by Rose Garcia
***
I anxiously waited for Trent to call, and for Farrell to show up later that night. To pass the time, I studied my room. I had a big window with an arched top. The moon peeked through the top branches of the oak tree outside. My light blue walls were still bare, but I planned to leave them like that. Putting up things would only mark my territory, and that was the last thing I wanted to do because it didn’t fit into my plan of moving right after graduation. Besides, this place wasn’t home to me anyway.
Finally, at just past eleven, Farrell showed up at my open door.
"Hey," he said. His hair was wet from his shower, and his t-shirt clung to his still damp body. I tried my best not to stare at his chest, and instead focused on his face. Maybe having him come to my room was a bad idea.
"Come in," I said. A nervous flutter entered my stomach as he took a seat on the oversized chair in the corner. I grabbed the blanket at the foot of my bed, and wrapped it around my shoulders. Neither of us spoke for a while. "So how was your first day at the school?" I asked, recalling the look on his face when he saw me walking with Trent.
"Fine," he said. "And it looks like we don’t have any classes together."
"Yeah, I know."
He leaned forward. "So do you want to talk? Tell me about your dream maybe?"
Instead of telling him about my dream, something else popped in my mind—Jan. "Do you know anything about numerology and soul lives?"
I half-expected him to laugh or say something funny, but he didn’t. Instead, he studied me. His steady and quiet personality told me he’d give me some sort of practical answer that would make me feel better. At least, that’s what I hoped for.
"Well, as I understand it, there are many different theories on what happens when you die. As far as numerology goes, there is a theory that everyone has nine soul lives. Every time you come back you should be one step closer to fulfilling your purpose—or something like that. Why do you ask?"
"Infiniti took me to this house down the street. Jan, one of our neighbors. She used a mathematical formula to figure out our soul lives. I’m a nine."
"What does it mean to be a nine?"
"It means I have no more time. This is my final life: life number nine." I thought I detected a hint of vanilla as Jan's words repeated in my head. "You better get it right this time." I studied Farrell's face and waited for him to tell me I was nuts.
He didn't say that. But he did say briskly, "Dominique, you can’t worry about something you don’t know. Numerology is just a theory. All we can do is make the most of what we’ve got and live for today, not tomorrow."
"You’re right. It's just I’m just not liking it here in Houston, I guess. It's like I don't belong. Even my friends back home have moved on without me. And, well, just so you know, I might even be going a little crazy," I said with a pitiful laugh, surprised at how open I was being.
He ran his fingers through his hair. "Dominique, you’re stronger than you know. And even though we just...met...I can tell that you’re definitely not crazy."
I didn’t feel very strong, but the calm and confident tone of his voice strengthened me. "Thanks, Farrell."
He was about to leave when I stopped him. "You know, I haven’t been very friendly."
He sat back down. "What do you mean?"
I wanted to know if maybe we had met before, or if he had seen me somewhere. There had to be a reason why I thought I knew him. "Well, I haven’t even asked you about yourself. I mean, I’m stuck in this city against my will, and now you’re here stuck in this house with a lunatic." I couldn’t help but wonder if he was just as miserable as me.
"We already established that you’re not crazy, right?"
"Right," I mumbled, but not believing it.
"And as for being here, it’s okay. My parents travel a lot for work, so I’m used to it."
"So they’re geologists like my mom and dad?"
"Yeah, and they’re off on an expedition somewhere in Europe."
My parents had never both left me for one of their expeditions, though my dad did travel a lot. I still found it hard to believe that one of his projects led us to Houston. But here we were.
"So you’re not from Houston either?"
"I guess you could say, with all my family travels, I’m from everywhere. Now I’m here."
How strange to be from everywhere. But then again, Farrell did seem different. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was just worldly. He got up and lingered for a moment at my door. "Well, good night," he said. "If you need anything, just call out."
They say people have multiple dreams when they sleep, but if so, I never remember mine. But when Farrell left my room and I finally dozed off, I had dreams that I remembered. They were flooded with him. And each time I dreamed of him, he said the same thing. "I’m here for you."