Meet Me in the Garden

by Rosa Sophia

  “Of course.” Joy sat down at her desk again, inviting Amalie to take the comfortable chair across from her. “How are things going, Am?”

  “I’m waiting for the results of my CAT scan. I’m trying to stay calm, just taking it one step at a time.”

  “Good. Please be careful.”

  “I will. I just wish I knew why I passed out.”

  Joy frowned and thoughtfully bit into a cookie. “How’ve you been sleeping? Stress can do it, you know.”

  “Yeah, the doc mentioned that. I have been pretty stressed out lately. Deadlines didn’t used to bother me, but when I can’t sleep properly it’s not easy to concentrate on editing. I swear, it takes me so much longer just to type an email because I spend half the time thinking that nothing I say makes any sense and the client’s going to think I’m nuts.”

  Amalie was aware of the dark circles around her eyes and the redness. Her body felt heavy all the time, and she was constantly fantasizing about the feel of a feather pillow against her cheek. But whenever she tried to sleep—

  “What’s keeping you awake at night, Amalie?” Joy asked, interrupting her thoughts. “You keep to yourself, but I know something’s bothering you. Why don’t you tell me about it?” Joy cocked her head, slipped off her reading glasses and set them on the ink blotter. “Are you embarrassed to talk about it? Because you shouldn’t be.”

  “It’s not that I’m embarrassed. I really should get to work.”

  “Work can wait. Don’t get up, talk. Tell me what’s on your mind. I won’t judge you, and you know that.”

  “I know,” Amalie said sheepishly, not wanting to offend her. “But it’ll sound so crazy if I say it out loud.”

  “Try me.”

  Amalie crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in the chair. “Okay. It’s not that I have trouble sleeping. Some nights I sleep straight through, and others I stay half-asleep most of the night. But either way I wake up exhausted because of my dreams. It’s like they’re real. I see myself walking around and doing all these things, but I look different, and I don’t know who any of the people are. It’s like I know them in the dream, but I’ve never seen them before in real life.”

  “Go on.”

  “All the dreams are about the same people. It’s been going on for so long I’m losing track of it. I don’t know how long it’s been anymore since the dreams started. And sometimes they happen when I’m awake. Something reminds me of…something I can’t put my finger on. It’s almost as if it brings on the pain, or maybe the other way around. It happened at The Breakers. I told Doctor Lee about this, but she said I’m probably just mistakenly associating the two. I wake up in the morning completely exhausted, like I just lived somebody else’s life, only—” Amalie paused, leaning forward. “Only it’s like it’s my life, a different life. Nothing makes sense.”

  Joy stood and came around to the other side of the desk. She took Amalie’s hands in her own.

  “You need to take it easy. Amalie, you know I care for you as if you were my own daughter. Dolly’s gone, and you and I have formed a close bond.” Joy’s eyes brimmed with tears for a moment, but she forced them away. “You’re also my employee, my star editor, and one of the best columnists and writers I’ve got. I know you’ve been through a lot in your life, and you haven’t always had support. But I’m here to tell you that you’ve got me. I want to see you succeed and find happiness. So if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know. In the meantime, let me know how I can help you with your work, maybe I need to move one of your projects to another editor or—”

  “No,” Amalie said firmly, glancing up. She gently squeezed Joy’s hand as she stood. “No, really, I’m fine. My work is important to me. I can do my work.”

  Joy smiled slyly as if she’d expected to hear that all along. “I know. I have a lot of faith in you, sweetie.”

  “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

  “Of course you won’t. Now get to work,” Joy added, winking. “The next issue of Island Time is due to be published next week. We have to have those proofs done.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Just as Amalie was stepping out the door, Joy called out, “Any luck finding a new apartment?”

  “No.” Worry twisted in the pit of her stomach. “None whatsoever.”

  ***

  Time passed quickly when she was editing. Amalie had worked other jobs—sandwich maker, cash register operator, bag girl—and when she’d been working those jobs, time always seemed to drag. But when she was editing or writing, everything flew by. At the end of the day, she often felt as though she’d been scrambling her brains in a frying pan, but she felt accomplished. She felt good about her work.

  She had lunch at a café and practiced staring into the distance across the street, daylight making her squint. She considered this her technique for strengthening her vision, because she figured six to eight hours in front of a computer would probably kill her twenty-twenty one day.

  She was glad to be back at her day job. Sitting at home wasn’t good for her—especially when she knew it wouldn’t be her home for much longer. When it was time to leave, Amalie crossed the small parking lot, spotting a familiar face. He was leaning against the rear of her Honda, his arms crossed over his button-down blue shirt, a sport jacket tucked under his arm.

  “Hey, don’t scratch my Lexus,” Amalie warned, trying to look as serious as possible.

  Garrett stepped away and peered at the aged vehicle he’d been leaning on. “Looks like someone already did some damage to this thing,” he noted, pointing at the rust spot that had turned the car from olive green to dirt brown.

  “Ha-ha, very funny. What’s up, Garrett?”

  “Nothing much. I haven’t really seen you since the party. I heard you were sick. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I have this pain in my face. Makes me feel wobbly sometimes.” She demonstrated by pretending to sway like a drunk, and then unlocked her car. “Nothing that can’t be fixed by a doctor, I’m sure, or if that doesn’t work, some pharmaceuticals.”

  “I’m sorry to hear, I mean, I hope everything’s okay.”

  “It’ll be fine. Still doesn’t explain why you’re lurking by my car.”

  “Lurking? Oh.”

  Garrett looked suddenly embarrassed, which was unusual for him. Amalie had always thought him incapable of embarrassment. On the contrary, he had seemed too full of himself to bother with such things. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  “What’s up?” Amalie repeated.

  “Well, I was wondering if you’d be interested in…getting together. I enjoyed your company at the party, and I was hoping maybe…”

  “No. I mean, I’m sorry, I’m just not interested.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Garrett turned toward his car, which was parked two spaces down. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work then.”

  “Sure. See you then.”

  As Amalie climbed into her car, she hoped she hadn’t sounded rude. Guilt washed over her and she almost climbed out of the car and stopped Garrett before he left. She noticed that instead of getting into his car, he just leaned against it as he lit up a cigarette. Amalie hadn’t been aware that he smoked.

  As she backed up and pulled out of the parking lot, she caught one last glimpse of him in the rear view mirror. For a brief moment, she thought he was watching her. Then he climbed into his car, and Amalie pulled away. By the time she got home, fed her cat, and made her dinner, she’d forgotten about the whole thing, not even worried that running into him at work would be awkward. After all, it wasn’t the first time this had happened.

  Garrett made her uncomfortable, and he always had, but she ignored it.

  Chapter 17

  Aside from manuscripts, the only thing Amalie read was rental ads. She was growing tired of making phone calls. Days went by and time was running short. If she didn’t find a place soon, Maine would be her destination. She thought of her father lounging in his tattered chair
in the living room, the smell of liquor on his breath. She didn’t want to return to that misery, that loneliness.

  Each day, she grew more anxious. She often had trouble getting to sleep despite the sleeping pills. As she stretched out in bed with her eyes shut, she was wide awake, thinking about rentals, Realtors, and wondering where else she could look.

  On a Friday afternoon, she left work an hour early to meet with a man who owned an apartment complex in Lake Park. It wasn’t an ideal location, but Amalie was running out of ideas. The ad had encouraged her:

  Special, limited time only. $650.00 / month, two bedroom, two bath.

  It was a good price for six-fifty, but she hoped it wasn’t too good to be true. Over the phone, the owner had insisted she see it herself, and had spoken so quickly in broken English that she hadn’t had time to ask too many questions.

  “It’s nice big place, you come see, big closet, plenty of room, nice porch. Be there five-thirty.” Click.

  The entrance left much to be desired. The concrete sign read Pleasant Way Apartments, and it was flanked by browning shrubbery that hadn’t been trimmed in quite a while. Tall grass was interspersed with trash thrown by passing motorists. Annoyed looking young men wore their pants below their asses and trampled the Styrofoam cups and candy wrappers. Amalie waited for a group of guys to walk by before she turned her car into the parking lot.

  She pulled up in the far corner of the lot, surrounded on all sides by drab looking two-story buildings. As she climbed out of the car, she glanced across the lot and saw two young kids tossing a ball back and forth. An overweight woman emerged from a ground floor apartment and called out in a crude voice, “Ey, you kids get on over here!”

  The kids ignored her.

  Amalie walked slowly across the cracked asphalt. Two parking spaces down, the engine of a shining white SUV went quiet. A dark skinned man of average height climbed out.

  The landlord rushed her through the place, and the first thing she noticed was the kitchen was made of cheap particle board. Before she could tell him what she was really thinking, he hurried into another room and spoke rapid-fire, telling her about the amenities, showing off the walk-in closet, and generally glossing over anything that looked as if it needed to be fixed.

  Amalie was pretty sure she saw cockroach dung on the yellowed linoleum.

  As they passed through the kitchen again on their way out, she looked at the fridge, which was big, clunky, old, and covered with an ugly rust patch.

  “The fridge—”

  “Oh, wonderful fridge, good!” the man interrupted shrewdly. He opened it a crack and then quickly closed it. “Keeps everything very cold, it holds a lot of food for the big meals you will make.”

  For a brief moment, she flashed back to the dinner Ian had made her. She was surprised and embarrassed by her own thoughts, as if she were speaking them out loud, broadcasting them all over town.

  I’d be happy if I never had to cook again, if that man would cook for me for the rest of my life.

  “Plenty of room here for lots of comfort!” the landlord exclaimed.

  Dear God, am I really thinking that about Ian? And if this guy likes the apartment that much, he can keep it.

  As they walked out into the sunlight, Amalie shook his hand and thanked him for his time. She carefully folded the rental application, making a show of seeming impressed by what she’d seen.

  “Very nice!”

  Once she was in the car and out of earshot, Amalie started the engine and realized she felt like crying. She pictured Maine again, and her father. She imagined being back in her old bedroom. It would mean losing her physical job and going back to being a remote employee. Happiness was difficult for Amalie. Very often, she wasn’t sure she knew what it was. But she knew deep down that if she returned to Cliff Island she would never figure it out.

  “I can’t go back to Maine,” she mumbled, taking a deep breath. “I just can’t. I can’t…I can’t handle it.”

  She gripped the steering wheel and slowly backed up the car, blinking away the tears that threatened to blur her vision. As she straightened her car and headed back through the parking lot, she watched the sun glimmer off the flawless chrome of the slumlord’s brand new SUV.

  “I can’t live like this,” Amalie whispered. “No way.”

  ***

  The sun made the pond the same color as the sky. Amalie marveled at how everything reflected off the water. She snapped a few pictures with her camera, hoping to get the double image of the trees, the reflections that wavered on the surface.

  “It’s so beautiful.” Amalie turned off her camera and tucked it back into her pocket. “Thanks for inviting me here, Ian.”

  He stepped across the wooden planks of the pavilion that overlooked the pond, then leaned against the railing and peered down into the water.

  “I knew you’d like it. I take a lot of pictures here.” He turned on his high-end Nikon and scrolled through a few photos of falcons, ibis, and a snake bird, that he’d taken during his last visit.

  “Your photos are amazing. You could be a professional photographer.” Amalie grinned. “I mean, I bet if you really wanted to, you could get into design…book cover design.”

  “I’ve thought about it, but I’d really like to stick with my job as a pizza delivery boy,” Ian joked.

  It had been two weeks since Amalie’s visit to Pleasant Way Apartments. Since then, she and Ian had discovered they had a common interest—hiking. Palm Beach County was full of parks to visit, and each one was magical in its own right. But Frenchman’s Forest was different. As usual, Amalie could feel exhaustion pressing against her forehead, as though someone held their hand there, coaxing her to sleep. She could have slept, but she knew it was fruitless to try. Instead she spent that Saturday afternoon with Ian, wandering along grassy paths and letting the light wind whisper past her face, rustling tree foliage and long lengths of sawgrass that grew straight out of the mucky marshland in the center of the woods.

  The forest. It reminds me so much of my dreams.

  About an hour into their walk, they had spotted a hawk perched in a nearby tree. They stopped talking so they wouldn’t scare the bird, and crept slowly along the path, both holding their cameras at the ready.

  At the last moment, the hawk had taken flight, its wings flapping against leaves as it made its way into the sky. Ian lamented the loss of a fantastic shot, and Amalie was grateful she’d been enjoying the sight of the creature, watching it take off, and listening to the brief sound of its wings beating, rather than messing with the settings on her camera. She tried to memorize the moment, to freeze-frame it in her mind forever.

  She also realized she was trying to memorize Ian—the way he looked as his slim frame moved slightly to the side to get a better shot of an ibis near the pond, the way his dark sunglasses slipped down his nose as he scrutinized a focal point, and the way his brow furrowed and his face took on a seemingly grim expression when he was deep in thought.

  They walked beneath the canopies of live oaks, and admired the majestic sight of the sabal palms reaching toward the azure sky.

  After a long silence, Ian lowered his camera. They had since wandered away from the pond and were now standing on the boardwalk that led over a mangrove swamp.

  “How’s the apartment hunt going?”

  She thought she detected apprehension in his voice. Tucking his camera to his side, he leaned against the wooden rail, close to Amalie. She frowned and peered into the swamp, where cypress knees poked up from the muck, their gnarled intricacies making them resemble small people.

  “I haven’t found anything,” she said reluctantly. She went on to tell him about the horrendous experience she’d had at Pleasant Way. Amalie turned and looked at Ian. They were less than a foot apart. When she realized this, nervousness rose in her chest and she glanced away. She couldn’t see his eyes through those dark sunglasses, but she knew he was concerned.

  “I don’t want you living in Riviera
Beach, Amalie.”

  “You say that as if you can do something to control it.” Her voice trembled. Fear rose in her chest, mixed with the comfort she felt whenever she was around Ian. The emotions he instilled in her were confusing at best, and it made her feel panicked. She had no idea how to respond to them—how to respond to him. She was too shy to do what she really wanted, press her body against his, and feel his arms around her.

  “Riviera Beach is a shithole, Am.”

  “It could be worse. If I have to move there, I’ll just be careful and I’ll keep my doors locked all the time. I won’t go out at night.”

  “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

  “No.” Amalie felt her face flush. “It’s supposed to reassure me.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I guess I’ll have to move back to Maine if I can’t find a place here. I don’t want to leave, but I won’t have much of a choice. They say now is the best time to buy, but I don’t have enough saved up for a deposit on a condo. I don’t know what to do, Ian. I was trying to get used to the idea of living in a crappy apartment building in Riviera. I looked around West Palm, too, but there’re places that are much worse than Pleasant Way. Anything that’s in a nicer part of town, I can’t afford. I just…I just don’t know what to do.”

  The heat of the day seemed to increase tenfold when Ian sidled closer to her. She felt his hand on her back, moving in gentle reassuring circles against her sweaty tank top. As she stared down at the ground below, he moved closer. He touched her face, gently turning her head so she was looking right at him. While she’d been looking away, he’d taken off his glasses and hooked them onto the front of his polo shirt. For a brief moment, she saw his icy blue eyes and her body trembled. A current of energy passed between them and Amalie experienced something she’d never felt with anyone else—

  Safety.

  Within a split second, time seemed to alter its course. An intense familiarity crept over her. Images from her dreams flashed across her mind. Ian closed the distance between them and tipped her head up toward his.