 

She looked around and spotted a person leaning on a tree directly opposite where she sat. His legs were slightly crossed and ended in good-looking heavy boots. A newspaper hid his face while getting gradually damp with the rain. As Alice went closer, she realized that the headline was from a month ago.

     “Do you have a pen I can borrow?” she asked. 

He didn’t answer. 

“Excuse me sir,” Alice tried to get his attention. 

Instead of at least looking at her, he pulled the paper so close to his face that surely he couldn’t read a word. 

Can’t deal with psychos now, 
Alice thought. 

Luckily,  a man in his early thirties came along, dressed in a Sherlock Holmes-style coat with an umbrella in one hand and a book in the other. Alice would have ignored him, seeing as he was in a hurry already, but a more important detail caught her eye: a silver pen was securely hooked to the book cover. Although she normally wouldn’t have, in her desperation she went up to him. 

“May I borrow your pen, please?” Alice sounded almost frantic. 

Somewhat unsure of this woman, he brought the book in front of him. “Keep it,” he said in a rushed voice. She took it from him in a second with only one thought in mind- 
Now I can finish
. By the time she looked up again, the man was gone. She turned around in time to see him fading in the distance. 

“Hey, thanks,” she shouted, although she knew he was well out of range. She glanced back at the arrogant newspaper man in triumph, whom she thought was looking, but wasn’t. 

Back on the bench, the receipt was gone. She’d left it right under her purse, but it wasn’t there. It wasn’t there or anywhere else to be found. It seemed like hidden forces were plotting against her. After all, she came down here almost every day and would sit idly, often trying to gather what might’ve happened to her. It seemed that today, everything from the book of tricks was being tried and she would lose the song to the dark.

I will not lose it
, Alice pulled out more paper in haste. The lipstick had not been securely closed and as she pulled it out of her purse, it dove into the muddy puddle below. Alice kept a hand over her pocket and winced, recalling the money it had cost. She half bent in in an effort to pick it up, then stopped. She rewrote the song—this time on three separate smaller receipts−and stowed them in her pocket. She gave the now-brown lipstick, which was once crimson red, one last hard look before pulling her eyes away.

The evening sky was blotted out by dark clouds, nothing unusual, as the Colorado skies were meant to be that way, especially with winter reeling in.  Castle Pines was no exception. Any day now,
 
snow would start to fall as the temperature continued to plummet. The local farmers studied the sky carefully, trying to judge when they should bring their livestock in, worrying about how much feed was going to cost them for the winter. The snow would convert the area into a winter wonderland with beautiful scenery: tall snow-covered pines and fields covered with new-fallen snow. It would be picture perfect. The snow blankets would glisten over the rolling landscape, giving the place a quiet, peaceful feel. The locals mentioned the winter here to be bleak, but that wouldn’t bother Alice; her life in itself was miserable. 

The rain started to fall softly, steadily. “I wish each drop was a moment of my past,” she whispered, stopping and reaching out her cupped palm to catch a few of them. Her expression was that of someone who was left with nothing. She felt like she was ‘Alice in Wonderland’. 

Alice knew nothing about the land,
she corrected
, but at least she knew about herself.

The eerie feeling that someone was watching crept over her; the hairs on the back of her neck bristled. She turned towards the newspaper man, who still paid no heed. In one quick scan, Alice caught the onlookers. On the furthest
 
side of the park, near the smaller iron gate, Mr. and Mrs. Paul sat staring at her. This wasn’t the first time they had done so. They sensed that Alice was alone after months of observation, and that might have appealed to them.

Mr. Paul, a retired accountant, who was clearly over seventy years of age, warmed himself with a puffy jacket that made him look twice his actual size. A colorful shawl with shapes on it was draped around his neck. Mrs. Diane Paul, his wife of three months however, was fifty-nine, according to what Alice had heard. With her twinkling eyes and faint wrinkles, she looked younger than her age. It seemed to Alice that just a week ago, Mrs. Paul had appeared even younger. The winter must have taken its toll on her. She wore a short sleeved sweater over a jacket and different gloves on each hand. The couple huddled under an umbrella and watched Alice as if she starred in a telecast of a sad old movie. 

The pity stares again,
 Alice thought and started walking. 

Why can’t they be happy that they have each other?
With their looks still scorching her back, Alice nearly slipped while trying to walk faster. She tossed her long brown ponytail back in an effort to appear oblivious to the near fall. But it was only another few steps before her leg rammed into a bench. Her knee took full impact of what felt like a blow from a hammer. A great show for grandpa and grandma−for free! What could be better than to watch a girl howling and jumping on one leg? All of a sudden, she could make out the sound of heavy boots approaching her. But Alice had had enough of what was happening. Ignoring the pain, she ran towards the gate, the path wet with a blend of rain and her tears.

Once outside, Alice began to think of why, out of all her memories, this song had come to mind. 
What was the connection?
 Meanwhile, her legs were taking her somewhere, like a prescheduled program that she didn’t have to monitor. Alice realized
 
her location when her fingers began to ache. Her finger snapping habit always started when thoughts circled her mind, and Alice could register slight pain−especially in her right thumb−these days whenever she did it. 

Alice stretched her hand and looked around. The gloom of the onset of winter was contrasted by the colorful winter outfits disappearing as people hurried away. Alice breathed into her palms and rubbed them hard to warm up. She had almost reached the sign and taking shelter was of no use; she was wet anyway. 

The sign, with words etched on wood, stood behind a field and beside a church. She often saw children playing baseball, soccer or racing in the field. Now it was abandoned. After all, rain and cold made a bad combination for outdoor games.

The sign read- 

Things that happen are for a reason
.
 

Things that do not are for a reason too
.
 

Early last month, Alice had come across this sign when she had chosen a random path during her walk. The words on that sign had brought her an inner calm from the first time she saw them; from then on, she made it a point to visit the sign daily. Today was the 51
st
 day, and she repeated it as always: 

Things that happen are for a reason.
 

Things that do not are for a reason too.
 

Things that happened to me are for a reason.
 

Things that did not happen to me are for a reason too.
 

Today she
 
could only stare at it, unable to accept it as easily as she did all those other days. 

There is a reason, 
she soothed herself. 
A reason for being alone, a reason to have forgotten everything, a reason to have lost my identity.
 Without warning
, 
she snapped, unable to take it any longer. She was at the edge of her patience; it gave way instantly. 

“Damn it!” Alice shouted as she kicked the sign and tried to pull it out of the ground. “I believed you, you liar. The things that happened to me are for an 
unreasonable
 reason. You get it? 
Unreasonable
 reason, you piece of wood, you stupid one legged piece of shit.” The sign wasn’t as firm in the ground as she had expected and it wasn’t long before she slammed it to the ground. Alice jumped on it, shouting and swearing for the first time in public. Her voice trailed off when she realized she was not alone.

A priest from the church was standing behind her, looking on silently. She stepped off the sign and let it go but not before delivering it a final kick. The sound was loud and though the wood did not show any signs of damage except for shoe prints, Alice’s knuckles had begun to throb. She didn’t feel it, though; she was just too angry to feel anything. When Alice turned to face him, the rain stopped and a beam shone from a crack in the clouds as if it was some moment of spiritual enlightenment. 

“Is something bothering you, my child?” he asked, taking slow and measured steps towards Alice.

Alice’s eyes widened as he approached. “No,” she yelled, sounding more like a snarl. “Don’t…” she shouted as she jump-started running, resisting the urge to throw the sign right at him. 

One of the few things her Mom had mentioned in the letter she had left for Alice was, ‘Stay away from the church; they have holy men with crosses saying they can help. They can only reassure you, but they cannot help. Keep God in your heart. Stay away from churches - every single one of them.’ She had also written to keep clear from any person dealing with paranormal activities. But she didn’t even know the reason for that. She didn’t know how many things had happened (or didn’t happen) for ‘unreasonable reasons’.

 ***** 

As she passed by the park again, a certain button of her brain that had the song stored in it pressed. With the rain gone, she retrieved the receipts and sang it to herself in the same tune as it had come to her earlier, trying to get to the next line, but couldn’t remember any more of it. Not a single word.

“Alice,” a boy called her from across the street. “I need some help over here.” 

Howard Hamilton. She had met him one month ago near the church. He was seven and had come to stay in town with his aunt for a while. "Mom had three babies at once,” he had told her when she inquired. “Can you believe it? I got two little sisters and a brother all in one day.” Alice always remembered that when she saw him. And it always made her smile despite how troubled she was. 

“Alice!” he shouted again with cupped hands around his mouth. He continued shouting until she finally reached him. 

“It took you long enough,” his blue eyes managed a stern look. “I brought this up to here but I can’t pull it further. I need to get it to the store.” 

There were stuffed toys spread above a partially visible layer of candy boxes. Without a word of protest, she lifted the handle and headed back in the direction she had come from. It would surely be a longer walk home but clearly she had no other option. The rest of the way Howard talked about what was happening at school.