by Modou Fye
Once across the street, he started for Phil and the girls when he noticed the profile of a little girl standing at the far end of the Water Tower dressed in a pink dress. From that distance the dress looked just like that of the little girl that had been with him. It had to be her. She was talking to what appeared to be a young woman or perhaps a girl in her late teens. Reasoning that the little girl had mistaken him for someone else and wanting to be certain that she was with the right person this time, he ran over to them.
“Hi,” he said laboriously, winded after having dashed over.
The young woman looked up from where she sat. As soon as she saw him, she smiled ever so lovingly. “Hi.”
“There you are!” said the little girl, quite excited. “Where did you go?” she asked, dancing around him.
“Where did I go?” he repeated, bemused. “Sweetie, I should be asking you that,” he said.
She was now too focused on her doll to pay any attention.
Jaden then remembered the young woman. “Sorry if I sound presumptuous but am I correct in assuming that you speak English?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling at him as though she herself were a child, one in a candy store.
“Good!” He let out a deep breath. “Sweet little thing, but she almost gave me a heart attack. She seemed to appear out of nowhere and vanish just as suddenly before I could help her find who she was with, which I assume is you, correct?”
“Yes. I’m sorry about that. She has a tendency to…” she paused “…disappear,” she finished.
“I’d believe you if you meant that literally,” he joked.
She smiled. “No you wouldn’t,” she said. Though Jaden was oblivious, her smile bespoke a greater meaning in the answer that she had given him.
“I hope you don’t mind but if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to be sure that you are who you say you are. The little cupcake did confuse me for someone else; I’d just like to be sure that she is safe. I hope you understand.”
“Yes, I do. We do live in a crazy world.”
“Thank you for understanding.” He knelt down beside the little girl. “Hey sweetie, that’s a pretty doll that you have there. What’s her name?”
The little girl looked at him and smiled. “I don’t know what to call her yet. I’ll tell you when I’ve picked one.”
“Sure! Sounds good to me. So do you come here a lot with the pretty young lady you’re with?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like coming here?”
“I love to come here. I always have a lot of fun.”
“I like coming here too,” Jaden told her.
“Of course you do. We almost always come here together,” she said, looking at him as though much confused by his words.
Jaden looked at the young woman, who was still smiling as though one entranced.
“You just remind her of someone,” she said.
“The resemblance between whoever that is and me must be uncanny then.”
“Quite!” said the young lady with a twinkle in her eye.
“Well, now that that’s been taken care of, I feel better. Please do keep a closer eye on her. The world, as you alluded, is not a safe place even for adults, let alone children.”
“You couldn’t be more right,” the young lady agreed. “She’s quite safe. Thank you so kindly for your concern.”
“Don’t mention it,” Jaden said, rising. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
He looked at the little girl, “Goodnight, little Miss Sunshine.”
“Where are you going?” she asked him.
“I’ve got to go home, sweetie.”
“Is it time to go home already, and where did the sun go?” she asked, sounding disappointed and confused.
“We can stay little love, but Da-” The young lady stopped short then said, “He does have to go. And the sun is away just for a little bit but it’ll come back, okay?”
Jaden didn’t think to ask why the young woman had almost called him by the same name. He just assumed that perhaps the young lady thought to use the same only to explain matters to the little sweetheart.
“Okay. We’ll be home later then,” the little girl said, hugging him.
He smiled. “Okay. Take care!” He then walked away. Walking past the Water Tower, he looked down to where he and the others had sat, wondering if Phil was still out there with Lydia and Cassandra. They weren’t. As he walked back to his vehicle thinking about the young lady and the little girl, he did observe that the child bore a semblance to the young lady. Jaden was sure that had the little girl been as old as the young lady, they surely could have passed for twins. The resemblance was extraordinary.
AT HOME THAT EVENING: It took a bit of time before Jaden could fall asleep for he sought to learn who Lydia reminded him of and, furthermore, what memories lay dormant that might be awakened. Her inflection and mannerism when saying “hello” and “silly boy” seemed to be reaching into his past, seeking to invoke memories long lost within him.
While he pondered he even considered that it was none other than herself of whom he was reminded; perhaps, he thought, he might have known her in days past, that this was not the first time that they had crossed paths. Preposterous! he thought. Yet still did he feel, rather intensely, as though she was not a stranger. “No! That really is an absurd notion,” he mumbled. Surely, he was certain, he would not have forgotten anyone that adjured so strong a sense of familiarity.
Before sleep finally overcame him, when still in that place between wakefulness and slumber, he considered if Lydia was an elemental character of the same mystery that had manifested when first he beheld the Water Tower while with Frau Steinberger. Was there an affiliation between her and the vague memory of a little girl in his dreams of so many years past?
24
A Dream
THE FOLLOWING MONDAY: “Sir, that’s the girl that I’m going to marry,” Sergeant Phil said as both he and the lieutenant were leaning against the wall awaiting the call of first formation.
“Whoa! Easy, young gun!” the Lieutenant said, his facial expression perhaps implying that Sergeant Phil might have lost his mind.
“I couldn’t be any more serious, sir.”
“I won’t pretend to know much about women, goodness knows that I don’t, but it probably won’t be such a great idea to tell her that just yet. You don’t want to scare her off,” Jaden explained. “From what I’ve heard, more often than not the girls scare off the guys when they start talking eternal commitment and the like, even if they’ve been together for half of forever. I don’t know, dude, but I’d think that most girls who have someone propose to them after no more than a single date would probably be inclined to try to get some distance, quite a bit of it, mind you, between themselves and their suitor, particularly when people are so literally insane these days. So you can probably imagine how Cassandra might get freaked out if you were to start talking like that when you haven’t even known her all that long; again, especially after just a single date. Don’t get me wrong, it can happen. It does happen. I just don’t know if Cassandra is more of a ‘let’s get to know each other some more’ type of girl, or a ‘love at first, second, or third sight, and will happily get hitched believing she’s found the right guy’ type of girl.”
“Good point, sir!” the Sergeant agreed. “Hey, I know we kind of just met and I have no real idea what kind of person you are but let’s get married,” the Sergeant said, trying to imagine how that might go over in real life. He found it disturbing. “Yeah, I can’t imagine that going over well with too many people; and you’re absolutely right, we live in times where there are all kinds of twisted and warped people out there with only God knows what intentions in mind. No, no worries about that, sir. I’m not going to propose to her or anything like that, at least not yet, but that definitely is the girl that I’m going to marry.”
“I’ve heard of love at first sight but I guess because I’ve never experience
d it first hand, though people do say it happens, I’ve always thought it a bunch of garbage, something that couldn’t be real even in dreams. What makes you so sure that this isn’t merely a passing infatuation?” Jaden asked.
“Err… I don’t know, sir,” Sergeant Phil admitted. “I think, maybe believe, that we are talking love at first sight though,” said the Sergeant, looking pensive.
“You know a thought entirely unrelated to our discussion just occurred to me,” Jaden said while looking at his watch that he may know for how much longer might they idle until the calling of formation.
“What’s that, sir?”
“I think if you were to ask a random person what their idea of infantrymen is, I doubt they’d say two dudes leaning against a wall discussing feelings.” They laughed. “Not macho, dude! Not macho at all, man,” Jaden then said.
“Definitely not, very far from it,” Phil agreed.
“Anyway, how much longer did you hang out for after I left?”
“Not that much longer. We were pretty much on your heels.”
“So you found the one that’s the one, huh?” Jaden said foolishly then chuckled.
“I don’t know what it is about her, sir, but I’m falling hard, if not already fallen.”
“Dude, emotions are inexplicable. When it happens, what can anyone do but simply go with it.” Thoughts of Melanie suddenly overcame him intensely, overwhelming him; time, however, interceded on his behalf for, at that moment, the call for formation was sounded by his platoon sergeant, who was barking orders as he exited headquarters. The lieutenant’s thoughts shifted abruptly.
LATER THAT MORNING: Leaning back in his chair and twiddling his thumbs, he waited for his computer to boot up that he could keep current with world affairs before applying himself to work.
“Only half of forever!” he said when the system finally booted up. When he clicked open a browser, his default website failed to display; rather, what he saw was a website pontificating what it claimed to be ancient wisdom.
“What the hell is this?” he said, grimacing, wondering how exactly his default setting had changed. Then his least favorite internet annoyance appeared; a pop-up window. It read, ‘In hindsight can foresight be found. Thy past is a constant; for though you distinguish thy now from yesteryear, yesteryear will yet be thy morrow. Why choose ye not to heed thine own words? In hypocrisy shall you find naught save pain, yet again.’
“What! What the hell kind of archaic, esoteric garbage is this shit!” he cried. He considered if anyone might have been on his computer. That couldn’t be as he always locked his office door before leaving and so it remained until when next he unlocked it. He tried to open the address bar atop the browser; however, further compounding his frustration, the computer had frozen, forcing him to stare at what he derided as ancient drivel. “Great! This is all I need!” He glared at the computer. Why was it malfunctioning? “What’s with this piece of crap? It’s still pretty much new. Damn it!” He reached for the phone intending to call his computer personnel when he inadvertently brushed over the mouse. The cursor moved. “Oh! So it’s no longer frozen,” he said. He tried yet again to access the website through means of the address bar when quite suddenly the browser simply closed out, leaving only the pop-up displaying on the screen. He tried to close it too. The computer didn’t seem to be frozen as the cursor moved freely yet he could not close the pop-up, open a new browser, log off, or even restart the computer.
Exasperated and impatient he unplugged the power cord from the wall, lifted the laptop, and then dropped the battery pack onto the desk. Though he’d finally achieved his aim, it didn’t happen as quickly as Jaden had expected for even as the laptop didn’t have any power source, still the pop-up remained, as though it were of its own will. Other than stare at the laptop utterly baffled, Jaden couldn’t imagine what else he could have done. He stared blankly at the screen for a couple of minutes before it finally powered off.
“I’ve had more than my share of inexplicable occurrences lately. I really don’t care to add possessed computers to the list,” he said while reattaching the battery pack. “Ancient wisdom! More like modern day, drug-induced bullshit by some ultramodern beatnik with too much time on his hands,” he grumbled. “I just hope I don’t have some kind of a virus on this damned thing.”
Later that evening while lying in bed, he observed an empty vodka bottle on his dresser placed somewhat hidden between an empty flower vase – a gift given him by his landlord for which he could not find a suitable place – and the television. He couldn’t recall why he had left an empty bottle there. Not too many people remain lucid while drunk so I guess that explains that, he reasoned. Then a realization dawned upon him; he hadn’t had anything to drink at all the past couple of nights. And if he were not to drink on this night, it would mark his third consecutive night. He certainly didn’t feel the need to. Might he take this to mean that he needn’t worry that he had become an alcoholic? Surely had he been such he’d have had withdrawal symptoms by now, right? Certainly he would have, he assured himself; yet the fact remained that he hadn’t suffered from any such symptoms. Had the empty bottle not caught his eye, he might not have even become aware that he hadn’t been drinking as of late.
Something seemed to be inexplicable though. There was a peculiarity, of that he was confident. For one who drank quite heavily, how could he have been oblivious to the fact that his alcohol consumption had ceased abruptly? Friday evening was when last he had had anything alcoholic to drink. Saturday, after having spent time with Phil, Cassandra, and Lydia, then being terribly worried by a little girl with a vanishing act, he had gone back home, eaten dinner, and gone to bed with not a thought of alcohol on his mind. He had stayed home all day Sunday, and had certainly been to the refrigerator during the day, yet of all that had been consumed, alcohol had not. As he considered this, he realized that he wasn’t even sure if he had noticed any alcoholic drinks in the refrigerator when he had gone to quench his thirst. He was confident that he hadn’t consumed all his alcoholic beverages for, on Friday past, when he had gone to fetch a bottle of vodka, there were several more in there.
He stepped out of bed and made his way to the refrigerator. He opened it. He was dumbstruck for nothing alcoholic was to be found in there. The only drinks in there were water, orange and apple juice, and some soda bottles. These were mostly his mixing drinks, if he wasn’t consuming his alcohol unadulterated, that is.
Instinctively he looked around the kitchen then the rest of the apartment. Had he been burglarized? No, he hadn’t been. Though he didn’t have anything of value in his apartment, he reasoned that burglars would at least have taken the television, DVD player, and a game console with which he never played. Everything was still there; all but the alcohol. Though he thirsted not for alcohol, he couldn’t help but ask, “Where the hell did my drinks go? Am I seriously losing touch with reality?”
Disposing of the empty bottle, he returned to bed and reflected upon all the arcane phenomena that had descended upon him suddenly. What did it all mean? Did it mean anything at all? Was there even anything? After all, the aberrant events of late could just as well be attributed to excessive drinking, he hypothesized.
His thoughts drifted to Melanie. He became cognizant then that though still troubled by Melanie’s absence in his life, he now felt the burden of sadness borne by his soul, a consequence of her absence, allayed.
His thoughts then wandered off to Lydia; he wished desperately that he knew who she reminded him of. The memory seemed so close, almost within reach yet so very elusive. A thought occurred to him; he had neither desire for, nor even thoughts of, inebriation. Might this be no more than chance? Or was Lydia veritably integral to this mystery in which he found himself enshrouded. He tried to make correlations between meeting her, a call from the vehicle processing office by one who didn’t seem to exist, the strange occurrence at the Water Tower when with Frau Steinberger, and most recently – unless his mind had become undeni
ably detached from the world around him – a little girl who seemed to move unnaturally fast, and had been very adamant that he was someone that he couldn’t be any more certain that he wasn’t. He failed in his effort to parallel these events for he could think of nothing apparent nor obscure that might have afforded him a chance to even grasp at straws.
Then he remembered Lydia’s horror when he had joshed concerning cars. He smiled. He was curious as to what she might think had she known that he drank helplessly, or did until very recently. He couldn’t imagine why he even cared what she might think; he met her once and was unlikely to see her again, at least not often enough to ever develop any kind of a meaningful friendship, he believed. He was confident in the belief that if ever they crossed paths again, it would be utterly random; yet what she might think did trouble him. It wasn’t long before sleep overcame him. He dreamt.
In his dream he had awoken to a bright and sunny day; however, as the day wore on, it seemed to darken an unnatural darkness and the final darkness that came to be wasn’t that of nightfall. Great and all-encompassing it was. The world around him had become devoid of light and life. So great was the darkness that he was aware of himself only by consciousness. Had he lifted his hand right before his eyes, it would have seemed as though he were without sight.