Called by the Bear 1-3 (3 page)

C
arly

T
he need
to pee is greater than the desire to keep my head absolutely still, and I stumble without light to the bathroom. Those tequila martinis didn't solve my problem, although I had fun. I'm not sure how many I drank, but a vague recollection of flirting with some guy and then telling him I was into bears plays in my head.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
I cringe in embarrassment. While I'm sure he didn't believe me, I hope I never see him again.

Water rushes too loudly down the toilet when I flush. The last thing I remember is Sierra helping me out of my clothes and telling me there was a bowl by my bed in case I needed to puke. Right now I wish I had as my stomach churns.

Thankful for my nightlight, I search the medicine cabinet for ibuprofen. I pinch the cap open and drop four tablets into my hand. I shove them in my mouth, and the gel coating sticks to my tongue. I guzzle metallic-flavored water out of the tap to swallow them down.

My mouth tastes like the bottom of a birdcage, and I guess I didn't brush my teeth. Opening the toothpaste tube sends the scent of mint to my nose, and my stomach revolts. I drop to my knees with a clunk that should hurt but I'm more concerned about the contents of my stomach rushing out. So much for medicating my headache.

The tile floor is cool under my bare legs when I stretch them out to lean against the wall. While my stomach is quivering, I think I'm done vomiting. Sure I need water if I'm going to make it through the night, I stand to walk to the kitchen, although the urge to crawl is tempting.

The light of the refrigerator temporarily blinds me when I reach in for the filtered water pitcher. Liquid gurgles into a glass as I pour, and I sip cautiously. The cold, clean taste soothes my parched throat. As much as I want to guzzle it down, I know better and shuffle to my couch with the cup.

I gently lay my head down on a throw pillow and close my eyes, willing my headache to subside. It doesn't take long to doze off.

A mountain stream trickles, and it sounds like thunder. A woodpecker hammers against a tree as if someone turned up the volume. Leaves rustle under my feet. The acrid musk of something attracts me. I know it's a disgusting smell, but like the odor of gasoline, I'm strangely drawn to it. It gets stronger as I approach a rock the size of a shed. My heart beats against my chest. The aroma overpowers me. What I want is behind the boulder, but I'm afraid to find it. I stop abruptly, and something bumps into me. Something big. Ice flows through my veins as I imagine long, sharp teeth, and I turn toward it.

I bolt upright on the couch, panting. The gentle breeze of the ceiling fan chills my damp skin. My head is throbbing with pain. Sipping water, I wonder if I can stomach a little food to buffer some aspirin.

I go to the kitchen for crackers and notice my phone is lit up on the counter with a text. Sierra messaged me moments ago. Another comes in.

"I'm cming w/u"

I scroll down to read the previous text.

"FML, dreamt about fking a bear"

Thank God.
I'm relieved because I don't want to do this alone, and Sierra is my best friend. I pull a box of saltines down from the cabinet. Nibbling on one, I eat slowly to determine my stomach's reaction. I still feel okay, so I let my mind wander. If Sierra comes with me, we can leave sooner. Splitting the cost of gas and a place to live will help out with finances. I have a hefty savings account in place after the last time I left Tattoo Junkie knowing I might do it again.

A couple crackers in, I'm brave enough to try something for my headache. I text Sierra.

"Coffee?"

I snort, thinking maybe I'll get a bear claw.

"BRT"

The pink light of dawn filters in through the window. Sierra must be pretty freaked out if she's awake and on her way over. Knowing how she'll drive me crazy with her fidgeting, I'm going to suggest a walk on the beach while we talk. I'm in my room changing when Sierra knocks.

"Coming!"
My headache is still in full force, and I wince.

Sierra breezes in when I open the door. "You look like hell."

"Feel like it too. You were supposed to stop me."

Plopping down on the couch with a
poof
she says, "I tried, but you wouldn't have anything to do with it. You were flirting with some guy who kept buying your drinks. Until you said something that made him drop you like a hot potato."

I close my eyes as a flush creeps over my cheeks as I recall the look of horror on his face. I fall into a chair across from her. "I told him I was into bears."

Sierra chuckles. "That would do it." She sobers. "Does that mean you dream about screwing them too?"

"Kind of. I'm all worked up over a guy, but a bear is in the dream too.”

Sierra taps a fingernail against her bottom lip. "It's a message." She rubs the tattoo on her breast. "This was pulsing like a second clit or something. My guy that was suddenly a bear licked it, and I think I might have come in my dream."

"Yes, and--" My face heats up again. "Um, does it feel good when you touch it?"

Sierra's eyes widen, and she nods. Her leg is jiggling.

"Let me grab my sneakers and let's go."

A half hour later an ocean breeze is blowing my hair into my face, and gritty sand is exfoliating my feet. Headache gone, I'm reveling in the sweet fried flavor of a doughnut which seems to taste better than usual.

Sierra swallows down a bite of her cinnamon roll. "So what's your plan?"

"I feel like I'm supposed to move to the mountains, so I think I'll drive to the Rockies and check out tattoo shops in the Vail area. I'd love for you to come with me."

A wave swims around Sierra's feet, and her steps splash cold March water on my legs. She says, "I think we're supposed to go to the mountains too. The Rockies sound like a good place to start."

"I have about three months’ worth of money saved. You?" I sip my coffee, and its bitter flavor chases the sweetness out of my mouth.

"Not that much, but if we take your car I can sell mine."

"That works." Since my father died I don't have any family to speak of. I know Sierra isn't close to her mom, but I wonder what she might be leaving behind. "Do you think you can be ready to go in a couple weeks?"

She stops walking, and I turn to her widened eyes. She asks, "Can't we go sooner? Something's telling me it needs to be now, you know?"

I do. "Okay, I guess we're quitting today." A smile forms on my face.

"I guess we are." Sierra breaks into a huge grin. "And you know what? I'm looking forward to Ray's reaction. That guy's such an asshat."

Satisfaction floods my mind. I chuckle back. "Me too."

C
arly

D
ay two of our drive
, and I’m even more exhausted than before we left. My dreams are so intense I’m beginning to feel as if they’re real. I even thought I saw my dream guy at the last rest stop.

I now know more about Sierra than anyone should. She probably thinks the same about me. Both of us were raised as an only child, and our stories are quite similar. I grew up without a mom, and she didn't have a dad. I'm beginning to love her like a sister.

Sierra's soft snoring is keeping time with the broken white lines blinking by as I cruise down I-70. As if a magnet is pulling us, our direction feels right, and the tug is stronger the closer we get. Still no clue about our purpose, the unknown is a mix of excitement and fear for me.

A glance at the dash, which tells me we need to stop for gas soon. When we do I'll Google where to stay tonight. Determined to make the most of my looks, Sierra is in the process of giving me a makeover. I twirl a burgundy red strand of hair around my finger and catch the color in my peripheral vision. Even though I never imagined myself with this shade, my tresses do make my blue eyes look more vibrant.

Just over the Colorado border a rest area is a few miles ahead, and I decide that's where I'll stop. Sierra wakes when I pull off the interstate. Stretching her arms above her head, she says, "Are we in Colorado yet?"

"We are. Ready to drive?" I yawn and cut the engine when we're by the pumps. The odor of gasoline pricks my memory, and I recall the pungent musk of my dream. I shake my head to clear my thoughts.

"Sure, it's my turn to fill up." She gets out and pulls a debit card from her back pocket.

Chilly air blows around us, and I shove my hands in my pockets. "I'm going to go pee. Want anything?" I'm craving something salty and a cola.

"Naw, I'll come in when I'm done."

The crisp air is light, and the sensation of my lungs not filling is strange. I know altitude means less oxygen, and I hope it won't be a problem when we climb a few more thousand feet to get to ski towns.

Metal racks by the convenience-store entry catch my eye when I yank the heavy door to get inside. Colorful real-estate brochures and ski maps make me stop, and I grab a few to peruse later. Only a few hours away from Vail, we need to make a decision.

Armed with slush drinks and chips after our stop, we drive back to the interstate. A map is slick in my fingers and rustles as I open it up. I ask, "Any ideas on what town we should pick?"

"I had another dream." She sends me a sideways glance. "I'm not so sure Colorado is where we need to be. The forest I was in makes me think of my childhood in New England."

My stomach sinks, and the icy liquid I just swallowed sticks in my throat. "How do you know? Aren't forests mostly the same?"

She sighs. "Not really, but it's more than how the woods appear. It's in my gut. I just know."

I can't argue with that. Something about this area seems off to me too. "Okay. I guess we keep going."

"Let's make sure. Why don't we stay somewhere around Grand Junction tonight and check out Vail tomorrow. If it still feels wrong, we keep going." Sierra is focused on the road, but by the way she's chewing her lip, I think she's as unsure as I am about what we're doing. With two days to second-guess ourselves, doubt is blossoming in our minds.

I say, "Hey, we'll figure it out. If not, I'll just cover our tattoos with something big, bold, and colorful."

She smiles. But we won't go crawling back to Venice Beach. Ray called us every name he could think of and promised to ruin any chance of a job in the entire state of California. Knowing the tattoo world is full of sexist men, the possibility exists.

I chew my lip, thinking about being homeless with everything I own sharing the space of my tiny Subaru with Sierra's belongings. I glance out the window but don’t see the breathtaking view that’s surely there.
What on earth are we doing?

W
e arrive
in Grand Junction and search for a diner. On the outskirts of town we find one that appears to fit our needs, especially since we passed a motel on the way. Shiny metal flashes the late-day sun in our eyes as we approach the diner’s entrance. A bell announces our arrival, and Sierra leads us to a booth on the edge. "I love to watch people. This place should be interesting." She winks at me and pulls a menu out from behind the napkin holder.

I grab one too, and the plastic is smooth and clean in my hands. Noticing the shine of the tabletop, I smile because the diner passes my sanitary guidelines. I clunk my elbows down and search for a tuna melt. Finding it, I don't need to look any further and put my menu away.

A waitress with long dark hair and tan skin that makes me think she is Native American arrives with two plastic tumblers full of water and napkin-rolled silverware. "Coffee tonight?"

Sierra answers, "No thanks, but we're ready to order."

Our meals arrive within minutes of us telling the waitress what we wanted. Sierra got the meatloaf with mashed potatoes and green beans. Ketchup squirts out of a bottle she squeezes over her plate. I bite into cheesy grilled bread and relish the familiar flavor of my favorite sandwich.

I swallow a mouthful. "This is so good."

Sierra just nods as she chews. The waitress returns with a water pitcher and asks, "Everything okay?"

I answer, "It's delicious."

"Be sure to save room for dessert. My grandmother Catori makes them, and you won't be sorry."

I smile at her with a closed mouth full of food. I'm so getting dessert now.

I lean back with a sigh. I'm comfortable and should stop. But I can never resist homemade baked goods. Scanning the menu, I smile when I see lemon meringue because that's Sierra's favorite.

"I need to use the restroom. Order me chocolate cream pie, please." As I walk toward the bathroom, swinging white doors part when the waitress exits the kitchen and reveal a tiny old woman. Our eyes lock for a moment before the doors shut, and a chill runs down my spine.
Weird.

The scent of cut pine overpowers me when I enter the ladies’ room, and dizziness makes me stop in my tracks. I'm sure it's just the cleaning solution I smell, but I envision the forest in my dreams. I imagine the gray rock I saw and recall patches of pale green lichen adorning it, making it look like damask fabric. It’s surrounded by pine, birch, and other trees I can't name. When I wash my hands, the cool water of the ancient tap makes me think of the gentle trickle of a brook. If I didn't know better, I would expect to see my bear when I leave the bathroom.

I don't. But what I do see is just as unsettling. The old woman is standing by our table with her hand on the top of Sierra's breast, over her tattoo. I hurry toward them and dwarf the woman with my six feet of height.

A strong bony hand grips my wrist when she turns to me, and I'm trapped by her nearly black eyes. She flips my hand over and traces my tattoo. I'm tempted to pull away, but courage makes me speak instead. "You must be the woman that makes the desserts."

She scoffs at me. "You are strong. Bravery lives in your heart, but you're afraid to use it. Don't be. It will be tested, and you're a worthy opponent."

Okay, a simple yes would have worked. "You can see our tattoos, can't you?"

"I feel them, but I cannot see. Only the chosen can see." The woman's face is a roadmap of wrinkles, and I guess she's close to one hundred years old.

I look at Sierra, and she shrugs. The old woman is still holding my hand, and I pull gently to remove it from her papery grasp.

I ask, "Do you know what we were chosen for?"

Catori’s voice changes to something that shouldn’t come out of her tiny body. "The bear is a courageous spirit. This clan has called you. Go east, and you'll find a great and powerful love. In return you'll provide the future."

Tiny hairs prick at the back of my neck. What the hell does that mean?
She pats my arm and in her grandmotherly voice says, "Eat, you will like my dessert."

I watch as she wanders off. Sliding into the booth again, I feel a chill run through me, and I clasp my hands together to still them. I whisper to Sierra, "What was all that?"

Sierra shakes her head as she puts a forkful of pie in her mouth. Speaking over her food, she says, "I don't know, but oh my God, is this good."

I glance toward the kitchen and see that Catori’s back is to me as she pushes her way in. Her long silver braid sways, and she shuffles like the old lady she is. I shake off the idea she was anything more and dig into the chocolate cream to let the sweet flavor invade my mouth.