Twelve
Tibby was finally asleep. The warm Parisian sun barreled down the boulevard and shone on her back where she sat sipping a cappuccino at a sidewalk table outside a chic cafe on the Left Bank. She was reading Le Monde. On the cover, a large photograph showed the actress Tibby Easton-Richmond in a tiny black dress which accentuated her narrow shoulders and her slender neck. Her legs looked pretty fabulous, too; not at all chunky. Beside her, her father stood beaming in a smart tuxedo. His arm was around her waist, and they were standing outside a building with a grand entrance; steps, columns. It could have been a hotel, or a theater, she couldn't be sure.
The cappuccino was hot and smoky, and the foam was silky smooth. A man approached her table wearing an accordion strapped to his chest. He had on black pants and a blue-white striped sweatshirt. On his head, a black beret was cocked at a jaunty angle. Tibby looked up from her newspaper and saw that it was Brand, his boyish face and dimpled chin unmistakable, although covered in three-day stubble.
"Per-aps you'll let me buy you a drink, Mademoiselle." He said, in English, but with a heavy French accent. Tibby laughed.
"Brand, you look ridiculous. What are you doing here?"
"I leeve 'ere now. I followed you 'ere. I cannot be wizout you." His fingers brushed the keys of the accordion and it honked like a goose. Tibby laughed again. Her voice sounded scratchy and much too loud.
"But Brand, I love Jasper. I thought you knew that!"
"Mai oui! Of course! We all love Jasper."
Tibby studied Brand's face. He looked different, more sophisticated; more handsome, somehow. Yes, he also looked French, but not like the French boys who had been all over her during the summer vacation. He looked mature, serious. He looked hot.
"Do you know how to play that thing?" Tibby said, nodding at the accordion.
"I play a little." Brand replied, winking. "Would you like to 'ear a song?"
Tibby sat up suddenly, breathing hard. In her mind, the embers of a bizarre dream smoldered and sputtered out. She looked at the clock beside her bed: 2:19. She had gotten a few hours of sleep, but there were still hours to go before morning. She sighed and slipped back down underneath the covers and closed her eyes. She tried to remember what she had been dreaming about, but the harder she thought about it, the further away the dream seemed to flee from her. It had been a pleasant dream, though, she knew that much. She had a warm, tingly feeling in her belly. Before long, she drifted back to sleep.
Brand was asleep, as well. He was in a boat on a large pond. In the middle of the pond, an island rose up out of the water, with scrubby trees and large rocks surrounding a small building. The boat was just big enough for Brand to stretch his legs out in front of him, and on either side, oars projected into the murky, still water. He grasped the oars and started to row towards the island, but the boat wouldn't move. It just remained stationary in the same spot at the edge of the pond. Brand rowed harder, leaning into the strokes and pushing back the water, but it was no use; the little boat refused to budge. Brand started to panic. For some reason, he knew he needed to reach the island, but he couldn't seem to get there. He looked around frantically. On the shore, a figure emerged from the the woods and started towards him. It was a girl, with a long white dress over bare legs and feet, and her blond hair in a single braid that hung down her back. She was coming towards the boat. As she came closer, Brand realized it was Tibby, although she looked different somehow. Perhaps it was her hair? Was it longer? Or maybe he had never seen her in a dress before. Anyway, even in his state of panic, Brand had to admit that she looked great; serene, stately, like Liv Tyler as Arwen emerging from the forest in Lord Of The Rings. She started laughing.
"What? What's so funny?" Brand asked as she reached the edge of the shore.
"Your boat is still tied up." Her voice was soft, magical.
"What do you mean?" Brand let go of the oars and moved to the back of the boat. He peered over the edge and saw a long rope attached to the stern and trailing in the water. The other end was wrapped around a tree trunk on the shore.
"Oh." He said. "Would you mind untying it?"
"Where are you going?" Tibby stood beside the tree trunk, looking at Brand.
"Over to that island. There's something there I need."
"May I come with you?" Tibby asked, reaching for the rope. Brand shrugged.
"Okay."
Then she was sitting beside him, her dress flowing out and covering the floor of the boat. They were not on the pond any more, though; it was a river, and they were flowing fast towards a bend. Brand could hear a rushing sound, like a powerful wind or, maybe, a waterfall.
"Where are we?" He said, the panic returning.
"I thought you knew. That's why I asked to come along."
"But I don't recognize this at all!" Brand turned from side to side. They were moving swiftly through the chilly water. The bend was fast approaching. The sound was getting much louder.
"Don't be afraid. This is what it's always like." Tibby put her hand on Brand's arm. He flinched.
"What do you mean?"
"Isn't this what you expected? What you wanted?"
"I don't know what's going to happen! I don't understand!" Brand turned and looked at Tibby. Her eyes sparkled. Her mouth was pressed into a smile. The light seemed to glow around her.
"You've got to trust me, Ari. Do you trust me?"
"I don't know!"
"Do you trust me?" She asked again, louder this time. They rounded the bend in the river and Brand saw they were headed directly for the edge of an enormous waterfall. The river tumbled over the edge and disappeared. A fine mist rose up beyond the edge, and the sound was deafening. Brand couldn't help himself. He stood up.
"Yes! I trust you! I trust you!"
Tibby burst out laughing, but it was not a happy laugh. It was a cruel, mean-spirited laugh, and it rose above the sound of the roaring waterfall. Brand put his hands over his ears and screamed out loud, but no sound came. Tibby laughed and laughed. The boat was just a few feet from the edge now. Brand closed his eyes and opened his mouth and yelled. The boat reached the lip of the waterfall and dipped over the edge.
Days Of St Croix Page 12
