Dream Me(5)

“Good news though, honey. You have a job in the tennis shop. Booking courts and lessons, ringing up purchases. Should be fun.”

Okay, it was kind of good news because I needed the money and I liked to stay busy. Sitting around the house all day, communing with whatever nature was outside our door wasn’t exactly part of my plan. Mom would be working in the golf shop and this was the life we were used to. “When do I start?”

“Next week. You and Mom settle in first. The moving truck comes Thursday.”

__________

I didn’t even know what day it was when I finally lay my head down on my pillow. The cross-country trip seemed more like a month than a day. And Sugar Dunes, Florida was a whole different universe than California. I didn’t think it was possible to keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds in spite of the noisy whirr of the fan . . . and the sheen of sweat which was beginning to feel like a second skin . . . and the barking tree frogs just outside my window . . . and the dip in the middle of my musty old mattress . . . and my parents’ muffled voices coming from the other side of the paper thin bedroom wall.

At some point, the switch in my mind simply turned off all those new sounds and smells, and I finally fell asleep. At some point I dreamed I was walking on a beach of sugar-white sand. I walked by a small open-air café with tables protected from the sun by brightly striped umbrellas.

__________

When I woke the next morning, I sat straight up in bed gulping for air. For a few seconds it felt like I was underwater breathing in pure liquid, my lungs shriveled to a fraction of their normal capacity by the overbearing heat. I had a fierce pain in my forehead that went away after a few minutes of sitting up.

I looked around my room and could tell Dad had tried to make it comfortable for me. I’d fallen asleep on top of the bed cover, a patterned pink thing he probably picked up in a thrift shop. I loved him for doing it even if I didn’t love the cover itself. In fact, an exact replica of its pattern was on my arm, and if I looked in the mirror I’d probably see it on my cheek too. There was a small bedside table with a green plastic vase which held two gorgeous, pink, exotic-looking flowers. On the wall above my bed, he’d hung an artistically staged and framed photo. Maybe it came with the house, or maybe he picked it up at the same place he got my bedspread and the green vase.

I stared at the picture and for some reason it reminded me of something. After a minute I realized I’d dreamed of this place. The small café set on the white sand beach peeking out from between the dunes. A few outdoor tables capped by big umbrellas striped in bright shades of yellow and green.

Maybe I’d seen the picture without even being aware of it when I came to bed, but there was no light fixture in my room and it’d been dark. There’d be a floor lamp I could use when the moving truck came with our stuff. In the meantime, I needed to switch bedrooms. My parents and I honestly needed a sound barrier between us with those paper-thin walls.

I heard a noise outside my window so I jumped up to investigate. Right outside my curtainless window was an older man. At least he looked old, but it’s possible he was just sun-fried. He was wearing a gray one-piece jumpsuit with an identification tag sewed under his right shoulder. He held a metal wand attached to a thin hose, which was attached to a dented metal canister.

“Mornin’ miss!” he called out, loud enough that I could hear him through the glass. Man, did I ever need to get some curtains up fast. Thank goodness I’d fallen asleep with all my clothes on.

I pried open the swollen, wood-framed window.

“Hello.” I read the tag on his coveralls—“Kill-em-Dead Roach & Pest Control.”

“Sorry to have disturbed yew. I’ll be outta here in just a few minutes.”

“No problem,” I said, all cool even though it was kind of a problem. Or at least a literal rude awakening.

“Any areas that require special attention today?” he asked. By special attention I figured he meant extra poison or whatever it was he was carrying around inside the canister.

“My mom and I just got here last night, so I guess do whatever you usually do.”

“Alright then, miss . . .?”

“Babe,” I offered.

“Miss Babe.” He was spraying the ground right up against the house. “Got yourself a fire ant nest over here. I’ll take care of it for yew, but avoid the area for a while.”

Fire ant? What kind of strange creature was that?

__________

My mom was in the kitchen frying up bacon and eggs. “Sorry, Baby, this is all Dad had in the refrigerator. There’s some milk if you want cereal instead.”

I opened the refrigerator and found a few pathetic looking apples which yielded to the pressure of my finger when I pushed lightly. Also, a plastic bag of carrots that had never been opened—Dad’s attempt to honor my vegetarianism.

“I’ll have some eggs if you have extra.” I sat down at the kitchen table and made the best of one of the apples. “There’s a man spraying for bugs out back.”

“His name’s Billy. Dad told me he comes with the house. I called the air conditioner repair guy and begged him to come out today. He promised he would.”

“Do we have a car?” I wanted to get out and see what life was like outside of Trout Lane which, to be honest, wasn’t very exciting so far.