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Matchbox Five I was brushing my teeth when someone came knocking at my hotel room door. Toothbrush still in hand, I sauntered away from the sink. I opened the door, keeping the chain latched. Paul was standing there with his hand over his eyes. He rubbed his temples, then moved his hand away. His eyes were red, his face pale in contrast. "What's going…" "Can I come in?" Paul whispered. I unlatched the chain and admitted Paul into the room. He settled in the chair by the desk with a sigh. "You'd better sit down, Brian." Sitting down at the edge of the bed, I watched Paul rub his hands against his nose. He sniffled. Then, straightening his posture, he said, "Somebody found Rob." If Paul was this upset, that Rob was found… No. Shaking my head, I asked, "So where is he? In his room? With Adam and Kyle?" "Brian…" His voice trailed off. He swallowed hard and continued. "A jogger this morning found…," his voice wavered and rose an octave. He cleared his throat. "Found him in a lake a few blocks from here. They think he was…, was drinking…" "Is he okay?" I leaned forward. "Is he at the hospital?" Paul turned from me and stared out the window. "No," he stated. I stared down at my hands, at the black rose that I was holding. Its form was so perfect, even as a pedal slipped off and fluttered to my lap. "Brian Yale." I raised my head and saw the funeral director looking at me. I rose. Marching down the black velvet-carpeted aisle, I glanced at the people around me. I saw Kyle. He was sitting with his wife, who held their daughter in her lap. Adam sat beside Kyle, his head in his hands. Then I saw Marisol. She knelt beside a coffin in a long sleeved black dress. A veil and her hair covered her beautiful face. Pressing her head against the side of the coffin, she sobbed quietly. I could only hear her sniffling. As I passed her, Marisol grabbed my arm. "No, Brian," she whispered as she raised her head. "He's gone." I reached for her hand and squeezed it. She pulled at my arm with one last tug, then drew her hands over her eyes. Leaning forward, I gazed into the coffin… The empty coffin. "He's gone," Marisol repeated. Shaking my head, I stepped back. "Where is he?" Paul touched my shoulder. "Gone," he replied, his eyes wide and tearful. "But where? Where?" Gripping me by both shoulders, Paul shook me. "Brian!" My head snapped back as he shook me more violently. "You said they found him!" "Brian!" Bolting upright, I grabbed Paul's wrists and shoved him away from me. I looked around. I was in my hotel room, and it was dark. Sweat rolled down the sides of my face, and I shivered. "Whah…," I began but forgot what I was going to say. Paul stepped closer to me. "Hey, Brian, man, you all right?" I moved my head up and down as I tucked my hair behind my ears. "'Cause you were screaming." My face heated up as I said, "Yeah, I'm okay." Paul sighed and closed his eyes. "So," he asked, "What was your dream about?" Shrugging, I replied, "It was just a dream." I wasn't about to tell him that I'd dreamed Rob's death, at least not until we found Rob, when we could all laugh about this. I noticed that Paul was still staring at me. "Can I go back to sleep now?" Such a simple request. But, when Paul left the room, I found myself staring at the shadowed wall. And thinking about the empty coffin. Rob was alive, I thought, as I breathed a sigh of relief. But is he safe? |