The Lake of Dreams - Kim Edwards [16]
It was faintly light still, not quite nine o’clock. I lay down without undressing, punched speed dial, and closed my eyes. Yoshi picked up on the second ring, his voice low and smooth, like river stones.
“Moshi Moshi.”
“It’s me. I got here just fine.”
“Good. I miss you, Lucy.”
“Me, too. What are you doing?”
“Walking to catch the train. It’s raining a little.”
I imagined the lane, the river he’d cross before the station. If I were there I’d be lying in bed watching rain drip from the copper eaves, planning my vocabulary lesson for the day.
“I haven’t set up the Webcam. Maybe tomorrow. My mother isn’t very high-tech.”
“How is she?”
“Okay. Fine, really. But the house is very quiet.”
“You see. I was right.”
“I do see. She’s glad you’re coming. She wants to meet you.”
“Just a few days. I want to meet her, too. How’s your brother?”
“He’s good. He says hello. He’s having a baby.”
“What?”
“It’s true. Top secret, though. I’ll be an aunt in October.”
“Congratulations. I didn’t know he’d gotten married.”
“He didn’t. Not yet. I mean, I don’t know if he will. It’s all a surprise.”
“Well, tell him hello.”
“I will. Have there been more earthquakes?”
“A few, not so bad.”
“Hey. Did you turn off the gas?”
He laughed. “Yes,” he said. “Yes. I turned off the gas. Look, I’m almost at the station now, I have to go.”
“Okay. Call me tonight?”
“I will. Send me an e-mail if you can, okay?”
“I will.”
“Love you.”
He really must miss me, I thought, startled—Yoshi wasn’t much for endearments, especially on the phone. “Love you, too,” I said.
I pressed the button and there was only space, all the miles between us filling up with darkness. I put the phone on the bedside table without opening my eyes, remembering the little concrete house we’d shared in Indonesia, its garden filled with mango trees and lush, swiftly growing plants I couldn’t name. We always met there when we got home from work, and shared a drink as the moon rose, listening to the rustling sounds of lizards in the tall grass. I wanted to reach out now and catch Yoshi’s hand in mine, to walk with him back into that tranquil life. But he was in the middle of a day and ten thousand miles away. I pulled the blankets up and fell asleep to the sounds and scent of water.
The dream began as a long and wearying journey in the rain, full of airports and frustrations, missed connections and clocks ticking, perilous deadlines. I was being followed, through corridors, first, and then through a forest. My suitcase, old-fashioned and made of leather, hit a tree and broke open, spilling everything. In panic, I started crawling through the foliage, the earth damp and loamy. I searched wildly through the velvet leaves of cyclamen, blossoms flaring around me like birds in startled flight. What I’d lost was important, somehow vital to me, life or death, and even though footsteps and voices were approaching, growing louder and more menacing, I couldn’t stop, pushing leaves away and digging in the earth with my hands, until the voices were upon me.
I woke, so frightened and disoriented I could not move.
Gradually, slowly, I remembered where I was. Still, I had to take several deep breaths before I could swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand up. In the glaring light of the bathroom I splashed water on my face, studying my pale reflection in the mirror. My eyes, like Blake’s, were large and blue, but shadowed with fatigue.
The house was still, the closed doors in the hallway like blank faces. I unlocked them all. Everything was caught in time, as if the world had stopped the summer after my father died. In my parents’ room, the bed was neatly made. Blake’s room still had its posters of the moon and the earth, our luminous blue-green planet floating in the interstellar space of his walls. In the guest room, packed boxes were stacked high against one wall, so perhaps my mother had been up here after all, starting to go through the old things. When I opened the door to the cupola, stale, hot air spilled down the narrow steps, as if nothing had stirred