by Avery Kirk
“It’s Wren. How are you doing?”
“Hi Wren, I’m sorry. I am-well, right in the middle of something. Can I call you back?” I cleared my throat again.
“Oh - sure sure. Talk soon.”
“Bye”
I went into the post office and walked directly over to the automated postage machine. Turns out it would be over fifty dollars to ship it overnight. I didn’t care. I needed to get it there as fast as possible. I swiped my card and paid for it. Picking up the box, I spotted the metal mail dumper that allows you to leave packages without speaking to a post office worker. I placed the box in the open space and lifted the handle to spill it into the back room. The box was too big; the cylinder wouldn’t turn to dump it. I held both of my hands over my face in misery. Then, I suddenly knew what I would do.
I picked up the box again and dropped it on the floor. Then, I stomped on it until it was nearly flat, tearing off the excess cardboard. I made sure that the address and postage were still readable, borrowed a mess of post office packaging tape to repair the torn cardboard, and placed my newly flattened box into the metal package dumper. It turned effortlessly and I heard the soft thud of relief.
Chapter 9: Disapproving Support
I walked to Harry’s place with a good size marker board under my arm. I bought it while at the drugstore with Kevin. We had pretended to be visiting from London and used fake British accents. The cashier busted us by asking a question that we answered in our very flat American accents, but Kevin smoothed it over by touching her arm calling her by her first name. She got all giddy with him.
I knocked before walking into Harry’s room, but when I remembered he couldn’t talk to give me the OK to come in, I just took my chances.
“Hi Harry.” I said, handing him the marker board. He turned the TV off and smiled at me. He reluctantly took the markerboard and pointed to himself.
“Yep, it’s for you. I saw it and thought of you. I got you a black marker and I brought you a shop towel from home.” I added.
I showed him how he could write on it and then wipe it right off. He looked thrilled and placed his hand on his chest to show his appreciation.
“You’re welcome.” I said.
Harry used his new markerboard to ask a question. It read ‘How are things?’
I looked at his question and my eyes stung. I shrugged and decided that I wouldn’t look at him. I gave him the rundown of all that had happened: more dreams, the phone call about the pre-paid trip, the fake homeowner, Vita’s phone call, and the t-shirt. All pointing to some random place in California. All unexplainable as far as I could tell.
Harry thought for a few minutes before he wrote. ‘Do you think that it could be someone playing a trick? A ruse?’
“I’m not sure what ruse is.” I said.
‘A plot or con’ the markerboard read.
“Oh, I have thought maybe that’s possible. But I can’t think of who would do that. You know? Go through all the trouble? And why?” I asked.
Harry shook his head slowly holding his chin with his hand.
He decided to write again. ‘Are you going to go?’
“I haven’t decided yet.” I answered without looking at his face. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that he wasn’t expecting that answer.
He took a few minutes to write this time. ‘Why not take the travel credit and go to the Bahamas with your Grampa? Nice getaway.’
“I have to think on it. I haven’t thought about any of it. On purpose I mean.” I said, looking down.
He studied me for a few minutes. I watched the man next to him sleeping. I watched his chest rising and falling and felt comforted by the sight of it. While I watched him, Harry wrote.
‘I caution you on suppressing your emotions habitually. It could have long term effects.’ He seemed prepared for a negative response.
I thought about his statement but I couldn’t help but fire back, “I don’t think I’m suppressing them. Just timing them better so I can manage them. I can’t handle an assault of situations to…process, so I just choose to ignore them until I have a better time to sort through them.” I said, slightly defensive.
He stared at me, expressionless for a moment before he wrote. ‘That’s OK as long as you do make time to deal with them.’
I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel like thinking about this right now. I guess I thought I’d just tell Harry what was going on and he would be a good sounding board. Now I felt like I had to explain the way I manage my own head. I decided to change direction and ignore his last comment.
“So, you don’t think I should go?” I asked, curious.
He shook his head the whole time he wrote in large letters ‘NO’.
“Why?” I asked.
He erased quickly and wrote ‘100 reasons’.
“What if I brought Kevin with me?” I said, quietly.
He wrote ‘WHY would you choose to go? What is to be gained?’
I sat still for a few minutes. I rubbed my hands together and concentrated on them. I looked out the window and watched the rain tap on the glass and slide down. I allowed the rest of the room to blur and focused only on the rain drenched glass. Finally, I found my answer.
“Because fear repulses me.” I said, abruptly.
Harry turned his head. He was quiet. Well, technically he was always quiet, but even the marker lay still now. We sat silently and the subtle smell of lunchtime circulated into the room. He picked up his marker. ‘Don’t leave yet.’
The dimpled girl delivered Harry’s lunch and smiled at me. Harry nodded to her in gratitude and turned to me when she left.
He wrote in large letters and for a split second I wondered if I would be less annoyed if I’d made him use his index cards and never brought him the markerboard. He turned the markerboard to me. ‘IT’S CRAZY’ it read. Then he held his pointer finger up in the air as if to tell me to wait. Again he turned the board back to himself and wrote. ‘BUT I understand.’
“You do?” I asked.
‘I’ve never wished more that I could speak again.’ He wrote, looking depressed.
“I’m sorry. If this is making you mad, I can go.” I offered.
He shook his head quickly and wrote ‘I just want to be sure you’re not in danger and that you are going for yourself. Hard to express my thoughts without inflexion. Frustrating.’ He underlined the last word.
I looked at him blankly. “Inflexion?” I asked.
The shop towel was getting good use today. He erased and wrote ‘Voice tones. Better for communicating meaning.’
I nodded big in understanding. I could see how that would be frustrating.
I decided to make my decision here and now.
As I reviewed each coincidence, I decided that the odds of each of those things happening to a single person over the course of only a few weeks was probably one in 10 Billion. Yes, I made that number up. But the fact that remained in my mind was that these events were probably not random. That put me in a position to either ignore the whole thing or jump in and see where the ride goes. Odds are, no one planned this for me to surprise me with anything. Murray didn’t-no way. My high school friends were away at college and too broke for this. My family wasn’t that creative, and that leaves Kevin. It just wasn’t his style. He was more the type to give me my Christmas present weeks before Christmas. And while Lanie was very understanding of our relationship, I doubt she’d think that Kevin buying me a trip to California was a good idea. There was just no way.
“I just decided that I’m going to go.” I announced to Harry, as I stood up to leave. He had been vaguely stirring his pureed food and looked up at me surprised. He grabbed his markerboard, looking a little defeated. ‘Will you come back and see me before you go?’
I zipped up my coat and replied “I sure will.”
We exchanged waves and he had a weird look of failure on his face. I almost felt bad leaving.
As I began to walk back home, I pulled my cell phone out an
d dialed the saved number to the Albuquerque travel agent, Margaret.
“Mundo Hermosa Travel Agency, Margaret speaking. How may I help you?” she answered, cheerfully.
“Hi Margaret, this is Amelia Harper, I just wanted to call to tell you who my companion is for the California trip.”
“Oh yes, Amelia, I remember. Let me pull up your account. Did you get it all figured out?” she asked.
“Yeah. You can put the second ticket under the name Kevin Banner.” I said.
Margaret confirmed the spelling of each of our names and looked up the ticket prices. Since I’d waited to call her back and we were within the two week mark, she informed me that the gift certificate amount would no longer cover the hotel at all, but she recommended that we use it toward airline credits for drinks and other stuff that the airline offers directly. So that’s what we did. I insisted that I would book the hotel on my own. Courageous or not, I wasn’t stupid. I’d rather pay for the hotel and go where ever I chose. Especially since I still had no idea who paid for this trip.
I knew that I’d put Kevin’s name on the ticket without first asking him. I felt a little uncomfortable with it but I’d deal with it. I didn’t need him to go. My thought was that if Kevin couldn’t or wouldn’t go, I would go alone. And I was fine with that as a possibility.
I walked home and went directly upstairs to my bedroom. I closed the door and threw myself the bed on my belly, letting my arms and legs sprawl out. My head hung off the bed slightly. I saw the corner of the dream book that Kevin’s mom had given me. I’d tossed it in on the dresser and it must have fallen on the floor. I picked it up-what the heck-I’d take a look. I flipped quickly through the pages and I saw Vita’s swooshy handwriting on the inside title page under the title:
‘Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy.’ Freud
I kept paging through. My eyes stopped on Leg, Missing: To dream that your leg is missing shows a lack of courage and refusing to take a stand.
I rolled my eyes and looked up something else from my crazy dreams.
Horse: To dream of a horse signifies strength and power. A white horse is a symbol for good fortune and purity.
Running: To dream that you are running means that you are uncertain of your future or avoiding a situation. You aren’t facing your issues.
Next.
Garbage: To dream of garbage is a sign of good fortune.
I looked up woman-thinking of the woman in the convertible. I also looked up man. For some reason I expected there to be a very clear definition for what it means when you dream about a horse turning into a man. Whatever. All it did was irritate me. The book went on to say that dreams can be interpreted many different ways. What the hell was the point of trying to interpret them then? I chucked the book on my dresser.
Just then it occurred to me. Dog. I had dreamed of a dog-twice I thought. I didn’t feel like it, but I got up and picked up the book as well as the picture frame I’d knocked over by throwing it. I was curious.
Dog: To dream of a dog or a barking dog indicates protection or guardianship.
I threw the book again.
Chapter 10: A Change in Plans
It was a early Saturday at about 1am. About an hour had passed since Kevin called. I listened to his message after my voicemail indicator kept waking me up. When I called him back, he didn’t sound good and wasn’t making a ton of sense. Although, I could barely make out what he was saying-it was so loud where he was. It was pretty much the first time he’d called me to pick him up from anywhere. Well, except that time I picked him up at the car dealership because they were keeping his car. But, that was different.
I put my hand on the door handle and hesitated a split second before tossing the door open. Immediately the combined smells of old beer, crappy cologne, cigarette smoke and an intensely floral stench rolled around me like a fog. Saturday night at the bar. I inhaled deeply and regretted it. When you’re wrecked, the smell doesn’t really bother you. I wasn’t wrecked.
The bar was not a fancy place. We would come here from time to time because Kevin’s friend was a bouncer. He wasn’t at the door-probably because it was so late. There was a two year old pop song blaring and a dozen or so girls on the dance floor bouncing with their arms in the air and makeup smeared. Some barefoot. Gross.
I was sure Kevin would be sitting at the bar, he was so damn social. Sure enough, he had a good people-watching position at the far end, facing the door. He wasn’t a sloppy drunk at all, still I knew him well enough to know the subtle signals of his body language. This particular pose typically meant he was seriously bummed. Normally, he’d be talking someone’s ear off or showing how well he really can dance. You typically don’t see a guy walk on the dance floor and throw down like he could.
I lowered my chin and started toward him, preparing for the worst on the way. He was very even tempered; I wasn’t sure why I was so uneasy.
Mike, the bartender, stopped drying his hands off for a moment and shouted, “Hey, Mel!”
“Hey, Mike.” I shot a look at Kevin. He hadn’t heard us. I walked up to Mike. He leaned over the bar with unnecessary gusto and kissed me on the cheek. “How is he doing?” I asked, with a nod toward Kevin.
“He’s pretty down. That guy he was with totally pimped him. Ass.” He said giving his head a backward jerk, mouth turned down. “Left with some girl. She was no catch, either let me tell you. Kinda raunchy if you ask me. I haven’t ignored him though, promise. Just been busy, you know….Saturday.” He said, with a shrug. “I gotta tell you though, I didn’t really throttle him. He said a little sheepishly. He asked, I brought. You know I always make ‘em tight for you guys but I was about to make them lighter when he switched to straight whiskey a few hours ago. Can’t help much there.” He pointed at me quickly, reminded of his job. “Can I get you something?”
“Yeah, dark beer. Surprise me.” I said, my eyes on Kevin. He made a clicking sound with his tongue and turned to get it. I walked the length of the long bar to get over to Kevin. I had to shimmy a few times and put my hand on a few people’s shoulders to pass them politely. The place wasn’t jammed, but the bar area was pretty full.
Kevin sat in the corner leaning a bit forward, a glass of water, two empty shot glasses, a glass of caramel colored liquid, and a plate of half-eaten hot wings next to him. He was peeling the strands off of a celery stick and had a small pile accumulating beneath his hands. He’d put on his clubbing gear, that’s for sure. French cuffs with silver cuff links on his crisp white textured shirt, his designer jeans that we picked out together, and square toed shoes. His hair was a mess at this point. I felt sad for him. I leaned on the bar right next to him, setting my hand on his back so I wouldn’t scare him.
“Hey you!” I said with a little too much enthusiasm.
“Hey.” he replied, sounding tired. His voice was coarse, like he hadn’t said anything for quite some time. His eyes were pretty squinty.
Mike walked over with my beer and set it down.
“On the house, honey.”
“Thanks, Mike. You’re a sweetheart.”
“You are, Mike. You are a sweetheart.” Kevin said, almost on top of my words while looking up at Mike. It sounded odd and while he had a glint of humor in his eye, his face remained serious.
Mike raised his eyebrows and smiled with his lips closed. “Thanks man. You let me know if you need anything, Kev.” There was a noticeable concern in his gaze.
Kevin was so lighthearted typically. I hated this. Sure, he was drunk before, but typically he was the fun guy. The guy who would tell everyone not to worry about the drive home, keep the momentum going. We’ll get a cab. All is good. Focus on the fun.
I took a gulp of my beer. It was good-Turbo Dog I’d bet. I enjoyed the bitter depth of it; its cool fizz was perfect. I held it in my hand for a moment, looking around. I could feel Kevin staring at me but I ignored it. I doodled on the frosty glass and was quiet. I wanted to stare at him, to be sure eve
rything was alright and ask him a hundred questions about what happened. What happened with his girlfriend, what happened with Eddie, what did the girl look like that he’d left with, was she drunk, was he-and where did he go. But, I didn’t want to seem overbearing so I let it go.
I took another drink of the beer and snatched a cold chicken wing after I was sure I could nab a nearby napkin for the stuff that would be stuck to my fingers. I wiped my fingers aggressively and felt his stare growing in intensity.
As I turned to look at him, he hooked his elbow around my neck and pulled me toward him.
“How are you Mel? How’s my girl doin’?” I smiled at him and looked into his bloodshot eyes. I noticed wing sauce on the side of his mouth. I was still holding the napkin and used it to wipe his mouth. He was nearly on top of me so this was a challenge. He smiled widely, no care in the least that he may have had that sauce on there for like an hour.
“I’m good. I’m good, how are you?” He touched our foreheads together and closed his eyes. “I’m actually really good. A bit tired, really. I’m so glad you weren’t busy. I’ve not realized how late it was. Is, I mean.” He was sounding sloppy all of a sudden. His eyes were still closed.
“What do you feel like doing?” I said, nonchalantly, slowly unlatching myself from him. I kept my left hand on his right knee, patted it reassuringly, and reached for my beer with my right. He was still leaning toward me with his eyes closed. He shrugged in response.
“Do you wanna head out now?” I said, figuring that he wasn’t paying too close of attention to my beer.
“Yes Amelia, I’m ready when you’re ready.” His gaze was locked on me intensely. I shied away from it, not sure what this was all about.
“Wow, all formal, eh? Do we…..” I looked for Mike, “need to grab the bill?”
“Ummm…..yeah, I think so. Mike!” He found Mike who looked over. Kevin made a giant signature motion in the air. It looked more like he was wielding a sword-badly. Mike gave him a quick nod and headed to the register.