The Dreams That Were Dreamt

Chapter Ten: Rosa

How was is that he made it here? Who had made the fire he was kneeling over? He sat there, cold, with bruises on his face and scraped knees. He crouched over the fire with memories that seemed to belong to no one. He had picked up where someone else had left off. Something had happened to him. Not a fight, but a war, protracted and slow. He waited for a word. He waited for a sign. He could stand up but his back was crooked. He could run but he had a limp. He could pull a knife to defend himself but posed no threat. His lover had said that it would be alright, before he had entered the woods. ''Just stay alive until I find you''.

Yet another not so reluctant drive was carried out this morning. The third time around Roger seemed less hesitant to my proposals as to where to go next. The third time around I was more sure than ever that Roger was fumbling in the dark. Our car stood parked along the side of the road and across the street, a few houses down, stood Rosa's. I had to see Rosa. If there was anyone that could help us it was her. Still, I wasn't sure whether she would. But it was worth the shot.

All the units on the street were so tightly squeezed together that there were difficulties in telling where one home began and where the other one ended. If there was one fire, there would be twenty. If one was haunted, they all were. The weather was the same as the previous day and every day before that. Grey. If I didn't know any better, I would think that we were stuck in a dream that repeated itself to no end. Teach me how to wake up. Remember to tell the one that I love to hold me.

It was early, early in the morning. Had things not turned out the way they had, I would be on a bike on my way home from the docks at this time. I would make a stop at the bakery and buy some freshly baked bread rolls before getting home, making coffee and watching the news. Now I sat here, together with Roger, waiting for Rosa to arrive. I wanted to be there as soon as she got home because I knew she always returned to bed upon landing. ''I cannot wait to get home and sleep in my own bed,'' was a compulsory thing she said every now and then after finishing her oatmeal. If Cindy was there, she would remind her that we all sleep for a living. But Rosa would emphasize how it wasn't the same. When Cindy couldn't be persuaded Rosa would end the argument with the ever so effective statement; ''You will understand once you get older'' which forced Cindy's eyes to roll. You couldn't argue with that.

I kept looking at the road, afraid that we were going to miss her. I payed Roger no attention whatsoever. I was scared to turn my eyes his way. I wasn't sure how he felt about the other night. I wasn't sure how I felt about it. After we were done, dressed and ready, it was like it never had happened. He never bothered me with questions if I was doing alright or not. I'm glad that he didn't. How I hated those questions. Don't remind me. He didn't treat me any differently. That was one of my greatest fears when it came to exposing your weaknesses to others. He treated me like he always had. Whatever that night was, it was put in-between brackets in a lengthy sentence filled with semi colons.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the car passed us in a slow and steady pace. They passed us so slow that I thoroughly could study her profile in the passenger seat. Hi Rosa. I stared at her so intensely that I was afraid she could feel it. The car floated passed us and parked itself in the driveway. From the driver's seat a tall, dark and handsome man stepped out wearing a police uniform. This was Tarquin, Rosa's son. He always stood waiting for his mother outside the building every morning. Tarquin was the oldest of Rosa's children, one that she frequently mentioned in the coffee room. ''If Tarquin saw this... '' or ''If Tarquin heard that...'' were lines that she periodically dropped. After stepping out of the car, Tarquin opened the trunk of the car and unfolded Rosa's wheelchair. Rosa was always adamant on never letting anyone push her around in the wheelchair. If anyone tried to, with or without asking, she would make sure to reprimand them with a thorough exposition concerning how inappropriate that was. This didn't seem to apply to her own son however. He escorted her inside without creating any visible controversy. When Tarquin had stepped out of the car, I could sense Roger's eyes on me. The stare intensified. I just sat there in silence hoping that he would brush the polished and well-ironed uniform off his shoulder. But I knew he wouldn't.