***
After rereading only the first entry, I close the book again. Remembering the fear is too much. Just as Katie did, when I woke up from the first dream, I thought it was simply a nightmare, a vision of me living a different life entirely. Then the second dream came the next night where I saw what I again thought was myself being dragged away from the little town toward the towering city. Then came the washing and painting.
With every new dream I believed less and less that I was seeing myself in those nightmares. The feeling I got from them was no vague fear of the unknown, it was a pinpointed warning. And there was nothing new in Katie’s account. She saw exactly what I saw. I’ve gone over those dreams so many times trying to figure them out, but it is no use. Leaving the book on the coffee table, I go to look for my grandpa. Maybe he found something useful.
Sitting on the floor of his guest room, my grandpa is staring at photos of his daughter. He has a lot more than my mom did. Katie on one of the horses she loved so much. Katie building a sand castle at the beach. Katie graduating from elementary school. Katie posing with a group of friends. Her cheerful smile shines brightly in every one of them. I wondered what she looked like during that last week. Did her smile fade just as her life was about to?
Suddenly, my grandpa realizes I am standing behind him and sets the photos back down.
“Are you hungry?” I ask. “I could use a break.”
It doesn’t take much to convince him to abandon the books and go have a sandwich with me in the kitchen. I know it is difficult for him to be dragging all of this back up. No doubt he has searched through everything in his house to find some way to end this, but he wants to search it all again. I want to believe I will find something in the books, but what could Katie have known that I don’t? In the end, the headache caused by hours of reading the looping handwriting convinces us both to stop.
The meal is simple, turkey and cheese on wheat bread, but I savor it. Beginning to feel like every move I make might be my last, I push myself to enjoy every second to the fullest. My grandpa, on the other hand, eats his sandwich as if he barely even tastes it. The silent kitchen is abruptly disturbed by a hesitant knock. My grandpa comes back to the present and looks around the room. He glances out the kitchen window, looking into the street. A late model Chevy pickup is parked at the curb.
“I wonder who that could be,” he says.
“Oh, shoot,” I exclaim, “I totally forgot he was coming.”
“A friend of yours?”
“Yeah. I kind of forgot we made plans for today,” I admit. Standing up, I brush the crumbs from my sandwich off my pant legs. Hurriedly, I scoop the pictures and papers I brought with me off the table and into my backpack. Shouldering the bag, I turn back to my grandpa and hesitate.
“Do you want me to tell him you’re not here?” he asks, looking a little unsure about what he’s proposing.
“No, Grandpa, it’s fine. But would you call my mom and let her know where I’m going?”
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Um.” I hesitate. “Archery lessons. But please don’t mention that part to her. She’ll have a fit.” I move toward the front door.
“Arra,” he says disapprovingly.
“Grandpa, I’ll be perfectly safe, don’t worry. Just tell Mom I’m with Tanner Wheeler, okay?”
“Alright, but if she finds out, I’ll say I didn’t know a thing,” he says, giving in with a smile and a brief shake of his head.
The knock comes again, a little louder. My grandpa finally opens the door. “Good afternoon, Tanner. How’s your mother doing?”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Malo. She’s just fine, sir. Uh, is Arra here?” Tanner asks awkwardly.
This is a new side of Tanner I haven’t seen before. So full of confidence the last two times I have seen him, I watch him fiddle with a stray string on his jeans pocket. I want to laugh at the thought of my sweet old grandpa making anybody nervous. He is much more likely to force cookies on someone than do anything even close to intimidating. My mood lifts slightly, just enough to make me glad I didn’t ditched out on the date.
“Why yes she is, young man. Come on in,” my grandpa says. The kind smile he gives Tanner shows no hint that he thinks the young man’s behavior is at all funny. He pulls the door open a little wider.
Straightening my clothes, I swat at few straggling breadcrumbs before stepping around the corner. “Hey, Tanner. Thanks for picking me up.”
“Sure,” he replies. His eyes drift toward my grandpa. He doesn’t seem to know whether he is required to stay for a few minutes to be polite, or if he can leave without embarrassing himself.
I consider prolonging his uncertainty, but can’t bring myself to do it. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” he says, his expression changing to one of relief. “It was nice to see you again, Mr. Malo.”
“You too, Tanner. Tell your mom hello for me.”
“Don’t forget to call my mom,” I remind him.
“Just be careful, or we’ll both be in trouble with her,” my grandpa says seriously.
I nod my agreement and head for Tanner’s truck.