Flashback

by Amanda Carpenter

  And so Dana reluctantly followed her mother into the huge gymnasium that the Garden Club had rented and decorated, her mind tightly closed against any unwelcome intrusion. It was perhaps a good thing she’d blocked herself so well, for the physical shock of so many people together and chatting and laughing all at once jolted her senses as it was. She felt overwhelmed at the noise level, the people, the heat, the press, for she had never really experienced or been capable of experiencing a crowd of any size.

  Her mother was right ahead of her, and Dana saw her turn to give her a sharp glance. “Are you all right so far? This isn’t too much for you, is it?” she asked lowly.

  Dana smiled, an uncertain movement and yet genuinely amused. “I can’t tell yet. The noise level is too loud for me to think! No, I think I’ll do just fine. I just have to get used to so many people in one place.” Her eyes scanned the large open area, and she had to laugh again. “It’s funny, isn’t it? My mind intellectually tells me that there can’t be more than two hundred people here, and yet my brain is reeling.”

  “You aren’t used to a crowd. Take it easy and stick by me until you feel you are able to take it on your own. Remember, we can always leave.”

  Dana’s eyes, large from her new experience, had begun to sparkle. She looked over the people, all so differently and brightly attired in light summer clothes, all chatting and laughing and mixing together. “I rather think,” she murmured, “that I’m going to enjoy myself tonight, after all. Did you ever see so many people?” And she grinned as her mother laughed. “Look! There’s Jenny. Let’s go and say hello.”

  Denise was agreeable, and so they threaded their way through the people to Jenny’s side, and the slim young woman turned to give them both a wide, welcoming smile. “Hello!” she called out merrily, looking pleased. “I’m glad you could come—my mother and I were wondering if you’d really show or not. We’ve been keeping an eye peeled on the door, but you must’ve sneaked in on us.” Jenny’s mother, Mrs. Bernstein, turned around at her daughter’s words and soon Dana was feeling as if she’d been literally swept under a large mother hen’s wing. It was a rather flustering feeling, but very nice and welcoming, and soon her mother was chatting away with Mrs. Bernstein. Jenny motioned with her eyes to Dana.

  “Come on,” she whispered. “When my ma starts, no power on this earth can stop her, and I don’t really care to hear all about planting tomatoes right now, if you know what I mean. Let’s go and get supper.” Dana smilingly followed Jenny to a buffet table that was laden with food and they each heaped their plates, talking the whole while. Dana met several people that she knew; she’d never realised how many people she really did have an acquaintance with. There was the grocer and his family, and the postman and the bookstore clerk. All expressed pleasure at seeing Dana, and she felt a wave of warmth from their smiles.

  Finally Jenny and she turned to make their way to a seat and Dana had to stop suddenly to avoid the male body that blocked her way. As her eyes travelled up the dark length of David’s muscular body, she felt a thrill of shock, almost as if she were meeting him for the first time. He was wearing a dark smart pair of slacks and a white shirt, rolled up to the elbows, and it wasn’t so much his attire but the way he held himself that made her heart jolt. He was looking right down into her eyes, expression withdrawn, eyes searching, and then he slowly smiled, starting with his eyes and then widening his lips. It was a genuine, open smile, and he looked younger and more attractive than she’d realised was possible. She knew that most people wouldn’t call him handsome in the strict sense of the word, but to her he was the most beautiful person in the world. And he was smiling at her.

  Jenny was speaking, “…and I would like for you to meet our neighbour, David Raymond, or have you two already met?” Her bright eyes watched them avidly.

  “I know him,” Dana said quietly, and the very quality of her voice made the words somehow more than a simple statement. She smiled again but then turned away. “Excuse us, David. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like, but—” a flash from over her shoulder, “—don’t feel obligated.”

  Jenny made some laughing remark and Dana heard David’s low voice in reply. Then Dana was sitting down at a table, trying desperately to get herself together, wondering at how her heart was racing madly along, at her giddy happiness at seeing him so unexpectedly, at her foolish hope every time she looked into his eyes. Her mental block faltered just for a moment, and suddenly she looked up, across the room, her face paling. There, across people’s heads, stood a lazy, insolent, lounging figure, his face obscured by some shadow, but she knew it was Mick. She’d know that wave of antipathy anywhere. She watched him, upset as he mockingly raised a beer bottle to her and then drank, a cold trickle of the liquid slithering down his cheek and neck. She swallowed and then turned away.

  And she looked up at David, who stood frowningly in front of her. “What is it?” he asked, abruptly, setting his laden plate down and sitting. “What’s upset you?”

  Another swallow and a glance away. “Nothing, you must have imagined it,” she said lowly. Her fingers crept to the napkin by her plate and twisted into it. A large hand captured her restless fingers.

  “Dana,” a low quiver ran through his voice and, startled, her eyes flew up to encounter vivid laughter in his lit, dark eyes. “Don’t lie to me, of all people. Where have I heard that one before?”

  Her lips quavered into a smile. “Really, it’s nothing. A—a bad feeling that’s passed. I don’t want to talk about it here, please.”

  “All right.”

  She asked impulsively, “Do you ever sense anyone else now?”

  “No,” he said slowly, looking at her. “Only you.” Her eyes dropped in confusion.

  Jenny’s laughing voice spoke behind them, “I guess you do know each other if you hold hands over a cold buffet! No, honestly, Dana, I didn’t know that any of the younger girls blushed these days! I’m only kidding, for Heaven’s sake! Here, I got you a glass of wine.”

  “Oh, let me pay you for it,” Dana said, thanking her for the cold glass.

  “Goodness, no. Buy me a glass later on, will you? Have you tried the seafood salad, yet? I hear it’s very, very good…”

  Dana thought she’d never enjoyed herself so much as she did eating supper with David and Jenny, laughing in helpless surprise at David’s incredible dry wit and Jenny’s quick, droll response. Everywhere there were laughing people, and yet the trio was in an island of their own enjoyment, and Dana’s vivid sparkling eyes told of her inner joy.

  When she got up to get herself some dessert, she found David at her elbow, his manner attentive. At this she became so flustered that he laughed and again asked her what was wrong, this time his voice teasing, as if he already knew, which he probably did.

  But though he teased, Dana nearly became tearful she was so earnest. “I know that you probably realise that this is a first for me,” she said, painfully honest, gesturing around her. “But you don’t have to feel obligated to—to stay with me, if that’s why—”

  “Dana,” he said softly, coming closer and running a finger across her mouth until her lips trembled. He watched them as if fascinated, and she felt her knees quake. “I’m with you because I want to be with you. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

  She drew back, hurt. “I wanted you to tell me the truth,” she whispered stiffly.

  Suddenly he opened up and let something out, something brief. “I was telling the truth,” he said simply.

  She regarded him sombrely for a moment and then smiled. “Thank you.” And she threw back her head and laughed out loud as he mockingly bowed low in front of her, eyebrow cocked, mouth slanted.

  And the night became a fairy tale for Dana, who laughed and danced and lived each moment as if it were something precious to be treasured but not grasped at, letting go of each moment gently, letting it slide into memory, content to go on to the next. She caught sight of David’s dark eyes on her more than once, contempla
tive, serious, and in time she would falter into silence, but she gradually felt more at ease and started to grin at him, once wrinkling her nose until he laughed.

  “How can you be so simply happy?” he asked her, as he extended his hand out in invitation to lead her out to the dance floor.

  She became thoughtful as she felt the warmth and the hardness of his arms close around her carefully. She lifted her face to David’s suddenly attentive, still expression and she said quietly, “Perhaps it’s because I’ve had no expectations. I never dared to before, you know. Life for me was merely survival. I—it teaches you something about living, I guess. It makes you appreciate what you have at the moment.”

  There wasn’t any smile in David’s eyes at that; there wasn’t any glimmer of amusement at all. In fact as she looked up into his eyes, she surprised a strangely widened, remembering look, and his arms tightened until she felt her ribs ache. They circled the floor slowly, and slowly Dana eased her head on to his shoulder. He brought his face down and nestled in her hair for a while, cradling her close.

  As the evening wore on, Dana became aware of a minor disturbance over near the bar, and she saw Mick and another young man, their faces flushed, as they started to get obnoxious. She stared at them, her face perplexed as she tried to understand what made them tick. Almost instinctively, she reached out with her mind and she caught such a welter of jumbled emotions that she actually reeled from the impact. Cloudy aggression, recklessness, a frustrated, unrealised malice overtopping sheer, constant boredom and resentment made her gasp and hold her head, and David’s arm shot around her as they walked back to the tables where Denise and Mrs. Bernstein were sitting. “Dana? Dana?” he was asking sharply, shaking her shoulder roughly in an effort to get her head cleared. “Dana, answer me! What is it?”

  She looked at him and tried to smile. “Nothing. No, don’t look at me like that, David! There’s nothing you can do about it! It’s just something who has to fight their own battles and work out their problems on their own. Please, it’s so unpleasant, just let it be.” They had reached the table and as the two women had seen Dana’s momentary dizziness, there were anxious questions to counter and concerned attention to bear, so he didn’t press the matter, but his eyes followed her around thoughtfully.

  The two young men at the bar were finally approached by a stern looking woman with a double chin, both of which were bouncing in indignation, and they were politely but firmly shown the door, to everyone’s evident relief. “In fact,” Jenny said caustically, “I can’t imagine why they showed up here in the first place, but they always do! Mick’s mother is a member of the club and I guess she coerces him into making an appearance. He’s never too happy about it and neither is anyone else, since the chances are of him ending up just like he did tonight—filthy drunk. Well, the price for a drink at one of these things is always pretty low, even with the cover charge, so it’s not too surprising that he does come.”

  Instead of feeling relief that the two had finally left, Dana felt a strange and uneasy apprehension. It wasn’t anything substantiated, and certainly not understood, so she put it down to over-stimulation and tried to dismiss it from her mind.

  The room had cooled off quite a bit as the evening wore on. Some twenty minutes later, as David politely left the table to get a refill for both Mrs. Bernstein and Denise, Jenny stood also and grinned down at her mother. “I left my cardigan in the car,” she stated cheerfully. “Be back in a minute.” And she headed out with her mother’s admonition to bring her wrap, too.

  It was a very normal incident, nothing unusual in any way. Everything in fact was so normal-seeming and innocuous that when Dana got a sudden rush of uncomfortable warmth as she watched Jenny’s figure make for the exit, she was quite unprepared for it and gasped for air. She needed some fresh air. Maybe that would cool her off. She pushed against the table and stumbled to her feet. A shocking feeling of dread descended on her. Something was wrong. Something was going to be very wrong. Jenny. Without bothering to say anything in explanation to the two startled parents sitting there and gaping at her odd behaviour, she whirled and set off for the door, walking swiftly. She was so hot, and something impelled her feet into faster steps, and her breath came in faster, shorter gasps, and by the time she was out of the building and looking for Jenny, she was quite agitated.

  Afterwards, Dana could never say quite how or why, but she realised that her heightened emotion and tense concentration somehow clicked her into a higher awareness. She wasn’t sure how it happened, for she’d never experienced anything like it before.

  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness after the light and the noise from inside, she suddenly saw several things. A wave of antipathy hit her, along with unreasoning recklessness, and she saw Mick and his friend as they laughed drunkenly in his car. He reached forward and turned on the ignition, revving the engine far too much.

  The sound came from her right. It was then that she realised with a jolt that she’d seen them with her mind and not her eyes. She turned, knowing where to look now, and the pieces of her own apprehension began to tilt into place with a frightful rapidity that galvanised her into action. Jenny had just made her way to the last car parked in the row by the street and was heading for the outside door, the driver’s side. She turned her hand to the floodlight’s glare, head bent, searching for the car key to unlock the door.

  Mick was in the mood for excitement. The danger in him had built with the drink and the boredom, and now he was ready for some action, some kind of thrill. As he squealed out of the parking space down the street and to Jenny’s right, he saw what he could do.

  Dana had divined his thought even as he thought it, and a scream of warning ripped from her throat as she leaped into a dead run from a standing still position. Her awareness fragmented into a triple awareness. She heard and felt herself, and the pull of the muscles in her legs as they responded to her punishing order. She saw Jenny’s head jerk up and turn her way, and then the other girl started to walk towards her worriedly. She saw David’s head jerk up also, though he was inside, and then he was roaring and sprinting for the door on the toes of his feet, just too far away to help. She saw and felt Mick’s assumption, a drunk’s assumption, that he was in control of the car as he shot it down the road toward Jenny. Jenny had come away clear from the car by now. Mick would give her a scare and himself a thrill, and after all, it was no big deal. Dana saw the car’s speed and knew he’d never stop it or swerve in time.

  And she felt so gloriously alive, as the adrenalin pumped into her veins and heightened her awareness and speed. She felt every single breath that she sucked in, every pulse beat, every footfall on the pavement. She saw the harsh light and black darkness, and she saw David smash through the doors, making them slam against the walls, straining with everything inside of him to get to her. She saw Mick’s laughing, vivid face with her mind, saw it change into an expression of total horror as awareness hit too late. And she felt, as she raced, the utter sureness of her success.

  She cannoned into Jenny with every ounce of her pelting, straining body, and shoved the other girl as violently as she could with both arms. Jenny was propelled backwards. Mick swerved to avoid them both, but he was swerving much too late, and as he had to yank the car to the left to avoid the parked cars to his right, he was bound to plough right into Dana. The metal thumped as he separated Dana from Jenny. The car didn’t stop even then, though Mick was frantically applying the brakes, and it careened into the second row of parked vehicles, scaring three badly before crunching to a stop.

  And everything in the world was screaming: Dana was screaming as she knew the futility of attempting to throw herself out of the way. She’d put everything into her dash to push Jenny aside. And David was roaring with rage and terror as he watched the whole scene, so near and yet so irrevocably far away, sick with the knowledge that no matter how hard he was racing, he would never, ever be able to undo what was happening. And Jenny was screaming as the right bumper of
the car knocked her stunningly away, and the car’s metal was screaming, and Mick was screaming, and it did no good as he hit Dana full on. She felt the blow right in her midsection, and it smashed the air totally out of her. She remembered that, as she tumbled through the air like a rag doll, hitting the ground with an appalling force and rolling over several times until she finally came to a halt some yards away from the scarred cars. Everything had seemed so strange as the world flashed, first the night air and then the ground and then the air and then the ground, in such a fast progression she felt as if she would never know what was down or up again.

  She lay on her back, out of air and hurting inside so badly that she knew something had to be broken, somewhere. She couldn’t even moan, as she desperately tried and tried to suck in air, one arm flung helplessly out, her legs curled, head lolling to one side. She looked like a broken doll as she lay there, trying to gasp for breath. There were cries. Someone was screaming, and Dana knew it was Jenny. With a gigantic effort, she turned her head an inch or so and saw Jenny pick herself up from her fall. A solid bulk hurtled to her side. David knelt beside her, holding out both hands as if he wanted very badly to touch her but was afraid to, his face blank with shock, harsh bitten. She stared up at him, eyes wide and frightened, and something welled up in her throat to trickle down the side of her mouth, running down her cheek. She couldn’t breathe, labouring painfully.

  David turned around and screamed at the people starting to run their way, his voice deep with the panic inside of him, “Someone call an ambulance! She’s very badly hurt! Damn it to hell, hurry!” He whirled back to Dana and touched her face with a violently trembling hand. “Oh, darling, oh, God.”

  “Is she alive? Oh, please, is she?” Jenny was sobbing nearby. Dana wanted to turn her head to reassure her, but she couldn’t move anything anymore. She felt like a heavy piece of lead, like she was never going to move again.

  “Yes,” he said curtly, and he started to very carefully press at her arms in order to see if either one was broken. People were shouting, crying out, and Dana vaguely realised that her mother was kneeling on her other side and saying something as Mrs. Bernstein supported her, but Dana had eyes only for David. She watched him reach up to his shoulder, a fast and impatient movement, and he ripped his shirt sleeve right off, taking the cloth and carefully wiping at the trickle of blood coming from her mouth. His fingers still trembled uncontrollably, and he knelt with his face down close to hers.