“Sunny, let me in,” I called. I pulled harder on the knob.
“Go away!” she screamed.
“Please… I’m sorry.”
No response. I tried to get her to open the door, but only silence met me on the other side. Adrenaline coursed through me. She couldn’t lock me out! I pounded on the door, but she didn’t answer.
“Sunny, open the damn door!” I yelled, punching the door. Over and over again.
“I said go away!”
I stood still for a moment doing some deep breathing. My hand ached and bled from its impact to the door. “Calmness and balance.” I whispered to myself. “Calmness and balance.”
I went away.
FORTY-TWO2024
Aimee
My jewelry making was pretty much a disaster. I didn’t have the creative skill, or patience, for it. So, I gave up and started sketching instead. I liked doing pencil drawings, rather than color, because I enjoyed their simplicity. It was the perfect hobby for a snowy January.
Sketching also gave me peace. My mind had been going in a million directions lately. Nothing in my life was stable, as always, but in a constant state of unrest. My time with Dream at the commune was ironically probably the most stable time of my life.
At least things with John were at a standstill. I didn’t like him or trust him, but if he left me alone, fine. I wished I could cut off his friendship with Archie, but I didn’t know how. I still wondered if Dream was lurking around or if John had some connection to Listening Lark and was the one sending the strange gifts; but I couldn’t figure out how he would have such an intimate knowledge of my relationship with Dream. None of it made sense. How would he know about those personal things? Only Dream would know. But what did he want? Why drag it out like this? I wished he would just show up in person and get it over with; although as much as I wanted that, I felt sick at the prospect, and weirdly excited.
Archie was acting strange too. Standoffish, unlike him, and distant. I didn’t know why, but wondered if he could sense I was keeping secrets from him. I didn’t want to dredge up old memories from the past. What would he think of me?
I picked up my sketch book lying on the nightstand and walked over to my jewelry box. I lifted the top and stared at the gold locket found in my underwear drawer on Christmas morning. My thoughts traveled back to the other gold locket.
My heart hurt thinking about the intense love I’d had for Dream, different than I had with Archie. With Dream, it was as if we existed on another level of consciousness, the love fortifying every step of our day. Consuming. Intoxicating. Maybe even a little obsessive. Our craving to be with each other was our main purpose in life.
Until it wasn’t.
Over those three years, after Listening Lark, when I languished in Aunt Lou’s house sunk in such sadness, I played my days, our days, at Listening Lark over and over in my mind. Such contrasts, of sunshine and darkness, that in the end swirled together until everything broke apart. Part of me felt guilty because Archie and I didn’t have that sort of love, where you can feel it in your very core; but I was certain I’d never experience that kind of love again in my lifetime. My love for Archie was real, but it was steady and predictable. I guess it was an adult love. Not that what I had with Dream wasn’t real, but it certainly wasn’t based in reality. The whole Listening Lark idea wasn’t based in reality, but it existed. And when it was good, it was so good, all you could ever want. If I had the chance to go back to that time in my life and spend one day in that guesthouse with Dream before everything went wrong, I would do it in an instant. Even now, thinking about it, I don’t know how everything went so badly, so quickly.
How do you love someone so deeply and hate them too? How do you miss someone but never want to see them again? As much as I wished them gone, my feelings, and love, for Dream would never die.
And secretly, I hoped he was back.
The Winter Carnival at Poplin Elementary School was a big event. The gym, filled with various stands, coin toss games, dart games, guessing games, basketball games, basically, many games, plus a face painting booth and photo booth.
Outside the gym, in the cafeteria, were food stands. Typically, goodies like hot dogs, hamburgers, French fries, funnel cakes, and milkshakes. The PTA had a bake sale with various homemade offerings, including my cream cheese brownies.
Archie and I manned the photo booth. There were two sections to it, one an old-fashioned photo booth where you could pay a dollar for a strip of three pictures. And the second part was a designated area where people could take selfies in front of different backgrounds, like an ocean scene, a NYC street, and a scene in front of Poplin Elementary School. The selfie backgrounds were free and most popular. Children and adults both swarmed the various scenes to take a picture.
“Two for the photo booth, please,” a little girl requested. I grinned and took her money. She went into the booth with her friend.
“Make sure to smile, Clara!” Archie said.
“Okay, Mr. Greencastle!” The girl giggled.
“One of your students?” I asked.
“Maybe next year. She’s in second grade. Her sister, Leigh, is in my class this year,” he replied.
“Hey, let’s take a selfie,” I suggested, grabbing my phone.
Archie grabbed my hand. “Okay, NYC, ocean or school?”
“All of them!”
We posed at each background, smiling, then pulling surprise faces, then silly faces. We laughed with each pose and scrolled through the pictures on my phone together.
“Oh, that’s a good one.” Archie pointed to one of the NYC shots. “Send that one to me. I’m putting it in my classroom.”
“Mr. Greencastle!” A group of third-grade girls came over to our booth. “Will you take our picture?”
“Okay.” He took one of the girls’ phones. “You know this is a selfie station, right?”
“We know! We’re taking more than one picture. The rest will be selfies. And take a selfie with all of us, you too!”
“Okay.” He laughed and took the picture. “Me too?”
“Yes!” the girls said in unison.
I laughed and went back to the photo booth where a line was forming. I took the money and the line moved along.
“Hey, Aimee,” a voice said.
