Salem's Sight

by Eden Elgabri

  “So we wouldn’t have to drive by the spot Dad was killed every day. Because she thought I couldn’t handle it.” The pitch of my voice rose with each word like the sound of a teakettle when it’s close to a boil.

  “How was she handling it?”

  “My mother?” I hadn’t thought about that. Maybe it was more than just to protect me. Maybe she couldn’t deal with it either.

  I frowned. He got me to admit it to myself. I hadn’t been handling it. It ripped my heart out every time we drove past that intersection and it wouldn’t have mattered if we just moved to the next town.

  We needed a fresh start, both of us.

  “You’re doing a lot of thinking there.”

  I nodded and accepted the inevitable. “So I come see you once a week and complain about whatever. So how long do we continue?”

  His voice was smooth and even, no sign of emotion. “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “How much complaining you do.” The deadpan way he spoke added humor to even the dullest things and I wondered how much like his father Robby was. Robby, oh crap.

  “Please don’t say anything to Robby.”

  “Doctor-patient privilege, remember?”

  Of course he wouldn’t say anything. There was actually some sort of an oath or something. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Let’s see, scoping on your son, assuming since he was here he had to be a lunatic, insulting your ability, and anything else I might have done to offend you.”

  “None taken.” He rose and I took that as my cue to go. “So same time next week?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  He reached across his rather large desk to shake my hand when I noticed there were two picture frames on his desk facing him. Even with a bend and reach I couldn’t see the pictures that had to be of Robby and Doctor Martin’s late wife. I know it was morbid curiosity, but I wanted to see what she looked like.

  ****

  “Do you think Skye is a good name for her?” I asked my mother as I held up the kitten.

  “We still don’t know if it’s a her,” my mother said willing the kitten into the male gender.

  “If it’s a boy, we could call him Sir Shitzalot,” I giggled noting the fresh piles in the litter box.

  “Salem,” the clipped tone of my mother’s voice displayed her disapproval. “Language.”

  “That’s not bad, and it’s so true. In one twenty-four hour period this little beast has produced it’s own size in crap.”

  Mom handed me the pooper-scooper and smiled, “You’re the one who wanted the pet.”

  “I’m not complaining,” I reassured her. “Just … amazed. Can we ask the vet if it’s normal to poop this much? I mean, what if something’s wrong?”

  A quick trip to the pound and we were given a clean bill of health. It also deflated any hopes of having my own set of kittens. My baby was a boy. Somehow Skye no longer seemed appropriate even though it was the color of his eyes.

  “Call him Skyler,” Mom said. “That’s a more masculine version of the name.”

  “Okay little Skyler, you’ll have to deal with a sissy name.” He meowed as if he understood and Mom and I both started laughing.

  “I’ve got to admit, he’s adorable.”

  “You’re just glad he’s a boy,” I said as I picked him up and snuggled him to my face. Immediately he started purring loudly.

  “We’re going to do homework,” I said as I walked toward the stairs.

  “Let me know if he can find the answers,” my mother yelled after me.

  At first Skyler was content with me holding him, but then he stretched out, hopped off my lap, and curled up next to my feet while I studied.

  His gentle purring suddenly stopped, replaced by a loud “Errrnw.” I looked down to see his ears pinned back as his wide eyes scanned the room. In one swift movement he stood and began to circle a spot on the bed, like a child playing musical chairs. Mid-stride he stopped and slowly tipped his little head toward heaven.

  He stood motionless like a little stuffed toy.

  I looked at the ceiling. Nothing was there.

  “Come on, Skyler. Don’t freak me out.”

  He didn’t move.

  “Hey,” Berkley called as she entered the room while I almost jumped out of my skin. “I couldn’t wait to see your cat.”

  “Kitten, and he’s a bit preoccupied.”

  “He’s so cute, oh he’s beautiful,” Berkley sing-songed. Then she stopped short and looked up. “What’s he looking at?”

  We both stared at the same spot, but the human eyes couldn’t make out what the cat eyes obviously saw. “I can’t see anything, but he hasn’t moved.”

  “Cats, oh wow, Salem, Cats. Don’t you get it? Cats are supposed to be guides to the spirit world.”

  Okay, she might have had the highest GPA in the junior class, but I had to wonder why I was the one seeing a shrink.

  Without so much as a twitch from his eyes, Skyler meowed. If he was talking to Grandma, I still wasn’t privy to the conversation.

  ****

  That night I had the dream again, the one where I was inside a giant flame. I wondered what Dr. Martin would think about it, but wasn’t sure if I should discuss it with him or not.

  Luckily for me, Skyler was there. I didn’t have time to thrash about. See, he had a thing about quick movements. Evidently under the covers my feet masqueraded as toys or prey. Either way he pounced and woke me up with a few playful bites.

  CHAPTER six

  Whoever invented homework should die a slow and painful death. Like the school day isn’t long enough. I mean, at least adults get to relax after work. That’s what Mom was doing as I chipped away at my homework. She sat on the other end of the couch watching the news intently, pausing occasionally when I needed some help.

  The television droned on in the background, not distracting me in the slightest. For me, the news wasn’t exactly television. It was boring to the extreme, even more than homework.

  Skyler sat up straight and meowed at the set. I was going to laugh and point out that he didn’t enjoy the news any more than I did, when I looked up and a chill settled over my body.

  Suddenly the blah, blah, blah turned into words – loud, clear, and exacting. That isn’t what gave me goose bumps though.

  For a second I was sucked into the giant flame displayed on the screen. A massive burning fire, no longer a part of my nightmares. But instead now a major part of someone else’s.

  Only now it was for real. The blaze was real. My fire hadn’t been imagined. It certainly hadn’t been representative in any way of the car accident I’d been in. My flame burning out of control was on the TV.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up like a cat in attack mode and goose bumps marred the flesh on my arms. Somehow the fire that was being pictured now had been in my mind before it happened.

  Impossible.

  “Mom?”

  “What honey?” she asked without turning toward me, her eyes still riveted to the destruction she was witnessing.

  “See the fire on TV?” Much to my amazement, my voice sounded much more calm than I actually was.

  “Yeah,” she said only half paying attention.

  “That’s the one that was in my dreams.”

  It took a second or so before my mother caught on that I meant it was the same fire and when she did she tried to dismiss it. “It was a fire like that?” She turned and looked directly at me.

  “Um, no Mom. It was that exact one.” I nodded frantically in the affirmative hoping she’d believe rather than question. No such luck.

  “Oh come on Salem, what are you trying to say?” she asked frustration laboring in her tone.

  “I saw it before it happened. Call me weird, but it’s true.” Okay, so I was saying the words in a calm and collected manner, but that was probably shock because inside I was shaking. Seriously shaking.

  “Don’t be silly, honey
. One flame pretty much looks like the next.”

  The heat intensified and I could feel the burning of flesh. Not pain exactly. I wasn’t in pain. I was detached from it, yet knew what it was like on some de-magnified level. I focused on the television, but was at the site at the same time.

  “There’s a person in that flame. The authorities may not know he’s there yet. And it’s a he, I’m almost certain.” That detached voice wasn’t coming from the me that was trembling inside. It was coming from somewhere else, like I was split in half or in two places at once.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I saw the fire before it happened and I know there’s a person inside burning to death. I know it because I experienced it the other night. I can even feel it now.” I shook my head and tried to let the feelings in. But it was too late. The man was gone.

  My heart raced with debilitating fear. I shouldn’t know this. There’s no way to truly know this. Yet I did.

  “He’s already dead. I guess there’s no reason to call the police. I’m not sure what I would have said, still, I would’ve called. But he’s dead so there’s no point. They’ll find him.” I knew that too. “It’ll be on the news tomorrow.”

  The more I knew for certain that it was real the more frightened I became. My stomach tightened and I felt chilled to the bone. What was happening to me and how could I make it stop?

  My mother just stared at me as if I just went over the edge. Or at least that’s what I thought. Looking back she must have been thinking of my grandmother and how she had claimed to have the same ability.

  ****

  My mother’s birthday was coming up and this was going to be a tough one. See, Dad always bought her just the right gift. He somehow always found something that was the perfect fit. And of course, often expensive.

  Dad was the bling king. The jewelry store in the center of my old town used to send him a Christmas card and a calendar every year. Dad always made sure his ‘girls’ sparkled. Mom’s anniversary band had enough sparkle to rescue lost ships at sea. And I was the mini-bling. I had enough fourteen carat gold at fifteen to rival an Egyptian Pharaoh.

  For Mom, this birthday would be blingless. And it’s not so much the expensive present as the thought of someone thinking you’re special enough to buy it.

  This birthday would be the first one without someone who would spoil her. No parents. No husband. And what could I get that would make up for the wonderful gift she wouldn’t be getting from Dad?

  Nada.

  But I had to try. I checked the yellow pages and luckily there was an antique store within walking distance. I figured it would be easier finding something different in a place like that than in the local mall.

  My biggest surprise occurred as I walked through the opened door. Robby stood on a ladder with a dust cloth making china plates presentable. His butt wiggled slightly as he cleaned and I could have watched the show for an indefinite amount of time. Unfortunately, an elderly woman with salt and pepper hair caught me. She closed the door and when she did the bell at the top jingled causing Robby to turn.

  He must have been as surprised to see me, as I was to see him, because he lilted forward and momentarily lost his balance.

  The elderly woman gasped and clutched her chest with her hand. “Robby, darling, be careful. You gave me a fright.”

  “Sorry, I will,” he said to her as he smiled at me.

  “The gentleman from the garage called. Said to tell you he’d definitely have that part in before the dance.”

  “Thanks, Gram.”

  She glanced over at me and then back up to Robby. “Do you have everything here under control?”

  Robby looked down at me and smiled. “Yeah. No problem.”

  “Good. Now I’ll go back to making my Stroganoff and leave the young lady to you.” She turned, winked at me and walked out.

  Great, just great. First, I tell his dad his son is a hottie and now Grandma catches me red handed, and red faced I might add, checking out his butt! That’s what gave me a fright.

  A fright. Cool old lady word. I like the vocabulary that elderly people have. Not like parent’s slang that just sounds dorky and stupid. The generation before them used words that have slipped away from modern language. That’s what makes it cool.

  “You wouldn’t happen to be stalking me, are you?” he asked when she was out of earshot.

  My jaw dropped open and I stood unintelligently catching flies. Not even able to utter a sound.

  “I’m kidding.” He descended the ladder and stood in front of me. “Do you like antiques? We’ve got some great stuff here.”

  I nodded and wondered if that applied to his grandmother, she certainly looked old enough to be considered an antique. But I was just being nasty because I’d been caught … well, being nasty.

  To be honest she was really pleasant looking and didn’t look as old as Mrs. Taunton, although I guess they were around the same age. And the cool thing about Robby’s grandmother was she even had an inch or two on me and I’m not exactly short.

  I wouldn’t feel big and gawky next to her the way I did with my own grandmother. That would be my father’s mother, Queen Bee, who was petite and would always say to my mother, “I hope she doesn’t grow too tall.” My mother would grumble under her breath, “I hope she’s as big as an Amazon.” Unfortunately, just hearing it always made me slouch in front of my grandmother. I gazed up at Robby; there’d be no reason to slouch if I were with him.

  I glanced around the store hoping something would jump out at me. “Um, I’m looking for a present for my mom. I’m not really sure what I want. Just something different.”

  He pointed out hand painted china dishes and figurines and then some hand blown glass items. Then I saw it. Cinderella’s glass slipper sparkling in the light from the window.

  When I was little we used to watch the video practically every day right before Dad came home from work. I always called it ‘Mommy and me’ time. I remember she bought me clear plastic shoes from a toy store that came with a crown and every day I’d leave one shoe on the steps for Dad to find when he came home. He’d make like he was the prince and would search the house until he found me.

  I wanted that glass slipper. It’d be a gift with meaning. But it had to be fine crystal and I was sure I’d never be able to afford it. I knew that because unlike many of the items in the store, it was behind glass.

  “Which piece are you looking at?” Robby asked playing the part of salesman.

  I stepped closer and put my finger on the glass and pointed to the slipper. “This one.”

  He grabbed a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the display case. The slipper sparkled more out of the case and as he handed it to me our hands touched briefly. My hand tingled and my belly started doing flips.

  I turned the crystal over to see if there was a price tag but there wasn’t. “It’s pretty expensive, huh?” More than anything I hoped I was wrong.

  He started to check the spot where the slipper had been then stopped. “I can get it for cost if you’d consider doing me a favor.”

  I stood like a mannequin trying to imagine what kind of a favor I could do for him.

  “I paint,” he said when I made no effort to respond. “The first time I saw you I wanted to capture your face.”

  And I had imagined him running from fear. “Wow, an artist.” I hated myself for getting tongue-tied around him, but my IQ only lowered when he showed interest.

  “I have a small studio at my house or I could bring my stuff to your house if it’d make you more comfortable.” He smiled and I decided to be his model even if I couldn’t get the gift at cost.

  “I still don’t know if I’d have enough for the slipper. I only have fifty bucks.”

  He looked at the tag in the case and winced. I knew I didn’t have enough. “Fifty dollars it is.”

  “What’s fifty dollars?” an older gentleman asked. It wasn’t difficult to guess who this was. In
spite of the fact his hair was stark white, the face was an older version of Doctor Martin. And like his son and his grandson, he stood over six feet tall. They certainly grew them big in this family.

  I stood up straight and held up the slipper, then frowned when it looked like the poor man was going to collapse. He raised his eyebrows and Robby seemed uneasy.

  “She’s a friend of mine, Grandpa. I’m… ah… letting her pay cost and she’s agreed to sit for me. I’d have to pay a model so I figure it’d equal out.”

  I could tell by Grandpa’s expression that the cost of the slipper was more than fifty and there’d be some money coming out of Robby’s pocket. Then his grandfather looked at me and his eyes twinkled and he smiled.

  “Smart boy. This is one painting I can’t wait to see.” He clapped Robby on the back in spite of what must have been a stupid sale. “Now make an old man happy and wear the color peach when he paints you. It’ll be perfect for your complexion,” he said to me.

  “I really shouldn’t take this if it’s more than fifty.”

  “No,” both Robby and his grandfather echoed together. A bit odd but I wasn’t about to complain. So I managed to snag the gift and time with Robby. Talk about a win-win situation.

  Anyway, I was thrilled with my acquisition and his explanation for looking at me so weird that first day. I mean really, who wouldn’t want to be selected by an artist as the perfect model?

  Then of course, he mentioned the ‘D’ word. That would be dance. I mean, it’s not like he asked me out or anything. He didn’t even ask me to go with him. He just asked if I was planning on going.

  I acted like I hadn’t even heard anything about it, you know, being new and all. Then I felt brainless because I’d have to be blind not to know about the dance. Every hallway was littered with flyers, posters adorned the walls, and banners flew over every entrance announcing the first dance of the season. I blushed. He’d either think I was dim witted or a big fat liar.

  He let it slip casually into the conversation that he was going to ‘stop by’ and I should ‘check it out.’ Now for all I knew he could be stopping by with his girlfriend and might have told me to check it out for any of a million reasons, but I hoped it was because he wanted to hang out and get to know me there.