Dream Me(55)

Babe: Please just give me some time.

Sweetness: girl, i’m worried about you again





Nineteen


The next day I drove my parents to work. I didn’t want to stay home one more day so I asked for the truck. I’d been ignoring LeGrand’s and Mai’s texts for three days by then. Maybe I’d go see them. Or maybe I wouldn’t.

When I arrived at the Crystal Point entrance, I could barely stand to look at Earl. It just reminded me of my final night with Zat. I gave him a half-hearted wave as I drove through the gate and he looked at me meaningfully, but only waved back. I’m sure he knew what happened with Clyde Buell and didn’t like it one bit.

As it turned out, I didn’t go anywhere that day so the truck wasn’t necessary. When I picked up my parents, I invented all kinds of stories about how I was keeping busy during the day, but I don’t think they believed me.

After dinner, I knew I had to get out, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to be alone.

On the beach.

With my thoughts.

So that’s where I went.

__________

And now, I stand staring out at the waves which are settling down for the night—sliding instead of pouncing onto the shore. A tiny crab runs across the top of my foot that is buried in the wet, white sand. The sun slips below the horizon. The moon stakes out her queenly domain.

When I was younger my dad used to sing a song to me . . .

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,

you make me happy

when skies are gray.”

When I got older I looked up the rest of the lyrics. I’d only known the refrain so I was surprised to find it was actually a song about heartache and loss. I think about it again. Like my relationship with Zat, I only saw the happiness, but it was built on a foundation of inevitable pain.

A pair of arms reach from behind me and wrap around my waist. For a second I have the crazy idea it’s Zat, but I know he can’t be here.

It’s Mai.

Sympathy and kindness radiate from her eyes.

“Your parents said you went to the beach. I knew you’d be here.” It’s one of our favorite places to hang out. “Why are you avoiding me and LeGrand?”

“He’s gone.” She knows who I mean.

“How can you really be sure?”

“A few nights ago. It felt like someone stole my soul while I was sleeping. I felt him slip away.”

“Maybe he’ll come back?” she asks more than says.

“No. He won’t come back.”

And then the part I know is hardest for her to say.

“Babe, how do you know he was real?”

“How do I know you’re real, Nuggins?” The moon now has full reign over the sky. “He just was.”





BABE’S BLOG


I wake up to parental noises in the house. It surprises me at first until I remember they planned this day off together, the first one since we moved to Sugar Dunes, Florida.

We’ve still done practically nothing to make our house look like a home and I know they have a lot of errands to run.

I’m hoping they’ll leave soon because I don’t feel like talking this morning. Maybe if I’m quiet, they’ll think I’m still asleep.

I open my laptop to check email, and then slip back into bed where I stare at the striped shadows on the wall.

It’s starting to get hot and if they don’t leave soon I’ll be forced to turn on the AC, which will alert them to the fact I’m awake. But for now I just let my mind roam. Back to Zat and the last time we were together.

He was so quiet that day. And so sad. He behaved strangely from the very beginning. Did he know he was dying? Because I feel certain now that’s what must have happened.

I think about the pine forest, and the thunderstorm. I remember how Earl came to us and took shelter under our umbrella. The picture he took—I wish I had it. But all I have is the picture Mai drew.

I get out of bed and tiptoe to the dresser where I keep Mai’s picture. I bring it back into bed with me.

Why was Zat so rude to Earl? Was it because Earl intruded on a moment in time he already knew would be our last?

A surprising thought comes to me. A feeling. I had it once before when I lost my keys. I looked for them for two weeks and finally gave up. Mom was going out the next day to have duplicate house and car keys made for me. Then that feeling. This same feeling I’m having now. I got up in the middle of dinner without a word and walked into the next room, straight to the reclining chair I hardly ever sat on. Unofficially, it was Dad’s, which was why I hadn’t looked there before. I lifted the cushion of the chair and there were my keys, exactly where I knew they would be.

But I hadn’t lost anything now.

Except Zat.

I had lost Zat.

And just like that it comes to me. Did Zat’s confusing silence that night blind me to the expression in his eyes? When he looked at Earl, with what I thought was impatience, wasn’t it awe? Wasn’t it admiration?

Wasn’t it . . . recognition?

Then, just as my subconscious led me to the keys under the cushion of the chair, it lifts my gaze to the picture above my bed. Of the small café with the green and yellow striped umbrellas, perched above the sand dunes and visible from the beach. What had Zat said to me? His last words . . .