by Dara Girard
"What are you doing?" Idris said.
"You speak English?" Marina said at the same time.
They both looked at the woman then each other with a mixture of fear and awe then their world went black.
5
When Idris Helmond came to, he didn't know how to feel. One moment he was thinking about closing a case on the brutal beating of a gas station attendant and finding the right gift to make his girlfriend, Deena, happy. She was pissed about something, but that wasn't new. She was always pissed about something and she wouldn't tell him why, she'd only let him know he was the cause. Then he'd seen the pretty young woman trying to find shelter for an older woman who looked strangely cunning.
He didn't know where he was or what to think. He looked around him and saw the neat road and manicured lawns of a neighborhood. The place felt familiar. He looked around and spotted a house--It was his sister's house. Beautifully decorated for the holidays. But he knew it wasn't like that now. That house was no longer hers. The scene was from three years ago. He shook his head in rising dread and took a hasty step back. "No, no. What are we doing here?"
"You have to be here," the older woman said.
"No, I don't. I know what happens. I don't need to be here. Let's go."
"Idris."
He threw up his hand, his voice in a near panic. "I said I don't want to be here."
"What is this place?" Marina asked.
"It doesn't matter, let's go." But the woman wouldn't release her hold and she had the strength to keep him there. "Get us out of here whoever--or whatever you are," he said in his best 'or you'll regret this' tone.
But the older woman didn't release him.
He turned and saw a woman march up to the front door as if on a mission. She flipped through the many keys on her keychain before she got the right one. She placed the key in the lock then turned the handle with an angry twist. "No. Don't go in there. Please." He turned to the older woman, feeling as if he could no longer breathe. "Make her stop."
"I can't."
"Then why did you bring me here?"
"Haven't you been playing this scene over in your mind for three years? Haven't you already remembered and replayed every detail? Isn't this the reason you won't see your nephews? Why you make excuses not to visit your parents every holiday season? You're here because this is where you're stuck. This is where you stopped your life too. Your sister got twenty-five to life, but you're living a life sentence by staying in a job you hate because it makes your parents proud. Staying in a relationship that is soulless. You chose this. When are you going to get past this moment? A moment that will never change?"
"She shouldn't have had keys to his place. Why did it have to happen? She was my baby sister and I couldn't stop her. "
"No. She was a woman who'd made a choice."
"I gave her the gun to protect herself."
"She used it for something else. Your sister couldn't except that her ex had remarried, that he'd created a new life for himself. Just like you, she couldn't move on. She was convicted because she hadn't snapped. She decided to pick up the kids early. She decided to catch her ex with his new love and she decided to shoot them both dead."
They heard a scream and then three pops.
"You couldn't have stopped it," the older woman said.
Idris fell to his knees, losing all strength, as if he'd been shot too. The awful part was the guilt. Her husband had been his best friend. He'd felt the loss from the divorce too. His sister had been married to Nathanial for ten years and he'd been a good father to their two sons. He'd been someone Idris had admired. He'd expected Nathanial to be his best man one day. He'd seen them as the perfect couple until the cracks began to show.
He remembered his brother-in-law complaining about his sister's drinking and shopping sprees. He remembered Nathanial getting full custody of the children. Idris understood the judge's ruling, his sister had become unstable, but he still had divided loyalties, even though it was best for the boys. His parents had remained blind wanting to see their precious little girl as the victim and Nathanial as the villain. But he knew it wasn't as black and white as that. Just like his nephews, his world had been shattered that day. He'd buried someone who'd been like a brother and lost his sister too. She was still bitter, even in prison. She still blamed the system for not understanding her rage. His parents blamed him for not seeing the signs sooner. For somehow not stopping it.
"The season had nothing to do with her choice," the older woman said.
"Really?" he said with a sneer. "You know the rates of murders go up around the holidays?"
"Was it the holidays that put the liquor down her throat or the gun in her hand?"
"She snapped because she felt so alone," Idris said trying to rationalize something he knew he couldn't. "She felt disconnected. It's a season that feeds discontentment. Domestic violence cases practically sky rocket. A time of good cheer my ass. People find even more reasons to hate each other."
"Remember when you and Nathanial took your nephews sledding? Remember the time when you both laughed at the instructions for putting together a racecar track? You had joy. That joy was real. It's okay to love your sister and hate what she did. Your friend wouldn't want you to throw away all the good times just for this moment. You have to get past this."
"I don't know how," he said his voice raw. He glanced at the younger woman, who stood motionless beside the other woman, wondering why he'd chosen to share this nightmare with her.
"You can do it by looking at this place one last time. And saying goodbye."
"My parents blame me and his parents won't talk to me."
"You shut Nathanial's parents out of your life as much as you have your nephews. And they miss you. Don't let the memory of their father die. You don't have to replace him. But make his life mean more than his death. Don't let your sister's bitterness rob you too."
A purple fog quickly swept over the scene and soon they stood in front of Nathanial's grave. A light dusting of snow fell from the blanket of white clouds, but Idris didn't feel cold. He didn't feel anything. He brushed the snow from the headstone then gathered some and let it melt between his fingers. He remembered introducing Nathanial to his sister and the instant attraction between them. He remembered his sister telling him about their first date. He remembered their wedding day and visiting the hospital when Nathanial held their first son and the pride and joy on his face.
Tears filled and stung his eyes as he recalled the fights, the tense phone calls, the divorce proceeding and then his sister's conviction. Both he and Nathanial had been detectives, determined to help and serve others, but hadn't been able to fix their own lives. Idris tasted the tears though he didn't feel them streaming down his face. "I'm so sorry," he said, then he felt the cold against his skin, the wetness on his cheeks. He felt his loss, his rage and his despair.
"He's forgiven you," the old woman said. "He wants you to know that. Now you have to forgive yourself."
Idris wiped his tears then fell to his knees feeling like a broken man. "I can't."
"Because you're afraid. You're afraid that if it couldn't go right for him, it won't for you. So you won't even try. But you're wrong. You can have the life you want. You know Nathanial knew there were signs early on that the relationship wouldn't work. He told you some of them but he chose to ignore them. I'm not saying he's responsible, but there are gray areas that none of you could see. Some you didn't want to see."
Idris nodded. "I know."
"Now say the name of his favorite holiday song."
"No."
"Say it, then say goodbye."
He shook his head. "It's stupid."
"Say it anyway."
He sighed. "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas."
Marina giggled then covered her mouth embarrassed, but Idris heard it anyway and couldn't help a smile. He'd forgotten she was there and he felt awkward that she'd seen him at such a fragile time. He was used to keeping his emotions bott
led up, but when he looked at her, he didn't feel that she was judging him and that made his awkwardness disappear. Made him glad he wasn't alone. "The idiot," he said with fondness. "He loved that song and knew all the words. He'd hum it just to annoy me."
"Sounds like a fun guy."
"He was. He loved the holidays. Everything about it."
Marina kneeled beside him and tentatively took his hand, half expecting him to pull away. "I'm sorry."
He squeezed her hand and released a deep shuddering breathe, as if he'd been holding it a long time. "Thanks."
"Do you really hate your job?" she asked.
"Yes, every single day I feel like I'm dying."
"Then why don't you change it?"
He sent her a look of surprise. "You think it's that easy?"
"No, but it's better than feeling like this."
"Tell her what you want," the old woman said.
He stood and dusted snow from his trousers although he didn't need to. Although the ground was powered with snow, his trousers remained dry. "No."
"Are you afraid to?"
"Yes."
"Tell her later then." The old woman turned to Marina. "Now it's your turn."
"I guess I don't have a choice," she said with a grimace before their world went black.
6
After seeing Idris's past, Marina prepared herself for a painful holiday memory. So when she saw the sight of her old bakery kitchen she couldn't help her surprise. She stared at the sight of the woman she'd been four years ago. The kitchen was small, all her new equipment that Eli would encourage her to purchase hadn't filled the room yet. She saw herself stirring something in a bowl and humming. She then scooped the contents into a tube and decorated cookies with a flair of fun. Her efforts weren't perfect, but she didn't seem to mind. Marina gaped at her younger self with wonder. She didn't remember even being that happy.
"What are we doing here?" Marina asked. "I already know I'm going to fail. I already know this isn't what I'm meant to do."
The old woman held up one finger. "Just wait."
Marina folded her arms, feeling impatient. She didn't want to wait. She wanted to leave. She wanted to go back to sleep and forget this day ever happened. She was about to comment to the fact when Eli walked into the room. Eli the man she'd thought she'd loved and who she'd thought loved her and her dreams. The man who'd told her he'd support her through thick and thin. The one who'd later embezzle her funds and leave her heart broken.
"What are you doing?"
"Working on a new icing."
He frowned "You're still trying that?"
"I want to make it work."
"You're wasting your time. Why don't you just focus on what will make money?"
For the first time Marina noticed how he hadn't greeted her and how much he didn't look pleased. Why hadn't she seen that before? He was only about making money. He didn't care what she did. He didn't care about her passion. She loved baking, she'd forgotten about that. She'd let him douse her hopes and leave an empty shell.
But the younger version of herself didn't know this. She gave him a taste of the icing.
He made a face and shook his head. "It's still not up to standard. You know you're no good at this. I told you to stick with simple things. Why won't you listen?"
"I wanted to give customers a new experience."
"This isn't a culinary institute. You're not making art. Just bake cookies and cakes and you'll be in the black instead of the red. Now let's go."
Marina saw the light in her eyes dim.
"Who is this jerk?" Idris said.
"The man I thought I'd marry," Marina said.
"Oh, sorry."
"Me too."
She saw her younger self watch Eli leave the kitchen and then she took all her experiments and dumped them into the trash.
"That was the moment you let him steal your dream," the old woman said.
Marina let her hands fall to her sides. "My dream failed. I failed. The business flopped. Even if he hadn't taken the money he was right, I was no good."
"But you were getting better. You stopped trying. You listened to him when you should have ignored him. He didn't support you. He lied to you and you believed his lies. What if you'd kept experimenting and one of them worked? You started to make your business just about money and not about joy. That was when you gave up on your dream. Your dream never gave up on you." The old woman pointed to the trash bin. "This is the moment you failed."
Marina twisted her lips and shrugged. "It's too late now."
The old woman took Marina's hand and patted it. "You're too young to start speaking like an old woman. Even if you were my age it wouldn't be too late to live with joy. To try. To dream." The old woman looked at Idris. "Are you ready to tell her what you've always wanted to do?"
"No."
She sighed.
"Why won't you tell me?" Marina asked. "We'll never see each other again. Are you afraid because you'll fail like I did?"
He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away.
Marina looked at the old woman. "I don't understand any of this." She glanced around the kitchen that was no longer hers. A past that still caused her pain. "Why are you showing us things we can't change?"
"Because that's the point. You can't change the past, but the future is yours. You don't have to be stuck here. The holidays are full of presents. Not just the gifts given to each other, but the moments you inhabit every day. They matter. The choices you make matter. Make your presents matter, then the future will belong to you. You just have to believe it."
Marina bit her lip then squinted at her. "What are you?"
"Does it matter?"
"Why couldn't I understand you before?"
"Because you weren't ready to."
"Why us?"
The old woman kissed her teeth with annoyance. "You ask such silly questions. Why not you? If I am a spirit or a ghost or your imagination does it matter? Those questions aren't important. The important question is: What will you do next?"
"Will we remember any of this?"
She just smiled.
Idris rested his hands on his hips. "What should we do next?"
Her smile just widened.
"I think that's all she'll tell us," Marina said. "This is what she did to me when we first met."
"I guess it's a sign that our journey is coming to an end."
"Yes." Marina glanced at his tie and had a strange urge to straighten it, but resisted. She lifted her gaze to his face. He had a nice face and she wished she could know him better. After Eli's betrayal, she hadn't wanted to know another man. "Whatever happens, good luck to you. I hope that you'll see your nephews this year."
"And you should keep baking, if it makes you happy."
"It does." She tilted her head to the side. "And what did you always want to do?"
This time he only smiled but for the first time she saw a twinkle in his eye.
"Fine, don't tell me. Good luck with that too."
"Thanks."
The old woman took both their hands and they shared a look--this time with hope and anticipation--then the world went black.
7
The phone call shattered a beautiful dream at 3a.m. on Christmas Eve. Marina groggily reached for the phone hoping that it would stop ringing by the time she picked up. It didn't.
"Hello?"
"I'm sorry to wake you," her mother said. "But I need you to pick up Uncle Sola."
"Who?"
"Uncle Sola. He'll be arriving at BWI and--"
"Mom I can't keep doing this."
"I know and I feel bad but I know you're off all week."
"Off?" Was she trying to be funny? She wasn't off. She didn't have a job.
"Yes, you and the boys are going to Delaware. Just this quick favor and I won't do it again." She gave the flight number and description then hung up.
Delaware? Boys? Her words vaguely made sense but then they didn't make sense at all.
Her mind felt as though it was between a dream and a wake state.
"What was that about?" a deep voice said beside her.
Marina froze. She knew that voice, but yet she didn't know it. And what was he doing in her bed? She slowly turned to him. Idris. Not the sad, tired Idris from the police station. He looked sleepy, but happy.
She pushed her sheets away. "I have to go pick someone up from the airport."
He frowned and put the sheets back. "No, you're not."
"My mother."
"Give me the phone."
"But--"
He reached across her, grabbed the phone and dialed. "Hi Mom. Sorry she can't make it. Tell him to take a taxi and I'll pay for the tab. Yes, I know. I don't care. Then get Wale to do it. Yes. Okay, bye." He disconnected and handed her the phone.
Marina gripped the phone in two hands. "What did she say?"
"Relax. You don't have to go."
He'd called her mother 'Mom'. Yes, because he was her husband. That felt right. Yes, they were married. Why had she ever imagined him sad? And she'd never been in a police station. Where had that thought come from? The dream state faded and everything became clear. They'd been married a year. He used to be a detective and now he was a real estate developer, raising his two nephews. She did catering: Sweet desserts. She wasn't making lots of money but she was happy and he always let her practice her experiments on him and the boys loved to be in the kitchen with her. She suddenly remembered snow ball fights and searching for a tree. But most of all she remembered meeting him one Christmas day.
He'd taken his nephews to a birthday party a friend had invited her to cater and their eyes met over a row of cupcakes and for her it felt like she'd known him from somewhere. Like they'd known each other forever. She still felt that way.
Marina settled back under the warm sheets. There was a question that niggled her mind. She didn't know why, but for some reason she wanted to know the answer. She had to. "What have you always wanted to do?"
Idris was slow to answer and at first she thought he may have fallen back asleep.
He hadn't. He felt as if someone had asked him that question before and he'd had a hard time answering. But now he wanted to. He looked around the cozy bedroom knowing his nephews were safe and asleep in their beds, the presents were under the tree ready to be opened. He could already taste the maple syrup covered waffles Marina would make for breakfast. He looked at his wife, his friend, unsure he could put into words all they'd asked for. He'd wanted to follow his heart and take care of his nephews, build a business that would support his family and find a woman he wasn't afraid to love. One he could trust. A woman who'd love him just as he was.