Uncertain (6 page)

“That’s such a good idea.” My heart leapt at the hope that I could possibly get some of my questions answered.

“I’m so glad. Give it a try, soon as you can. Be sure and let me know how it goes. OK?”

I nodded. She was happy with our dress-drying work now and sprayed my dress with her static cling spray.

Right after Dave’s funeral, Kevin clearly didn’t want to leave me alone. I’d protested his wanting to hang out with me for the day, but we watched all three of the movies we’d gotten from the library right after the funeral luncheon.

I was actually surprised Kevin didn’t have to go to work, but he’d taken the day off for the funeral—which was super nice. We went to his house, and he gave me some of his sweats to wear so I could take off my terrible dress, and he gave me a big blanket and opened the recliner for me when I sat down. I smiled at him and curled up into a ball, mindlessly watching our movies: The Hunger Games
(the first one
,
and I
’
d seen it twice already)
,
Creed
, and the latest
Star Wars
.

Every time he got up for some reason and came back to the sofa, Kevin looked unsure as to where he should sit or whether or not he should touch me. So, he kissed me on the head a few times and just went back to his side of the sofa. This continued for a few hours.

“So I got you something and I want to give it to you, but I’m worried that it will make you sad,” he told me between movies two and three.

“It’s OK. I’m already sad.” I smiled. “Low risk.”

“Awww,” he said, unsure of what to do. “Well, OK, let me grab it.” He came back in less than half a minute. He was holding a small, brown bag. “I didn’t wrap it because that seemed a little inappropriate, but I just wanted to give you something that I thought might remind you of Dave.”

I put the ends of the sleeves of the sweatshirt I was wearing directly on my eyes to absorb the tears. I laughed as he looked horrified. “No, no. It’s fine. Go ahead.”

“Well, I knew about the centipede story and centipedes are pretty gross, so I didn’t want to get you one of those. I thought I remembered you liking dragonflies.” He pulled chimes out of the bag. On the top of the chimes, just before the hanging hook was a bluish-green iridescent dragonfly. He held the chimes by the loop at the top and let the cylinders collide, making musical soprano sounds.

“Oh my gosh,” I whispered. I loved this thing.

“I just thought you could think of him whenever the wind blows.” I looked at him as he watched the chimes. What did I ever do to deserve him? He held the chimes out to me, and I took them as I got up and then wrapped my arms around his neck. I wanted to fall asleep. I wanted to sleep exactly like this.

“I can’t imagine anything more perfect,” I told him through my tears. I couldn’t wait for springtime so I could hang it in our tree in the yard.

About a week later, I walked into Harry’s place. I hadn’t been back since I started to tell him about what had happened while I was in California. That day, I’d punked out and left in the middle of the conversation once I had no idea how to explain things without sounding like I was either really crazy or lying.

I stopped just before the nurses’ station. Why did I keep coming to see this man? Why did he matter to me at all? I rolled my eyes at myself. I still had no idea what I’d say if Harry asked any specifics about my trip. I hadn’t come up with any better ways to tell him what had happened.

I’d thought through my dilemma before coming here, but I had quickly annoyed myself and shelved it in my mind. I hoped that Harry would be like most men I knew who would be just fine to let it go. I only came because I wanted to apologize for my rudeness, but I sincerely hoped he wouldn’t ask me anything about the trip.             

Right at that moment, I heard a very familiar baritone voice. I stiffened immediately and turned my head to get a look at him. It was my grampa. He was speaking to the nurse just around the corner at the nurses’ station. I could
not
let him see me here. My heart rate picked up. I took a few deep breaths to calm down and darted my eyes in his direction.

Grampa was already facing me, listening intently to whatever the nurse was telling him. I inched toward the center of the pillar to hide myself better. He seemed to be getting information from the nurse, who was speaking to him in a soothing tone. I didn’t dare to move again, but I also was trying to look casual to the people who walked by.

My grampa would absolutely see me if I walked in either direction, and if I stayed here much longer, someone was bound to ask if I needed help. I was stuck here, though; I had nowhere to go. I thought of dropping to crouch on the floor and pretend that I was tying my shoe for a really long time, but I had boots on without laces.

I puffed a few breaths out the way I would probably do if I were getting ready to sprint. I couldn’t come up with any solution. I tried to stop myself and ask: What really is the big deal if he knows that I come here? Would it be that negative? I didn’t allow time for me to answer myself.

I did squat down, pretending that I’d dropped something, and darted my eyes around while I was down there. I thought about acting as if something of mine had rolled into a room, but a doctor and a couple of almost-doctors or whatever you call them had just stepped into the room across from me, doing rounds. Frustration streaked through me. I heard my grampa’s voice again. He seemed to be asking the nurse some more questions.

I’d been squatting for long enough that I needed to stand back up or I would attract a lot of attention to myself. I stood back up and slowly slid away, keeping the pillar at the center of my back.

A nurse must have gotten back to the nurses’ station while I was on the floor—a dimpled over-cheerful nurse who I’d seen before.

“Hello!” she said to me. My back was to her. I didn’t respond.

“Hello? Did you need something, miss?” she asked a little more loudly when I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to ignore her any longer, so I decided that I should turn around.

“Oh, hi!” she just about shouted. She must have recognized me. Of all the nurses, I get the loudest one on the planet.

I looked up slowly, dreading what I knew would happen. Grampa was going to see me. I slowly looked up, but he wasn’t standing there anymore.

“It’s Rita, right?” the nurse said. “Were you here to see –”

“Hi, honey.” My grampa walked up next to me. I jumped. Had he heard her calling me Rita? I swallowed hard, feeling incredibly stupid. Like a child getting caught for lying. My mouth felt dry. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him right away. But, he stood there until I looked up at him.

“Hi,” I replied.

“I didn’t know you came to visit,” he said, with a strange look on his face.

I nodded. “Sometimes.”

“Ok,” he said, nodding and looking down. “Well, d’ya want me to stay with you?”

“No, I think I’m good. Thanks though.”

“You OK?” he asked in low voice.

I nodded.

“OK. See you at home then.”

Maybe he thought she just got my name wrong, I decided. It wasn’t impossible.

I stood there, daydreaming as he went to the elevator and pressed the button. Nurse Happy had already walked away. I thought about just leaving and not going to see Harry, but I decided that I’d walk in. So my grampa saw me here. What was the big deal, really?

I walked to the other side of the L-shaped nurses’ station and down the hall a bit to Harry’s room. The room was mostly dark, so I started to walk away, figuring he was sleeping. I heard clapping and smiled a little. That was Harry’s way to get my attention. I walked into his room, and he switched on the light over his bed.

I stood in front of his bed, not even sitting down yet. I felt that I’d really messed up, and I didn’t’ want to assume that I was welcome to sit down.

“Hi, Harry,” I said.

He smiled.

“I’m sorry.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I’m sorry about last time. I shouldn’t have left like that. It was rude.”

He picked up his marker board.

‘Thank you,’ he wrote, smiling at me.

I stood there silently with my hands in my pockets. I turned to look out the window at the courtyard. A dusting of snow was on the ground, and the bare trees stood waiting for their own covering of snow. The courtyard was empty. I glanced at the burgundy chair, wondering if I should just sit down. I heard a tapping sound. Harry was tapping the marker board with his marker. It read, ‘Do you want to sit?’

“Oh, I don’t want to keep you.” I felt awkward.

Harry made a wispy sound.

‘From what?’ he wrote on his marker board.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Harry put his hand on his chest to show appreciation.

I sat down hesitantly, silently very concerned over what we would talk about.

‘Any more dreams?’ he wrote. His salt-and-pepper hair was grayer than I remembered from last time. He had on red plaid pajamas.

“A few.” I looked down as I answered and saw Harry nod largely out of the corner of my eye.

‘Did something else happen?’ Harry wrote on his marker board. I tried to avoid his eyes, but I looked at them hard, just by accident. His brow was furrowed, and he seemed to be looking right inside me. How could he know?

I nodded, thinking of Dave. Without warning, I felt as if I was submerged in sadness. I felt my face crumple, and I leaned forward.

Harry tried to get up to come over to me, and in his rush to move, he made a racket with the rolling tray that had been near him. I looked up quickly.

“No, no, don’t get up,” I said in a frog voice, tears streaming down my face. Harry gestured for me to come toward him. He held his arms out for me to hug him. After we’d hugged for a few seconds, he held his hands out for my face—wiping my tears away. I swallowed hard and went back to sit down.

‘Tell me,’ he wrote.

I shook my head. “Won’t help,” I told him.

              Harry gave me a look that let me know that he didn’t believe that.

‘Talking is easy and it helps,’ he wrote

I shook my head. I was pretty sure that talking about paranormal signs and dead neighbors wouldn’t solve a single problem. I let my emotions crash down on me again. If only I’d answered the phone that day. I would’ve answered Dave’s call. I would’ve talked him out of taking the boat. Or I would’ve told him to take me with him. Why didn’t I get the goddamn phone call?

Several minutes passed, and Harry sat patiently. I looked out at the courtyard again and felt more alone than ever as I focused on the snow and the cold and the grayness it brought. A cardinal perched on a branch of a tree closest to the window near me.

“My friend died,” I said without meaning to. “It was an accident. He decided to take his parents’ boat out on his own. He had Down syndrome and called me to check for directions on how to get to the dry dock storage, and I didn’t get the call or maybe I did—I just don’t remember.” I moaned to myself and rearranged myself in my chair.

“Why wouldn’t I have gotten that call?” I said, mostly to myself as I clenched my hands together hard. “He jumped in the lake to get a stupid tarp—like a tarp matters at all—and ended up with pneumonia.” I shook my head, not wanting the next part to be true. “Then he died.” My voice was quiet and sounded far away.

Harry shook his head, but didn’t write anything.

I looked over at Harry’s roommate, sleeping. I was insanely jealous of him at that moment. I wanted to sleep through everything. He made me angry. Jealous and angry. I didn’t want to deal with my life at all. My life sucked so bad. I felt hot tears streaming down my face. I felt them dripping on my jeans, and I didn’t do anything to wipe them away.

Harry stood up and walked over to me. He took my elbow and pulled me up, softly. Then he pushed the pilled burgundy chair across the floor so that it was close to his bed. Then he motioned for me to sit down again. He pulled back the curtain dividing the room to reveal his roommate fully. My chair was between the beds of the two men, one sleeping, the other one Harry. Harry sat down in his bed again and picked up his marker board.

‘I’ll sit with you as long as you like,’ he wrote. He placed his open hand on my back for a second and then lay back on his reclined bed, looking out the window.

Two months had gone by since California. Not a very long time, although things seemed quite different now.

It was officially winter. In true Michigan style, the weather couldn’t make up its mind, so it had felt like early fall up until about the first week in December, and then dumped over half a foot of snow in one night. I insisted on doing the snow blowing and shoveling so that my grampa didn’t become a statistic like those we kept seeing on the news. He didn’t appreciate that very much.

My days were pretty boring, but I didn’t care. To keep Kevin off my back about sleeping too much, I had started to build furniture again. Doing that was kind of fun, actually. I first built a few easy projects from kits, and now I was working on some more complicated things.

I was annoyed with myself for how horribly I had handled Dave dying. I didn’t think I was
that
close to him, but his death seemed to really shock me through and through. I wondered if it was because I was actually there when he took his last breath. I would’ve thought that might have made it better—seeing him find his peace. It really didn’t.

On a Tuesday afternoon, I was standing in the living room that we never used, eyeballing the fireplace mantel. I had been thinking about replacing it with something that had a little more detail work, but I wasn’t sure if it would go with the rest of the house. I thought I could get a nice piece of wood at a place I knew up north in Traverse City. I thought about taking a day trip or an overnight with my grampa and going to pick one out.

The phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Is this Amelia?”

“Yep,” I said, drawing figure 8s on a notebook that sat on the counter.

“This is Felicia from Mundo Hermosa travel.” The people who’d arranged for me to go to California.

My face fell, my untroubled mindset dissolved. I felt a pull down to my feet. Dread washed over me. My mouth became instantly dry.

“Ma’am?”

I hung up the phone. I stood there silently hoping that she wouldn’t call back. I was frozen, waiting for enough time to pass so I could walk away and pretend she had never called.

The piercing sound of the phone ringing again made me jerk. I let it ring three times before I called myself a wuss and picked it up, gripping it unusually tightly.

“Hello.”

“I lost ‘ya there! Sorry about that.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Ma’am?”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Oh, OK. It looks like you’ve got a trip comin’ up! I just need to finalize some details for ‘ya before I get the info over to you.”

I licked my lips. “Where would I be going?” My voice was one note.

“Hmmm…looks like Oaxaca, Mexico! That should be such a lovely trip. I’ve never been to Oaxaca, but I’ve heard such wonderful things about the people and the culture. Not too touristy. It’s on my bucket list, really.”

“OK.” I let out a very deep exhale.

“OK, great. So, let me just take a quick look. It looks like your flight leaves on Thursday, December 14
th
at two in the afternoon. I just need to know your traveling companion.”

I sighed. I was quiet for a moment. Could this be real? Was I unknowingly some kind of secret agent? I almost laughed at how ridiculous that thought was. I had an impulse to hang up again. Maybe the whole situation would just go away. But it probably wouldn’t.

“Does Margaret still work there?” I’d never forget her name from the first call.

“Yes, ma’am, she does.”

“Can I talk with her?” I placed my palm on my forehead.

“She’s on another line, unfortunately.”

I closed my eyes. “I’ll hold.”

I leaned against the cabinets, listening to the insanely annoying hold advertisements about carefree travel. My mouth had gotten so dry that my lips were sticking to my teeth. I was thankful that my grampa wasn’t home. I wasn’t sure how to explain this to him. I had no idea what to do. I wanted to call Kevin, but I really didn’t want to involve him if I didn’t have to. He was working on the details of the sale of the bike shop with his uncle and seemed to be excited about buying the business.

“Good afternoon. Thank you for waiting. This is Margaret. How can I help?” a cheerful voice said.

“Margaret, do you remember me? Amelia Harper?”

“I sure do—the California trip. Was that trip a surprise? I’ve been wondering!”

“Kind of,” I said with a quick eye roll. I leaned on the counter and held my head in my hands.

“Did you two have a good time?”

I ignored her question.

“Margaret, I seem to have a similar situation here, and the other lady there called me about a trip to Mexico. Can you tell me anything about who planned this trip?”

“Same situation? I need a secret admirer like this…” Her voice trailed off.

“Well, I can’t say that I’m crazy happy about it,” I said with force.

“Oh, my mistake,” she began. “Let me pull up the internal notes.” I heard typing and stared at the ceiling. “It looks as though it’s a little like last time. Purchaser was named as Amelia Harper. Walk-in…paid cash. Notes say to call on this date—that would be today—to finalize the second ticket and such.”

“OK.”

“OK?”

“Yes, just don’t do anything. I’ll call you back if I’m going to go.”

“Ok, ma’am, but don’t wait too long. Day after tomorrow, we’ll be in that two-week window where prices really creep up.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yeah, stop selling gift cards to people without knowing who they are.”

“I’ll pass that on to my manager. I’m sorry.”

I hung up the phone and stared at the wall. “I’m not going,” I declared aloud.

I waited several minutes, just standing in the kitchen.

I couldn’t think of a single reason why I’d need to be anywhere. What more could I do?

Impulsively, I picked up my cell phone and dialed Vita, Kevin’s mom.

I thought for sure the call would go to voicemail.  That might be why I had the instant courage to dial her. But she picked up on the second ring.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” I said sort of surprised.

“Somthin’ up?”

“Yes. Sorry I’m bothering you with it.”

“Oh c’mon now, don’t give it another thought.”

I was quiet. I felt stupid for calling.

“Would you prefer to come visit? I’m free after three.”

“I would, yes.”

“All right, sweetheart. As long as you don’t mind, you can come to our house. It’s a rare day—I’ve got the whole place to myself!”

“OK. Thank you.”

“You bet. See you in a little while.”

I pulled up to Vita’s house about two hours later. I could see her peeking through the front door. I’d worried her, I guessed. I parked the truck and walked up to the house. She popped right out.

“Hey, baby, c’mon in.”

“Hi.”

“So, you look like maybe you’ve seen a ghost,” Vita said, a crinkle between her eyebrows.

“It’s probably not all that bad,” I lied.

Vita’s house smelled of the most wonderful aroma of beef, garlic, and tomatoes.

“Smells good in here.”

“I love my slow cooker.” She smiled. “Sit down, sit down.” She put her hand on my back.

I sat in the brown leather chair heavy with wrinkles. Not ugly wrinkles, but cool, lived-in wrinkles. I sat and looked around for a moment, and then the phone call came back to me. What the hell was I going to do? Should I even tell Vita? She might think I was certifiably insane.

Vita had been looking at me. “Wow, OK. So, how ‘bout this,” she said. “Let me make us some hot chocolate and you stay warm.” She picked up a woven green, yellow, and rust-colored, incredibly soft blanket and set it around my shoulders.

I followed Vita to the kitchen, and she motioned for me to sit in the tall, back stools at the island in the center of the kitchen. The five leather-bound nail-head stools were all lined up perfectly. She nabbed a cereal bowl sitting in front of one of the chairs and gave the counter a quick wipe after I sat down.

“I love your house,” I told her. “It’s so cozy.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’m both Southern and Italian, the two cultures with the gaudiest tastes on the planet. I could’ve loaded this place up with gold and floral and knickknacks galore. Thankfully, I’m a minimalist, and I hate to dust. I appreciate the compliment.”

Vita had a tea kettle already on the stove. She picked it up, poured out the water that was in it, refilled it, and set it on the gas flame. Then she grabbed two brightly colored mugs and set them down. Something about the way she moved made me want to watch her. I wished I could put her in a snow globe and look as often as I wanted to. She pulled out two forks and set them on the counter.

Her hair was wavy and messy and up in a folded ponytail. She wore U of M sweatpants and a plaid button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She had on thick gray socks and she used them to slide across the floor as she moved around the kitchen. She dragged one of the stools over to the other side of the counter so we could talk.

“Lay it on me, sweetheart. You talk whenever you want to,” she said as she sat down in the stool she’d moved over.

“I don’t know where to start. I don’t know…what you know.”

“Kevin told you he discussed with me what happened in California, right?”

I nodded.

“OK, but you aren’t sure what kind of detail I know?”

I nodded.

“Would you like me to tell you what I know?”

I looked up at her and nodded.

“Well now, let’s see. In California, you got pains and had visions and knew where to go to help a young woman. Then you delivered her baby. Then, you had incredible fighting skills. Oh, wait, you delivered the baby after you fought some gangster. And then you had incredible strength.” She ended with a wistful sound to her voice.

I thought she sounded as though she didn’t believe it.

The teakettle made simmering noises and Vita got up and grabbed it. “I just hate when mine is too hot. Are you OK with it like this?”

“Sure.” I didn’t care in the least what the hot chocolate was like.

“OK. Did I get the events right?” she asked, pouring the water into the cups.

I swallowed hard. I felt foolish.

“It seems as if you don’t believe what happened.” I heard a small catch in my voice. I hoped she didn’t notice.

“I do, sweetheart. I truly do. I think what you’re picking up on in my inflection and tone is worry about my boy and worry for you in that kind of situation. That’s all it is. I promise.” She touched me on my chin and then picked up the fork and stirred the hot chocolate in her cup.

“It’s unbelievable, Mel, it really is. But that’s not to say that I don’t believe it. I just don’t understand it. At all.” She took a sip. “And let me tell you, I drilled Kevin on the details. Drilled him.” She shook her head. “When y’all were there, I was out of my mind. I was on the verge of hiring a private investigator to watch out for you. To be sure you were OK.”

She stirred her cup again. “On another day I was gettin’ ready to fly out there to be with you.” She sighed and shook her head. “You know, I think there’s a reason that we don’t have a word for ‘adult child.’”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we don’t have a word to describe grown children. I say ‘I have three children who are grown. I don’t have a real way to say it. And I think the reason is because you never feel that they aren’t your babies. I acknowledge that they’re men, but the difference in age between a parent and a child is a constant—so they always seem to be your babies.”

I felt guilty that she had worried about Kevin when we went to California. “I would never have let Kevin get hurt. I had no idea when we went that we’d be involved in anything dangerous.”

“Oh, I know, baby. I know. You’re a tremendous friend to him, and I’m very grateful for that.” She grabbed my hand across the countertop and shook it a little, smiling in an understanding way.

“I got another call from the same travel agency,” I blurted out.

“Noooo—the same one that called you for the California trip?” she asked, sitting up straighter.

I nodded.

“When?” she asked.

“Just before I spoke to you today.”

“Well, what did they tell you?”

“Just that I have tickets to Mexico this time.”

“Mexico.” She looked off into the distance. “Did they say anything else?”

“Just that it’s the same setup. Tickets are paid for. Just calling to finalize details.”

“When?”

“About two weeks away.”

Vita’s voice was more lively now. “What are you going to do? Have you talked to your grampa?”