There I had my first good dream. I was in a wooded grove so much like this one, but purple flowers dotted the trees and there was a small lake of hot water. I put my hand in it and found it was very pleasing, almost perfect. On the other side of the lake, Robert was looking into the water with his reflection as perfect as his own face. His eyelashes almost touching the water, he turned and looked at me as if he really knew me. It was the first time he looked into me that way; this was when I knew I was in my own world rather than reality. My world’s language was way more pleasing than what reality had been translating to me, and so I instantly decided to remain where I was.
Robert and I rarely talk, even in my favorite dreams; maybe it’s because I haven’t heard his voice much and I’m not familiar with the sound of it. He didn’t talk much anyways; he had the habit of making short sentences by selecting only the necessary words. I approached him slowly and looked into the water near his own reflection, where…I didn’t have one. My side of the water had a clear picture of the blue sky with little clouds and two birds flying by. I looked into his beautiful light brown eyes whose pigment was lit by rays of sunlight. He smiled, and it made me feel a wonderful sentiment of happiness in my heart. Suddenly a horrifying thought came to my mind: Could I be invisible? Could he be looking through me? I looked behind me to see if there was anything that Robert was looking at, then looked at myself—I was okay, all visible. I went back to his beautiful eyes. His eyelashes were very appealing and unusually long so that when he smiled, the upper ones touched the bottom lashes and seemed even longer.
I closed my eyes with the intention to retain his image within my memory, and when I opened them I was back on the ground in the woods where my dream had initially started. I didn’t remember anything the first instant after I woke up, but I quickly picked up the bits of the dream. I always felt a little sad after I had a good dream, except for the times I dreamt of Mom. I stood up and looked above me. Somehow I always had the feeling that Mom was looking down at me. I started walking around and exploring the surroundings. I wasn’t sure what time it was, probably around noon. It was a little warmer than early dawn when I took off so I removed my jacket and tied it around my waist. Feeling a little hungry, I searched in my backpack but found only water. I drank the rest of the mini-bottle, which was less than half full.
In the nearby distance, I heard the sound of kids playing. I walked toward the sound until I reached a fence; I walked around it and entered some kind of a park. In the middle was a lake, and a few kids about Sam’s age were standing on the edge of it. It appeared their ball had fallen into the water and their game was interrupted. One little boy had a stick in his hand; he was stretched out and trying to reach the ball, which was floating on the surface. I came closer to watch and automatically started thinking of how they should catch that ball. It’s not in my nature to interfere in other people’s business, but the particular age of the children reminded me of my brother, and helping them felt like helping Sam. I approached the edge of the lake and touched the water; it was freezing. There was no way anyone was going to swim for it.
I started searching for a longer stick that could be broken, one tossed to the ground from a previous storm. It had to be long enough to reach the ball from the closest point where I would be standing. There wasn’t any. I then looked for a tree with low, thin branches to break. There was one close to the kids. I went straight to it and picked the thinnest branch I could find; it was hanging dead. Despite that, it was hard to detach it. I pulled harder and a little piece of wood broke off into my palm. I cried out with a painful gesture and quickly removed the little piece of wood. A few drops of blood spilled onto the dirt and a little on my jeans. I had no bandage so I placed my hand in my pocket and started walking toward the boys. Just before I reached them the kid with the stick lost his balance and fell into the water; his friends all started screaming in panic.
The boy had a hard time swimming, almost drowning. I had no time to think, especially when his friends looked at me with faces pleading for help—the stick in my hand was useless. I threw my backpack on the ground and jumped into the water, my heart almost seizing up at the cold. The water was very dark underneath and the cold was unbearable. Something was pulling me down; I had forgotten that I didn’t know how to swim. I fought my way toward the surface with only the intention of breathing. As I pulled myself up the wind crashed into my face and neck, ice cold.
I looked around and saw the little boy flapping his hands, hardly keeping his head out of the water. I knew I had to reach him, but the cold was blocking the order I had given my body to swim toward him and help him out. I was shivering so uncontrollably that I had a very hard time keeping myself above the surface, sometimes even failing. A few seconds passed in utter confusion before I heard another splash in the water. The kid was coughing like he had swallowed too much water; soon a male’s hand wrapped around my neck and held my face up. I was easily pulled out of the lake.
I breathed heavily while sitting on the grass, shivering and coughing. I looked around me. A bunch of guys were talking all at once and asking the kids what had happened. A tall guy dripping water from his hair leaned down at me.
“Are you okay?” he asked. His voice was shivery. Obviously it was he who saved both me and the little boy.
I nodded while trembling.
“It was stupid of you to jump into the lake,” he said, annoyed.
I turned hesitantly toward the voice beside me and saw a handsome face with a sharp, masculine chin and white, chattering teeth. We looked into each other’s eyes, both silently acknowledging the amount of cold we were feeling. I tried to say something, anything at all, with no success.
The guys had now wrapped the little boy with a jacket. I was hugging myself, trying to block the wind from making me any colder. I looked again at the guy beside me; he was brushing his hair away from his eyes.
“Thank you,” I said in a weak and shy voice.
He looked at me like he was angry, shook his head, and looked away.
“You should change,” he said, frowning at my wet clothes. “Do you live far from here?” He pushed his hair back again as he spoke.
“An hour and a half away,” I said. “Walking.”
“Wow,” he said with surprise. “Let me give you a ride. We are both wet so it’s not a big deal. I’ll need to blow dry my car anyways.”
I felt a little guilty; ruining his day was partially my fault. I decided not to look into his face again. He stood up and offered me his hand. I took it and quickly pulled my hand back once I was on my feet again.
“You’re bleeding!” he said, noticing the deep cut on my hand.
“It’s nothing. I cut my hand while trying to pull a branch off the tree.”
He pulled my palm toward his face and shook his head. “You need stitches!”
I looked at the wound. He was right; it looked bigger than what I had noticed a few minutes ago. The skin between my fingers was split in two and stretched all the way under my thumb. I immediately started noticing the pain from the wound. It was even more painful with the cold.
He pulled me by my shirt, walking me toward his car. His friends were carrying the little kid and running to get help. “How old are you?” he said.
“What? Nineteen,” I said.
“Don’t you know that when something like that happens you should call someone older?” He sounded furious.
I wondered how old he was. Why was he referring to himself as if he were way older? I didn’t want to ask him anything; he looked very angry and I felt guilty. I should have swum toward the boy and pulled him up; maybe I would have had him think of me in a heroic manner instead of treat me like a kid, pulling me by my clothes as if I didn’t know how to walk.
“I will take care of myself now,” I said, trying to sound brave.
“What difference will it make?” he murmured. “I have to take you to the hospital now.” He pulled me harder toward the car as if he were in a great hur
ry.
“You don’t have to do anything!” I loosened myself from his grip and looked at him angrily. “Let go of me.”
“You will freeze, stupid,” he almost shouted.
His face was red with anger; I almost felt like I wanted to cry. I held myself together and walked away. He followed me.
“You are acting childish. I’m very cold and so are you. You need to deal with your injury, and if you walk for two hours—”
“An hour and a half,” I corrected him.
“What?”
“An hour and a half,” I repeated.
“It’s the same!” he yelled.
“I don’t need you. I will walk, thank you.” I was definite, and nothing was going to change my mind.
“Well, the hospital is the other way.”
I stopped walking and stood still, shaking.
“If you don’t need my drive you can walk to it.” His voice was not steady, almost like he was about to cry too, I thought. I remembered that it might be because he was cold as well. In fact he was wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Maybe he had been exercising when he jumped in the water to help. He stood beside me, making an effort not to lose his temper again.
“Walk to the end of the street; take the second turn. It’s the second building on the left.” He turned and walked away toward his vehicle. It was a fancy black car, very dirty from the outside. He took off immediately and I was glad he was gone. I didn’t like angry people.
I walked to the hospital more hurt from his attitude than from my hand wound or the cold. I was very angry myself and hoped not to see him ever again. The hospital was a wide building, probably the biggest I’d seen around. I reached the entry and came in slowly, immediately attracting all the nurses’ attention—soaking wet from head to feet, not to mention my hand’s bleeding. One nurse ran toward me asking what happened. He observed my palm closely and assured me it was nothing serious. I nodded to everything he was saying, even when it was something I didn’t understand. He asked me if I wanted to call someone, and I gave him Elionora’s number. When I opened my phone I realized she had called me only like a dozen times. I asked him not to call her and thought I’d call her myself so she wouldn’t worry too much.
I didn’t feel much pain during the stitches. The nurses were very kind. In fact they were amused with my story and how I went down after the kid in the lake without thinking. One offered that I change into a dry nurse uniform instead of that of the patients. I liked the green outfit; I thought of keeping it for Halloween.
When I called Elionora she was crazy worried. I calmed her down and told her where I was. She left immediately.
Kevin, the nurse, walked me out to the corridor toward the waiting room; he had stuffed my wet clothes in a plastic bag. We both looked like professional nurses, only I was a tiny one. Suddenly I got an unpleasant feeling in my stomach as I saw the angry guy walking toward me. As our sight intersected we both froze, his face expressing rage. He was no longer wet but dressed neatly and carried a red rose in his hand. How did he change his clothes so fast, and why was he holding a rose? I didn’t know what to think. Did he follow me? Had he felt guilty for his immature behavior and come to apologize?
He tightened his lips angrily as I laid eyes on the rose he was holding, and immediately he started walking away. I felt so frustrated with him. Why would he come after me to the hospital with a rose and then walk away from me?
Kevin asked me if I was okay, noticing my tension. I nodded silently.
“Who is this guy?” I asked.
“Which guy?” He turned his face sideways scanning the area.
“The guy with the rose. Do you know him?” I hoped he had a positive answer.
“Oh, Eric, yeah.” He placed the plastic bag on the bench and continued. “Eric Green, he’s a kind guy. People don’t understand him, but if you come closer to him you’ll find out, you’ll understand it’s just normal.”
“Normal? Normal like he needs anger management lessons?” I thought he was angry and rude. Normal was not the correct description for Eric. I didn’t tell him that Eric was the guy that saved me and the kid from the lake; I was feeling very ashamed already. “Is he usually angry?”
Kevin laughed, his teeth so white against his black skin. “It’s just normal. He passed through a lot.”
“Really? What’s the deal with the...”
Elionora suddenly appeared from behind the door looking scared like crazy. She bumped into the table before she reached me. She quickly went down on her knees and addressed me with fearful, sad eyes.
“What have you done, Cassandra?”
“I’m okay really.” I touched her shoulder softly.
“Oh, Cassandra, you should be careful.” She looked at Kevin, who was standing near us. He assured her I was okay and explained what had happened. She kept looking at me with sad eyes and eventually smiled a little.
They made me promise to return the uniform the next day; Elionora promised to drop it off since I would be at the university.
During the first three minutes of the drive there was complete silence. Then Elionora started lecturing me with her Italian accent about how I should have reacted when the kid fell in the water. She asked me not to put myself at such a risk again. Suddenly she remembered to be angry at me for not answering her calls. I explained that I didn’t check my phone until I was in the hospital, but it didn’t make her calm down easily.
“Elionora, please don’t tell Dad.” I looked into her blue eyes hopefully. “He will be very worried, and you know he doesn’t need this on my first day.”
Elionora looked at me and didn’t reply. I knew I didn’t need to try convincing her; it was going to be in vain.
“Did you walk all this distance?” she asked, surprised.
“Yes. It’s not far when you have a lot to think about.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“Um…” I worried about what she would think of my answer. It would be stupid of me to say that I had too much on my mind. “Well, everything.” I smiled.
The rest of the day passed slowly. Sarah was waiting for me with a prepared speech as well. I think Elionora had asked her to talk me into being mature and not jump into things without thinking. My only real escape was by agreeing on everything they had to say and promising to act differently in the future.
During dinner Dad called. Even he had a few things to say, but he was neither scared nor too angry. I think Elionora did well in assuring him that I was okay. He only asked me to be careful and whether I wanted to come back to Paris. I quickly changed the subject by asking to talk to Sam, but Dad claimed that he was sleeping early. Sometimes it scared me to think that Dad had been making so much effort to put me on the correct road; I knew he had a lot to deal with and a lot to forget. I didn’t want to be more of a burden. I thought that leaving was going to give him more time to concentrate on everything he used to love, those things he had given up to be a full-time father.
Sam was unaware of everything around him that Dad worried about; he cared only to play with the boys his age every afternoon. I think the fact that Sam had no memories of the people we lost in the family made it easier for Dad to deal with him. I, on the other hand, reminded him of Mom. I knew that every time he looked at my face he saw how unhappy I was and it made him unhappy too. Together he and Sam were happier; they gave each other a reason to start anew. I was very happy to hear that Sam helped Dad bake cookies and that he took some of them with him to school for his friends. It took the attention away from my day’s events.
I walked with Sarah and Jack back to the room. They were talking about tomorrow’s big day at the university. Everyone seemed excited to have finished high school and moved on to something more grownup. I wasn’t feeling very eager; I had spent two years of my life not looking forward to anything. I was rather more nervous and scared. They talked about a teacher named Joseph and advised me not to take any courses with him. Jack said that he hated all students and o
bviously hated his own life too. He disliked everything and never smiled. I totally understood these people; they just wanted to be left alone. I wasn’t worried about him; it was the students I worried more about.
Late that evening when I was back to my room, Sarah had locked the main door hoping I wouldn’t notice it. Of course I acted like I didn’t. She kept the key in the door though. I think she hoped to be awakened by the noise of the door being unlocked if I ever decided to sneak out alone again very early.
“Tell me something, do you always wake up so early?” she asked.
“No,” I said, laughing.
“So what time are you planning to wake up tomorrow?” she said, half serious and half joking. “You know, so that I can set up my alarm. We can have breakfast together before going to class.”
I smiled at her. “What time should that be?”
“Seven fifteen?”
“Sounds good, Sarah.”
Soon she went to sleep. I thought a little about Eric. I wondered what Kevin meant by saying Eric had passed through a lot. I was eager to know why he was so angry at me and why he was holding a red rose. I couldn’t forget how pink his cheeks were as he stood looking at me with his beautiful green eyes in the hospital corridor. The weirdest part was the rose. I couldn’t think of any reason why he would be holding a rose in the hospital; I hoped it had nothing to do with me. Maybe I didn’t really hope that; he had me confused. How did he change so quickly and appear from nowhere like a ghost? He knew I was going to the hospital; it’s why he went there. Why else would he go there?
I suddenly thought of how tall he was; I was so short next to him. Sometimes I wished I was taller and that I had longer arms and legs. I wished my eyes were bigger, my lips were fuller, and my fingers were thinner. I didn’t think I looked very appealing—in fact not at all. Robert was much the same height, maybe slightly shorter. I liked the thought of Robert more; he was at least nice.
I searched for the dimmer again to keep some light in the room. I accidentally sat on my laptop, which was left at the bottom of my bed. I opened my inbox and found another email from Clara; she had heard of my accident today of course, through Dad, and said she was going to apply for late registration at the same university I had applied for. I knew that Clara couldn’t leave Paris; she loved it too much and had her mother’s boutique to attend to. It had opened just last summer, and their business was doing great.
Different Minds Page 3