“Wow,” Stevie said. “It’s awesome. One of the coolest stones I’ve ever seen. Where did you find it?”
“That’s the weirdest part of all.” He paused and caught his breath. “First, I need to start at the beginning. Do you remember a few days ago, what happened on the bus …?”
***
Emi slipped into her favorite bathrobe. It was one size too large, bright pink, with more ruffles than she cared for, but it had been a Christmas gift from her husband and she’d come to cherish it.
She remembered her anticipation as she unwrapped the box and saw the “Enchanted” logo of her favorite lingerie designer, as well as her surprise when she opened the box and saw a robe that was more fluff than satin. Oh, boy,” she told herself. “Just smile and look thrilled. Joel’s heart was in the right place, but when it came to important matters such as perfumes and bathrobes, he was a man out of his element—a true fish out of water.
“Try it on, Mom,” the boys urged. “Come on, try it on.”
She remembered how embarrassed Joel looked when she did, and how the boys nearly laughed themselves into a frenzy. The sleeves hung past her hands and it was a foot too long in length.
“Look, Josh,” Daniel said. “Mom’s an Ewok.”
But she refused to let Joel exchange it for something more “Emi.” The robe had been the brunt of many jokes over the years, but it was now one of her most treasured possessions and she couldn’t imagine replacing it with another.
Emi took a towel, wrapped it around her hair and neatly tucked it in place. There was nothing worse than wet hair hanging on her neck. She scattered sea salt into the warm water, let it dissolve, and released her favorite bath oil—mulberry—into the tub. As she sat on the edge, waiting for the water to rise, she thought she heard something in her bedroom. She leaned over, peering through the opening of the bathroom door, but the room remained quiet and undisturbed.
She thought of Daniel and the complete wreck this day had been, and her muscles tensed. She turned off the water and stepped into the tub. “Can I have a do-over on this day, please?” she said, as she lay in the water. Resting her head on the sponge pillow, she closed her eyes, letting herself escape into a world more serene.
Emi was able to think more clearly during these moments, when her body and mind were relaxed and pulsing in symmetry with the other. She was able to reflect upon a time when the days were easier, when she and Joel made their decisions together, as a team. There was strength to this unity and she longed for it again. Their life together hadn’t been a fairytale—there were tremendous growing pains—but they’d learned to live together and sacrifice for the other.
Before their wedding, Emi experienced cold feet and, for a moment, considered calling it off. She was terrified, feeling completely unprepared for what she was getting into, and questioned if she needed more time. It was her friend Sherrill who gave her the best advice anyone could have given: “It’s going to be like learning to drive on I-5 during rush hour with a stick shift. You’ll figure it out. It will be bumpy, but you’ll get there together.”
Those words stuck with her after all these years. It had definitely been bumpy, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way. Those bumpy times were when she and Joel leaned most on each other. It was during those times they shared the greatest joy.
There was no other life she would have wanted.
She never contemplated anything happening to Joel. He was the strongest man she’d ever known. It wasn’t a physical strength but a strength of character. She’d never met anyone with such passion and perseverance. Joel was crazy about boxing and would often relate it to life. “Boxers aren’t extraordinary men,” he said. “They are ordinary men with extraordinary determination.” To Joel, the difference between a good boxer and a great one was not talent; it was the desire to get off the mat that final time, while the opponent stays down. That was real courage, he argued.
But yet, that courage and determination could not save him.
Emi winced; it was a painful thought. She thought they would always be together, raising their children, building a future, seeing their grandchildren born—spoiling those grandchildren rotten when they came to visit.
And to have it all taken away by such a random, freak acci—
She didn’t finish the thought. A more haunting one replaced it, one that caused her to sit upright with panic.
“It’s not possible,” she said, resisting the memory flooding back to her. It was a memory that had remained dormant for years but now paralyzed her as she recalled every word, movement, and fear from that evening six years ago—the first of Daniel’s night terrors.
Occurring in two percent of children, a child suffering from a night terror will wake suddenly from slow-wave sleep, gasping and screaming with fear. It is impossible to fully awaken a child during one of these episodes. The child, once the terror subsides, will settle back to sleep and rarely have any memory of the experience.
***
She remembered the time down to the exact minute—11:09 p.m.
Joel was away for a training seminar in Sacramento. They agreed it was a seminar he ought to attend, but it meant she’d have to take care of the kids and home by herself, and it had been an exhausting week. 11:09 p.m. It was amazing how the smallest details were coming back to her. She heard Joshua calling her name. “Mommy, Mommy,” he yelled, tugging at her arm to wake her. “Mommy, Mommy!”
Joshua made a habit out of sneaking into their bedroom at night and crawling into bed with them. He was usually quiet, and she was annoyed he was making such a fuss tonight. Can’t I just once get a full night’s sleep? Is that too much to ask? Then she saw his face and knew something was wrong. “Joshua, what is it? Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.”
“Daniel. It’s Daniel, Mommy!”
She sprang from her bed and was heading for the door when she heard the screams, bloodcurdling cries that made her heart skip a beat.
Daniel was sitting straight up in his bed, eyes wide open and gasping for breath. Emi pulled him into her arms, hoping to stop the screams. “Daniel, wake up,” she pleaded. “Daniel, baby, wake up. What’s wrong?” He violently shook free from her grasp, gulping air as he shrieked.
Joshua panicked. “Mommy, help Daniel!”
“Joshua,” she said. “Go get me the telephone and a wet washcloth from the bathroom.” He looked at her with wide eyes. “Now, Joshua. Bring me the phone and a wet washcloth.” She felt Daniel’s pulse; it was racing at least twice a normal rate, and Emi had to fight back tears. Oh, God, what do I do? Her boy was dying for all she knew and she didn’t how to help him. “What do I do?” she screamed. “How do I save my son?”
She calmed herself. It did no good for her to yell, also. “Daniel, please talk to me. It’s Mother. Daniel, can you hear me?” But his cries continued, as Joshua returned. Fearing he’d have a seizure, Emi held the phone tightly in her hand, ready to call 911 at the first sign of drooling or jerking.
“Joshua, I want you to clear all the toys off the floor right now. I don’t want anything on the floor that your brother could trip on.”
It was then that Daniel grew still and his cries faint. If Emi had any hope of the nightmare ending, it was dashed when she saw his face. In her son’s eyes, Emi saw a vacant stare that looked right through her without any recognition. Her first thought was of the “calm before the storm”—that lull, the one that seems momentarily peaceful but always precedes the harshest of squalls.
“Joshua, I told you to pick up these toys. Do it now, Joshua! I don’t want to see any toys left on the floor.”
In that moment, she would have given anything in the world to trade places with Daniel, so he wouldn’t have to hurt like he was hurting, so he wouldn’t have to go through the nightmare. She wondered what was going on in his head right then.
Had she been able to trade places with him in that moment, she would have seen the wet grass and fallen branches on the la
wn. She would have felt the chill of the early morning air and given a slight shiver, as the wind struck her bare skin. Perhaps she would have asked herself why she was up at this hour in the morning, when the sun was still asleep and darkness blanketed the horizon.
Had she been able to enter Daniel’s nightmare, she would have seen her husband step outside, wearing his work clothes, carrying his satchel and coffee mug. She’d have seen him open the door of a muddy pickup truck and climb in, but not before he turned back to the house and saw Joshua standing at the picture window in the den, frowning, on the verge of tears. She’d have seen Joel wave goodbye to his youngest son, who in turn, raised his hand and placed it against the window.
But she couldn’t trade places with him, and all she heard was Daniel asking his father where he was going and why he was leaving the house so early in the morning.
Had Emi the ability to travel outside of herself and into the dream taking place in her son’s mind, she would have seen her husband take a long drink from his coffee and spill some on the dashboard. She would have heard him mumble, as he fumbled to find a napkin, and she’d have felt the bumpiness of the ride, as the bucket-of-bolts he was driving desperately required a tune-up.
She would have seen him adjust the radio dial until he found his classic rock station, and perhaps she would have smiled, remembering their playful tugs-of-war over the radio settings. She was a pink dress, leather-seat sedan, Chopin Concerto in E Minor kind of girl. He, on the other hand, was all t-shirt and blue jeans, pickup trucks and rock ‘n roll. But she couldn’t trade places with her son, and all she saw was Daniel sitting on the bed, asking his father why he was turning onto the two-lane highway at the outskirts of town.
Were she able to see inside her son’s mind, perhaps she would have laughed as her husband began air-guitarring and singing out of tune with the song on the radio. “Every man fancies himself a rock star,” she might have joked. She’d have scoffed when the disc jockey came on the air with the weather report for the day— “We’re looking at a high of sixty-four degrees in beautiful Grisby today”—as she always thought they were a little pretentious with their fake, deep voices.
She probably would have told her husband that the oncoming car was blinking its lights to tell him to turn off his high beams. She would have fought the temptation to play backseat driver and tell him to be more careful and watch the road, as the highway was winding and narrow. Then she would have seen the truck approaching, and would have recognized it instantly. Instead, she could only listen to her son yelling, “Watch out, Dad, a big Lincoln truck!”
Had Emi been granted her wish and switched places with Daniel during those few seconds in time, she would have seen her husband pinned and unable to move, trapped beneath the crumpled pieces of steel, his body broken and spirit quickly fading. She would have screamed in horror, as her son did now.
That was the end of it. The nightmare was over. Daniel sat in the bed, sobbing. Emi couldn’t stand it any longer. She reached out to hold him and he collapsed in her arms. She felt his breathing slowly return to normal and, checking his pulse, gave a huge sigh of relief. She lay beside him and wiped his brow with a wet cloth.
Daniel grew still; his eyes shut and he fell asleep. She put his head on the pillow and gently tucked him in. Looking up, she saw Joshua standing in the closet. He was holding some toys in his hand and crying.
“Joshua, what is it? Sweetheart, come here.”
“I’m scared, Mommy. I’m scared Daddy’s hurt.”
She took him in her arms. “Daddy’s fine, sweetheart. Your brother had a terrible dream, but your daddy’s fine.”
“I’m scared, Mommy. I’m scared for Daddy.”
She hugged him tightly, kissed him on top of the head and reached for the phone. “We’re going to call Daddy to make sure everything is okay. How does that sound?”
“Okay,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Let’s call him.”
Emi called the hotel in Sacramento. Though she knew it had been a dream, she was relieved when Joel answered on the second ring. She briefly filled him in on what happened and handed the phone to Joshua.
“Hello,” Joshua said, still choking back tears.
“Hey, buddy,” spoke the familiar voice on the other end of the phone. “I heard you were worried about me.”
Joshua sounded less than convinced. “Are you okay, Daddy?”
“Of course, I’m okay. Your brother was having a bad dream. But I’m fine; we’re all fine. I’ll be home tomorrow night. Okay, Joshua?”
The final tears passed and Joshua wiped them away. “Okay.”
“I want you to listen to your mother and do what she tells you, okay? I love you, Joshua. I can’t wait to see you.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
Emi said goodnight to Joel and hung up the phone. “Now do you believe that Daddy is safe and sound?”
“I guess so.”
“Come here,” she said, taking him by the shoulders and rubbing his arms. She noticed he was still holding his toys. “What are those,” she asked, looking at the small wooden pieces in his hand.
“You told me to pick up Daniel’s toys. These are his logs … his Lincoln logs.”
***
Emi had almost forgotten that she was sitting in a bathtub full of water that had turned lukewarm. A floodgate had opened and the images came pouring through the recesses of her memory. These are his logs … his Lincoln logs.
The connection was there, if only she could stave it off longer until she was stronger and more able to deal with it. But she knew there was no denying the memory.
***
“Joshua, can you turn off the vacuum cleaner?” She heard the phone ring but couldn’t hear the voice on the other end with the vacuum running.
“What? I can’t hear you!”
“The vacuum.” She pointed. “Turn off the vacuum.”
“Hello,” she answered, holding the phone in one hand, dusting rag and spray in the other.
“There’s been an accident out on the Bellflower Highway. Your husband was driving one of the vehicles involved ...”
Her world went silent.
“Emi, Joel’s in the hospital. He’s in critical condition …”
She dropped the can of spray to the floor. It landed with a soft thud. Unable to speak, she could only listen.
“It was a bad wreck, Emi. The other vehicle was a large truck, a logging truck.”
The words echoed and she couldn’t make them stop. How had Daniel seen the accident, with exact detail, six years earlier? She was no longer conscious of her movements and failed to realize she’d released the drain of the bath and the water level was slowly sinking. The memories she’d tried to suppress since her husband’s death seized her, and there was no stopping them.
***
Why did hospitals always appear so cold, so sterile? She wondered if there was any other appearance they could have. Perhaps there’s no way to give a cheerful tone to sickness and death. She almost broke down when she saw him. Tubes fed him life, arteries of wires connected to his broken body. She turned away and wiped her eyes. She didn’t want him to see her crying.
His words came in interrupted fragments. “Emi,” he said.
“I’m right here.” She softly touched his hand.
“I don’t know what happened, Emi.” He managed to smile. “You always said my truck was an accident on wheels.”
Confused by the bitter-sweetness of her emotions, Emi found herself laughing at her husband’s joke while giving in to the urge to weep at his side. She blurted out, crying in between the words, “When you get out of here, I’m picking out the next vehicle. And it won’t be a beat-up truck.”
He traced his one moveable finger along the skin of her hand. His speech was slow and labored. “It’s a deal.”
“I need to tell you some things,” he said, “and I want you to listen.”
She wrapped her hand around his and leaned closer as he spoke.
“Emi, we’ll get through this. I promise.” Tears fell from Emi’s face and landed on his bruised arm. She wiped them off. “Leave them,” he said. “It lets me catch a glimpse of your heart.
“When I think back on my life, and my past, it’s always your face I see. When I think of my future, it’s always with you.” His speech trailed off, but he finished his final thought. “My life began when I met you.”
Even then, during a moment of intense pain, his words threw a blanket over her shivering soul. His words always had that effect on her. When she was tired, he spoke words of encouragement to her; when she was scared, he soothed her with words of hope; and when she was sad, he gave her comfort in the midst of sorrow.
***
Emi sat naked in the empty bathtub, weeping, left with more questions than answers, most of which centered around her son’s dream from six years earlier describing the Bellflower Highway and her husband’s head-on collision with a logging truck.
She was interrupted by shouting. “Mom!” It was her youngest son’s voice. “Mom!”
“Joshua, what is it?”
“Mom!”
“Hold on, Joshua. I’ll be right out.” She quickly dried off and put on her robe. “Joshua, is everything okay?” she asked, stepping out of the bathroom. She immediately saw it was not. Her son stood in the doorway; the color had vanished from his face. “Joshua, what’s wrong?”
But he remained silent, his body quivering like he’d been pulled from icy waters. Emi knelt beside him. “Joshua, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.”
“I’m scared. I have a bad feeling.” He lifted his shaking hands. “It hurts really, really bad.”
She took his hands. “Can you tell me why, Joshua? Can you explain what you’re feeling?”
“I can’t explain it because I don’t know what it is. But something’s wrong.”
After what she’d just experienced, she decided not to dismiss Joshua’s feelings so easily. “Where’s Daniel?” she asked. Joshua looked away from her and kept quiet. “Joshua,” she repeated. “Where’s your brother?”
“I don’t know,” he said, pursing his lips tightly—a dead giveaway.
“Don’t lie to me, Joshua.”
The boy unraveled. Secrecy was not his winning hand. “I don’t know where he went. He said he would crush me like a soda can if I told on him.”