by C. M. Murphy
Alma could see the square white tiles, and a woman's feet. She squatted down to get a better look. It was her mother.
"Mom?" she said. Her mother turned, but looked in the direction of the door. That's when Alma heard another voice calling out, "Bernie!" in the distance. The voice sounded like Tita Win Win!
"Be right there!" Alma's mom called out, but Alma wasn't ready for her mother to go. As her mother turned away from the mirror and opened the bathroom door to leave, Alma cried out.
"Mom! Wait!" she said as she scrambled closer, her right hand slipping halfway into the hole in the wall and into the dream room.
White spots flooded Alma's vision. The sensation of falling she'd experienced when she'd shook hands with Cassidy returned, but with greater intensity. Wind rushed around Alma's ears. Blinded and afraid, she tried to scream , but she couldn't speak, see, or hear.
A clawing, claustrophobic panic gripped Alma.
Darkness.
She found herself with one hand on the bathroom sink and the other hand on her forehead. The coolness of the porcelain under her left hand, and the warmth of her own hand on her forehead reassured her.
She'd opened her eyes and looked around the bathroom. Everything normal. Same yellow shower curtain liner, avocado tub, and white tiles as always. She'd been in the middle of something. Her date! She had to get ready.
She looked into the mirror and smoothed the errant hairs of her flip hairdo. More hairspray. She reached into the mirrored cabinet and grabbed the Aqua Net. She gave her entire head a fresh coat of spray, careful to place her hand over her eyes when she did the front.
Win Win yelled, her voice sounding so much farther away than the kitchen, "Are you in there?"
"Yes!" she yelled putting on her lipstick. The jingling sound of keys distracted her. Bernadette turned to see where the noise was coming from, but nothing was there. The bathroom door to her and Win Win's house was still open. No one was in the hall.
A hand shook her shoulder, and another hand was on her face. Something hot spilled on her hand. "Alma!" Win Win yelled. Bernadette paused. That name sounded familiar.
She blinked and dropped the cup of coffee on the floor of her studio apartment. "Ow!" she cried as the hot coffee splashed onto her foot. The burn on her hand and foot grounded her to this time and place. But she had been somewhere else. She'd been someone else. And it felt as real as right now.
"Alma why aren't you talking to me?" Tita Win Win asked as she patted the floor with paper towels. "Are you okay?"
Disoriented, Alma stood silent. A moment ago, she would've sworn her name was Bernadette who shared a small, rented house with her sister, Win Win.
Confusion clenched Alma's mind and threatened her sanity. Win Win was older than the part of Alma's brain that thought of her as a sister, but she was the right age that the other portion of her mind thought of her as her aunt.
Her mind tried to settle on one reality—the one where she was Alma Davis. More of her memories were of being Alma Davis.
But was a person made up of memories? Weren't dreams something remembered but not real?
Alma's chest heaved, and her hands and face fell numb as her mind cycloned into existential territory.
"Alma! You're shaking!" Tita Win Win cried out as she wrapped her arms around her. "Are you cold? Are you scared? Why won't you talk?"
"I'm sorry, Tita," was all Alma could manage for the moment, her voice both familiar and alien. Win Win's petite body comforted Alma. Her aunt was a small-built woman who was only five feet tall, but her aunt's strength made her seem bigger than her size.
Win's embrace grounded her and brought her back to her apartment over the garage, to her own memories, to her identity. A question struck Alma.
"Tita Win Win, did you share a house with my mom?"
Win nodded.
"Did the bathroom have an avocado-green tub?"
Win Win hugged her harder and then stepped back and asked, "Is your hand burned?"
Alma looked down at it. Her hand was red, but it wasn't too bad. "I think it's okay."
Win threw away the paper towels she'd left on the counter from cleaning up the coffee and then took Alma's hand and ran it under some cold water in the sink. Alma knew Tita Win Win would speak when she was ready.
"You may experience some things that are a bit unusual, because of your Filipino side of the family."
"Do we have a history of insanity?" Alma asked.
"Let's say a history of unusual traits and gifts."
"Like what?"
"Psychic powers, healing powers, and other sort of witchcraft-type stuff," her aunt said.
Alma looked at her aunt in disbelief. Tita Win had told her about life in the Philippines and Alma's ancestors on the island of Siquijor, but Alma didn't believe in superstitions. Win didn't push the matter.
"Did you go to work today?" Win Win asked.
"Yeah," Alma said.
"Doug left a note on your door this morning, and it looks like your car hasn't moved since I left for work."
It dawned on Alma that Win was still in her white doctor's coat. "What time is it?"
"Half past five."
Alma dashed to the window and looked out of it. It was light out. Alma turned back to her aunt. "What day is it?"
"Friday."
Alma's mind reeled. She'd lost a day. She'd missed work.
Chapter Five
Haniel forced himself to sound civil. He'd called twice yesterday and four times today. Each time he called he got the same ad-taker, Yolanda. The ad lines would close soon, and his father was getting restless.
"Yolanda," Haniel said attempting to sound charming, "Can you connect me to Alma please?"
"I can take your ad," she said.
"I don't have an ad, I just needed to talk to her for a second," he said, disappointed that his desperation had invaded the sound of his voice.
"Are you the person who keeps calling and hanging up?"
"It's kind of an emergency," Haniel said, knowing he sounded even more desperate.
"She's out sick today," Yolanda said and disconnected the call.
Haniel slammed the phone onto its cradle. He doubted Alma was sick at all.
"I take it she wasn't there," his father said.
Haniel's head shot up from the phone to his father's disapproving gaze. He hadn't even realized his old man had entered the room.
"She's out sick today," Haniel said, his voice tight with fear. He could see the repressed anger swirling beneath his father's way-too-still body.
"That's if she ever even goes back to that job," his father said. "She could have been spooked by that IM woman. You should have rushed that woman out of the shop!"
"But I thought Professor Cassidy was part of your vision," Haniel said.
"Not here. At that damn bookshop," his father snapped, a flash of anger contorting his face.
Haniel's heart exploded with fear. He hadn't seen that type of anger since—
The memory of his mother's death sparked fear and rage. Haniel fought to tamp down his emotions. His father was dangerous when he was angry.
"Are you going to be of use to me with The Plan or not?" his father asked, his voice icy.
Haniel swallowed hard. His own anger must've shown, and his father wasn't at all pleased with him. Haniel's mind didn't even want to imagine what might happen if his rage-filled father believed Haniel would be of no use to him.
"I'll find her," Haniel pleaded. The two stared at each other. Haniel could feel the heat of his father's temper from across the room. "I can do it. You envisioned it."
"The Cassidy woman is going to the bookstore tomorrow," his father said tossing an opened copy of the LA Weekly next to the phone. "You'll be there early."
"Do you think she'll be there?" Haniel asked.
His father turned and left the room without another word.
Alma stared at her computer screen in between calls. Saturday afternoons were slow at Valley Classified,
which she usually liked, but not today. She would have rather kept busy.
After talking with Tita Win Win last night, she'd gone to bed and had nightmare after nightmare. She'd wake up terrified and sweating, but with no recollection of what had frightened her. This morning, the sense of dread she'd experienced over the last month had grown. An image lingered in her mind of being lost in a violet fog trying to escape. She shuddered.
"Are you okay?" Doug asked.
Alma turned to her best friend. "Sure," she said, but his expression let her know he didn't believe her.
Alma worried she had schizophrenia or some other mental illness. Maybe Tita Win could arrange for some kind of brain scan.
"I knew I shouldn't have left you after you passed out at that store."
"It was nothing," Alma said.
Calls rang through to each of their stations and cut off any further conversation. Alma finished taking an ad for free kittens, and Rick called her.
"Yes?" Alma said, masking her irritation as she turned toward her boss's desk.
"Your doctor's on the phone. Log off so I can transfer the call." His voice was quieter than normal, and his expression lacked its usual arrogance.
"Thank you," Alma said, surprised by both the call and Rick's almost-human disposition.
"This is Alma," she said when the call beeped in.
"It's your auntie and doctor," Tita Win Win said with a laugh. "I told your boss I had urgent test results for you. Must be very urgent for a doctor to call on a Saturday. I sounded very serious when I said it to him."
Alma forced herself not to smile and just answered yes. She could see her boss's concerned face out of the corner of her eye.
"Listen, there's someone who might be able to help you," Win continued. "She's going to be at the Third Eye Bookstore tonight." Her aunt gave her the address. "I think you should come. I'll meet you."
"Is that what you would advise?" Alma asked, keeping her voice neutral as if she were talking to her doctor.
"When your mother and I came to America, we decided to forget all things from our Filipino side. It worked for me, but," Tita Win Win paused, "Bernie, I mean your mom..." Win's voice cracked and she stopped.
Alma filled in the blanks. She lowered her voice so no one could overhear. "Did that stuff you mentioned have something to do with her death? I thought she died in childbirth."
"Your mom was truly gifted, very powerful. Maybe too much to ignore. Like our mother. It may be the same for you. I don't know. I always tried to ignore these things, but..." She stopped again. "This lady knew your mom. She might have some answers for you. Seeing the announcement in the paper can't be a coincidence. Just think about it, okay?"
"How much time do I have?" Alma asked, forgetting to keep her voice low.
"It starts at seven."
"I'm working until eight tonight."
"Tell your boss you have to get an important test. Urgent. I'll write you another note like I did for you missing work yesterday."
Alma was sure that there was an ethical line her aunt was crossing with the medical notes, but if Win didn't mind, Alma figured she shouldn't either. "Do you think maybe we can get a brain scan for me?"
Win laughed. "You don't need a real scan for the note. I can write it without the scan. Those are expensive." Win said she'd be there in case Alma decided to go. They said their goodbyes and Alma hung up and stared at the wall of her cubicle, overwhelmed.
"Why don't you log off and take your break early?" Rick suggested.
Alma turned around to see him at his desk. His concerned expression made him look like a regular guy. This change in Rick combined with the flood of new information about all this psychic stuff freaked Alma out all the more. All she could think to do was say, "Thanks," and logged off for her break.
Doug grabbed her arm. "What's going on?" he whispered.
"I'm just going to take my break," Alma said.
"Rick, can I take my break now, too?" Doug asked.
"Uh," Rick looked to Alma and then back to Doug. "Yeah that's probably a good idea."
Alma rushed off the floor and Doug followed her.
"Rick's being so nice, it's freaking me out," Alma whispered to her best friend.
"You're freaking me out! What the hell is going on?"
"I don't know."
"Are you really sick? Are you dying?"
"I'm not dying, Doug."
Doug exhaled with relief. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better, right? I heard you say something about death on the phone."
"No. I'm not even sick. That was Tita Win on the phone."
Doug took a seat in one of their reclining chairs. "Tell me everything, or I will kill you."
"I have to decide if I want to go to this thing at some weird bookstore tonight," Alma started. She didn't know how to continue. Doug was her best friend, and she didn't want him to think she was crazy.
"Does this have something to do with when you passed out the other day?"
Alma nodded yes.
"But it has nothing to do with your health?"
"I'm fine."
"You look different. You look paler than normal. Worried. You're not talking to me anymore. Is this about your dad's death? You never talk about it."
"Do you believe in psychics?" Alma asked.
"Of course," he said.
Alma turned to him with a shocked expression. "Just like that. You believe in psychics."
"Oh yeah. I believe in all that kind of stuff," Doug said. "Don't you?"
"What if I told you my mom was psychic?"
Doug smiled. "I would say that's awesome. That would mean you might be psychic. Are you psychic? Tell me what I'm thinking right now."
"I don't think it works that way," Alma said.
"But you have an idea how it works, because you're psychic!" Doug said with glee.
"Keep your voice down."
"What's this thing you have to go to? Can I come?"
"It's tonight at The Third Eye Bookstore."
"I know that place. I'm coming."
"We have to work."
"Rick thinks you're sick. So you have to do this test—"
"That's what Tita Win said."
"And I have to drive you!" Doug said miming clapping his hands so no one could hear his excitement. "I knew you were special. The way you took to knowing antiques and all that. So totally a sign."
"How do you know that?" Alma said.
Doug paused for a moment with an odd look on his face that Alma couldn't recognize. "I read it in one of those Time-Life Mysteries of the Unknown books."
"You're full of it."
Doug changed the topic. "I'll tell Rick we have to go."
"I haven't decided if I'm going," Alma said.
"Then we'll decide at lunch. At least take the free day off," Doug said.
"I don't feel good about this."
"You'll have to stop me, which we know you won't," Doug said as he left to tell Rick about Alma's urgent brain scan. He invented the brain scan part himself. He spoke in hushed tones, and Rick agreed to let them use their sick time for the day off, a bonus that Doug hadn't expected.
Yolanda was happy to get three hours overtime and all the ads.
When he returned to the breakroom to say they were free to go, Alma couldn't think of anything to say and followed Doug to the parking lot.
"Where to?" Doug asked Alma when they got in the car.
Alma wanted to establish some kind of normalcy, so she chose the most ordinary place she could think of to kill time. "The mall."
Doug exited the parking lot of The Galleria and headed for Ventura Boulevard. It had been a relaxing afternoon of window shopping and lunch.
"How big of a natural disaster does it have to be to get better prices?" Doug said, breaking the silence in the car.
Alma laughed. "That's so wrong."
She hadn't visited the mall since the earthquake earlier in the year, but she knew her best friend didn't mean
to make light of it. He just liked to shock her.
They drove in comfortable silence to the Third Eye Bookstore. It wasn't far from the mall. Alma had doubted that whoever it was would be able to explain what was going on, but it might be worth going to talk to someone who had known her mother. Alma needed to know if any of what she'd dreamed was based in reality. Tita Win had confirmed that she and her mom had lived together, but that wasn't enough proof.
Alma's thoughts wandered to her father's things in the garage. Alma had told her aunt to throw it all away, but Win had decided to hang onto it for "just in case." Maybe he had kept old photos or some of her mom's things.
Alma sighed. Nothing made sense. She glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. There was still time to change her mind. She couldn't put her finger on what she was worried about, but her insides trembled.
Her thoughts turned to the watch. She'd given it to Tita Win Win last night for safekeeping. Alma didn't trust herself with it. Her newfound treasure frightened and fascinated her.
"There's your aunt," Doug said, pointing to Win Win waiting on the sidewalk. "I'll drop you off out front and park."
"Thanks," Alma said, smiling at her best friend. He'd taken all this weirdness in stride. He was a true friend.
"No problem," he said as he made a U-turn to pull up in front of the Third Eye Bookstore. "Maybe I'll get a psychic reading since you won't give me one."
"I told you I crawled into a crack in the wall and ended up in a bathroom as my mom. That's not being psychic, it's being psychotic."
"It was a vision," Doug called to her as she got out of the car. "I've heard they can be very realistic."
Alma rolled her eyes. Tita Win Win had said the same thing. But Alma didn't think it was a vision. Alma felt like she'd been there as her mother. Even her memories of those few minutes felt like her real memories.
"You came!" Tita Win Win said as if Alma had decided to come to a high school dance.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Alma said.
"Neither am I," her aunt said in her customary bright tone. Then, as if she hadn't said anything confusing, she asked, "Is your gay friend coming?"
