Dreaming of Antigone

by Robin Bridges

  I let him lead me through the kitchen all the way to the back of the restaurant, into a tiny cramped office. He closes the door and pulls a T-shirt from the shelf. “Here. It might be a little large, but it should keep you dry until you get home.”

  He places the T-shirt in my hand and I stare at him, until he finally blushes and turns around.

  I hold out the shirt to read the front. It’s the same black Indigo Dragon shirt he’s wearing. “Does this mean I have to wash dishes to pay for the soup?” I ask.

  He starts to turn back around just as I pull my wet shirt off. I’m too stunned to yell at him. And too frightened by the look in his eyes.

  I back up against the door, in nothing but a very tight black tank top. Alex takes a step toward me. I’m afraid he’s going to kiss me. I’m terrified he won’t.

  I shiver, and even though I think it’s from passion, it’s probably because I’m freezing to death. He looks down and frowns, his hands sliding down my arms, and I know he can feel the goose bumps.

  I’m losing him. Desperate, I reach for him. I pull his head down to mine so I can kiss him before he can start thinking again. Before he can talk himself out of kissing me.

  Before I can talk myself out of kissing him.

  It works. His hands slide down to my waist and pull me against him. His lips meet mine gently at first, and then grow bolder, almost hungry. I want my kiss to let him know it’s okay. It’s all going to be all right. But I don’t know how to kiss like that. And even if I did, I don’t know if he would understand.

  When Alex pulls back, he presses his lips against my forehead. “What are we doing?” he whispers against my skin.

  I ignore the sarcastic answer that pops into my head, Solving polynomial equations, what do you think? and sigh instead. “I don’t know,” I whisper finally.

  He leans down, and I think he’s going to kiss me again, when there is a knock on the door. “Alex? What are you doing in there? I need you out front!” His mother. Hell.

  Alex exhales and rubs a hand through his hair. “Be right there.” He picks up the Indigo T-shirt that has fallen on the floor in the excitement. He leans over and whispers in my ear, “Please put this on before I get into trouble.”

  My skin tingles. “Thank you,” I whisper back, trying to suppress a smile. “I would hate for you to get into trouble.” I pull the shirt over my head. “There.” I find my own soup-stained shirt on the floor where I’d dropped it.

  Alex stares at me and frowns. “You’ll still be cold. Here, take this.” He grabs his olive-green army surplus jacket, which is draped around the back of a chair.

  I’m silent as he helps me into his jacket, suddenly a little dizzy as I’m wrapped in his scent. I can’t help but sniff one of the cuffs. Gain and fresh-baked bread.

  Alex gives me a look. “Can we talk later? I have to get back to work before I get fired, but I . . . we . . . I want to talk.”

  I nod. Would his moms really fire him?

  “Great. I get off at ten. If that’s not too late.”

  I finally find my voice. “I’ll be up.”

  “Good. Great.” He opens the door and looks out for his moms. No one is in sight, so I hurry back out to the front, where I grab my book bag and purse. Only Hank is still sitting in our booth. Trista must be in the bathroom with Natalie.

  “Need a ride home?” Hank asks me. He’s staring at his phone, but it’s sweet of him to offer.

  Please don’t say anything about Alex’s jacket. “No, I’d like to walk. But thanks. Tell Tris and Natalie I’ll talk to them tomorrow?”

  “Will do.”

  “Thanks.” I leave as fast as I can, not bothering to look around for Alex. I don’t want to see him right now. I definitely don’t want to see either of his moms right now. All I want right now is to get out of here and get some fresh air. I need to think.

  CHAPTER 19

  I walk slowly, taking a quieter street off Milledge, with less traffic. I don’t want to have to pay too much attention to where I’m going. I want to remember every second of Alex’s kiss. My kiss. I did kiss him first, after all, and oh my God, what does he think of me now? He seemed to enjoy it, but what if he was just being nice?

  That is probably what he wants to talk about. I’m certain he didn’t appreciate being mauled by the girl with epilepsy and wants to make sure it never happens again. Maybe I’m a horrible kisser, and it will give him nightmares. I don’t want to be the cause of any nightmares. Or of scarring someone for life.

  But I am a terrible person. He was my twin sister’s boyfriend. He’s not ready for dating again. I took advantage of him and kissed him because I wanted to. I wanted him. And that is one of the most selfish things I’ve ever done.

  Before I realize it, I’m already turning on to Azalea Cove, and before long, I see our driveway. Mom’s car is gone. She must still be at the office. I dig my key from the bottom of my purse and unlock the door.

  Sophie is waiting for me, but with less than her normal tail wagging and enthusiastic jumping around. “I love you too,” I say, reaching down to scratch her ears. She follows me through the kitchen to the back door, where I let her out into the yard.

  I grab a can of Diet Coke from the fridge and follow her outside. I can see that Mom has been digging in the flower beds today, probably trying to distract herself from everything going on with Craig. The wheelbarrow has been left out, along with a stack of huge bags of mulch and compost. Looks like she only got as far as weeding out the dead plants from last year. The sprayer that she uses to fumigate the yard for fleas every spring is lying on the ground. I pick it up and set it on the wheelbarrow.

  She has never been content to keep just the front yard looking nice. The backyard has always looked like a magazine cover too. Sweeping beds full of annuals and flowering shrubs. A patch of white heavily scented flowers surrounding a gazebo in the back corner for a moon garden. Even the patio has perfectly arranged large pots of flowers and a few palm trees to sit under.

  Sophie brings me an old favorite toy, her blue squeaky. I toss it across the yard for her to chase.

  She brings it back, slowly this time, as I let her lie down at my feet to catch her breath. “Good girl,” I say, letting her keep the squeaky for a while.

  But she’s not ready to go back inside when I get up.

  She looks at me and lays her head back down on top of her paws.

  “Sophie?”

  Her only answer is a soft whimper.

  My heart starts to pound as I slip into panic mode. She’s almost as old as I am. And she’s been moving much more slowly over the years, but I’m not ready to give her up just yet.

  “Sophie!” I cry, dropping to my knees beside her.

  She answers by coughing up a large amount of greenish foam. I get up and rush inside to call Mom. If Sophie has eaten something she shouldn’t have, she’ll need to go to the vet. When I was ten, she ate a bouquet of daisies, along with the packet of water purifier that came with it. She threw up green stuff just like this.

  The phone is on the counter in the kitchen. I dial Mom’s office and then her cell without waiting to leave a message at either.

  I’m debating calling 911, when the doorbell rings.

  I fling open the door, hoping to God it’s Mom and she’s forgotten her keys.

  But it’s Alex, leaning against the porch rail with a large paper bag from Indigo Dragon.

  “Hey,” he begins nervously. “I figured you might still be hungry, so I took off early and packed up some extra soup and a sandwich for you. . . .”

  I grab his arm and pull him inside. “Did you bring your truck? We have to hurry.” He follows me through the house as I grab an old soft towel from the hall closet.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, immediately dumping the bag of food on the counter in the kitchen. “Are you okay?”

  “No, it’s Sophie! She’s throwing up and my mom is not answering the phone and I can’t drive.” I open the back door and step onto t
he porch where Sophie is lying.

  “Just slow down,” Alex says, placing both hands on my shoulders. “Take a deep breath.”

  “I have to get her to the vet,” I tell him, trying very hard not to cry. My voice gets wobbly, but I swallow hard. “They keep late hours. On Mondays and Wednesdays, they’re open until eight.”

  “Which vet?” he asks, lifting Sophie gently in his arms.

  “The one in the peach-colored cottage on Cypress. Just a short distance from here.” I follow him out to his truck with her squeaky toy.

  Alex’s face looks grim as we fly through the suburbs, and each time I look down, Sophie is looking back at me with an incredibly sad gaze. My stomach twists into tiny knots. I can’t lose her. Not today, not this month. Not ever.

  The vet’s office has a side door they keep open during late-night hours. I open the door while Alex carries my dog into the examination room.

  Our vet is a smiling woman with short spiky white hair. But her smile falls when she sees what a pitiful dog I have. “Oh my goodness,” she says. “What happened to you, Sophie?”

  “I don’t know. She was throwing up green stuff and not acting right. Not her normal self.”

  The vet examines Sophie swiftly. “I’m going to take a few labs, and give her some fluids. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “Thank you,” I tell Dr. Rivers gratefully.

  “Why don’t you two have a seat out in the waiting room while I have a look at her?”

  Alex pulls me away from Sophie. “Come on,” he says. “You need to give the doctor room to work.”

  I follow him to the waiting room and sit down on a hard orange chair. An old episode of The Big Bang Theory plays on the TV. Alex reaches over and squeezes my hand. I squeeze back gratefully, and lay my head against his shoulder.

  It seems like it was a lifetime ago that we were making out in his moms’ café. It feels like it was all a dream. Like it wasn’t really us.

  “How old is your dog?” he asks.

  “Almost twelve.”

  He nods. “She’s just a puppy. She’s going to be fine.”

  I take a deep breath. The tears that have been threatening to fall for the past hour finally pour out. My chest hurts because I am sobbing so hard.

  Alex’s arm slides around me, and I turn my face into his shoulder. His hand slides up and down my back as he tries to soothe me. “Hey, she’s going to be fine. You are going to be fine.”

  I feel his lips close to my hair as he comforts me. I close my eyes, wanting nothing more than to remain in his arms like this for the rest of the night.

  And then I pull away to stare at him. “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this. You didn’t deserve to be turned into a pet transport.”

  He frowns as he looks at me. “You didn’t drag me into anything. I’m here because you need me.”

  He’s rendered me speechless. I do need him. I can’t believe I’m admitting this. I don’t like to need people. But it feels like letting out a long-held breath. Like falling and knowing someone is there to catch you.

  “Andria?” The vet comes out into the waiting room, rubbing alcohol foam into her hands. “Sophie is going to be fine, but I want to keep her here overnight for some IV fluids.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” I ask.

  “It looks like she just got a little bit dehydrated. Maybe she got into something she shouldn’t have. But she’s going to be all right. Have you gotten in touch with your mother yet?”

  I shake my head. “I sent her a text, though. She should be here soon.”

  Dr. Rivers nods. “We can take care of the paperwork tomorrow when you come to pick Sophie up. Want to come back and say good-night to her?”

  Alex is holding my hand, and I squeeze his fingers, begging him silently to come with me. He understands. We both follow Dr. Rivers back into the kennel.

  Sophie is whimpering in a crate along the bottom row. A Maltese in the cage above her growls softly. I drop down to the floor and stick my fingers up to Sophie’s cage. She gives me a halfhearted lick.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” I say, trying not to cry in front of her. I don’t know if it helps or not, but she looks so sad it is breaking my heart. “Just think of this as being a sleepover with the Maltese up there,” I tell her. “When you come home tomorrow you can tell me all about the fun you two have had.”

  Alex squats down beside me. “They’ll be up all night doing each other’s hair and giggling about Justin Bieber.”

  I elbow him in the side. “Sophie is NOT a Belieber.” I don’t tell him that I named my dog after my favorite Diana Wynne Jones character. Even though I got Sophie as a puppy twelve years ago, long before Alex ever thought of naming a band Calcifer. Still, he doesn’t need to know.

  I sigh. “I’m not sure how I’m going to sleep without her. She stays next to my bed every night, watching out for seizures.”

  He puts a hand on my waist, and gives me a gentle squeeze. A friendly squeeze.

  We hear the high heels before we hear Mom’s voice. Just enough time for Alex to stand up and take a step away from me before she pushes the door open. “Andria? I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve been tied up at the office.”

  “It’s fine. Alex brought us. Did Dr. Rivers tell you what’s wrong?”

  “Yes.” She looks from me to Alex, and her face pales. “Alex? Hammond?”

  He is looking at me, ignoring my mother. “Are you going to be okay?”

  I nod. “Thank you.” I want him to stay. I want him to realize we never talked about what we were supposed to talk about this evening. The kiss at the Indigo.

  But I know he can feel the hostility coming off my mother in waves. She still sees him as the demonic influence of evil that killed Iris. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I ask.

  He gives me the slightest of nods. “Take care.” Then he gives Mom a little wave before walking out. I hope she can keep her mouth shut at least until he leaves. He doesn’t need to hear the awful things I know she’s going to say.

  She doesn’t wait. Her voice is shrill and tight. I’m certain he can hear her in the waiting room. “What the hell was he doing here with you?” Everyone in the vet’s office can probably hear her.

  I’m sure this isn’t the right time to talk to her about Alex. “He’s a friend.”

  Her eyes are brimming with pain. “How can you call that boy a friend? After what he did to Iris?”

  I shake my head. “I think Iris was a bad influence on Alex.”

  But she is not in the mood to hear this right now. “I don’t want that boy hanging around you.”

  “But he helped me get Sophie here. Where were you? I tried and tried to get hold of you. I was terrified that Sophie was dying and I didn’t know where you were.”

  Mom’s face crumples. “I’m so sorry, Andria. I came as soon as I saw your message.”

  Mom sighs and doesn’t speak to me again until she’s talked with the vet and we are back in her car, driving home again.

  “Andria, I had things I had to do at work. I’m already losing clients since Craig was arrested. Do you know how much money a good divorce attorney costs?”

  Of course I don’t know, but I don’t bother to point that out. She’s ready to cut him out of our life, but I haven’t thought about what she has to do legally to make that happen. I haven’t stopped to consider the fact that we are now a one-income family. Of course Mom is worried about money.

  I feel bad for adding to her stress. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how much taking Sophie to the vet would cost.”

  “Oh, honey, do not worry about that. I’m sorry that I married an evil bastard who preys on young girls,” she says bitterly. “What kind of person does that make me?”

  But Craig had charmed everyone. He’d seemed to be the perfect husband, soccer coach, businessman, community leader.

  Not a good stepfather.

  Mom has not gone to visit Craig in jail, and I heard her refuse a collect call fro
m him last night. One of her friends is a lawyer, but Ms. Helen specializes in real estate litigation, so she could only recommend a few names. And even though Mom has known Ms. Helen for years, I don’t think they’re close enough for Mom to tell her all the details of our family melodrama.

  Mom picks up chicken salads for us at the local deli on our way home. She makes sure I take my meds and then disappears into her bedroom with a glass of wine.

  I finish my homework and get ready for bed, but my room feels empty without Sophie. I turn out the light and lie down on my side, wishing I could hear her noisy snoring at the foot of my bed.

  The cell phone on my nightstand lights up. It’s a text from Alex. Are you okay?

  My heart grows warm and tingly. Now I am. I text back Yes and curl myself around my phone, cradling it in my hand.

  It glows again.

  Our share of night to bear . . .

  I can’t help but smile at my screen. The depressing poetry of Miss Emily Dickinson. I’ve finally converted him.

  Here a star, and there a star/ Some lose their way, I text back. I’ve missed our poetry. It seems like we can say so much more to each other when we use other people’s words.

  Afterwards—day! (See you in the morning.)

  I think my face is probably glowing brighter than my phone screen. I text back a smiley face, something I haven’t used in a text in months.

  I get a smiley face back. My dark bedroom doesn’t seem quite so empty anymore.

  CHAPTER 20

  Four Days

  The clock says 3:52 when I wake up. I know I was dreaming about Iris, but I can’t remember what it was about. I’m tired of the dreams of her trying to tell me something when I can’t hear her, or understand her, or see her. It’s so frustrating. And maybe that’s what the dreams mean. I’m frustrated that I didn’t see or hear anything going on in her life until it was too late. I can’t hear her in my dreams because I never heard her crying out for help in real life.

  Worst sister ever.