Eight
A white Ford Mustang limped noisily down Darcy Street. The rusty vehicle made loud squeaking noises, and it emitted a trail of blue smoke behind it. Lara was in the passenger’s seat as the car headed to Dalhousie General Hospital. She was looking down at the backpack nestled in her lap and she absently played with the strap.
“Your car should be on life support,” Lara said in a monotone.
“I think it has character!” Greg replied, a smile on his face. He kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel but gave her a sideways glance.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Yep,” she replied quietly.
The ‘inkblot monster’ loomed large in her mind’s eye. It seemed like it had wanted to squeeze the life out of her.
“Greg, do you think that monster from the nightmare was really trying to kill me?” she asked without looking at him.
Greg sat stoic, his face unreadable. After several seconds, he responded, “I don’t know. If it was, though, I know it wouldn’t have been able to.”
“Oh?”
“Your awesomeness would have overwhelmed it,” he replied in an airy voice. Lara knew he was trying to cheer her up, but she wasn’t in the mood. She continued to stare downward as he put a hand on her wrist. His smile faltered as he looked at her.
“I don’t know about that,” she replied with a heavy sigh. “Maybe that thing was trying to kill me and maybe I should have been killed. For all I know, it was my time.”
“Your time?”
“To die.”
The car slowed and they stopped at a stop sign. Finding no other cars in his rearview mirror, Greg put the car into park and turned fully to face Lara.
“I know we... you went through a really freaky thing back there,” Greg said, cocking his head in the direction of their school. “Are you sure you’re alright?” She looked at him; concern lined his face.
“I’m fine.”
“Maybe we should call your mom and tell—”
“I said I’m fine!”
Greg stared at her, his eyes betraying his hurt feelings. He nodded and turned to face front again, put his car in drive, and slowly accelerated down the road. In the hospital drop-off area, they sat in silence for several minutes.
“You know my mom and I aren’t really getting along. I just want to keep this between us,” Lara said.
“She has a right to know,” Greg replied, his eyes not meeting hers. She sighed.
“If you’re a real friend, you won’t tell her.”
Greg let out a derisive snort. “A real friend would be worried about you, Lara.”
“I don’t have time for this,” she said, opening the car door. Spinning around, she slammed it as hard as she could, causing specks of rust to fall to the ground.
Lara stormed past the front of the car and into the emergency room, passing a blonde nurse who was also on her way in.
Greg watched her walk away. He thought about going after her, but she probably wouldn’t be too keen on that. Instead, he pulled out his cell phone and briefly went through his address book to find the number for Linda’s Lingerie. He held the phone to his ear while pulling back up to Darcy Street.
“Linda’s Lingerie, Linda speaking!” said a chipper voice on the other end.
“Hi, Ms. Warner, it’s Greg.”
“Greg? Lara’s friend?” she asked.
“That’s me. Hey, uh, I wanted to tell you I just dropped off Lara at the emergency room at DGH.”
“What’s happened?” Linda asked, panic entering her voice.
“She’s alright, just got a few bruises. I sort of made her go.”
“What happened to her?” Her tone was accusatory, and Greg wondered briefly if he should tell her everything or not. According to Lara, her mother already knew… It just wasn’t something they discussed.
“If you hurt my daughter—”
“It wasn’t me,” he said quickly. “She was fine earlier, but fell asleep in class. When she woke up, we found these bruises on her.” Greg thought a half truth was better than a lie. There was silence on the other end of the line.
He continued driving, stopping at the same intersection where he’d briefly parked the car earlier. The phone was pressed between his ear and shoulder, and the position was becoming more uncomfortable by the second.
“The bruises didn’t show up until after she woke up?” Linda asked, her voice low.
“Well, they were on her midsection. She didn’t start complaining about it until later on.”
“It’s just me in the store. I’ll close up and be down soon. Thank you for telling me and dropping her off.”
Knowing how things were for Lara and Linda at their store, Greg felt a small pang of guilt for making Lara go to the hospital.
“I can watch your store for you, if you’d like,” he offered.
“Th-that would be great!” she responded.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
* * * * *
Linda finished removing the money from the day’s sales from the cash register, and put the cash into a deposit bag directly under the counter. She appreciated Greg coming in and watching the store, but she had only met him half a dozen times. In fact, the longest conversation she’d had with him was ten minutes ago, on the phone. Linda was sure he was a good kid. She always sensed he was a bit different—awkward at times and confident at others. He had the oddest gaps in his knowledge, sometimes misunderstood common expressions, and he often took sarcasm literally. Sometimes, she would notice Lara having to explain what she really meant to a dumbfounded Greg. He also seemed to have an unnatural obsession with comic books, and was constantly scrutinizing the pages as if reading a manual for a complex piece of machinery.
One thing Linda did know was that he had feelings toward her daughter. She’d caught him looking at her, more than once, his eyes wistful and lingering. Perhaps, in his na?veté, he thought Lara might stop spending time with him if he confessed his feelings. In a way she found Greg’s innocence endearing; it was as though he were a child, experiencing the world around him for the first time.
Perhaps he was homeschooled growing up and never got the social interaction most kids did. He had just started going to Leaside this September. Linda had never met his parents.
She started reorganizing the more expensive items in the glass cabinet by the cash register, remembering her late husband David. Lara was just like him.
Before she married David, Linda would dread going to sleep. She had the same nightmare night after night. But after her wedding she looked forward to it; she dreamed of having tea with her mother, or blissfully running through endless fields of flowers. Occasionally, she would have the most vivid erotic dreams of her husband.
The two of them hadn’t made much money, but she had been happy with what they had. David, however, would go through episodes of depression that could span anywhere from several days to almost a month. He had difficulties managing it, but was too stubborn to go to the doctor.
The day Linda told David she was pregnant, they had been sitting in their living room. He seemed terrified at the prospect of a child. She reassured him there would be more than enough money for the three of them, if they were careful, but he waved her reassurance away.
“Is it a boy or girl?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
“I’m not sure,” she responded simply.
“When can we know?”
“I’ll ask Helen, my doctor. Don’t you want it to be a surprise?” she asked, running her fingers along his back.
David sat still, staring into space. “No.”
When they found out it was a girl, he was ecstatic. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him so happy. He made a nursery, picking out the colors and furniture himself.
“And this is the one I’m using,” he said, holding up a paint sample with five different shades of pink. “It’s called ‘Pretty in Pink’ and it will look just great! That is, if it’s alright with you?” David gave Linda a sheepish look. She laughed and agreed that it would.
“Good! Let me show you the furniture I built!” He gently took her by the hand and led Linda to the nursery, showing her the crib, nursing chair, and chest of drawers.
Later that night, Linda lay on the couch while David massaged her feet.
“What should we name her?” he asked.
Half asleep, she responded: “Whatever you’d like.”
“What do you think of Lara?”
“Sounds great,” Linda said, her breathing now becoming deeper, and she slipped into pleasant dreams.
Four months later, little Lara was born.
“David,” Linda said, lying in the hospital bed, “come look at your daughter!” David leaned over to pick up Lara from her mother’s arms. He looked down at her big brown eyes and round cheeks with a goofy grin, but after a few seconds, the smile faded from his face.
“What’s wrong?” Linda asked. He stood there staring at his newborn daughter for a moment, and then passed her back to Linda.
“Nothing. I need to get some air. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Linda couldn’t imagine what in their daughter’s face could be troubling her husband, but not too long after that, he fell into another depressive episode. She would try to get him to hold Lara, but he wouldn’t. Something was wrong, but whenever she would ask, he would dismiss her questions. One night, after supper, David sat Linda down. Lara was swaddled lovingly in her mother’s arms.
“I need to talk to you,” he said in a serious tone.
“What is it?” Linda asked.
He paused. “It’s about me and Lara. There’s something I haven’t told you. I thought I could keep it to myself, but, well, I don’t know if that will be possible now.” His eyes rested on Lara’s face as he gently stroked her head. Linda’s mind was racing with possibilities, none of which she liked. He let out a large sigh. “I can enter other people’s dreams. I’m sure that Lara will be able to do the same thing. That is, if she hasn’t already done it.”
Linda sat there, her mouth open and eyebrows raised.
“Is this a joke?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
He shook his head.
“Okay, honey, I’m going to call Helen. We’re going to get through this together,” Linda said, standing up and walking toward the phone, still holding Lara. She had no idea what she was going to say.
David said, “You were having that same dream for years, the one where you are stuck in your bedroom with the flames.” Linda’s hand paused on the receiver. “I replaced those with you having tea or running through fields.” Fear crowded Linda’s chest and she looked down at Lara. The baby was asleep with a peaceful look on her face. When had she told David about her dreams? She had mentioned them to Helen…
Linda slowly turned around to face her husband. His eyes were downcast, his body turned away from her.
“Please say Helen told you about the dreams.” Again, he shook his head.
“This… thing, it runs in my family. I was hoping so much that Lara wouldn’t have it, but as soon as I saw her, I felt it.” He looked up at Linda, his eyes red. “Please sit,” he said. She remained standing, looking at him. “I would never do anything to hurt you or Lara. I’m the same man you knew, just with a few... hidden talents.”
Cautiously, Linda sat down.
“I want you to be prepared when Lara starts to ask questions.”
“Let’s pretend we’re on the same page. Why wouldn’t you be able to explain this to Lara?”
David looked down again.
“What are you not telling me?” she asked, her tone sharp.
“We need money, Linda. I looked at our finances almost two months ago. If we don’t get an infusion soon, we’ll be bankrupt in less than six months.”
“You didn’t answer my question. What are you not telling me?”
“I’ve been in contact with a group of people who are in need of my talents.”
“What people?”
“Wealthy ones. They’ve agreed to triple my annual salary and give me a signing bonus for only a few hours’ work a week.”
“No. I don’t know what mobsters you’re working with, but I won’t have it.” Linda stood up and walked to their bedroom. She gently placed Lara on the bed, and then started tossing clothes into a suitcase. She felt her husband’s presence at the door.
“Will you at least hear me out?”
“You will not put our daughter in danger by working for criminals,” she said.
“I don’t plan to. And I don’t plan on having my family live on the streets either. I knew you’d react like this, but I had to tell you.”
“You’re lucky I’m not going to the police!” she said, scooping up Lara and her suitcase, and brushing past David.
“Please, Linda, if you go, I can’t stop your nightmares.”
“I’ll deal with it,” she replied, closing the front door behind her.
Linda went to her mother’s house, where she stayed for some time. Her mother didn’t ask questions, and Linda never volunteered the information. Her nightmares started again as David said they would. She would wake up several times throughout the night and was constantly exhausted. After several weeks, an envelope came addressed to Linda from David. She wanted to throw it out or burn it, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
After two months of regular envelopes, Linda decided to open one. It was a letter with a check attached. She opened a second: another letter with another check. The letters, eight in total, all had similar messages: I love you and Lara. Please come home.
Linda didn’t care about the money. With her mother’s help, they were doing alright, but her nightmares were making it difficult to function. But she still wasn’t completely convinced that her husband could control dreams. She reasoned he must be going through some sort of psychosis brought on by his depression, coupled with becoming a father. Any sane person couldn’t actually believe they could control dreams. Could they?
Linda called her husband. “I just opened all the letters you sent me,” she said in a cold voice.
“I will provide for my family,” David said simply.
“I’m going to destroy the checks. We cannot accept blood money.”
“You don’t even know what I do.”
Linda thought about this for a moment. She had just assumed David had gotten in with the mob or some other crime syndicate doing who knew what.
“Then tell me what you do exactly.”
“I help retrieve information. The people I work for are looking for someone who disappeared years ago. They’ll give me an address for a person and I’ll go there, put that person to sleep, and dig around in their dreams, to see if I can find any information.”
“Are you hurting these people?”
“No. They want me to be very careful not to hurt anyone or even allow the people I, well, ‘interview’ to remember I was there. I think they’re scared of someone, but I don’t know who.”
“And who are ‘they’? These people you work for?”
“All I have are a name. Jotunn.”
Linda had never heard of this group, but it still made her nervous. “Okay,” she said slowly, evaluating his words. “Who are they looking for?”
“Again, I just have a name. Saveio.”
“Do you know anything about this person?”
“Nothing, other than the fact that I’ve learned not to say his name out loud around them. It’s like they’re terrified of this guy. Linda, I’m not hurting anyone, and I do my very best to respect the privacy of the minds I enter. I’ve also done my best to give you your space, but I miss you. I miss Lara. Would you both please come home?”
Against her better judgment, Linda went home that night. The two of them put Lara to bed in her crib. “You’ll make the nightmares stop?” Linda asked, closing the nursery door behind her.
“Yes,” he replied. Linda began to cry. David wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.
After several moments, Linda regained her composure. “Aside from the dreams of having tea and running through fields, were there any other dreams you gave me?”
David gave her a small, mischievous smile.
They never openly talked about David’s second job, only that on Monday evenings, he would leave the house at 10:00 pm and return after 1:00 am. This went on until one night, when Lara was two, David didn’t come home. After a week, the police had identified his body, along with several others, in a factory that had caught fire. The police determined it was arson, but never caught the arsonist. David’s original job had life insurance as part of its benefits package, and Linda used that money, plus a grant, to open up her lingerie store.
* * * * *
The front doorbell chimed and in walked Greg. From behind his glasses, his grey eyes darted around to the various displays and articles of clothing. He walked toward Linda, who was getting ready to leave.
“Alright, Greg, here’s the deal. You are to do no fittings.”
“Fittings?”
“If anyone asks, just say they will be available later today. Women typically know what they want, and if they ask your opinion, be honest. When someone wants a top, recommend a bottom, and vice versa. When you cash them out, offer them one of these items.” Linda pointed to a small selection of items on the counter. “These are impulse buys. Try to tack on one to every sale.”
“Understood,” he replied.
“Also, Greg, I know exactly how many of each item I have in my inventory. If I come back and find items missing with no cash or receipts, I will be very upset.”
“Why would I want to take a—”
“And another thing! Should I find one penny missing from my cash float—”
“You’ll string me up by my toenails from the ceiling,” he replied, remembering Lara saying this once.
“Your toenails if you’re lucky...” she said, leveling her gaze at him.
He wasn’t sure if she was serious, but it didn’t matter. He had no intention of taking anything that wasn’t his. “Of course, Ms. Warner,” he replied, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
Linda smiled to herself. She grabbed the deposit bag from under the counter and put it into her purse. On her way out, she turned and said, “Thanks again, Greg,” and left.