Uncertain (4 page)

Kevin put his hand on my shoulder. “That’s scary.”

I didn’t want to tell him the whole dream. I didn’t want to say my mother was in the dreams, and I didn’t want to tell him about the woman with the convertible. I just didn’t. He was tired, and that crap really didn’t matter anyway.

“How do you know it’s not just a normal nightmare?”

I thought for a minute, tracing the logo with my finger again. My stomach dropped. “I guess I really don’t.” The question was totally reasonable. The dream
could
have been a normal nightmare.

“Do you want me to stay? I could stay on the sofa? Well, ugh. That might be weird with your grampa here.” He made a funny face.

I smiled. “Thanks for the offer though.”

Kevin looked out the windshield. It had started to snow. The tiny flakes fell in front of the headlights. The headlights reflecting on the white garage door were the only light so I could see his face. It was his turn to fidget. He scratched the steering wheel with his thumb. “I’ve been wondering—about Chloe.”

“Chloe?” I asked.

“That was the girl who had the baby in California.”

“Oh, right,” I said, surprised that he remembered.

“I wonder if she’s OK. I wonder if the baby is OK. I wonder why you had to go there.”

“I wonder that too.” I nodded.

“More questions than answers, I guess.”

I didn’t respond.

“At least you had a witness, right? You’d probably feel insane if you hadn’t.”

“Maybe
more
insane,” I said, putting my hands between my knees.

“Stooop. Maybe some things just can’t be explained. Maybe that’s our burden to bear. We just have to know—or trust—that it happened for good reasons.”

A thought occurred to me. “Wait. Maybe you weren’t supposed to be there, and I was supposed to die?”

“Mel, c’mon. Don’t do that.”

“No, no. It’s possible,” I said with raised eyebrows, looking at him. I could barely see his features. I could only tell that his hair was messy, as if he had actually been sleeping when I called. I suddenly felt terrible for bothering him with this so late.

“I’m gonna head back in,” I told him.

“You can’t leave after saying that! I won’t be able to sleep!”

“I don’t actually believe it. I’m just tired,” I lied.

“Hmmm…” He eyeballed me. “Well, because I don’t believe you, I’d like to point out that you wouldn’t have actually died because it’s not like I gave you CPR or something. You just passed out.” He looked at me and pointed. “And that’s very understandable.”

I nodded. “Right.”

He put the sucker back in his mouth. “So I had to watch you snore it up for a few hours, and then you were totally fine.”

I swatted him with my hand and smirked. “Shut up.”

“Everything is good. Get some sleep, and I bet you’ll feel better when the sun comes up.”

“OK.”

He leaned over and hugged me. Then I opened the door with my sucker in hand and jogged on my tiptoes back to the front door. I went in the house and back to bed.

I was up early the next morning. I lay in bed for a while, just staring at the ceiling and listening to the heavy wind move the wooden shutters outside my room. I was in denial over what my mother had told me in the dream. Dave was doing so much better now. I must have been controlling the dream, making it up because he had just been on my mind since I was worried about him. I planned to go over and see if he wanted to play some cards.

That thought brightened my mood, and I sat up in my bed, deciding to get ready a little early for a change.  I hopped in the shower. I was almost cheerful. While I was in the shower, I thought about making Dave some snickerdoodles. Those were his favorite.

I finished up and opened the door to let the steam out.

“Mel, honey?” My grampa appeared in the doorway with his hands in his front pockets.

“Yeah?” I answered, rinsing my toothbrush and putting it back into the white toothbrush holder. I dried off my hands.

“It seems that there’s some news.” His expression was concerned.

I froze. “What news?”

“Dave. He’s taken a turn for the worse, I’m told. He’s back in the hospital.” My grampa looked down as he told me.

My stomach sank hard. No way. “How can that be? I thought he was out? He seemed totally fine,” I said, anxiety building up inside me.

My grampa nodded slowly and pushed his lips together. “Things aren’t going well anymore. He’s not responding to any of the medicine they gave him.”

I looked at him without speaking.

“What do we do?” I asked him, finally.

“You just might want to go and visit when you can.”

“I’ll go right now,” I said, waiting for him to step aside so I could walk out the door.

A few minutes later, I walked into Dave’s room. His mother was sitting next to his bed reading a thick paperback, and his father was angrily propping the wall up in the opposite corner, arms crossed. Dave was all hooked up. The room should’ve looked cheerful with the morning sun beaming through the windows, but the sun didn’t help in the least. This room looked like a jail cell.

Dave’s mother looked over at me when I walked in. “Amelia! Oh my goodness, Dave, you have company. It’s Amelia!” She leaned in to whisper loudly. “Daddy and I will go down for some coffee so you can have time to talk.” She patted his arm, standing up. His dad stood and just shuffled out the door behind her.

I walked up to his bed. Dave had grown a short, sparse, black beard. He had an oxygen mask on, and his chest moved with his breaths more than it normally did. He attempted a smile at me and his oxygen mask straps moved to push apart his long eyelashes. I put my hand on his puffy forearm. He moved his other hand to lay it on top. of mine Then he pulled down his oxygen mask so he could talk to me.

“Dave, leave it on!”

“No, I just want to talk for a second. It’s not doing much anyway.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s not fixing me. I can’t be fixed anymore,” he said in a raspy voice, unbothered by what that meant.

I hadn’t believed it fully until that moment. Dave was who I was losing. Sadness surrounded me, and I had to pull a chair over to his bed. My knees felt wrong. My hands began to shake. I’d never talked to someone who knew they were going to die soon. I was filled with absolute dread, and it thickened my airway.

“Melia, I am not going to get out of here. But it’s OK.”

“What does that even mean? How can you even say that?” I felt a surge of anger and something else that felt like disgust. Disgust at the idea that he was giving in.

“Because it’s true. I’m OK with it.” He barely got the last part out before coughing terribly.

“Dave, you don’t have to talk. Put the oxygen back on.” My voice cracked.

“No, I have more to say. I want to tell you that I love you in a complicated way.”

“Dave—” I whispered, my throat thickening even more.

He held his hand up, and he coughed. “I’m serious,” he said, finally.

“OK,” I said.

“I just mean that there are many kinds of love.”

I nodded.

“So, don’t worry. I’m OK.”

“K,” I choked out. Then, I had a wild thought. I thought about my dream where my hands were blue. Maybe it was one of the things I could do when I needed it?  I’d delivered a baby and fought off a bad guy. I had been super strong and super-fast. Maybe the blue hands dream meant I could heal him? Excitement and desperation collided in my head and in my voice.

“Dave, wait. Maybe I can help. Let me think.” I swallowed hard and tried to concentrate.

“I have this…this thing happened to me. I knew how to do stuff but it only came when I needed it.” I didn’t want to tell him about California because I would sound ridiculous. I was reminded what my mother had said. In the dream she didn’t say, ‘You’ll lose someone unless you heal them.’ She had only said I would lose someone close to me. I needed a couple minutes to be able to speak again. “Maybe I can heal you in like a second or something. Please just wait.” I had to try.

I held my trembling hands out flat over his chest and waited. I thought maybe they’d glow or tingle or like that. Anything. I rubbed my hands together and held them over his chest again. I waited. After a couple of minutes, Dave set a warm hand on mine and began to move my hands away, but I pleaded with him not to in a hard whisper, my eyes clamped shut. My teeth were clenched.

“Dave, please just let me try. Just a minute.
Please
.”  He removed his hands from mine and coughed, holding his chest. I stood there with my hands held stiffly over him, waiting for something wonderful to happen. At one point I felt my chest leap, thinking I felt something happening. I concentrated hard and visualized Dave laughing and happy at home, tossing the ball up in the air. Playing cards with me. I waited to feel something.

I didn’t.

Clearly, neither did he. 

As I realized this, I opened my eyes and looked at him. He had a sad expression on his face as he watched me. I cried now, and Dave gently took his fluffy, warm hands and set them on either side of mine. He held them against his chest as I cried.

“Melia, it’s not supposed to go that way. I learned while I was sleeping that I was here for many reasons. Reasons that make me proud.” He began to cough a horrible deep cough that seemed to have no end. His face was clenched and pained, and he breathed slowly afterward to be sure he would be able to speak again without coughing hysterically.

“What reasons? God, Dave, please stop being so fine with this,” I said, feeling angry. He’d given up. “Please don’t give up.”

“I’m not,” he said in defiance. “S’not my choice.  I’m OK with it, though.  One of my reasons was you.”

“What? What reason?”

“You were one of my reasons. So they could see.”

“See
what
?!” I cried again and knelt down at the side of Dave’s bed. I was furious that this horrible thing happening to my friend had somehow become about me.

“Please don’t cry, Melia. I’m OK. I’ll get more choices, and that’s good. You already saved me. Maybe I saved you a little bit too.”

“I don’t understand why I can’t do this. I could do stuff in California. Stuff that I couldn’t do before then.” I laid my head on his arm and cried.

“You can’t heal me Melia. Who do you think you are? Jesus or something?” He laughed and it turned into a horrible, crackling cough. He used a white handkerchief to cough into. He suddenly looked much older.

“Love you, Dave. I don’t know what to do.” I barely got the words out.

“Nothing. Do nothing. I’m fine. I’m probably going to come back
awesome
.” He paused to cough. “But I don’t want you to visit me anymore. It will only bum you out, and I’m not doing that. It’s too depressing for me.”

Dave patted my hand, smiled, and put his oxygen back on. “You’re very special, you know,” he said through the mask.

“Everyone’s special,” I said, looking down.

“Not like you, Melia.” He smiled. For the first time, I noticed crinkles around his eyes. “I’ll see you later.” His voice sounded muffled. “Don’t be sad.”

I wanted to hear from my mother so badly that I slept as much and as often as I could. I only got up to do things I couldn’t ignore. The weird part was that no matter how much I slept, I still felt exhausted. I had come up with the term ‘medically tired’ when explaining it to my grampa. I had been that way for more than a week.

I decided that I had mono, since that was a sickness that made you feel exhausted all the time. The only thing was that I didn’t have any other symptoms listed on the website where I got the information.

I dreaded hearing about Dave or thinking about him, so I would run the thought out of my mind as soon as I had it.

About a month had gone by since I’d worked, and although I didn’t have many bills, I felt as though that probably couldn’t go on for much longer. Not working and not earning money made me feel irresponsible. Kevin had called a few times, and I’d said enough to pacify him, I thought, and then I’d go back to sleep. I should have mentioned that I was sick, and that would’ve been the perfect excuse, actually. I planned to take that approach next time he called.

I heard a light knock at my door.

“Come in,” I said, turning onto my side so I could see the doorway.

My grampa pushed the door open carrying his coffee. “Hi, honey. Kevin is here.”

I rolled my eyes. I just wanted to sleep. I put my hands in my hair and looked at my grampa.

“Can you tell him I’ll call him later. I’m not feeling too good. I think I have mono.”

Concern crossed my grampa’s face.

“I can heeeaar you!” a voice called from downstairs. “Mono is only communicable by saliva, so I’ll take my chances. I’m coming up!”

I sighed and shrugged. “Fine.”

My grampa chuckled and waved Kevin up. He bounced into my room, stopping in front of my bed.

“
You
look terrible,” he declared. He stood in my doorway with his hands on the doorframe near his shoulders. His brown hair was longer than I was used to; it almost covered his ears.

“Oh, so nice of you to say,” I answered with obvious sarcasm. I threw myself back down onto the pillow and lay there.

“Do you think I’m going to go away or something?” he asked, making a grunting sound and sitting down on the floor next to my bed. “I’m worried about you. It’s my job to be annoying and check in on you when you blow off my phone calls.” He was using an announcer-style voice, which irritated me. “What’s going on? Because I don’t really think you’re sick.” He leaned over to feel my forehead.

I sat up after he moved his hand. I crossed my legs and fidgeted with the corner of my blanket. I sat there for a minute, not thinking about anything in particular, just scanning over recent events. I shrugged before answering. “It’s just a lot, Kev,” I told him, feeling my throat get thick.

“I know.” He paused. “That’s why I’m here. So, maybe talk through it with me?” He flicked my arm.

I didn’t respond.

“Do you think?” he urged. “Do you think talking might help?”

“Kinda depends on the person.”

“Well, it can’t hurt.” He got up from the floor and sat on the edge of my bed. He grabbed a handful of my dirty hair and pushed it behind my shoulder. “Do you really feel sick?” he asked.

“I’m just super tired.” I fidgeted some more. “And a little sad.” My stomach lurched at the thought that I’d admitted I was sad. I considered telling him about the dreams I’d had in the past, filling in the details that he didn’t know. But I couldn’t remember how much I’d told him before. I honestly didn’t want to sort out what he knew and what he didn’t know. Plus, I wasn’t feeling reasonable enough to stick to the facts.

“We need to get you up, Mel. Seriously. Take a shower, maybe get out of the house. It’s been too long.”

“What for? I could stay in this room for a year and it wouldn’t matter in the least, Kevin. Wouldn’t bother anyone.” I felt a little angry.

“
Really
. It wouldn’t matter?!” He was angry right back at me and raised his voice. His response surprised me, and I looked up at him.

“Stop yelling at me,” I said in defiance.

“Then stop acting idiotic. Get up, take control back. Don’t give in.”

I leaned forward. “It’s just so much, Kevin,” I said, putting my head in my hands and wondering why I hadn’t heard from my mother. Nearly a week had gone by without a single dream.

He stood up and put his hand on my back. “And you’re strong. You can handle it. You’re
so
strong.”

“I’m not really sure that’s true,” I admitted.

“Be sure. Believe me,” he said with confidence.

I sat there, miserable. I felt as though I couldn’t process everything that had happened. I only knew that I felt best exactly here, in my bed, where I was warm and I knew what to expect. Even my grampa had left me alone. Why wouldn’t Kevin? I lay back down on my bed. Kevin was still standing over me.

“Lean on me, Mel. I’m here for you. I promise.”

I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure what I felt, but relief was part of the feeling even though maybe not the whole feeling.

“What are you thinking?” he urged.

“I’m thinking, why aren’t you at work?”

“I’ve got the day off. Now, c’mon. What’s going on with you? You’re freaking me out.”

“I have a jar of beets in my mind. I have one jar, and I fill it and cap it off, and now my jar has too many beets. It’s too full, and I can’t get the cap on. I have several jars…” I trailed off. I shouldn’t have said it. I felt a release, but I wouldn’t let it last. I was angry at myself for giving him this bizarre analogy. I felt weak and useless. I was such a failure.

“I hate beets,” he said. “Now, I hate them more. C’mon.” He picked up my arm by my wrist and tugged. I knew he wasn’t leaving until I got out of this bed.

“OK. Let’s go to the bookstore. Actually, since I’m not working, let’s go get library cards. That’s free,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I looked out the window—the landscape was barren and depressing.

“OK, perfect.” He dropped my arm. “I’ll go hang out with your grampa while you get ready.”

I continued to sit on the bed after he closed the door. Part of me wanted to lie right back down. But I knew he’d just come upstairs again. I got up and I was ready in about 15 minutes.

“My gramma used to bring me here all the time when I was little,” I told Kevin as we walked into the library.

“I love the smell,” he said.

“I was just thinking that.” I was amazed at how a smell could bring me right back to when I was little. My gramma used to tell me that it was the smell of imagination and possibility. I thought back to my gramma, with her floral shirt peeking through her peach cardigan. I smiled at the memory of her slightly hunched shoulders carrying her special library book bag through the doors.

Kevin and I spent about an hour checking the place out. We both got a little excited about the selection there and checked out three movies, two woodworking books, a book on home additions, Kevin’s mother’s cookbook—really to show her that they had it—and three books on running your own business.

When we walked out of the library, just on the other side of the sliding doors we spotted Lanie, Kevin’s ex-girlfriend. We probably would’ve taken a quick right down the hall until she passed, but we were too late—she had already seen us. Her long blond hair was splayed over her fuchsia winter coat.

“Incoming,” I murmured to Kevin.

“Heyyyy!” Lanie gushed, stroking Kevin’s arm once she reached him.

“Oh, hey, Lanie! I didn’t even see you!” I wasn’t sure if he was lying.

“Hi, Mel,” Lanie said, giving me a hug. Her fruity essence was overwhelming. Like being pulled in by a giant strawberry.

“What brings you guys here?”

“Books!” Kevin said, cheerfully. “Just checking stuff out. How about you?”

“Well, I moved to an apartment nearby.” She pointed to the right. Her expressions were so childlike, it was impossible not to like her. With every word she said, her blue eyes seemed excited. “So this is my library now.” She patted her shoulder bag. “I’ve got to study for an exam.”

“Oh, that’s right. How is school going?” Kevin tugged on his earlobe with his thumb and forefinger.

“Ugh. It’s so hard. But I’m just doing my thang,” she said with a hip wiggle. “Hoping for the best.” She smiled widely again. Like pageant-wide.

“Well, that’s
great
.” Kevin started leaning as if he was going to walk. “Good luck on the exam.”

“Thanks!” she said in a burst. “Bye, Mel!” She waved at me as if she were a princess and I was six. We kept walking.

“Do you want me to call her back? See if that reality show guy can still get you in?” Kevin asked in a low voice as we walked away.

I laughed. “No. Tons of no.”

“She looked really good though,” he said.

“She always looks good,” I said.

“Have you ever noticed that she keeps her mouth in the form of the ending-sound of the last word she says?” Kevin asked.

“What?”

“She like…freezes her mouth in the same shape as the last sound of a word. For way longer than what’s natural.” He mocked her. “Did you hear about that tornado?” He kept his mouth in an O shape.

I laughed. “I hadn’t noticed that, Kevin. However did you tolerate it for so long?”

“Well, she smells good.”

“She smells like an artificial fruit market.”

He laughed. “Which smells good.” We walked to the car and got in. “What do you want to do now?” he asked. “Maybe go see how Dave is doing?”

I looked out at the parking lot and let my eyes fall out of focus. “He told me not to come. He said it bums him out.”

“I think it’s fine, Mel. He’ll be happy to see you.  I’ll tell him I talked you into it,” he said as he started the car.

“OK,” I agreed, pulling on my lip as the nerves built up inside me.

A little while later, we walked into Dave’s hospital room. The room was only lit by the window light and a small over-the-bed light. Dave’s mother’s paperback sat on the rolling tray next to Dave’s bed. As we walked in, I expected Dave to be sitting up. I was fully prepared to tell him that Kevin had dragged me here and it was his fault. I smiled a few times on the way to his room, trying to seem happy when I saw him so I wouldn’t seem so sad to him.

Once we were in the room, though, I heard the hum of the machines and another sound. I realized immediately that something was very, very wrong. Dave’s breaths sounded too loud, and they were just too far apart. I shot my eyes around the room. Mr. and Mrs. Phillips weren’t there. Dave was alone. His eyes were closed, and his chest moved drastically with every breath. I knew his condition was bad. I shot a look at Kevin, who had deep concern on his face as he looked at Dave. Dave’s mouth was partially open.

A nurse walked in. “I’m so glad you’re here. It’ll be any time now.” Her tone was gentle but straightforward. I made an odd sound.

For an instant, I thought about leaving, but I just as quickly decided against it.

The magnitude of the situation seemed to fill the whole room with a dense, unbreathable thickness.

I walked toward Dave lying in his bed. My movements felt slow and deliberate. When I reached him, I grabbed a fluffy hand.

“Dave?” I waited for a reaction. His eyes fluttered slightly, but that was all. I wasn’t sure it was even in response to hearing his name. I looked back at Kevin, who stood as still as a statue, staring.

I took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and raised my eyebrows. I couldn’t say his name again. It wouldn’t come out. I pushed my breath through my lips as if I’d just finished jogging, trying to pull myself together. I shook my head slowly and looked at the floor. I looked back up at Dave. His hair was grayer than ever and smashed on one side. His lips were pale and cracking from dryness. He wore an oxygen mask that had indented his face where the straps had been resting for so long. I put my fingers under the strap to adjust them.

“Dave?” My voice cracked. He had been right in what he’d told me. He wasn’t going to get out of here. He was dying right in front of me. He wasn’t getting out of this terrible room.

“I want to get closer to him,” I said to Kevin. I started fussing with the bedrail, but I couldn’t get it down. By this time, tears were dripping off my face onto the rail as I leaned over to try to figure it out. Frustration was building up in me.

“Stupid thing,” I said in anger. Kevin stepped up to where I stood.

“Let me see.”

I stepped aside. He got the rail down in one smooth action. I pulled a chair over to Dave and leaned on his bed, putting my face next to his head.

I did all I could think to do: I began to sing “You Are My Sunshine” to him, singing softly in his ear so he could hear me. I rubbed his hand continuously, and every few minutes, I’d fuss with his gown or his blankets and adjust them for him. Kevin walked up behind me after a few minutes and stood there. He put a hand on my shoulder every so often just to remind me that he was there.