The Love Sucks Club (10 page)

Trying not to look at Sam, I stare over the side of the mountain
at the sea. As far as geographic cures go, this was a pretty smart move. Still,
I’m starting to wonder if I got far enough away. Maybe my sister had the right
idea in escaping to the other side of the world.

We pause at a thumping noise coming through the woods. It sounds
like a herd of goats. Scanning the woods, I listen to the sound of hooves
getting louder. They sound heavy, but then, goats can sound like elephants when
they are crashing through the woods. Sam is grinning. She’s probably
remembering Susannah’s retelling of my last goat encounter. Finally, the
animals push out of the tree line and I realize it isn’t goats.
It’s
three men on horseback. Sam tenses beside me, but her
face remains perfectly calm. The men pull up short when they see us. Horses are
pretty popular around here, but they aren’t well cared for. These three look
skinny and dull. It’s hard not to judge people by the condition of their
animals. Sam’s shoulder muscles are tight and I can tell she’s worried. The men
are ignoring us, circling around to the other side of the clearing.
Dismounting, they tie their horses to a tree and wander in our direction. Sam’s
hand goes into her pocket. I’m not worried. They look innocuous enough.

The shortest one, a college looking guy with glasses and longish
hair, steps forward.
“Hey, ladies.
What’s going on?”

At least he pegged us both as women. Sam has been called “Sir”
more times than I can count, and while I have long hair, I have occasionally
been subjected to the gender police in women’s bathrooms.

Sam nods and I smile. “What’s up with you?”

“Well, we were just wondering if you wanted to smoke a joint with
us.”

Sam relaxes her muscles as I chuckle. “Thanks boys, but we’re
fine.”

“Aw, come on,” one of them wheedles. “We love hanging out with
lesbians.”

“Oh yeah,” the third one says. He’s the only one who looks a
little seedy, but he doesn’t scare me. He looks more like that guy who gets
trashed in the bar and spends an inordinate amount of time trying to convince
you that he really is a lesbian trapped in a man’s body.

The first guy, the college looking one, shrugs. “Well, y’all are
missing out.”

The third guy
steps forward a little and reaches
out like he intends to touch my shoulder or something. Sam grabs his hand and
whips out her knife. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she says. “But I will if I
have to.”

Seedy guy snatches his hand away. Whining, he says, “I didn’t mean
anything. I was just going to pat her shoulder.”

“She isn’t a puppy.”

The other two guys are grabbing seedy guy and coaxing him to leave
it alone. He turns away and then turns back around. “You’re just a man hating
dyke,” he spits out.
           

Sam holds up the knife again. “I may not be able to win a fight
against all three of you, but I guarantee you that I will take your balls off
before you can kill me.”

The other two yank on his arms and they go back to their horses.
As they are riding away, the jerk raises his middle finger and holds it up
until they disappear back into the woods. When they’re completely gone, I whip
around to glare at Sam who is laughing hysterically.
           

“Oh what?”
She blinks innocently. “Come
on. That was funny!”

“Yeah, it’ll be really funny when you get us killed one of these
days.”

“That guy was going to grab you.”

“He was harmless. He was doing that creepy shoulder pat thing.
Yeah, it’s gross, but he wasn’t going to hurt me.”

“All men are potential rapists.”

“Well, all women are potential psychopaths.”

“The ones who want to date me are.”

“Could you at least pretend to be a functioning member of
society?”

Standing up, she wipes off her pants and grabs the water. “That’s
pretty rich coming from you.”

She has a good point. I’m not sure what my problem is, but I know
I’m not right in the head. Wrestling between the part of me that wants to see
Fran and the part of me that wants the visions to stop is exhausting. Lost in
thought on our way down the hill, we walk in silence. Sam hasn’t asked any more
questions, but whether that’s because she’s thinking about my problem or
thinking about what happened up there on the hill, I can’t say. Glancing at her
profile, I smile at her features that are so similar to mine.
My soul sister.

She feels me looking at her. “What?”

“You’re gorgeous.”

Laughing, she reaches over and smacks me on the head. “And you’re
blind.”

“Obviously.”

“Come on,” she says. “Let me drive your ass home yet again.”

“You must be prince charming. You’re always coming to my rescue.”

“That’s me.” Sam blows on her fingers and rubs them on her shirt.

“What the hell does that gesture even mean?”

“It means you’re posh.”

“Yeah, but why?”

Shaking her head, she pushes me into the passenger door and walks
around to the driver’s side. “The thing is,” she says as she starts the truck,
“what if you do have something seriously wrong with you and you didn’t get it
checked out because you were convinced it was some sort of message from
beyond?”

“Sam, there is nothing wrong with me physically.”

“I’m just saying you don’t know.”

Refusing to answer, I stare out the window as we drive back to the
other side of the island toward my house. Sam’s jaw is clenched which means
she’s either worried or pissed. I don’t want to upset her, but I don’t know
what to do to make her understand. Wanting to break the silence, but not sure
what to say, I finally just poke her in the arm. “Hey.”

She looks over at me and I can see the concern in her face.
“Hey what?”

“What if I agree to give Dr. B a call tomorrow?”

“For real?”

“Totally.”

She nods and smiles. “I think that would be a fantastic idea.”

“Okay, I’ll do it.” I stare out the window for a few moments
before turning back to her. “If I turn out to have a brain tumor, you’re taking
Frank.”

“I can live with that. Me and Frank...we have an understanding.”

Grinning, I look back out the window. Maybe going to the doctor
isn’t a bad idea. I mean, I’m pretty sure there is nothing wrong with me, but
it wouldn’t hurt to rule a few things out. After all, I am becoming a “woman of
a certain age” as an ex of mine used to put it. Besides, if I do have a brain
tumor, I can act as crazy as I want and no one will bother me about it.
Smiling, I look back at Sam to catch her glancing from the road to me. We grin
at each other and for a
second,
I am so overcome with
my love for her that my heart literally feels as if it is swelling. She reaches
over and takes my hand and I lean my head back against the seat, closing my
eyes. When the truck makes the turn onto my dirt road, I open my eyes and look
out the window as we head up the hill. I smile as we pass Shovel Guy’s
driveway. “George,” I remind myself. At home, Sam pulls up next to my door and
offers to come in to make sure there’s no one staked out at my house. “No, I’m
good. I’m sure Voldemort is done with me for the day.”

Sam shrugs and releases my hand. Out of the car, I lean back in
the door for a moment. “Hey, Sam, don’t tell anyone I’m going to the doctor,
okay?”

“No problem,” she says, nodding. “Don’t tell anyone I held your
hand. They might think I’m queer.”

Laughing, I slam the door. Sam drives away, waving as she
disappears around the bend in the road. At the front door, I suddenly get a
knot of anxiety. I never used to be afraid to come home, dammit. This is
starting to piss me off. I’m a hermit for shit’s sake. Resting my forehead
against the front door, I try to clear my mind. It’s hard to tell if I’m having
premonition anxiety or just general anxiety. Maybe I’m depressed or maybe I’m
just feeling the general malaise of humankind. The smooth wood of the door
isn’t telling me anything.

I’m half tempted to just turn around and walk back down the hill,
but where would I go? I suppose I could walk over to Roxanne’s house. If she’s
home, I can sit and have tea with her. I wouldn’t even have to tell her that I
was freaking out. I need to apologize for running out on her today anyway. This
is why this gift, as Brad calls it, really pisses me off. If I’m a psychic, I
should be able to see things like my ex showing up and going psycho on me. At
the very least, I should be able to tell if someone is in my house, and if so,
if they are friend or foe. While I’m at it, I should be able to pick out the
winning lottery numbers, too. And I want a pony. Sighing, I decide to take my
chances. Turning the handle on the front door, I find it unlocked. When the
ladies left today, they must have left it open. Sticking my head in, I glance
around the foyer. The coast is clear so I wander into the kitchen. Frank is
sprawled on the kitchen counter with his tail in the sink. That’s no
indication. There could be an entire militia in here wandering through with
hand trucks taking everything I own and Frank’s only question would be whether
or not they had any beef jerky with them. I tickle the top of his head with my
fingertips and he lets out a tiny “
blert
.”
Still no sign of any intruders as I look from the kitchen into the
front room.
Wandering through the house, I touch my things, trying to
judge by feel if someone else has been touching them. Here and there, I lay a
finger on the back of a chair, on a side table, or on a framed picture.
Everything looks strange to me somehow, as if I don’t really belong here.
Staring at the wall, I try to make sense of the family in those pictures. Do
they know me? Do I know them? I touch the picture of my mother and suddenly,
I’m near tears again. My mother was such a bitch but I loved her so much. I love
my dad, too, but I don’t know him. I doubt he knows me at all. My sisters love
me and I love them, but looking at their faces, I realize that I don’t know
much about them at all. I know that Susannah loves ice cream, but I don’t know
what scares her. I don’t know if she has any dreams or if she’s satisfied with
her life. Jamie is a completely mystery to me. All I really know about her is
that she never stops moving and that sometimes, she forgets to leave me her
newest address and I don’t even know that she’s moved until a letter I’ve sent
comes back to me. One of these days, she’s going to forget to call me at all
and I will have lost her forever.

Touching Jamie’s face in a photograph, it occurs to me that if she
died today, I don’t know how I would find out about it. The floor creaking
interrupts my thoughts and I look up, resigned to whatever is happening next.
Esmé
is walking into the room, holding a copy of
Annabelle
Lies
. Shaking my head slowly, I sink slowly onto a chair. Her feet come
into my line of vision and a hand rests on my shoulder.

“
Esmé
,” I whisper. “I just don’t have
the strength to do this right now.”

She drops to her knees in front of me and puts her hand on my
chin. “Come on, Dana,” she says, quietly. “Let’s see if we can make contact.”

“You have the wrong idea about me.”

“I’ve read the book. I know you and Fran had a telepathic
connection.”

“That was me and Fran. And it was most likely facilitated by
Fran.”

“We can find out.”

I’m too tired to argue. The logical part of my brain is trying to
break clear of the fog and demand to know why she thinks she has a right to
just barge into my house. The other part of my brain is too tired to fight.
Maybe
Esmé
is right. Maybe I should try to go deeper
and find out what Fran is trying to tell me. If Brad is right, she has a
message for me from beyond. If Sam is right, there’s something physically wrong
with me and all of this is just a manifestation of some sort of brain problem.
Esmé
puts her hand against my forehead.

“Just relax,” she says in a soothing voice.

Her voice is low and lovely and her hand is so strong. I can feel
myself leaning forward, but she’s strong enough to hold me up. She continues to
talk in a soothing voice and I can feel it turning into a murmur. My head feels
so heavy. I can’t hold it up any longer. All I want to do is fall asleep to the
sound of her beautiful voice.

Fran and I are in my car, driving home from a friend’s house.
We’ve both had too much to drink but she’s way drunker than I am. That’s why
I’m driving. I have to keep us safe. Fran is drawing little hearts in the
condensation on her window and singing along with the radio. Reaching over, I
rest my hand on her thigh and she lays her hand on top of mine. I’m smiling. I
feel great. Fran was a hit with my friends and that makes me happy. She didn’t
exhibit any particularly weird behaviors tonight. At one point, I did overhear
her talking to one of my buddies about aliens, but someone else started in on
me, and I missed the conversation. We had a good time. Happy and grinning, I
tap my other hand on the steering wheel with the beat of the music. Fran’s
voice is slurred but sweet and I ask her to sing louder. Laughing, she smacks
at me. It’s a perfect moment until she suddenly stops singing and presses both
hands to her chest. I look over at her and her face is stricken. “It’s me,” she
tells me. “I’m the one.” Grabbing for one of her hands, I swerve over the
yellow line and correct back to my lane too fast, knocking her against the
door. She lets out a small moan and I grab for her hand again. “I can see it in
your mind. You know my people are coming for me.” Shaking my head, I try to
keep my eye on the road, but the vision of her, the one that I’ve had before,
is coming in fast. I know that in a second, I won’t be able to see anything but
the inside of my own mind. Slamming on the brakes, I reach blindly for Fran.
The vision consumes me for a minute or so, and when I come to, Fran is pale and
shaking. I reach for her and she collapses into me, crying and mumbling.
Holding her, it takes me a second to realize that there are headlights in my
back window.
Big, bright headlights.
I have only a
second to wonder what it means before they slam into the back of my car.