Awake Asleep Dreaming Dead

by John Siwicki

  They walked from the entire length of Waikiki beach and back. Stopping along the way for a bite and drink, and occasionally stepping into the Pacific. They went to the Mona Surf Rider and checked into their room. The hotel was surrounded with buildings, but behind on the beach side was a huge Banyan tree that protected the terrace, and a swimming pool. They found a table, ordered some drinks, and watched the sunset.

  He looked at Spratt driving the truck, watching him fiddle with the radio, then the Warren Zevon song, “Werewolves of London” came on.

  Sam was semi-conscious watching the trees pass under the sky. Where are Tom and Lori, he thought.

  The truck rumbled down the valley road. Sam felt a storm brewing, not in the sky, but in the surrounding forest. The trees were alive, and sending waves of emotion outward. A force of nature was exploding from all the harm done, and it was fighting back. It was big, and spread over the valleys, roads, through canyons, into tunnels, and caves. It could be felt, but not touched, and heard, but not seen.

  Spratt drove up to the E.R., slammed on the brakes, then jumped out without missing a beat like he’d rehearsed it. He opened the tailgate, and picked Sam up.

  Hey, I need some help for my friend, he shouted.

  Sam’s breath was shallow, skin pale, and his voice—there was none. Only a wisp of air from his lips gave the least bit of hope that he was alive, and still in the world.

  The paramedics dropped the wheels of the gurney, held the IV steady, and bowled into the E.R. Down the hallway with the staff busily moving equipment preparing to save a human life. They connected the necessary electronic gadgets that showed his beating heart, temperature, and breathing. All there for everyone to see, beeping machines, and jumbled jargon from the staff. This ultimate event we all will someday experience, and all think about at a certain age. How will it come? Accident? Breakdown of our body from old age? Murdered for jealousy, love, hate? Or no good reason?

  Spratt stayed at the hospital with Sam until Esther came.

  She hugged Spratt. You’re a hero, she said. You saved his life.

  He’s my friend, and he’d do the same for me. I’ll wait out there in the lobby. Don’t worry, Esther, he’s tough. He’ll be okay.

  A parade of medical people came in, then began setting up, checking, and connecting devices to Sam.

  Maybe it would be better if you waited outside, a doctor said. We’ll let you know how he’s doing.

  Okay, Esther said.

  Morning, Esther, Spratt said. Get any sleep? I just talked to the doctor, and there’s no change.

  Thanks, she said, and closed her eyes.

  Then Joe Conrad walked in the waiting room. How’s he doing?

  The same, Spratt said.

  You know, Joe said, I just heard on the news this morning, the bones where Sam crashed are what’s left of Holiday.

  That crazy-nut-case who killed cats and was in prison?

  Yeah, and some woman’s bones were there, too, but they don’t know whose. They think Holiday had something to do with the architect who disappeared years ago. You know, Alan Rogers. The guy who designed the park where we had Sam’s party.

  Why do they think that?

  They found a wrist-watch that belonged to the architect. If Sam hadn’t driven off that cliff, it would still be a mystery.

  So, they think Holiday killed the architect. Spratt stood and stretched. Sam was on the way to his house to take pictures. So, what happened to the architect?

  They don’t know, but talk is they’re going to do some digging around his house.

  I guess Sam’s the hero if he’s solved the crime.

  Then young Holiday walked into the waiting room, and they went silent.

  Hi, I’m John Holiday, the dentist. I come here a few times a week to check on my patients. I just heard the news about Sam. How’s he doing?

  We don’t know, Spratt said.

  How’s Esther?

  She’s tired, and asleep, been up all night.

  If there’s anything I can do let me know.

  Okay, we will, Joe said.

  Holiday left the room, and as he walked down the hall he saw Sam’s mother—their eyes met. Holiday wanted to say something but didn’t. I have to say something, he thought. He turned, and said, Mom. She continued walking never looking back, then as Holiday stepped in the elevator she looked back, but he was gone.

  Sam woke, and watched the sun come up through the window. He stared at the glow a moment, then closed his eyes.

  Esther moved closer. How are you?

  Sam moaned, then whispered, Take Holiday’s picture next to the oak tree—at the playground.

  Take Holiday’s picture? What? Why?

  Get my camera. You know the one. I always used it when we traveled. Take Holiday’s picture next the tree. Make him touch it with his hand, and take the picture.

  Okay, Sam, she said. Okay.

  It was raining very hard the next morning. Lightning and thunder streaked across the sky.

  Sam opened his eyes, looked up at the ceiling. He heard footsteps and voices in the hallway. He saw Esther sleeping on a chair not knowing the time, day, or how long he’d been out. He reached for a glass of water on the table next to the bed. He took it in his hand, and raised it to his lips. That’s good, he said. It fell from his hand, to the floor, and smashed to pieces.

  Esther woke, saw the broken glass. Sam—

  FUNERAL

  A gleaming black wagon covered in simple ornate chrome bauble made its way through town, and up Main Street. It was followed by a caravan of dull glowing headlights washed by the morning sun. Traffic from the opposite direction slowed, pulled over, and stopped in respect for the soul who had passed to the here-after. Heads in these cars turned to see vehicles roll by at a steady speed. They watched the bereaved behind the rows of evenly spaced glass. A dreary atmosphere filled the interior of each vehicle on this last ride. Other than an occasional nose being blown, or tear being wiped away, the mood was quiet and somber. Behind the windows of a few passing cars, kids stuck out their tongues, made funny faces, and waved at the caravan. The procession followed the black wagon to the outskirts of town, down a winding country road, over a bridge, and between fields of green alfalfa. Column in tow, the caravan drove by rows of mailboxes, over the hills, and turned left at the base of a knoll. The black wagon drove into a parking lot enclosed by a dark wrought iron fence. Next to the stone garden, the cars shuffled around. This is where the ride ended, and where Sam’s bones would rest. Where relatives, friends, and visitors came to talk to the ground. They placed flowers in gratitude for past time experiences.

  The mourners marched through the parked cars, then the iron Gate, on a path that led between headstones stamped with familiar names. They gathered, and lined up near a grave that had been hollowed out. The casket was carried from the black wagon, and up the slope by six friends who then placed it on top of a mechanical device with cables and pulleys. It was surrounded by a mound of dirt, a blanket of green artificial turf, and flowers. Everyone was silent, talking in whispers—waiting. They were thinking of a lost time, a memorable experience, an event from their youth. Maybe it would come back to each of them today. Eyes met as people moved into position, then the pallbearers moved off to the side. They all stood, bowed heads for the final part of the ceremony, and waited for the end to begin.

  It was a beautiful morning, the kind of morning worth taking a picture of, but that would be someone else’s job today. The preacher stood waiting while everyone maneuvered to find their spot before he spoke.

  The preacher opened the bible, and said, We’ve come here today to wish our friend a happy voyage to the here-after, and all of our prayers go with him. He was man who loved life and the world. He found his talent to be photographing it, the things, and the people in it. He brought these images to life, and gave them a singular and unique quality.

  He covered weddings in the church where we were this morning, and probably took photos of some
of you paying respects here today. We’ve all seen his work in his studio, marveled at the scenes, and portraits he crafted. At thirty, his life was short. He talked to me about his love for Esther, about what he wanted to do in the future. We know he’s looking down on us, and the plans that were made will be changed, but his life touched us all, and he’ll not be forgotten. The memories and images Sam left for us will keep us going. We hope you rest in peace. Let’s all bow for a moment of silence, and say a prayer. Let’s remember a time, a time when you laughed or cried, a time you celebrated, a time that you wish could last forever.

  Heads bowed in the silent air, then the surrounding clouds floated away into an open cobalt sky as rays of sunshine shone down. Sam’s mother was the first to get up, walk over, and drop a flower on the casket. Esther followed, then family, finally Joe, Spratt, and friends.

  Spratt turned to Joe Conrad. I thought he was going make it, he said. I’m going to miss him.

  It’s life, man, don’t take it so hard. That’s the way it is—full of surprises. It’s not your fault. You tried to help him. You got him to the hospital, but they couldn’t save him.

  It’s not the kind of surprise I like, or expect, right after a birthday party.

  When our time comes, it comes, and there ain’t a damn thing we can do about it. Too bad for Esther, though, he was planning to propose to her.

  Then a cat ran out through the legs of the people, and jumped under the casket, and into the grave. Someone giggled, then everyone started laughing.

  Please show some respect, the preacher said.

  Did you see that, Spratt said. It looked like Sam’s cat.

  Can’t be. That cat disappeared years ago.

  They come back, Spratt said.

  Joe looked at Spratt. Not after that long.

  The prayers finished, and people made their way to the parking lot as some men tried to find the cat. Spratt and Joe watched them a while, then walked to their trucks.

  See you at the lunch, Spratt said.

  Yeah, I’ll be there.

  I’ll be right back, Esther said to Sam’s mother. I just want to talk to Spratt and Joe a minute.

  Okay, I’ll wait for you.

  She turned, and walked toward the two big trucks. She tried to smile. You guys are coming to the lunch at the studio, right?

  We’ll be there, Spratt said. Don’t know what else to say about everything, Esther, just really, really, sorry how it all turned out.

  I know, she said. See you guys at the lunch. We’ll talk there. They hugged and she got in the car with Sam’s mother.

  The driver of the car, an employee of the funeral home, asked, Ready, ladies?

  Esther, Sam’s mother, said. Ready?

  Yes, she said, and the car drove away. Esther turned for one last look.

  Esther, I know you loved Sam very much, and I just want you to know that you can have anything of his, but we can talk about that later. I just wanted you to know.

  Thanks. There’s one thing I’d like. The old film camera he used all the time, the Nikon FM2.

  The one they found near his car?

  That’s the one! He took it everywhere, and on all of the trips we went on. He took pictures of places all around the world with it. I’d like to have it if it’s okay with you.

  Anything you want, Esther. We’ll go through everything next week. Just tell me what you want.

  At Sam’s studio, lunch was catered by the restaurant where he and his friends had been scolded for using too much ketchup on their french-fries. Everyone had a story from the old days. Sam’s pictures, his life, studio, the one time barber shop, would keep all the memories alive.

  PICTURES IN TIME

  A week later, Esther was at home, Sam’s old camera on the kitchen table. She made coffee, and was sitting, staring out the window, thinking of all the places she’d been with Sam. On the floor was a box with albums and pictures of these places. She opened the box, and took out a journal she’d never seen before, and opened it to the first page.

  Tom and I were married today, at a park in Japan, near where I grew up. It was sunny, and the birds sang like they were hired to do a concert just for us. All of my friends and relatives were there. Tom’s friend who builds log cabins was there, too. This has been the happiest day of my life!

  I love you, Tom!

  Then, she turned to the last page, and last entry.

  We’re in the US now, and driving to Tom’s home town, where he had a barber shop.

  We picked up a hitch-hicker. His name is Holiday.

  He said he was going to L.A.

  Tom said he wanted to take us to Alan Roger’s house and school to show us the kind of house he’d like to build.

  It’s late, and I’m in the car waiting for Tom and Holiday to come back from Alan Roger’s house.

  Only, Holiday came back.

  I don’t know what happened to Tom or Alan Rogers.

  He won’t let me go. I’m afraid.

  Esther heard a knock on the door before she could read more.

  Who could that be?

  She walked to the door, and saw Dr. Holiday standing there.

  Hi, Esther.

  Hello.

  I had to come by and ask if there was anything I could do. I hope it’s okay. I don’t know what to say about the situation. The newspapers are going crazy with the story.

  I’m fine, she said. Come in.

  Sam was a good guy. I didn’t know him that well, but when he came to the clinic for a check-up, he was easy-going, and always had something interesting to talk about. I’m really sorry about the accident.

  I know. Thanks for stopping by. Want to come in? I was just looking at some pictures of our trips. They were taken with that old camera there on the table. He loved that camera, and never went anywhere without it. He tried to show me how to use it. I’ve got the hang of it a little. I’ll be taking pictures with it as long as I can buy film. Anyway, have a seat. Coffee?

  Sure. Mind if I look at some of the pictures?

  Go ahead.

  These are very nice. You guys traveled a lot.

  Yes, we did. We went to a lot of places. Places I’d like to someday see again.

  This is a really nice shot of the sunrise. Where was it taken?

  Holiday handed the picture to Esther. I can’t say. Don’t remember this picture. I think Sam’s mom said something about developing the film that was in the camera. Maybe it’s from the morning he went to do the job, and . . . .

  It’s a beautiful shot, there’s so much detail, and the valleys seem to roll on forever.

  Esther had tears in her eyes. She wiped them away.

  I’m sorry, maybe I should go? Holiday said, looking ready to leave, and stood.

  No, no, it’s okay. I’m fine. Please stay.

  Just let me know when you want me to go, he said, and sat back down. I don’t want to intrude.

  Really, it’s okay, stay.

  Tell me about some of the places you’ve been to.

  Esther picked up a picture. This was taken in the Redwood Forest, that’s Sam standing in front of the tree. I had to move so far back to get the tree in the picture. Can’t even tell it’s Sam. Those trees were so huge, and we felt like ants next to them. It’s an interesting place, and I felt there was some kind of energy surrounding the trees.

  Sometimes I get that feeling when I’m looking for things to make the necklaces. I sometimes wonder how a stone that looks so unusual ever got to the place where I found it. Like it was put there, just for me to find. Remember the necklace I said I’d make for you?

  Yes, I remember.

  I’d like you to have it, he said, and pulled it from his pocket. I made it for you.

  It’s beautiful.

  Made it in my shop. Come over sometime, and have a look. I’ll show you how to make one.

  I think I’d like that.

  Just let me know when.

  Esther smiled. How about next week?

  Sure, fine.<
br />
  Next week then. I’ll call you, she said.

  She closed her eyes, and imagined Sam holding her. His hands dancing on her back. Thoughts and images of the last night with Sam—in his car—at his birthday party flooded her mind. That night the moon was full—the river flowed—the sounds of the people echoed—she was with Sam.

  She opened her eyes.

  Esther, you okay? I thought you were going to pass out.

  I’m fine. I’m okay, don’t worry.

  Bye, Holiday said, and turned. Esther was standing in the doorway. Are you sure you’re okay? I could stay?

  I’m fine. See you, she said. Doc, I want to show you a special place.

  I’d loved to see it, he said.

  I’ll show you next week.

  BIRTH

  Esther spent the day at the playground under the oak tree thinking of Sam, and all her experiences with him. She looked down and caressed her stomach. Hi, so this is the special place you’ve been talking about, Holiday said.

  I just feel comfortable sitting under this tree. It’s where I met Sam. How are you?

  Great! Look, I made another one for you. Worked on it all night, and finished it this morning. Holiday handed Esther a silver linked, white stone bracelet.

  It’s beautiful. Can I put it on?

  Sure, here, let me. Holiday sat next to Esther who was leaning back on the oak. It fits you perfectly. This tree’s been here forever, hasn’t it?

  Yes, so long, no one really knows how long.

  She pointed, and said, We raced to the oak from that slide over there.

  Lot’s of memories here, and look at all the names.

  Yeah, there are lots of names carved in this old tree.

  Where’s your name, Esther?

  It’s right there, next to Sam’s. We talked about our dreams when we carved our names. He talked about being a famous movie director, and I was going to be his leading lady.