Perchance to Dream

by Lyssa Chiavari

  “Please, sit down.” They all found seats at the kitchen table. “Thank you for coming,” Mel said.

  “Of course. Now, you said that you suspect foul play in your mother’s death?”

  “Yes. I know it seemed like a suicide, but it seems to me that if anybody knew she was suicidal, it would have been me, right? I was her only child, and we’ve always been really close. She’d never been happier than she was recently. She’d gotten a promotion at work, and we were doing better financially than we ever have.”

  Officer Stern shook his head. “That’s not reason to assume she wasn’t suicidal. She was found on a Wednesday morning, right?”

  “Yes, sir. Early. Around six, I think.” Mel folded her hands in front of her.

  “And is your relationship with her the only reason you assume she didn’t commit suicide?”

  Mel sighed. “Women almost never commit messy suicides like that. Women drown themselves and take pills. This doesn’t make sense.”

  Detective Rosen smiled gently. “Are you a fan of crime shows?”

  “Sort of. But it’s not just that. I learned about it in my psychology class, too.”

  “While it’s true that women overwhelmingly do not jump off of bridges onto asphalt bike paths, there is literally no evidence to support any other theory.”

  Tears welled briefly in Mel’s eyes. “That’s why you have to investigate! There won’t be any evidence if you don’t look for it.”

  “Ms. Daniels, I know you’re grieving. But please take a moment to think about this.”

  “I have! I have thought about it, and—” Mel broke off. They waited patiently while she caught her breath. “And I know this isn’t just me wishing. She’s my mom, all right? And I know her. Knew her.”

  The officers exchanged a look. “I’m sorry,” Detective Rosen said, closing the file she’d had in front of her. “There’s nothing we can do. If you find any actual evidence, please do call the station.”

  She pulled a business card from her wallet and handed it to Mel.

  “If you need anything,” she added, “please don’t hesitate to call me. I know some wonderful grief counselors that I can recommend to you.”

  “Thank you,” Mel said. She ran her fingers through her hair. “I appreciate you coming. I’ll let you know when I have more evidence.”

  Detective Rosen looked at her with sympathy. “Okay. I’ll be here.”

  Mel showed the officers out. Just as they closed their car doors, Clara pulled into the driveway. She walked up to the front door, where Mel was still standing, watching the police car drive away.

  “So the police came already,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “And? What did they say?”

  “They’re not going to help.”

  Clara’s face relaxed visibly. “Good.”

  “What? Why is that good? Don’t you want to know what happened to your sister?”

  “I know what happened. She jumped off a bridge and ended her own life,” she said. “I have no doubts.”

  “Well, I do.” Mel spun around and stalked back into the house.

  “Mel, come back here right now.”

  She stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “What?”

  “I understand you’re in pain, but there is a point at which your behavior becomes unacceptable. You are fast reaching that point. Take some time to think about your actions.”

  “Fine.” Mel turned the corner around the staircase and shut herself in her room. Once alone, she pulled out her cell phone and typed in Hannah’s number. The phone rang once, twice. Mel lay down on her bed, head sinking into the fluffy pillows.

  “Hello?”

  “Hannah, it’s me, Mel.”

  “Hey, Mel. How’s it going?”

  “I’ve got even more reason to believe it was... her.” Best not be overheard.

  “Oh? What happened?”

  “The police came by, and they’re not going to reopen the investigation.” Mel’s stomach curdled. How dare they?

  “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you wanted.”

  “But when she found out, she seemed too happy that it wasn’t going to happen.”

  “Are you sure she wasn’t just hoping you’d move past this?”

  Mel tensed. “Are you hoping that?”

  “I just want the truth for you. Whatever that means,” Hannah said soothingly. “You know that.”

  “I know. Sorry. But I do think she was too relieved. Like she was hiding something.”

  “Well, what are you going to do next?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not giving up, though.”

  ❦

  As soon as the bell rang for lunch the next day, Mel ran to Lea’s locker. She might only have a few minutes to catch her before she went to the drama classroom.

  “Hey, you.” Lea walked up and kissed Mel, their fight in the coffee shop forgotten. “I wasn’t expecting you here. What’s up?”

  “Do you have a drama club meeting today?”

  “Not officially, but I was going to drop by and talk to Mr. Bell about something. It can wait, though. You seem flushed. You okay?”

  “Yeah, I just—can we sit down?”

  “Of course.” Lea furrowed her brow in concern as they sat on the floor in front of their lockers, several feet away from the nearest group of students. “Now talk to me.”

  “So Detective Rosen came by last night.”

  “Oh, God.”

  Mel could see Lea trying to refrain from rolling her eyes. “Don’t do that. Just listen to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Go ahead.”

  “They’re not going to do an equivocal death investigation. They’re not going to do anything.”

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  “What?” The word came out like a yelp. “That isn’t a good thing!”

  “I mean, it kind of is, Mel.” Lea smiled. “Maybe now that they’ve told you it wasn’t foul play, you’ll believe it.”

  “But when Clara came home as they left, she asked me about it. And I told her the same thing I told you, and she looked relieved! Like she’d been afraid they would figure out what she’d done!”

  “You are making no sense, you know that, right?” Lea shook her head. “Your aunt did not kill her sister. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “You just don’t know them as well as I do.”

  “And you? You love your aunt, you always have. Wasn’t going over to visit her and Joseph your favorite thing to do in the summer when you were a kid?”

  “So maybe I was wrong.” Mel shrugged. “But this time...”

  “No, this time, you’re wrong. But, hey, if you don’t believe your aunt, or your uncle, or the police—why should you listen to me?” Lea stood up. “I’m going to go talk to Mr. Bell. I’ve got to run home after school, too. Adam’s got soccer practice so I have to let the dog out. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She left before Mel could utter another word.

  Mel looked after her in shock. Nobody was listening to her! It wasn’t fair. If nobody would listen, if she couldn’t find evidence, if she couldn’t find some way to render justice—would she have to live with her mother’s murderer for the next two years?

  Her head swam with terrifying images: Clara standing behind her mother on the bridge. Clara looking over the dead body. Clara in her house, in her mother’s bed, perhaps planning Mel’s own death to look like a grief-stricken suicide. It wouldn’t be a stretch. Everybody thought she’d lost her mind, especially Lea. Detective Rosen and her partner would be able to testify to her overwhelming grief. The thought was chilling.

  ❦

  When she got home that afternoon, Joseph was just pulling into the driveway. He joined her in the kitchen a few minutes later.

  “Would you like some tea?” he asked.

  “Sure, that’d be great.” Mel pulled out her Spanish textbook and flipped to the vocabulary she was supposed to be studying.

  “Ho
w was school today?”

  “It was okay. I had a fight with Lea,” she ventured.

  “Oh? Why’s that?” Joseph flipped on the electric kettle and took a seat beside her.

  “Oh, I don’t know. It’s just been hard recently.” No matter how understanding he was, she couldn’t tell him she suspected his wife of murder.

  He nodded knowingly. “Relationships are hard enough without grief poking its nasty head in and making a mess.”

  “You seem to do okay.”

  “Well, your aunt and I have been together for many years, and we have a lot more experience behind us. That makes a big difference. But even we struggled when your father died.” The kettle clicked off, and Joseph stood to finish the tea.

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yes.” He poured the now-boiling water into two mugs and brought them over to the table, his large, dark hands dwarfing the handles. “Your aunt and I had only been dating for a few months, you know. We didn’t know each other well enough for me to be able to help her through the mourning process.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Now, we made it through okay. But it was rough for a while. She loved your father very much, you know.”

  Mel frowned. “She wasn’t...”

  Joseph laughed. “Oh, not like that. No, she and your mother had very different taste in partners, which was probably good for their relationship. But the two of them had been getting closer, finally, after the struggle in college, and his death was a huge strain. Your mother had a very hard time, and I think Clara wanted her to move on faster than she was ready.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Your aunt is not the type to wallow. She processes her emotions more quickly than others—sometimes so fast it looks like she hasn’t felt anything at all. Don’t think she isn’t grieving now, though.”

  Mel took tiny sips of her tea, trying to avoid being burned. The insulation-charmed ceramic mugs were nice when she forgot her tea for forty minutes, but less so when she wanted to drink it immediately. “But what happened in college?” Maybe the issue had come back, and that’s what had caused her aunt to... The words were still hard, but she forced herself to think them. To kill Mom.

  “You know, I never really knew the details. Neither of them ever wanted to talk about it. But something drove them apart for several years.”

  “Mom never said anything.”

  “She wanted you to have a good relationship with your aunt.” Joseph put his hand on Mel’s. “And she still would, despite all of this.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Guilt washed over Mel. She definitely couldn’t tell him now.

  “She put us in her will as your legal guardians for a reason.”

  “I figured it was just the only choice.”

  “No, we had a long talk about it after Clara and I got married. Your mom said she trusted us to be able to raise you if necessary.”

  Mel’s heart sank further. “But you never wanted children.”

  Joseph shook his head. “That doesn’t mean we wouldn’t take care of you. That never meant we didn’t love you. And,” he chuckled, “it’s not as though you need a lot of raising now. The diaper-changing, time-out days are long over.”

  A laugh escaped Mel’s throat. “True.”

  “It is okay with you that we move in here, isn’t it?”

  She shrugged. “I really don’t have a choice.”

  “I know. But I’d like the situation to have your blessing, even though it doesn’t need your permission.”

  Mel stayed silent.

  “Well,” Joseph said, standing. “Think about it. I have some papers to grade, and I believe you have homework to do. Let me know if you need a hand.” He walked out of the kitchen, leaving Mel with a heavy conscience and a still-scalding mug of tea.

  ❦

  “Why won’t you listen to me?” Mel’s voice broke as her volume climbed.

  “Would you keep your voice down?” Lea hissed, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the door. “Come on!”

  Mel followed, glaring at her girlfriend. Fortunately, the bell had rung fifteen minutes ago and most students were already on their way home.

  “There,” Lea said once they were in the parking lot. “God, you were practically screaming. Everybody was listening.”

  “So what?”

  “So I don’t want to fight in front of them!”

  “Fine. But you’re still not listening to me.”

  “Because you have lost your mind. I have no idea how to make it clearer to you. Your aunt did not kill your mother.” Lea shook her head. “She did not.”

  “Why are you so reluctant to believe this?”

  “Reluctant?” Lea laughed. “I’m not reluctant. I’m telling you that this is not true. I don’t know why you want so badly for this to be true, but it’s not.”

  “You didn’t see her!”

  “I don’t have to.”

  “She told me...” Mel put her balled fists to her forehead. “My mother told me she was murdered. Told me it was Clara. Clara was way too relieved when the police didn’t investigate further. She and my mom had some mysterious fight in college that they never fully got over. How is this not adding up to you?”

  “Because you don’t even know what this fight was about, and you also don’t know that they never got over it.”

  “My uncle said—”

  “Your uncle is a secondhand source of information, and even he never said they weren’t over it. Just said they’d had a hard time of it. Well, guess what? That happens a lot. My dad and his sister fought over a boy they both had a crush on in college, and they hardly spoke for a year. One of my friends in seventh grade barely knew his great-aunt because she’d made some snide comment to his grandmother before he was even born, and they didn’t invite each other to family events anymore.”

  “Your point?” Mel snapped.

  “People don’t kill each other for that!”

  “Some do.”

  “Yes, but you can’t just assume...”

  “How many times have I told you my reasoning?”

  Lea threw up her hands. “That’s it. I can’t do this. You won’t listen.”

  “What do you mean?” Mel asked, suddenly quiet.

  “I’m sorry, Mel. But this is way too much for me. I care about you and I want you to do well. And I had every intention of standing by you through this.” Lea sighed. “But I can’t do this if you won’t listen to reason, if you won’t stop blaming your aunt for something it’s clear she didn’t do. Clear to me, at least,” she added.

  “Are you breaking up with me?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  The wind whistled through the trees and blew Lea’s hair around her face. She brushed it back impatiently and looked at Mel.

  “Well, then.” Mel nodded. “If you won’t support me in this, I suppose that’s for the best.”

  “I would support you. If you were being rational. Which you aren’t.”

  “Thanks for those kind final words,” Mel snapped. She walked away, leaving Lea standing there and shaking her head. She knew Lea would have to go back inside at some point, since she’d left a drama club meeting to have this conversation. Normally Mel didn’t interrupt her in meetings, but she hadn’t been able to find time to talk to her all day. Perhaps this was why.

  As she made her way down the sidewalk away from the school, she kicked at the fallen red leaves. So that was it. Lea had bowed out. That was fine.

  “I don’t need her,” she said aloud. There was still Hannah, or so she hoped. Maybe not. Maybe everybody was going to abandon her in this pursuit. It didn’t matter. She’d figure it out, no matter what it took, no matter who didn’t support her.

  Hannah. It’s Wednesday. She pulled out her cell phone to check the time. Three-thirty already. She bit her tongue to keep from cursing as she broke into a run, turning the corner so sharply she almost fell over.

  She slid in through the door of the studio at three forty-two,
apologizing profusely to Hannah before she’d even crossed the threshold.

  Hannah looked slightly frazzled, standing over the tables of small children, but smiled at Mel anyway.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Mel quickly washed her hands and jogged over to the tables. “What are we working on today?”

  “I figured we’d do kinetic paint again, but this time we’re painting animals. Well, mostly.” Hannah laughed. “Some of us are committed to landscapes.” She gestured to Xander, who was painting a range of volcanoes, all with lava spilling out their tops.

  “Got it.” Mel slid into camp-counselor mode, shoving all of her anger at Lea to the back of her mind. As she told jokes and cleaned up paint spills, she felt it boiling but shrugged it off. There was nothing she could do.

  “I’m sorry I was late,” she said to Hannah as they gathered up the finished paintings and hung them to dry in the last few minutes before the parents arrived. “Lea broke up with me and I kinda lost track of time.”

  Hannah clipped up the painting she was holding, then hugged Mel gently. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

  “She thinks I’m being unreasonable about Clara. She said she can’t handle it. It’s fine. I can be mature about it.”

  Hannah snorted. “Sorry,” she said. “I mean, I do believe you. But I also believe that nobody ever really knows how to be completely mature about a breakup. And I’m sorry that you’ve lost so much in such a short time.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  ❦

  The sun shone brightly through the window onto Mel’s desk, and she leaned forward to feel the warmth.

  “Mel? Do you have an answer?” Mrs. Irwin asked.

  “Oh, uh.” She looked down at her paper. “Two pi?”

  “Correct.” The teacher cast a worried glance at Mel but continued the lesson without saying anything about it. When class was over, however, she called Mel to the front for the second time in as many weeks.

  “Is there a problem, ma’am?” Mel asked as she stood in front of Mrs. Irwin.

  “That’s what I wanted to ask you. I know you got the answer when I called on you—and before you ask, yes, I was testing because I thought you weren’t paying attention—but I’m worried about your class participation.”