Uncertain (15 page)

“Your maternal grandmother just arrived. She wants you to know that it’s other people’s pleasure to meet you. And she means it.”

“What does she look like?” I asked, feeling slightly stupid. I darted a look around to see if anyone else had been listening. No one was watching.

Layla looked past me. Her eyes seemed unfocused. I looked behind me and saw only a bookshelf filled with books and photos.

“Thick, short, wavy gray hair. Rosy cheeks. She’s wearing white pedal pushers and a fuchsia shirt.” I smiled, remembering a picture of us where she wore almost the exact same thing.

“That’s unbelievable.”

“I know,” she whispered.

That’s when the nightmares started. In one of them, I was being chased and I couldn’t get away. I couldn’t see who was chasing me, but I was certain that what I felt was real. In another, I was sucked under water in the middle of the ocean, and I woke up gasping for air. The one that scared me the most was the one with Dave in it. He was alive at his funeral and no one could see that but me. I tried and tried to scream and tell the people, but they wouldn’t respond.

I worked at the lucid dreaming technique, where I could try to control what was happening, but the scarier the dream, the more certain I was that it was reality. I just couldn’t get myself to realize that I was dreaming. So, I simply had to endure the experiences. The fact that I allowed my fear to take over in these dreams just made me mad. I vowed to get past it.

The nightmares happened all the time. It didn’t matter when I slept—it could happen. I still kept trying to sleep, thinking that I was meant to get another message, another sign. I kept looking for signs while I was awake as well. I’d overinterpret everything from TV ads to comments from random people. I was driving myself crazy.

Kevin had been busy with work, and I was glad for that. I hadn’t seen him in over a week. I didn’t want him to see me so nuts. He would text me from time to time, and as long as I answered within a few minutes, he seemed to be OK with leaving me be.

My grampa was still more hands-off than normal, and it was difficult to take. I wasn’t sure if he was going to snap out of it now that it seemed as if my days of traveling places to rescue babies were done. Or were they? That was my other issue. How could I go on, not knowing if I should be looking for signs? I spent way too much time wondering what this was all about. It was overwhelming me.

I walked over to see Harry, although I wasn’t sure if I would go inside. I just wanted to look in the room. Just for something to do. I stood in the hallway, trying to peek in the room without looking like a lurker. A nurse walked by twice and glanced in my direction, so I slid inside to avoid looking suspicious. Harry was watching TV. He shoved the TV aside and smiled when he saw me. I smiled and sat in the pilled burgundy chair across from his bed.

“Hi, Harry.”

He didn’t respond immediately so I looked around for the marker board. He smiled widely.

“Hello,” he said in a crazy robotic voice, his neck moving with great effort.

I laughed and clasped my hands together. “You can talk!”

“Yes, I can, as long as this voice doesn’t scare you.”

I smiled. “I think it’s super cool. It’s so great that you can talk.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, and his eye crinkles were deep. He put his hand on his chest. “How are you? How are things?”

I nodded and looked down. “Pretty good.”

Harry nodded slowly. “It’s been a while since you last came.”

“Yeah, I took another trip.”

“Oh my. Where to?”

“Mexico.” The word left me, but I didn’t want to go into detail. I didn’t have the energy to get angry with myself although I knew I should just stop talking.

“Good trip?”

I nodded.

“Anything unusual happen?”

I nodded.

“Anything you want to talk about?” He tapped his first finger on his clasped hands that rested on his lap.

“I don’t know,” I said, looking out the window. Harry sat quietly. Several minutes passed as I looked out the window at the brown, bleak courtyard. “I feel like I should talk to you since you can talk now,” I said with an awkward smile. “Does it hurt?”

“No, I’m just getting used to it.”

“Do you have to go to therapy or something?”

“Rita, we don’t have to talk about me. Tell me what’s going on with you. You seem—a little troubled.”

I looked out the window again. “I’ve been getting nightmares.”

Harry nodded.

“They’re bad. Really scary,” I said, feeling stupid for admitting it.

Harry shook his head slowly. “So sorry to hear.” He smiled and tapped his first finger on his bottom lip. “You have an opportunity there, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“The best place to practice being courageous is in your dreams.” He winked at me.

“I never even thought of that,” I told him, impressed with the idea.

We were quiet for a while.

“What did you do in Mexico?”

I watched the heel of my right foot bounce as my nerves got the better of me. “I’m not sure if I should even bring it up,” I said, with a weird, nervous laugh.

“Why’s that?” his new voice asked. I sat up, shaking my head slightly. I was so torn. I wanted to say everything. I wanted to tell him. But, unless you saw it—or lived it—it sounded like I was just making it all up.

“Because it sounds insane.” I made a gesture near my head.

Harry smiled. “I’ll admit, you’ve caught my curiosity.”

I smiled and leaned over with my elbows on my knees. I wasn’t sure if his curiosity was enough of a reason to put myself through this. I thought back to last time when I’d left rudely.

“Maybe just tell me another time then. If you happen to feel like it,” he said, interrupting my thoughts.

“The Mexico trip was the same kind of trip.” The words left me without deciding to say them. I spoke without looking at him. I couldn’t bear to try to read his eyes and guess what he was thinking. “The baby—the one born in California. She was there. She needed me.”

I chanced a look up at him. He was nodding slowly, and his eyebrows came together.

“I saved her,” I said in a small voice. “Only it wasn’t me, really.” I lost myself in the memory for a moment, remembering how it wasn’t my choice to heal her and how that made me feel. I took a deep breath.

“What does that mean?” His voice startled me. I jumped slightly and hoped he didn’t notice. I scratched my arm to try to cover the movement up.

“I didn’t choose to do it. It just happened through me.”

Harry nodded. “Anyone else there?”

“Yes, Kevin came again. He saw everything,” I added quickly, wanting to be sure to specify that I had a witness to prove what had happened. We were both quiet for a few minutes.

Harry spoke again first. “Rita, you’re going through something inexplicable. Irrational. I can’t imagine what I’d be like in your shoes. I think it will behoove you to try not to overthink. If what you’re saying is true, if you’ve saved this child twice—then two things are true. First, you performed a miracle, and second, that baby is most likely very important for some reason.”

“I just want to know if there’s more of this or if I’m done,” I said, feeling frustrated. I realized that it sounded selfish.

“That, my dear, doesn’t seem like something you can control. No matter what the answer is, you seem to have very little say in it. Best advice is just keep to your work. Keep your mind active—on other things.”

“I haven’t been working.”

“Well, time to get back to it! I think it’s the best thing for you. Do normal things, things you enjoy. You must.”

“Yeah?” I said, almost cheerfully.

“Yes. Absolutely,” he said, nodding. “You may find that you’ll feel right as rain just as soon as you get back in habits that
you
choose.”

“OK,” I said, setting my palms on my thighs. I was almost excited. I wanted to get back to work as soon as I could. I felt myself smiling.

“You look ready to go back right now.”

“I think I am.” I giggled and stood up, feeling energized.

“Good, Good…” He interlaced his fingers and set them on his belly.

It was great—a great idea. I thought about giving Murray a call on the walk home. I patted my coat to be sure I’d brought my cell phone. It was there. I thought for sure Murray would have some work. Otherwise, I’d try to get more practice at building some furniture. I could build my grampa that new mantle or build him a substantial masculine rocker. Like a wood whittling, old-man, super-cool rocking chair. Something he’d like.

A voice came from the hallway. “Oh my gosh! Mel? Mel?”

I jerked my head toward the voice: It was Lanie. Kevin’s ex, Lanie. I started to smile until I realized that she called me Mel.
In front of Harry
. My stomach heaved.

“I thought that was you! Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?” she asked, excited. She entered the room. She looked perfect, of course. Like Nurse Barbie.

“Just visiting—someone.” I scratched my head, in a weird, one-direction way because of my ponytail. I completely avoiding looking at Harry.

Lanie had her hands full of supplies and leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Great!”

“Do you—work here?” I asked, scratching my arm and wanting to die.

“I do! That’s why I moved. It’s a good change for me, I think. I’m so sorry—have to run. I’m rushing around right now. But maybe I’ll see you again!”

I nodded rapidly. “Bye.”

I already had my back to Harry, so I started to walk out the door, feeling horrified. I sensed myself feeling righteous, and I started to justify my use of a fake name and all. I didn’t have to explain anything to this old man. I kept walking, then stopped myself as I got into the hallway. No, I’m not doing this again, I decided. I turned completely around and walked back to Harry’s bed. I stood there for a moment, searching my brain for the right words.

“I lied to you,” I told him, finally looking into his golden brown eyes. “My name is Amelia—well, Mel for short. It’s not Rita.” I looked at his face. He wasn’t angry. I felt absolute shame. I looked out the window. “I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell you anything when I first met you, and so I told you my name was Rita, but it isn’t. I swear that’s all I lied about. I don’t even know why I lied about something so stupid. The rest is all true. I promise.”

I took a deep breath and looked up at him. He had a wide smile, and it threw me off completely.

“I know,” he said.

“Wa—how?” I asked.

“You don’t look like a Margarita,” he said with a wispy laugh. “At all.” He laughed again. “Plus, I can typically spot a lie.”

“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I really am.”

“I know.” He smiled.

Then I remembered. “I guess I lied about another thing. I lost my parents in a car accident, not a boating accident.”

“That’s OK. It’s hard to trust a stranger—I don’t mind. Really.” He smiled. I felt relief rush over me. I started to tell him that I’d see him later when he spoke again. “I’ve got a question for
you
though. Any idea why I’m here?” he asked, seeming genuine.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’m not complaining,” he said, opening his interlaced fingers to show his palms. “But, they should have sent me back to my assisted living home quite some time ago.”

“Maybe just talk to them,” I said, shrugging, and I looked around for a nurse.

“I don’t think you understand what I mean.”

“OKKK…” I said, dragging out the word, looking back at him and feeling confused.

“No one is in any hurry to send me anywhere. Seems rather coincidental, doesn’t it? Most people who’ve had this procedure done don’t spend this much time here. They’re in and out. I mean, I had it bad and had a residual infection, but even still—I’ve been here for months.”

“You have,” I said, looking away and thinking. “Why is that?”

“I haven’t the faintest.”

“Do you want to go home?”

“No, ma’am,” he said matter-of-factly. “Food is horrendous at my place. I prefer the meals here, and I get far more kindness here.”

“Well that’s good then.”

“Yes, but curious, don’t you think? It’s never even a topic that we discuss when the medical staff talks with me about my health.”

I nodded. “For sure, that’s super weird. They usually rush you in and out.”

“That they do, that they do.” He nodded, still looking at me. “I was just wondering if I was here for
you
.”

“Really?”

“I’ve just been wondering,” he said, his face serious.

Having a normal conversation with anyone who knew about what had happened had been impossible. That eliminated Kevin, Vita, and Harry from my ‘normal conversation’ pool of people to talk to. Since my grampa’s new super-chill attitude was still weird to me, I avoided him a little as well. I was pretty much on my own. I kept trying to be OK with it. It was easier this way—at least that’s what I kept telling myself.

I had the nightmares somewhat less often. I tried my best to use them as an opportunity to practice being brave, but mostly, I just made myself wake up when I realized I was having a dream. That was easier.

              I had been back to work for a few weeks. Murray was glad because he’d just gotten a job for a wood-paneled, super-swank office in Grosse Pointe, and I was his best ‘finish guy.’ I was happy because it wasn’t another basement job, and because the place was only about a ten-minute drive for me. I had never done a raised-wood-panel room, so the job would be very good experience to have.

              Kevin had been pretty tied up with work for the last few weeks, and I hadn’t talked to him much. Just a couple times a week. He was thinking of having a party at his house to take his new bar for a spin. But nothing was planned yet.

              At just after four that afternoon, my cell phone rang. I was still at work and didn’t hear it with all the noise in the house. But I noticed a voice message as I headed home. I listened to it: “Hi Mel, it’s Wren. I was hoping we could have our low-key sweatpants date. Give me a call. Aw, I just blew it, didn’t I. You probably won’t call me back because I mentioned the date. Forget that first part and just call me back. Don’t be chicken.” He laughed. “OK, bye.”

              He was right. Although my stomach squished when I heard his message—and I really wasn’t sure why—I didn’t feel like going on a date, and that made calling him back an ultra-low priority for me. But as I drove home, I reminded myself that he’d driven all the way to Dexter for Vita’s party just to talk to me. That was a huge drive just to ask me to go out. So, after I pulled up into my driveway, I sat in the truck and called him back.

              “You called me back!” he answered happily.

              “Sure I did,” I said, smiling at his tone.

              “Still up for heading out with me?”

              “I think I could deal with that,” I said, in a slightly playful voice. Oh my God I was flirting. I felt it happening. I shook my head. I had just blown my opportunity to back out.

              “So, I had kind of an offbeat idea.”

              “Yeah, what’s that?”

              “Do you…like surprises?” he asked, sounding excited.

              “Oh, I’m not actually sure if I do.” I’d had enough surprises.

              “Well, I’m thinkin’ that if I say what my idea is out loud, it will sound bad and you won’t want to go.”

              “Oh boy.”

“C’mon…”

Whatever, I thought to myself. “Well, I guess if you can promise that it will be low key, then I’m OK with the rest being a surprise.” I really just wanted to get this over with. And any surprise that involved sweats couldn’t be that bad.

              “Excellent! It’s kind of a daytime thing. Can we go on Saturday?”

              “Yeah, I think I can do that. What time?”

              “Around noon?”

              “OK, sure. Where should I meet you?”

              “Can I pick you up?”

              “Oh, OK, sure,” I said.

              “OK, just text me your address, and I’ll pick you up at noon on Saturday.”

              “Sounds good. See you then.”

              “OK, bye.”

              “Bye.”

              I walked to Harry’s place again, just before the end of visiting hours. I didn’t want him to be expecting visitors, and I wouldn’t need long. I walked casually up to the door and saw that the curtain between Harry and his roommate was extended. Good. From the hallway, I couldn’t see Harry. I could only see his feet and hear the TV.

              I walked past the room quickly and then came back from the opposite direction, as quiet as I could be. I walked up to the roommate’s bed and I stood over him, anxiety swelling in my stomach. I clenched my hands together and waited. I thought of Dave, I thought of Drina, and I waited. C’mon…I thought to myself. C’mon. I opened my hands and turned them over so that my palms faced me. I watched them, waiting for them to turn blue. Nothing happened.

              I pulled the picture of the woman at the picnic table out of my pocket and held it between my palms, waiting for something amazing to happen. Nothing.

             
So that’s it
, I said in my mind. I can
’
t speak languages when
I
want to, I can
’
t
heal
when I want to. I
’
m just a body to be used. I waited for a minute longer. As if whatever force behind my special powers would allow me to use them out of guilt at how unfair this was to me. Right.

              I stared at the sleeping roommate for a few minutes, thinking that the moment I left, my hands would turn blue and have healing powers for a short window of time, and I would miss the opportunity. Nothing happened. I turned and walked out, anger lying on my chest.

              I left the building and started to walk home. I was the most frustrated that I ever have been in a lifetime. I couldn’t help anyone. I was just a puppet on a string. The anxiety in my stomach wouldn’t go away, either. I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream and hit shit. I wished I were a black belt or a doctor, or both. Something that would make any of this make sense or be deserved. I hated my life. I hated this situation. I hated every single thing, and I was intensely angry. My stomach burned with anger.

              I sat down against the wall of a dry cleaner’s that was closed. I sat there, trying to keep my brain sane and let myself cool down. It was only about 20 degrees out and I started to pull my arms inside my winter coat to try to keep warm when my phone rang. It was Kevin. I set the phone down, not planning to answer. He called back, immediately. I had to answer it. Two calls in a row meant it was important.

              “Hi,” I answered, impatience in my voice.

              “Hey, where are you?”

              “Just outside, or whatever.” I realized it was a dumb response.

              “Huh?”

              “I thought two calls in a row meant it was important,” I said, sharply.

              “Yeah, it was because I’m worried about you.”

              “I’m a big girl, Kev—no worrying.”

              “C’mon, Mel. Tell me what’s going on.”

              “I just need some time to sort some things out.”

              “OK. But, where are you?” He paused. “Are you outside?”

              I sighed. “I’m at the dry cleaner’s down the street from my house, just sitting outside.”

              “OK, I’m in my car. I’ll be right there.”

              “Kevin, no. I’m fine. Please, you don’t need to come.”

              “I’ll be there in less than five minutes. Don’t move.”

              My chest felt heavy and pressured, and I was more angry than before. Like I couldn’t handle myself? I didn’t need this guy rescuing me every time I got overwhelmed. I considered running. I just felt as if running would help.

              Kevin pulled up just a few minutes later and parked his truck. He came to sit next to me on the ground against the wall.

              “Hey,”

              I was still angry. “You didn’t have to come.”

              “I know. I’m just worried about you.”

              “Why, Kevin? I can take care of myself.”

              “Mel, no one can handle what you’ve had to handle all by themselves.”

              “Well, maybe
I
can,” I said with anger.

              “Maybe. But I’m just not sure. I would be a wreck.”

              The words rushed from me. “I don’t want to tell you anything. I’m tired of feeling crazy. I’m tired of all of this. All of it. I’m just a bizarre pawn in all of this. How the hell did they choose me? J-just don’t try to answer. I want to be angry, and I’m tired of unanswered questions and trying to guess. So tired. I have no special skills. I’m a basket case.”

              Kevin stared at the ground in front of him.

              “Do you know why I’m here?” I asked.

              “Not really,” he answered.

              “I’m here because I go to visit this—well, this man. And I go to visit him, but I don’t like to visit the hospital so I tell myself that it’s NOT the hospital, that it’s a medical center. What does it matter whether it’s a hospital or a medical center? I have no idea. I lie to myself to keep my shit straight in my head. It doesn’t matter even a little bit—but I can’t
deal
with it, I guess, so I tell myself it’s not a hospital.”

              Kevin nodded. “There are worse things.”

              I didn’t respond. We were quiet for a few minutes.

              “Who are you supposed to forgive?” Kevin asked me, looking me dead in my eyes. I shook my head compulsively over and over.

              “It’s OK, Mel. It’s OK.”

              “Not really,” I said with a freaky laugh. My chest felt tighter.

              “You can trust me.”

              “I know. Stop saying that.” I began to rock a little. My hands started to shake and I tucked them behind my knees to stop the shaking and to warm them.

              “C’mon, Mel. You gotta get some of this out of there.”

              “I don’t want to cry,” I told him. I was so sick of it.

              “I don’t care if you cry,” he whispered.

              “Well, I do!” I snapped.

              “Just tell me. That guy in Mexico said something about forgiving ‘him’ and you looked just terrible when he said that. Let me help you.”

              I lifted my chin up and swallowed hard. I started to shake my head again. “It’s my father. I’m supposed to forgive my father.” My eyes welled up with tears and I blinked hard, making them go away.

              Kevin looked confused. “But, why?”

              My brain kept telling me that this was a forbidden conversation. I shouldn’t go on. I shouldn’t. Still, I felt the tiniest amount of relief at those first words, and Kevin’s expression was desperate.

              “Why?” he urged when I didn’t answer. “What did he do?”

              “He was the one driving,” I said through clenched teeth.

              Kevin brought his head back slowly and looked at me in obvious understanding.

              “He wasn’t a good driver. He was too aggressive, but he insisted on driving every time.”

              Kevin was quiet, and I was feeling that I just wanted to curl up and freeze to death.

              “But he was a good dad, otherwise, right?” he asked.

              I nodded.

              “And he loved your mom, right?”

              I nodded, tears streaming down my face. Kevin put an arm around me. I impulsively jumped. I nearly shoved his arm away. I didn’t want to hug him right now. I didn’t want to need him. I wanted to stand on my own.

              “It’s got to be an impossible situation for you. Impossible. But, he was a good person. No one means for these things to happen. No one.”

              “I know,” I answered, miserable. “He just—what if he wasn’t paying good attention. What if he could have prevented it?”

              “That’s something no one will ever know.”

              “I hate it,” I told him.

              “I know.”

              I laughed randomly.

              “What?” Kevin asked.

              “I have a date. I have a date with Wren. Like I’m in any state for a date.”

              “Tonight!?” Kevin asked, alarmed.

              “No, no. Saturday.”

              “You could cancel,” he suggested with a shrug.

              “Yeah, I could. I just don’t want to make that phone call.”

              “I could call him for you.”

              “I don’t think that would go over well. He already asked me about our relationship.”

              “Wow, look at him. Already trying to get the lay of the land. Impressive.”

              I just stared at Kevin with an odd expression.

              “Tell him what I plan to tell every girlfriend I ever have. If you want me, you get us both. Tell him I’m part of the deal. Tell him you’re one of my best friends.”