Cauchemar (12 page)

“Have you ever felt like you know less about yourself than other people do?” Hannah brushed back her hair, and tried to smile. “I guess I've been thinking a lot about this friend I had when I was younger.”

Callum growled in the back of his throat. “A boyfriend?”

“A girlfriend, actually.” Hannah let the word hang in the air, realizing after she spoke it aloud that it was true. “Her name was Sarah Anne.”

Callum scrunched up his eyes. “I'm picturing a curvy little blonde. Correct me if I'm wrong.”

Hannah was silent.

“Now I'm picturing the two of you and a room full of pillows.”

“Nicely done. She was blonde and very beautiful, a textbook cheerleader in the making. Her older brother, too, except he was a bit off. Had been his whole life, but moving here changed him. I've been running it over and over in my head, and I think there was something else wrong with him. Maybe he was possessed.”

“I thought you didn't believe in that stuff,” Callum teased her.

The last day Hannah had seen Sarah Anne and Jacob was branded imperfectly in her mind, full of holes and confusion. She stroked her belly, struggling to center herself. There was no greater comfort than being fully known and accepted by another, but would Callum judge her as she judged herself?

“There was a fire at their house. A terrible fire.” Hannah found it hard to say the words. “Jacob died. Sarah Anne and I were downstairs, and we managed to squeeze out through a window, but he was upstairs.” She frowned at the field. The verdant patches stood out in contrast to the thirsty brown grass. “It moved so quickly that we barely got out.”

“Jesus.” Hannah could see the questions hiding in Callum's eyes. “How old were you?”

“Barely a teenager,” Hannah whispered.

Callum whistled. “You must've been terrified.” He pulled her into his arms. “But that was a long time ago. Why are you worrying about it now?”

“Because of those photos I found today, and because Sarah Anne's back in town. She came to Mae's funeral. A part of me felt like I was being reunited with my best friend, but a bigger part of me felt like she's a stranger. Funny thing is, I keep finding photos of her, like breadcrumbs.”

“You should see her,” Callum suggested. “It'd be good for you to get out with some friends. I know Mae kept a tight leash on you, but you can make choices for yourself now.”

Hannah missed the easy intimacy of her friendship with Sarah Anne. Her life, and her body, was changing day by day. She'd grown used to Mae's good advice, and now that the woman was gone, she had no one but herself to rely on. “As much as I miss Sarah Anne, I feel like that night will always be between us.”

“I'm sure she doesn't blame you. You were just kids.”

So was Jacob
. Hannah didn't voice her thought. Instead, she whispered, mostly to herself, “They said later that the fire started upstairs.”

“You think he started it?”

“I don't know what to think. Never mind my rambling.” She swatted at another mosquito.

“Hey, you're almost due for another check-up. Should I give Dr. Merrick a call?” He avoided her eyes.

He knew how she hated doctors, how frightened she was of the prescribed tests, although he didn't understand why, and she couldn't explain it to him without sounding crazy. What would she say?
I feel like I'm cursed. I feel like my very genes are barbed and deviant.
Crazy
, she thought.

“Everything feels fine with the baby. I'm getting fat right on schedule, no more or less than expected,” she said. “Soon I'll be wearing a muumuu, and then in a short few weeks I'll need you to cut a neck hole in a tent for me.”

“You're beautiful,” he said. “Truly. Now more than ever.”

She shook her head, dismissing his words. She was growing rustic in her pregnancy. With the near-permanent blush on her cheeks and her newly broad hips and chest, she'd pass for a milkmaid.

“Hannah,” he started, and exhaled. She could feel him fidgeting. He scanned the clearing and when he looked at her again, his eyes harbored fear. “I love you.”

Hannah took an involuntary step back. The buzzing of the mosquitoes filled her ears, making the silence seem longer. She'd yearned to hear those words from him, but now that she had what she'd wanted, she felt only dread. The most terrifying thing about love was losing it. The thought that it could crust and harden like honey in a jar.

She didn't know what she'd done to earn it, and so had no idea how to keep it.

Hannah tugged him by his belt loops, wanting to be transported away from the hungry mosquitoes and her aching body. She wanted suddenly to be back in those first, uncomplicated moments between them. To be able to make the choice to accept his love and love him back without being bound by pregnancy.

Callum cocked his head. “Hannah?”

He was waiting for a response, and she found that she had none. He looked down at her as if she were some perplexing stain he'd just noticed. As if he didn't know her.

“Let's head back,” he said, disengaging.

“Sure.” She sounded eager and false to her own ears. “It's too hot, and I want to shower before tonight.”

“I didn't realize you were coming.” He was staring at the ground, lost in thought.

“I haven't seen you play in such a long time.”

“I'd love it if you came.” Callum tripped over the words, as if hearing the echo of his earlier words. “I'm just surprised.”

He turned around, his palm a visor over his eyes, then walked past her.

The bar was dim and loud, and Callum seemed fitful beside her. He rubbed his hands together like a fly.

“They're late,” Callum said for the third time. Beside the stage, the bar owner waved at them, then gestured to his wrist. “Fuck. This is why I need an actual band. Nobody's ever going to take me seriously if I'm playing with amateurs who can't even manage to be on time for a gig.”

Hannah stalled one of his hands in her own, and made an empty shushing sound. Leah paced in front of them, kohl-lined eyes shining. Her dark hair hung halfway down her back. She was taller than Hannah remembered, in a dark crochet dress that showed a black bra.

“They'll be here,” Hannah said, tickling his palm with her finger.

He squeezed her hand then let go, downing the shot glass of tequila that Leah handed him. “They might not,” he sighed and slunk away toward the stage.

Leah watched him go, then took his seat. “This has been happening lately. He hasn't been playing as much, so people are forgetting his name.” So close, Hannah could see the girl's pretty lipsticked pout. “He's been busy with other things, I guess.”

“Where's Tom?”

Leah's eyebrows rose. “Cal didn't tell you?” There was a note of delight in her voice. “Tom's on to Florida now. He thinks he might be interested in surfing. Writing about it, or something. It happens often around here. People come down, then pass through.”

“You're sticking around.” Hannah meant it as a question, but it came out flat.

Leah smiled. “I'm more serious than most.” She glanced at Hannah's belly, the hint of a curve beneath her green dress. “You're getting far along, aren't you?”

“Day by day.”

Callum appeared through a break in the crowd, his hair beginning to stand up from having been fingered so much. He motioned them over. Leah sprung up like a mouse trap and followed him with a whispered, “I'll take care of it.”

Hannah settled back into the booth, trying to quiet a wave of unease. The smoke in the club stuck to her arms and neck, which were coated in bug spray. She stank of chemicals. Earlier she'd watched, unbelieving, as a fat mosquito had stalked gingerly up the sheen of her freshly sprayed arm, and feasted.

For a while, she was happy to try to make out the music coming through the speakers.
John Lee Hooker
, she thought, surprised to recognize the tune. One of Callum's favorites. She closed her eyes and hummed along, half-listening to snippets of conversations and the salvo of laughter.

A short-haired girl in a man's striped shirt tapped on the table and asked if the other seats were taken.

“Yes. Wait, maybe not,” Hannah said, realizing Callum and Leah had been gone for a long time. “You can take the whole booth.”

“Thanks.” The girl smiled sweetly and waved to a group of teenagers behind her, their piercings glinting, as Hannah stood and surrendered the table.

Hannah circled the club twice. A young girl two-stepped with a white-haired man, her head bowed to follow his complicated steps. He chucked her under the chin. “Don't look at my feet,” the old man chastised.

Hannah stood by the bar on her tiptoes, and a familiar grin shone at her like a beacon.

“You're Callum's girl,” the man said with perpetual good humor. “I've been drumming with him for a while. I've seen you at some of our shows. Name's Stuart.”

“Right. I'm Hannah,” she said and took his offered hand. His wrist was thick with a garland of veins. “How's it going?”

“I was slated to be in the band tonight, but I just got the call from the rest of the crew and they're pulling out.”

Hannah's heart fell. Callum needed this. More than money, more than the joy of playing onstage, he fed on adulation. The energy of the crowd satisfied a need that was separate from what she could give him. “That's awful.” She sighed. “I'll go find him.”

“Hey,” the drummer pulled her back gingerly by the arm. “I know it's not my place, but Callum hasn't been looking too good.”

“What do you mean?”

“He's looking skinny, you know? Like he's on edge. Is he into drugs again? I only ask 'cause I caught the tail end of it last time, and he had a hell of a time pulling himself out.”

Hannah flinched. “How long ago?”

“A couple years. He had the same hungry look he's got now.”

Hannah took a deep breath, trying to rein in her suddenly galloping heartbeat. “What drugs?”

The drummer fidgeted with his drumsticks, tapping them on his thighs. “I'm sorry, but it's not really my place to say. You should ask him.”

She searched the man's face, but it was guileless. “Thanks for the concern,” she murmured, as the owner of the club came to stand beside them, nodding briefly at Hannah.

“The rest of your band never came. It really fucked us,” he growled to the drummer. “Look, Cal's a good kid, plays a good solo, but y'all need to work out your schedules. I had to take back the advance. We've already had complaints.”

Stuart sighed. “It's not his fault. This gig meant a lot to him. It's these young kids …”

“Don't matter to me. You're here, you get paid. You're not, fuck you, too.”

“We could do a real stripped-down set? Just vocals, guitar, and my drums?”

“Something tells me Cal's not in any shape to carry a set right now.” The man grimaced. “He's getting shit-faced with that girl out back. Ask me, she's bad news.” Stuart cleared his throat, his eyes darting toward Hannah, but the club owner kept speaking. “She wanted to buy a bottle of tequila. That dumb bartender I hired last week saw a bra strap and handed it over. Now I have to fire him and that's another thing Cal's cost me. Last I saw they were taking turns sucking the last few drops from it.”

Hannah moved through the graffiti-speckled hallway, past the kitchen, loud with Spanish curses and thick with grease smoke, and stopped at the open door to the back alley. She had to crane her neck to see them fully, lit by a car's headlights against the brick wall.

It hit her like boiling water, searing down her chest and pooling in her stomach. She felt it sloshing there. Callum's hands lost in the nest of Leah's hair, their tongues fighting, an image that would never fade.

She said his name. Rap music rang out from a car in the parking lot and the sound of chatter squeezed out past her. But he heard her. He turned around and his mouth, moist from Leah's, quivered like a sound wave.

Hannah retreated wordlessly. She knew he would follow, even if Leah pawed pleadingly at his chest. She knew he would follow and she couldn't bear to look at him.