Kissing in a Dream

The Wolf's Smile

I knew the face of death.

It followed my family like a smoke cloud.

For every happy moment to befall us, two deaths followed.

My grandfather and my sister Mae.

My mother and my aunt Prem.

My grandmother and my uncle Non.

Death was familiar. I could taste it on the air, and heard it whisper on the wind as time slowly, gong by on the toll of the bells.

The tone of church bells always made me sad. Even in my dreams as the sound echoed through the night, in the pouring rain.

Death's song lured me like a lullaby.

In the dark place, I stood there, staring toward the hill wishing my heart would stop breaking.

But who was I to ask for such a thing? The sins of my father would surely reach me one day, no matter how much I prayed, no matter how much I dream, no matter how sad the church bells made me.

Thunder scraped across the heavens, followed by a streak of light. The rain poured down on my head, soaking through to my brain.

I could barely breathe.

I couldn't move.

In my shame, I bowed my head, allowing the water to cleanse me—needing the raindrops to cleanse me. But I didn't think the world had enough rain for that. Still, I hoped.

Still, I stood in the downpour, the flash of lightning sparking off the reads, the telephone poles, the antennas on the buildings.

Dark shadows moved across the way from me. They moved like men with secrets to kill for. They spoke rapidly, dipping in between Thai and English, leaving me dizzy. They dragged something heavy behind them, something big enough to be a body and in the pale moonlight, death wandered leisurely after them.

I shifted on the bed and opened my eyes, my body soaking in sweat.

The dream always left me shaky.

For a moment, I couldn't seem to gather my thoughts or myself. I remained on my back, staring at the ceiling until my surroundings began making sense again.

I was in a foreign country, on the other side of the world, taking a program I had zero heart for because my father said it was what I had to do.

My marching orders were simple and finite.

The alarm on my phone roared with the chaos of what my days have always been. I reached over, slammed my palm into it to turn it off. Without waiting, I sat up, rubbed my eyes, dragged my fingers through my hair then climbed, naked out of bed. I stretched my body and wandered into the bathroom.

My shower was quick and after I dressed, I made myself a breakfast of eggs and toast. The coffee tasted strange. Even though it wasn't my first year in Vancouver, I was still trying to find the perfect brew. So far, it tasted like everything else—it tasted like regret and depression.

I dumped it in the sink, stuck a piece of toast between my teeth while gathering my phone, bag and wallet. After one final look at myself in the reflection of the microwave, left the house, descended the elevator and climbed behind the wheels of my Bentley.

Even with my seatbelt on and driving through the streets, I couldn't help thinking back to the latest rounds of nightmares.

My hands shook.

I pulled into the parking lot of Dae's condo and found my cell from where it was in my pocket.

"I'm here."