Flood Page 12

  “His parents must be so proud,” I say sighing, eyeing the shelves of candy.

  “He's probably going to sell it all for drugs; he's really gotten worse the past year, running away a lot too.”

  “How would you know?”

  “From the parties you missed.” She eyes me pursing her lips.

  “Hey, I was busy diving into a deep depression.”

  “Yea, right.” She rolls her eyes.

  We check out and spend the rest of the day in her air-conditioned house gossiping like we had social lives and watching ghost movies to in effect condition me not to care about my ghosts. If that's not friendship goals, I don't know what is.

  53

  "I got another one," I told Lea over the phone.

  The day before my date I get another present left on my doorstep from Greg. In it contains a heartfelt love letter ending with a request that I don't see James anymore and cheap jewelry. It's the second one this week.

  "And he's still avoiding all my messages, should I just go over there?"

  “No,” she begins, “just send him your messages in creepy doorstep presents too, see how he like it. And instead of jewelry put a fake bloody ear in it Van Gogh style."

  “Not seeing what that would accomplish.”

  “Um, it would be hilarious duh. Or you could just send the jewelry back with a picture of you holding your middle finger up.”

  “Sounds enticing, but I already threw it away.”

  “What? You could have donated it, to me!”

  “Because you need more jewelry.” She has a jewelry tree covering her wall as it is.

  “Yeah, I guess you're right. More importantly, what are you going to wear tomorrow?”

  “Nothing you're thinking of I'm sure.”

  “April, now is your time to shine, wear a sexy red bikini and then let something accidentally slip, if you catch my drift.”

  “All I have is that black frilly one piece, pounce torn up my bikini. Like it matters though, it's about what's inside the swimsuit that counts.”

  “April! How dirty! Now you're speaking my language.”

  “Not what I meant, and you know it.” I shake my head. “What are we going to talk about the whole time? We're going to be stuck on a tiny boat together, and I'm not very interesting.”

  “Just kiss him, that leaves less time for talking.”

  “You are so unhelpful.” I secretly imagine her scenario. “I have to go clean the cat litter.” I sigh.

  “Fine go, but take my advice, explode your comfort zone or perish.” And on that cryptic note, she hangs up.

  Laying back on my bed I roll over to grab my wine glass and sip my chocolate milk, swirling it like it's really a fine spirit. I contemplate going over to Greg's to slap him, but I have a date to get ready for and poop to scoop.

  54

  The sun eats the sky, heat devouring the earth; I inhale the sunlight as the breeze whips through my hair. Feeling akin to the waves crashing upon his boat, I watch as James steers while avoiding the shallow areas with ease. His boat is definitely not as small as he made it out to be, it's no canoe like I had imagined.

  Lounging on the wraparound seating in the back I take off my shirt revealing my frilly swimsuit underneath with dainty flowers, letting the boat’s mist cool me down. Coming to a slow, he points to a hidden cooler on the deck, “I brought food and drinks,” he pauses, “don't worry, nothing I could burn.” He grins wide revealing his sparkling teeth like he's in a toothpaste commercial.

  Blushing at the recent memory of why the food burnt, I get up to grab a grape soda handing him an icy beer. Bringing the boat to a full stop, he sets down the beer and grabs me tenderly from behind, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my neck.

  Giggling, I stroke his face from behind as he twirls me around kissing me hard yet soft, like the moss covering a rock. He smells like the waters that spray him, his hand slowly tracing down my neck and spine. My skin burns with excitement everywhere he touches. His breath is the same air that fuels wildfires and I take it all in, inhaling the fire. Lifting me up, I’m suspicious as to where he is taking me, but then he tosses me into the lake.

  "I still have my shorts on!" I shout wiping the water from my eyes, laughing all the while.

  “Take them off.” He commands.

  It sounds like a demand, and I obey. Throwing them at his face I miss, and he shoots me a playful look, like I shouldn't have done that. He took off his shirt, which no lie, is in ultra slow motion; if only I could pause and rewind. Trying to get a head start, I quickly swim away as he dove in after me, his wide athletic jump caught him up with me instantly. They say find what you love and let it kill you, and I'm willing to let him drown me.

  I've always felt at home in the water, in it I feel unfettered by time and space, like the rules if reality don't apply here. Swimming around enjoying the mute and calm waters, I see an unsightly ghost in my periphery. Taking a hard pass on acknowledging it, I swim over to James as he floats on his back, eyes closed, and push him under by his stomach. A playful excuse to feel his washboard abs of which I want to bake cookies and tap dance on.

  Letting out a little scream as he pulls me down by my feet, I held my breath and went under. We both broke the surface painting like dogs from laughing underwater. Giving me a soaked kiss, I lean on him to keep me afloat or I really would drown. Another ghost shows in the distance. I must have made a face because he asks me if something is wrong.

  "Nothing." I shake off the goosebumps, feigning a smile.

  “Tell me,” he encourages, planting kisses around my eyes.

  Ignoring the ghosts, I decide to ask him what has been on my mind for some time, "why, why do you like me? I mean really?” It can't be because of my stunning good breakdowns or the way I parkour over my problems.

  He wraps his hands tightly around my waist and looks firmly into my eyes, "you are the most unique woman I've ever met, everything you hate about yourself I love, you have strong opinions yet never judge anyone,” he pauses in thought, “and you can eat almost a whole pizza in one sitting." He declares smiling with all seriousness. His voice could shake the rain off trees.

  Have I built up a wall around me, sure, a tower of isolation? Definitely, with many locks? Of course, security is essential to me, but he seems to have all the keys. And for the first time, I kiss him, with everything in me, turning myself inside out for him. Running my fingers through his hair, we only part to breath. But when I saw all my ghosts in the distance something tugs at my stomach and I have to investigate. Maybe they are leading me towards another river necklace I thought as I thumbed the one I’m wearing. The closer I got I could hear a woman's echoed crying; I look around to find no one but James giving me a funny look.

  "I thought I heard something." I try explaining.

  Continuing to swim to the rocky shoreline, my feet finally were able to touch the slick algae covered rocks of the bottom. The closer I got, the more shallow it became, with scattering schools of fish around my feet. It isn't until I’m waist deep out of the water that I notice it, or her I should say. A 6th ghost, floating underwater where the others were, this one more grotesque than the others with her face rotting away exposing her skull. Maybe ghost movie day with Lea has backfired.

  “What are you looking at?” I could hear him splashing, coming out of the water behind me. “Oh my God.” He says stunned, grabbing my arms from behind as if to brace me.

  “You can see her too?” I ask in disbelief.

  “Come on, let's get back in the boat. Now.” He orders, herding me backward like a sheepdog.

  This must be real.

  Mental illness is funny sometimes; traumatic experiences oftentimes receive less than a shrug from me yet if I see a sad looking sneaker on the side of the road I break down.

  He calls his station after swimming back, looking at me peculiar all the while. He did say he liked the unique ones.

  55

  Once upon a time, there was a you
ng woman without a family, who couldn't find another man to love, but desperately wanted a child of her own. She went through many fertility treatments that were physically invasive and mentally hard on her, especially when they failed. With the last of her money and hope she tried one last time, and it finally took. Problematic from the beginning, her pregnancy left her on bed rest for the few remaining months, yet she was joyous and thankful for all of it. Janie bells baby was due last month, but never made it.

  No one knows where the baby is, if all that love is dead or alive. The town mourns, we all mourn, everyone except for Greg. Still unable to reach him, I march over to his house to confront him. I had reached my daily quota of diplomacy about an hour ago and now I am going to let him have it.

  Taking a shortcut through the backwoods, I march infuriated to his house. No amount of lovesickness is an excuse to be acting the way he has been.

  My knocking on the arched doors of his Tudor style house is received with silence. Then I notice an envelope in a plastic bag wedged in between the doors. Wiggling it free I accidentally open the door. People really need to start locking things around here.

  “Hello?” I raise my voice as the door creaks open and I step inside.

  “Greg?” I call out; No answer.

  Investigating the basement, I found no one but all the people in his photographs he had strung up, a lot of them of me.

  Carefully opening the baggie, I take out the envelope and the letter within. The message is short and abrupt, "gone, don't try and find me."

  There is a pit in my stomach, an angry, sad and deep one. Sad for the friendship that I guess is meaningless to him. Angry that he's not here for Janie's funeral. He's run away before, but never like this, never because of me. It was always because of his father; I wonder if his father even knows.

  Leaving the basement, I notice all his camera equipment is still here scattered about his redwood desk; he would never go anywhere without his camera, even the most basic one. The pit grows wider, deeper.

  Perhaps James can help me track him down, just so I know he's safe. Suddenly I became irate, irrational with anger, and I toss all of his pictures on the ground, ripping down the hanging ones of me. Out of nowhere someone jumps on me from behind. Muddy pawed and licking my face I realize it's just Maxine. How could he leave his dog? Did he just leave her outside to fend for herself? This is bear country!

  After throwing my fit and loving on his golden lab, I decide to locate her leash and take her home with me, flipping open my phone and telling Lea everything along the way.

  56

  Going little off track along the way home, Maxine and I wander through the forest until we came to an abandoned junkyard. Overgrown, it is a jungle of decades-old rusting cars and loose tires. Greg and I use to come here and pretend we were car salesmen when we were young. Still steaming from the way he left things, I kick a large rock that went flying into a car windshield, cracking it in half. Maxine Barks in excitement.

  Nothing felt right, only wrong and I want to kick and scream and tear everything to pieces, but I settle for smashing windows. I gather some large stones lying around and began throwing them through the remaining windows, which weren't many. One by one the windows dwindle as shards went flying, a raccoon flees from a car in the back. Fantastic, I probably ruined its home. At first it felt great, liberating, but now I'm suppressing tears, watching as the clouds swirl overhead, heavy with rain and thunder. As it starts to sprinkle, I untie Maxine from the nearby tree and take her to her temporary home with me.

  57

  The moon follows me down the street; It was something that followed you everywhere you went like the eyes of an old portrait. The night's sweet embrace gathers the fireflies that dance around me like the stars above. They're the closest thing we have to touching the stars.

  Walking along my street at night has been made infinitely more lovely since Maxine has been coming along. Passing by a ridge overhead, she begins curling her lips and showing her teeth as she growls at the trees. Tensing up, I force myself to think it's nothing. Its nothing, just a deer, or a dangerous bear, or another ghost. Animals always sense that shit. It's nothing. But let's walk home just in case. She begins barking as we turn around to go home. Something is lurking in the trees; it's preying eyes upon me, whispering like the night. No. It's nothing, just leaves rustling in darkness. The ghosts crawl out of the crevices of my mind as I tiptoe through the night, I push them back. Look at the stars, focus on them.

  There's something in the stars. Why do people put their wishes on falling stars, the dying stars? “When people look up at the sky and see a bright dazzling flash against the black expanse, they're not thinking of where it came from - a piece of rock catapulted in a random direction by the explosion of a dying star - they think about where it’s going, and what it could be.” That's what Lucy said to me once, her voice echoes in my mind, calming its chords. Almost home.

  Reaching out my arm, I let the fireflies dance on my skin before heading inside, and think back to how James use to help me catch them to make glow jars when we were young. Smiling into the dark, a pungent aroma of sweet spice fills my nostrils as I go inside; mother is brewing chai tea. She takes the whistling kettle off the burner and sets it aside as I kick off my shoes and unleash Maxine. She bolts for the water dish; pounce watches unnerved from the stair railing.

  “The shop called back,” she pours me a cup of tea.

  “And?” I question, inhaling the sweet swirling steam, hoping for good news about my ailing car.

  “It's the transmission; it's going to take a couple of weeks to fix.” She sighs.

  “Weeks? But I have work!” I exclaim.

  “I can drop you off in the morning. Maybe Lea or James can help out.” She pauses, “There's always the bus.” She suggests saddening her features, no doubt wishing she had the money to buy me a new car and everything I've ever wanted.

  “Thanks, I'll figure something out.” Sighing, I stare into my steaming tea.

  “By the way, your flowers are beautiful honey; you really turned that greenhouse around and in such a short amount of time. You should bring some in the house.”

  My heart skips a beat, "you, you can see them?" You can see the flowers that magically bloomed in under a day?

  “Yes I've seen them, and they're amazing; took some lovely photos.” She says showing me on her phone, her thumb in half of them.

  They're actually real, but how? What is going on? First the field of flowers, then the body in the lake, and now this?

  Sipping my tea, I keep a blank face to not let on about my inner turmoil.

  “You could probably sell some, you know, to help out with the car. Some of my residents loved the photos, I bet they would buy some.” She flips through the pictures smiling sunshine.

  “Yea, maybe,” I try to say unconcerned.

  “You alright?” She looks up from her phone.

  “Fine, just tired.” I down the rest of my tea. “I'm going to head up.”

  “Alright, goodnight, love you.”

  “Love you too,” I call out, making my way upstairs, Maxine and pounce follow suit.

  58

  Some things are just too embarrassing to put into words, like when you're going insane and can't tell reality from fiction. Choking on secrets, I hold the unspoken words in my fingers.

  I was doing so well, but even the best songs finish at some point. Maybe seeing a real dead body triggered something in me, maybe I'm unraveling again. I write, I flood the pages with the storm in my mind, trying to keep it contained instead of making waves. Looking over to Maxine I replace my worry with Greg.

  He never even said goodbye, it's not like him at all. I have a bad feeling. Like chaos is brewing. My dream the other night was like one of Lucy's war stories, except I was in it and I was a soldier. It was like a flashback of something that never happened. Ash was raining down on the frozen snow covered ground. Screams echoed throughout the barren trees; there was a battle bei
ng fought up on the ridge, moving closer to me. The wounded men shatter like porcelain dolls, unable to come back from the brink of death. The earth is littered with the ruins of civilizations that once thought they were eternal; ours was ending, shattering all around me. Suddenly I was shot from a distance, a hole in my chest with the cracks expanding rapidly like a broken mirror and I collapse, unable to pull myself back together.

  I've never been good with metaphors or dream interpretations, but I know that dream can’t mean anything favorable. I feel like my unconscious knows something it's not telling me, why can our bodies just work together? Where's the team effort?

  Laying closer to Maxine I pet her at the meowing protests of pounce, "we'll find your daddy," I tell her rubbing her stomach as she wags her tail vigorously, "well bring him home, I promise."

  59

  “Where do you think he went?” Lea asks while eating cereal on my bed.

  Finishing a long stroke of paint on the hair of a ghost’s portrait, “I hope he went to one of his uncles, but I don't have any of their numbers to check.” I say wantingly.

  “Maybe,” she pauses, “maybe he'll show up for your birthday.” She suggests hopefully, mouth full of Cheerios.

  “That's optimistic.”

  “Are we still on for your birthday dinner tomorrow?” She changes the subject, not wanting to depress me further.

  “Yeah of course! It's one thing I've been looking forward to is cake for dinner with my best friend.”

  “Also…” I say teasingly.

  “What? What?” She exclaims with a full mouth.

  “I'm seeing a certain someone for dinner tonight.” I can't help but be all smiles.