Remember Me (Weaver Series)

by Dena Nicotra

  I had spent just enough time on my computer back home searching out addresses near the college to use. It wasn’t possible for me to create places that didn’t exist so this was a necessity. When I felt like I had put enough things in place, I gathered my bag, dumped my plate in the trash, and left the airport. The air was warmer and dryer than I anticipated and I was grateful to slide into the cool backseat of the taxi. Muttering the address, I clipped the seatbelt on and then rested my head against the window. Fatigue was settling in. Never in all of my life had I used my abilities to such an extreme.

  For a time I just stared out the window marveling at the business of the city. There were so many cars (none of them moving very fast), and so much concrete! The buildings seemed massive and I had to wonder what it would be like working up on the umpteenth floor of one of them. Who would want to do that? Especially with the earthquakes that happened out here. The skyline looked dirty to me and I could smell exhaust fumes from the big truck in front of us. It wasn’t long before I lost my interest in the scenery. I yawned and cracked my neck before resting back against the seat.

  The quiet hum of the air-conditioner in the cab was soothing as we inched along on the busy freeway and I began to yawn. I pushed back against the glimpses of the driver. I just didn’t have any energy to look at his business. It didn’t take long for my heavy lids to close.

  “Wake up little weaver.” the voice was a distant whisper.

  I straightened in the seat and rubbed my eyes with the backs of my hands.

  “That’ll be $25.00 even,” said the driver as he reached his hand over his head. I caught his gaze in the rear view mirror and shoved thirty dollars into his waiting hand. He wasn’t a bad person, I thought to myself. He wasn’t a very good person either. Unfortunately, sometimes the things I see are embarrassing.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled and slid out without another word. He popped the trunk so that I could get my bag myself. So much for service. I guess my five dollar tip didn’t warrant that. Fair is fair, his rudeness wouldn’t warrant any of my help either. Standing in front of the building, I noticed a sign which read ‘Palm Crest’ only the ‘C’ was hanging haphazardly, so it looked like ‘Palm rest.” I took a deep breath and realized that my focus was grainy. How appropriate I thought because I was seriously exhausted. My eyes felt like they had sand in them and my back was stiff. Little weaver? What the hell did that mean? Just the same, I couldn’t help but smile to myself at the thought of the way his voice sounded when he said it -soft and low. I could almost feel his warm breath in my ear. With that distracted thought, I reached into my bag and produced a key chain with one solitary silver key on it. Home-sweet-baked-home. When I was a little girl, my parents gave me one of those pretend ovens, and a perfect, tiny china tea set that had belonged to my Momma for Christmas. I spent hours in my bedroom playing with them. I planned birthday parties for my dollies and indulged my imagination to the limits baking and creating recipes of my own. My dollies had “real” food for our parties. Since then I’d always thought of my creations like funny little recipes.

  I opened the gate and stepped into the courtyard. There were two older ladies playing cards at a table by the pool. There was also a small boy and his mother going up the stairs on the opposite side of the stairwell. I noticed the little boy was doing his very best to keep up with his mother as she tugged his hand, though his little legs were struggling to get up those stairs. I also noticed a heavy set bald man in bright orange Hawaiian shorts doing laps in the water. The little boy on the stairs paused to watch him too. The mother was frustrated and chastised the boy for moving too slowly. He wanted to practice swimming. In fact, it was something he wanted more than anything but mom had no time for that. Sadly, she didn’t hear him at all. All she cared about was getting him into their apartment because she needed to get on the phone with her brother before she left for work, and ask to borrow money. Again. I could tell that she was doing the best she could, and I knew that her brother would help so I didn’t do anything to change this.

  Lives in motion often make me pause to watch. It amazes me how some people either ignore or overlook what is right in front of them. Speaking of which, not one of them gave me so much as a glance. That really isn’t common behavior in Dempsey Arkansas where I am from. In my little town, people are more friendly (or nosey). We would at least offer a polite smile, a wave, or something -- especially to a new neighbor. Maybe it was a city thing. Whatever the case, I was glad. I didn’t feel like talking to anybody right now. Sleep. That’s what I needed more than anything. I used my key, shut the front door behind me, and locked it.

  Glancing around the apartment, I immediately felt a deep sense of guilt. I had never used my abilities the way that I had in the last two days. Though I had no idea why, I lived by certain rules. Some things I had learned by trial and error; others, I just knew intuitively. For example, I never changed anything that would deliberately bring harm to another living being. I never brought people back from the dead (except for that first and only time with my Mamaw), and I never used my ability for personal gains. Well…not unless it is within reason. Somehow it just didn’t feel right to use it that way. The guilt is just awful.

  That’s not to say I am an angel. I have “arranged” small advantages here and there but I have my scruples. Like, I wouldn’t make myself a millionaire but I might change a situation so that financial problems are avoided. Like the time I adjusted an investment decision for my Daddy. I don’t know a thing about investing in farm equipment, but when I learned that his business partner had taken my Daddy’s money and gambled it away, well I just couldn’t sit by and watch him loose everything he’d worked so hard for.

  The apartment, the adjusting, it all seemed surreal. Sometimes the ability seemed overwhelming, like trying to grasp the concept of infinite space. I stepped into the bathroom and laughed. There were no towels, no shampoo, conditioner, or soap. Through the adjacent door to the bedroom, I saw that the room was completely empty. Details! I closed the door and imagined all of the items from home that I would need. Using this as a primer for my necessities would be fine for now. I was too tired to get creative. In an instant, my empty rooms resembled home minus a few minor details. For example, Bailey’s mess was missing. My sister constantly dumped her clothes in heaping piles all over the bathroom, and left nasty, spit-laden polka dots of toothpaste on the mirror. It was nice not to have to contend with that. Still it was not what I would have wanted for my first private bathroom. I told myself I would pick up some magazines for ideas and personalize it later.

  Refreshed from a shower, I threw my hair up in a towel and padded down the hall in my robe. I had no plans to do anything else beyond waiting to hear from “him” and channel surfing. Just as I clicked the television on and spread out on the couch, the doorbell rang. I got up quickly and went to the peep hole in the door. I couldn’t see anything but the pink tone of a finger.

  “I’m not a stalker,” said the voice from the other side of the door.

  Hesitating briefly to yank the towel off my head, I opened the door a small amount and peaked out.

  A girl with two long, light-colored braids wearing holey jean shorts and a lace up purple corset cracked her gum and grinned at me. Looking down, I noticed that she had fishnet stockings and pointy little black boots on. Strange attire, but what do I know of fashion? Forcing a polite smile, the thought flicked through my mind that the girls out here dress really weird. When I looked back at her face, she was rolling her eyes dramatically.

  “Hi, I’m Lela,” she said with forced enthusiasm as she extending her bird-like hand. I noticed it held a little piece of paper.

  “Hello. What is this?” I asked, taking the folded piece of paper from her without looking down. My heart was pounding. I knew partially what it was. Guy. Very cute guy. Note for me. That was about all that I could pull.

  “Okay, that’s just odd. Why do you act like you don’t know?” Her smile was genuine, but the bird-like
way she cocked her head drove a chill up my spine. It reminded me of the giant crows that perched on our fence back home.

  “Read the note, I’ll wait.” She said with a deliberate sigh and adjusted the purple ribbon that hung from one of her braids.

  I opened the door further, and stepped back. “Would you like to come in?”

  Lela pushed the braid she’d just adjusted over her shoulder. “Why Miss Joey, I’d be delighted to come into your little home.” She giggled and added “your accent is so cute!” I tried to smile as she stepped in acting like she had known me for years. The truth was, I hadn’t seen her coming. A fact that had me more than slightly rattled. I was tired and out of my element. Los Angeles was nothing like home. More to the point, Lela was nothing like the girls I knew. She was too personal, too forward, and just plain gruff.

  “Nice place” she said with an emphasis on “nice” and a snotty smirk. Next, she flounced herself down on the couch, which further served to establish my opinion because it was just rude to do that without first being asked to make yourself comfortable. I’m sure the expression on my face showed my confusion.

  “I’m new here,” I mumbled.

  “Yeah, I know. Can you read that so we can go?” She said dully.

  “I’m sorry…go?”

  “Yeah, go. This place is depressing.” You could have done a lot better.” She cracked her gum and winked.

  I leaned against the closed front door and unfolded the note.

  Welcome to town Joey. There’s lots to discuss. Meet me at Kiss Kiss. Lela will bring you.

  Kessler.

  I could hear his voice as I read the words on the pale blue paper. I closed my eyes and caught a flash of his glassy brown eyes…

  “Kess is yummy, isn’t he?” Lela said. She did a quick little shudder that gave me the willies.

  “Who is he?”

  “C’mon. Get dressed Joey. That ‘I-don’t-know-nothin’ act ain’t working for me.”

  I felt the blood rush to my face. “Look, Lela,” (I’d pronounced it like Lay-la).

  “It’s pronounced ‘Lel-ah’ sweetie. Please don’t drawl when you say my name. Think, like tell-a, you know, as in tell-a-friend.” Again with the condescending wink. More like tell a person who cares, I thought.

  “Whatever your name is, I don’t know who you are and I don’t know who Kess is, and I really don’t feel like going anywhere with anyone right now.”

  “Oh, my God!” she said and covered her mouth with both hands. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to come across so rude. I really didn’t.” She bit her lip and looked down. “Kessler would be really pissed if he thought that I made you feel upset. I’ve got a really bad habit of making bad first impress--…”

  “Go with her Joey. It’s okay” Kalan’s voice came so clearly that Lela’s words were nothing but muffled background noise.

  “And besides, I thought that you and I would be friends.” She added before offering a weak smile. I should say a fake smile. I tried to glean more from her but nothing came through. Not that I needed more insight to know that she and I would not become BFFs. I returned my best smile (which I hoped was more convincing than hers). Kalan wanted me to go with her and since this was the only lead I had, I didn’t have much of a choice.

  “I’ll just change, give me a couple minutes, okay?” I said, and headed back down the hall to my room. Apparently satisfied with herself, Lela reached for the remote and put her feet up Indian style on my couch. “Cool. No problem, take your time.” All of her dramatic niceness toned down.

  I could hear her cracking her gum as I changed into a pair of jeans and a white, loose knit blouse. Reaching under the bed, I pulled out my favorite pair of brown sandals (that I had left under my bed at home). My hair was still wet, so I tossed it up into a ponytail. I paused to take a quick glance in the mirror on the back of the door and then grabbed my floppy purse from the top of my dresser. This would be interesting. I paused to see if Kalan would tell me anything else but after a few moments of frustrating mental silence, I gave up.

  Lela’s black truck was parked in the front of the building. She clicked the alarm before I reached the passenger door. She had left the engine running and the cool interior was a welcomed relief. “Hot here huh?” She said as we pulled out.

  “Yeah, it’s a little more than I’m used to for this time of year, and it’s so dry.” I said absently as I settled into the passenger seat.

  “The Santa Ana winds are something you’ll get used to. I love it! The hotter the better.”

  “So how did you know I was here?” I asked tentatively. I had a million questions. More than anything, I wanted to know what Lela or this Kessler guy had to do with Kalan. I really didn’t like her much, but I figured it best to go with the flow if I wanted to get any information.

  “I don’t know how Kess knows what he knows. I only know what I know.” She said and laughed. Her laugh was too shrill in the confines of the truck. I felt a sudden surge of panic rise up in my stomach. After all, I had no idea who this girl was and I was relying on a voice in my head for reassurance. The same voice that had me jump on a plane, leave my family and use my abilities beyond any measure of reason I had. Poop on a cracker. Panic was settling into my chest.

  “Lela, I uh, I don’t want to sound irrational, but I have no idea who ya’ll are and I am –

  Lela snorted. “I love that ‘ya’ll’ you are just too Scarlett O’Hara ca-yute!”

  “Whatever -- you guys then” I said with an emphasis on ‘guys’ to sound more like her. I was reaching a serious level of irritation. I’m patient (to a fault some would say) but this was ridiculous. Why in the Sam hell was she trying to provoke me? Lela was not someone I could read. At all. I was not going to be able to go with the flow after all. This was just way too much and I was done with a capital D. I didn’t have to do this, and I wasn’t going to. I turned my head to look out the window and focused on my apartment. Nothing happened. I couldn’t adjust. This revelation came as a shocker when I tried to put myself back to lounging on my couch and not answering the doorbell. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I was going with the flow, like it or not. I crossed my arms and tried to act normal. My driver mumbled something under her breath that sounded like “hillbilly.” I’m a practical person, but if she said one more snippy thing I promised myself I’d slap the snide right out of her. A thought which gave me great satisfaction.

  “And for the record, Scarlett was from Georgia not Arkansas” I snapped.

  “Well, what-evuh.” she said, and turned up the radio. We didn’t speak for the remainder of the ride. I stared straight ahead and silently wished that Kalan would say something to ease my concerns. Sadly, no words of wisdom came from him. I distracted myself by counting palm trees, biting the dead skin on the side of my thumb, and listening to her weird techno music.

  Kiss Kiss was a dance club located in a trendy part of the city. It was only 4:30 in the afternoon and the place wasn’t open yet. According to the closed sign on the door, the hours of operation were from 6:00pm to 2:00am. Compared to Dempsey that was surreal for me. I had to marvel at that because by 8:00 most stores were closed and absolutely nothing was open until two o’clock in the morning! Lela slid what looked like a credit card into the door and hastily pulled me by the wrist through the entrance.

  The club had wall-to-wall mirrors and huge staircases that went up to higher levels on both sides of the large room. There were gigantic framed pictures of circus acts everywhere. A man with a handle-bar mustache on a funny looking bicycle, a lady in a pink tutu holding an umbrella on the other. My eyes travelled to a glass booth overhead. It was filled with mixing equipment and I could see a man adjusting switches in there. A tall man behind the bar was shouting up to the guy in the booth in response to his repeated “one-two-check-check” signals coming through the speakers. A few girls with big hair and skimpy outfits were talking and laughing by the staircase. As soon as we neared them they parted to allow Lela through. Sh
e still had my wrist and pulled hard as she led me up the stairs, her sandy braids swinging back and forth as she went. I tried to pull free of her grasp but she was stronger than I thought.

  Since I couldn’t adjust anything, I looked below to ensure that I had a clear idea of where the exits were. I certainly didn’t feel at ease, and I wanted to know how to get my rear-end out of here quick if I needed to.

  I could see that there were black and red striped circus tents that covered individual tables below. This made each seating area seem extremely private, except for the open views from the top. For a brief moment I imagined the false sense of security such a cozy setting could afford a couple…and what an intrusive design it was. Lela still had my wrist when she pounded on a door at the top of the stairs. “It’s open,” came the soft reply from the other side. With a quick wink and a crack of her gum Lela opened the door and shoved me through before closing it and leaving.