Seer

by Robin Roseau

  We teased each other back and forth for a while. Both Solange and Aubree were quite different when away from work, and I was having a very good time. From the laughter, so was everyone else.

  Finally Dolores started shoving serving bowls of food at us and told us to carry them to the table. We sat down, two on a side, and Solange praised the food. Conversation remained light-hearted and fun, and I believe anyone who had been nervous had long begun to relax.

  A half hour later found us in the living room. The card table was already set up and prepared, and we all had fresh drinks. “I haven’t made any decisions about partners,” Dolores said.

  “Partners?” Solange asked. “If there are partners, then Sidney and I are together.”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. I explained the rule for our monthly game. Solange frowned.

  “I do not care for this rule.”

  “Tough,” I said. “Several of the couples bicker if we let them partner together, but it is unkind to bluntly say so.”

  “None of those couples are here tonight,” Solange pointed out.

  “Are you sure?” Dolores asked, looking between Solange and me. Aubree scoffed.

  “Anyway,” I said. “We rotate every few games. I believe we should do that here, although it would be unfair to you if Dolores and I partner together.” I turned back to Dolores. “Cut for first partners?”

  “Sure,” she said. She shuffled the cards and spread them out. She and I each drew a card, then we nudged Aubree and Solange to each draw one.

  Aubree had a jack; Solange had an eight. Dolores and I both drew tens, so we discarded them and drew again. I got a king to her four.

  “Aubree and I,” I said. Dolores and I took seats next to each other, and I pointed to the seat opposite me. “Aubree, you are there, and we are partners.”

  Solange took the final seat, but said, “I do not understand what just happened. You let the cards pick Aubree for your partner instead of me?”

  It was Aubree who explained. Solange looked frustrated, which I didn’t completely understand.

  “Solange,” I said, “if we play as partners, then we test our combined wits against that of Dolores and Aubree.”

  “As we should,” she declared.

  “But if we play this way, then you are able to test your wits against mine.” I smiled. “Besides, we will partner together in a few games.”

  After that, Dolores and I took turns explaining the game. She had already written out scorecards for both of them, showing them the bidding point system. We played several hands open, our cards face up on the table for everyone to see and not keeping score. And then we played a few hands closed, but still didn’t keep score.

  “I think they understand,” I said to Dolores.

  “The mistake I’ve made in the past is not putting the bowers in the right place,” she replied. “We’ll remind them for a few hands.”

  It was interesting to watch the play. Dolores and I played with confidence, of course. I’d been playing card games all my life, and I thought Dolores had as well. I didn’t think either Aubree or Solange could say the same, and I almost wondered if Solange had never played cards before. Aubree played tentatively, but she had fully caught on. Solange played slowly and deliberately, but she played well for a beginner. But she was very quiet, and it was clear she was concentrating quite hard.

  At one point, I laid down a card and then turned to Solange, seated on my right and the last to play. “I’ll take that last trump you’re holding.”

  She picked the card out and played it, but then said, “How did you know?”

  “I’ve been counting,” I said.

  “What do you mean, counting?”

  “There are thirteen trump,” I said, then I pointed out how they had been played. “And of course, I just told everyone else I still have two left in my hand, but Dolores already knew it, and my partner may have.”

  “I didn’t,” Aubree said. “But I understand now, too.”

  “You pay attention to who plays what for the entire hand?” Solange asked.

  “As well as I can. It’s critical to count and it’s good if you can count the other suits. The more you are able to keep track, the better you’ll do.”

  “Don’t play yet,” she said. She looked away in the distance. I saw understanding come into her eyes. She smiled. “I think I’m going to like this game.” We clasped hands.

  “You two are so cute,” Dolores said.

  “Cute?” Solange asked. “I am not cute.”

  “I didn’t say you were cute. I meant so say the interaction between the two of you is cute. Wouldn’t you say, Aubree?”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “And it’s about time she started dating.” She gestured to Solange.

  “You guys do realize our first date was yesterday, right?”

  “Sparks began flying that first dinner we had together,” Aubree said. “You could barely take your eyes off each other.”

  “That’s hardly true,” I said. “Is it?”

  Aubree laughed and turned to Dolores. “They are both strong-willed, and there will be fireworks of both the good and bad kind in this relationship, but if they learn to fight fair, it will be a marvelous relationship.”

  I shook my head. “It’s a fledgling relationship. She’ll get bored with me in a week or two.”

  Dolores and Aubree just smiled, and Dolores told me to lead.

  We played three games with these partners. Aubree and I won the first game. Dolores and Solange went out backwards the second game, but they won the third game.

  “Dessert and switch,” Dolores said.

  “Tiramisu?” I asked with hope.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t have enough warning. I have ice cream.”

  “Oh, Solange can talk to you about ice cream,” I said with a grin.

  * * * *

  “I liked Dolores,” Solange said in the car later.

  “She is very sweet,” I said. I told Solange a little more about her, including a little about her position at work.

  Solange frowned. “She is unhappy?”

  “She feels she shouldn’t have taken the job. I think she’s right. She’s struggling, and she would be floundering without me.”

  “She is very outgoing,” Solange said. “And clearly very intelligent. I would expect her to do well in any job.”

  “She doesn’t really understand the technology, and the programmers don’t respect her. It’s a professional risk. Programmers can be real jerks to people they don’t respect. They shouldn’t. They should be patient. The staff there is very good, but they are real prima donnas about it, too. They try to walk all over me, too, but you can imagine how well that works for them. Personally, I don’t believe the person exists who can do the job Dolores is trying to do. I have never personally met a marketing expert who could handle those particular programmers.”

  “And so it would require you in the middle regardless, and she was smart enough to recognize this.” She frowned. “You have an ethical dilemma.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes. Technically, your client is her employer. They are the ones paying you. But she is your friend. And so you must decide whether you will recommend that she ask me if I know anywhere that would be a better fit for her, or stay out of it.”

  “Oh hell,” I said. “I bet you have contacts everywhere.”

  “You have contacts, too, but it might be a mistake for you to use them. You do not want a reputation of helping employees of your clients find work elsewhere.”

  “By extension, I can’t suggest she go to you, either.”

  “No. If she comes to me, do you want me to help her?”

  “I think I should stay out of it. If she comes to you, I don’t think either of you should even tell me, at least until after she has work elsewhere.” I paused. “I doubt it would occur to her.”

  “No, but if she and Aubree talk, it will take Aubree three seconds to send her to me.”

  “I wa
nt her to be happy, Solange. She’s not happy at her job, and I’m not in a position to fix the problem. The programmers don’t report to me, and I’m not authorized to counsel them on playing nice with others.”

  We drove in silence for several minutes before I asked, “Did you enjoy the game?”

  “I did. I would enjoy playing again.”

  “You got it by the end. You’re better at reading people than I am, so you have the potential of being better than I am. I would say the same about Aubree.”

  * * * *

  We walked up the stairs to my bedroom, our arms around each other. She felt so good.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Really good, Solange,” I said.

  “I wondered if you were stiff from our activities today.”

  “A little. Are you offering to do something about it?”

  “Maybe I am,” she said.

  And she did.

  Weeks Ahead

  The next several weeks were a complete whirlwind. Solange bought a bike and all the things to go with it, leaving it in my garage with mine. Even when we were otherwise busy, she made it over one or two evenings each week to go for a ride, and we went for a longer ride every Saturday or Sunday.

  She kept up with me from the beginning, and never complained. I didn’t know how she did it.

  We also set up a weekly card game, every Saturday night. When our monthly game came along, I was in a quandary. Solange let me work on it myself until the Wednesday evening three days before cards night. We finished our bike ride and were relaxing in my living room when she asked, “Have you decided what to do about Saturday?”

  “No.”

  “Are you willing to talk to me about it?”

  “Of course, Solange.”

  “Then talk to me. What are the issues?”

  “It’s pretty simple. We have at least three tables worth of people who would like to play. I started these nights because I like to entertain, which to me involves cooking. But twelve people in this house for dinner are more than I want to try to do.”

  “So, you have a few basic choices.”

  “I suppose.”

  “You can stick to two tables and disappoint several people.”

  “I don’t like that answer.”

  “Neither do I, especially as I’ll be one of those being disappointed.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You could ask some of the people to come after dinner.”

  “I don’t like that answer, either,” I said.

  “You could find a way to cook for twelve, even if that means serving pizza or something else that is, in effect, catered.”

  “Or a pot luck,” I said. “I don’t like hosting pot lucks.”

  “Can you think of any other solutions?”

  “No.” I sighed. “Pizza it is.”

  “You give up so easily?”

  I was cuddled under her arm, so I shifted to see her face. “You see another solution?”

  “Yes. There is no obligation.”

  “Oh?”

  “Choose a venue that more easily accommodates a greater number of people, perhaps one with a bigger kitchen. You could then involve Dolores earlier in the process, thus sharing the burden of cooking for more people.”

  She was smiling lightly, but she also looked a little nervous, perhaps unsure how I would react to her suggestion.

  “Your place?” She inclined her head.

  I thought about it. People had been bugging me for a while to expand the size of the party.

  “In fact,” Solange said, “You could have a pre-party, so to speak, inviting some of the people to come over earlier in the day for swimming and skiing. If you want. There is no obligation, Sidney. But you can guess which solution I prefer.”

  I smiled. “Are you sure?” She inclined her head again. “You’re a little territorial. How are you going to feel if I take over your kitchen?”

  “I’m going to feel just fine.”

  “How is your cook going to feel?”

  “She will be amused.”

  “She won’t want to hover around and make sure I’m not doing anything bad to her kitchen? You realize the kitchen becomes mine at 3 PM. What will your staff eat?”

  “This isn’t a problem, Sidney. They will have three days to work something out. The kitchen will be waiting for you all day with no interference from anyone.”

  I thought about it a little more. “All right,” I said. “Let me see how Dolores feels.”

  “Call her now.”

  So I did. She thought it was a fabulous idea and expressed relief. “I was worried Solange was going to bump me,” she admitted. “I’d love to help. How do you want to divide duties?”

  “Come over Friday night and we’ll figure it out,” I said. I looked at Solange, and she nodded. “I’ll email directions.”

  “Invite her to spend the night Friday,” Solange said, so I did.

  “Really?” she asked. “I’d love to.”

  “Remember a swim suit.”

  We ended up inviting Aubree for Friday as well. I’d warned Dolores about the house, but she was as stunned as I was by it.

  “And you haven’t moved in, why?” she asked me.

  The kitchen was amazing, and she and I easily divided the work. “I want to make dessert,” she said.

  “You make the best desserts.”

  “We can have two main dishes,” she said. “There’s a double oven. That way we’re not making a huge batch of something. We can each make one, and we can have a couple of sides. You can make your biscuits, or we can just use dinner rolls from the store. No one will mind.” We chatted for a while, finalizing the menu and making a grocery list.

  We had an easy dinner, played cards for several hours, and then went for a late swim in Solange’s pool.

  “I could get used to this, Solange,” Dolores said.

  “Funny. That’s what I said.”

  * * * *

  That night, I had another real dream. Sometimes I had them night after night; sometimes I went weeks in between.

  I was an outsider this time, and I was watching Solange and Aubree. They must have been in a play or costume party, as they were both dressed in period costumes. Solange was dressed in fine, ornate attire, but Aubree was dressed as a maid.

  In the dream, they kissed. It was a long kiss, and I was sure it wasn’t the first time.

  They broke from the kiss, and Aubree spoke. She was speaking French, but I understood what she was saying. “M’lady, please bite me,” she said. “It feels so good.”

  My view of the scene shifted, and I watched Solange’s face. She kissed Aubree’s neck. In fact, it was quite sensual, perhaps erotic, and then she looked straight at me, or seemed to, and she had fangs, vampire fangs. She buried them in Aubree’s neck.

  Aubree gasped once, but as Solange began to drink, Aubree moaned and began to shudder, and I knew it was in bliss.

  Then the dream shifted, and I knew some time had passed. Solange was gone, but Aubree was walking the streets. It was night, and a man approached her. I wanted to warn her to be careful, and I was appalled as she let him lure her into a dingy alley. But then I saw she had fangs like Solange’s, and she latched her mouth onto his neck.

  The man struggled before growing still, and I thought it wasn’t as pleasant as what Solange had done to Aubree.

  She drank and drank, but then Solange was there, speaking to her. “Release him. Release him, Aubree. Do not kill him. You are not a killer. Release him.” It was all said in French, but still, I understood.

  And then I woke, my heart pounding as I sat bolt upright in bed.

  From beside me, Solange stirred, and then she was sitting up with me.

  “What’s wrong, Sidney?”

  I was panting, and my heart was pounding.

  “Dream,” I said. “Just a dream.”

  She held me while I calmed down. I let her draw me back to the pillows, and I rested my head on her shoulder.


  “Did you want to talk about it?”

  “No,” I said. “It didn’t make sense.”

  And it didn’t. Why were my dreams showing Solange and now Aubree as vampires. I already understood they were lawyers. It had to be a metaphor. Okay, I knew I didn’t know everything, but everyone knows vampires can’t tolerate the sunlight, and they have to drink blood to survive. Both Solange and Aubree loved the sun.

  And besides, vampires were myths.

  It had to be a metaphor, but I didn’t understand.

  “Solange?”

  “Yes?” she asked. She didn’t sound as sleepy as I thought she would.

  “Was Aubree ever some sort of maid?”

  Solange didn’t answer right away, then she asked, “Why are you asking?”

  “Is her past a secret you can’t share?” I countered. “She’s ashamed or something?”

  “Yes,” Solange said. “She was a maid.”

  “Your maid?”

  “Yes. Sidney, why are you asking?”

  “My dream,” I said. “I’m trying to make sense.”

  She stirred. “In your dream, Aubree was my maid?”

  “Yes.”

  “Odd. I wonder how your mind came up with that.” I wasn’t ready to tell her.

  “Solange?”

  “Sidney?”

  “Are you the one who taught Aubree French?”

  Again she paused before answering. “Yes, but it was a long time ago. Please don’t be angry.”

  “I think if the two of you were once lovers, that’s the sort of thing that should have come up, Solange.”

  “We do not talk about it,” she said. “If people knew we were once lovers, they might assume that is why she works for me. They might assume a great many things that are not accurate. I wanted to tell you, but once I hadn’t told you very early, it felt like it was too late. Please do not be angry.”

  I thought about it. I wasn’t angry. I was puzzled. Perhaps the dream was telling me that Solange had made Aubree what she was, raising her from a maid to a strong, confident lawyer. But I already knew that. Of course, sometimes the dreams told me things I already knew; this could be one of them.

  I cuddled more tightly so she would know I wasn’t upset.

  “Well,” I said finally, “there are probably things about me I haven’t shared. If I promise not to be upset with you about this, will you give me the same courtesy if I haven’t told you something you thought you should know?”