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Matchbox Six "Hey," Adam slid into the chair beside me. I had arrived early at the restaurant where we'd meet up with Marisol. I was working on my song again, not expecting to be disturbed. I looked up at Adam, closed my eyes, and sighed. "What?" "Paul said you had a nightmare last night." Adam snatched my glass of apple juice and took a sip. Pointing to it with the other hand, he said, "Hey, you don't mind, do you?" Too late. I shrugged. "He said you didn't want to talk about it." "Yeah." Adam raised his eyebrows as he took another swig of my apple juice. "Okay, that's cool," he put down the glass. "I respect that. I'll let Pookie have his privacy. I just wanted to tell you about my dream." A dream of Adam's? This had to be good. "Okay, Hashbrown, what'd you dream?" "It had to do with the Real World video." "Again?" "Yes, again!" Adam looked down at the glass and wiped the condensation off the side with his thumb. I hadn't noticed until now that he was wearing dark blue nail polish on that finger. "That video is always giving me nightmares. Anyway, here's my dream: I was walking into a bowling alley, and I found Rob." My eyes widened. "Rob was in your dream..." My voice trailed off; I had almost added "too?" Adam nodded. "He was standing there with a bowling ball, and he was wearing the tackiest bowling shirt. In real life, if Rob ever wore that thing, I'd have him committed! Anyway, he turned to Mary Lou..." "The camel?!?" I exclaimed. "Yes, the camel!" Maybe Adam needed to be committed. "And he said," Adam continued, "Watch this, honey! And he bowled a strike. He started jumping up and down, hooting and hollering, and everybody was staring at him. But Mary Lou, see, she just shook her head and said..." I burst out laughing. "Mary Lou spoke?!?" Narrowing his eyes, Adam stated, "Brian, this was in my dream. Not in real life." He sighed. "Now, can I continue?" I nodded, holding back my laughter. "So Mary Lou's like, Oh, Rob, that's nothing!" Adam went up a few octaves to achieve a Mary Lou voice. "You've been getting twos and threes all night, and you expect me to be impressed that you can bowl one strike? Dear, I've been bowling strikes and spares this whole game! Then I walked over and said, Hey, guys! Rob went livid. He said that I was interrupting his quality time with his girl. I told him that I really wanted to bowl, and he said I could if Mary Lou was okay with it. So I started pleading with her, and she ignored me. "Then," Adam took a breath, "Rob said I was pestering her and yelled, Security! You and Paul walked over. You were wearing a headset, and Paul was wearing that pink waitress uniform... what is so funny?" By then, I had lost it. Adam shrugged. "Anyway, when you and him let go of me outside, Paul slapped me across the face. And you told me to go munch on some Wax..." I was laughing so hard now that a few waiters were staring at us. But I couldn't help it. Adam's bewildered expression alone was enough to keep me going. Sighing, Adam shook his head. "Pookie," he huffed. "I can't take you anywhere. Okay, so now that I told you my dream, what was yours?" That was enough to hush me. Shaking my head, I said, "No, Adam, you don't want to know. It wasn't a funny nightmare." "Mine wasn't either!" I raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged. "Well," he amended. "Maybe a little. I guess I can see where you're coming from. But that doesn't matter. You should pay attention to your dreams, Pookie. They're talking to you..." Smirking, I asked, "Oh yeah? Then what did yours say?" "Let's not get into that," he chuckled. Sitting up straight, he made eye contact with me. "Come on, Brian. Paul said you were screaming. He said that you were scared out of your mind and even smashed him into a wall..." "I did not!" I exclaimed, a little louder than I had expected. Again, I got the attention of a couple of waiters. Adam sighed. "You pushed him hard enough that, when he caught the wall with his hand, he sprained his wrist!" I could feel my eyes bulging in their sockets. "Is he all right?" Nodding, Adam replied, "Yeah. He's just got it all wrapped up, and he's not supposed to pick up anything with that hand. Or play drums for a few weeks." I sighed and stared out the window. The lake, the one from my dream, was right outside. "So, are you going to tell me your dream?" "I dreamed Rob's death," I blurted out, not expecting that I'd get out the words. Adam heaved a sigh, and his head bobbed up and down. His brown eyes became fathoms deeper, and they looked into mine. With his hands folded on the table in front of him, he reminded me of a shrink. Maybe I needed one. His voice came soft and low. "Do you mind if I ask how he died in your dream?" "Some jogger found him," I gestured out the window, "in that lake." "Drowned?" Closing my eyes, I nodded. Adam ran a hand through his hair, and his fingers caught on a few knots. He returned his hand to the other one, folded them again. "Did you actually..." Adam swallowed hard, "see him?" "That's the thing!" I exclaimed, glanced about, then lowered my voice. "When I looked in the coffin...." Colour fled from Adam's cheeks. I thought he was going to pass out. "You dreamed his funeral too?" "Yeah. You were in my dream too. You were sitting with Kyle and his family. And Marisol..." Adam raised his eyebrows. "Marisol was in your dream?" He put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. Reaching across the table, I squeezed Adam's shoulder. He shrugged off my hand and returned his hands to the table. "Go on." "Marisol was kneeling by the coffin, and I stepped up closer. That's when I saw that... he wasn't even in there. Paul and Marisol were saying he was gone, and they just kept telling me that." I paused, glancing over at Adam. He just sat there, nodding. "Well?" "What?" "What does my dream mean?" Adam shrugged. "How should I know? I'm not Freud!" "But..." I stammered. "Then why did you want me to tell you my dream?" "Just wanted to know what made you upset enough to slam Paul into a wall!" Adam replied, sitting back. He sighed. "Did it make you feel better to talk about it?" I nodded. The dream had felt so real until I spoke to Adam about it. Now I wasn't sure why I believed it in the first place. "I see Paul and Kyle coming," Adam looked passed me. "Don't worry; I won't tell them anything." Kyle slid into the seat beside me, across from Adam. "Not tell us what?" I shook my head, and Kyle shrugged. Then Paul came into sight. His right wrist was wrapped, as Adam had said, and it was in a sling. Paul eased into the chair across from me. "Hey, Pookie!" Paul smiled at me. He might as well have stabbed me with a fork; I felt like dirt. "Look, Paul, I'm sorry! I didn't..." Waving his working arm at me, he said, "No, it's okay. Are you all right?" I nodded. "What'd you dream about?" Kyle asked me. Across the restaurant, I saw a gorgeous Latin woman breeze through the front door. Removing her sunglasses, she unveiled her chocolate brown eyes. She ran her fingers through her long, silky black hair as she glanced about the restaurant. "Marisol." "Your nightmare was about Marisol?!?" Paul exclaimed. Closing my eyes, I shook my head. "No, she's here." Marisol's eyes met with mine. Her full, rose-toned lips curved up into a smile. She crossed the room to meet us. "Hi, Brian!" she greeted me. She grabbed two chairs and set them between Kyle and me. Settling in the one beside me, she said, "Hi, Paul! Kyle. Adam." She looked at each one as she said his name. "So how did the show go last night?" I exchanged glanced with my friends. I was waiting for someone else to speak. They were waiting for someone else to speak. "Rob said he was looking forward to performing here," Marisol continued. "Though he wants to play in South Carolina sometime. North Carolina is the next best thing though, right?" Her smile faded as she gazed across the table. "Paul?" she leaned forward. "Hey, what happened to your arm?" He waved his good arm again. Marisol looked into his eyes and cocked her head to the side. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Um..." Paul replied, his eyes darting around the table for help. The words Marisol, we lost your husband ran through my head. "We, um, have to tell you... something." Marisol pulled her shawl over her shoulders and crossed her arms. Her eyes widened. "Where's Rob?" "He's gone," I replied, just so Paul wouldn't have to say it. Paul sighed and closed his eyes. "Gone where?" she turned to me, her eyes penetrating mine, like they were sifting my brain for answers. "He told me he would meet me here! We planned this yesterday; he couldn't have forgotten." "We don't know where he is." I watched the colour drain from her face as I said each word. Sitting back in her chair, Marisol looked down, into her hands. "Oh." "We found a paper in his room though," Adam reached into his pocket. He pulled out the paper, unfolded it, and laid it in front of Marisol. "But it's in Spanish. We were hoping that you could tell us what it says." Marisol picked up the paper. Her slender fingers grasped the thin sheet, and her watch dangled from her wrist. Her eyes skimmed the page. Shaking her head, she said, "Rob couldn't have written this." "Why not?" I asked, looking over her shoulder. "It's his handwriting." "Yes, but his Spanish isn't this good! Not that it's bad, but he can't write like this." Leaning closer to Marisol, Paul asked, "What's it say?" "Well, up here," she pointed to the scribbles at the top of the page, "he wrote the words to 3 AM. But... he's changed it. Like... like right here, he wrote She said it's autumn again, it might as well be my fall." Raising his eyebrows, Paul said, "That's strange." "You know," Adam replied, "I kind of like it that way." "Is that all it says?" I asked. Marisol shook her head. "He also wrote Alejandro Torres and an address. Do you guys know this man?" Adam, Kyle, and I shook our heads. "No," Paul said. "But it sounds like a clue." |