Hugo & Rose

by Bridget Foley

  He heard her voice, quietly singing on Penny’s monitor.

  “See the pyramids along the Nile, Watch the sunrise from a tropic isle, Just remember, darling, all the while…”

  Penny’s garbled voice joined her mother’s: “You belong to me…” Though as Pen sang it, it sounded like “You be-wong to me.”

  His sweet, sweet Rose.

  She smiled when she saw him standing by the monitors in the kitchen.

  “She’s having trouble settling. Too much fun before bedtime.”

  “You’re amazing.” He pulled her into a kiss.

  Rose let his kiss wash over her. He could tell she wasn’t thinking about the dishes as he did it or the chores that needed to be done. She was just there, with him, leaning into his body.

  When they pulled apart, she gave him a sleepy smile.

  “Today was a good day” was all she said.

  * * *

  They were in the Plank Orb.

  Pale filtered sunlight streamed in through the portholes, setting a watery glow in the small cabin. The air was humid, warm, and close. The wood of the vessel moaned and creaked, under pressure.

  Rose’s hands were on the length of chain. She was pulling it toward her, threading the bead of the Orb.

  “Do you know where we’re going?”

  She looked up at Hugo. He leaned against the wall, his arms casual on his knees. He was relaxed. Restful.

  Rose gave the chain one last yank. “No. But I know we’re almost there.”

  She sat back opposite him. This was what they always did in the Orb, sat across from each other and talked, passed the time while they waited to get wherever they were going.

  “Something’s different.”

  He was right. Something was different. “I feel it, too.”

  Rose noticed a particular whorl in the wood behind Hugo’s head. A distinctive eye made by the pattern of the grain.

  It had been in the comic book Hugo had drawn.

  Had he remembered the details of their dreams that specifically? So well that he could duplicate the very configuration of the whorls of the wood in his drawing?

  Or were their dreaming minds creating that distinct pattern there because they had seen it drawn in the comic book?

  Rose didn’t remember noticing it before.

  But then again, she didn’t remember not noticing it.

  It was this strange overlay of awareness that Rose had never had before. Hugo was real.… And though he was sitting right across from her right now, bobbing along under the water, he was also somewhere else. Asleep.

  He laughed. “I keep picturing you in your pajamas.”

  “Me too!”

  “Well, at least I’m not wearing them.” He nodded at her.

  Rose looked down. She was indeed wearing pajamas. Whereas she usually wore a skirt and blouse while she was on the island, she was now in an oddly frilly nightgown. It was a light blue color, sleeveless, with a ruffled bib and buttons on its chest. It had that slick acetate sheen to it … the kind she remembered from the sleepwear of her childhood.

  “Trust me, I do not have a nightgown like this.”

  Hugo looked at it a little closer. “I think my mom did.”

  Rose raised her eyebrows at him. Really?

  Hugo rolled his eyes and shrugged as the bottom of the Orb thumped up against the sandy floor of the somewhere they were going. There was a shush-shushing as it dragged to a stop.

  “Wanna see where we are?”

  Rose crouched under the porthole, turning its brass wheel.

  She opened it into the emerald world of the Lagoon.

  The Orb had banked against a shallow spot in the calm cerulean pool. Fiddleheads blanketed the shore with their soft spray of leaves. Overhead, the branches of the trees meshed into a lacy canopy, with clumps of gray-green moss hanging from them. The roots of these trees were massive, defining the edges of the pool with their twisting reach.

  In a few hours, Rose knew there would be fireflies here, hovering over the ground, lighting up over the water. When they did that, the Lagoon felt like a field of dizzy shifting stars.

  Rose lowered herself down the side of the Orb. The water was warm, lapping at her ankles as Hugo emerged.

  Rose looked back at him. “Did I tell you that Adam asked me if the Lagoon looked like Dagobah?”

  “Where Yoda lives?” Hugo hefted himself over the lip of the porthole.

  “I told him it was prettier. Greener.”

  Rose waded to the shore and sat on one of the roots. The reflection of the trees in the water rippled as Hugo jumped down.

  “You’ve never talked about your family before … here, I mean.”

  “I’ve also never worn your mom’s pajamas before and yet … here we are.” Rose smiled at him.

  But he was right.

  That was what had changed. This was the first time that either of them had acknowledged that there was a world beyond the island. A world with sons and mothers and the films of George Lucas.

  It was a strange feeling.

  A wind raced across the water. The trees shivered.

  Hugo and Rose spotted it at the same time.

  Deep in the wood, obscured by branches, stood the dark figure of a man. Watching them.

  Rose gasped, uncertain for a moment that she was seeing what she was seeing. It must be a Buck, away from the herd. Or the clumping of shadows in the forest, tricking her eyes.

  But then the figure turned and Rose’s eyes confirmed it. Without a doubt it was a man, no mistaking it now that she could make out his arms and legs … legs that were running, carrying him away from Hugo and Rose. Fleeing.

  “We can’t lose him!” Hugo was already moving, his arms wrapping around the trunk of the closest tree. His feet found their purchase and he was climbing, impossibly fast, up into the canopy.

  Rose pulled her feet under her, toes landing on the rough skin of the tree root. If Hugo was going to travel the trees, she would keep to the ground … closer to the figure. She leaped from the root, her front leg landing on the next span, some six feet away.

  Above her the branches bent down with the weight of Hugo upon them … he alighted on the edge of the topmost limbs before throwing himself toward the next tree.

  Rose bounded from root to root, leaping over the hollows between the trees, her hair streaming behind her. Ahead the figure swerved, trying to lose them.

  A cracking sounded from above.

  “I can’t see him!”

  “Go left!” Rose was closing the distance between this dark man and herself. Growing closer as the trees began to thin out … the width between their roots growing longer.

  Rose’s mind was racing with the implications. Someone else! Someone else on the island! Where had he come from? Why was he running? Was he leading them to somewhere? Or something? Had he been there all along as well, only to just discover them now?

  In between the trees, Rose could see that the swamp was soon to give way to a familiar rise of grassy hills. Beyond those hills lay Castle City.

  A sharp pain suddenly pierced her foot, and then she was falling, tumbling into the space between the tree roots. She put her hands out to brace the impact, gravity driving her down toward the loam.

  The blow knocked the wind out of her. Rose pulled her head from the ground, her palms covered in forest debris. She blinked her eyes.

  She wasn’t alone.

  In the corner of her vision she sensed movement. It was close. Not five feet away. In the pit with her.

  Rose threw herself back against the tree root, ready to defend herself.

  Across the hollow, she did the same thing.

  A mirror.

  Rose’s reflection stared back at her from an antique gilt frame that leaned against a stack of old dining room chairs, their seats upholstered in threadbare silk. A battered steamer trunk sat next to them, its surface gray with dust, the leather of its straps deteriorated with age.

  Rose saw herself and l
eaned forward to get a closer look. What a strange place to store furniture. Who put it here?

  “Rosie!… Rosie!” Hugo’s voice was excited, not too distant.

  Rose turned from the strange jumble and climbed the tree root. “Did you get him?” She moved quickly to the forest’s edge.

  She sighted Hugo standing at the crest of the hill. He was alone.

  “He’s not important! Rosie, look!” He pointed at the horizon.

  Rose followed the line of his hand. In the distance Castle City loomed large. Closer than she had ever seen it before.

  And its shield was gone.

  ten

  Rose woke herself and Josh with her shouting.

  “We could get in!” she had said, her body sitting up, thrusting her mind from that world to this one.

  “Honey? Are you okay?”

  Rose turned to the dim form of her husband, eyes adjusting.

  A moment ago she had been on a hill, looking out on Castle City, it shining towers freed of their halo. Closer to their goal than they had ever been before.

  And now she was here in the dark with Josh.

  “Yes. Sorry. Go back to sleep.”

  * * *

  Rose stepped out of their bedroom into the hall. The house was dark, a night-light glow bleeding into the hallways from the children’s open doors. Rose made her way down the stairs without turning on the lights, her hand trailing against the wall for balance.

  She had tried to go back to sleep, but her mind was too full of the dream.

  What did it mean?

  There was someone else on the island. Another person.

  Rose couldn’t help wondering if the figure that they had seen wasn’t yet another dreamer. Someone like her and Hugo, some sleeping mind that had happened upon their playground.

  Or maybe whoever it was had escaped from Castle City.

  Rose felt her heart race at the memory of it. Without the halo of the shield blocking their view of the towers, you could make out their details. The unique features of their architecture, cupolas and spires, gargoyles, rounded windows. Their colors were clearer than ever before, reflective blues and greens and yellows.

  And just before she woke up, in the windows she had seen movement. Proof of life.

  Rose felt a chill under her robe.

  She poured herself a glass of milk, the refrigerator spilling light onto the wood floor. She closed the door, feeling the cool sweetness reach her belly.

  It was two o’clock. If she didn’t get back to sleep soon, tomorrow was going to be a disaster. She’d be short with the kids, resentful of Josh. She’d drink too much coffee to keep herself going and then have that afternoon crankiness that always followed too much caffeine and too little sleep.

  She felt a smile creep onto her lips. They could get in.

  A buzzing sounded somewhere in the kitchen. Rose found the edge of the counter, feeling her way to her phone plugged into the wall.

  A text from Hugo:

  I need to show you something.

  * * *

  Mrs. D couldn’t take Penny. She said she was feeling poorly and would be going to the doctor’s that afternoon.

  As Rose hung up, she had the uncharitable thought that Mrs. D was lying. That she was just making excuses because she didn’t like Penny or didn’t approve of the way she had behaved during her last visit.

  Well, thought Rose, if you give a toddler chocolate, she’s going to act like a holy terror.

  But still there was the issue of how she was going to see Hugo.

  She wanted to talk to him about the dream, to see the something he had promised, but with Penny to watch …

  Rose looked at her sweet girl. Pen had run after Adam and Isaac as they left for the bus.

  “Kiss! Kiss!” she had screamed, her pajama’d feet getting wet from the grass, the damp sneaking up onto her legs.

  Rose ran after her, but not before Adam doubled back, leaning down to let Pen plant an openmouthed smack on his lips. Isaac watched from the sidewalk, eyes rolling, arms crossed.

  “Kiss, Zackie!” she cried.

  Isaac looked at Rose. Do I have to?

  Rose shrugged, a benign smile. Do it for me.

  Zackie came over, kneeling for his sister’s ministrations. “Eww, she slobbered all over me.”

  But even though he made a big deal of wiping his face, Rose could tell as he climbed onto the bus that he was a good boy, a big boy, who loved his brother and sister. And his mother, too … though sometimes he did not let on.

  Little Boy. Littler Boy. Littlest Girl.

  Rose had dressed Penny while she waited for Mrs. D to return her call. Penny was beginning to give her opinion on the clothes Rose chose for her. The boys had never cared one shirt from the other. Finally Rose gave up and just let Penny choose. She tugged on the tights and skirt, figuring they would be Mrs. Delvecchio’s problem during potty time today.

  Then came the call. She couldn’t do it.

  But Rose wanted to talk to Hugo. To see his face as they talked about this new aspect of the dream.

  Penny sat on the floor, quietly pulling books from the shelf and looking through them. She ran her finger along the words and babbled, pretending to read.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad … maybe she could bring her.

  * * *

  “We get out now?” Penny was astonished when Rose opened the door.

  Of course she’s surprised, thought Rose. Every time we’ve been here before we’ve sat in the car for ages.

  But Hugo didn’t know that.

  Hugo had texted Rose the address of his home. Rose had felt a flush of shame at this. At Hugo’s ignorance. At her omission of the fact that she had been following him for weeks before she revealed herself. That she already knew where he lived, where he shopped, what he did with his days off.

  But what did it matter now?

  Now that they had found each other and could just tell each other the details of their lives—no reason to confess to her earlier sins.

  Rose held Penny on her hip as she made her way up the cracked concrete walkway. So strange to be walking on something she had studied for so long, like stepping through a bubble while keeping its structure intact.

  She rang the doorbell. Pen wiggled to be let down, her attention captured by a line of ants that marched from a crack in the stair.

  Hugo’s lips were spread in a broad smile when he opened the door … but it faltered upon seeing Rose with a toddler around her waist.

  “Oh.”

  “I hope it’s okay. I couldn’t get a babysitter.” Rose pushed her way past him into the house. Maybe if she rushed through this moment—Hugo’s disappointment that they wouldn’t be alone—it would have less impact. It would be a glancing blow to their time together rather than a fatal setback. A flesh wound.

  Rose corrected herself. Corrected her thinking.

  Penny was a fact of her life. She had children. A life outside of her dreams.

  Hugo would just have to deal with it.

  Rose swung the diaper bag onto the worn coffee-colored wall-to-wall, taking in the inside of Hugo’s home.

  In all her time watching him, she had never seen more than the shallow angle he revealed as he came out the door. Hugo was private, his shades permanently drawn. When she knew he was inside, she would imagine him moving about in the hidden world behind the shades. She wondered what the furniture looked like, the walls, the tile in the bathroom.

  She had gotten it right.

  It was clearly the home of a bachelor. Swiss coffee walls. Dusty baseboards. The couch was angled onto the TV, situated so that one could sprawl on it alone, legs extended, and surf the channels.

  The few pictures on the wall were stock prints, the kind that came with a frame, and all of them had the haphazard look of art hung as an afterthought. Rose recognized one of them, a cool-color still life with a jug, berried branches angling out from it. It had hung opposite the toilet in the powder room of her parents’ home f
or years and was thus subject to more reflective study than any of their “good” art in the more public areas of the house.

  “I had that same picture in my house growing up.”

  Hugo beamed, forgetting Penny for a moment. “You did?”

  He was clearly pleased with the concurrence. It was strange for Rose seeing it here, but also somehow comforting. A connection they had beyond the dreams, like having the same blood type or loving the same flavor of ice cream.

  Rose’s mother had declared the print “dated” and banished it to the attic. She wondered if she could get her to send it.

  Penny wriggled.

  “Will your cat be all right if I put Penny down?”

  Rose cringed. Inside for only ten seconds and she’d already made a mistake.

  How would I know he had a cat?

  Idiot. Liar. Fake.

  But it was already out there. She turned to Hugo, ready to see the questions in his eyes.

  But his eyes were locked back on Penny, straddled on Rose’s hip. Distracted.

  “Uh … she’s out … so…”

  Penny looked at Rose. “No kitty?”

  “No kitty, honey.” Rose set her daughter down and began pulling the toys she’d packed out of the diaper bag. Best to move on to the next subject, keep things moving. Ignore the toddler in the room.

  “I actually woke myself up. That’s how excited I was. Every night for decades that thing has been there, covering the city…” Rose felt Penny’s small hand creep up the back of her shirt, the air hitting the exposed skin above her waistband. The unsexy elastic of her stretched-out panties.

  Ugh.

  She pivoted, angling her exposed back away from sight. Keeping up the same frantic pace of conversation. “And then … it’s gone.… I honestly couldn’t believe it. And I would have waited until I could get someone to watch Penny. But I wanted to see you.…”

  Rose looked up at him. His eyes were still on Pen, watching her pick up the toy cell phone Rose had tossed onto the floor.

  “Hugo, we could finally get to the city.… Hugo?”

  It took him a moment to tear his eyes from her daughter, to swing them to Rose. “Uh. Sorry. Yes. We could.”

  And then his eyes were back on Penny as she squatted, awkward, next to Rose, reaching her rounded hands into the recesses of the diaper bag.