Nice to Know

Sycamore

"What's wrong?" I asked as he peeked out from behind the door. 

That's when I saw his eyes, totally blacked out, and his breath came out quick and raggedy.

"I can't make it stop." He wheezed. 

I peeked behind me to see the curious eyes of the man watching us. Turning back to him I pulled my sunglasses out of my bag and slid them into the crack in the door. 

"Is he alright in there?" The man asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I said over my shoulder, "Just not feeling so well I guess."

I could tell he wanted him out of there, probably due to the fact that he would be the one that would have to clean up anything that happened in that restroom. 

I leaned close to the door and whispered, "We have to get out of here."

The handle clicked and Peter stumbled out. I caught him with one arm and brought him to an upright position. 

I waved to the deli owner friendly as we made our way out as fast as I could carry him. 

Luckily the driver was watching for us to come out and jumped out to open the car door for us. I pushed Peter in and hastily climbed over him so the driver could close the door behind us before anyone saw. 

I put his head on my lap as he trembled, figuring it more effective to gently run a hand over his hair while his breathing calmed.

"I don't know why I'm freaking out like this." the words trembled on his tongue. 

My mind flashed to the paper folded in my pocket. I had to show him, but I was afraid it would send him into a full-on tailspin.  

"Peter," I sighed, pulling it out and holding it in front of his face. 

He sat up and took it out of my hand slowly. Pulling off the sunglasses he opened it and stared intently at it with black eyes. We sat there in silence for a minute while I waited for him to react, but his face didn't change. He just stared. 

I was just about to ask how he was feeling when he cut me off.

"Sycamore."

He mumbled it a few times like he was trying to remember something.

"You okay?" I said over his quiet mantra. 

His eyes flicked up to me and he held up one finger silently. But before I could ask again the glasses were back on and the car door was open.

"Peter!" I yelled as he bolted from his seat.

Crawling across the leather seat I had to try and get myself out without giving passersby an upskirt preview. 

He wasn't going very fast so it wasn't hard to catch up to him, but he clearly had no intention of stopping.

"Where are you going?" I asked, trying to match pace. 

"Not totally sure, but I'll keep you updated." I could see his eyes darting around under the shades, taking in every detail and trying to attach a memory to it. 

He didn't stop until we came to a sign.

Sycamore Park

Est. 1954

It was pretty small and rinky-dink. The middle was a woodchip floored playground that consisted of a slide, teeter-totter, and swings, surrounded by grass and trees. There was only one thing special about it, and it's that Peter remembered it. 

He began walking towards it, and I was going to follow him, but got cut off by a buzzing from my pocket. 

Pulling out my phone I saw Ivans name on the screen and debated whether I had time to deal with his whining at that moment. 

I sighed and answered, "Yes?"

"You need to get back right now," was all he said, "Somethings happening."