Dream Sweet

by Terence Matedero

  “Anyone can get a business card printed to say anything they want to,” he said.

  “Really, Frank? That’s what you come back at me with? You might as well tell me that I’m full of shit. I know I was right here. I know this was the pharmacy. You stay here until she comes back out. I’m going to go look in the backroom.”

  Frank nodded as I walked toward the back. I reached the door and pulled on the handle. It didn’t move.

  “You can’t go in there sir,” the woman said from across the room.

  I continued to pull again and again. The door wouldn’t budge.

  “Sir, please stop. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Her voice was cracking.

  “But I know this is the place” I said as I pounded my fist on the door, both in frustration, and with intent of getting someone’s attention behind the door that might open it from the other side.

  Frank grabbed me by the shoulder. “Come on, Howard, let’s go. She’s gonna wig out on you and call the cops if we don’t leave right now.”

  “But, goddamn it! This is the place, Frank, don’t you believe me?”

  “Let’s talk about it outside, okay?” Frank said, as his grip increased on my shoulder and his lower jaw protruded, baring his canines.

  “Fuck!” I screamed as I pounded my fist once more on the door and turned to walk out of the shop. “You’re hiding something, lady. I don’t know why, or what, but I know you’re hiding something!”

  “Ma’am, please forgive us. He hasn’t been feeling well, lately,” Frank added, as he forcibly guided me out into the street. He opened the Jetta’s door, pushed me into the seat and said, “Let’s go, dammit,” before he slammed the door and went around to the driver’s side door.

  The woman stood at the entrance and stared at us as Frank backed the car out of the parking space and put it into drive.

  She smiled at me.

  “Did you see that, Frank?” I pointed at the door.

  “Oh, shut up, will ya’?”

  “But, she…”

  “I don’t care, Howard,” he said as he continued to look straight ahead.

  26

  Frank pulled up in front of my house. Kate’s car was parked out front which told me that she had made it home from school. Her window was open which told me that she at least went into her room. Both the garage doors were closed, which told me nothing. And, Frank didn’t say much the entire way there.

  “Thanks for coming with me, Frank.” I said.

  He turned to look at me. Shook his head, and replied, “Yeah, sure. Sorry I was such an ass back there, but man, you got to stop doing shit like that. First you hit a lady you’ve never met; now you’re going off on some other poor woman you’ve never met. Do you want to wind up back in jail, man?”

  “No, sorry. I just knew that was the place, Frank. Why it isn’t there anymore is…”

  “You know, so what if it isn’t there anymore? Say it was; say you’re telling the truth. What difference does it make now? You can’t talk to Gerald if you can’t find him. We went there to talk to him, not cause a big stink. Did you happen to try the phone number on the business card before we went over there?”

  “No, but that’s a good idea,” I said as I took my phone out of my pocket, along with the card, and dialed the number that was on it.

  It rang three times then a woman’s voice said “GE Heating and Air, can I help you?”

  I threw my phone against the front window and it bounced off the dash into Frank’s lap.

  “Hey, what the fuck. Don’t be throwing shit in my car,” he snarled at me.

  I got out of the car and walked toward the door.

  “Howard, you forgot your phone,” Frank said out of the car window.

  “Keep it,” I replied as I unlocked the door and went into my house.

  Kate was sitting in the living room watching television when I entered. There was a bowl of popcorn next to her on the couch, a bag of chips, and a liter of coke that she must have picked up on the way home.

  “Hey, Kate. What ’cha watching?” I asked her.

  She turned to look at me and replied “Nothing.” The corners of her lips were turned down, her eyes were watery and red, and her face was wet with tears.

  I walked over to the couch and sat on the other side of the bowl of popcorn. Kate looked back at the television. The commercial was over and Ellen’s show was back on. “Are you okay, honey?” I asked her.

  She continued to look at the television. “Not exactly, Dad. Should I be? I mean…”

  “I know, honey. That wasn’t exactly a fair question. Sorry.”

  She looked at me and gave me a patronizing smile.

  “How was school today, Kate?” I asked.

  “I didn’t go today.”

  “Well, that’s okay, but where did you go? You were gone when I woke up this morning.”

  “I know, I was with Mom,” she replied.

  The pain of the conversation that I had with Donna the prior evening came rushing back to me. “How’s your mother? Is she coming home anytime soon?”

  She looked at me, her lips pouted. “I thought you guys talked about it.”

  “We did, sort of. I mean, what do you know about it?”

  “She told me that you guys were getting a divorce and that she was moving into her own place.”

  “Well, that’s rather presumptuous of her, I should think. But, if she is moving out, where are you going to stay, Kate?”

  The tears started flowing down her cheek. When she looked at me, I saw my baby girl. My daughter, who depended on me. Who needed me. “I don’t want to go anywhere, Dad,” she cried.

  I moved closer to her, put the bowl of popcorn on the table, and put my arm around her. “It’s going to be okay, Kate,” I said.

  “Oh, Daddy,” she sobbed, as she wrapped her arms around me. “It’s never going to be okay, again, Daddy. It’s never going to be okay.”

  There was a knock at the door, Frank opened the door and said, “Yo, Howard.” It didn’t take him long to ascertain the situation. “Uh, I’ll come back in a few,” he whispered, and closed the door on his way back out.

  “Shhhh, honey. You don’t know that,” I said to Kate as Frank came and went. She didn’t notice him, or didn’t care.

  “But, but, Brandon is dead, Mom is moving out, you and her are getting a divorce…”

  I hugged her tighter. “Honey, your Mom wants a divorce, not me. I haven’t said anything to that effect. I think that she is upset from everything that has happened the past few weeks, and maybe she’ll see things differently after a while. Sometimes it’s just good to get away and be by yourself for a while, you know? And even if she wants a divorce after everyone starts to heal from all of this crap, then I can’t stop her. You’ll come out of this okay. I’ll come out of this okay. We both might need some help coping with all the loss and change, but I will help you in any way I can, honey. We can help each other.”

  I kissed the top of her head and continued, “I am so sorry about everything that happened. I wish I could turn back time and make things different, but I can’t, honey.”

  As you may have guessed, I haven’t been myself since the night of the accident. I did finally have a breakthrough last night as far as remembering what happened, but I still need help dealing with everything.”

  I wasn’t going to tell her anything about Gerald, the sleeping pills, the disappearing pharmacy, and stuff. The poor girl was dealing with too much as it was.

  “And we can go together, too. I’ll help you, you can help me, and we will both be okay eventually. The only thing that is certain is that Brandon is not coming back. One thing at a time, Kate. We have to deal with that. We have to somehow find a way to get on with our lives. If and when your mother files for a divorce, we’ll worry about that, until then, one thing at a time, okay honey?”

  Being a parent, I always found it easier to handle pain and sorrow when I knew that one of my children were experiencing t
hat same level of pain or sorrow and had little if any experience with it. To lose someone you love, especially in a violent horrendous way is unfathomable to a young person. It’s unfathomable to many adults, too, but when you are the parent, you have to be strong for your child. It’s not so much that it is easier to handle, it’s easier to suppress it and then deal with it later, when you have the time. My child came first. My wife actually came first, then my children, then me. I had to be strong so that everyone else that I cared about and loved could make it through the hard times with my complete support. Granted, I felt like absolute dog shit at that moment. But, I couldn’t let Kate see that. I had to help her more than I had to help myself just then.

  ~

  I went outside to see if Frank was still there. He was sitting on the porch.

  “Hey, old man, what’s up?” I asked.

  He gave me a shrug and said, “I’m sorry, Howard. I act like I don’t know what you’re dealing with right now. I just came back in to give you your phone and saw you and Kate on the couch. I’m sorry about getting upset in the car.”

  “Come on, Frank, say no more,” I said as I sat down beside him on the stoop. “You getting mad at me for a good reason is the least of my worries. Did you know that Donna wants a divorce, now?”

  Eyes wide open, he shook his head and replied, “Shit, man, really? You told me this morning that she said it was over, but you didn’t say it was that final, yet. I mean, you know how long it took Liz to finally decide that she wanted a divorce. It’s usually all spit and fire in the beginning, then things cool down before the final drastic measures are taken. Well, at least with my wife.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. But, it’s just such a nasty fucking thing to do to Kate right now, you know? I’m sure she’ll never forgive me for staying in the mountains when I knew there was a bear there, hell, I’ll never forgive myself, but does she have to push Kate further down by moving out and asking for a divorce practically the same day that her brother was killed?”

  “Murdered, you mean?”

  “What did you say?” I looked at Frank and he sat as if he didn’t hear a word I said. “Yo, Frank.”

  He turned his head toward me and replied, “What?”

  “Did you just say something to me?”

  “No, I was talking about Liz and you started talking about Kate, why?”

  “Because, really, I’m tired of this. This is the third time it’s sounded like you said something to me and you deny that you did. You’re not the only one either.”

  “Well, I didn’t, Howard. What is it you think I said to you?”

  “If I am going to get to the bottom of this, I am going to have to be as open with Frank as I can,” I thought to myself, then I told him.

  “This is the second time you referred to Brandon being murdered, and once at the work site you flat out called me a murderer.”

  Frank’s chin hit his chest. “Say, what?” He started to shake his head with more and more emphasis. “I did not say any such thing to you, Howard. You are the best friend I’ve ever had. Why would I want to say something to you like that? Even if I was totally joking, I wouldn’t say something like that to you.”

  “I know, Frank. I know. I thought the very same thing. I never actually believed that you would say the same things to me that Gerald would. Well, Gerald actually did call me a murderer. But, I’m going to be frankly honest with you, okay? That’s what it sounded like, and it was very real. Now, I ask you, what the fuck do you make of that?”

  “You know, man. You don’t have to keep trying to convince me. I believe you about this Gerald guy, and the pills, and the drinking, and the dreams, and all that shit. What happened when you called his number?”

  I told him about the same lady that we’d just talked to answered the phone and announced her business.

  “You’re shitting me, right?”

  I just shook my head.

  “Well, yeah, I was just being dramatic,” he said and smiled. “My question is the same as it was this morning. How are we going to find this guy? This isn’t something we’re going to be able to Google, you know? Where would you start? I mean, we are going to have to do something, but what?”

  We sat without speaking for a few moments. The wind was freshening a bit since I came outside. I noticed storm clouds coming in from the west. Someone in the neighborhood had recently cut their grass. Its smell was soothing. It was real. It made me come back to the present. It made me accept the idea that this was really happening to me. I could only blame so much of it on the aftermath of a head injury. Hell, I was beginning to think that I couldn’t blame any of it on my head, except for the amnesia.

  As far as I knew, from the time that I was comatose, until I woke up in the hospital, no one messed with me except the doctors and nurses. I couldn’t blame Gerald for my amnesia. I was beginning to wonder if he had just about everything to do with everything else that has happened since I stood face to face with him. I was beginning to believe that this nightmare was his doing. “But how?” I asked myself. “Is it Voodoo, black magic, witchcraft, some satanic cult, what?” I might have had a good imagination, but I was pretty cynical when it came to the dark arts.

  “There comes a point when coincidence after coincidence proves otherwise,” I said.

  “Huh, what did you say?” Frank asked.

  “Oh, did I say that out loud? Yeah, well, I’m just thinking to myself that after so many coincidences happen so close together, can you really consider them coincidences anymore, or are they fate, or are they some other intervention into your life?”

  Frank stood up and said, “Yeah, you know, Howard, I am going to take the rest of the afternoon off and we are going to go into your den and do search after search after search until we find something that has to do with what has happened to you or somehow we can get hold of this Gerald. What do you say?”

  I nodded and got up.

  “Lead the way.”

  27

  “Have a seat, Frank, and I’ll open the curtain to let some light in and throw some of this trash away.”

  I had not been in my den since the last time I spent the night researching Gerald Evans. I mostly researched multi-car pileups that night, but it seemed like I’d spent a lot of time in that room recently because of Gerald. I liked my den, very much, but it had started to have an unsavory atmosphere to it. The last time I was in here, I also had a horrendous nightmare, and, well, I didn’t feel comfortable in there, or in my bedroom, or in the living room, or downstairs, for that matter. I was slowing running out of rooms that didn’t have an unsavory atmosphere.

  “Oh, hey, if you want, you can get my laptop out of that bag leaning on the side of my desk and fire it up. If you use that, while I use my PC, we can search and read twice as fast.”

  “Good idea,” he replied, as he moved toward my desk before sitting down.

  I pulled open the blinds and opened the window a bit to let the plethora of smells out of the room from the rancid food and drink that had been left there for days.

  “You want something to drink, there, Frank?” I asked without awaiting an answer. “Spirits or non?”

  “Sure, whatever you’re having.”

  I made my way to the wastebasket next to my mini-fridge with an armload of garbage, and after dumping it, opened the cupboard above it, removed a bottle of Seagram’s, grabbed a seven-up from the fridge, and made a couple of drinks.

  When I sat down at my desk and handed Frank a drink, he asked, “How do you spell the man’s name again. Is it with a J?”

  “No, it’s not with a J, you idiot. When’s the last time you saw Gerald spelled with a J?” I asked and smiled.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s G-E-R-A…” The phone rang.

  I picked it up and was perplexed as to what the caller ID showed. I handed the phone to Frank. “GE Evans,” he read. “Now that’s just freakin’ too weird. Want me to answer it?”

  “Sure.”
/>   He did.

  “I’m sorry, but he’s not available. Can I help you?”

  I held out my hand and mouthed the words, “Give me that!”

  He shook his head and held up one finger. “Oh, you do, huh?” he asked, and as he covered the mouthpiece with his hand, and whispered to me, “He says that he knows you are here.”

  I was still holding my hand open in front of him and as I looked at it, he put the phone in it.

  “Hello.”

  “Mr. Cushman. Why do you want to play games with me, sir?”

  “I’m sorry, who is this?” I asked.

  “You know who it is, you read the caller ID.”

  “How the fuck do you know that?” I spat at him.

  “Now, there’s no need for profanity, Mr. Cushman. If you’d like, I can hang up and leave you right where you were, frantically searching for clues.”

  “No, wait, sorry. Um, please don’t hang up, okay?”

  The phone was silent for a moment.

  “Hello,” I said again.

  “I’m still here, Mr. Cushman.”

  “Oh, good.” I was relieved.

  “As long as you behave yourself, I will stay on the line.”

  “Thank you Ger.., I mean, Mr. Evans.”

  “Mr. Cushman?” he asked.

  “Yes?”

  “What did I tell you right after I gave you your medications?”

  “Uh, well, I don’t remember, exactly.” I lied.

  “Yes you do, Mr. Cushman. When I handed you your sleeping pills, I told you to make sure that you didn’t take them with alcohol. Do you remember?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mr. Cushman, I have no time for games. I am only calling you out of the goodness of my heart.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me, right? The goodness of your heart?” I spat at him. I felt like throwing that phone against the wall, also.