by Anna Martin
“Lips sealed. Are we going to do the rest of the lasagnas before you open?” Arlo asked.
“Yes. Yes. And I’ll do the cheesecakes. I think with … openness. People could use a bit of interaction with each other, right?”
“Sure.” Arlo grinned. After all these months, he still loved watching Frankie work.
“Since you’ve got the food charming down, you want to work on rain spells next? They’re completely useless, but they’ll impress the boys,” Frankie said with a wink. “I should know.”
“How could I say no to that?” Arlo chuckled.
I have to go find him.
Arlo had just woken up again, heart racing, from another dream. The same voice, the same snow, five days in a row. It had to mean something. It had to.
Arlo pulled himself out of bed and stumbled to the closet. His chest ached a bit, like there had been something there and it was suddenly gone. He shook off the feeling and pulled his bags from the floor of the closet. He started to pack his belongings away. It wouldn’t take long. He’d never had very many things. Arlo had to find whoever it was. He had to find the voice.
“Arlo? What are you doing?” His cousin Frankie stood in the doorway, scrubbing a hand through tousled dark curls that looked a lot like his own but a few inches shorter. He had on a pair of pajama pants and a tank top and looked confused. Arlo felt bad about waking him up.
“Sorry if I was being loud.”
It was early, probably only a little bit past sunrise. Arlo knew he must look like he’d lost his mind, frantically packing in the pale light of early morning. He also knew that Frankie would understand.
Arlo had been staying with Frankie and his husband Addison in San Francisco since Christmas time, by far the longest he’d been anywhere since he’d left home. He’d loved his time with them, learning from Frankie and growing into his skills. He’d thought he might stay there with them. He’d been happy there, after all.
But now he had to go. He needed to go.
“That’s okay.” Frankie walked over and sank onto Arlo’s bed. “Are you going to explain to me what’s going on here?”
“I’ve been having dreams,” Arlo said. Okay, that sounded a little dramatic. He shoved a shirt into his duffel bag.
“Fantastic attention to detail. You want to expand on that a little?” Frankie smiled tiredly.
“Don’t be sarcastic,” Arlo said. He pushed the heel of his hand against his eye for a moment. It didn’t help ground him. “I’m too flustered to try bantering with you.”
“Sorry. Tell me about the dreams.”
“You know how Sofia has dreams? You know, dreams?” Arlo asked. That was enough of an explanation. He saw the moment Frankie got it, loud and clear on his face. Frankie’s eyes widened slightly, and he bit his lip.
“Yeah. Of course, I know about her dreams,” he rushed out. “Really?” Arlo and Frankie were both very aware of Arlo’s sister’s best skill. She’d had it for years, but prophetic dreams weren’t a common gift in their family. The past few nights for Arlo had been a first. He wasn’t going to act – dreams weren’t his thing after all – but the dream just kept happening, over and over. Even Arlo wasn’t that clueless.
“Yes. Dream dreams. Like hers. Or the same one over and over, I guess.”
Frankie’s eyes went wide. He stumbled into the room and sank down on Arlo’s unmade bed. “Like…”
“I don’t dream like Sofia does. At least, I never have before, but I have been. All week. And it feels real. Like something that’s supposed to happen. I wake up every day and I can still feel it.” He didn’t know how to explain how it felt different, not like a normal dream. Or how he’d known that whatever was in the scene, those people, the smells, that feeling, was something he needed to find.
“You want to call your sister?” Frankie asked gently. Sofia would be able to help him, but talking to her wouldn’t cure the itch under his skin. Wouldn’t rid the need to find the person attached to the voice he could still hear in the back of his head. The one who called him baby, and felt like forever.
“Nah. I’m just going to get on the road. You know if we call, she’ll come here and if she comes here, it’s going to be a big thing, and I just…” He needed to go. Like, immediately.
“Babe.” Frankie sighed. “Do you even know where you’re going?”
Arlo knew his mother and Frankie had hoped living with a like-minded family member would cure him of his need to wander. He’d kind of hoped it would, too. And it had. Before the dream. Before the magnet that was pulling him out of San Francisco and towards the snow and the lasagna and that aching love that still pulsed in his chest.
“It was snowing in the dream. So north somewhere, I’d imagine. Probably east too.”
“It’s a pretty big country, man. That’s not a lot to go on. I think you should call your sister.”
Arlo stood silently for a few moments. And then he felt it right in his gut like he should’ve known all along. Zero doubt. “Maine,” he said. “I’m going to Maine.”
Maybe he did need to call Sofia. Dreams and visions were so out of his skill range, and he should make sure he wasn’t doing something wrong. He’d call once he got on the road.
Frankie looked worried. “Maine’s a long way from San Francisco.”
Arlo nodded. “It is. I suppose I’d better get going.”
