Open the door. The dream would end when she opened the door. None of this was real. The past couldn’t harm her, but the dream refused to end. All the windows in the back of the house blew out at once in a hail of glass that sent razor shards skittering over the floor.
The door opened. The wind carried the rain, snow, and icy hail sideways. Her dress caught on a crooked nail and tore at the seam. Sobbing, she clutched the tatters, but the dress unraveled in the wind. The front windows all burst out, spreading glass through the air in a glittering fan.
Running was her only defense, but no matter which way she ran, the bridge was always there. In the distance she could see the old skeleton of interlocked triangles and steel chains that formed a jagged mouth. Taillights transformed into red and hateful eyes. The metal twisted and bent, then snapped apart with a great twanging sound.
“Jennifer!”
Franklin’s voice cut through the roar. Great gasping sobs froze on her cheeks as the snow thickened around her ankles, and bloody footprints trailed behind. Her skin turned brittle from the cold. She didn’t want to wake up anymore. She might reach him.
The bridge contorted, and the overhead struts slammed down. Their little red Honda folded up under the beam. Franklin’s pale frozen hand reached out for her.
Jennifer leapt forward with both hands outstretched, but her fingers slipped through his without touching. She could feel the heat of his skin as the roar rattled her bones, and she was thrown backwards.
Waist deep snow sucked the warmth from her body and the glass shards sliced into her skin. She screamed. The bridge pulled back, leaving shattered footings like stumps of broken teeth. It all fell into the river, leaving nothing before her but empty air.
Eyes blurred with tears, she screamed and screamed and screamed. Frost coated frozen limbs. She pulled herself upright and felt her legs breaking, the flesh shattering and shearing. The bridge rose in a great metal hand with twisted, jagged fingers that reached for her.
Jennifer went down hard on her side, kicking her legs until she scrambled against the side of the bed. Chest heaving, pain shot up her leg from her ankle and the cuts on her arm throbbed. The reedy voice of her neighbor and landlady came through the wall in a muffled shout.
“Jennifer!” Mrs. Carmody slapped the wall with her bony fist. “Girl, you alright?”
Jennifer rose slowly to her feet, testing each step. She could still feel the glass cutting her skin and carving into her heels.
It’s just a dream.
Barely dressed, Jennifer answered the thumping on her front door to find the aged woman in a pale blue dressing gown and slippers standing there. She looked up at Jennifer with her sad eyes.
“Now, you come over to my side.”
“Mrs. Carmody--“
“Now.”
Jennifer sighed and walked over, locking her door behind her.
The little woman walked through a mirror image of Jennifer’s side of the house to the kitchen. Jennifer sat at the kitchen table, an old one with metal legs and a melamine top. Mrs. Carmody used a gripper stick to fetch a box of hot cocoa packets.
“You’re having cocoa,” she said, sharply.
“It’s eighty degrees outside.”
“Don’t argue with me, girl.”
Jennifer closed her mouth and waited until the old woman finished warming up the milk, then dumped in the powder. Daring to make cocoa with water would earn a severe tongue-lashing from Mrs. Carmody.
The cup was warm, and the cocoa was hot on her lips and spread heat through her chest. The old woman sat down, leaning on the table to steady herself.
“What gave you such a fright?”
“I had a nightmare, that’s all. I’m sorry I woke you.”
Mrs. Carmody shook her head slightly, as if shaking it too hard might send it rolling off her neck. “Don’t you worry about that. You didn’t wake me. I’m too old to sleep. That wasn’t just a nightmare, girl.”
“I dreamed about the bridge,” she said.
“Oh.” Mrs. Carmody nodded heavily with a sad, knowing smile.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jennifer said, taking a sip of cocoa. “It happens now and then. It’s just a dream.”
“I’d say it isn’t.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “It’s normal to have bad dreams.”
Is it normal to wake up on the floor? Is it normal to scream in your sleep?
Jennifer brushed her hair back over her shoulder. The old woman looked at her patiently, as if there were something obvious she wasn’t seeing. Jennifer looked down.
“When are you going to stop wearing that?”
Jennifer drew her ring to her chest. “It’s mine.”
“That boy wouldn’t want you to live like this, child.”
“I’m not a child,” she said sharply.
Mrs. Carmody leaned forward.
Jennifer tried not to scowl.
“I was ten years old before my family owned a radio. I remember sitting right there in front of it when we heard that Pearl had been attacked. That radio sat there all through the war. Used to sit around it and listen and wonder where my brother and uncle were. One came back with one leg. The other didn’t come back at all. My uncle had six children, and them and his wife moved in here, with us.
“That radio broke and we bought another, then one after that. I remember when we first got television. We had one channel, but that was enough. Never thought I’d watch a man walk on the moon.
“My uncle’s children are all gone now. If they were here they’d have grandchildren older than you. I lived my life tucked up in this old house, I don’t want to see you do the same, you hear?”
Jennifer frowned. “I… I don’t know. I…”
She downed the rest of the cocoa with a gulp, not caring that it was too hot. Mrs. Carmody took the cup, hobbled to the sink, and rinsed it out under the faucet.
“Your boy Franklin wouldn’t have wanted it either. He was a sweet boy. Not like them other ones.”
“Thank you for the cocoa,” Jennifer said, her voice hollow and flat.
Mrs. Carmody touched her shoulder at the door. “Now you get to bed. School’s early.”
Jennifer bolted her own door as soon as she was inside, and headed up the stairs. The bed was a mess of sheets damp with sweat that would take time to dry. She gathered up sheets and pillows, then carried it all downstairs before falling asleep on the couch.
Her alarm went off at five. A quick shower and breakfast later, she was on her bike with her jacket folded up in the basket over the rear fender and her messenger bag lashed to her back. Today the school did not look like a fortress. It looked like a prison, but at least it was safe. Between her door and the school was no-man’s land.
“Hey, Jenn,” Lisa the secretary said, looking up from her papers. “You get home okay? It was a hell of a storm.”
“Yeah, I got a ride,” she said, absently.
“Rachel?”
“No, Jac-“ she shook her head, “Mr. Kane. The new math teacher.”
Lisa nodded slowly, and smiled.
Jennifer stormed out of the office, scowling. Why was her personal life everyone’s business?
It was early yet. The door to Jacob’s classroom was lit from within, casting wavy light on the lockers opposite. She opened her door, dropped her bag on her desk, and strode across the hall. His door was unlocked, but she knocked anyway.
“Come in.”
She swung the door open. His classroom smelled of dry-erase markers, that ugly rubbery smell an overheating computer makes, and an undercurrent of cologne. The school-issue printer was chugging out his assignments for the day. He looked up from his computer and sat back in his seat.
“Good morning,” she said.
He turned. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
She rubbed her arm.
Say something. You're acting like a fourteen year old.
He stood and leaned on his desk. “You still look
a little shaken up.”
Sighing, she looked up. “I… I had a nightmare last night.”
Why did she tell him that?
“Ah.” He looked off, away from her. “I get those too.”
He did? Why? Oh.
She yawned. “You’re up awfully early. It’s not even six thirty.”
“I do most of my prep work in the morning.”
She shrugged. “That might not be a good idea. You have a first block class.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Jennifer shifted from foot to foot, like a nervous teenager. “They’re not so bad. I mean they are, but they’re not malicious, they’re just teenagers. We were all that age once, too.”
Stop dancing around it and ask him.
There was something questioning in his look, and Jennifer’s cheeks heated. Her braid slipped over her shoulder, and she absently played with it.
“About last night,” she said softly.
“Changed your mind?”
“What? Oh, no, I just… I wanted to see if you still wanted to…”
He bit his lip. She couldn’t get a read on his expression.
“Why don’t you drop by on Saturday morning, and we can go for a bike ride?”
“I’d like that.”
She glanced back as she left the room, still playing with her braid. Stepping back into her classroom woke her up without the dogging weariness. Materials had to be laid out, and activities prepared.
When the bell rang, she greeted each student by name with a smile, and they replied with quizzical looks. The day blurred by until lunch. She weighed seeking out Jacob again, but a worrying twist in her belly made her afraid she’d come on too strong. She went to Rachel’s room instead.
The older teacher was at her desk, eating a disgusting combination of breakfast cereals, a peanut butter and banana sandwich, and a cup of yogurt, then washed it all down with orange soda. Jennifer dropped her lunch on the desk and tisk-tisked.
“Now now,” said Rachel, waggling a finger at Jennifer. “If I don’t eat like a pig, the kids won’t crack jokes about me being stoned all the time.”
“Yes, they will,” said Jennifer.
“He likes you.”
Jennifer scowled and said nothing.
“He’s been making bedroom eyes at since he saw you. That display in the hallway yesterday was very heroic.”
“That wasn’t for my benefit,” she said.
“I’m sure it wasn’t.”
Jennifer glared at her.
“I have big news,” Rachel said.
“What?”
“Kazmeyer put in his notice. He’s cashing in his sick days. His last day is in February.”
“He’s retiring?”
Rachel nodded. “You know he’s tried to get me fired, like, three times? Me? You know what the last one was about?”
“What?”
“I dared to show the old Romeo and Juliet movie in class. You know, the one with boobs. It’s one scene.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Did you send the release home?”
“Of course I did. I still got written up for it, but I have tenure. Now you do, too. You should let your hair down a little.”
Jennifer sighed. “I think I’ll just stick with my lesson plans.”
“Good for you,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “How’s it going this year? Any problems?”
“I wish I didn’t have the freshmen after lunch.”
“Before lunch, after lunch, they’re all thinking about their classmates naked and producing excess body odor. Don’t worry, we can shove them all off on Kazmeyer’s replacement, whoever they can find.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she said. “Though I sort of like freshmen. Sometimes.”
Rachel snorted.
“You love them,” Jennifer said.
“No, I just lost my mind in my fifth year.”
The bell rang a moment later. Jennifer said hello to some of Rachel’s freshmen as they came in. She had her own to tend.
The freshmen were docile, and the advanced placement class went smoothly enough. The conversation focused on the assigned reading. By the time it was over, she was exhausted. She sat behind her desk during Advisory and looked busy.
That didn’t stop Krystal, who sidled over, dragging her chair noisily across the floor.
“What?” Jennifer said, doing her best to sound terse. Despite everything, she felt light, somehow.
“I heard you got a ride from Mr. K.”
“So he’s Mr. K now,” Jennifer said. “I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed.”
“You’re not denying it,” Krystal said.
“Have you ever considered journalism school?”
Krystal grinned and shifted in her seat.
“What about you and, um…” Jennifer glanced at the table.
Krystal sat next to Cole, the boy from the fight. Jennifer wondered how that happened, but she was happy to see it.
“What about us?”
“Us, is it?”
“I don’t know. He asked me out. I haven’t said yes.”
“Far be it from me to advise,” said Jennifer.
“I think I’m going to.”
“I’m thrilled.”
“Are you going out with Mr. K?”
Jennifer looked at her. “Don’t you have work to do?”
7.
Yawning, Jennifer stretched until her back and shoulders popped, then swung her legs out of bed. A ride was just the thing for a Saturday morning. The forecast said it would barely top eighty degrees today.
She brushed her teeth, then plucked at her eyebrows. Any makeup would smear from sweat, and she rarely wore it anyway.
Riding back and forth to school in the sun brought out her freckles, and they were especially darker under her left eye. They dotted her neck and shoulders, too. She wound her hair in a bun instead of her usual braid to prevent it from swinging behind her as she rode. After dressing quickly in an old t-shirt and shorts, she put on pads and her helmet.
Her ring itched.
We’re just riding bikes. That’s all.
She sat on the edge of her bed to lace up her sneakers when she heard a thump downstairs, and the doorbell chimed. She tied the laces and darted down the stairs.
She pulled the door open without looking through the peephole. Jacob wore ragged cut off jeans and a black t-shirt of high performance weave that fit him like a second skin. The tight muscles of his chest and stomach flexed as he breathed.
“Hi?” he said.
Jennifer stared at hi m.
“Oh, hi,” Jennifer shook her head. “Um, I-“
“Ready to go?”
Jacob insisted on lifting her bike down the stairs to sit next to his. She expected something elite and expensive, but it was a battered three speed with fading paint that he might’ve bought at a toy store. He walked his bike down to the road beside her. There was no sign of his car. He must’ve ridden down to meet her.
“Where are we headed?”
He nodded in a generally southern direction. “That way.”
“Suits me,” said Jennifer.
“See if you can keep up.”
She arched an eyebrow at the challenge, and strapped on her helmet. Jacob did the same after pulling his hair back and tying it loosely with a cord. They took off slowly, but he soon increased his speed. The pace was easy enough as they rode down the street towards the school. The town still slept.
Jacob glanced at her, leaned into it, and put on the speed.
Jennifer kept up. If he meant to impress her, it wasn’t working. It took her a while to get nice and warmed up, and then she pulled ahead of him. He pedaled faster and pulled alongside her, and she sped up yet again.
“Are you trying to lose me?”
“No,” she shouted, grinning. “Not yet.”
He started to pull ahead again. He wasn’t even breathing hard. Jennifer leaned into her handlebars and went all out.
“C
atch me if you can!” she shouted.
I haven’t had this much fun since… her ring itched.
Her leg muscles burned, but she pushed through it with steady deep breaths and the will to go faster. Jacob disappeared from her peripheral vision and her cheeks ached from grinning.
This was fun. Definitely far more fun than riding solo. Rides like this cleared her head, but on most days she returned to the house with more worries than when she left. Riding as fast as she could and challenging him to keep up was freeing
The ching-ching of his goofy bell dogged her. Jennifer chanced a moment’s glance at him, and pedaled faster. Sweat prickled on her forehead and between her shoulder blades.
Everything but the pumping of her legs faded from her mind. She crested the next hill and rocketed down, not coasting but using it to grab more speed. Jacob leaned into it now, but he kept pace with her. His body was tight, his arms flexed, and his face was a mask of concentration. Jennifer forced herself to keep her eyes on the road.
Aware of his presence next to her, just like the rays of the sun on her back or the wind rushing over the skin of her legs, she laughed and pedaled faster. She led the way, turning onto Commerce Street and out of the town proper. They blasted past the pub, the local Loyal Order of Moose, and the battered old diner at the south end of town.
Silence fell on her as she pedaled across the new four lane bridge. The bike lane overlooked over the river, and Jennifer purposely avoided looking to her right. Even though the wreckage cleared away a long time ago, a jagged landscape of torn metal and broken concrete would always be there.
Jennifer let off when they reached the other side where the road went from cement back to asphalt. She panted as she coasted to a stop. Sweat glued her shirt to her back.
Jacob offered her a bandana, and she took it. His shirt material carried the sweat to the surface rather than absorbing it, and the effect made his chest shine. He wiped his forehead on the back of his hand.
“I should get one of those shirts,” she said, gasping between words as she tugged on her shirt to get some air flowing.
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