Uncertain (3 page)

I remembered the rumply feel of his shirt when I had him pinned. I rubbed my fingers together under the table, as if that would help me remember. My mind reeled with the possibilities of who else it could be. Was it the fake homeowner that I’d been looking for?

“Ya all right, hon?” my grampa asked.

I snapped out of it, shaking my head a little.

“Oh. Yeah. Just…remembered something.”

The next morning, I went to the jobsite to talk with Murray. I’d decided that I really was going to take some more time off.

As I approached the house, I saw two bricklayers working on the front of the facade. One of them was wearing a shirt with a Mexican flag on it. Plus, they just looked Mexican. I stopped in front of them, remembering that I had been able to speak flawless Spanish days before without ever learning it.

“Hey,” I said. I wanted to try out my new Spanish skills.

“Hello,” they responded together, looking expectantly at me.

I thought of what I wanted to say, and I opened my mouth, waiting. Nothing came out. Not a single word of Spanish. I closed my mouth and stood there in a clearly arrogant posture with my hand on my hip, thinking that I was about to impress them with my awesome Spanish.

The men held their tools mid-air and looked at each other. I’m sure they were wondering if I was a total head case. I moved my feet as if that would help in some way, and I waited. I gave it another ten or so seconds of extreme non-Spanish speaking silence and waiting before I opened my mouth again. Nothing happened. I decided to call it off.

“Um. Good morning,” I said in very plain English. “Your work looks super nice.” They nodded and looked at each other and began to work again. I turned hesitantly and walked up the steps of the house.

I tossed open the door and went inside. Harry had been standing near the front door.

“And what the
hell
was that?” he said kinda loud with a hand extended in the direction of the bricklayers. Both of his ripped, beige, pant legs were stuck in his socks today. One in the back and one on the side.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

He made a noise. “Yeah, well, OK. So, what did you want to talk to me about?” He walked me to the back of the house near the basement steps where no guys were around.

“I was just thinking that I want to take a little more time off.” I crammed my hands in my front pockets, feeling a little nervous.

Murray popped his ball cap off his head and scratched his mostly gray hair before saying, “You pregnant, Mel?” He had an incredibly apologetic look on his face.

“What?!” I asked, my words thick with disbelief.

“Well, you know, week or so ago you went on vacation with—well, with a man. I know, I know, I know. Kevin’s your friend.” He air-quoted ‘friend’ and then folded his arms across his chest. “But, well, sometimes…with some friends—they have—I just mean things happen—and…”

Horror shot through me. I couldn’t believe this conversation. This was the huge downside to knowing your boss outside of work.

“Please stop talking,” I said, holding my hand up and clenching my eyes closed.

Murray re-seated his baseball hat and crossed his arms again. “I’m just trying to let you know that you could tell me if that was the case.”

“Yeah, and I probably would. But, it’s not.” I glared at him. “
At all
.”

“I’m just saying, no one would blame you if one thing led to another. It’s happened a million times before to a million different people.” He stared at the ground.

“Murray, you’re killing me right now. Please stop. I’m literally begging you. Please.”

Murray looked at me, widening his stance. “Not pregnant then?”             

“Is that seriously still a question right now?”

He re-seated his ball cap again. “OK. So just taking a break?”

“
Yes.
Are you OK with that?”

He put his arm around me and opened the door, walking me back to my car. “Yes, Miss Mel. And if I wasn’t OK with it, I’d better build us a real office and get some of those chairs on wheels and portable personal computers.” I just looked at him, not understanding. “I only mean that it’s part of this industry. No big thing. You don’t work, I don’t pay you. Not like in them office buildings.” He walked me over to my car. “Just be sure and tell your grampa.” I stood by the driver’s door.

“OK, I will. Thanks, Murray.”

“I miss having your detail work, Miss Mel.”

“It won’t be for long.”

“I’ll hold ‘ya to it,” he said, walking away. He stopped and turned back to me. “Oh, and hey—” I looked up at him. “Stop talking to Mexican people.”

“Shut up, Murray,” I said with a smirk, getting into the car. He had really entertained himself with that one and bent over laughing his high-pitched cackle as I drove off.

Right after 11 at night a few days later, Kevin called my cell as I was getting into bed.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he said. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nope, just got into bed.”

“Oh, OK.”

“Is something up?”

“Nah—well, I just wondered if you wanted to talk at all.”

“Now?”

“Now, later, on the phone, in person—anything.” He paused. “We just haven’t talked much about what happened in California. We’re pretty much the only people we can talk to about it. Everyone else will think we’re nuts.”

“Yeah…” I trailed off.

“Maybe we go get some coffee or something?”

“Now?”

“Well, if you’re already in bed, it can wait.”

“Yeah, let’s get together. But not tonight. I’ve already got my pajamas on.”

“Like
that
would stop you,” he teased.

“HA.”

“OK, good night,” he said.

“G’night.”

I fell asleep as soon I closed my eyes. That’s when the dreams began. I was standing knee-deep in water. But the water wasn’t cold the way I had expected it to feel. It seemed to be very early in the morning, and the sun was an amber slice coming up over the deep turquoise water. I could see well enough and looked up to see what was left of the night sky. I spotted several moon-like spheres high above, in addition to numerous twinkling stars. I occupied myself with staring at them for a time. 

While I looked around again, I waited for something or someone to come and communicate with me the way I had experienced in dreams past. I slowly turned to gaze in each direction and saw nothing other than the round, rising sun growing larger and lighting the sky more and more.

I decided to walk over to the beach instead of standing in the water, but when I tried to move my legs, they wouldn’t budge. I suddenly felt tired in my dream, and I didn’t like the feeling. My hands felt itchy, and I rubbed them together, but that didn’t help. As I stood there, looking around for something to see, I felt something pulling me into the water.

Panic welled up inside me when I realized I was being pulled under the water and I couldn’t do anything about it. My heart began to beat faster, and I craned my neck up toward the sky so that I could breathe for as long as possible. Meanwhile, the water inched in an agonizingly slow way up my body. I pulled harder now, trying to resist, but as always in my dreams, I was never as strong or as fast as I wanted to be.

My breathing became erratic, and I struggled more and more to fight the force pulling me under the water. The water, moving millimeter by millimeter up my body, almost tickled, it was so slow and steady. I felt a tremendous and continuous pull on my hands and feet.

The water inched up to my shoulders, and tears began to stream down my face. In a blink, the water closed up over my head. I felt myself getting dizzy, still thrashing to rise back above the water. Something touched my hand. I forced my eyes open and looked under the water. It was a tennis racket. I grabbed the oval part with both hands and I was pulled from the water.

A woman stood in front of me, holding the tennis racket. “You’re fine now. Calm down.”

She was the same woman I’d dreamed about before. She wore ink-black eyeliner on her upper lids and had platinum blonde hair, styled just so—with wide, black sunglasses on the top of her head. She threw the tennis racket in the back seat of her convertible, parked nearby.

“Can you understand me?” she asked, sounding annoyed.

I nodded. I was out of the water and standing in the sand now. I opened my mouth.

“Don’t talk, for God’s sake. I’ll never hear the end of it,” she rushed to say. “We’re just waiting for ‘mama.’” She said the last word slowly, the way a child might. She was mocking me.

She had removed her glove, and it waited on the door of the car. She walked over and slipped it on up to her elbow and tugged it back into place, taking time to make each finger slid snugly into place. She leaned against the car near the front tire, crossing her arms. She wore a fluffy, turquoise dress with pink ruffles on the underside that seemed to be from the 50s.

“I was your original handler, you know,” she said, looking down the beach. “You rejected me, and the handler after me. So your mother stepped in. And she was just the
perfect
fit.” Her words were thick with sarcasm. “She’ll be here any minute. Just think of me as your hold music until she arrives. These are the jobs I get.” She looked down to something next to me. “Nice dog.” The sandy dog stood right next to me. I hadn’t seen him earlier. His coat was tattered.

“Here she is.” The woman opened her mouth and threw her hands up in fake enthusiasm. “Enjoy.” She stood straight and turned to walk to the driver’s side, her poufy dress tilting as she walked. She got in the car and drove off.

I looked around and lifted my hand to touch a pink fleck in the sky. I noticed that my hands were glowing blue. I lifted them both now to examine them and turned them over and over, simply looking at them.

Just then, my mother appeared. She wore wide-leg beige pants and a Kelly-green blouse. She had a worried look on her face and didn’t have her normal, casual walk. She was hurrying to me.

“Hello, sweetheart. Please don’t be afraid. You’re going to be fine. You know I will be sure of that, right, Melly? I’ve been so proud of you lately. My gosh, Mel. So proud.” She must have known that I was still wobbly after being sucked under the water. “Are you OK?” she asked. “Just shake or nod you head.”

I nodded.

I tried to regain control of my thoughts, knowing she’d said she would take care of me. I focused on who I would lose. I wanted her to understand my question. I looked at her with a desperate expression. How could I tell her that I’d been agonizing over who it would be? Why hadn’t she said who last time?

She tilted her head and looked at me. “You want to know who you’ll lose, don’t you? Of course. You were pulled from the dream last time. That didn’t go well. I’m very sorry about that. You must have been going out of your mind.”

I just looked at her, waiting.

She pursed her lips and continued. “I’m sorry to tell you—it’s Dave. And it’ll happen very soon.”

              My eyes popped open to a dark bedroom. I looked over at the clock. It was just after midnight. I picked up my cell phone, planning to call Kevin. Then I set the phone back down, thinking that calling him would be rude. I was sure he was sleeping. I spun my phone on the nightstand a few times while I lay on my stomach. I picked it up again and flipped over to lie on my back, setting the phone on my forehead. I sighed loudly.

              “What would I think if I knew he was lying in bed thinking of calling me, but he didn’t?” I whispered to myself in the dark. “I’d want him to call,” I answered myself out loud.

              I took the phone off my head and sat up in my bed and dialed him.

              “Hey, are you OK?” he answered, clearing his throat.

              “Yes—well. Yes. But not…I mean, I’m home, and nothing is wrong. I’m just kinda flipping out over something stupid. Did I wake you up?”

              “Nah. I was still watching TV.”

              “Oh, good.”

              He waited.

              “I’m just—I just…had kind of a weird dream.”

              “Something bad?”

              “Kinda.”

              “Weird, how?” he urged.

              “I mean—I don’t know what I mean.” I heard someone talk. “Oh, do you have someone over?”

              “No, it’s the TV.”

              “OK.”

              “Do you want to tell me about it?”

              Something felt very not helpful about talking about it on the phone. As if it would be an absolute waste of time.

              “No, no. I’m actually fine.”

              “Well, wait. What if I came there or something? Or you could come here if you want to. Might be easier. I want to help.”

              “I don’t want to bother you with it. I mean it was just a dream. I’m good.”

“You’re not—stop it. I’m coming over.” I heard his voice change as if he was getting up. “I’ll call you when I’m in the driveway.”

“Fine. Bye,” I said, slightly annoyed. But what did I expect him to do? I’m the one who called him. Now I had to figure out how I’d talk to him without waking up my grampa—and what I was going to say to him once he got here. I walked across the room toward the front of the house and sat in my gramma’s chair so I could see out the window to the driveway. It was an antique chair that had a needlepoint seat and that I kept by the window. It gave a creak as I sat down.

I was annoyed with myself for calling Kevin and shook my head every few minutes while I traded looks outside with looks at the floor. I tried with all my energy not to fall asleep sitting up in the chair and not to think about anything from my dream.

About 10 minutes later, I saw headlights bounce up into my driveway. I put on my slippers and walked down the stairs as lightly as I could, holding myself up with the banister over the creaky step in order to skip over it so I didn’t wake my grampa. I froze for a second when the bottom step squeaked, to be sure he didn’t wake up.

I slowly crept to the front door and opened it as smoothly as I could so the doorknocker wouldn’t tap. The cold night air was icy. I pulled the door shut gently behind me and jogged to Kevin’s car. He leaned across and swung the door open for me, just before I reached it.

“Hey,” I said, getting in the car. He had the heat cranked up.

“Hey. I brought you a sucker,” he said, his voice sounding funny due to the sucker already puffing his own cheek. He held his hand out, and I took the sucker. I laughed a little at how random this all was.

“Thanks.”

“Spill. What’s up? What was the dream?”

This felt too casual and normal, and my frame of mind wasn’t the same as it had been when I called him. I was wasting his time. When I’d called, I wasn’t fully awake. If I had been fully awake, I wouldn’t have bothered him. Seeing him made me more rational or something.

“I don’t know. It seems stupid to tell you about a dream,” I told him.

“C’mon, I want to help.” He yawned.

I nodded. He knew me. This wasn’t that scary, I told myself. He knew me. Just try to tell him.

“I’ve just—so I’ve had dreams, you know?”

“More than usual ones—weird dreams, right? That’s what started all of the other stuff?”

              “Yeah.” I traced the logo letters on the dashboard and stole a look at the house to see if any lights had come on.

              “So what’s changed?” He yawned again.

              “Kevin, you can go home. This is crazy. You’re super tired.”

              “Melly.” He folded his arms. “I’ll sleep right here in your driveway if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

              I puffed out an irritated laugh and tried to gather my thoughts. “Well, some of the dreams I have—they’re clues, I guess.”

              “OK, clues about what?” He pulled his sucker out of his mouth.

              “Well, when we went to California, the reason I decided to go was because of clues that I got in my sleep but also clues in real life.”

              “How often do you get them?”

              The tone of his voice changed. I thought he figured that I was crazy.

              “We can talk about this another time.” I shook my head and looked at him.

              “No, I’m incredibly
available
right now, and I drove all the way here. Tell me. You can trust me.”

              A weird feeling came over me. I was really relieved to hear those words.

              “I know. It’s just that I sound crazy.”

              “Mel. Please. I saw it—remember? I was there. I know we have some bizarre things going on here. I’m allowing for it when you talk to me.”

              “Allowing for it?” I wasn’t sure what he meant.

              “I just mean that I’m keeping an open mind because of what we’ve been through.” He popped his sucker back in his mouth. “What I’ve seen you do,” he added, with his hand toward me.

“Oh. OK.”

“So, trust me and spill.”

“Well, last time I got those clues that kind of supported the call from the travel agency. So, we went.” I made a large hand movement to show that we went together. I intentionally left out that my mother had given me the clues. I wasn’t sure why.

“And now?”

“Now I had another dream.” I looked down at my feet, although I could barely see them in the darkness.

“When?”

“Just recently since we’ve been back.”

“And what was the clue?”

“Well, it’s not that simple. There isn’t just one. It’s hard to say. But my hands were blue for some reason, and I was pulled underwater.” I swallowed hard, and my eyebrows went up. I wasn’t sure why swallowing felt difficult.