by Abra Ebner
I gave that question some thought. “I like to pretend sometimes, makes things seem interesting.”
He nodded. “So, then, let’s pretend. I’ll be the agent, you can be the female conquest, as you say.”
I gave him a sharp nod of compliance. “Deal.”
“You certainly are a different kind of girl, aren’t you?” He opened the door for me.
I walked into the lobby and sent him a sly look over my shoulder. “Actually, for the most part, I don’t act this way. I just feel like you’re different, that you won’t laugh or think I’m being childish.”
He looked down at his feet with a smirk on his face. “I’m likely the last person to think those things about you.”
I thought about the man in my dreams then, as his eyes met mine, the fog of it clearing as though trying to replace it with Jordan.
The low music of the restaurant muffled the sounds of the city outside. “Well hello, Jordan.” The blonde hostess was looking at him with shining eyes. She clearly had a crush. “You seem different.” She looked at him sideways, eyeing me as well.
“Hello, Meghan.” Jordan cleared his throat and gave me an innocent look, as though telling me her flirtation was not his fault.
The waitress glared at me once more before turning around to grab two menus from the rack. “Two tonight?”
I leaned close to his ear. “And you’ve never had a girlfriend, even when women like her look at you like that?”
He gave me a nudge and a glare, looking back at the waitress. “Yes Meghan, two.”
She gave him a smile, as though complimenting the fact that he was finally bringing a date, even though that date wasn’t her. “Right this way.”
She sat us at a table that was out of the way toward the back, a table he clearly seemed to own. We both sat and I tried my best to remain polite, though it was hard for me. Growing up, I was used to pizza parlor dinners and home cooking, hardly ever fancy restaurants. It was then I decided to test his theory, treating each thing around me as though a part of my home, and things became easier and I relaxed.
I watched the waitress walk away. “So, how do you make your money?” The question was blunt, but I was burning with curiosity.
He let a sharp breath pass his lips as I watched his mouth curl. “Investing.”
I nodded, finding his answer vague and unassuming, an obvious cover up for a real reason that was surely unsavory. I chuckled under my breath. “So tell me, are you involved in the mafia, or anything like the mafia, because I don’t really think I want to be a part of that.”
He laughed. “I thought I was a secret agent?”
I tilted my head and glared at him. “I’m serious, Jordan. My own safety always comes first.”
He gave me a mocking look. “And that it does, obviously.”
I made a face at him.
His smile faded. “No mafias, nothing illegal, ok?” He paused for a moment, “More like betting, much like the stock market.”
I could see through his veil of secrecy. “That all sounds good, but I still don’t buy it. I want the truth. If you tell me the truth, I’ll tell you something about myself that will even the playing field. Promise.”
He nodded. “Alright then…”
I cut him off. “I knew it. You were lying.”
He chuckled. “Not quite. I do invest, but not in your typical way. I have a knack for placing bets, if that makes sense. When I was twenty-one, I took all the money my parents had left me and bet it on the Kentucky Derby, and won a couple grand. After that it became a hobby, and now here I am.”
“Seriously?” I leaned toward him in disbelief. “See now, that is a lot more interesting than saying you invest.”
He looked me in the eyes. “Does that make me more appealing?”
I smiled. “Actually, yes. I like interesting. In my opinion, the weirder the better.”
“Really?” He gave me a look that suggested he was thinking of many more things I may enjoy, and I reveled in the mystery of it. He lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head, “So then tell me something that’s weird about you. It’s only fair.”
The first thing that came to mind when he said that was the dreams. “Well, I dream a lot. A lot more than normal people, it seems. Really sucks actually; I can never sleep.”
His face was suddenly still. “Really. How do you mean?”
“Well, as soon as I fall asleep, it’s like I flip to some other life of mine. I always told myself I had a vivid imagination,” I laughed. “Perhaps one day I’ll make a movie of it so that explaining it is easier.” I rolled my eyes and sat back. “I used to take something to try and make them stop, but it was no use. After years and years of it, I no longer mind. It’s almost become something I look forward to, something that is unique about me.”
“Hmm.” He looked at his water glass. “What sort of dreams?”
I sighed. “You really want to hear all this?”
He sat up straight. “Yes, I’m actually quite intrigued.”
I shrugged and put my napkin in my lap as he had, following his lead. “Nothing spectacular. It’s as though I wake up in this alternative life. I have friends, make friends, go to work, just typical life stuff. I always thought that dreams were supposed to be wild and unexpected, with flying and so on, but they never were for me.” I laughed at the absurdity of it, but his face remained solemn.
He scratched his head in thought. “Really?”
“Really, I swear.” I put my hand in the air with a flat palm. “Scout’s honor.”
He laughed before his face again turned serious. “What about today after the Max incident? You told me you had dreamt that, too?” He placed his hands on the table in front of him as I saw the waiter come around the corner.
“Are you ready to order?” He smiled politely, but under it all I could see he hated his job.
I exhaled. “Gosh, I didn’t even look.”
Jordan looked at the waiter as though they were buddies. “I’ll just have what I always do. Get her the quail. I believe that will work?”
He looked at me then, and a bit of disappointment washed over me. It was true I would have loved the quail and would have picked it on my own, but I also wanted the option to choose for myself first. “Sure.” My voice was laced with hurt.
“What? You don’t want the quail?” Jordan shrugged.
“No, I do! It’s just weird that you can choose like that and know what I want, secret agent.” I said the last part under my breath.
Jordan looked at the waiter, and he nodded, returning to the kitchen.
I crossed my arms over my lap, sitting up straight. “So, it’s your turn again.”
“My turn?” He pointed at himself. “I was enjoying talking about you.”
“Nope, fair is fair.” I brought my finger up and pointed at his face. “I want to know about that bruise.”
I saw him sink into his chair. “It’s just a bruise, is all. It will go away in ten to fourteen days.”
I laughed. “Are you making fun of my medical abilities?”
A smirk lit up his face. “Just keeping it light is all; letting us acclimate to each other without digging up too much dirt.”
I thought about what dirt he could possibly have. “You’ve got a lot of secrets Jordan, I can tell.”
“Really, is it obvious?” He winked at me.
“Whatever. You’re avoiding my question. What’s with the bruise?”
He sat up. “Like you thought, it’s just from the other night at the party.”
I thought about the party and all the big rugby players, feeling his pain. “Ouch, that must have hurt.” I gave him a sympathetic face.
The waiter came back then with a bottle of wine, uncorking it at the table, which I admit was a bit awkward. He placed two glasses before us, and poured a little. Jordan took the glass and smelled it, then took a sip and I played along, finding it exciting. In one gulp it was gone, and Jordan looked at me over the rim of the glass with amusemen
t, placing it back on the table.
He nodded at the waiter and he poured us a full glass and left. “So, it’s your turn, Kenzie.”
Anxiety washed over me. This felt like truth or dare, “Yeah, and?”
“Tell me something.” He took another sip of wine in a manner that was so masculine, it just added to the suave effect of his suit.
I felt the need to spice up the conversation. “Well, I like you.”
His eyebrows went up, and he smirked. “No offense, but that’s obvious.”
“Wow, for someone that can act as shy as you do, that was rather cocky.”
“Well, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, so…” He sat up, and I could see the topic did indeed fluster him a bit.
“I don’t know, there’s something about you that I knew I liked from the beginning. You were different.” I eyed him.
“Well, what do you want me to say?”
I felt annoyed. “I want you to tell me what you think of me.”
He pursed his lips. “You’re intriguing, and you always seem to find trouble,” he winked.
“Well, you’re always in the right place at the right time, like you know it’s going to happen.” I thought about that fact, knowing how weird it was. “Why is that?”
He let out a sharp exhale. “Luck.”
I laughed. “Come on, luck has nothing to do with it. I think it’s fate.”
Our dinners came then, and the smells were all I needed to distract me from the subject at hand. I rolled my eyes at his typical male pick, steak and potatoes. He cut into the meat and ate a bite, the silence between us growing.
“Fate’s a strong word, you know,” he broke the silence after he’d swallowed.
I nodded. “Why is that?”
He smirked. “Because it’s subjective.”
“Subjective? How can fate be subjective?” I took a bite of my own food and nearly swooned. It was delicious.
“Fate is what you make it. You’ve heard that before right?” He looked at me.
“Yes, and I do believe that to a degree, but human nature is also human nature, and it can sometimes interfere. And besides, how can you be so certain that fate doesn’t know you may change your mind about certain things already? Maybe when you think you’re making something happen, fate already wanted that.”
He looked at me sideways. “That’s a profound point. But then how can human nature interfere?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Love, anger, emotion. If fate is subjective, then there is always emotion there to try and trump it, sort of like devil’s advocate. What I’m saying is that in the end, fate always prevails because you can’t ignore emotion, and you can’t change everything. Whether it takes a day or years, fate always gets even.”
He nodded. “That’s interesting. I suppose I never looked at it that way.”
I nodded and our conversation fell to silence for the rest of the meal. At the end of the night, I was full and happy, nearly forgetting about all that had happened that day, or even this week. Jordan drove me back to my dorm, where we parked outside.
“What should I do with the suit?” Jordan was looking at himself.
I shrugged. “Keep it. You’ll need it.”
He shut off the car and gave me a nod.
“How will you get back to wherever you live?” I looked around, realizing I had no clue where it was that Jordan lived.
He pointed to a motorcycle across the lot. “That’s mine.”
I gawked. “Really? I’ve never known someone with a bike.”
He was playing with his hands. “Well, you know, it’s practical.” He grabbed the handle then and got out of the car.
I let out a sharp breath of disappointment. Clearly he had never done this before.
“Well goodnight, Kenzie.” He looked at me over the top of the car.
“Wait!” I walked around the hood and came right up to him.
There was a scared look in his eye. “For what?”
I glared at him. “You’re from another planet, aren’t you?”
He laughed. “No, why?”
I put my hands on his shoulders. His eyes never left mine. I thought to say something, but I figured it would ruin the moment, so I leaned into him instead, bringing one hand up onto the back of his head and pulling him toward me. He did not blink as my lips met his, giving him the softest kiss I could manage without scaring him away. I pulled back and saw him blush, his eyes catching what little light there was in the dark parking lot.
“Wow,” he swallowed.
I giggled. “Just wanted to see what it was like, is all.”
He put his hands in his pockets. “Well…”
I stopped him. “Thanks for dinner, Jordan. See you tomorrow?” I knew that he was struggling to find something to say, so I figured I’d help him out.
He nodded. “Yeah, tomorrow.”
I smiled then and trotted off toward the dorm, looking back when I got to the door, only to see that he was still standing in the same spot, watching me. I gave a little wave and unlocked the door, entering the hall and going straight to my room to tell Amy.
Statement from Dr. Ashcroft,
Vincent Memorial Hospital, Boston
August 4, 2009
04:07 a.m.
Agent Donnery:
So you told him about the dreams, but he told you nothing about the fact that he had caused them?
Dr. Ashcroft:
No, not at the time, but it made sense. If he had told me right away, it would have freaked me out, to say the least. I was certain I had actually scared him because my story seemed crazy. (laughter) Apparently not. I don’t think he ever knew that the dreams would happen, so I’m sure he felt guilt for it.
Agent Donnery:
So then I’m guessing this is when you started dating, right?
Dr. Ashcroft:
Actually, no. I never understood what really happened, but I did see that girl again, the one from class. A part of me thought she had something to do with it, like I said. Perhaps they were seeing each other. (pause) I’m actually hoping some of these papers may shed some light on things, something he hasn’t yet told me.
Agent Donnery:
Here, there’s one dated a few days after the incident. Shall we read this?
Dr. Ashcroft:
Of course. Please.
Stories from the journals
of Patient #32185
October 4, 2005
01:21 p.m.
Walking to class two days later, I found that I was more excited than usual to see Kenzie and I knew it was because now it was different; now she actually knew who I was and the conversations between us were no longer in my head, but real. What I couldn’t forget, however, were the things she told me about her dreams and the parallel life that was still hers.
It had never occurred to me that all this was doing something to her memory beyond her hunches about knowing me somehow. If I had known what it was doing to her perhaps I would have let it be, but so far, my actions did little than steal her dreams from her, leaving her instead with a sort of double life that turned over every night like Jekyll and Hyde.
I watched my feet as they hit the pavement, droning onward in a meditative fashion. I wondered what that would be like to fall asleep in one life and wake up in the other, and how on earth she ever kept it all straight. I suppose there was something that told her this was the life she was really living, but, what if it wasn’t? What if she just told me that and she really didn’t know which life was real?
I shook my head, my thoughts becoming deep and confusing. This was the real life she lived now, and all the past was just a memory. Besides, if I should worry about anyone keeping it straight, it should be me. It was hard enough to know what day it was, let alone year, but the truth was I just knew and that was it. My brain had adapted to this way of life much like hers had, and regardless what had happened, we were still alive and that was all that truly mattered.
I looked up at th
e trees, the breeze picking at the leaves as they desperately tried to cling to their branches, much like me. It had only been four days since I stopped traveling, but already I was growing tired of the routine. I put my hand on my side. The bruising was beginning to lighten up, and the aching pain was ebbing. I was relieved, at best, no longer fearing that I had finally done it and killed myself.
“Hey!” A girl’s familiar voice crept up from behind me, causing chills to run up my spine.
I stopped cold in my tracks, turning slowly as I looked into the turquoise eyes I dreaded. I pursed my lips. “Oh, you.”
Molly was standing there, her hood up over her head, as always. “Good to hear you’re excited to see me.”
“Who are you? And what’s with the hood? Is it supposed to scare me?” I shoved my hands in my pockets, the cool fall air stinging my fingers along with the sudden chill Molly had brought with her presence.
She tilted her head and glared. “I wear what I want, got it?”
I let out a sharp breath. “Alright, alright, I got it.” I lifted my hands along with my coat, refusing to take them out of my pockets, just as Molly had.
