Disjointed

The room smelled like moth balls and lavender and it was not a good combination. Maria thought she might use the tiny waste basket in the corner as a puke bucket if the bull shit got much deeper. The room, if you could call the closet sized space one, felt claustrophobic with dark tapestries draped on the walls. Behind the woman speaking was a kaleidoscope of purples, blues, indigoes, and reds. The candle in the center of the table flickered even though there was no breeze in the stuffy space. 

“You seek information.” 

No kidding, that’s why I came here. Isn’t that why you took my money up front? Why else do people come here? I don’t think it’s for the chance to sit on your miniature sofa and stare in your beady eyes. Good lord, is that a glass eye? 

“You traveled a great distance to be here.”

“You work with people.”

“I can see you having problems in your future.”

Is she really buying this? Did she really fork over one of her paychecks to this woman? Maria squirmed in the chair and tried not to sigh. She didn’t want to appear rude afterall. But this really wasn’t what she was expecting. It certainly wasn’t what she was hoping for. So far this psychic hadn’t said anything that meant anything. She was being very vague. Maria had dreams that were more specific than this. Maria was able to predict when the phone was going to ring. She knew when a package would arrive, right down to the hour. She could tell you when a snow day was coming a week in advance just by a tingle she would feel in her belly. She knew things. She didn’t know why she felt the need to go to see the psychic. Or spend the money to sit in the tiny room. And smell her moth balls and lavender candles. 

“You are definitely going to have problems. I think it might be math problems or work problems or health problems? I’m not really getting a clear picture here…”

This time Maria did sigh. “Okay, thank you for your time. I really do need to be going. Problems. I’ve got it. Thanks! I’ve got problems. Got it. Problems. Perfect! Good to know. Thanks!”

“Problems always lead to solutions dear...remember that. You can’t get out, only get through…”

*****

When she dreamed of her grandparent’s house, it was always in the basement. The basement was a fun place to play. At the bottom of the stairs on the right there was a game room. It was paneled with a green linoleum floor. It was a long rectangular room. In the game room there was a pool table. At the far end of the room there was like a clothes line with numbers on it, maybe the numbers represented the pool ball numbers? There may have also been a dart board on the far wall too. On the opposite side there was a half bathroom with the absolute most magnificent bathroom ever - if you were a girl who thought princesses were real. This was a pink bathroom and the toilet was built up on a throne! You had to actually walk up two steps to sit on the toilet. And then back down to the most darling sink ever. And, the whole tiny little bathroom was pink. It was enhanced with pink doilies and mats and toilet seat cover. This room also had a sunken bar, complete with a counter that lifted to let you pass through. It had its own refrigerator too. She never remembered playing pool down there. Ever. She doesn’t remember bar stools. She doesn’t remember the bar itself. She just remembers the room.

Across from that room was what they called the “newspaper room.” The walls were blue and the floor was a blue linoleum. This was where all the recyclables were collected. It must have started during World War II when things were collected and recycled in this room. There were great piles of newspapers. They were bundled like haystacks waiting to be turned into tomorrow’s egg cartons or kitty litter. There was always a mystery about this room in her dream…

Straight ahead was Grandpa’s workshop. His tool bench was set up and this is where he worked his magic making picnic benches, tables, doll houses, rocking horses, beds for dolls and for kids. He was an engineer by trade, but a wood working magician on the side. This floor was cement. It smelled of paint and sawdust. The walls were covered with tools of all sizes and shapes. He was organized and had a place for everything and everything had a place.

To the right of this room was storage. Here, it smelled of dust and moth balls. There were rows upon rows of storage. The old Davenport was stored in this section. Only her grandparents ever called their living room sofa a Davenport. They were so excited when the new one arrived. It had a floral print and matching pillows. It was in the storage room where the dream, nightmare? Always began. 

There is no house above. There is no game room. There is no storage room. There is no workshop. It’s just all just an underground passageway to another world. The entrance is found in the storage area, and Maria found it. She wasn’t supposed to find it. But she stumbled into it. And she went through it. 

****

Fuck. Maria crumpled the wad of tissue and threw it into the bowl of water beneath her. She grabbed for more and hoped for different results with a new swipe. No such luck. Fuck. Fuck. Double fuck, fuck. Well, with a mouth like this, maybe she didn’t even deserve a child anyway. What the fuck. She stood up and flushed the red tinged water away. She pulled the elastic waste band up and over her slightly swollen belly. Her hands lingered for a moment and caressed the aching cramp that started just below her belly button. “Come on little one. Your mama’s here. You hang on little one. Hang in there, okay kiddo?”

She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed the OB number. 

“Hello, it’s Maria,” she gave all the pertinent information to the receptionist before finally getting through to a nurse. The nurse instructed Maria to lie down. Stay calm. If the bleeding increases, then she will need to come into the emergency room. But for now, just relax. It is probably nothing. She was almost 26 weeks pregnant and way past the first trimester. Just go lie down on the sofa, turn on some music or watch a movie. Everything was going to be okay.

Billy Joel had just finished singing “Just the Way You Are” and was starting “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” from side one of The Stranger when a strange sensation gripped Maria’s stomach. She sat up quickly and felt a gush.

***

The nightmare was always the same. A hand sticking out of the couch cushions. It was a little boy’s hand, more like the whole arm. The boy was under the cushion, hidden away from sight. However, she knew that the little boy had light brown hair, blue eyes and and rounded nose. He wore a green, blue, and white horizontal striped shirt and navy blue shorts. He had a crooked smile and tiny white baby teeth. He was about three or four years old and skinny but ever so giggly. He liked to eat chocolate chip cookies and drink chocolate milk and white milk too. He could ride a bike and a skateboard. He liked to climb trees and had skinned knees. Maria knew all sorts of details about this little boy who was hidden in their couch because he was the twin brother that her parents had hidden from her. This was her reoccurring nightmare. It got to the point where she wouldn’t come back downstairs once it got dark outside so she wouldn't have to look at the couch. She would never be alone in the living room with the couch. She began to wonder why her mother always sat at that particular end of the couch anyway. Did her mother have the same nightmare? Was it even just a nightmare? Was there a child inside the couch?

***

Maria was losing her baby. On the sofa. In her living room and no one was home to drive her to the emergency room. She would have to take herself to the hospital. Where were her keys? Where did all this blood come from? Where did she need to go again? Why was she always alone when the nightmares began?

***

The glass eye stared at her from inside the mason jar. Maria collected marbles as a child and knew that this jar full might look pretty sitting on her windowsill. All the blues and greens and aquamarines. She just needed to find a few more before her collection was complete. Who said she’d lost all her marbles? 

No problems here. The nightmares don't come out in the day.

And she was content to sit on the sofa all day.