The Adjal of Jimmy Temple

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

My eyes opened and a red lamp shimmered into focus. Dawn oozed under the blind like a sickly yellowish something that had leaked from the wet room. Wanda was propped up on one elbow, studying me.

"I had a dream," I said.

"You and I went downstairs into the wet room and saw poor Paul lying on that table," she said.

I felt my face turn to ice. How could she know? The room now seemed a lot stranger than a Hopper painting.

"He was such a decent man and so loyal to my father. How do I tell him he's going to be dead?"

"Tell him any fucking thing you want!" The words shot out of my mouth. I couldn't help it. I like to think I'm a pretty cool guy, steady- eyed under stress, but I was really losing it. I sat up and reached for my shirt and slacks. I shoveled the shirt into the slacks and looked around for my shoes.

"Why are you angry at me?" she asked.

"Don't you think I should be?" I said, knowing I wasn't angry, just bewildered as hell and maybe a little scared. I danced on one foot, struggling to get a loafer on the other. "When I take drugs I like to do it on my time."

"I gave you drugs? You think that's what happened last night?"

I reached for the bottle of Evian on the dresser, filled a glass and handed it to Wanda. "Drink this."

"I'm not thirsty."

"Drink it."

She looked at me with what I can only call pity, and took a couple of long swallows, and gave me another of those looks. "Now are you satisfied I didn't drug you?"

"Somebody, something, did."

"Everything that happened in our sleep was real," she said, and with a little pleased smile added, "Especially the sex."

I looked at her but said nothing. I didn't want to admit that it had seemed as real as being awake. Seemed. An illusion. Somehow this ravishing beauty had created an illusion. Christ, for all I knew, maybe she was an illusion.

"When you sleep in this room, in this bed, a small opening appears in the curtain of time and you can go downstairs and see who's dead a few days from now."

"Take this plot and sell it to Twilight Zone. I'm not buying. My weirdness limit has just red-lined."

"I'm trying to explain to you what happened."

"Thai beer, three bottles of it," I said. "More lethal than sake. All the stuff we've been through over the past few hours, dead bodies and wet rooms. Add Thai beer, you have nightmares. Anybody would have nightmares."

"We went into the future together."

"Yeah, sure."

"You've never seen Paul Robbins before in your life, except in our trip to the future. Shall I tell you what he looks like? Shall I tell you the date on his death certificate? Shall I tell you the date on your death certificate? Remember how your body was missing?"

"I remember the Thai beer."

"You're a detective. Maybe you'll believe another detective. Maybe you'll believe Sherlock Holmes who said that when you've eliminated every possible explanation, whatever is left over, however improbable, must be the truth."

"Stop trying to impress me with your literary prowess. I know what's real, and what isn't."

"Boy, when you go into denial it's industrial strength."