A Dose of Deadly Intentions

by Lucia N Davis

  He looked around. “I think it left. Perhaps the snake is more afraid of you.” He smiled.

  “I doubt it. Anything that slithers gives me the creeps. Anything that crawls as well.”

  “It’s just nature. You are in nature.”

  “I know that. We can coexist. They just need to not touch me!”

  “Would you like to sit down again?” He sat down and patted the spot next to him.

  She eyed the rock suspiciously. “No, I think I’ll stand for a bit.”

  “You sure? It’s comfortable.”

  “No, I’m good.” She rubbed her hand again. “You were saying something, before the snake? You’d been thinking?”

  “Oh, that. Never mind. It wasn’t important.”

  Sara observed him for a moment. Then she shrugged and walked toward the lake. There was a small boulder close to the water. She kicked it a few times to make sure nothing was hiding underneath, then sat down. “Want to join me?” she called to David.

  He came over. “We do have to leave soon. Here, have some water.”

  “Thanks.” She hesitated. “I may have to pee, though, if I drink more.”

  David suppressed a smile. “Those goats are still pretty far away, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Sorry, I know I’m being silly. I’m just not one with nature at the moment.” She accepted the water. “I’m not afraid of goats, just so you know.”

  “I know,” he said, though it did not sound convincing. He kissed her. “We should go.”

  Walking downhill was much faster, and they managed to be back at David’s apartment before dark. After a shower and a good meal, they vegged out on the sofa in front of the TV.

  “How do you like being back here?”

  “Sorry?” Sara had been deep in thought about the conundrum of her dreams—or rather, of not having any. She hadn’t even noticed he had turned the TV off and poured two glasses of wine.

  David repeated the question.

  “Oh. It’s great. I’m ready for school to start up again, though. You know, so I’ll have something to do.”

  “You were busy in San Francisco, I guess, although you never quite told me everything you were doing. You miss it there?”

  “No.” There had been a split-second hesitation before she said it. This was the chance to tell him, she thought. The longer she waited, the harder it would be.

  “I’m glad.” He placed his wine glass on the coffee table. “You know, I was wondering—”

  “David?” She turned toward him.

  “Yes?”

  “You remember I told you how I was dealing with some stuff? Back in San Francisco? I guess it makes sense, because my parents’ accident was there. I never talk about it, because it’s hard. But being there… I had to face it again. I would like you to know what happened.” Then she told him what she had told Phoebe, without choking up, and without restraint.

  David had taken her hand while listening, and when she finished, he pressed it to his lips. “I’m so sorry, Sara. But it’s good you’re talking about this. I feel bad that I let you go alone to San Francisco and made you face this by yourself. I should’ve thought about that.”

  “You could have. But I also could’ve asked you to.” She gently pulled her hand back. “That’s not all of it.” She took a big swig of wine and let the glass rest between her palms, staring at the blood-red liquid.

  “I drove the car.” She let the comment hang in the air between them for a short while. Closing her eyes, she went back in time. “My parents had driven up to San Francisco that day from Los Angeles. We had just had a nice dinner, and they had a couple of drinks. I knew the city better, so my parents suggested I drive them back to their hotel. I was turning left at this intersection, and I checked for oncoming traffic. I thought it was clear. I didn’t see the truck until it was too late, when it was about to barrel into our car.” Everything had slowed down during those last few seconds. She remembered the truck with incredible detail. The face of the driver, his mouth opening in surprise—or a scream?—and the beaded necklace dangling from his rearview mirror. “I was tired, perhaps, and my parents were arguing—I don’t recall about what anymore. Isn’t that strange? Something silly, they always argued about silly stuff. Anyway, that’s the whole story.” Her lip quivered. “I killed my parents.”

  “No, Sara. It was an accident. You didn’t kill them.” David took the wine glass out of her hands and pulled her into his arms. “You know that, don’t you? Accidents happen. It could’ve happened if your mother or father were driving.”

  In his arms, safe and sheltered, the tears started to flow. “I feel so guilty, David. I do this ‘what if…’ all the time, and I know it’s stupid, because the outcome never changes. Sometimes I think I should’ve died in the accident instead of my parents, or died with them. At least the driver of the truck wasn’t badly hurt. I can’t imagine if I’d been responsible for his death too…” She leaned into David’s chest, and he rested his head on hers.

  “This doesn’t make me love you any less, you know,” David murmured in her ear. “You’re an amazing woman. I’m lucky to have met you. I’m sorry you had to go through this horrible event, but I’m glad you survived, because otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten the opportunity to be with you. Your parents—they wouldn’t have wanted you to die with them.”

  “No, probably not.”

  “Of course not. They would’ve wanted you to live. So live. Make the most of it. Honor their memory—celebrate their lives—by living yours to the fullest.”

  She sighed and wiped her tears on his T-shirt. “You know,” she said softly, leaning her head against his chest. “I went to their grave, in Los Angeles. To say goodbye. Have some closure. But I don’t think I’ve accomplished that.”

  “I’m not sure closure comes to us in just one moment. Maybe it comes in bits and pieces.”

  “Maybe.” She felt empty, raw, and absolutely exhausted.

  When she crawled into bed not much later, it occurred to her that he had used the L word for the first time that night. Half asleep, she wondered if she should acknowledge it somehow. She heard him in the bathroom now, brushing his teeth. But by the time he joined her in bed, she was fast asleep.

  Chapter 19

  When Sara woke up the next morning, David had already left for work. The apartment was silent aside from a soft thrumming that originated from the fridge. Sara listened to the stifling absence of noise. Lying on her pillow, she heard the faint pulsing sound of her heartbeat in her ears. Quickly, she got up and put on some music.

  Normally, if she had some idle time, she would visit Margaret, David’s mother. But since Pops, David’s grandfather, had passed away last winter, Margaret was free to go places. Margaret had been Pop’s primary caregiver, but now that there was no need for her to be at home all the time, she traveled—a lot. Currently she was on a trip to Alaska with a friend.

  Sara’s phone rang. It was Phoebe.

  “Hey, girlfriend! What’s up?” Phoebe’s voice was almost drowned out by the noise of traffic in the background.

  “Not much. Now that I think of it.”

  “You sound bored.”

  “I know. It’s embarrassing. I need summer to end.”

  “Don’t we all,” Phoebe lamented. “It’s so hot here. I may melt.”

  “I can’t believe we’re both complaining about summer. We’re awful.”

  “True. You know what we need? A party. Which is why I called. I’m going to San Francisco tonight. I’m organizing a wedding tomorrow. How would you like to be my assistant? Hang out?”

  “Uh, I’d love to, but I just got back. I don’t know how David would feel about that. Besides. I can’t afford to. Money-wise. I also know zilch about organizing weddings.”

  “Nah, nothing to it. The wedding will practically run itself. I hope. We could share my hotel room. Wouldn’t cost you a thing. And I could swing your plane ticket. Seriously, no problem.”

&nbs
p; “I don’t know, Phoebe. I don’t want you to pay for me.”

  “My hotel room is being paid for by the couple. And that ticket, trust me—me and Vincent won’t notice it. We spend money like water. C’mon! It’ll be fun! Please? Once school starts you’ll be busy again. Now you have the time. Enjoy it!”

  “What about David?”

  “He’s a grown man. I’m sure he can look after himself. Stop making excuses. Just say yes.”

  Phoebe booked a flight for her to leave later that evening. Sara could hardly refuse, not that she really wanted to. Excitement took hold of her and feeling energized, she made her way over to her apartment to pack a bag. This time she actually had a reason to bring one of her fancy dresses.

  Her phone call with David was short, since he was so busy. He didn’t seem too thrilled with her sudden departure, but he also knew the summer had been dragging for her and seemed to understand her need to do something. And her spending time with Phoebe was hardly something he could object to.

  Before Sara knew it, her plane was landing in San Francisco. Phoebe was waiting for her at the airport. They took a taxi to a hotel downtown. Night had fallen, and the lights of the city were bright and welcoming.

  After checking in to their room, Phoebe explained tomorrow’s program to Sara and what she was expected to help out with.

  “The bride is the daughter of someone I know,” Phoebe said. “He recommended my services since I’d planned one of his company’s corporate events. I don’t usually do weddings; it’s too much hassle. But this time I felt I had to say yes. Fortunately, the couple was very involved and knew which vendors they wanted. Most of what I’m required to do is coordinate the wedding day.”

  “Weddings are fun, though. Don’t you think?”

  “Ha! Just wait until you have one of your own. I guess they’re fun. But the planning is stressful—at least, that was my experience. Maybe mine had some added pressure given my occupation. If it sucked, no one would ever hire me for sure.”

  “How was your wedding?”

  “It was wonderful. Vincent and I thought so, anyway.”

  “That’s all that matters.”

  “True. And that’s why I don’t like weddings. When you’re planning for others, that’s exactly what makes it hard. People have expectations. You know, the happiest day of their lives and all that. Corporate events are less consequential. If it sucks, so be it. Next year there’ll be another one.”

  “Don’t they tell you what they want?”

  “Yes, they do. But there are always unexpected events. The wedding cake collapses. The official is too stoned to lead the ceremony. People get drunk and start spilling the beans about the bride or groom. Do I need to go on?”

  “I don’t think the wedding planner can be blamed for those things.”

  “You’d think. Let’s hope tomorrow goes smoothly. The rehearsal went fine, and the family looked delightfully boring-normal. Let’s go find the bar. I need a drink.”

  They spent a few hours at the bar in the lobby, talking and gossiping. When they finally found their beds, both women were exhausted. Phoebe turned off the light and the room was engulfed in darkness. Sara lay still in the pitch-black, suddenly wide awake, her senses doing overtime. Next door, the neighbors were laughing. Phoebe’s breath was regular and calm. Sara’s eyes adjusted after a few minutes, but it didn’t make her feel better.

  “Would you mind if I turned on the bathroom light?” she whispered, in case Phoebe was already asleep.

  “Go ahead. You don’t like the dark?” Phoebe asked.

  “Not so much. I haven’t had any dreams since I left San Francisco, but now I’m back… and that last dream was pretty creepy.” She kept her tone light.

  “It sounded like it. Do you always have trouble waking up from those dreams?”

  “No, in the beginning I didn’t. It seems as though the longer I’ve been doing this, the deeper I go. Does that make sense? But I’ve never had someone in the dream actually make physical contact like William did. I really don’t want to repeat that.”

  “Well, I’m here. And I’m a light sleeper, so if you start making funny noises, I’ll wake you.”

  “Thanks. Let’s just hope the dreams stay away.”

  Soon Phoebe was asleep, but Sara couldn’t manage to turn off her brain. She tossed and turned through the endless night. Finally, as the day was dawning, she drifted off.

  Chapter 20

  The house smells of a wood fire, only less pleasant. There is a flurry of activity around her. People she hasn’t seen before are scurrying around in the house. Sara assumes they are the servants. She is drawn to the stairs and goes up to the second floor. One of the bedroom doors is open. Inside, Alice is sitting on the bed. Sara steps across the threshold, immediately weighed down by an overwhelming feeling of despair.

  “We have to go,” Julia is saying to Alice. “I know you don’t want to, but we must.”

  “Go… where?” Alice mumbles, her glassy eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

  “To one of the refugee camps, maybe, but the plan is to get to Oakland. It’ll be all right. I promise.”

  “My house may burn down, with everything I own in it. I’d hardly call that all right.” She takes a sip from the pewter cup she’s holding and pulls a face.

  “Did you pack everything you need?” Julia asks.

  A short, mocking snort is the reply. Alice makes a tired gesture with her free hand, pointing to the room around her, and lets it fall down to her side again. “Hardly—my household has been reduced to a cartload,” she says. Then she turns her head to the left. “No! You can’t come,” she snaps.

  At first Sara can’t tell whom Alice is talking to—then it dawns on her that Alice is having a conversation with a small statue on the top of a cabinet.

  Julia looks pained. Ignoring Alice’s conversation with the inanimate object, she says, “We have to go. Did you pack your medicine?”

  Alice shrugs, hands her cup to Julia, gets up, and walks over to the cabinet close to where Sara is standing. The scent of roses travels with her, barely noticeable through the acrid smell of smoke. Alice opens a drawer and takes out a canister. Sara can only make out a few letters on the label.

  “You should drink some,” Alice says, pointing to the cup in Julia’s hands. “All the glasses are broken, but I thought this would do just as well. It could be the last old fashioned you’ll have for a while.”

  “You may need it more than I do.”

  “I’ve had one already.” Alice gives a strange giggle.

  More than one, most likely, Sara thinks.

  “In that case, I’d better take it off your hands.” Julia takes a big swig and coughs. “Strong stuff—bitter,” she says, her eyes tearing up.

  “I know. I think it needs more sugar. Maybe it’s the air—the smoke is clinging to the inside of my nose and mouth. It’s almost impossible to taste anything.” Alice walks over to Julia and embraces her. “Thank you, for everything. For giving me courage.”

  “Of course. What are sisters for? Why don’t you go down to the children. I’ll grab some last things and be out in a few minutes.”

  Julia ushers Alice out of the bedroom. Sara finds herself following them, but when they split up, she feels herself being pulled down the stairs, trailing Alice.

  Outside, the scenery hits her with full force. Immersed in the caustic atmosphere, the houses around her are still standing, but they are hardly unscathed. Chimneys have come down and windows are broken. Most houses seem abandoned. People are hurrying by, fleeing the neighborhood; the lucky ones have carts, while others carry suitcases or stuffed bedsheets. Chased out of their homes, either by the earthquake or the looming danger of fire, they try to make their way to a safe haven. Above it all is the sky, grey and dark. Sara presumes it is daytime, but the sun is blocked out by clouds of smoke. The same clouds also obscure the view of the city down the hill, revealing little but a menacing orange glow.

  Nex
t to a cart, the children wait, the older ones with anxious faces drawn tight, the younger ones less aware of the turmoil around them. Two Asian men are loading the last of the luggage onto the cart. A woman takes hold of Eleonore and George and helps them up onto the cart as well. “We are ready,” she says to Alice.

  Alice nods, almost mechanically, as if not fully comprehending. At that moment, William comes out of the house, carrying a briefcase. He starts to walk toward the group, but stops, his expression unreadable. Then he moves on to meet them. “Glad you could join us,” he says to Alice, giving her a forced smile. “We should go.”

  “Where’s mother?” asks a sturdy boy of about eleven years old, whom Sara recognizes as Frederick.

  Alice looks up, blinking. “Oh, she’s getting some last things.”

  “Women…” William grumbles. “Why don’t you all go. I’ll wait for her. We should be able to catch up with you.” Looking irritated, he mutters, “I wish they hadn’t confiscated the damn car.” He signals one of the male servants. “You know where to go.”

  The man nods. Slowly the cart takes off, a small procession joining the last stragglers on the street. Sara hears a sobbing voice come from the cart: “Mother, I want Mother! Where is she?” Sara’s throat constricts as the cart grows smaller and the voices trail away. Frederick stops one last time and turns around, his worried face pale and smudged, staring at the house they are leaving behind. One of the girls yells for him to keep moving. He hesitates a few seconds longer before turning around and trotting after the cart.

  Sara turns back to the house. She is alone. William has gone inside.

  Chapter 21

  “Sara?”

  Someone was softly shaking her shoulder.

  “Sara? We need to get up.”

  She opened her eyes. Phoebe was leaning over her. She rubbed her face, discovering wetness on her cheeks.

  “Are you okay?”