by Olivia Lara
What if… No, it couldn’t be. But what if it was him? Her mother had said her dreams would always be about just one person. The person.
The seagulls, the ocean, the boats. She’d seen all of that in her dream. Through his eyes. And now there he was in front of her. It must be him. Why else would she feel this way about someone she didn’t know?
As soon as the light turned green, Lisa started walking, and Dominique followed, not taking her eyes from the boy across the street. He didn’t move, standing there like a statue. The sun came out from behind the clouds and Dominique closed her eyes for a split second, blinded by it. When she opened them as if in a dream, she saw someone running in her direction with what seemed like superhuman speed. Before she even had a chance to realize what was happening, she was flying.
LEON
15 JUNE 1957
NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND
Leon had a bad feeling. His mother never called.
‘Mom, what is it?’
‘Leon,’ she said and paused for a moment. ‘I need you on the first flight to New York. When you get there, take the bus to Newport. I’ll wait for you at the station.’
The bus? She never made him take the bus. Her driver took them everywhere. His mother thought it was humiliating if they were seen on public transportation or, God forbid, walking. Only poor people did those things.
‘What is going on?’
‘Not over the phone. We’ll talk when you get here.’
He sighed. ‘I don’t want to come back to New York now. I have plans.’
‘Leon,’ she thundered. ‘I need you. I will see you tomorrow.’
Something had happened, Leon thought. Something bad.
It was the middle of the night when he finally arrived in Newport and his mother was waiting for him as she’d said she would.
‘Mom, what’s wrong? What’s this all about? Why are we here?’
She started walking and he followed.
‘The summer house is the other way. Where are we going?’
‘To your aunt and uncle’s house. This is where we live now.’
‘What? Why?’
‘It’s your father. He did some things he shouldn’t have.’
‘What happened? Is he alright?’
‘He’s fine, but we’re in trouble. Financial trouble.’
‘What do you mean? Where is he? Is he in New York?’
‘There’s no more New York. The bank took our apartment.’
‘The bank?’
‘We tried to protect you from this. It’s been tough.’
‘What has? I don’t understand.’
‘In the last few years, Leonard made some terrible investments and when he lost all his clients’ money, he tried to cover up the debt by writing checks in JJ’s name.’
‘He did what? Stole from JJ? I didn’t even know they were in trading together.’
‘All of his clients left and JJ offered to help Leonard out. If you ask me, JJ did it to humiliate us. He always wanted to be the bigger man. But now your godfather is furious and will most likely press charges against us to recover his money. How we’re supposed to do that, I don’t know.’
‘Wait a minute, if our NY apartment is gone, what happened to our art collection? Did you move it here, to our summer house?’
‘Is that all you care about? Do you hear what I’m saying? The houses, the cars, the jewelry, they’re all gone. The bank accounts are frozen. By the time we filed for bankruptcy, it was too late. The paintings? Why do you think he bought them in the first place? For profit. They were the first to go.’
He tried to wrap his head around the news. His father was a successful businessman, not a thief. And an art lover. He would have never bought the paintings just to profit from them; he would never sacrifice art like it meant nothing.
‘That’s not true. Dad would never do that.’
‘You have no idea what your father would do. You’ve idealized him, God knows why.’
Leon clenched his fists. ‘I don’t get it. I can’t believe this.’
They stopped in front of a cottage and his mother motioned him to follow.
She unlocked the door quietly and led Leon to one of the bedrooms.
‘This is the room your father and I are sharing. You can sleep on the couch tonight.’
He was dumbfounded, looking blankly around the room. His confusion must’ve been obvious.
‘We moved in with your aunt and uncle a few months ago, and they’re paying for everything, but I don’t know how long it will last. Your father is making it impossible for anyone to live in this house.’
‘What do you mean? This doesn’t sound like him at all.’
‘He’s not handling the situation well. He’s aggressive, violent. He gambled to try and get the money back. That led to more debt, drinking and God knows what else he’s doing when he disappears from home for days,’ said his mother, and Leon saw the embarrassment in her eyes.
‘Where is Dad? I’ll talk to him. We can get him help.’
‘I don’t know where he is. In a bar somewhere.’
‘What? Dad doesn’t drink.’
‘Oh, Leon,’ she said, sounding exasperated. His mother had dark circles under her eyes and a haunted look on her face. She had lost weight and the dress she was wearing looked like a sack on her.
‘I need your help. I don’t know what else to do.’
‘How can I help? I don’t know—’
She interrupted him. ‘I need you to talk to JJ. I have arranged for the two of you to meet tomorrow at noon. I tried to speak to him myself, but he doesn’t want to see me. You’re my last hope. Please. Explain the situation and persuade him not to press charges. Convince him to return to Paris. He doesn’t need our money; he has enough to last him a lifetime and then some.’
‘What makes you think he’ll listen to me, Mom?’
She raised an eyebrow and the expression on her face was just like Nicole’s when they were talking about JJ. ‘You know how much he loves you. You’re like a son to him.’ Her voice broke. ‘He will listen to you, I know it,’ she said, her eyes brimming with tears.
‘Mom, I’ll do it. Please don’t cry. We’ll fix this and everything will go back to normal.’
She smiled sadly.
*
The next day, after a very awkward breakfast with his mother, aunt and uncle, he was getting ready to leave and head to the rendezvous point his mother gave him when she stopped him. ‘No matter what, don’t say a word about this to your father. His ego wouldn’t be able to take this.’
‘I won’t. I promise.’
They parted ways after a quick embrace.
Leon was still in shock as he walked down the street. He couldn’t believe what his mother had told him, because it didn’t sound at all like the father he knew. Then again, how well did he really know him? In the last few years, they had barely spoken. JJ was much more present in his life than his father had ever been.
‘America’s Society Capital’ was unchanged. Elegant, breathtaking, busy. The city by the sea boasted of rich – very rich – people who were the proud owners of stunning mansions, empty most of the year yet suddenly fashionable after Memorial Day, and of massive yachts with fancy names where late-night parties happened until well into September. Red convertibles invaded the streets and behind the wheels were always the same people. The ladies wearing designer dresses, expensive jewelry, and overly sweet perfume walked hand in hand into exotic restaurants with the gentlemen in white linen pants and perfectly ironed polo shirts. The smells and the fake laughter – that’s what he remembered the most from his childhood.
He arrived at the meeting place with JJ wondering how his godfather would react. Leon was embarrassed to be put in such an awkward position. Begging for forgiveness – was that what he had to do? He hoped his mom was right, and JJ cared enough about him to listen. He would pay him back all the money his father lost, as soon as he got a job.
Across the street, a
girl with a large blue sun hat and short beige overalls caught his eye. She was too far for him to see her face, yet he stared, unable to take his eyes off her. Who was she? He wanted to rush across the street. He had to see her. And the light wouldn’t turn green already.
Time moved so slow. Seconds were hours. There was just something about the girl across the street. He counted the seconds. Why was it taking so long?
The light finally turned green. He took a deep breath. As she began crossing the street, Leon noticed two things. One was that JJ was walking alongside the girl. And the other was a red car approaching them at an alarming speed. There was no time to think. JJ and the girl were in danger. Acting out of instinct, Leon sprinted towards them.
Everything went dark and quiet until he felt a warm, familiar touch. Someone took his hand, and he felt strangely calm. Then silence again.
DOMINIQUE
15 JUNE 1957
NEWPORT
‘Can you hear me?’ Lisa kept asking her.
Dominique opened her eyes and tried to move. She remembered a forceful shove, tires braking, and a loud thud. On her right, a group of people formed a circle in the middle of the street.
‘Lisa, what happened?’
‘A car came out of nowhere,’ she said. ‘It missed you, thank God, but you were unconscious for a minute. Must’ve hit your head when you fell. Don’t move, alright?’
A car? Yes, there was a car. She had seen it the dream; that dream she just had, through someone else’s eyes. It felt like a second, a fraction of a second. The car speeding, running, desperate running, a high-pitched screech, then nothing. Silence and darkness.
‘Lisa, I think the car hit someone,’ said Dominique.
‘What? How do you know?’
‘I just know. Please check. Please!’
Dominique saw a tall, thin man dressed in a worn-out brown suit push the other people aside. He looked disheveled, a crazy look in his eyes, and he kept waving his arms chaotically. ‘We need a doctor. A doctor! Help! Please help him! What have I done?’ he shrieked like a wounded animal.
‘Lisa, what’s going on?’ asked Dominique.
‘It looks like you’re right,’ she said and got up. ‘Stay here, please.’
Dominique didn’t want to listen and tried to get up, but she was too dizzy. She saw Lisa talking to an older man dressed in white, but she didn’t get a good look at him. Had he also gotten hurt? He seemed fine to her. Then she watched as both of them walked to the middle of the road, and Lisa raised her voice. ‘I am a nurse, please let me pass.’
A moment later, the old man sprinted across the street and disappeared around the corner.
‘We need to call the hospital,’ she heard a woman’s voice say.
‘Someone already went looking for a payphone,’ said Lisa. ‘Please back off. Give him some space, for God’s sake.’
Dominique couldn’t just lie there anymore. She got up slowly and made her way past the circle of bystanders to Lisa. A hundred meters or so away she saw an old red car with the driver’s door open. There was no one inside.
Dominique’s head was throbbing, her legs felt wobbly.
Someone was lying on the ground and it took her a moment to realize it was the young man from across the street. Dark hair covered his face, and when Lisa pushed it aside, Dominique gasped. He looked like he’d been hit in the face with a hammer. All she could see was blood. Everywhere. On his face, his arms, the ground. His eyes were closed, and he wasn’t moving. The dream. The image she’d seen minutes earlier. It was him.
‘Is he going to be alright?’ asked Dominique, close to tears.
The agitated man she’d seen earlier lunged at the boy on the ground, grabbed his shoulders and started shaking him. ‘Wake up!’ he yelled.
‘Get him out of here,’ Lisa said, looking around for help, and two men restrained and pushed him back while he kept repeating: ‘What have I done? Not him. Not him.’
Lisa did CPR. Again. And again. After ten minutes, she stopped. ‘I’m afraid he’s gone.’
‘No! He’s not gone,’ cried Dominique. ‘He can’t be gone.’
‘Is he dead?’ the scrawny man asked, his eyes crazy and terrifying.
When Lisa nodded grimly, he turned around and ran the other way, screaming like his clothes were on fire. A few seconds later, Dominique heard a car speeding away from them.
The red car was gone.
‘What was that all about?’ asked someone in the crowd. ‘Who was he?’
‘He was acting really strange,’ a man intervened.
‘Poor kid,’ said an older woman. ‘At least he died a hero. He saved the girl’s life. And that old man’s.’
Dominique gasped. ‘He saved my life?’ Suddenly, the shove, the noises, the accident, they all made sense. The boy had run towards her, pushed her out of the way and been hit by the car that would have otherwise killed her. She wondered for a moment if the old man they were talking about was the one she had seen earlier, but she didn’t have time now to think about it. Whoever he was, he was fine. The boy wasn’t. Lisa’s worried expression told her everything she needed to know.
‘Please don’t let him die,’ she begged her aunt. ‘Please. Please try again.’
Dominique took his bruised hand gently in hers and whispered in his ear, ‘Please, stay with me.’
‘There’s no use, he’s gone,’ repeated Lisa, but Dominique wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t let him die. ‘Please stay with me,’ she repeated again and again.
The sound of sirens was getting closer and closer. And right before they pulled in, the boy took a breath. Dominique saw his chest moving up and down, faintly at first, then stronger.
She gasped. ‘He’s alive,’ she said quietly. ‘He’s alive.’
The crowd went silent, and then broke just as suddenly into loud relief. Although he never opened his eyes, Dominique thought he knew she was there. She continued talking to him and caressing his hand until the paramedics asked everyone to step back and Lisa pulled her away.
‘You don’t look so good. Let’s wait for the second ambulance and make sure we get you checked out. A concussion is a serious thing,’ said Lisa.
‘No, I want to go with him. I don’t want to leave him alone.’
‘He’s not alone. A man went with him; it might’ve been his father.’ As she said this, the ambulance left.
‘Where are they taking him?’
‘I didn’t ask but I assume it’ll be the same hospital you’re going to,’ said Lisa.
The second ambulance arrived a few minutes later and took Dominique to a hospital nearby. After they ran some tests, they decided to keep her under observation for head trauma indicators for the next twenty-four hours.
Later that afternoon, while Lisa dozed off on a chair and nobody else was around, Dominique snuck out of her room and went to the front desk.
‘Could you please tell me which room the car accident victim is in?’ she asked.
‘Which car accident victim?’ asked the nurse, patiently.
‘A young man with long dark hair. He was wearing a white T-shirt and long black pants.’
‘Yes,’ said the woman. ‘We had someone matching that description. But he was only here for a few minutes. We didn’t admit him because we’re not equipped to handle such a serious case. He was transferred to another hospital by helicopter.’
‘Do you know what his name is? Or where he was transferred?’
‘No, we don’t have his records. I’m sorry.’
‘You don’t know anything about him? Anything at all?’
Dominique tried to hold back the tears but to no avail. They were already running down her cheeks, one after another.
The nurse smiled kindly. ‘Wait here.’ She got up and went to the back of the office.
‘Do you know where they took the boy who came in this morning? The car accident victim?’ Dominique heard her ask. ‘Someone is asking about him.’
A few minutes later, the sam
e nurse returned.
‘All I can tell you is that he was in terrible shape and his father, who seemed to be a man of means, offered to pay to send him to New York, to a hospital with a fully equipped trauma center.’
‘Are you sure it was New York? And do you know which hospital?’
The nurse shook her head.
‘And his name?’
‘That’s all I can tell you, miss.’
Dominique thanked her and went back to her room.
That night, Dominique fell asleep thinking about the boy, and had a dream. She was in a strange bed, in an unfamiliar place. Everything in the room was bright, and she felt like a skier without goggles on a sunny day – open your eyes, and you will be blinded. How would she know that? She had never even seen the mountains, let alone skied. It wasn’t her in the dream. It was him. Again. It was a reverie.
‘His heart stopped. We’re losing him,’ she heard and panicked. She felt a kind of fear she didn’t know she was capable of. The kind of fear that instead of paralyzing you, makes you do incredible things like fight a lion with your bare hands, or jump from a cliff into the ocean when you can’t swim.
It felt like an end. An end to all things. She couldn’t let that happen.
‘No,’ she screamed, sounding like a wounded animal. And this time it was her voice. Not his.
*
Dominique heard Lisa calling her name. Once. Twice. She woke up.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Lisa. ‘You were screaming in your sleep.’
‘I’m fine,’ said Dominique and got up.
‘You’re not fine. Tell me what’s wrong.’
She had never told her about the reveries. ‘I had a strange dream.’
‘What about?’
‘I was in a hospital bed, and I couldn’t move.’
‘It was just a dream. It’s because of what happened. It traumatized you.’
‘It’s possible. But—’
‘What is it?’
Dominique smiled sadly. ‘I’ve had dreams like this before. They started when I met a boy back in Colmar. Leon.’