Authors: Donna Galanti
Laura faced the lake to say goodbye. She would leave for college in a few days. And her whole world would change. This past week she went back and forth from feeling excited to scared to nervous. After being home schooled she had grown used to being alone in her own world. There had been some kids she hung out with through the home school association, but she never had any desire to see them outside of home school events.
And then of course, there was Mr. B. He had slowed down a bit this summer, as if old age had now decided to settle in. At seventy-nine she had to admit he did look old. It didn't matter. He was her best friend. He hadn't laughed as much since Scooter died many years ago. She suggested he get a new dog but he refused. She understood that Scooter had been one of the few things in his life still connected to his wife, so he had special meaning. Laura also understood you can't replace such a thing.
She stared out at the lake, leaning against her rock by the shore. Her mind raced with all she had to do before leaving for New Paltz University. She thought of all the cool college things she would encounter. Boys, parties and friends. What if she couldn't find her classes on the gigantic campus? What if she hated her roommate? She would have to hide her special powers. She didn't want people to see her as a freak. She just wanted to fit in. Would she?
Mr. B told her not to worry about such things. Worrying is a waste of time, he said. Just jump in and be yourself, he told her, and all will work out. Thank goodness she had gotten a scholarship to pay for most of her tuition. Her parents didn't have much. And it was only an hour away. An hour wasn't so far. But an hour could change her world. She could come home anytime. Right?
She smoothed down her long hair and stood up to stretch her arms out wide. She wasn't a tomboy anymore, but it didn't mean she liked the way she looked. She wished she had a bigger chest, her nose wasn't so turned up, and she wasn't so tall. Laura's long legs helped her tower over Mr. B and her parents. Mr. B told her that wasn't such a great feat as he was shrinking by the inch every year. He said she had become an old-fashioned beauty. When she asked him what he meant, he just said she had grace and style, and that with her big brown eyes and lively wit she could charm anyone.
She might never know where she got her height and looks from. But she hoped to someday. She still had hope a relative would come forward looking for her natural mother, Sarah, and find Laura instead. When she felt alone and unsure of herself she would visit the crater at the end of the lake and place her hands on the earth. Then she would feel connected to this someone who had crashed there all those years ago. In feeling his sadness it made her feel not so alone. To her, they were sad together.
She had covered every foot of the crater over the years hoping to sense new information, but never got more than her initial vision of the strange, sad man and the girl whose face she couldn't see.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to force away the headache coming on. She still hadn't outgrown them and learned to suffer through them. They remained unpredictable and so she accepted them as part of her.
She breathed deep again taking in the smells and sounds of her lake. Even Mr. B called it Laura's Lake. A smooth cacophony rose of cicada saws, crow echoes, rustling leaves, and the tapping of a lonesome woodpecker. It all blended with the smell of sun burnt grass. This would be her last sunrise for a while here.
She picked up her notebook and wrote. She wrote and wrote and not just describing the sunrise, for she had written hundreds of sunrises over the years. She wrote about how the lake came to be her home, her friend, her place to be her true self. It was her goodbye.
A car driving fast down the dirt road toward the lake disrupted her writing. She threw her notebook in her backpack and headed toward the overgrown parking lot. Who could be speeding in here at 6:30 a.m.? Mr. B's rusted Jeep bounced down the rutted road and shuddered to a stop in front of her.
"Laura, come on," he yelled out the window. "Sheriff Barnes just called me. There's a fire at your house."
She ran for the car and jumped in, leaving her bike leaning on the big rock. "Like the fire alarm went off from something burning on the stove?" Laura's lip trembled and she tried to blink back the tears that filled her eyes.
Jim slammed his foot on the accelerator, kicking up dust along the dirt road, and headed toward her house. They both smacked their heads on the roof. "Sorry about that," he said, then cleared his throat. "No, honey, I don't think so."
"Why? What did the Sheriff say?"
Jim's knobby hands gripped the wheel. "He said someone drove by and saw flames shooting out of the top windows and called the fire department. The fire truck is on its way there."
"But my parents…I left them asleep upstairs. Saturday is the one day they sleep in."
Laura looked at the trees flying by as they sped along. Jim put his hand on hers. She looked down and grasped it. His old hand looked like a carved piece of wood an artist had been working on for years and kept etching new lines into it.
"What if they were still asleep?"
She rocked herself as they neared her house.
"For all we know, they could have gotten out of the house."
"You don't believe that," Laura cried. "I know what you're thinking. I am too."
They heard sirens in the distance. Jim sped up as they reached the turn to her house. An acrid smell filled the air and they came around the corner to a fiery scene. Flames shot out of the first and second floors of the farmhouse reaching for the sky. Its angry inferno crackled through blackened wood. The windows glared a jack-o-lantern orange with black, thick smoke pouring out. The wrap-around porch still stood intact but then with a shriek the wood gave way. The porch rails splintered and smashed down.
Two firefighters sprayed the flames with water sucked from the pond to no avail. Their attempts made the fire angrier as the flames grew taller, spouting from every crevice. A second fire truck pulled in the shale driveway behind them, its sirens blaring as it wailed to a stop spewing rocks from its large tires.
Laura leapt from the Jeep, before Jim could roll to a stop, and ran toward the house. The ferocious heat hit her with a blast and a firefighter grabbed her.
"Wait! Stop, Miss!"
"It's my home! My parents are in there. You've got to save them!"
"We're trying but we can't get into the house yet. The fire's too fierce. I've never seen a blaze so explosive. If they're in there, we won't know until we get this more under control. Hang on!"
He held her to his chest and waved over the other firefighters coming from the second truck. Laura clutched his jacket and sensed his goodness, warmth, and sympathy. She wanted to hide in his wet, smoky jacket for a long while and feel everything would be okay.
"Please get in there soon," Laura whispered. The firefighter nodded and patted her back. Jim came to her side. The firefighter released her with a grim face and barked out more orders to the others. Another emergency helper brought them blankets and water.
Jim and Laura watched as the bottom floor windows exploded. The second floor windows had already blown out. Then with a wrenching screech the top of the house caved in. Only black timbers were left behind, pointing toward the sky in jagged spears. Jim pulled Laura back further to the road. The heat seared them in its growing intensity eating through the wood like a hungry savage. Flames engulfed the house. They watched it crumble completely and disappear into smoky rubble.
Jim squeezed her hand
.
The firefighters still hosed down the house shouting out instructions. Laura turned away. She didn't want to see her parents' burnt bodies through the dissipating smoke. She hoped they weren't in there. Maybe they left early to go to the store and get chicken feed or out to breakfast at the bakery in town…or something.
Cars now lined the road to watch the blaze destroying her home. People leaned through their car windows and stood on the side of the road shaking their heads and pointing. Shock stole over Laura. An hour ago she left here on her bike to say goodbye to her lake while her parents slept in their beds. All she had lived in this house. She believed it would always be here. And now it was all gone in one hour. If she hadn't gone to the lake she would have been here to save them.
"I can go back home and call someone for you, Laura," Jim said. "Who can I call?"
"No one. There is no one."
They had been a family unit of three strong and while they had ties to the community they stayed to themselves. They had been everything to each other, but at least Laura had Mr. B too. She was grateful for him. She wiped her face, streaked with charcoal smudges from ash and tears, and squeezed Mr. B's hand back, trying to draw strength from him.
Then she saw him. The man in black. He stood hidden in the trees behind the gawkers. He wasn't pointing to the house or talking to bystanders. He stared at Laura with his bright green eyes. His hands were shoved into his pockets as he hunched down. His black jeans and T-shirt stood out in comparison to the colorful summer clothes of the onlookers. But something was strange about him too. A pale glow outlined his body and he swayed in waves, as an image being projected on an outdoor movie screen moving in the breeze.
She ran from Mr. B toward the man screaming. "Who are you? Why me? Did you do this?"
The other people stopped talking to stare at her too. Then the man in black vanished. In a blink of her eye he just disappeared. She collapsed on the ground crying. Mr. B picked her up and held her. She broke free and ran over to the Fire Chief who was instructing his crew.
"When are you going in?"
"Just now, Miss. Please, stay back. This fire could re-ignite or cause an explosion."
The firefighters had doused most of the flames and moved toward the house. An acrid, burnt smell poured out of the scorched remains of Laura's childhood home. She hid her head in Jim's jacket and waited. After a while she looked up. The Chief walked toward them. He shook his head.
"We found two people. A man and a woman. I'm so sorry."
Jim hugged her harder. Two other firefighters carried out two long things with sheets over them. Laura doubled over with a cramp and holding her stomach, she stood up.
"I want to see."
Jim nodded. The Chief took her arm and helped her through the broken wood and glass and metal. All the things making up her life lay strewn and twisted in a smoking mass grave. Laura stood over the two sheets and the Chief lifted the top covers. It couldn't be them. She told herself she would never remember them like this. She forced herself to stare. She owed it to them. Tears flowed down her cheeks but she didn't make a sound. Then the stench overcame her and she turned away to gag.
"They may have been asleep and succumbed to the smoke before the fire got to them. We won't know until the coroner sees them."
Laura nodded and stumbled back to Mr. B to fall on her knees. A keening sound came from her like a wild animal. She wailed in grief, hugging her sides and rocked. Mr. B knelt with her. She sensed his love and anguish flow into her. His tears mixed with hers on the ground. With her powers she still couldn't save her parents.
She vowed from then on she would forget her powers and never use them again. And she would find this man in black. In the dark abyss of her grieving mind she also vowed she would leave this place and never come back again.
Ben stood on the balcony and overlooked Waikiki Beach under the stars, breathing in the tropical air floating around him. It carried the intoxicating warmth of sea air, burning tiki lamps, and floral scents. Mixed together it would make any traveler feel excited to be here in the land of luaus, leis, and lava flows.
To his left stretched the lights of Waikiki leading to Diamond Head, rising in a crooked wave under the moon. To his right stretched a string of hotels filled with tourists and their dreams of Hawaii. And in front of him spread out the Pacific Ocean, sparkling black in the night and lapping at the shore where couples held hands and kissed.
Ben turned back to his room to unpack, feeling cynical in his candy-cane view of this place. He pitied the blinded tourists who came here to capture the romance of the islands. They saw the gloss, not the bile beneath. He almost didn't take this assignment due to the location, but seven years was long enough to try and forget. At twenty-eight, none of it belonged to his life now. He could be a tourist now too. He pushed his bangs aside, and stared at his red-rimmed gray eyes in the mirror. His eyes now matched the gray that had crept into his black hair years ago.
Tiredness hit him in waves. He felt the effects of the long flight here from Florida. But how different it was from his old Florida days. He admired the ornate room and tall vase of flowers on the dresser welcoming him from the Taylor family. He had come a long way from the dumps of Orlando and his discharge from the Navy.
The phone blinked red and he retrieved two messages, one from the Taylor family, wishing him a good night and inviting him to breakfast the next morning. The other came from his old buddy, Andy, inviting him to dinner the next day and threatening to kick his ass if he didn't show up. Andy got sent back here for a second tour of Pearl Harbor after sea duty and Ben wouldn't miss seeing him.
Andy had saved his life years ago when Ben needed a second chance. He went a little crazy after the terrible night up on the Pali Lookout. He wandered around the base the next day. Andy found him later sprawled out on the barracks rooftop with intense sunburn. It was the one place he could hide and see the entire sky spread above. Andy led him to sick bay.
The doctors talked to him but he just stared at them. He felt dead inside. After a series of tests and discussions about his condition, the doctor rubber-stamped his file "Personality Disorder" and the Navy booted him with an RE-4 discharge. It came as a friendly send-off but said loud and clear, "Here son, take an honorable discharge, but by the way you're unfit for re-enlistment. Not military material. Sorry."
Afterwards, he headed back to Florida and lived on his savings, supplementing it with doing package deliveries on bike between local businesses. He re-lived his days in the same dumpy motel before the Navy with Jack Daniels. He still had Andy as a friend but he lived three-thousand miles away, connected by a $2 a minute phone call he couldn't afford. He
could
afford Jack but still couldn't shut out the dreams of the lake. In the dreams he always ran along the shoreline trying to get back to his parents. And sometimes the meteorite chased him wanting to crush him.
He remembered the night he had stumbled out of bed, still half-drunk. The dream that night wasn't about the lake or the meteorite. He saw his parents clear for the first time since the night he ran away at nine years old. His mother played the piano on the front lawn of their house in New Paltz. His father played the flute. They stopped and looked at him and holding hands, they walked toward him smiling.
"It'll be all right, Ben," his mother said in her soft way. "We still love you."
"You've got to live for us," his father said.
"Everything will be all right, if you want to live." His mother nodded.
"Do you want to live, Ben?" His parents stood in front of him and they each took one of his hands. He felt their touch. So warm, so real. He felt an unfamiliar feeling rising in him. He loved and he felt loved. It had been so long.
He then awoke and stood naked at his window overlooking the trash dumpsters. The moon shone down illuminating the scene. He knew this scene well. Drunks sleeping off their booze in the parking lot, rats raiding the garbage, and the poor sloth of life living all around him in an angry haze trying to exist in a depressing world. He fell to his knees and buried his head in the carpet.
"Yes, I want to live. Help me live."
He sat on the floor and stared at the moon. From the floor it was all he could see. It glowed with new hope in his window. When his head cleared and the sun faded the moon to a pale outline in blue, he called his old buddy, Andy. He had kept in touch with him along his drunken route. Andy had become an officer since he last saw him, after being recommended for officer training school. Yeah, Andy had done well.
"Yo, Ben, my man." Andy sounded wide-awake as if the night still ran young on his end, although he was hours behind Ben. "What's going on in the armpit of Florida? Still lazing around?"
"Yeah, well, that's why I'm calling." Ben grinned. It felt good to hear his voice.
"Let me guess, out of money and used up all the chicks there?"
"The first one is right anyways, but I don't need your money." Ben paused. "I actually need a job. I need something." His voice cracked. "I need..."
"I get it," Andy said in a serious voice. "Let me see what I can dig up and call you back. I know some people I can reach out to. Give me a day. You don't care where or what the job is, right?"
Ben laughed. "Hell no, I'd take a job hauling elephant dung from the local zoo right now."
"Well, just 'cause you're in deep shit doesn't mean you have to work in shit or shit where you work or eat shit and die or…hell, never mind." Andy chuckled. "I'll call ya in a couple days, buddy."
Ben laughed again and hung up, glad he had called him. Andy moved in different circles since becoming an officer. Andy called him a few days later with an unusual project. A family he knew planned to head out on a six-week vacation to the Mediterranean. They were a well-off couple with two kids who wanted to take a photographer along to capture their memories. They would pay all expenses and a nice salary. It would be a dream job and the second chance Ben needed to jump back into the world of the living. He also knew Andy took a chance on him.
"You are cleaned up, right?" Andy had to ask.
"I am now," Ben answered. It was true he hadn't drunk since two nights ago. He went through two nights of hell to find his way back between the delirium tremors, the parched mouth thirsting for more, and the paranoia. He had been given a second chance—again.
"But can you stay sober?"
"Not a problem. I promise. Give me this gig, and you'll have no worries."
And that's how he found himself two weeks later dragging his camera equipment, that had been collecting dust, and a duffel bag through the noisy, pungent-smelling Athens International Airport.
From that moment on, Ben grew a business out of traveling with the rich on vacation. It started with one referral and another and another. His clients recognized good candid photos when they saw them and Ben's quiet way put them at ease, often not realizing he was around them capturing their intimate moments.
From the beginning Ben made it professional, but families still remained a mystery beyond his landscape. They vibrated as a package of harmony and discord wrapped up in duty and tied with love. He wasn't part of their unit but he could be a respected partner for a short time and it was good enough for him. He became part of the living again and living good, traveling the world for free. From Paris to Rome to Nepal he lived a dream life. The world had become his home.
And now he was back here in Hawaii. There was something full circle about that. After a day of shooting the Taylors surfing at the North Shore, he showered the sand off and caught a cab to Andy's place in Honolulu. As Ben pulled up and paid the cabby, he knew he wasn't anywhere near Hotel Street. Palm trees lined the streets in perfect alignment gracing white stucco homes with beige trim on low, wide roofs. Quiet and serene. Definitely not NoHo.
He wondered if Hud's Place still cranked out music and drinks in the midst of hooker heaven. He guessed it did. The idea now of paying some hooker to blow him off in a seedy room when he could take care of business himself for free made him queasy. And the transvestite. He wasn't that Ben anymore, but it was hard not to think about it, being back in Hawaii. Memories hid around each corner waiting to suck him down in a monstrous undertow.
"Ben, my man!" Andy grabbed him at the door and picked him up in a bear hug, cracking his back. He looked like the same white-blond, Norse God Ben had left seven years ago. A whisper of wrinkles graced his ice-blue eyes now, but he stood as big and tan as ever.
"Dude, you're breaking me! How ya doin'?"
"Well, glad to not be the same old skinny-ass James Dean wanna-be you are. What the hell have you been living on, Pez and beef jerky?"
Nahhh…Pez is
passé
. It's strictly Skittles and Cheetos. I keep the maids guessing about the colorful ring I leave in the tub after peeing in it."
"Nastier than ever I see." Andy grinned and chucked his hair. "No wonder you still can't get laid with peeing in the tub, and all."
"Actually, the girls love it as I never leave the seat up. They think I'm sooooo polite."
They both laughed, enjoying each other in a return to their old banter. Andy led him into a large foyer. "Seven years. I can't believe it. Way too long."
Ben nodded. He burst with things he wanted to talk about with Andy and looked forward to the evening ahead of hanging out with his old buddy. He was the only one in his life who knew about his past. Except the Pali Lookout. He could never tell Andy about it.
And as time went on he began to think he had created the man in black in his mind to save him. Could a figure conjured up shoot the bad asses that tried to rape you, help you dress, and then drive you home? Andy was cool though and had never pushed him to talk about that night. Andy knew memories could come back to haunt you.
"Well, you've got some nice digs here, Lieutenant. What pirate booty ship did you jump on, sailor?"
"Not a ship, but a world-class cruise." Andy pointed to a woman who walked into the room. Her skin glowed bronze and her black hair hung in a liquid sheath of curls cascading down a rounded body. She glided toward Ben. Perspiration twitched on his upper lip. She smiled at him with sparkling white teeth and held out her slender hand, revealing a glint of diamonds in the foyer light. Her black sloe-eyes captured his gray ones with amusement and welcome.
"Hello, Ben Fieldstone," she said with a lilting accent.
"Ben, this is Likini, her and I, are, well…engaged."
Andy grinned and put an arm around the woman.
"Nice to meet you, and congratulations." Ben shook her hand and raised his eyebrows at Andy.
"I know, I didn't tell you." Andy said. "Well, now I am, so come on in to our place."
They ate a traditional Polynesian feast of steamed pork, yams, and marinated fish in lemon juice and coconut cream. Likini had prepared it with a Tongan twist, reminiscent of the island she came from in the South Pacific. Ben complemented her about it several times. She was a lady and he forced himself to watch his obscene banter with Andy. He wondered if she was a lady in bed too. Knowing Andy, probably not. So he stuck to regaling them with funny travel stories from around the world and ate himself beyond full.
No one had cooked him a meal in their home in years. He tried to remember the last time and recalled glimpses of being with his parents at their friend's house. He remembered how he would stuff himself as fast as he could with dinner and dessert, sitting politely amongst candles, listening to boring talk about the cost of furniture or cars. All the while he would shake his legs back and forth under the table waiting to be excused.
The moment would finally come and with a whoop he'd escape to the back room to watch
Hart to Hart
,
Fantasy Island
, and sometimes, although he wouldn't admit to liking it,
The Love Boat
. Ensconced with popcorn and an old blanket he would pass the evening in front of the knob-controlled television while the grownups played canasta, getting louder with each drink. He liked being alone in his own world just as he liked it now.
"Thank you again," Ben said as he got up to clear the table.
"So many thank you's is not necessary." Likini's stilted English drawl flowed over him like smooth liquor. "But I'm glad you enjoyed it."
Andy rolled his eyes. "He's in love with you pretty lady, plain and simple. Drooling at the mouth. Struck dumb by beauty."
Ben looked down at the dirty dishes he held and cleared his throat.
"It's okay, Ben." Likini smiled up at him. "It's a complement and you don't have to help with the dishes. Please, go enjoy your time with Andy. You have a lot to talk about, I can imagine."
She swirled away in her flowing white halter dress and Ben watched, mesmerized. After he and Andy moved to the back screened in porch he had to ask his friend.
"How did you meet her when she's from Tonga?"