“Yes... I can see it now... not a snake exactly, but a river leading out to the ocean. You’re laying a short ways from the shore, a field of grass all around you... a river in the distance… the sea further on… and trees. You and Cole are together, but you’re staring upward… something’s not quite right...”
Oliver tipped his head in concentration, his gaze back in the past. Cole’s body was frozen in place, his fingers clawing the edge of the table. Heart thudding loudly in his ears.
‘This can’t be happening...’
Oliver’s voice dropped back into its hypnotic rhythm, the words rippling like wind against grass.
“The sun is shining. It’s a beautiful place: the shore and the trees, and the river in the distance. There is so much beauty there, so much peace. Cole is talking to you and the wind is blowing... but you already know something…” He frowned. “Ava, you know what’s happening to you.”
“What’s happening?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Cole could feel something pulling at his awareness. It was so close now he could feel the wind on his cheek. Knew the texture of the grass under his shoes. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, poising him for flight.
‘I’ve been there!’ his mind screamed. ‘I’ve seen this!’ His body rioted with the urge to run. It was too much, and the denials from earlier only made this moment all the worse for its intensity.
“You’re there, just the two of you. You love him, Ava... I can see that even here.” Oliver’s voice roughened. “Cole’s begging you to stay with him, but you can’t…”
As Oliver spoke, distress began to wrap tightly around Cole’s chest. Oliver’s voice was no longer soothing to him; the words leaving Cole more panicked with each passing second.
‘I know this story...’ he realized. ‘I know how it ends!’
“He wants this new beginning… this new start for the two of you…” Oliver glanced up, catching Cole’s eyes, and with that, ice ran down his spine. Oliver looked worried. “Ava, you’re just lying there… and you want to stay with Cole, but there’s something wrong, you’re hurt… your body is… you’re…”
Oliver’s voice broke, and he let out a sharp gasp. Both Ava and Cole jumped at the sound.
“Please, Dad,” Ava begged. “I need to know.”
“Your body it’s… it’s just broken, Ava. You’re dying. Cole’s there with you, talking to you, and you want to stay with him, but you can’t.”
His words stumble awkwardly to a stop, and he looked up at his daughter, eyes wide.
“I’m so sorry, Kiddo.”
“I died after we made it to the shore,” she answered him, her voice oddly calm.
Cole pushed back from the table, his screeching chair tipping over and banging on the floor. He was already on his feet when Ava jumped up. Oliver dropped the cup from his hand with a loud clatter, tea leaves scattering, words disappearing as Cole began to yell.
“No!” he shouted. “It can’t be that story! That’s my DREAM! Don’t you see?! You’re seeing my dream!” He was yelling, his body wracked by the onslaught of pain. “The dream I had after Hanna died. I was always being left behind... and it was always Ava who LEFT ME!”
She was beside him, her arms around him, holding him tight.
“It’s okay,” she said, voice breaking, “I’m here now.”
Chapter 9: The Time of the Lone Wolf is Over
They were drinking tea again, this time out of coffee mugs; all the teacups for reading were shoved roughly to the side. Cole had his elbows against the table, his body slumped forward. Next to him, Ava rubbed circles into his back, her arms around him. It had taken a full twenty minutes to get the story out of Cole in any semblance of order, and Ava still wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Cole dreamed of her dying… had dreamed it endlessly for many years before he met her that day last Fall outside the art history class. He’d had the dream enough times to describe it with uncanny detail. Remembering her own dream in his own way. There was no peace in his version, only his absolute horror at her loss. Ava was more bothered by this than the fact that he’d recognized her painting, or that he was in her past-life teacup at all. It was Cole’s agony with her dying that grieved her. Even now, mug in hand, he was inconsolable.
‘No wonder he’s afraid I’ll leave him.’
Across from them, Oliver had a lit cigarette in his mouth, returning sense to the incomprehensible events of tonight. Narrow bands of smoke wove around him like loosely coiled rope, winding around his hands and arms as he gestured. Ava’s father never smoked in the house... never.
Until tonight.
“It’s something that already happened,” her father explained. “It obviously is affecting you both. But it doesn’t mean that something like that’s going to happen again. I mean, why should it?”
He took a long draw on the cigarette, and Ava knew she was not imagining the tremors in his fingers. This reading had really bothered him.
It worried her too.
“What scares me,” Cole muttered, “is that Kip Chambers dreamed of Ava too.”
“He dreamed of my painting,” Ava corrected. “Not me, exactly.” It felt like a lie, but the truth felt worse.
Oliver frowned.
“Who’s Kip?”
Ava fiddled with her mug, weighing her words before laying them out. Things were unbalanced again and getting worse. For just a moment, she flashed to sliding down the steep decking of a boat. ‘Another dream…?’
“He’s the other guy you saw in my cup,” Ava answered nervously, “the one I had to make a clean break with in order to get things cleared up. The guy Cole has an issue with. He had these dreams – these nightmares – when he was a kid... and it seems linked to me somehow.”
Oliver nodded, tapping ash into the chipped saucer next to him.
“Ah, well, that makes sense. He’s probably from this other time too. But I didn’t see him in your cup at all. Just saw Cole with you there at the end.”
“Maybe he was one of the people who died in the storm,” Ava said quietly. This wasn’t making her feel any better at all.
Oliver shrugged and put the cigarette to his mouth again, lips pursed to hold it in place.
“Could be,” he mumbled, “looks like a lot of people died in that storm.” He paused for a long moment as he drew the smoke into his lungs, and Ava knew what he was going to say right before he said it. “Even you died, Ava.”
Next to her, Cole sat up.
“What the fuck does that even mean!?” he snapped, fury under the surface of his pain.
Oliver frowned, leaning back and setting aside the cigarette. He picked up Ava’s discarded teacup and held it in the palms of his hands. His lips tightened as he looked into it.
“There’s a figure here. I’d say the figurehead on the prow of the boat. It’s a woman – a woman with wings instead of arms—”
“An angel,” Ava interrupted.
Oliver nodded, setting the cup down and steepling his fingers.
“What Ava saw tonight at the show, the woman you carved, was an echo of that memory. It must’ve been something she saw – something that meant something to her, something that scarred her – and after that she… she…”
He left the word unspoken, picking up the cigarette from the saucer with trembling fingers.
“I’ve no idea what it really means. I don’t know anything for sure... but whatever happened, it marked both of you. You’re connected – the two of you – and you, and this… this thing between you is still connected. Still wrapped together.” He frowned, pointing at Cole with the burning end of his cigarette. “Emily Bronte wrote that ‘whatever our souls are made of – his and mine are the same.’ I think that’s what Ava is to you, and you to her.” He sighed. “Your past is tangled together, and it’s affecting things here and now.”
Cole laughed coldly.
“Look, I don’t believe in any of this shit, alright? I don’t know how you knew that abou
t my dreams... but I don’t believe in past lives. When you’re dead, you’re dead.”
Ava watched as her father took another lengthy drag on his cigarette. His eyes were narrowed and critical. The atmosphere of conflict made Ava feel sick.
“An atheist, huh?” Oliver said curtly. “Well, life might throw some things at you every once in a while to question that.” He laughed harshly.
“Doesn’t make any sense.” Cole grumbled.
Next to him, Ava’s fingers found their way to his hand, holding tight.
“No, it doesn’t,” her father replied, “but there’s a lot of crazy shit that happens in life that science never explains... and the ripples of events – past and future – go both ways, forward and back. Most of what we’re doing now is our focus, but big events change us. Call it a parallel universe if you want to... or a past life... or just misfiring synapses.” He tapped the side of his head as he said it. “I don’t really care how the hell it gets explained, but the ripples happen, and they go both ways...” He gestured between them, the cigarette forgotten in his hand. “I think that’s what’s happened here.”
“So what do we do about it?” Ava asked. “I mean, is this a warning? Something that’s going to happ—”
“It’s already happened,” her father barked. “You remember that. Alright? It’s done now, Ava. Done!”
She could tell he was upset too. He never raised his voice. It wasn’t her father’s nature.
“But how could this...?” Ava mumbled, not even knowing what she to ask, just that she was feeling lost, and wasn’t sure where to go now. Cole leaned closer, his shoulder pressing against hers. Balancing her.
Across from them, Oliver set the cigarette butt into the saucer at his elbow as he blew smoke to the side. He rubbed his ragged face. There were rings under his eyes, skin waxen. He wouldn’t be reading any more teacups any time soon.
“I don’t know how it happened, Ava,” he said wearily, “but the woman with wings is here, and you dreamed her, and the voyage ended in death.” He glanced at Cole, voice hard. “I know what I saw... and if you dreamt about it and so did Cole, then it’s obviously done and gone. So it’s this life you should be thinking about,” Oliver said, knuckles rapping loudly on the tabletop. “What to do now should be your focus.”
There was an uncomfortable silence and then Oliver glanced to the side as if hearing something. Without a word, he got up and headed into his bedroom, returning seconds later with a dog-eared book. He flipped through the pages as he walked.
Clearing his throat, he began to read.
“This could be a good time. There’s a river flowing now very fast. It’s so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart and they will suffer greatly. Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, kept our eyes open, and our heads above the water. And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate...
“At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally. Least of all, ourselves. For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey come to a halt...
“The time of the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves! Banish the word struggle from your attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration...
“We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.”
He glanced up as he finished. Ava felt a sense of déjà vu... she’d had a dream once about another man talking to her about a boat. He’d told her about the time to head out into the water, and the time to wait out a storm. Her throat was tight, too many emotions under the surface.
‘My father died, leaving us all behind… and I had to choose because of it…’
She blinked and the almost-memory was gone.
“Who wrote that?” Cole asked. His voice was raw with emotion.
“No one knows the name of the author,” Oliver answered, “it was before the advent of written language. It’s a Hopi prophecy about our time.”
He sat back down at the table, lifting the cigarette. He gestured between Ava and Cole, ashes swirling.
Set adrift…
“This time around,” Oliver said with a nod, “in this life... the two of you are in the river together.”
Chapter 10: Polaroids
Ava's last semester of university appeared in a series of flashes. The first were bright and intense: Christmas with Cole’s family, the fight at New Year’s, the teacup reading with her father the night of the Student Show. Others had the muted golden hue of 1960’s prints, poignant and wistful. They were single events that would someday form a nostalgic illustration of the end of an era.
These times reminded her of the photographs now lining one wall of her studio, random moments captured in a blur of light and colour. There were weekends partying with Chim, Suzanne and Cole at The Crown and Sceptre, late weeknights at the university print-making lab, trying to adapt the multi-print zinc plate into ten variations, sharp memories of biting her lip to stay quiet in Cole’s thin-walled dorm while he moved on top of her. Individual moments marked the passage of time.
Some of the snapshots on the wall had been developed at the local film shop, though two strips were from the two dollar insta-booth in the mall – one with her and Cole, and another with all four of them, squished together in the booth, Chim’s Marley cap down across his forehead. Lately a growing number of these pictures were the oddly-shaped self-developing ones; names and dates scribbled in the band at the bottom. Wednesday at the Crown. Suze and Chim. Hiking in the river bottom. Sunday in the diner...
Chim had located the old Polaroid camera at the downtown thrift shop and they’d all pitched in for film. These quick snapshots had become an impromptu art project; there was a growing collage, supplemented by drawings on napkins and doodles on receipts. Each snippet decorated the space that had become, over the last months, the agreed-upon meeting place for the four of them. Ava couldn’t help but feel like she was recording this all for later.
Each week moved her toward graduation and all of its challenges. There were decisions to be made about the future. Chim already volunteered for Amnesty International; his supervisor had offered to extend his role into a paying position starting the following summer. Now the rest of them were beginning to realize that these last few months were, in many ways, their last ‘free’ time together. Jobs and mortgages and life would soon take over. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.
Suzanne was the one who’d come up with an answer.
She had several friends who were planning to spend their Spring Break volunteering at an animal sanctuary on Martinique. With their help, Suzanne located an inexpensive chateau to rent down the coast from Trois Îlets. The place she’d found was a private residence that fronted a secluded beach. With the change in currency and a split four ways, they would have more than enough money to pay full price for airfare. Cole grinned as Ava insisted that they plan on snorkeling when they were there.
“You’re cheating, you know,” he said, raising his eyebrow sceptically. “It isn’t really coming true if you force it to happen.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“Cole, you don’t even believe in teacup reading,” she replied, dryly. “Not sure why you care how it works.”
Dubious or not, the two of them had been changed by Oliver’s words. The story of their dreams, and the sudden awareness of the connection between them, was yet another piece that simply “fit.” Ava found herself thinking about it on occasion, bits of dreams – a wooden bird, the two of them holding hands in the rain – coming at random moments. These past echoes gave her comfort, but they weren’t the only part of her cup she intended to see to fruition.
Tonight in the Crown, it was the future rising up across the side of the cup she was focused on. Across from them in the booth, Suzanne pulled out a pamphlet from amongst the rest of her travel guides.
“I
f we do decide to go snorkeling, I’d like to go to the Trois Îlets Wildlife Sanctuary,” she said, tapping the paper in front of them. “They’re repopulating the Hawksbill Turtle population there.”
Ava glanced at Cole and this time she was the one smirking.
“Fine, you win,” he said, throwing up his hands in defeat. “Maybe your dad did see something.”
Ava turned to him, her voice dropping.
“Maybe…?” she scoffed.
Under the table, one of Cole’s hands slid up her leg. Her knee jerked in surprise, bouncing the glasses, and Chim gave them a knowing grin.
“He’s right more often than not,” Ava said, voice squeaking, “but you’ve always got a choice about what you decide to do. Nothing’s fated. You can change anything, you know?”
Cole grinned, fingers moving higher. She closed her eyes as his hand began tracing over her inner thigh. Across from them, Marcus rolled his eyes, turning back to Suzanne; in seconds, they were lost in their own conversation.
“But how can he see it, if you’ve got a choice?” Cole teased. “Doesn’t make sense.”
She thought of her wish – the two of them together – and in that moment his hand slid in the rest of the way, leaving her gasping.
“I don’t care how it works,” she gasped, squirming under Cole’s roving hand. “I just know it does.”
: : : : : : : : : :
It was a Friday night in early February, and Cole and Ava were staying in Frank and Nina's guest suite. The Spring weather was blustery, and with the pressure change, Nina had developed a migraine. After dinner, she and Frank had retired to bed, leaving Ava and Cole to fend for themselves.
Coastal suburbia was dead for a Friday. After a late supper at the downtown pizzeria, the two of them came back for the night. They tiptoed up the stairs, laughing like teenagers before climbing into bed, listening to gusts of wind around the eaves. Ava lay on her stomach on the bed, bare feet propped on her pillow, flipping through television channels. Behind her, Cole lay propped up against the headboard, a black notebook in hand.
Intaglio: Dragons All The Way Down Page 6