Authors: Karina Halle
“You never answered my question,” I tell him, shifting away slightly, his proximity to me producing a strange push pull, like two magnets about to connect. “Why do I keep dreaming you? Have we met before? What’s your name?”
“So many questions, Ada, so little time” he says. There’s something so soothing about his voice, both low and silken, even in such a dead place like this where all sound is worn down, dull. “But you have met me before. At the wedding.”
“I knew it,” I whisper, feeling mildly triumphant.
“I guess it doesn’t say much about me that you don’t really remember,” he says with a wince, a piece of wavy hair flopping on his forehead. “Or maybe it says a lot.”
“I blame the champagne,” I tell him. “So now I know I’ve met you before. Am I conjuring you up because I found you absurdly handsome and I’m hoping to pick up where we left off?”
Okay, normally I’m not this forward with guys but it’s my dream, I can do what the hell I want.
The corner of his mouth quirks up. He has damn fine lips. “We didn’t really leave off anywhere. You took off your shoes and went to get champagne. I never saw you again.”
I’m wondering if that’s true or if it’s what my subconscious wants me to believe. After all, it’s pretty much what Perry had told me earlier.
“You’re here,” he says slowly, his face falling slightly, “because I have something to show you.”
He gets to his feet in one fluid motion and reaches down for my hand.
Without thinking, as if my hand has a mind of its own, it goes to his and I feel an immediate jolt of electricity running through me. Not just the electricity you read about in romance novels. I mean actual voltage. My lips are buzzing.
“Sorry,” he says, hauling me to my feet, still holding onto my hand. “The connection in here can be a livewire.”
A livewire? It’s magnetic is what it is, it feels like my palm is stuck to his and our hands meld together like they were always meant to be this way.
Fuck. Though the respite from the horror is welcome, I’m not sure all this Twilight-like, magnetic, electric bullshit is any better, dream-wise.
Come on
, he says in my head.
And use your inside voice.
Okay,
I say, hearing my words escape, despite not opening my mouth.
He leads the way, his large form in front of me as he takes me toward the forest.
The forest of darkness and death.
My chest feels heavy and he pauses, looking at me over his shoulder.
You’ll be fine with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.
What are you showing me?
I ask him
. I don’t even really know who you are
.
I’m the one who has your back
, he says.
And I’ve been watching you for a very, very long time.
I don’t have the luxury to puzzle over his remark. We enter the forest and I immediately feel this sense of doom slide over me, as if evil has taken up residence here and it’s just oozing from the trees. The light in here is nearly gone and I can barely make out the tree trunks from the shadows. Everything is the darkest, grainiest red, a world seeped in blood.
Without realizing it, I’m holding his hand for dear life. He’s leading me further into my nightmare and I don’t even know his name.
It’s Jay
, he says, glancing at me over his shoulder.
Oh great, Jay, the thought reader.
Sorry
, he says
. It’s impossible not to when we’re in here.
You keep saying in here
, I say as I give wide berth to a flowering vine that’s reaching halfway across the path. I swear there are eyeballs at the center of the flowers, watching me as I go.
You mean my dream.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment.
Things aren’t always as they seem here.
No shit
, I mutter to myself.
Suddenly he stops and I run into his back. A nice, hard, firm back. I yearn to run my fingers over his muscles and reach up to do so, because again, it’s my dream and it’s been forever since I’ve had a sexy one, but he says,
listen.
I take my hand away, my other still grasping his, unable to let go, and cock my head in concentration.
I hear a flurry of wings beating and look up to see the faint shape of what looks to be a bat the size of an eagle flying overhead, a black blot beyond the dark reaches of the tree limbs.
Not that
, he says.
I close my eyes, straining to hear more.
At first I just hear my own heartbeat, a strange thing to pick up on in a dream, and for a moment I wonder if I’m still in bed with Perry, if my heart is racing in real life, if I’m tossing and turning.
Then I hear it.
Again.
“Help me, Ada.”
My mother’s voice.
I grasp Jay’s hand tighter.
What is that? What’s going on?
It’s not your mother
, he says, glancing down at me, his brows low.
That’s what I want to show you, what you need to know.
I peer around him.
The path in front of us widens, but as the trees fan out, it doesn’t become lighter. It becomes darker. Instead of a forest it’s a black veil, like we’re standing on the edge of a starless universe. And there, just feet away in the earth, is a large gaping pit with a sole hand sticking out of it.
I know without a doubt that it’s my mother’s hand. I know her hand. I feel her near, a connection that can’t be broken.
I start for it but Jay pulls me back, his hand going to my elbow and taking a firm hold.
It’s not your mother
, he warns.
Help me
, my mother cries out, her voice soft and ragged all at once, like she’s barely holding onto life.
Even though she’s dead.
Please,
I tell him, trying to wrestle free from his grasp.
She needs me.
My mother screams bloody murder, her hand gripping the side of the hole, fingers digging into dirt, barely holding on.
I know you’re there, you can save me
, she gasps.
You need to save my soul. They have me and won’t let me go.
“I’m trying!” I yell, wishing I could see her face, wanting to grab her hand and pull her up.
Shhh
, Jay hushes me, eyes blazing into me as his grip tightens.
They might know
.
More giant bats start flying overhead, one landing a few feet from my mother’s grasping hand.
Who might know?
I cry out in frustration.
It’s a fucking dream and I’m either saving my mom or I’m waking up.
I won’t let you
, he says.
This isn’t over.
I stare at him incredulously.
Won’t let me?
He points at what I can only assume is the pit to hell.
That is not real. That isn’t your mother. This is what I had to show you, why I had to show you myself.
Of course it isn’t real
, I snap, my chest heavy, as if loaded with bricks.
It’s a dream.
Listen
, Jay says, placing his large hands on my shoulders, an iron grip to keep me in place. He lowers his head, his eyes inches from mine and searching.
And listen carefully. No matter what happens, you mustn’t believe your mother is in any danger. She’s dead and she’s safe.
That’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one
, I mutter, trying to ignore my mother’s cries, even though they stab deep, like hot knives.
Whatever it is, she’s okay. Don’t attempt to seek her out. Don’t attempt to interfere.
How can I interfere?
Let it be and ignore it.
I think I’d really like to wake up now
. I look around, staring at the darkness. “Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!” I scream.
“Shhhh!” Jay hushes me. “I’m not supposed to be here with you.”
A dozen more giant bats land on the earth around us with soft thumps.
Jay looks over his shoulder at them and then back at me.
He gives me a small shake of his head. “You need to go to sleep now.”
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Three knocks reverberate through the air.
In a flash I’m sucked backward through darkness, Jay, the bats, the forest growing smaller and disappearing.
Suddenly I’m back at home.
Standing downstairs in the kitchen.
In the dark.
I gasp for air, as if I haven’t been breathing this whole time, and lean against the island for support, my legs suddenly going weak. A wave of nausea rolls through me and I barely have time to make it to the sink before I vomit. I stay hunched over, trying to get through it, catching my breath, until I have enough strength to get a glass from the cupboard.
Grimacing, I rinse my vomit down the sink then splash water on my face before filling my glass from the tap and downing it. I am beyond thirsty even after that and have to fill it again.
When I’m done, I push the glass away and look around the kitchen warily. I’m in my camisole and short shorts, barefoot, and yet I feel like I’ve spent the last few hours trudging through a forest.
It was a dream
, I tell myself.
A bad one.
And now I’m apparently sleepwalking. That’s a new one for me.
I take in a deep breath and absently walk over to the window that looks out onto the street.
The air leaves my lungs.
There’s a man standing in the middle of the road.
His form dark and faceless against the streetlights.
I freeze, wide-eyed, watching him.
I feel him watching me.
Neither of us move.
Then he turns and walks away.
Goes right next door.
To our new neighbors, the Knightlys’.
.
The next morning over bacon, eggs, and an obscene amount of coffee, Perry and Dex decide to stay an extra night. Perry says it’s because she wants to check out the Saturday market downtown, though I know it’s because they both don’t feel right about leaving me. They have their friend Dean looking after their dog, Fat Rabbit, anyway, so they’re squared.
Actually I do want to go to the market and peruse the handmade clothing and eat from the food trucks. I want to be in the sunshine and as far away from this house as possible. I even want to be around a crowd of sweaty strangers, just so I’m not alone.
I didn’t go back to sleep last night. I was too scared. After the thing in the closet and the dream about my mother and Jay and waking up in the kitchen sleepwalking, plus seeing one of my neighbors outside on the street in the middle of the night staring at the house (or was that a dream too?), I went back upstairs, climbed in bed with Perry, but spent the rest of the night on my phone. I literally went through every single fashion blog and magazine there is and even bought a few things from shopping sites I’d banned myself from. Anything to keep from closing my eyes, to risk going through it all again.
Needless to say I’m exhausted, my brain is full of fog, and I’ve barely spoken two words all morning. But Perry knows, as she always does, that I’m even worse today than yesterday. So they’re staying and I’m not protesting one bit. Even though Perry and Dex are known for attracting trouble, there’s no one else I feel safer around. Dex has Perry’s back and he has mine too.
But in my dream, so does someone else.
I’m the one who has your back
.
And I’ve been watching you for a very, very long time.
Jay.
It was so incredibly real, incredibly vivid and arguably the most fucked up dream I’ve ever had. It just felt . . . like I wasn’t in control of it. Like it was being projected into my head. And the more I think about it, about my mother and the Thin Veil and Jay, the more my head spins.
I’m mulling that over as I grab my purse and head out the door with Dex and Perry, the stark sunshine feeling incredibly good on my skin while bird song erupts from the trees. I close my eyes briefly as Dex unlocks the doors to his black Highlander and try to let it the summer light wash away the darkness.
“Hmmph,” Dex says and I open my eyes to see him staring over at the Knightlys’, his brow furrowed as he sticks a cigarette in his mouth.
I look behind me, a chill coming over me. “What?”
The boxes are gone, there’s no car in driveway nor the ‘70s Mercedes that the Jacob man drove. It looks quiet.
“Nothing,” Dex says, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag. He blinks, seeming to relax before my eyes and blows smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Anyway I was hoping maybe I’d see Sage Knightly.”
“I’m sure you can harass the new neighbors tonight,” Perry says as she walks around the hood. “And you’re not smoking that in the car.”
He gives her a salute. “Yes ma’am.” He promptly puts out the cigarette on the back of his lighter and shoves it back in the pack before getting in the driver’s seat, sighing despondently.
During the drive to downtown, Dex has Soundgarden blaring and Perry keeps eying me in the rear-view mirror.
I’m fine!
I yell inside my head, using the “inside voice” Jay told me to. I’m not sure if she can hear me or not because her expression doesn’t change. She’s studying me as if not quite sure who I am.
“What?” I finally ask her out loud, my voice sharp.
She looks away and now Dex is peering at me in the mirror.
“You all right back there?” he asks. “Overdosing on teenage angst?”
I flip him the bird and look out the window.
Portland’s Saturday market has always been one of the best parts of summer in the city, and I’ve only made it out once this year. It stretches from the McCall Waterfront Park into the downtown area, and has grown a lot over the years. Portland’s famous food trucks are all over the place, there’s live music, and vendors selling everything from hand-tooled leather bags to vintage furniture. There’s a water park that you need on a humid day like today, and street performers everywhere.
After we find parking blocks away, we’re sucked in by the crowd and for a moment it feels like my problems are disappearing. In fact, it makes me feel like I never had any problems at all. Maybe it’s the epic collection of people, the weather, or the good vibes, but I feel a twinge of excitement run through me. In three weeks I’ll be starting school, and even with all the changes going on in my life, that’s one change that brings promise.
Maybe I can start again.
“So you know how to smile after all,” Dex muses. He’s got a phallic-looking corn dog in his hand and waves it at me. I didn’t even realize I was smiling.
We’re standing outside a vendor tent while Perry is trying on clothes inside. Ironically I’m of no help to her. I can’t stand shopping with other people and am apt to tell them everything looks fine just to get it over with.
I pretend to knee him in the groin and he waves the corn dog like a fencing sword to fend me off until it goes flying onto the grass. His face falls dramatically.
“Son of a fuck,” he says, tossing the empty stick in the nearby trash and taking out a cigarette. While he lights it he glances at me. “Anyway, smiling is a good thing. You seemed a little rough this morning.”
“Well I had a rough night,” I tell him, suddenly occupied with picking strands of my hair off my black linen dress.
He exhales, the smoke wafting away. Silence strums between us for a beat. “You know, Ada,” he says in a careful voice, “I hope you know that what you’re going through is perfectly normal.”
My eyes snap to his. “What I’m going through?”
He nods, taking a drag, eyes all squinty. “Yeah. Puberty.”
I let out a tired groan.
“Seriously though,” he goes on, giving me a quick smile. “I mean about everything. Your mom. Everything that’s happened since. Everything that happened before. Normal people don’t go through all that.”
“Then how can you say what I’m going through is perfectly normal?” I question.
“I mean in the sense that I’ve gone through it. So has Perry. We’re still going through it. A lot happened.” His eyes grow hard and he blinks, looking away. “We lost people. We lost . . . chances. We gained truths we didn’t want. Fuck. We literally all went to hell and back and that changes a person. It’s changed Perry. It’s changed you. And it sure as hell has changed me.”
I’ve never heard Dex admit anything like this to me before and I have to say I want him to keep talking. I usually want him to shut up.
“Yeah?” I ask quietly.
He nods, flicking his cigarette. “Yeah. If you think you’re the only one who has weird dreams, you’re wrong. I have nightmares all the time.”
“What about?”
“Everything. Everyone. Every place. It doesn’t really end.” He sighs and rubs his hand along his chin, eyes darting over the passersby. “We know monsters are real. They exist in this world. They can be disguised in a crowd. They can be buried in your head. And they are definitely somewhere . . . there.” He waves his hand in a circle, focused somewhere in the distance. “Beyond what we can see. We know they’re there, fighting to come in. It’s been two years and we’ve all recovered, distanced ourselves, and have tried to move on. Yet, deep down, I know we’re not in the clear. This isn’t over, little sister.”
“Gee,” I tell him softly, “you sure know how to wipe a smile from a girl’s face.”
He gives me a half-hearted grin. “One of my many talents. You’re too young to know the rest.” He puffs back on his cigarette, his dark eyes observing me just as Perry’s were earlier. “Sometimes I know what your sister is thinking whether I want to or not. Extremely handy in the bedroom. Not always handy outside of it. She’s worried about you. A lot.”
I swallow uneasily and absently look down at my nails, not wanting to hear this. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” he says simply. “And neither are we. And we’ll probably never be fine. It’s okay to admit that. And it’s okay to tell us if something is going on, whether you think it’s a silly dream or stuffed animals trying to kill you.”
“Okay, why do you guys keep mentioning the stuffed animals? Because I swear I’m piling them all in your car and you’re taking them back to Seattle for Fat Rabbit to chew on.”
“Fair enough,” he says with a shrug. “Better them than my boots. My point is . . . you have us. We’re only three hours away. Use us.”
“Did Perry put you up to this?” I say suspiciously.
He shakes his head, looking downright solemn. “She didn’t. Believe it or not, I care about you.”
I can’t help but grimace, completely uncomfortable with any affection coming from this douchecanoe of a brother-in-law. But secretly, deep down, I’m touched.
“Don’t worry,” he says quickly as Perry comes out of the tent, a plastic bag of clothes in her hand. “I’ll go back to annoying the fuck out of you in no time.”
She holds up her bag triumphantly. “Dresses made from old concert t-shirts.”
“Sweet,” I tell her, mentally filing that idea away for my own designs.
“I don’t know about you,” Dex says, putting out his smoke. “But I could use a beer or twelve.”
There is a little beer garden over by the stage, but I’m only eighteen so I obviously can’t take part, and my last fake ID got seized by a bar Amy and I had tried to sneak into a few months ago.
“You guys have your beer,” I tell them. “I’m going to look around.”
“Are you sure?” Perry asks. “I’m sure Dex can keep his alcoholism in check until we get back home.”
Dex’s mouth drops open in false shock. “Woman, do you even know me at all?”
“I’ll see you in a bit,” I tell them, heading over toward the water fountain. I look back over my shoulder just in time to see Dex grab Perry’s hand, holding on tight as they walk away, lifting it up to his lips and kissing it while Perry beams back at him.
I feel a squeeze on my heart, a warm fuzzy feeling combined with a flash of my dream.
The feel of my hand in Jay’s, the way it felt like it was made just for me to hold.
You’re a fuckwad
, I tell myself.
It was just a dream.
I repeat that to myself as I meander through the crowds. I start taking pictures of the local fashion, street style to post on my blog, and of course I seek out our own Jimi Hendrix and get a selfie with the market legend. It’s tradition.
I’m standing outside a Korean taco stand, trying to figure out if I want a bibimbap wrap (honestly I just like saying “bibimbap”), when I feel a presence beside me.
I look over to see Jacob standing right there.
“Hello,” he says in his thick accent. “Bloody brilliant weather we’re having.”
I blink at him for a moment, taking him in. He’s not wearing a baseball cap this time and has a thick mop of red hair for someone his age, though his sunglasses are covering up his eyes. I remember their amber color quite well. Just like yesterday he’s wearing an ugly shirt, this time a burnt orange short-sleeved shirt that matches his hair.
“Jacob,” he supplies when I don’t say anything. “We met yesterday. You’re Dawn and Sage’s neighbor. Ada, isn’t it?”
I swallow, trying to find my voice. I’m not sure what it is about this man that makes me feel off-kilter. Not necessarily in a bad way, it’s just . . . something.
“Yeah, Ada,” I manage to say.
“Well, Ada,” he says smoothly, looking around, “I have to tell you it feels good to see a familiar face in this crowd. I don’t know Portland at all. First time here.”
We shuffle forward in the line as it gets shorter. “Where are you from?”
“Aside from England?” He asks. “Oh, I’ve been all over the place. You name it, I’ve been there.”
“But Dawn and Sage, they moved from Washington?”
He nods. “They’re a nice couple. I think you’d like them.”
I give him a wry smile. “To be fair, you don’t know me so you can’t know what I like.”
He tilts his head back and I can feel his eyes on me despite the sunglasses reflecting back my own face. My dark circles stand out more than anything and my blonde hair is thwarted by fly-aways. I look like absolute shit.
“No I suppose I don’t know you at all,” he says finally, his attention back to the menu on the side of the stand. “Bibimbap,” he repeats. “Fun word, isn’t it?”
“So how do you know them?” I ask. “The Knightlys.” I pause. “Is it true that Sage was in the band Hybrid, that Dawn was a journalist?”
“Who told you that, love?”
“My dad. He’s not a fan or anything. He was just talking to them earlier.”
“Well if they told him that, it must be true.”
“And so . . .”
“I’m a family friend,” he supplies. “Here to help them settle in. I’ve always been a helper of sorts for them. Anything they need, they know they can count on old Jacob.” He adds sympathetically, “They’re getting older, you know. Their minds still run like it’s the ‘70s, but bodies don’t keep up so easily. Such a shame, really. How unfair life is in that regard. They say you’re only as old as you feel but try telling that to a ninety-year-old on their deathbed, just wishing he could do all the bloody things he wants to do.”