Oubliette

Part 1

In my dream, I am grabbed by strong arms. No, not arms. By things. Dark and shadowy, I've never really seen them, never really looked at them. But I think I know what they are.

They drag me through dust that smells like charred bones. I am outside, and a sickly moon shines down through dirty, grey clouds. I am in a wasteland. There are no trees, no animals, no buildings. Nothing. Just the plagued moon and the charnel powder that forms clouds around my feet as I kick it into the air.

I squirm and struggle. I believe I can get free. I tell myself I can get free. I fight and scream, even though no sound echoes in the dead air.

And slowly, I tire, just like I always do. My muscles go limp and my will breaks down. And just when I've completely given up, I reach the place.

It's a black iron trapdoor in the ground. It opens, smoothly swinging up, willed into motion by the things, and I look down into a place darker, crueler, and more jagged than the barren landscape I've just been dragged through. There is nothing down there but agony and punishment, and the things give me a push so light I can barely feel it, but still I start falling, down ... down ... down ...

And I end up where I belong.

*****

I wake up. I'm not crying this time. That hasn't happened since Zoe was born. Joelle is still asleep by my side. No nightmares mar her features, smooth and peaceful in the light streaming through our bedroom window.

I get out of bed and walk over to the window, placing my palm on the pane of glass. I look at the moon through the spaces between my fingers. It looks real. It looks clean. It looks impartial. That doesn't seem right.

I walk out of the bedroom and down the hallway to Zoe's room. I peek in, but the curtains are drawn and it's completely dark inside so I can't see her. I can hear her slow, even breathing though, and it calms me down. I should probably go back to sleep now, while I still can.

I don't though. I'm compelled to go to Nash's room. I wonder how much of what I've done in the past five years has been of my own volition. And I wonder how much of it has been the desire of the things from my dream, snaking their tendrils into my mind, wearing me down. I open the door a crack and peer in. His nightlight is on, bathing him in a soft orange glow.

I watch him for a while, and I marvel at how new he looks, how undamaged, how clean. He can wake up in the morning and walk into the sunshine fresh and unstained. He doesn't have to take every step burdened by his mistakes. His every thought isn't tainted by the knowledge that there is someone sitting, suffering, drifting in torment because of him.

I shut his door as quietly as I can and return to my bedroom. I thought for a while it could be true. I don't know why I give myself these illusions. There's no way he can be innocent. It's impossible.

After all, he looks just like me.

Part 2

Oh ... yeah .... On a plane. My. Plane. Flashes of flesh. Glimpses of skin. Oh ... yeah ... Smells like sex. Tastes like sex. Oh ... yeah ... Bodies come near. Swaying hair. Swaying breasts. Oh ... yeah ...

Outside the window. Colour of grief. Ribbons of pain. Coming for me. Can't get in. Won't get in. Not in here. My. Plane.

Oh ... yeah ... Colour of sex. Ribbons of lust. Oh ... yeah ... Bodies on me. Liquid and warm. Fuck me. Suck me. Oh ... yeah ...

Inside the plane. My. Plane. High above. Ruin below. Mustn't land. Never land. Keep on flying. Sex for fuel. Sticky and sweet.

Oh ... yeah ... Tastes like pleasure. Salty and sweet. Wet as ecstasy. Oh ... yeah ... Slick as rapture. Moans and groans. Oh ... yeah ... oh ... yeah ... oh ... yeah ...

*****

I wake up, so hard I'm aching. Always happens when I have this dream. It's like being drenched with sex. On the plane, the air is sultry with desire. Seeps into my pores. Drowns me in lust.

I reach for Dina. Stroke her silky blonde hair. She blinks a few times. Lips curl up in a sleepy smile. She touches my face. Her fingertips are cold. No, my face is warm.

"I know what you want." Dina whispers, her voice not awake yet.

I've been having this dream. Five years now. On and off. It's a strange, strange dream. Or it was at first. But not anymore. I'm used to it. Dina's used to it. She doesn't know. But she knows how I am after having it. She knows what I need.

She reaches down. A chuckle breezes out of her throat. She knows me well. I moan sharply.

Such a weird dream. Plane fueled by sex. A multitude of bodies. Naked and fresh. Can't see their faces. Can't hear their voices. They blur too much. Like they're vapour in the air. Thick with sex. But then they touch me, feel me, please me. Become so exquisitely solid. And the plane eats the sex so it can keep flying. So I never have to land.

I roll on top of her. Reach down with my hand. I know her well, too. She gives a shard of a scream.

Then I remember. Today, I should call. Assets, portfolios, properties, investments. Have to talk to my financial advisor. Make sure everything is safe. Can always do better. Never know when it's needed. So strange. Having this thought. Now. When I'm on her. But it always happens. After the dream.

She purrs and growls. We move together. Strong, familiar rhythm.

This always helps. Making the dream real. More real. I can see her face. I can hear her voice. She's all I need. She is my fuel. She keeps me above. So I don't have to worry about below. So it will always be below. And I will never end up there. She has to be all I need.

"Fuck me harder." Her voice is breathy, frantic, exposed.

She tenses. I tense. We struggle together. If I could make it real. Dream might go away. And then there would be. No more outside. No more below. And I would be free.

I can't seem to fuck her hard enough.

Part 3

I dream about Edmonton, only it's not quite Edmonton. The streets look the same, but there's something different about them. As I tread on their bodies of concrete and dirt, people hiss and stare and point at me. I walk faster. I walk home. Four blocks east, ten blocks south. That's all I have to walk to reach home and escape these people, escape these streets.

I walk three blocks east and stop. I can hear a soft chuckle emerge with a wisp of steam from the manhole cover in the middle of the road. Something isn't right about where I am. I look at the street signs. I'm further away from home. And I'm nearer to ...

I look back the way I came, and I see that it's completely different from the street I walked down moments ago. The sidewalk is lined with people, and they're all standing still, just staring at me, pointing at me. Man sitting in a cafe, still holding his coffee. Woman carrying a shopping bag. Old lady on a walker. Many others. All staring, pointing, judging.

I turn around and I want to run away from them, but I shouldn't, because then they will know for sure. If I just stay calm, I can fool them, and I can trick them into believing I haven't done anything wrong. I can do it ... I can do it ... I can do it ...

I look at the street sign, and I know where I am. Eight blocks east, twelve blocks south. I can make it - that's not too far. I ignore the small hisses of displeasure that erupt from the sidewalk where my feet touch the ground. I hear it with every step I take.

The streets of Edmonton are familiar to me. I've been here for so long and I know them so well. Or maybe I just think I know them. I stop at a corner and look at the sign. No, no, no! How can I be further away? And nearer to ...

I whirl around, and I'm surrounded by people, all staring and pointing, and some of them are starting to murmur at me. It sounds like gibberish, and as they open their mouths, I can see the glint of sharp, white teeth.

The streets are lying to me, and betraying me to these people. I know they are. I know they are. No! Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. I look at the street sign. Fourteen blocks east, fourteen blocks south. I can still do it. I can still make it home.

Or are the street signs deceiving me as well?

I start walking faster, forcing my way through the crowd. I feel a hand pushing me, and then another and another and another, and soon I'm not walking anymore. I'm carried by the sea of people, flowing through the street channels of Edmonton, surging to the one place in the city I don't want to be.

No, no, no! Not here, not now, not ever. I can't be here ... I can't be here ... I can't be here ...

The people that pushed me here melt away from me, forming human walls, blocking every escape route. Their skin melts and morphs, and I see that they aren't people after all. They are demons and devils, forked tongues flicking as they taste my fear, spiked tails lashing the air, red scales and red eyes glistening and sparkling.

I look around desperately. I have to run away. I have to get home. I need to ... I need to ... I need to ...

And as I turn around I see her. She's standing there, right in the middle, surrounded by the throng, as am I, and she turns to look at me. And I can't stand it, I can't bear to see her face, I can't bear to look at her. I turn away from her and I run, away from her, straight into the seething mass of monsters.

And they tear me apart.

*****

I wake up in a cold sweat.

I look to my side. Thankfully, Caroline isn't there. I hate it when she knows I have one of these nightmares, because then she starts poking and prodding and prying, and she wants to know what I've been dreaming and she says she wants to help, but all she wants to do is dig up my secrets. And I can never let her do that.

The phone rings and I jump, startled and still precariously on edge after my dream. It's Caroline. She's at the supermarket and her car won't start. She's already called CAA, but she needs me to pick her and the kids up.

I drive to the supermarket, taking a detour to get there. The tow truck's already there and Caroline and the kids pile into my car.

"That took a while." Caroline remarks, after giving me a kiss.

"Traffic." I reply, as we leave the parking lot, and head home.

The time passes, and I'm relieved that the children are being difficult, screaming and shouting as Caroline does her best to shut them up. Maybe she won't notice if I ...

"Todd, why did you turn right?" Caroline asks as she emerges briefly from the mess of slapping hands and flailing legs in the backseat of the car.

"What? Uhh, sorry, I got confused." I give her a stupid, helpless smile. My throat goes dry. She'll buy it again, won't she?

Won't she?

"Are you sure you're not suffering from post-concussion syndrome?" She winks at me. Relief bubbles up in me and it's all I can do not to burst out laughing. But I can't do that. It's really, really important I don't. Because if I do start laughing, I don't think I'll be able to stop.

We get home and Caroline and I carry the groceries in as the kids spill out of the car and stream into the house. After we set the bags down on the kitchen counter, I pull her in for a kiss and run my fingertips along her jawline because I know she likes that.

A scream from the living room summons her, and she kisses me again quickly before she hurries off. I wait until she's safely out of sight before I sink to the ground, seized again by the exhaustion that's been building up for the past five years.

I can't take this anymore. I have to know that they'll remain quiet, that they won't crack and break and ruin everything . I have to know that they won't betray me like the streets of Edmonton do in my dream.

So I decide to write them letters, because I can't stand the thought of talking to them on the phone about this, because anybody could be listening, and I can't control what they might say. I tell them to come back to Edmonton.

Scott was the first to go, as he should have been, then Jason and finally, Doug. I'm the only one left in Edmonton.

I don't think I can handle that anymore.

I finish writing the letters - three identical messages with a time, a date and a place. I tell them not to call me. I seal the envelopes, press the stamps on, leave the house and drop them into the mailbox. I sigh deeply as they slip from my trembling hands. It's not enough, but it makes me feel better.

It will all be okay ... it will all be okay ... it will all be ...

Part 4

Scott's first.

He was the first to leave, and now he's the first to return.

He sits down on the park bench, looking defeated. There are dark circles under his eyes, and I wonder if he hasn't been sleeping well either.

Jason comes next and he's right on time. I see them greet each other gruffly, obviously unhappy to see each other, and Jason takes a seat on the bench next to him. They mumble at each other, sitting there stiffly as they stare straight ahead, refusing to look at each other. Their conversation quickly dies down.

I wait, checking my watch constantly. Ten minutes pass. Doug's not here yet. Why isn't he here? What if he didn't get the letter? What if it got lost in the mail? What if he missed his flight? What if he was held up?

What if he didn't want to come?

Scott and Jason are starting to shift about uncomfortably. Jason finally turns to look at Scott for the first time since he sat down and says something to him. Scott glowers at him and grits his teeth as he responds. Jason seems to snap and snarls something angrily at him. I can clearly see Scott mouth "fuck you" as his face turns red.

I can't wait any longer, Doug or no Doug. I can't have them drawing attention to themselves. Drawing attention to us. It's bad enough that so many people recognize us - I don't need them fighting each other, too.

"Stop it!" I hiss, as soon as I get within hearing range. Their faces are flushed, and Scott looks like he's on the verge of hitting Jason. They both turn to me as one and I can feel their anger hit me like a wave.

"Why the fuck did you ask us to come here, Todd?" Jason snarls at me. Scott's expression makes it clear that he wants an answer, too.

I pause, waiting for them to calm down. They don't. "I had to know that you could still be trusted."

"For fuck's sakes, Todd, that's all you wanted?" Scott explodes. "Couldn't you have just fucking called me instead? I had to fucking lie to my wife about this trip!"

"Keep your fucking voice down." I say as evenly as I can manage, considering I'm scared as hell. Not of Scott, but of who might hear us. There aren't that many people around, given that it's the middle of the week, but there are enough. Already, some of them are starting to look in our direction. They mustn't hear us. They can't hear us. I can't let them hear us.

"Why the fuck would you think you can't trust us?" Jason growls, thankfully at a much lower volume than Scott. "You should know we haven't said anything. Your door is the first one they'd come knocking on if they found out."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Jason?" I ask coolly, but inside I am raging at him. He is the one who's the most responsible among the four of us, and he thinks it was my fault? Time has muddled his memory. He must have fooled himself into believing he had less of a part in this than he actually did.

It was the right thing to do, to ask them to come. I can set them straight, remind them, convince them again why they can never tell.

Jason glares at me. "You were the one who fucking -"

"Fuck you. Fuck the both of you." Scott says, slowly and deliberately, his voice choked with emotion. "We are all fucked if this comes out."

He's practically shaking. He was always the one I was worried about the most. The one I always thought would crack. I look at him and I know he's going to tell. It's just a matter of time. I think ... I think ... I think ...

I have to take care of him first.

Jason looks like he's considering Scott's words and we all fall silent. He frowns, but I can see other emotions flicker through his face. Anger, guilt, worry and finally, sadness. He looks down at me and asks, "So where the fuck is Doug?"

"I don't know." I reply, looking around, hoping to spot him approaching us. I don't see him anywhere.

Where the fuck is Doug?

Part 5

"He probably decided not to come, which is what I should have done." Scott looks disgusted. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Todd? You send us these letters telling us to come to Edmonton and you make it sound like it's a matter of life and death -"

"Isn't it, though?" Todd asks. Smiles bitterly at Scott. "Or have you forgotten that?"

Scott sits back down. The bench creaks. He mumbles, "I haven't forgotten anything."

I look at them. Compare their faces. Scott looks old. Todd looks young. Scott looks weak. Todd looks strong. Was it always this way?

I look at them again. Compare their faces. They are the same. The same in their worry. They wear the burden of wife and children. They have so much to lose. That makes it all the more likely. They will lose it all.

I can remember. We were friends once. Not anymore. Maybe never again. That night changed everything. But I can remember. How we used to be.

So I take my memories. Try to make nostalgia reality. Repeat the speech of friends. Bare the smile of friends. Give the touch of friends. "I think Todd did the right thing. Maybe he was overly dramatic about it, but it's good to see you guys again. Would be better if Doug were here, but I think this will do the three of us some good."

Scott flinches. He looks suspicious. My hand on his shoulder. As if it is poison. My words in his ears. As if they are daggers. I sit down beside him. He takes a deep breath. He looks at me. Wan grin on his face. Vinegar in his voice. "Yeah, we can sit around, catch up, talk about old times."

So he puts on the mask of friendship. Will Todd join in? Our little performance. Play his part. Deliver his lines. "It's been five years. We haven't really talked since that night. I had to see for myself that you guys were okay."

Interesting, Todd. So you think of us. Pieces of glass with chips in them. Cracks growing and spreading. One day, the glass shattering.

Todd, don't you see? How close you are? Just one step away. From shattering into a million pieces.

We wait. People come. People go. The shadows crawl. The wind changes. We talk. The thin veneer of friendship. Holding up. Because none of us tries to scrape it off. We're rusty at first. But soon we fit ourselves back in. The cogs and gears of friendship. Just like clockwork. And the longer we talk. The more sure we are.

Doug isn't coming.

"Okay, Todd, I'm just going to call him and find out why the fuck he didn't come. Is that okay with you?" Scott is impatient. He reaches for his phone. He fails to see. Cold disapproval. Todd's eyes narrow.

"No." Todd's voice is final. Scott looks up. The veneer is peeling off. "You don't know who might be listening."

"Why would anyone -" And then he sees. Todd's eyes. His voice dies. His hand drops to his side. And I can see. His pulse throbbing along his neck. It surges with fear. I think he also wonders. What five years can do.

Part 6

It's in his eyes. I expected to see the weariness, the guilt and the worry - maybe because that's what I see whenever I look in the mirror.

What I didn't expect to see was the shakiness.

"Okay." I try to relax my voice. "I'm not calling him - satisfied?"

Todd frowns at me, but doesn't say anything in response. "I'll try to contact him again. There has to be a good reason why he isn't here."

He looks at his watch and tells us he has to go because Caroline will expect him home soon. He invites us to his house later this evening so we can talk more in private. Caroline and the children are leaving for her parents' place soon, and they'll be spending the night there.

Jason and I both agree. I wonder if we have a choice, if we ever had one to begin with.

We all leave the park together, walking in silence. I catch Jason's eye, and he glances nervously at Todd. He's seen it too, I think - that shakiness.

Todd gets into his car and I walk with Jason, past my rental to his car. I'm waiting for Todd to leave. As soon as he's out of sight, I pull my phone out again and call Doug.

"Jesus, what the hell is wrong with Todd?" Jason asks, half to me, half to himself.

I shrug at him and wait for Doug to answer. "Doug, it's Scott Thornton."

"What do you want?" His voice is icy.

I ask him if he received the letter from Todd, and he grunts in response. I take that as a "yes" and ask him why he didn't come to Edmonton. He answers that there is no reason for him to come. Then he yells at me, telling me to never call him again, and hangs up.

I don't blame him for not wanting to come, for not wanting to see any of us., because I didn't want to see any of them. I had to do something, though. Either try to heal the limb or cut it off.

It always seemed to me that Doug came out of it mostly unscathed, which is ironic considering he's the only one who knew her before that night. He even went on to become captain, later. Obviously staying in Edmonton didn't have same effect on him as it did on Todd. Then again, considering the conversation we just had, maybe it did.

Jason and I stand there uncomfortably after the phone call, and we hastily say our goodbyes, then leave in our respective cars. I am glad to be rid of his company.

The first thing I do when I get back to my hotel room is call home. Joelle answers and I build upon the lie I've already fed her. It doesn't surprise me how easily the words come to my mind. My life has been a lie for so long.

She hands the phone to Nash. He tells me excitedly all about his soccer game and how he almost scored a goal today. I smile as I hear his voice, and I realize, to my shame, that I am thankful he is not in front of me right now, telling me all of this. I am thankful because I don't have to see his face, to see myself in his features.

Then it is Zoe's turn. She babbles on in the nonsensical manner of toddlers that can only be understood by their parents, and on rare occasions, other toddlers. I listen to her voice, punctuated by laughs and gurgles, and I feel an overwhelming sense of love for her.

And then I remember where I am, and why I'm here, and it makes me think about what I would do if anything ever happened to her.

I struggle to control myself, forcing out a calm goodbye when Joelle gets back on the line. Then I hang up, and choking, wracking sobs seize my body as the tears roll down my face.

I am so very tired.

I set the alarm clock, remove my clothes, and get into bed. I fall asleep almost right away.

And blessedly, I don't dream at all.

Part 7

Can anyone let me out of here? Please? Will anyone help me?

Please? Help me? You see, I'm trapped in a cell. I don't think it's a prison cell. It sounds crazy, but I think that I'm in ... a giant hive.

At least I think it's a hive. These giant white insects walk past my cell all the time, and some of them come in, to give me food and water, but they don't talk to me, and I don't think they understand me.

There are others here, also trapped in cells, like mine. Sometimes the insects let us out, put us in a different part of the hive together. And I try to talk to them, but they all don't respond. I think they are too scared to. So am I, but I need to get out.

I do try, you know? To get out? Sometimes when I think the insects have dropped their guard, or they aren't looking at me, I try to run away.

But always, they catch me, and drag me back to their cell, and then, and this is the worst part, they bite me with their mandibles, and I can feel their poison entering me, burning in my veins.

Just like now ...

*****

I jolt awake, unsettled by the nightmare. I look over at my alarm clock. Oh well, I guess it's time to wake Helena up anyway.

I walk over to her room and knock on the door, calling her name. There's no response. She must be sleeping soundly. I wonder if she snuck out again last night and went partying with those troublemakers again.

I open the door and walk in. God, not again. I can smell pot in the room. I shake Helena awake and she barely stirs. What time did she come home, I wonder, that it's so hard to wake her up now?

"Mom, stop." She frowns and rubs her eyes blearily.

"You snuck out last night, didn't you? And you've been smoking pot again with those useless friends of yours?" I scream at her.

"So what if I have?" She yells back at me, sitting up in bed. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

"Don't you dare use that language with me! And what would your father think about all of this?" I finish my sentence and my voice catches in my throat. It's been so long since he passed away, but it still hurts so badly to think about him. And of course when I think about him, I think about Diana, too.

When I mention him, it's like all the anger drains out of her face. She hugs me and buries her face in my shoulder, apologizing softly. She's done this so many times before, though, but she doesn't change her behaviour. I really, really worry about her. I couldn't stand to lose another daughter.

She's all I've got left.

Part 8

I park on the street, a couple of houses down from Todd's house. I walk up to his place, remembering the last time I came here, five years ago. I wasn't even supposed to come that night. I was going to stay at home with Joelle and Nash, but she convinced me to go. She told me to have some fun.

I stop and look up. I'm standing right in front of his house. Just the sight of it brings all the memories back and I don't know how he can stand to still live here. To be reminded of that night constantly, to be surrounded by it, to be trapped by it.

Would I have turned out any different from Todd if I was in his position?

I walk up to his front door and ring the doorbell. He lets me in and we greet each other curtly. He leads me into the living room and we sit down, staringly sullenly at each other.

I remember us hugging each other when he answered the door that night. I remember his house full of people, happy and young and beautiful. And in the midst of that crowd, I noticed her, looking angry and sweet at the same time, talking to Jason, accepting his gift.

Todd starts talking to me about how he's worried about Doug, that Doug might talk, that he doesn't like not knowing what Doug's going to do. He talks about how much all of us have to lose, and suddenly, it occurs to me that he hasn't spoken a word about the ones who have already lost everything. I ask him about them.

Todd blinks at me a few times, then asks, "What about them?"

"They suffered because of what we did, Todd." I can't believe he's only concerned about himself.

"That's not true." Todd frowns at me. "She was responsible for her own actions. We didn't make her do anything."

"She was a child - how can you just blame everything on her?" I'm stunned by his refusal to be accountable for his part in what happened.

"She certainly didn't look or behave like a child. I didn't know how old she was. None of us did except Doug." Todd shrugs.

"God, have you been deceiving yourself all this time? You really think you're innocent?" How could he possibly think he is?

He falls silent and studies me for a while, an inscrutable expression on his face. "I know you are. So why are you behaving as if you're not?"

"Because I'm guilty ..." My voice trails off as I try to think of a way to explain it to him.

I'm guilty not because of something I did, but because I didn't do something I should have. Because I hesitated when I was faced with the choice.

And by hesitating, I made the worst choice of all.

Part 9

I show up. Her scent still on me. Her name gone from my mind. I feel calmer. More in balance. Back on track. Todd lets me in. Scott's already here. We exchange lifeless greetings. Scott's face is pale. Almost ashen. Todd's face is flushed. I see him watching us. Me and Scott. But mostly Scott.

I close the door. They continue their conversation. Scott's voice quavering. "I didn't do enough. I should have ..."

"Done what?" Todd looks at him. A shadow falls over Todd's face. It turns to dark. "What more could you possibly have done?"

"If I hadn't listened to you guys, I think I could have saved her." Scott continues. Not realizing where he's treading. How shaky the ground is. How close he is. Doesn't he know? If he walks there. He brings us along.

"If it weren't for you," Todd looks at me. Steel blue eyes. Steel cold gaze. "She wouldn't have needed saving."

I think back. I was young. I was dumb. I didn't know what I needed. But I knew what I wanted. Popularity. Friends. I wanted to be wanted. I had money. And people wanted money. So they wanted me.

I bought gifts for everyone. All shapes and sizes. Something for every want. And the gifts bought friends. That was my life.

Then came that night. I went to Todd's party. I didn't know what they would want. So I brought gifts. Something many would want. Something a few would need.

I brought happiness in a handful of dust.

She caught my eye. Looked so young. Looked so old. I talked to her. She pretended to listen. I gave her a gift. She smiled at me. I got bored. I moved on. And I saw her. She was going upstairs. Todd was going up with her.

I think I learned. Gifts can bind giver to receiver. And one can drag the other down.

"Are we playing the blame game again? I thought we already went through all of this. Didn't we decide a long time ago that it wasn't anybody's fault?" I calm my voice. I can only hope. I calm him as well.

"I thought we did." He glances at Scott. "But Scott doesn't seem to think so."

Scott shakes his head. Looks down. Is that where he wants to be? Dragged below? He can go if he wants. I don't.

"Why are we even here, Todd?" I'm sick of this. I want to move on. I've moved on. I don't need to be here. I just need to keep going. And leave all of this behind. "None of us have talked. None of us are going to talk. Doug isn't even here that's how little he wants to talk about this."

"Because I need to know." Todd says. He repeats. It's the same thing. Over and over. He's stuck on it. Just like he's stuck here. Stuck in Edmonton. Stuck in the past. Stuck with her.

He's not going anywhere. But I am. I'm leaving tomorrow. On a plane. Back to Dallas.

Away from Edmonton.

Part 10

Is Jason blind? Or stupid? Isn't he concerned at all that Doug Weight didn't come? It means that Doug doesn't think this is important anymore, and that means it's going to be easier for him to let things slip out.

He could get drunk and spill everything to his wife. He seemed all right while he was here, but maybe leaving Edmonton made him forget how important it is to keep our secret.

But the one I'm the most worried about is standing right in front of me. Scott is exuding guilt with every word he speaks. He will be the one to break first, I'm positive of that now.

I can't understand why he would feel that way. She's gone now, and as a result of her own actions. But what did Scott say? That they suffered. I'd forgotten about her family.

Did her mother suffer? I know she must have. I can't even imagine what she went through, not even if I imagine losing one of my own children. It must be a thousand times worse than anything I could conceive.

But tragedies happen every day. We are not any more accountable for what happened to her than we are for anything happening anywhere else in the world. The fact that Scott seems to think so worries me greatly. He is on the brink of ruining everything and I can't let that happen.

I can't stop the streets of Edmonton from betraying me but I know I can stop Scott Thornton.

"This is stupid, Todd. I thought this might have been a good idea, but I'm wrong." Jason runs his hands through his hair in frustration. "I thought we could talk and somehow it would help us move on. But all you're doing is saying things we said five years ago. If you want to dwell on the past, go right ahead, but don't drag me along with you."

Jason tells us he's leaving Edmonton tomorrow, then says goodbye and leaves my house. He can leave if he wants. I'm not worried about him. He wants to forget and if I had the luxury of being able to forget I would try to as well.

But he doesn't live in Edmonton. He doesn't have to travel its streets and he doesn't have to sit in his car before he goes anywhere, planning his route carefully beforehand, worrying about whether he will have to make a detour to avoid that intersection.

It's unfair, really, that Scott got out when he did. But obviously he hasn't appreciated his good fortune. He's just spent his time inventing ways to blame himself, and us, for what happened.

I think I need to relieve him of his guilt.

I offer Scott a beer and he accepts, nodding his head slightly. I go into the kitchen and reach for the refrigerator door, but my fingers never touch it. Instead I walk over to the knife rack and pull out the chef's knife. It's a Henckels knife - cold, gleaming and reassuringly sharp. I turn to head back to the living room, and as I do, I catch a glimpse of my face, reflected in the blade.

My face. Faces. Her face. Her dying face. My face. Scott's face. Her face. Her dying face. Scott's dying face.

I put the knife back in the rack, my hands shaking. I don't think I can handle seeing any more faces. Hers alone is more than I can bear.

I bring the beer out to Scott and when he looks up at me, I feel a strange sense of relief to see that his face is alive.

Part 11

I sit up in bed, clenching the sheets and drawing my knees up to my chest, my heart still racing from the nightmare. Sometimes after I wake up, I turn to my side, reaching for Brian, and I panic even more when I don't find him there. And then I remember why he isn't there, and sometimes I start to cry.

I check the time. I can probably give Helena another half hour of sleep before she has to wake up for school. I'm fairly sure she didn't sneak out last night.

That's how it goes, though. She's good for a while, and then sooner or later she starts up again. I remember what she was like when she was younger. She was such a good girl. It was Diana who would give me trouble, hanging around with an older crowd, staying out late, sneaking out. I think she might have been doing drugs, too.

Helena was as obedient as her sister was rebellious. Everyone knew her as a sweet, intelligent girl who loved to make people laugh. It seems like an eternity since she was that girl.

It's my fault she's like this now. I was too wrapped up in my own grief after I lost Brian and Diana. I could barely take care of myself, and I sure as hell didn't take care of her. I wish I could go back in time and take her hand, and tell her I was there for her, and that we would always be there for each other.

But I didn't, and I can regret it until the day I die, but I can never change what happened.

Now that I'm thinking about it though, maybe the way she turned out isn't so bad.

Helena is still my daughter, and somehow I know she loves me as much as I love her. So she might be far from the ideal child as far as society is concerned. That doesn't count for much. She's as bright as she ever was before, and fundamentally she's a good person.

I don't need her to be the best student in class. I don't need her to put on a big fake smile to make everyone else feel better. I don't need her to bite back her opinions just because they might offend somebody.

I just need her to be my daughter.

Things are rough right now but we'll get through it, just like the way we made it through losing them. But this time, I'm going to make damn sure that we'll do it together. I didn't hold her hand back then, but I'm trying to now. She can push me away as much as she wants, but I'll always be standing here, waiting for the day she takes the hand that's offered to her.

I know that day will come, and because I know it, beneath my pain and frustration and worry, I know, rather than feel, that I am happy.

Part 12

I'm not sure how I feel as I watch Scott leave my house, then walk over to his car. The part of me that's optimistic, the part that believes that everything will be fine thinks that Scott will leave Edmonton and things, if not better, at least won't be worse. He will go back to his family and live his life out in quiet, unearned guilt.

The other parts of me are fighting amongst themselves, whispering advice and screaming questions. Don't let him get away. You know he'll tell. Do you want your fate to be completely in his hands? You know he can't be trusted. You should have done it while you still could. You were doing fine. You had the knife in your hand, you just needed to follow through.

Maybe you should get a gun.

What would you do? Call him up? Meet him in some place where you know nobody will see you, and nobody would care even if they did. It's not that hard. And after you're done, take him away and you'll be rid of the worry and the gnawing anxiety that's gripping you now. Well, some of it anyway.

It will be a little harder than it was the last time. After all, people do know who Scott Thornton is. You can't just leave him at an intersection and hope that the streets will swallow him up. I wonder, If you tried to do that, would you bring him back to the same place?

That's nonsense. As if you could ever go back to that place again. You can barely handle being there in your dreams. And all because of something you saw, or rather, something you thought you saw.

It was probably your mind playing tricks on you, you know? Maybe you felt just a little bit guilty, even though you know it wasn't your fault. You couldn't possibly have seen what you thought you did. None of the others saw it. Just a hallucination, brought on by guilt. That's what it was. You're sure of it.

Although ... are you really sure that Doug was right about what he said? You didn't check for yourself, did you? You just trusted that what he said was right. You definitely wanted to believe that he was right.

And if he was right, then that just proves that you couldn't have seen what you thought you did. Sitting in the car, all four of you, encircled by silence, speeding away. You couldn't have seen it. You couldn't have.

But it still haunts you, doesn't it? Commands your dreams and permeates your thoughts? Makes you live your life constantly looking over your shoulder, searching for something to catch up with you? You don't even know what you expect to catch up with you. You only know that feeling of dread that wraps itself like a blanket around you in your dreams, and stays tightly wound around you as you go through your day.

What do you think you know?

After all, only the streets of Edmonton know for sure if you saw her move.

Part 13

Back to Dallas. The place where I can forget. Move on. Move forward. Everything is there. Dina is there. She doesn't know. But she helps. She's learned how to help. She helps me move forward.

I won't be like Todd. Trapped in Edmonton. Trapped in himself. Always worrying. Always afraid. And all of it has pushed him. He's teetering on the edge. Do I care? I don't. Why should I? He cares only for himself. Only sees himself. He becomes the snake that swallows its own tail.

But something gnaws at me. A wisp of a memory. A memory of a friend. Someone I cared for. Someone who cared for me. After all that's happened. Bitterness and bile. I cannot ignore him. I cannot leave him in the snake pit.

I call him. "Hey Scott, are you still at Todd's house?"

"No, I just left. He just kept talking about the same things we talked over after that night. I wasn't getting anywhere with him. You were right. I don't know what I expected." Voice dripping with sorrow, dripping with defeat.

"I think Todd's losing it. Don't go back there and don't see him again. I think he might try to hurt you." I remember. He tried to help. Tried to teach me. I didn't have to bear gifts. Told me I didn't need them. Not those kinds of friends. If only I had listened. None of this would have happened.

"What? Why would you think that?" Weary and shocked. He seems so tired. Maybe he doesn't care. Maybe he wants to be hurt.

"You haven't noticed it? His paranoia? The way he keeps looking at you?" I remember. He tried to help her. He was the only one. We were scared. We took the coward's route. He tried to fight us. Could he have known? The fear that we felt. Barely scratched the surface. We fled from the lion. And backed into the jaws of the dragon.

"Umm, maybe, I don't know. What, you really think he'd do something?" Despair. He's losing it too. But in a different way. He's losing hope.

"Yes, I do. Scott, leave Edmonton as soon as you can. Go home." He once cared for me. Tried to help. Now I must help him.

"Jason, I can't go just yet. I feel like there's something I have to do and I can't leave until I've done it." Resolute. Desperate. Searching. "But I'll stay away from Todd if you say so.

"Okay, stay if you have to. But I'm serious. Don't meet up with Todd again. Promise me." I can feel it. The urgency. The friendship that vanished. Maybe, just maybe. It was actually there all along.

"I won't. Thanks for calling, Jason. And, uhh, it was good seeing you again. I didn't think it would be, but it was. Come see me when you come to San Jose, okay?" Tentative. Shaky. But it's a start.

"Okay, but only if you see me when you come to Dallas. Bye, Scott." I'm relieved. He's not going back. He's safe. He should be safe. There's a seed of doubt. I don't know why. Then I realize. He said it. He's not going to see Todd again. He said it.

But he didn't promise.

Part 14

Jason sounded really concerned for me. I suppose Todd is acting strangely, but then again, aren't we all?

Hearing him over the phone reminded me of the Jason I used to know. The Jason who didn't really know what he wanted from life, and decided to pad it with shiny things and empty people, although I think he realized on some level that he needed more.

I wasn't much older than him, but somehow I always felt responsible for looking out for him. I'm not quite sure why. I think I believed he could be more than he was - more than he is.

And now he seems to think it's his turn to look out for me. What did I say to him? That there was something I had to do in Edmonton? Those words just came out. That thought hadn't really crystallized in my mind until the moment I said it.

Todd keeps telling me it wasn't my fault, that it wasn't any of our faults, but I can't believe that. He called me innocent. I keep replaying the events of that night over and over in my head, to find something, anything, that I could have done. There must have been something. But no matter how hard I try I can't think of a way I could have bought her enough time.

From the moment I heard the three of them arguing in Todd's bedroom, to the moment Jason made me stop the car at that intersection, there really was nothing I could have done that would have made a difference.

But instead of feeling free, I feel more trapped than ever.

If I could just think of one thing, just one thing, that could have made the difference, I would know what I did wrong. I would have a decision that I could look back upon and regret. And maybe I would have the chance to be forgiven for it.

What can I do? Go to her grave and lay down some flowers that will wither and rot into the dust that they are really worth? I can never have her forgiveness. I can never make up for what I did. I lost that chance when she went over to the other side.

But there's someone who's still over here. Someone who doesn't know our secret and she is the one person who should know it.

Would it make a difference to her? That knowledge? I think about Zoe again. I think ... what if it had been her? Would I be comforted by knowing what really happened, instead of going to sleep every night, thinking about her and believing the worst?

I think I would.

And now I know what I have to do before I can leave this city for good.

Part 15

It's been a long day. Helena wasn't home when I came back after work. Actually she didn't come home until midnight. After a week of peace and quiet, I'd hoped that I wouldn't have had to deal with this anymore.

I thought I would be angrier than I was. I just told her to go to bed, and said that I'd talk to her tomorrow. She didn't have anything to say, just smiled apologetically and went to her room without an argument.

I get into bed hesitantly. I don't want to go to sleep tonight. I'm afraid of having that nightmare again. Lately I've been having it more and more often, and it terrifies me each time I do.

The thing that scares me the most about my nightmares isn't the insects. They are strange and alien but they don't seem to bear any malice towards me, except when I try to escape, and even then they seem detached and emotionless when they catch me. They mostly just move around the hive, performing tasks I don't understand.

What scares me the most is the panic of being utterly and completely alone, because that's my greatest fear in life. That's why I worry so much about Helena.

I'm wide awake, so I decide to check on her. I don't really believe that she snuck out again tonight, not after she came home so late, but I just want to look in on her. I open her bedroom door quietly and peer into the room. She's already asleep and she looks so peaceful, the way she used to look before we lost Brian and Diana.

This time when I try to go to sleep, I succeed, and I plunge straight into my nightmare.

*****

I'm in my cell again, and I try to will myself to wake up, but it never works. The insects crawl by, paying no attention to me. Every now and then I see a prisoner walk by, but they don't even look at me.

My cell door opens and the strangest thing happens. A man walks in. Only insects have come in here before. The even stranger thing is, he's looking right at me. And when he opens his mouth to speak, I can understand the words that are coming out of his mouth. "I have to talk to you about your daughter. I was there the night she died."

I'm so shocked by hearing and understanding an actual voice that it takes me a few moments to respond. He looks at me with weary brown eyes as he waits for me to say something. "You want to talk to me ... about ... Diana?"

He frowns at me, as if what I said has caught him off-guard. He shakes his head slowly and answers, "No, not Diana. I'm here to talk to you about Helena."

And I am slowly and completely gripped by the fear that I may never wake up again.

Part 16

She's staring at me, shell-shocked.The doctor told me not to expect any sort of response from her at all, not even an incoherent one. She hasn't talked to anybody since she came to the hospital. He told me to stay alert because sometimes she tries to run and the staff has to sedate her because she won't calm down.

But right now she's just sitting there on her bed, infrequent blinking the only sign that she's alive. I sit down in a chair by the window, not really sure where to begin. All she knows is how and where her daughter was found. Or maybe she knows more than that.

I ask her if she knew about Doug, that he was a friend of Helena's. She remains silent so I tell her about Doug bringing her to the party at Todd's house that night. I tell her about Jason and what he gave to her, and how I don't think he knew how old she was, and that he would never have given it to her if he did.

When I finish telling her about seeing Helena go upstairs with Todd, she says, in a voice that breaks and crumbles, "I always thought her friends were trouble."

She shakes her head and looks down, clasping her fingers together. I continue the story because now that I've started, I really couldn't stop even if I wanted to. I tell her about seeing Doug go upstairs as well. I remember drifting about the party, exchanging meaningless pleasantries and avoiding the eyes and invitations of Doug's other friends. I remember thinking about Todd's wife and child, probably already fast asleep at his wife's parents' house. And I felt a growing need to be at home with Joelle and Nash.

I tell her about going upstairs and hearing the voices arguing in Todd's bedroom as I passed it on the way to the bathroom. Todd, Doug and Jason. I tell her about how I knocked on the door and how they all fell quiet immediately and I knew something was very wrong. I tell her about how I opened the door.

And I tell her what I saw in there.

She shifts in her bed as I describe Helena, as truthfully and as gently as I can. Her ice blue eyes start to thaw, and a small tear escapes the corner of her eye. I close my eyes so I can finish my story. I can't do it looking at her.

I tell her about what I wanted to do - what I should have done. I expected Todd and Doug to say the things they said, arguing for the course of action that would protect them, but I'd hoped that Jason would take my side. He didn't.

Now that I'm articulating the events of that night, squeezing my memories into words, I realize that what I'd always thought of as minutes of inaction, were in fact just moments. The shouting, Jason throwing me against the wall, me pushing him off and picking her up, carrying her downstairs, the three of them following me.

I open my eyes and tell her the rest of it. The tears stream down her face and as I near the end, I brace myself for what I know must follow. I've told her everything and I have to shoulder the blame for my part in this. She might not even fully understand what's going on, but all I need is just a look, a few words or a gesture. Something.

Her tears subside eventually and she turns to look at me, her eyes bright and alert as if she is studying me, and she murmurs something I can't quite catch. I walk over to her and she speaks again, so softly that I can't hear her again. I drop to my knees beside the bed and turn my ear to her lips and she whispers into it.

She says something that I didn't want to hear.

She says something that I needed to hear.

Then she lies back onto her pillow and sighs. "I'm tired now and I have to rest."

As I leave her room I turn back to look at her, already sound asleep, and I can see the barest trace of a smile on her face.

Part 17

I lean back. The drone of the engine calms. The air is dry. I close my eyes. I can hear the swish of clothing. I hate sitting by the aisle. I slip into ...

*****

Flashes of flesh. Glimpses of skin. Streaks of a face. Her face.

*****

... I snap awake. I can never sleep for long. Not on a plane. I feel too disconnected. I am apart. I've never seen that before in my dream. Her face, or any other face.Why did she appear?

Scott. What he's said to me. What he's said about himself. Forcing me to remember. Why did I decide? I was more important than somebody's life.

I have to stop thinking. I don't want to become Scott. I don't need to remember. I need to live. Here and now. I have to focus. I fall into ...

*****

Ruin below. Mustn't land. I know what's below.

*****

... I jolt awake. Damn him. Making me think. Making me remember. Making me regret. Seizures of fear. Fits of violence. Directed against the wrong person. I chose wrongly. I should have chosen Scott. I was too scared. I was too weak.

Am I still weak? I'm older now. I've learned so much. I've changed so much. Or have I? I am always busy. I am building my life. Building my walls. They keep me from falling off the edge. They protect me from below.

So why do I dwell on the past? Like Scott, like Todd. Their memories spread to me like a disease. I can't change what happened. Nobody can. All I can do is live. I know how to do that.

A thought nags me. Born of my new sickness. Is that the right name for what I do? Living. Or is it existing? These thoughts annoy me. I try to push them away. But the harder I try, the more they multiply.

It's all Scott's fault. Irritated as I am. Frustrated as I am. Curse as I might. I cannot be angry.

But I'm safe the way I am. My life moves on. Things aren't easy. But things aren't hard. I have Dina. I have everything I need. I know I do. I am fine the way I am. Scott might not be wrong. But I think he might not be right. I ease into ...

*****

Oh ... yeah ... Waves of musk. Swirls of sweat. Oh ... yeah ... Wisps of hips. Traces of hair. Oh ... yeah ...

Outside the window. Tendrils of guilt. Streams of shame. Waiting for me. Trying to get in. Want to break in. Can't get in. Not in here. My. Plane.

Oh ... yeah ... Frenzied and ripe. Luscious and quick. Oh ... yeah ... More and more. Smells flood me, drug me. Oh ... yeah ... More and more. My plane needs more.

Flying high. Far from below. Sex swims around me. Skin and lips. Taut and tight. Oh ... yeah ... oh ... yeah ... oh ... yeah ...

Part 18

He didn't want to come at first when you asked him, over the phone. You see? He's trying to avoid you. He has something to hide. He's uneasy and he's going to break down and he will tell them everything. It will all be ruined. Aren't you satisfied with your decision now?

But you told him something you shouldn't have, didn't you? Yes, you were getting desperate, trying to think of a way to convince him to come. But still, not a very smart move. Why give him more information that he could use to get you into even more trouble?

At the same time, it's good that you told him, because now you're locked in. You have to do it now. You can't back out like you did before, when you had the chance to take care of things. It's far too dangerous to let him talk to anyone about what he knows.

Especially after you heard the change in his voice when you told him she was still alive.

He comes to the door and the first thing you notice is how he doesn't look quite so dead anymore. He doesn't bother to greet you as he follows you into the living room. The first thing he says is, "Are you serious, Todd? She was still alive? After we left her there? You're sure you saw her move?"

There's a horror in his voice so pure and primal that it startles me. What's going on? If I can't bear the death of a life I didn't take, how can I go through with this? How can I do it? I nod in response to Scott, slowly and stiffly.

"Fuck, Todd, how could you have kept this from us? And why didn't you say anything? We could have gone back, we could have ..." His voice shatters into choked sobs, and I'm immersed in his sorrow, a sorrow that starts to become mine.

He sits down in an armchair, sinking deeply into it, and holds his face in his hands. He swallows and says, "This afternoon, I went to see Helena's mother. I told her what happened and she ..."

He told.

You don't hear the rest of what he says because it all fades into a bubble of indistinct noises. You go into your kitchen and you draw the Henckels knife from the rack, and it's as biting and confident as you remember. You walk back into the living room, knife held behind your back as Scott looks up at you, a questioning look on his face.

And just like that, in a moment that lasts both an eternity and an instant, you are next to him and you have struck. He is surprised, but he is fast enough to raise his arms in defense. You open him up, the gash in his forearm spilling a crimson sacrifice to the city. A life for the life that seeped into the streets five years ago. But as you see the blood dripping to the floor, you realize that the city doesn't find this sacrifice acceptable.

So you turn the knife on yourself.

Part 19

Todd Marchant

I wander the streets of Edmonton, cold and barefoot. I have been walking for hours and days and months and years, and my feet are blistered and black. I leave bloody footprints behind me and they vanish quickly, eagerly lapped up by the concrete.

It seems that my sacrifice is more than acceptable.

The sky is never quite light and never quite dark. It's frozen in an eternal twilight that bathes Edmonton in a timelessness that makes it hard to gauge how long I've been here.

This might be torment if not for the fact that I am not alone.

I feel the soft hand in mine and my eyes trace their way up her arm to glance at her face. She walks faster as we near our destination. I no longer feel the dread I used to whenever I came close to this place. It is a beginning now, not an end.

Helena and I reach the intersection and with our last step, we complete our journey and we disappear.

*****

"Honey, it's kicking. Do you want to feel it?" Caroline smiles at me, placing my hand gently on her swollen belly.

I move my head there as well, pressing my ear against her to listen to my unborn child. We didn't want to know the sex of our child. We want to be surprised.

I like the idea of endless possibilities and potential, and our first baby is the ultimate representation of that.

I can hardly wait.

Jason Arnott

On a plane. My. Plane. Stutters and skips. Can't keep up. Can't keep flying. Bodies shimmer and evaporate. Fuel runs out. Lower and lower. Mustn't land. Can't land. Below rushes up. A jolt, a shudder.

I am below.

Outside the window. Helena is standing there. On the ground.

And it's all right.

******

Dina stirs slightly. I am awake. I am here. I am all right.

No more running. No more hiding. I have to face up to me. What I've done. What I haven't done. I need this. I need to remember.

When I move. I have to go somewhere. I have to stop running in place. I've tried that for too long. It only delays. It doesn't change, it doesn't end.

I need a friend. I call Scott. He listens. He understands.

We remember.

Scott Thornton

My feet pad softly on the blasted ground as I walk to the trapdoor that leads into the oubliette. The wasted moon shines a path directly to it and in no time at all I am standing in front of it. The dusky, translucent things gather around me, but I feel no fear because I finally know what they are.

One by one, they glide to the spot where the moon is brightest and I watch as its rays pierce and illuminate their features - my features - before the shadows dissipate into nothingness.

The moon becomes brighter and purer with every shadow it destroys, as if it's being cleansed. There's more light now, and I can see Helena standing in the distance looking at me. I think I can make out the hint of a smile.

Then she turns and walks away.

*****

I wake up and look out the window. The moon is shining, heavy and full, bathing our bedroom in a gentle, dewy light. It looks right.

My arm itches and when it's fully healed there will be a scar. I am glad that I will have a reminder.

I turn to face Joelle and kiss her hair softly so I don't wake her, and go back to sleep.

In the morning, I will take my family out for a hike. Zoe will sit on my shoulders when she is too tired to walk, and Nash will let go of his mother's hand and run forward, trying not to trip and stumble in his haste to overtake me.

And when he goes too far ahead and I have to hurry after him, and pick him up and tell him not to do that, I will look at his face, and the only feeling I will have for him will be an overwhelming sense of love.

=====

Todd
Hurt, Nine Inch Nails

i wear this crown of shit
upon my liar's chair
full of broken thoughts
i cannot repair
beneath the stains of time
the feelings disappear
you are someone else
i am still right here

Jason
Airplane, Indigo Girls

Up on the airplane
Nearer my God to thee
I start making a deal
Inspired by gravity
If I did wrong I won't do it again
Cause I can be sweet and good and nice
And if I had enemies their friends
I'll hold on to my life with the grip of a vice

Scott
My Own Prison, Creed

The walls are cold and pale
The cage made of steel
Screams fill the room
Alone I drop and kneel
Silence now the sound
My breath the only motion around
Demons cluttering around
My face showing no emotion
Shackled by my sentence
Expecting no return
Here there is no penance
My skin begins to burn

Epilogue

I haven't dreamed in five years.

I didn't really notice it at first. Helena had just died, and that was all I could think about for months.

Then one night, almost a year later, Allison woke up screaming and thrashing in the wake of a nightmare. I kissed her and comforted her, and as we both settled back into bed and tried to fall asleep again, I tried to remember if I'd ever had a nightmare that bad, and I realized that I hadn't had a nightmare in a long time.

I hadn't had any dreams at all since that night.

Then I got that letter from Todd. After those first few months of thinking about Helena at least a hundred times a day, I'd stopped thinking about her completely. It's horrible, I know, but I just ... forgot. Went on with my life.

And then I received that letter. And I didn't want to remember. I didn't want to think about her again. So I didn't go to Edmonton.

I got that phone call from Scott. I yelled at him and hung up.

I heard the news about Todd. I started to wonder.

And I started dreaming again.

*****

This is how my dream begins ...

THE END