Lineage(77)

“I remember going to bed and waking up for a minute in the tub, that’s it.” Andy sat spinning his half-empty coffee cup on the table, the dark liquid within threatening to slosh over each time his hands set it in motion.

Lance sat across from him, as the diner bustled with noise around them on a busy Saturday morning. A waitress stopped, breathless, at the edge of their table.

“You two ready?”

Both men put in their orders, and when the menus had disappeared from the table, Andy spoke again.

“Maybe I had too much to drink, decided to go for a swim. It’s the most probable scenario.”

Lance stretched his jaw until it cracked and let it fall back into place. When Andy had woken that morning, sore from shivering but otherwise fine, Lance had questioned him about his memories, or lack thereof, and had come up with nothing. He decided not to fill Andy in on what he had seen beneath the water of the lake since he himself still seriously doubted it. Instead of making breakfast at the house, they elected to eat in town at the diner. The company of other people felt necessary to Lance, as if the normalcy of other lives might influence his own. When they left for the diner, Andy drove himself, without comment, and took his overnight bag with him. Lance didn’t ask, although he felt a twinge of disappointment when he realized he wouldn’t be spending as much time as he had hoped with his oldest friend.

“Maybe,” Lance offered, looking across the diner at the crowded tables, the people speaking of trivial matters, no doubt. They didn’t seem to be losing their minds, seeing things that couldn’t be and resisting the urge to call their psychologists.

“Thank you,” Andy said. Lance looked back at his friend. Andy’s eyes met his and true gratitude shone within them. “I might’ve died if you hadn’t pulled me out of the water, and the world would have lost its youngest and most brilliant agent.” Lance huffed laughter and shook his head in mock disdain. “What, you don’t think I’m an asset to talented individuals like yourself?”

Lance grinned. “I think you’re an asset, all right, minus the et on the end.” Andy flipped Lance his middle finger and Lance saw several of the customers nearby raise their eyebrows.

“All bullshit aside, I do want to ask you something,” Lance said, leaning forward and cupping his mug of coffee. “What was actually going on when you got to the house yesterday? You didn’t want to say anything, but in light of last night, you need to be straight with me.”

Andy sat back from the table and folded his arms. He regarded Lance for a long moment, and then leaned forward again.

“I felt cold.”

“Cold?” Lance asked.

“Yes, cold. When I drove up and saw the place, something seemed off to me. I couldn’t figure out what it was—maybe the house needed some TLC or I didn’t like the location, I don’t know. But when I got out of the car, it was oppressive, like something was pushing down on me from above, and I felt cold. I felt …” Andy stopped and looked around. The closest people on either side of them continued talking, oblivious to their conversation. Andy leaned closer. “I felt as cold as I did when I woke up last night after being in the lake. I wanted nothing more than to drive the f*ck away from that place and never come back. After you came out, it passed, it just went away. I don’t know.”

Andy picked up his coffee and sipped it, clearly irritated. The waitress arrived, balancing a large tray on one hand and holding a fresh pot of coffee in the other.

They ate amidst the din of voices, neither broaching the subject again. Instead, they chewed in an unspoken but agreed respite, both of them digesting their thoughts as well as the eggs they consumed.

Twenty minutes later they stood on the sidewalk outside. The morning sun warmed the air and the fresh smell of the lake blew in on a northeastern breeze. Traffic was light with only a few cars passing occasionally. The town appeared to be self-absorbed, each person pursuing his own agenda either behind closed doors or well outside of the city limits.

Andy stopped by the driver’s-side door of his car and turned back to Lance, who had followed him to the edge of the curb, his hands shoved deeply in the pockets of his jeans.

“I’m going to go back home. I don’t think it would be a good idea if I stayed another night, you might be fishing my body out of the lake in the morning.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Lance said, frowning. Andy studied him for a moment before walking back within a few feet of the curb. His lips were pressed together as if he was struggling to keep the words he wanted to say within.