by Angie West
***
By midnight I was gritty eyed and wondering what was holding my hand onto my body. I never wanted to see another godforsaken notebook again. But finally, after book number three, the fairytale was over. I hoped the next book would give me a better idea of just what the hell Mike had been thinking. Plus, I still couldn’t figure out why he would have gotten himself involved with John in the first place. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to know. As far as John was concerned, I wanted nothing more than to give two weeks’ notice at LanTech and never deal with the slug again—perhaps forget that our little ‘meeting of sorts’ had ever taken place.
Mike would come back and we would have a good laugh over all of this. Only it wasn’t all that funny. It wasn’t a big joke that John had known too much, had even had my brother’s personal belongings stolen from his apartment. I didn’t give a shit about John, or money, or buried treasure. But I would find my brother. I cringed as I looked at the three notebooks I had finished translating. In order to do that, it looked like I would have to make a trip to crazy town. As entertaining as the little story was turning out to be, it was nothing short of bizarre. I sat back and glanced through it one more time, summarizing the material as best I could.
“A peaceful utopia, blah, blah, blah. War torn history, a princess lies in wait.” I checked dates again. “And what a long wait. Let’s see, that would make Princess 500 years old. Nuts for you, lady. Okay, where was I? Ah, yes, war torn lands…blood, guts, revolts. The people of the land are under the cover of darkness, and in a constant and terrible danger. There are few safe havens left throughout the lands. It is a mystical land of ice and snow, rich jungles and seascapes. Strange and wonderful things are possible there. It is a land that knows no true passage of time. The darkness threatens to overtake all in its path. He cannot be stopped.”
“Doing a little light reading, Claire?”
If it were possible to actually jump out of one’s own skin, I think I would have done it. As it was, I jumped and whirled around, dropping my notes.
“Megan! Yes, light reading.”
“Uh-huh. Nice little story there. I thought you would be asleep by now.”
“I should be. This is just so good I couldn’t put it down.”
Megan nodded. “I know it’s late, but my new washer and dryer aren’t being delivered for another two days. I let myself in hoping I could do a load here?”
“Of course you can. You need soap?”
“Nope, got it, but thanks. How’s life, little sister?”
I shrugged. Crazy, I thought. “It’s fine.” I said. “I’m thinking about becoming a cocktail waitress.”
Megan laughed as she stuffed her clothes into the machine, measured out a capful of soap, and quickly set the dials.
“Don’t laugh, I’m serious.” I regarded her as I leaned against the counter. “Are you hungry?”
“I could go for a snack. Whatcha’ got?”
I pulled open the refrigerator door and peered inside cautiously. “Nothing that’s any good by now.” I started rummaging through a deep kitchen drawer.
“Chips?”
I came up with a large bag of chips. “Chips.”
Megan grinned and we commenced with the ripping open of the bag. “So, about this waitressing gig.”
“Well, I’m still working out the details. How bad do you think Mom and Dad would hurt me?” I laughed.
“Pretty bad.”
“Yeah.” I smiled. It would almost be worth it to see the looks on their faces, I thought wistfully. As far as I was concerned, you were never too old to give your parents a hard time. We had been too easy on them anyway. Well, most of the time. Megan definitely had been too easy on them. I couldn’t remember the last time Megan had gotten in trouble. It was probably too late now. Megan had turned thirty-two six months ago. I, however, was only twenty-nine. There was still plenty of time for me. Wasn’t there? I shook my head, smiling across the counter at Megan.
“Why are we still in Seattle, Megs?”
She looked at me like I had grown a second head. “We grew up here? I don’t know. What’s wrong with Seattle? You and Mike have jobs here; I have my design business; Mom and Dad live here.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” I sighed.
“What’s wrong, Claire?” She set a chip down and eyed me as she drank her soda.
“Just feeling restless, I guess. Bored? Ready for a change? I don’t even know. This too shall pass?” Like my life, I thought, in slow and regular intervals. Except for this week; it made me feel like a heel for even thinking of complaining over the ordinary.
“I’m thinking about switching jobs. Different focus, maybe. Being in a basement all the time must be getting to me. The deprivation of natural light and all.” I smiled and scooted another chip toward my sister.
“Huh. Must be. Well, go for it, Claire. I mean it. I’m behind you 100%, whatever you want to do. You could even come to work with me for a while, if you want.”
I laughed now. “Not a chance. Get that out of your pretty head right now.”
“So what’s your book about?”
“My book?”
“The happy little bit you were reading when I came in?”
I tensed but forced a shrug and tried to look nonchalant. “Nothing really, just some old ghost stories I found in the attic. Looks like that and someone’s old journals.” I actually was still cleaning out the attic space from the previous owners, an elderly couple who I hoped had found Tampa to their liking. Did I mention I procrastinate from time to time?
Megan leaned forward. “Ooh, sounds good. Any torrid love affairs?”
“Nope.”
“Love triangles?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Weird fetishes?”
I shuddered. “God, I hope not.”
She sat back then, deflated. I hesitated to tell her the truth…I didn’t want to mention John’s part in all this, for one thing. I mean, I’d refrained from slugging him, but I wasn’t sure that she would be able to. Megan was one of those people who took care of her own. She could take quite a bit of insult and injury in her own life, but mess with her family and you were toast. I also took care of my own, and so far I was staring at a nightmarish fantasy world, embezzlement, and disappearances. Danger, I admitted. I didn’t want Megan involved—I didn’t even want her to worry. She’d had her share of worry for, oh, the next ten years, I figured.
Besides, I wasn’t even sure I could explain the mess in which I presently found myself. I really needed to find Mike first. Until then I figured it was best to keep quiet. In order to find my brother, I would have to figure out where he had gone. That meant figuring out what he was working on before he disappeared. John said he would call in one week, after I’d had time to go through Mike’s notes. Now there was a call I was looking forward to. I entertained brief fantasies about flushing my telephone down the toilet.
“What’s so funny, Claire?”
“Um…nothing; I was just thinking. Listen, Meg, you remember that summer a while back, when I was twelve?”
“Mikey had just turned ten. Yeah, talk about a while back.” She smiled and a dreamy look came into her eyes. “That was the summer I was—officially—allowed to date. I seem to remember a Cadillac and a brown-eyed boy. “
“Adam Jones,” I supplied helpfully.
“He was my first serious boyfriend.” She grinned like a fool. “You know, I wonder what he’s been up to.”
I shook my head, smiling warmly at her. “We had a lot of good times, Megs.”
“We did, didn’t we? As I recall, you and Mikey were almost grounded for life after that summer.” She winked at me.
“Grounded? Oh yes—Mom wasn’t too happy about our little end of summer hurrah, was she?” I chuckled. “She always worried about us so much—snakes in the woods, poison ivy, and what was it? Wild bears? Runaway bears?”
“Well, telling her you guys were going on a two day hiking-cam
ping trip would have been a good start.”
“Oh my God.” I choked on my drink. “That’s right, we didn’t tell her. How could I have forgotten that?” I murmured. My thoughts strayed to Mike’s notes again, to what he’d written at the end of the first book, about me and Indian summers. I remembered our hike through the woods that day, so long ago, yet so clear now that Megan and I were talking about it.
“He was always looking for the next adventure. I guess I was too, at that age,” I mused. “I remember we walked for what seemed like forever that day. We ended up climbing this big, sturdy old tree. We shared a candy bar and a bottle of warm soda that we had smuggled into our backpacks the night before. Said we were on this great adventure; we were on our way to slay a horrible dragon.” I laughed. “We were going to a castle high on a hill to slay the dragon, of course. Only our dragon wasn’t green and he didn’t breathe fire. He was this were-dragon who spit poison. One hit and bam, you died. But the were-dragon could shape shift and look like anyone most of the time, to trick his unsuspecting victims.”
“God, you guys had imaginations.” Megan shook her head.
“Yes. What imaginations,” I murmured.