Life Is but a Dream (14 page)

The buildings are uneven. Slanted roofs touch up against shorter flat ones. Other buildings are set apart with driveways or skinny alleys between them. All of the ones with stores are wrong. It’s obvious the buildings were meant to be homes. The shops are intruding into living rooms and kitchens.

I try to keep track of the people I see. I watch who goes in which door or which car, but it’s hard. Things here happen without planning. There’s no routine. Outside the Wellness Center, not everyone moves on the same schedule. It makes me nervous to view the chaos that comes with people acting independently. Coming face-to-face with the world, I feel anxious—like being shut in a dark closet with a hidden ghoul breathing on my neck. But Alec is a light in the dark. Being scared doesn’t scare me in the same way when I’m with him.

I grip his arm and he holds me.

—
Looks like there’s a place up there
— he says over the humming of car engines. He points to a pale blue building on the other side of the street. Above the wraparound porch is a sign that reads
THE QUIET MAN
in large loud letters and
SANDWICHES, SOUP, & SNACKS
in smaller ones. With the sun at his back, Alec looks skinny and frail. But frail like flames that dart away from a fire because there’s something fierce about him too—something warm when pressed close to me, but it will burn others if they get too near. —
Want to check it out? I’m starving.
—

—
Okay
— I say even though I’m not hungry at all.

We lock elbows, cross the street, and walk into the store. The chime of jingle bells on the door greets us. —
I hope they have burgers
— Alec whispers. His mouth hangs open and he pretends to drool.—
Big, greasy, disgusting burgers that soak through the bun and drip cheese all over my hands.
—

There’s a familiar smell of cinnamon and firewood inside. It is the same kind of quaint general store found in all of the out-of-the-way towns my parents like to stop in whenever we’d load up the car for a road trip. These stores are all the same everyplace in America and I’m always afraid of moving too fast in them. I worry that any quick move will send up a cloud of dust the size of a sandstorm in the desert.

I walk slow and quiet between the heavy wooden shelves. Shifting my feet in a delicate ballet through the aisles, I pass rows of jam and syrup and cookies from brands that don’t exist in the electric wonderland of supermarkets placed every two or three miles in my town. I whisper the brand names in my head and commit them to memory as we make our way to the back of the store where there’s a deli case and a chalkboard menu.

—
It doesn’t look like a burger joint
— Alec mumbles, reading the sandwich descriptions scribbled out in pink chalk.

We’re the only ones in the store besides the lady at the cash register by the door and the man in the apron behind the sandwich counter. They’re both old. The woman’s hair is mostly gray but there are a few black strands here and there. Her skin is gray too, the way old people’s skin always seems to turn gray. Or maybe it just looks gray because of the shadows. Or maybe her lipstick absorbs all of the light. It’s such a bright crayon red, painted on larger than her lips really are. I’ve often wondered why old women do that. Why they try to cover where their lips have gone thin. It’s the same as bald men wearing hairpieces—it exaggerates what they are trying to hide.

The man at the deli counter must be the woman’s husband because they look alike. That’s another thing about old people. Once they’ve been married long enough, they grow to look the same. They also learn to communicate without words. When the woman clears her throat, the man stops what he’s doing and turns. As Alec and I approach the back, the couple follows us with their eyes. One from the front and one from the back as if we only exist in their line of sight and if either of them blinks, we’ll vanish.

A shiver runs through me and I pull Alec closer.

I used to have a recurring nightmare when I was little. I would be lost somewhere, either in the mall or an airport or some other place like that and this couple would find me. Always the same couple no matter where I’d been. They always promised to bring me home to my parents, but they never did. Their real plan was to eat me and I fell for it each time. I trusted them. And every time, the dream would end with their hands turning into claws—their mouths growing sharper teeth to tear me apart.

The old couple in the store, with their dry expressions, gray skin, and gray eyes—they remind me of the couple from my dream. I can almost see their faces waiting to change. Dr. Richards would say I was projecting. She would tell me that my fear of the world is finding a way of expressing itself in an old nightmare tucked away in the attic of my mind.
Irrational
is a word she might use to describe it. But her words don’t make it any less real. She doesn’t understand that my dreams are like instincts. Right now, they are telling me this place isn’t good.

I squeeze Alec’s hand, slightly pulling him away. —
We should go.
—

—
Without eating?
— Alec asks with eyebrows arched to the ceiling and his stomach rumbling and growling.

The old couple’s eyes remain locked on us. Intense and serious and humming with static so strong that I know it’s there even if I can’t see it.

My stomach does somersaults inside me. —
It’s just … this place gives me the creeps.
— Alec turns his head and snuggles his face against my neck where his breath is warm on my skin. I let out a long, slow breath and let my heart fall into the same steady rhythm as his.

—
Let’s see what they have first
— he says. —
Okay?
—

I bite my lip and nod, never taking my eyes off the old man who now has both hands on the counter. They are in the shape of fists and are as square as cinder blocks.

Alec has a way of tilting his body as he stands that makes people uncomfortable. I’ve seen him do it with the nurses and they react by stepping away and sounding suddenly irritated when they speak. He does the same thing here in the store and I see the man’s cheeks flush with a color halfway between annoyance and hatred. —
What can I get you?
— he asks in a voice too big for the narrow space between the deli counter and the wall behind him.

—
Ladies first
— Alec says. —
What do you want?
—

I feel confused and dizzy inside and simply shrug. I try to read the words on the chalkboard but the letters don’t seem to make sense. I mean, I can read words like
ham
and
turkey
and
pesto
but I can’t put them together into thoughts because all I can focus on is the old man’s eyes which spin in slow-motion like gasoline rainbows rising off the blacktop in summertime—his knuckles
tap-tapping
faster than seconds ticking off a clock.

Alec stares at him. —
Easy, man! She’s thinking
— he snaps. —
Can’t we even get a minute to decide?
—

The sound that comes from the man’s throat is the sound of a rhinoceros—the sound of horned rage deciding whether or not to charge. —
Take as long as you need … just as long as you kids really are planning to order something. Otherwise you’re just wasting my time.
—

Alec makes a show of looking around. —
I’m sorry. I didn’t notice the huge crowd! We must be keeping you from all these other customers.
—

—
Look here …—
the man growls threateningly.

Alec is about to start in on him again but I pull at his sleeve so that his ear is pressed against my mouth. —
I don’t want anything
— I whisper. —
I just want to go.
—

—
Yeah, okay
.— Alec nods in agreement, taking a step away. —
I don’t think I want anything either. Not anymore.
—

The old man’s face swells with blood. His cheeks puff with angry breaths of steam. I’m waiting for his mouth to explode with razor teeth and his fingers to become knives.

My hand darts toward my mouth and I begin sucking on my sleeve. The old man’s eyes grow steady. He stares at the piece of plastic wrapped around my wrist. It catches in the dim light at just the right angle to attract his attention. —
You kids from the hospital up the road?
—

Now Alec is the one who wants to leave.

He leads me back through the aisle as the man hollers for us to stay.

—
Linda? Call them up at the hospital. Tell them we got two of their kids down here in town. They’re probably searching for them
— he shouts over our heads to the lady in the front who already has the phone pressed to her ear.

On the way out, I take a last glance over my shoulder. The man is still hollering something to his wife but as soon as the sun touches my skin, his words sound like nothing more than noise.

CHAPTER

TEN

Alec and I run from the store. I sprint across the porch, leaping over the three creaky steps. The soles of my sneakers clap loudly on the sidewalk. My arms swing wildly. The sleeve of my sweatshirt slips off my shoulder, the hood falls halfway down my back, and the teeth from the zipper scratch my neck, but I still push faster. I don’t ever want to stop. I want to keep running all the way to heaven.

—
Sabrina, that way!
— Alec is waving for me to cut through the space between two buildings. The bottoms of my shoes are worn flat and my feet skid when I change directions. My right leg twists and I slip, scraping my knee and hands when I brace myself. A rash of blood dirties my skin, but I keep running. Alec grabs me—his arm hooks my waist even though my legs keep moving. —
You okay? That was a nasty spill.
—

—
I’m fine
.
Let’s just keep going
— I say, panting breathlessly.

—
We’re cool for now
— he says. —
We don’t have to kill ourselves running a marathon
.— He is bent over with his hands on his thighs trying to catch his breath. He wants to slow down. I don’t, but I trust him. I’ll go at his pace.

—
Okay, no running
— I tell him. —
But can we just … keep going
?—

—
Sure. Where?
—

—
Away from here … from those people
.—

The old couple, they were static people. They are the first I’ve seen since going to the hospital. The first to show it outwardly anyway, because I still have my suspicions about Dr. Richards and some of the nurses and the girl who wanted me to stay away from Alec. Out here they don’t hide. Out here they are stronger and will attack like vampires.

I’m remembering how dangerous it is outside the walls of the hospital and I’m frightened. My hands are shaking. Sweat runs down my face, but I’m shivering. Alec puts his arm around me. His hand rests on my collarbone where my heart flutters rapidly.

—
Hey, relax
— he says in a soothing voice. —
You’ll give yourself a heart attack. It’s fine. We’re not going to get in trouble. Even if they find us, we didn’t really do anything. We’ll just go back with them and that’s it.
—

I’m not sure I want to go back, but I’m not sure I want to be here either. I want to be someplace else—someplace where there is only us. If we keep walking, we’ll find it. The sky is already starting to change. The blue is drying up and disappearing.

—
Whoa! You see that?
— Alec leaves my side and takes off in the direction of a parking lot behind a drugstore. His eyes are as large as moons and he is practically skipping, taking little leaps as he surges ahead. —
A shopping cart! Not fenced in and free to go?
— His hands grasp onto the handle of the rusty cart and he immediately spins it around in a squeaky circle. —
This really is our day. Come on. Hop in. I’ll push you first.
—

He smiles at me like in a dream. The sun bleaches away his hair—bleaches away his clothes—and I see him like I did on the tire swing in my backyard. He invites me to get into the cart with the same playful voice as he invited me to join him on the swing. Only it’s happening for real—in the present instead of the future. And I feel like the end of the world must be getting closer. It’s all coming true just the way I imagined.

I’m chewing on my sleeve but still Alec can see I’m smiling.

—
Come on … you’re not chicken, are you?
— he teases, spinning the cart in rapid circles that leave rainbow trails in their wake. It has one broken wheel that keeps it going round and round like some strange piece of playground equipment.

I climb inside with Alec’s help. The back of my sweatshirt rides up my spine as I fix myself into the wire cage. The skinny metal bars feel good against my skin. I clutch my fingers through the tiny spaces and hold on as Alec pushes—slow at first but picking up speed as the ground slopes.

I watch the trees race by, trying to predict which of them will fall first when this world is wiped away. Alec is grunting and laughing, pushing as fast as he can. The parking lot reaches a dead end out in front of us. Beyond that is a field of grass tall enough to tickle the back of my knees and I’m speeding toward it. Eventually the cart is speeding too fast for Alec to keep up and his hands slip from the red bar and I hear him tumble to the blacktop.

The wind rushes against my face, reminding me of the first drop on a roller coaster. My father and I have ridden every one in Southern California. We always wait extra long in line to be in the front. My mom thought we were crazy to ride them at all, let alone the first car. I loved the feeling of being safely out of control. But I always kept my eyes closed. My dad kept his open, teasing that I missed half the fun. He didn’t realize all he missed though.

I close my eyes as the cart rolls swiftly downhill, wobbling and unsteady. The sky catches on fire. It burns hot and white. The metal wheels strike a crack in the pavement and there is a moment where I am flying, screaming happily. I open my eyes and see the clouds crashing toward me. It feels as though I will climb higher forever … until I start to fall.