Constant Pull (8 page)

“Well. I have managed talk your ear off since I laid eyes on you and not even ask you about this crazy stuff that’s been happening. What’s goin’ on, sugar?”

Val set our lunch in front of us.
As we ate, I filled Vita in on the dreams and the phone call and the suspicious guy who wasn’t who he said he was. I went on to tell her that was why I was so weird when she told me that mail came to her house for me, figuring it was another California nudge. As I heard myself describe all the situations and how they played out, I felt stupid for bringing her here. My biggest story so far and the one that startled me the most, was the phone call from the travel agency-but the rest were just random coincidences and I was probably overreacting.

“I’m overreacting, right?” I said, sounding depressed.

Vita looked thoughtful for a minute. “No, you’re not overreacting. I don’t believe much in coincidence, honey. I truly don’t. And you’ve never been to Alberquerque?  Are you quite sure?”  she asked.

I looked at her more seriously now, tilting my head
. I nodded slowly. Why would she ask me if I was sure?  I decided not to dwell on it.

“Of course
.” She said, shaking her head.

Vita sat quietly for a few minutes, nodding her head slowly as she processed things
. She rolled the corner of her napkin over and over as she thought.

“Do you want my advice, sweetheart?  Or my opinion? 
There’s a little bit of a difference and I just want to be sure I’m giving you what you need.” She said calmly, her chin down now as she waited for my answer.

“I guess I’d want to know whatever it is that you want to tell me
. I trust your judgment. Also Kevin mentioned that there was a psychic or something that you knew?  He thought that kind of perspective might be……helpful.”  I said, feeling stupid again.

“That’s
right; I didn’t even think to ask Layla. Her store is right around the corner actually!  I wonder if they’re open” she said, looking at her watch. “We could…”

J
ust then, Vita’s phone began to vibrate on the table. She looked at the screen.“How peculiar, it’s Layla!” she said, with a big smile as she picked up the phone. As she realized the coincidence of it, she paused before answering. She locked eyes with me, a very serious expression on her face.

“Layla?” she started as she looked out the restaurant window and
nonchalantly waved at yet another college admirer walking by. “How are you?”  There was a pause. “Just now?”  another pause and Vita’s eyebrow crease deepened. Her eyes shot up at me. “Proof?”  she continued. She swallowed hard and lowered her gaze, nodding. “It does. OK, then. Thank you. I’ll talk with you soon. Bye now.”

I couldn’t take the suspense
. “What was it?” I asked. “Is she OK?”

Vita nodded slowly and seemed to be deciding how to respond
. The waitress dropped the bill and a couple pieces of chocolate on the edge of the table, rubbing Vita’s shoulder as she walked away.

Vita finally spoke
. “Layla’s not even
at
the store today. She called with a sort of message. She told me not to worry and said ‘
She’s protected
’.” Her eyes were watering slightly. She took the bill quickly and rifled through her purse for some money. I didn’t even offer to pay, which I had been prepared to do earlier.

“She meant me?
” I asked, my voice sounding small.

“Well
. She didn’t say specifically. But, it sure did seem like it.” She said in a whisper.

She laid the money on the table and stood up, reaching for my hand which I robotically gave to her
almost like a child. We didn’t say a word the whole way back to her house. We just listened to the music. As she pulled the Jeep into the garage, she began to speak again.

“Mel? You
still want to know what I think?” she asked, unbuckling her seatbelt harness thing.

I nodded.

“I’m not comfortable with any real advice other than to tell you what I would do if I were you. Is that OK?”

I nodded again.

“You have to make the decision all on your own. But, if you know-I mean if I knew-that no creeper was going to know about my travel plans as part of some elaborate set up and I was getting all these signs to go….I think I’d go see what it’s all about. This isn’t something that happens to people every day. Like it or not, the experts do
not
have the universe solved. At all. There may be something bigger at work here-although it’s not likely-just so you’re prepared for that. Or, it’s absolutely nothing and you’ve satisfied your curiosity and then I may start to believe in coincidence once again.” She looked hard at me when she finished.

“What are you thinking
?” she asked in a whisper.

“I’m thinking that I am going to not think about it right now
. I need to do some normal stuff and I have my Grampa’s birthday coming up and I am just going to not do a single thing about it for a few days. I don’t think it will hurt anything.” I said. It came out as a sort of declaration.

Vita smiled
. “That’s a gift you know.” She said.

“What is?” I asked.

“The ability to set aside something and think about it when you choose to. I’m not like that at all. I’d be damn near frantic and I’d make myself sick until I made a clear decision. Anyhow-good for you, love. Take your time and think it through when you’re ready.”  Something occurred to her. “Good gravy, I nearly forgot the book. Let me run and grab it for you.”

“What book?”

“Kevin told me to bring you a dream interpretation book. I had one-was gonna let you bring it home. I used to journal my dreams but I’ve gotten out of the habit. I’ll just be a tick.”

Vita ran into the house and right back out with the book
. It had a bunch of stars on the cover and looked to have been read quite a few times. She handed it to me.

“Thanks.”

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m curious
. I just probably won’t look at it for a little while.” I said.

“Don’t blame you, love
. You take care of yourself. Call anytime.”

I gave her a hug and walked to my truck
. I felt myself slipping back to my old tendencies-back to when I first lost my parents. I decided not to fight it. As I drove down the bumpy drive toward the road, I reached in my center console and grabbed two D size batteries. I loved the feel of them and they were the perfect weight for me to calm down. Something reliable and precise feeling every time. I rolled them between my palms as I took the time to piece apart my worries and conceal them until I was ready for them.

I watched both men sleeping and sat silently on the pilled burgundy chair. I felt kind of angry. I looked around the room at the instruments hooked up to both of them. The steady sounds they made were reassuring and made me a little less edgy.

The people in the hallway
rushed around seeming very self-important. I enjoyed the coffee smell of this place in the morning; nearly every one of them carried a cup of something steaming.

I could hear one of the doctors talking down to a patient
in the next room over and it made me shake my head. He seemed to be making his rounds and spoke to the patient in a voice that I might use if I was giving a presentation to an auditorium full of people.

I moved my chair closer to Harry’s bed and gently pulled the fabric curtain to shield me from the door. I looked out the window. It was still unseasonably warm for October, but the mornings
didn’t get that message; it was downright cold until about ten.

Harry woke with a start
. He felt around and I didn’t know what he was doing. Then, I spotted his glasses on the rolling tray-just out of his reach. I stood right up and walked quickly over to hand them to him.

“Are you
OK?” I asked, worried.

He slid his glasses in place and sat up
. I seemed to have startled him. He nodded big when he realized that everything was fine.

The nurse came in to check on him.

“Harry-baby what’s going on?” the middle-aged nurse joked. “Your readings went nutso. Everything alright?” she asked, carrying her green polka dot coffee cup.

Harry took a piece of paper and wrote ‘Fine’
. He nodded to let her know he was fine and he managed a smile.

She walked out after she told him she’d be keeping a good eye on him
. She warned him that pretty girls wouldn’t be allowed to visit if it threw his vitals so off-kilter. I smiled at her vaguely.

Harry took his heavy glasses off and rubbed his eyes hard, trying to wake up. He wrote
on paper ‘Everything OK, Rita?’

I nodded
. “Yeah, just came for a visit.”

‘How are the dreams?’ he wrote.

I shrugged. “Still having them, but not as often. They’re a little different. The dog is gone; now I have horses and people.” I said, dismissively. There was a tone of annoyance to my voice.

‘But not like before. Still having them.’ He wrote.

“Yeah. Still having them.”

I struggled with whether or not I should tell him about the guy
. It seemed unrelated so I decided against it. Just because I had a few palm tree dreams didn’t mean a guy lying to me who said that he was from California was connected to anything. That is, if there was anything at all to be connected to.

‘Is there something else?’ he wrote after he looked at me for a bit. He had
a look of curiosity on his face.

“Not really.” I lied, shaking my head so fast that it was more of a vibration. I guessed that my not making eye contact with him was making my lie less believable. So, I locked eyes with him and tried on a fake smile. Harry made a funny grimace and nodded slowly
. He appeared skeptical.

I rubbed my hands together hard
. I was feeling something but I didn’t feel like going into it.

“What if I’m crazy?” I blurted out.

Harry shook his head as he wrote. ‘Doubtful.’

He was already writing again as he held up the paper. ‘Most people who use that word don’t take the time to understand what they’re referring to.’

I looked at him with a confused look on my face. He wrote again.

‘
Crazy is a broad and uninformed classification.’

“Oh.” I felt
a little like I’d been scolded.

‘There is always a more detailed reason
. An underlying issue to be addressed.’ He wrote.

I was quiet, feeling bad for making this man write so much as soon as he woke up
. He hardly knew me.

“How are
you
doing?  You seemed to wake up kind of unhappy. I hope I didn’t freak you out sitting here.” I trailed off, wondering.

             
Harry smiled, shaking his head as he wrote. ‘Not at all. Regrettably, weird dreams for me aren’t uncommon.’

             
“Oh.” I said, feeling instantly sad for him. “Well…that sucks.”

Harry laughed his wispy laugh and nodded big.

I had a lot to think about, but I didn’t plan to
think about any of it. I concentrated on my Grampa’s birthday in the next week and the 24 piece carbide coated router bit set I bought for him. It was something he’s needed for a while. I was sure he’d yell at me for getting it for him since it’s a little more than I usually spend, but I didn’t care. I was excited. I wanted to finish my plans for his birthday dinner and make a few things he used to love when my grandma cooked for him. I was going through the cabinets and found her recipe box. I’d already checked with him to be sure it wouldn’t upset him if I tried to cook from her recipes. He laughed and said he’d love it.

Still, I found myself a little more jumpy than usual
. Maybe because I was completely ignoring stuff that I needed to deal with. But, I’d take being jumpy since I was happier ignoring it. I guess that kind of restraint didn’t come without a price.

It was a Thursday
. I’d spent the last two hours with my giant makeup case where I perfectly organized each tool and each piece of makeup. I was deeply comforted by applying makeup exactly like my mom showed me. I picked a time when I know I will be alone for a while. My friends and family would have never seen me like this; to them, I was a lipgloss tomboy.

My mom had been a Mary Kay lady
. She used to tell me that makeup was like good décor-same way you would think of decorating your house to make it look its best and show off your personality. She said people should always try to look their best and only lazy people didn’t. There was no reason not to if you had a little bit of time, she would say. She would show me with extreme patience exactly how to apply makeup layer after layer so it would last all day. She would emphasize the creativity you can use. She said it was a kind of art form. She spent the time to show me that no matter how many times I messed it up, I could remove and reapply it-she never got mad. She said it was her job to be sure I knew how to look like a lady; the kind of lady that people don’t forget. She spent a lot of money on makeup because the nicer stuff stayed on longer and was better or your skin-at least that’s what she told my Dad.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I usually wanted to do boy-type things that she would spend this extra time with me
. Or, maybe it’s because she just enjoyed doing it. I will never know now. I really couldn’t ask anyone who knew her. My Grampa was my Dad’s Dad so he wasn’t completely knowledgeable on my mom.

I didn’t have plans, and
my Grampa was filling in on Murray’s bowling team. He would be gone for a few hours. So, just before five o’clock, after I showered, I got myself a pop in a can with a straw, sat in front of the full length mirror in my closet, turned on my DVD of the original movie
Sabrina
on my laptop, and meticulously applied makeup that I never wanted anyone to see. It was a hypnotic process that I’d perfected over the last couple of years once I realized this was something that put my mind at great ease.

The first few times I sat down to do it in this way, it was hard to get through it without crying all the eye makeup off
. It took me much longer back then so I would typically just do my eyes most of the time-they required the most attention anyway. I would think of little comments that my mother made and I would remember her nose-snicker when she thought I was funny or when I would make faces because I thought the whole process was silly. I would sometimes sit still and just think about her. Try to remember her scent. Imagine how I noticed that her front tooth had a tiny chip on it. Try to feel her hand on my chin as she would tilt my head the way she needed to show me something. I remembered how she always told me she was jealous of my eyelashes since they were longer than hers. ‘Your father’s eyelashes’ she used to say. I didn’t know it then, but those times sitting on the floor in my bedroom were some of my favorite memories of her.

At seven o’clock in the evening, I sat down to watch TV with full makeup on and my hair flat-ironed and glossy
. As I began to watch Wheel of Fortune , I made a mental note to get up at 8:30 to take it all off before anyone saw me. My Grampa might be home by nine if he didn’t head out for beers afterwards. Better to be safe and have it off early. Pat started to introduce the show and I wondered exactly how many times he said those words.

I tossed a frozen mac and cheese in the microwave and walked back into the family room
. The family room was lit only by the light from the TV. I lay lounging across all three seats on the brown sofa in my Superman pajama pants and gray A&E Plumbing shirt.

I stiffened in an instant
-I thought I heard something. I shot a look to the right. I thought I heard a car. I muted the TV and listened. Nothing. I waited a good thirty seconds and turned the TV back on. I was starting to guess the puzzle out loud when there was a gentle knock at the doorwall on the wall to my left. I jumped so hard I had to set my hand on the floor to avoid falling. I heard a familiar muffled laugh and turned on the lamp by the doorwall. Oh my GOD, it was Kevin. Kevin was here. I was in complete panic. I realized at that instant that I had full makeup on and he would no doubt find out that I am as crazy as a loon. I rapidly blasted through dozens of excuses in my mind for why I could tell him I looked like this. Did he even recognize me?  Of course he would, it’s not clown makeup. Why didn’t I hear him coming?  Why didn’t I pretend to not be home?  Was my truck out?  Maybe I could tell him I was supposed to go to a wedding at the last minute but my date that asked me to go at the last minute, also backed out at the last minute. Maybe I could tell him that I let the neighbor do it because she is going to beauty school and needed to practice.

I had nothing
; not a single valid reason. I’d hesitated long enough and didn’t want to be rude. So, I took a deep breath and slid the door open. It only now occurred to me that Kevin hadn’t said anything. He’d been standing very still, just waiting. I was looking at the metal threshold on the floor and finally found the courage to look at his eyes.

“Hi
.” I said.

“Hi
.” He replied. He had an expressionless stare.

“Um
... I thought you were having dinner with Lanie tonight?  The theater tickets and all that?”  I asked, looking down.

“Oh
. Well, her aunt came in from Chicago last minute so I suggested that she take her Aunt instead. She was happy. So that’s why I’m free.”  He said. His voice seemed flat.

He was studying me closely, I could feel it
. I was still looking away from him.

“I’m sorry.” I said in a near whisper
. I wasn’t sure why I said that. Maybe for being weird to him. I tried to rev up my courage and be suddenly normal, but it wouldn’t happen. I felt like a stranger. I wanted to just run up to my bedroom and lock the door but I didn’t dare to. Plus, he would probably follow me. He will now probably think I’m completely insane and our friendship was most likely over.

“I tried to call your cell.” He continued, interrupting my mental
fit.

Right
. I’d left that upstairs in the closet. I nodded in reply.

“Do you
…” he paused and was speaking slowly and quietly. “Do you have plans?”  He sounded genuinely curious.

I shook my head but only barely while I fidgeted with the doorwall lock with my fingers, flicking it back and forth
. There was a long pause. I felt embarrassed and angry. All of this could have been avoided if I’d only grabbed my stupid cell phone and brought it down with me. I never wanted anyone to see me like this-especially not Kevin. What could possibly be my explanation? 
Oh, Hi Kevin, I’ve been meticulously applying makeup for the last 2 and a quarter hours, thumbing through all my obsessively collected female exploitation magazines looking to  perfect my look for Pat Sajak and my Stouffer’s Mac and Cheese. Oh, and I have a makeup bin the size of a moving van filled with designer makeup that I got online because I’m too embarrassed to buy it in the store. I obviously have mommy issues.

“Do you have a dress?” he said abruptly.

My eyes snapped up to his. He looked down and then right at me again, waiting for my reply.

“A dress?”  I said, sounding like an idiot.

He nodded.

My mind raced again
. This time I was trying to think not only about what he might be thinking about my mental state but also trying to figure out if I actually had a dress. Then I wondered why he was asking. I had one that was kind of a sweatshirt comfy dress. Well, it was something between a sweatshirt and a T-shirt. It was a form fitting aqua colored dress with long sleeves with what looked like brass paper fasteners all over it. It wasn’t awful but I got a burn hole in the sleeve last time I wore it because I smoked a cigar while drunk. The thing had been around the block.