by Cameo Renae
“Sure mom,” I said sadly giving into her delusion. Neither she, nor I, had ever owned a dog. She hung up the phone without saying goodbye.
I felt alone. Entirely alone.
“Why him? Why me? Why God? Why?” I screamed towards heaven. “How could you take him from me?”
It seemed like an eternity, but I eventually cried myself to sleep.
………………..
I woke and sat straight up in my bed. It was pitch black and the world outside seemed to be silent. I wondered if everything I’d gone through was only a dream. I instinctively grabbed the phone to call Michael, pressing 2-talk. When I heard his voice over the answering machine, my heart sunk. I looked to the clock. 2:57 A.M.
Then, it hit me. It hit me hard… like a ton of bricks… bricks that would continuously fall on my already battered heart. Michael wouldn’t answer. He would never answer my calls…ever again!
My stomach twisted in knots that would not easily unfasten. Hot strings of tears flowed steadily from my already sore, puffy eyes. My head felt like a volcano, ready to explode.
A million questions whirled through my mind, like a tornado wreaking havoc on everything it touched.
Why was Michael up at Hatcher’s Pass? There was nothing there except snow covered mountain tops, and a small lodge that was closed for renovations. There were no good explanations that I could think of. Not one. I had that feeling, deep in the pit of my gut, which told me there was a lot more to Michael’s death than they knew about. I knew Michael too well. He would’ve called to let me know why he was running late. Something must have been bothering him so much that he couldn’t call. But I also knew the likelihood of me finding those answers were probably zero-to-none.
I desperately needed some sleep. I didn’t want to be awake anymore, and hated that my mind couldn’t rest, constant spinning, playing scenario after scenario of what might have happened to him.
But my dreams had become exhausting too, and I couldn’t even find rest while I was sleeping. And…I had to work in the morning, even though my entire being cried and begged me not to. I dreaded the thought of going in to work, but I also knew that I had too, regardless.
Old Mrs. Kelley had a doctor’s appointment in the morning, and I was the only one that could cover for her. She owned a small shop down on Knik Goosebay called The Knik-Knack Paddy-Whack Shop, selling homemade crafts among other knick-knacks of which she and some of her close friends would make. She was in her late sixties, a bit eccentric, with whitish-blond hair that curled down to her shoulders. She was a stout woman, with a round, plump face, rosy cheeks, and she always seemed to wear a smile. To me, she looked like Mrs. Claus.
Her husband had passed several years ago and didn’t leave her much, so she got by selling her wares. She wasn’t rich, and barely made enough to keep herself afloat, but even then, she was kind enough to offer me a part-time job. I knew the only reason she hired me was because she knew the situation I had with my mom. She and my mom were friends - once upon a time before the divorce, when she was happy and not drinking. Everyone liked my mom when she wasn’t drinking.
That’s why I couldn’t close her shop. She depended on me.
I sunk deep into the cozy cushions of my couch and flicked to a boring news channel hoping it would put me back to sleep. Eventually, after about an hour or so of sobbing, my eyes became heavy, sending me off into a deep sleep. I hoped I wouldn’t have any more horrible dreams again; just a peaceful, dreamless rest.
But hoping just wasn’t enough.
Chapter 3
I was back in dreamland again, in the middle of a dark wooded area. But this time there was a cabin with the lights on inside. I could barely make out voices in the distance, so I quietly drew closer.
I heard a loud voice which sounded very angry, and a second voice – younger and pleading. Cautiously, I stepped even closer, beneath an opened window, so I could clearly hear their conversation.
“He’s coming. I promise you. I know he’ll bring the money,” wailed the younger, pleading voice.
“He’d better, or you’ll end up like the moose-head mounted up on that wall,” the harsh voice replied in a deep southern drawl.
My heart raced as I fought the indecision of either peeking through the window or minding my own business and walking away. But I quickly realized that I didn’t have a choice. My whole being was drawn towards the window, so against my better judgment, I went closer. The window on the backside of the cabin was cracked open. It was a bit too high, but I spotted an old wooden crate under the back stairs, which I drug out and propped below the window, praying it would hold my weight. I carefully stepped up and very, very slowly inched my head upwards.
Inside, the cabin looked like a hurricane had just ripped through it; a typical bachelor’s pad (x10) on the messy side. An old, tattered, filthy couch had dirty laundry strewn all over it. The rest of the place was buried in empty Dorito bags, used paper-plates, Styrofoam cups, beer bottles, soda cans, candy wrappers, empty popcorn bags, pizza boxes, clumps of dried mud from the bottom of dirty shoes, and crumbs from who- knows-what. Every inch of carpet, or whatever the flooring was, had something thrown or ground into it. It was disgusting. This place should have a big fat CONDEMNED sign attached to it.
I heard the sound of a television but couldn’t see it. It was probably buried too. I heard the harsher voice yelling obscenities, and then heavy footsteps pounded in my direction.
I ducked below the sill until they passed my window, and then slowly lifted my eyes again to see the back of a blonde haired boy. His face was buried in his hands. He paced back and forth, obviously scared.
“I’m tellin’ ya boy. Ya better not be lyin’ to me, ‘cause this’ll be the LAST time ya ever do,” the harsh voice threatened.
“I’m not lying. He said he’d be coming and he always keeps his promises. I know he’ll come.” The boy turned and faced my direction and I finally caught a glimpse of his face.
Holy hell…it was Tyler!
I gasped and ducked below the window as he started making his way towards me. He looked ill and grungy. His blue eyes were sunken within dark circles. It didn’t look like the Tyler I once knew.
Tyler Cross was one of Michael’s best friends growing up. We’d all hung out together in our younger days. He was a bright, good-looking boy with a very promising athletic career. But as he entered high school he distanced himself from all of us, and became involved with new friends… the wrong friends. He started using drugs, becoming withdrawn, and cutting us and his love for sports completely out of his life.
Tyler slowly became a hollow shell of the person he used to be, much like my mother. Michael had confronted him multiple times about his choices, and the future he was giving up, but he never listened.
Tyler’s father was the Chief of Police of our ever growing town of Wasilla. Tyler was his only child; of whom he had high aspirations. He’d recently taken a few weeks off when Tyler was hospitalized from a drug overdose. No one understood why or how he could do that to himself. He had loving parents (who were still together), good friends, and just about everything he’d ever wanted. It was beyond anyone why he chose this destructive path.
Tires speeding down the graveled drive made me jump off the crate and tuck myself behind the backside of the cabin. The car skidded to a stop. I heard a door swing open, slam shut, and the sounds of gravel crunching under feet, heading towards the front of the cabin. I lowered my head, glimpsing only the shoes of this mysterious person.
“Hey Tyler! Tyler! Where are you?” the voice called out.
It felt like the wind had been punched from my gut, and breathing became almost impossible.
Could it be? Could it really be him?
I quickly made my way back to the window and listened carefully.
“Tyler?!” he called out again.
It was! It was Michael!
Michael banged on the front door. I wanted to run to him, jump in his arms, and beg him t
o leave this place, but there was something holding me back.
“Mikey! Come inside!” Tyler yelled from one of the rooms. Michael hated the name Mikey, but Tyler was the only one ever allowed to use that nickname.
I heard the door creak open and Michael call again for Tyler. Footsteps pounded across the cabin floor. I jumped back on the crate and peered through the window. Breathe, I urged myself. I had to see him with my own two eyes.
He was there; standing only a few yards away, but his back was facing me. My heart was overjoyed, but also anguishing at the same time. I longed to be with him. I wanted to run into his arms and never let go.
Then, there was a thumping sound inside one of the rooms. I watched as Michael walked towards it. He stepped inside then immediately stumbled back, jerking both arms into the air. I could only see his profile, but I could easily read the expression on his face. He looked terrified and distressed.
“Michael, you brought the money right? Tell me you brought the money,” Tyler begged, still hidden within the room.
“What the hell did you bring me into Tyler?” Michael scolded.
“Please tell me you brought the money. He just wants the money… then he’ll let me go. He’ll let both of us go. He’ll kill me if he doesn’t get it,” Tyler’s pleading sounding more like whimpering.
“I didn’t bring any money with me,” Michael replied.
“What!?! Michael… y-y-you said… y-y-you told me that you would help me out! Y-y-you said--,” Tyler stuttered through his words.
“Shut up!” The rough voice interrupted, followed by a loud crack and painful moans. He must have hit Tyler.
“Whoa man. You don’t have to do this. We’re all cool here,” Michael said calmly, slowly backing up with his hands still up in front of him. He was so brave despite the circumstances.
“Get up!” the harsh voice yelled.
There was a lot of moving and shuffling out of my view. I fixed my gaze on Michael, wishing, wanting to do something to help him, but I was involuntarily frozen in my place.
Tyler staggered forward into full view. There was a man right behind him; his right arm was wrapped around his neck, while the other held a gun pointed to his head. They inched forward towards Michael. Tyler was grasping the right side of his head, which was wet with blood. I saw Michael sigh, shut his eyes, and slowly shake his head. He knew he was in trouble. If there was any way I could trade places with him, I would…in an instant. But I couldn’t, and it was killing me inside.
The man looked pretty tall, a little taller than Michael who was 6’1”, but he looked like a bum. He was wearing a long, black, trench coat over worn, dirty jeans, and a faded blue t-shirt. On his hands he had black-leather gloves, cut off at the tips, and a black, knit beanie pulled down over his head. His face was thin, badly weathered and wrinkled, with dark, sharp, pointy features. His eyes were sunken into their sockets, and his pupils looked black and evil. He was missing one tooth. Left. Bottom. The rest were yellow and rotted.
“Look what you’ve gotten yourself into Tyler, and now you’ve dragged me into this?” Michael’s voice was strained. “I shouldn’t be here!” He shook his head disapprovingly. He was right! He should be with me!
“I know…,” Tyler said gravely as his eyes closed in regret. “I called you because you’re the only one I could ever count on. I’m sorry.”
“Booo-hooo!” the man sarcastically jested. “Give me the money NOW, or your friend dies!” His voice was dead serious as he spoke to Michael. He cocked back the hammer of the gun and aimed it at Tyler’s temple. The look in his eyes was of pure evil. He looked possessed.
“Okay - okay,” Michael said in a calm, strong voice. “I’ll go get the money and bring it right back. Just don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
“Did I say ya could leave?” the man yelled. “Ya ain’t doin’ nothin’ unless I tell ya, boy! Ya think I’m stupid? I know as soon as ya walk out that door you’ll be callin’ them cops. No way! Me and Tyler here will be joinin’ ya. Now move!” He waved the gun at Michael motioning him to head toward the front door. He pushed Tyler forward with the gun still pointed at his head.
Michael turned to the front door, but then stopped and did something unexpected. He turned back, and his eyes fixed at my window.
Could he see me?
Was he really looking at me?
“Michael!” I screamed, pounding the window. But my voice and efforts were silent. Tears streamed down my face, and everything began to ache inside. His big, brown eyes were filled with fear and despair - a look I’d never witnessed on Michael. And then, he smiled at me… My heart stopped, and then turned and headed out the door.
I shook myself from that horrible dream, trembling, dripping with sweat and tears. Why was this happening to me? Why was I being shown all of this? Is that what happened to Michael? Was Tyler really involved? I didn’t know what to think, whether dream or premonition? I had no idea, and no way of finding out… at least not right now.
I couldn’t sleep. Not after that last dream. My brain was in overdrive, so I decided to brew some coffee and wait for morning to arrive; not expecting the sun to rise and offer a bright morning…It would make its grand appearance around noon.
At 6:01 A.M. the phone rang. I knew it was Emily. She was the only one that knew I woke up at six, but she also knew not to call a minute sooner. I was guessing she’d heard the news. The grapevine in town was strong.
Caller ID told me it was in-fact, Emily.
I likened Emily to a whirlwind. She was petite but athletic, and had short brown hair, greenish-gray eyes, and a dainty face that resembled a fairy. Her only blemish was her very big mouth. Whenever she was around we were occupied. She talked too fast, moved too fast, and always had her nose in other people’s business. Sometimes she was just too exhausting to be around, so I limited my time with her to a few days a week... if even that. I told her she should be checked for A.D.H.D., which she thought was totally hilarious, even though I was totally serious.
I hesitated to pick up the phone but knew she wouldn’t stop calling until I did, so I reluctantly grabbed the receiver and placed it to my ear.
“Hey Em,” I said tiredly.
“Oh my God, Lizzy, you’re okay! You’re okay… aren’t you?” she asked.
“Yes, Em. I’m okay,” I lied.
“Please tell me it’s a lie… that it’s not true… what they’re saying about Michael. They’re saying that he died in a car accident! It’s not true… is it? Were you with him last night? Is he okay?” She rambled off a zillion questions before I could answer one.
“Em!” I scolded. I didn’t feel in any mood to answer any of them, especially because I didn’t have all of the answers. And I didn’t want to dwell on the fact that Michael was gone. I wanted to deal with it in my own way, in my own time. Hearing about his death from others made me feel sick inside. It was solidifying everything I was still trying to deal with.
“Sorry, Liz. I just heard and had to hear it for myself. Kara called me. She said that her boyfriend saw Tyler down at the park. They said he looked pretty busted up. He had a cut on his head, and a black eye, and he was crying saying that Michael had died in some car accident last night.”
“Tyler?” I exaggerated. The cut on his head, the black eye…it was all in my dream.
“Yeah, Tyler Cross. You know… Chief Cross’ son.”
“I know who he is, Em.” I sounded irritated. My mind raced through many different scenarios. The dream I had last night, I couldn’t shake. I wondered if Tyler did have a part in it, and if he knew anything about what had happened to Michael.
“Liz! Are you still there?” Emily blurted.
“Yeah, I’m here,” I said warily.
“Well?” She slurred.
“Yes, it’s true,” I sighed. “Michael’s parents called me last night, and told me that he had passed in an accident, but they were very vague on the details. And no… I wasn’t with him. They said he went off of the
road somewhere near Hatcher’s Pass and ended up in the river. I don’t know any more than that… Just come by the store when I’m done.” I tried to mask the pain, but I knew Emily caught it.
“Lizzy, how can you go to work?” She sounded alarmed.
“I have to. Mrs. Kelly has a doctor’s appointment. Just come by and get me after, okay?”
“Sure Lizzy. I’ll be there,” she said sympathetically.
As soon as I hung up, the phone rang again. Thank God for caller ID. It was another acquaintance from school. I knew I’d be getting calls all morning, so I decided to turn off the ringer and let the answering machine take my messages. Michael’s parents had my cell number if they needed to get in touch with me.
I stumbled about my cabin. My mind was in a fog, preoccupied with the many open-ended questions; questions I had no answers to. I didn’t feel like taking a shower, but the thought of hot water running over my head sounded too tempting. I couldn’t stop thinking of Michael, and every time I did, I wept. I was a mess, and couldn’t seem to pull myself from the quicksand of sadness that surrounded me. I curled up on the floor of my shower and let the hot water pound on top of me. It didn’t make me feel any better, and after a while, I finally mustered up enough strength to drag myself out.
I rummaged through my drawers throwing on jeans, a white t-shirt, and a Wasilla High hoodie. I didn’t feel like putting on any make-up, but as soon as I saw my reflection, I knew I desperately needed some. At least to look somewhat normal.
I dropped Visine into each red eye, dabbed cover-up over every blemished area, and on the tip of my red nose, used some eyeliner, and gathered my hair up into a messy pony-tail. I didn’t want to go out today, and definitely didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to be alone. But what I really wanted to do was find Tyler, and see if he could provide me with any answers.
Chapter 4
The chilled wind bit my face as soon as I stepped out the front door. The thermometer hanging from the side of the cottage read six-degrees. I shivered, pulling the hoodie over my damp hair.