In Between Dreams

by Iman Verjee

  But now, hours of waiting has caused the whole place to sag. The streamers are unpeeling from the walls and falling messily to the ground. My father helped himself to the punch and dropped some from the silver ladle, leaving a loud stain on the cloth. The house spreads, empty and wide. It has never seemed bigger.

  ‘Frances,’ my father says again, breaking through the cloudy fear in my mind. ‘Tell us what’s going on.’

  I play with the hem of my skirt. I am so nervous, I am close to tearing it apart. A million excuses fly through my mind, but none sits long enough to form into a possible story. In the end, I have to tell the truth. My mouth has gone dry and itchy.

  ‘No one is coming.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ My mother sits up straight, uncrosses her legs. ‘How do you know?’

  My face jerks up to hers and the look in my eyes makes her blink and turn a little away.

  ‘Because I didn’t ask anyone.’

  My confession sits heavy in the air; no one is sure how to react. Finally, she speaks.

  ‘You didn’t ask anyone.’ She repeats my words, letting each of them sit on her tongue for a prolonged moment.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ I have never heard her voice so hard; nor seen the bright color of anger in her face. ‘Why not?’

  I can’t bring myself to tell her the truth. I can’t bear to hear it said out loud. ‘I told you I didn’t want to have a party, didn’t I?’ I am slightly shocked at the blankness in my voice; at the easy way I meet her eye while saying this. There is a small glint of pleasure that rushes through my body at the sight of her falling face.

  ‘How could you do this to me?’ Her voice rises; it becomes high-pitched and unsteady. ‘This whole week, you could’ve said something.’ She takes a deep breath, shakes her head. ‘You lied to me.’

  ‘Marienne.’ My father puts a hand on her shoulder. ‘Calm down,’ but she ignores him.

  ‘I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately,’ she says. ‘I don’t know what I’ve done to make you want to be so cruel.’

  At this accusation, with him watching me so closely, I desperately wish I could tell her the truth, but it’s too late now and she might not believe me. Besides, I don’t want her pity.

  ‘I’m going upstairs,’ I say.

  ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

  I push the chair noisily away. ‘You can’t stop me.’

  My father catches her arm as she stands up. ‘Let her go, Annie.’ He isn’t looking at me; his eyes are trained on my mother, even though I am trying to catch his gaze. I need him to come with me but I know better than to ask.

  ‘What about all this food?’ She turns to him. ‘And the cake? What are we going to do with all of it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? I can’t just throw it away.’

  He thinks for a moment, pulling her down next to him and holding her hand. I don’t want to watch them but I can’t drag my eyes away.

  ‘Call the neighbors,’ he says. ‘Tell them we had a small party for Frances and there’s a lot of food left over.’ He gets up and starts to take down the decorations. I should be happy that this ordeal is finally coming to an end, but the absence of any friends has hurt me more than I expected and the act of him pulling everything down is like a tight pinch in the corner of my heart. ‘Melissa is always complaining we don’t invite her home anymore.’

  ‘Okay.’ She nods and starts to help him. ‘That’s a good idea.’ Their backs are turned to me and I have never felt more alone. I glance at Bubbie and she is sitting as calmly as always, her cool eyes upon my face. She is the only one who watches as the tears finally escape my chest and spill from my eyes. I clamp my hand down on my mouth to catch the sob bursting through, turning to run up the stairs before I give myself away.

  When he finally comes, it’s later than usual and I turn on my side, pretending to be asleep. I feel the light graze of his fingertips on my back, the hot air of his whisper. His breath is sweet and thick and the commotion of people from the dinner party they had without me is still fresh in his veins.

  ‘Are you awake?’

  I want to ignore him but the muscles in my neck move alone in a slow nod. Yes, of course I am.

  He lifts the covers and slides into the space I have left for him. His body curls around mine, his arm going around the entire length of my waist. He kisses my neck quickly but warmly and my body exhales into his chest. I try to turn and face him but he holds me firmly in place.

  ‘First, tell me what happened today.’

  Hot tears form in the corners of my already burning eyes and block my throat. From my position, I can make out the dark image of us in my mirror. His long leg thrown over mine, the perfect arch of his foot reflecting in the moonlight, smooth as bone-china. My head nestled against his chest, in between his wide, accommodating shoulders. Having him so close makes the truth easier to handle.

  ‘I didn’t ask anyone.’

  ‘I know that.’ His voice is soothing, low and sinking into the darkness. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Nobody likes me.’ My few tears have turned into full-fledged sobs. I can hardly breathe. It’s a pain so acute; such a deep hole of loneliness, that I can never imagine getting over it. ‘I didn’t ask them because I knew they wouldn’t come.’

  ‘What about Kylie? She used to be over here all the time.’

  ‘We’re not friends anymore.’

  ‘Why not?’ There is an edge of concern in his voice but he hides it well.

  ‘They all say I’m strange. And they made her believe it too.’ Here, I stop myself. I cannot tell him what really happened. A quick memory of that hazy afternoon flashes through my mind and I blink it away. I turn in his arms and this time, he lets me. He rests his chin on top of my head.

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘I can’t remember,’ I answer. ‘It’s been a while, I guess.’

  ‘You know it’s not true, right?’ His hand runs under my hair and rubs in slow circles down my back. ‘You know how lovely you are.’

  ‘Then how come you didn’t defend me today?’ I look up at him, pushing against his chest. ‘You just stood there and let her shout at me.’

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, that familiar, agonizing look comes across his face and his fingers slip into mine. The pillow beneath me falls silently to the floor and the events of the day become insignificant.

  I feel the roughness of the sheets tangling around my feet, the slick heaviness against my skin that I missed all day. The long sighs of the night, so close and loving in my ear, fill my heart with blood and happiness. I see, from the corner of my eye, the luminous glow of my fake galaxy above us; watch as it expands and blurs, finally bursting into infinite space. There is a shot through me; I gasp. Nothing more needs to be said.

  When it’s time for him to leave, he kisses my nose lightly. His bare feet hit the floor with hardly a sound. ‘Goodnight, darling,’ and the door closes just as silently behind him. I roll into the warm valley his body has made in the mattress, and miss him so much, it hurts everywhere.

  ‌3

  ‌St Albert. April 1992

  After my father tells my mother the real reason for me not inviting anyone to the party, she insists on dropping me to school the following Monday. She parks the car and we both sit in silence, watching as the students swarm by, giggling and shoving one another. One boy slams into her window and she jumps in surprise, letting out a little shout. I can’t help but laugh.

  ‘There’s Kylie,’ she says, pointing to a brown-haired girl hoisting her backpack further up her shoulder. My mother shouts her name before I can stop her. The whole student body seems to stop moving as pale green eyes search the crowd, finally falling upon us. Kylie gives a meek wave, not meeting my eye, and then someone beside her says something and her face breaks out into a mean, little laugh. My heart constricts and I turn away. ‘She didn’t even come and say hi.’ My mother sounds hurt. ‘I really should tell Heather to teach
her daughter some manners.’

  ‘I told you, she isn’t talking to me anymore.’ I unlock the door. ‘Can I go now?’

  ‘Maybe I should come in and talk to the principal.’ She is chewing her lip thoughtfully.

  ‘So he can force Kylie to be my friend again?’

  ‘I’m sure there’s something he can do,’ she shrugs helplessly.

  I get out of the car, slamming the door and then leaning in through the window. ‘Please, just go home.’

  ‘I want to know what happened, Frances.’ She leans forward, puts her cool hand on mine. Her gold bangles dance and shimmer in the sunlight. ‘I’m worried about you. I just want to make it better.’

  ‘Right now you’re only making it worse,’ I snap. ‘I’ll see you this evening.’

  ‘Frances, listen to me—’ she starts to say.

  ‘Bye.’ I throw myself into the moving mass outside the car, getting lost in it.

  At the top of the school stairs, I turn to see her green sedan slowly reversing out of the parking lot and, with a sharp swerve, it turns the corner and disappears from view. I wait for a few moments to make sure she isn’t coming back and when I’m certain the coast is clear, I run back down and slip out of the gates, hiding among the numerous students coming in, heading fast back in the direction I came.

  I am stopped in my tracks when I spot Kylie and one of her new friends. They are hiding out in the field; her friend is attempting to balance on a fallen log, her arms outstretched and circling her body like a falling helicopter. Her eyes look up and see me.

  ‘Hey, Ky, isn’t that your old friend?’ She stops walking and grins at me; her teeth are broken and brown. Kylie turns and I see that she has a cigarette tucked between her fingers. She throws it down when she sees me and her face closes up in embarrassment.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask.

  ‘Who are you, her mother?’ The girl on the log sneers.

  Kylie looks at me and those green eyes I know so well cause me to cast my look downward in shame. We had been friends ever since childhood and it still surprises me how abruptly it all came to an end; that I was the one to blame.

  She had come over to my house a few weekends ago and we had been lying on the bed, talking about something that is now lost in everything that happened after. The sun was in her face, casting her features into beautiful shadows. I don’t know what it was that made me lean in and kiss her; what terrible force grabbed my hand and moved it up to her chest. Recently, the impulse to touch someone, not only her, but other people too, had become too strong for me to resist. I couldn’t always wait until night time and even then, sometimes, he never came.

  ‘What are you doing?’ One minute she had been lying beside me, and the next, she was standing at the edge of my bed, clutching her arms around her.

  ‘Come on.’ I had been so brazen, so full of something hot. ‘It’s fun, I promise.’

  ‘How would you know?’

  I met her eye and refused to answer. She grabbed her bag, not looking at me. ‘I don’t know what’s gotten into you recently, but I think they’re right.’ Her voice trembled and there were tears in her eyes.

  ‘Who?’ I sat up straight, narrowing my eyes.

  ‘Everyone at school. They all warned me about you—said how strange you were.’ She was going for the door. ‘I should’ve listened.’

  ‘Wait, Kylie,’ I protested weakly, not really caring at that moment if she stayed or not, because despite everything she might have thought, she wasn’t the one that I wanted.

  Now she stands in front of me, picking up her cigarette and blowing the dirt off it. She puts it back in her mouth and inhales with a dry cough. I can’t help but think how ridiculous she looks.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asks.

  I don’t want to tell them where I am really going; I don’t want anyone else discovering my secret cave. ‘I followed you to apologize,’ I say instead. ‘I really miss you, Kylie.’

  ‘We all know how you feel about Kylie,’ the girl on the log snickers, stepping down. I notice how heavy her foot is in her black boot; the way it slams down on the ground and brings the dust up around it.

  ‘It’s none of your business,’ I snap back, horrified at the thought that Kylie has told her what happened.

  ‘Actually, it is.’ She puts an enormous arm around Kylie and I think I see Kylie shrink a little away. ‘We’re friends now.’

  ‘Kylie, about what happened,’ I decide to ignore the other girl. ‘It didn’t mean anything, I promise.’

  ‘That’s funny.’ The huge girl comes forward and before I can react, she grabs the hair at the base of my neck and tilts my head so far back that I feel the pressure of it in my eyes. I stay perfectly still. ‘Because usually when you kiss someone, it means a lot. When you touch someone,’ her eyes fall to my chest, ‘there, it sure as hell means something.’

  ‘Well you would know,’ I retort, refusing to show her how frightened I am. But there is something about this scenario that also excites me. ‘I heard you’re into that kind of thing.’

  She yanks my hair and throws me to the ground. My arm scrapes painfully against the dirt; I feel specks of it drag along my exposed nerves and I cry out despite myself. I attempt to push myself up but she kneels down and shoves me in the chest so that I end up sprawled once more on the reddish mud. I’m not sure how I’m going to explain the rust color of my socks to my mother. ‘Get lost,’ she says in a low growl. ‘Kylie doesn’t want to speak to you anymore, got it?’ Then she turns to my old friend and gestures with her head. ‘Come on, before they notice we’re missing.’

  I meet Kylie’s eyes once more and the coldness in them hurts more than anything. ‘Leave me alone, Frances,’ she says quietly, dropping the still burning cigarette at my side and stepping over me. I shut my eyes against the hot sunlight and when I open them again, they’re gone.

  I make my way home early; the cut on my arm is burning now and has turned into an ugly purple bruise along its edges. My mother’s shift starts at two o’clock so I leave the cave at that time, knowing she’ll be gone by the time I get back and that Bubbie will not say anything.

  My grandmother is making beans on toast when I come through the door and I lean against the kitchen doorframe, watching her poor and bent body, the lugging motion of her feet, and I wonder what has happened in her life to make her so sad. She turns at that moment and I hold up my arm, shrugging and trying to laugh.

  She motions for me to come in and reaches into a cupboard for our medicine box. Then, she points to the seat next to her and I slide in. She picks up my arm and studies it closely.

  ‘Gym class,’ I lie. ‘We were playing soccer outside and I fell.’

  She doesn’t say anything to me, instead, pouring a generous amount of antiseptic onto a cotton swab and before I have time to think, she rubs it against my torn skin and I try to pull away in pain. But her fingers are like thirsty roots that anchor my hand in place. She pauses, looks up and shakes her head firmly, so I stop struggling. When she is done, she applies a cold, soothing cream and covers it with a bandage. I sag against my chair, exhausted. She notices my socks and then holds out her palm. I give them up gratefully.

  ‘Thank you.’

  She gets up and presses her wet lips to my forehead, cradling my head against her and my arms go around her bony waist. Then she draws her head back and in that one second of silence, with nothing but the light chirping of birds outside, I know she is getting ready to tell me something. Her mouth starts to move but I can’t tell at first if it’s a twitch from old age or if she is trying to form words; because some things need to be said out loud. They cannot afford to be miscommunicated. Her fingers tighten their hold around my neck and a dark urgency draws across her eyes. There is a deep strange gurgling beginning in her throat and her eyes dash from side to side, as if she is no longer in control of her body. The noise, odd as it is, reminds me that I have missed the sound of her voice; that she used to sing me to sleep
sometimes, but I also have an inkling of what she wants to tell me and I don’t want to hear it.

  ‘Are you making beans on toast?’ I ask, jumping down from the stool and going to the stove. ‘Because I’m starving.’

  She stares after me a little forlornly, dazed by the passion that consumed her seconds ago. Then she nods and moves slowly to the pot, making a spooning action with her hand and then pointing at me. I smile, relieved to have her back.

  ‘Yes, I’d love some.’

  She goes back to stirring and the moment is lost.

  That night, I clutch to him tighter than ever. I tell him what happened and he listens with his cheek pressed to mine. I check the time to see how long we have until my mother comes back from work; it’s only nine o’clock, which gives us two hours. But hospital work is unexpected. Sometimes, she comes home as late as early morning, rubbing her bleary eyes, still glowing from the excitement of an emergency. When I was younger, I used to wait out on the step for her, holding my eyelids open to fight off sleep. But now, I find myself hoping for a bus collision or a premature birth—anything that will keep her busy.

  Bubbie is already asleep. We can hear her gentle snoring coming under the door, assuring us that we are safe. His hand trails down my arm, passes lovingly over the bandage as I talk. I am not even sure if he is listening.

  Finally, he turns to me. ‘I have a mind to go and talk to the principal about that girl.’ My heart soars when I hear the angry undertone of his voice.

  ‘I’m okay,’ I say, curling up into his arm and thinking that for right now, this is all that matters. I feel his chest swell beneath my cheek, quiver for a moment and then he lets it go with a long, rapid whoosh.