Uncertain (7 page)

I shook my head.

“What about Kevin?”

“Not yet.”

She put a hand up as if she had no answers and then set it under her chin. “So you only know that nothing else has happened, but you got this call. Again. Have you still been having weird dreams?”

“Some.”

She nodded in understanding. “Does it seem related?”

“I don’t know.” I felt frustrated and my words didn’t hide my emotion.

“What are you gonna do?” she asked me gently, leaning on the counter with her elbows.

I shook my head and then shrugged.

“I can’t even think what to ask you. You have so little information. I just can’t understand it…” She trailed off. “I’m no help,” she said, sitting up straight again.

I heard a buzzing. “Is that your phone?” I asked.

“Oh, let me see.”

She picked up the phone and put it down again and used her free hand to cover her mouth.

“Good gravy. It’s Layla.” She laughed, out of disbelief it seemed like. She shook her head and put her fingers on her lips, waiting. She didn’t answer the call, and the phone started buzzing again. She laughed to herself and answered.

“OK, Layla.” She stood with her hand on her hip. “Yes, she’s here,” she said, looking at me. “OK.” She stared at the floor and kicked her foot around. “Well, I guess it helps. Layla, my love, are you going to be calling me for any ordinary conversations at all anymore, or is this it?” She laughed again. “Fine. Bye.”

“Same Layla? From the restaurant last time?”

“Yes, it was.”

“What did she say?”

“Same message. As last time, really. She said, ‘she’s protected.’” Vita shook her head and came back and sat down. “This is just beyond me, Mel. It’s simply beyond me.”

I felt sad and overwhelmed for a few seconds, but then really I was just pissed. What the hell was I supposed to be doing about all of this?

“What should I do?” I croaked out what sounded like a demand for an answer.

“You have to do whatever you think is best,” Vita said quietly. “I just can’t answer for you.” Then she paused. “However, sometimes the best thing to do is nothing at all. Give yourself a little time to think.”

I was all in on the plan for not doing anything. I really liked that plan.

My grampa had been continually astounded at how many coffee shops have sprung up over the last decade. The weird part was that he’d never set foot in one. Since I’d moved in with him, he’d seen me bringing home paper coffee cups from different places every so often.

“Grampa?” I said, walking up to him as he sat on the brown plaid sofa reading the Detroit Free Press. He had a gray cardigan and jeans on, and as always, blindingly white socks.

“Yeah, hon?” he said, folding up the paper and looking over at me.

“Let’s go get a coffee.”

“Got coffee right here,” he said, nodding to his cup sitting properly on the nautical table on a coaster. “Want some? I got plenty.” He started to get up and get me a cup.

“No, no.” He stopped and looked at me over his reading glasses. “At a coffee shop,” I said cheerfully. “You can finally check one out.” I was surprised at how enthusiastic I sounded, given that I was intent on ignoring the herd of elephants in my mind regarding the call about the Mexico trip. I was amused that a coffee shop visit could be enough to distract me.

“I want to buy you a coffee at a coffee shop.”

“Do ‘ya now?” He smiled, taking off his glasses.

“I do!”

“OK, then.” He seemed apprehensive, but got up. “Let me just turn off some things, and we can go.”

A few minutes later, we pulled up at the closest coffee shop and went inside. We stood back from the line so we could have time to look over the menu.

“What kind do you want?”

“What do you mean? Just coffee.” He looked sort of overwhelmed as he stood with his hands in his coat pockets, wearing his captain’s hat.

“Well, they have other kinds.”

“Like with milk and sugar?”

I laughed. “Yeah, but also fancy ones.” I read him a few things from the menu.

“Oh, I’m not sure.”

“We can get you normal coffee if you want, or you can try something different?”

“What do you usually get?” he asked in his gravelly voice.

“Normal coffee.” I laughed.

“That’s my girl.” He laughed his raspy giggle.

“Well, I’ll try something new if you will,” I told him.

“Ok, well then, surprise me.” He smiled.

We stepped up to the line. “We’ll get what Kevin gets.”

My grampa pointed discreetly to the people behind the counter. “All these people just to make the coffee?”

I laughed. “Yeah.”

“You know, coffee shops when I was your age were a little different.”

“You had coffee shops?”

“Surely. They were just less ritzy. An’ you could get some eggs, typically.”

“Well, you can get some stuff like that here.” I pointed to the egg sandwiches.

“Well, I meant eggs directly on a plate. With ketchup.”

“Gross.”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it,” he said, with a higher tone to his voice. He nudged me with his elbow. I laughed a little.

I ordered us two vanilla lattes. My grampa was astounded by the price. I felt sort of proud to pay for it. Which made me feel like a little kid. We stood at the end of the counter, waiting. One of the baristas was talking to the other about a vacation they had coming up.

“When is the big trip?” the first one said.

“Saturday, baby! I’ll be Mexico bound in less than a week.”

I looked up, and my stomach dropped. No way, I thought. No way it could be related.

I shook my head at my silly thought. Relax… I told myself. I took a deep breath.

“Vanilla latte!” the barista called out.

I stepped up. She looked at me, still holding my cup. “Have you ever been to Mexico?” She had short brown hair in a pixie cut with a bandana over the top, and she appeared artificially serious as she looked at me.

“No,” I answered sternly.

“You should go…” She smiled. “It’s amazing there.”

I didn’t respond. I just waited for her to stop palming my order. Then I grabbed the cup from her and handed it to my grampa. He stood a few steps back, seeming slightly uncomfortable. He was gazing at the sofas by the window and took his hand out of his pocket to take the coffee. “Thank ‘ya.

“Vanilla latte, Mel!” she called out again.

“That one is for me too,” I told her.

“Fabulous!” she fake whispered and cupped her hand on the side of her mouth. “I wrote a secret message for you.” She spun the cup to show me what she’d written. ‘Mel, Mexico Rocks.’

My face felt hot. I didn’t return her smile. I took the cup and walked out with my grampa trailing behind me.

I tried to shake it off. It might have been a coincidence.

“Well, the coffee makers have a lot of personality,” he said, getting in the truck.

“They sure do.”

“I’m not sure why people need all that hubbub just to get a coffee.”

I took a deep breath, trying to bring my head back. I looked over at my grampa who held the coffee away from himself as though it were a baby with a wet diaper.

“Have you had any yet?” I asked him.

“Na chet,” he answered. He spun the cup to make sure the hole was facing him. He took a sip and his eyes got wide. “My word, it’s like dessert!”

I laughed. He took another sip immediately, looking almost guilty for liking it.

“Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you, honey,” he said, using his finger to wipe below his lower lip, “a lady called for you from a travel agency.”

My stomach clenched.

“I was surprised, seeing as how you just got back. You got the travel bug?”

I didn’t know how to answer. “I don’t know.” I pulled the truck out and turned onto the main road.

“Well, I jotted down her number on the fridge for you.”

“OK,” I said.

“Mexico, she said?”

I didn’t answer. I pretended to be distracted by traffic, but really I was wigging and I didn’t know exactly what to say.

“Well, I have your passport in the fire safe if you need it.”

I was slightly annoyed that he seemed so totally fine with the idea. “I have a passport?” I asked him.

“Ya sure do. I think your mother applied for it—you know, on your behalf—when you graduated from high school. Do you remember?”

“Kind of.” A wave of sadness went through me. I remembered my mom having plans for us to travel internationally every few years. She wanted to see the world, but it never worked out. Now that I thought about it, I remembered that the passport had been part of my high school graduation present. I had only used it to get across the Canadian border one weekend. I remembered my mom trying to get the border guard to stamp the passport so I’d have at least one stamp. Even though Canada was the lamest stamp I could have, because it was only about half-an-hour away from our house. I couldn’t remember if the guard had actually stamped it.

I thought back to that trip to Canada. We had gone to Little Italy in Windsor. My dad had gone with us too. We went to the bakery and to several shops and then had lunch. My trip to the not-so-foreign country of Canada had lasted for about three-and-a-half hours total.

A few minutes later, when my grampa and I got home, I went for a walk before going back into the house. It was freezing out, and I didn’t care. At the end of the street was a gated area for residents only where we could access the lake. I opened the gate and walked in, sitting at the picnic table. I looked out at the lake. It was frozen and the landscape looked endless, gray, and meaningless. So different than what it looked like in the summertime. I spotted an ice fisherman and saw a guy driving his truck on the ice. I took a sip of my coffee to try to keep warm, although it was nearly gone.

My phone rang. It was Kevin.

“Hi.”

“Hey, what ‘cha doin’?

“Just went for a walk,” I told him.

“Mel, it’s freezing out.”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling my butt starting to numb from the picnic table I was sitting on.

“Somethin’ bothering you?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t feel like telling him ‘no.’ But, I didn’t really want to explain, either. I just had to ignore the signs. I just had to ignore them until they passed. They would pass. They
had
to.

“Mel?”

“Sorry, I’m here.”

“Wanna see a movie?”

“YES,” I said. That was the best idea. “Yes. I don’t even care what movie.”

“OK. I thought maybe after, we could look at my basement where I want to put the bar.”

“Sounds great.”

We saw a comedy. It was funny enough that I completely forgot about my worries for a short time. I laughed like crazy. Once the movie ended, we sat for a few minutes after the lights came on, waiting for the theater to clear.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I figured Kevin was being goofy, but when I turned to look at him, he was bent over picking up the popcorn tub on the floor. Suddenly, I felt someone close to me, on my other side. I rapidly turned my head to see who was there and discovered an older man in an overcoat. His face was weathered but kind looking. His eyes were an icy blue, and overgrown, gray eyebrows hung over them. He made eerie eye contact with me.

“You have to go. You know that, right?” He held my eyes for a long second. Just long enough for my stomach to fall as if I had just taken the first hill on a giant rollercoaster. Then he patted my shoulder twice and walked away down the row of seats—then down the steps of the theater, his aged, beige overcoat parting at the back as he went. I watched him walk away until I couldn’t see him anymore.

“Who was that?” Kevin asked, behind me.

“I have no idea.”

“What did he say?”

“I dunno,” I mumbled as I stood up. I tried to blow it off. I asked Kevin to drop me at home—told him I’d look at his bar plans another time.

A week passed. Then early on a Friday morning, my phone alerted me to an email received. I’d been sent travel plans for the Monday after. Travel plans that I would be ignoring. When I saw the email, I laughed in a weird way. I almost freaked myself out.

Over the weekend, I had forgotten about it. I’d gone to Kevin’s to work on his basement bar plans. We went out and bought all the materials, and I brought my tools over to start construction.

Kevin and I worked well together. He let me take the lead, and I was patient with him because he wanted to learn how to make all the cuts and understand why I chose to do it that way. He didn’t like the tedium of sanding too much, so he did some cleaning and got us food while I did the sanding.

Between the work on Friday night and the work on Saturday, we had the bar built and sanded, ready for the polyurethane.

I slept in his spare bedroom on Saturday night after having a few drinks to celebrate the bar’s near completion. I got up around 10 on Sunday morning and walked into the kitchen. Kevin was already sitting at the table, drinking some coffee. He got up to get me a cup.

“Good morning,” I said. “Been up long?”

“Mornin’. No, only about 10 minutes.” I sat down. I loved that he didn’t care if I saw him in the morning—his hair a total wreck.

“Want some eggs?” he asked.

“I’ll start with this, but maybe in a bit,” I said, taking the cup from him.

“Hey, you going anywhere?” he asked. My eyes darted up to look at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Your phone buzzed,” he said, pointing to my phone on the table. “I looked at it out of habit. It said you could check in for your flight tomorrow.”

“It did?”

He nodded. His expression told me he thought I might be angry that he’d ‘found me out.’ I picked up my phone and opened the email. Sure enough, it was confirmation for a flight at 9 a.m. the morning after.

I put my face in my hands. Kevin was quiet.

“What’s up?” he asked gently.

“This is
such
bullshit,” I said.

“What is? What’s going on?” he urged.

“Did your mom tell you that I talked with her?”

Kevin sat back. “No, when did you talk with my
mom
?”

“I got a call from the same travel agency. Same one as last time,” I said, hating the words as they left me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’ve got so much going on, Kevin. With your uncle and the bike shop. I didn’t want to call you with drama.”

“This is a little more serious than drama, don’t you think?”

“I just don’t want you to be bothered with it.” I felt irritated.

“Mel, I’ve been trying to talk with you for weeks. I care about this. I care about what’s happening in your life.”

I felt bad that I hadn’t told him. I had to allow myself to trust him enough to talk. “All right, ask me anything.”

Over the next half-hour, I caught Kevin up with the calls from the travel agency, the call at his mom’s from Layla, and the man at the theater.

He was quiet for a minute or so. “If you had told me this like three months ago, I would’ve thought it was all just coincidence. You know?”

“Yeah,”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I’m not going.”

“OK.” He nodded, hunched over the table. “Have you given any thought as to what this could be about?”

“No,” I answered quickly.

“Why?” he asked.

“My thing is, if they wanted to provide detail, they would provide detail. They’d send an invitation. Mel Harper, the honor of your presence is requested at blah blah blah.  For this thing we need you to do.” He was nodding slowly. “I’m just saying that I’m not going to murky up my mind for a bunch of speculation.”

“I totally understand,” he said. But, I could tell that he was deeply curious.

I wasn’t quite as curious.

I was finally feeling happy with my decision not to go. Vita had given me a sandwich bag stuffed with packets of chamomile tea to calm me before I went to bed. I made myself a cup just before bed that Sunday night. I was feeling confident about my decision and feeling fancy for drinking tea.

I said goodnight to my grampa after giving him a cup of tea too and went up to bed.

I began to dream. In my dream, I sat on the middle of my bed at the house where I grew up. I slowly looked around the room at all my things. The walls were pale purple. My white furniture was there, exactly as I remembered, with two bookshelves filled with paperback books.

“Hello.”

I looked over and saw Dave sitting in a chair in the corner. My heart leapt. He smiled.

“Can you actually see me? Wait—don’t talk, Melia. Don’t do it. I need to say some stuff, and I’ve been trying for weeks. I don’t want you to pull yourself from sleeping.”

He sat with his ankle resting on top of the opposite knee. His hair was messy, and he wore a blue polo shirt and shorts. He was barefoot.

“I know it’s weird, ‘cause I died, right? Please don’t be weird about it. I know you sang to me, and I wasn’t afraid, Melia.” He smiled again. I felt intensely sad. “Stop it. I came to tell you, you
have
to go. To Mexico, you have to go. They need you. They really, really need you. It’s really, really important.”

I just kept looking at him.

“I know it’s crazy, all of this. So crazy. But, I was right. You’re special, Melia. You really are.”

He stopped and looked over at the wall.

“Your mom is telling me that you’ll think that you’re controlling me and making me say these things. You’re not. We’ll be there, and we’ll look after you. Now that I’m here, I get to help, too. You just have to trust us. Will you?”

I nodded.

“OK, Melia. You’re very brave and also awesome. I am way proud of you and so is everyone here. You’re like a celebrity. So, be cool and try to just go with the flow. I have to go now so you can sleep better. See you later.”

I woke up to my phone buzzing. I had an email confirmation for a different flight that left on Tuesday morning. I felt uneasy. I still wanted to know—why me? I sat up in my bed and ruffled my hair, then crossed my arms to rest on my bent knees.

In a minute, I got up and put on a sweatshirt and walked down the stairs, creaking the seventh step. My grampa was sitting at the coffee table with newspaper spread out on it, working on a radio-controlled boat he had.

“Hi, honey. How’d ya sleep?”

“Good.” I wasn’t sure how to tell him but I figured I wasn’t going to have time to decide since the flight left in less than 24 hours. I felt nervous. I kept reminding myself that my mother had told me in a dream she would help with my grampa.  I guessed that was because he ordinarily never would’ve been so A-OK with me traveling all over the place.

“Grampa?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna take a quick trip again.”

“Where ‘ya headed?”

“Mexico.”

“OK. Just leave me your itinerary.” He barely looked at me. I felt slightly sad--as though he didn’t care. But as I turned and walked away, I talked myself out of it. He for sure cared. This was just a strange situation—heavy on the strange.

I thought back to when I was in the bathroom stall in California. I could choose not to ‘listen.’ At that time, I’d felt like a passenger in my own body. I could ignore it.

I stopped for a second to test the idea of not going to Mexico again. Could I decide not to?

I pretended for a minute that I’d decided not to go. Nothing felt strange, no weird feelings—so I figured I still truly had an option.
It was still my life
.

I sat down at my computer and printed the email itinerary. I also checked in for the flight while I sat there. I felt robotic as I clicked the buttons. This was bizarre. Another flight I didn’t pay for. It occurred to me just then that the last time I’d done this, I wasn’t alone. I’d checked in for both me and Kevin. I blinked back the worry, realizing that I was going on my first foreign-country trip alone. My first plane trip alone. And I was going because my dead neighbor told me to in a dream. I shook my head and stood up. I felt like a total head case.

I took the paper ticket off the printer and flicked it back and forth on my chin, trying to decide if I should tell Kevin or simply go and not mention it. I thought about just going. According to my itinerary, I’d be back in four days. It was possible that I’d go four days without talking with him if I was here. I played out the sequence in my head and imagined his calling my grampa and asking where I was and my grampa would tell him Mexico. That wouldn’t go well.

I walked back to the family room and handed my grampa the itinerary and went back upstairs to call Kevin.

“Tomorrow? Is this right?” my grampa called to me as I walked away.

“Yeah. Tomorrow,” I answered, turning to face him.

My grampa stood up. “Amelia, you be sure to be careful there. It’s a different place—real nice people, I hear. But, it’s not what you’re used to. Promise me that you’ll be careful?”

“I promise.” I nodded to reassure him. I felt as though I were talking to an phony grampa. He wouldn’t be this cool with it normally, and I knew that. So I made the conversation brief and went upstairs.

I picked up the phone and called Kevin.

“Hey,” he said, answering.

“Hey. So, I think I’m going to go.”

“Go where?”

“Mexico.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“What changed?”

“Another dream.” I pictured Dave talking to me, and my eyes welled up with tears. I cleared my throat and looked up to make the emotion go away.

“The dream told you to go to Mexico?” he said quietly.

It sounded pretty stupid when someone summed it up like that.

“Yeah.” I wanted to explain more but I could tell by his tone that someone else was there.

“When?” he asked.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Mel…” He sighed. “Let me come with you. I don’t think you should go alone.”

I wanted to tell him yes, but he had responsibilities here. And I didn’t want to be one of those friends who takes more than they give.

“Nah. I’m fine. I’ll be back super fast. You won’t even know I’m gone.”

There was a long pause and I heard some background noise.

“Are you at work?” I asked him.

“Yeah, I have to go. When is the flight?”

“Tomorrow morning. Ten a.m.”

“That’s so soon.”

“Yep, I already got the confirmation and everything.”

“Looks legitimate?” he asked.

“Yeah. Directly from the airline.”

“Will you do me a favor, and just call the airline to confirm the ticket? So I don’t worry that it’s some email hoax?”

“OK.”

“Can I drive you to the airport?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I want to—can I?”

“I guess.”

“Pick you up at 7:30 tomorrow morning?”

“OK. Thanks.”

I slept for most of the day, hoping to dream some more. Hoping to get more questions answered. No dreams. Nothing at all.

I got up at 6:30 the next morning. I was ready by 7:15 and waited for Kevin. My grampa looked a little uneasy about my leaving and insisted that I take some money that he gave me. When Kevin pulled up, I said goodbye to my grampa and ran out of the house.

We drove to the airport in near silence, apart from some small talk. I was feeling sweaty and worried, and I was annoyed with myself for it. I was trying to get out of my own head.

“Are you OK?” Kevin asked when we near the airport.

“I’m not scared,” I blurted out. Then I felt dumb for saying that. Clearly, I was.

“Bravery is feeling the fear and deciding to go ahead anyway,” he said quietly. I looked out the window.

We pulled up into the airport area.

“Just take this exit and you can drop me off right at the departing international flights,” I told him, pointing at the signs.

He drove past the turn-off.

“Where are you going.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why?” I sounded half-annoyed, half-confused. What the hell?

“Because I’m coming, too.” He smiled mischievously.

“What? Kevin… Why?”

“I’ve been dying to tell you—I can’t believe I was able to keep quiet about it. I got an email confirmation in my own name for this flight, too. I wanted to surprise you, hoping that you’d be happy that you won’t be alone.”

I sighed in relief. “I am happy.” I smiled, which surprised me. “Aren’t you wondering about why or who sent you an email confirmation?”