Beatle

Chapter 2 (Continued)

 Hello everybody! For those of you who are reading, Chapter 2 is almost over (the chapters are wicked long on Word, sorry bout that).  Anyways keep going, keep reading, and spread the word! Thanks!

     “Here’s your room,” my aunt said as she pushed open the door.  I walked in ahead of her, carrying my canvas bag which I set down on the floor near the door.  The room Anne had me in was of medium size, with a small vanity and mirror up against the right wall, a large dresser immediately to my left, and a good sized bed with its headboard against the far left wall. Next to the bed on the adjoining wall was a large window with stained glass panes that jutted out away from the house, creating a small window seat. The wallpaper was a pattern of floral designs with a matching light aqua green carpet on the floor. The first thing I saw upon walking in, however, was a beautiful and old wooden writing desk with exquisite carvings on the drawers, legs, desktop, and sides.   

     I walked straight over to it and ran my hands over the dark wood, admiring the minute attention to detail.   “Whose is this?” I asked, turning to Anne.

     “It came with the house,” she said, coming over and stooping down to examine it as I was doing.  “You can be sure it’s very old.”  She laughed guiltily and said, “To be honest I forgot I had it.  Shows how often I come in here.” With that, Anne righted herself and turned to leave the room, turning back once at the door to say, “I’ll leave you to get some sleep.  But Liz,” she pointed a finger at me in a no-nonsense way that reminded me all too much of my mother, “I’ll be waking you in about two to three hours alright? Any longer than that and you’ll really mess yourself up.  You hear me?”

     “I gotcha Auntie,” I responded automatically, feeling like I had never left home.  She left and closed the door behind her, and I, after spending a few more moments marveling at the desk, flopped onto the bed and promptly fell asleep.

                                                                                 VVV

      I was back home, though not in Melrose.  I was on Cape Cod, a familiar place where we usually went on vacation every summer in Massachusetts.  I was on a boat, in the middle of the ocean, rocking gently back and forth.  Next to me sat William, his hair, for some reason, looking like a Teddy Boys, slicked back on the sides with the top curly.  He held my hand, his thumb moving in small circles on the top of it.  With the other hand he held the side of my face and looked into my eyes, his blue eyes penetrating my brown ones.  He leaned forward slightly, our foreheads resting against each other’s.  His mouth moved a little, trying to say something, but I couldn’t distinguish the words.  “What?” I asked. “I can’t hear you.”

     “I love you,” he mouthed, though I still couldn’t hear him and could barely make out the words.  He leaned in further to kiss me, but a moment before we connected, William became John, and I pulled back abruptly, startled at the transformation.  Suddenly there was smoke, and I saw it was from a lit cig John had between his fingers.  He put it to his lips and exhaled even more, blowing it right into my face.  As it was all happening, the boat started to rock more and more, threatening to tip us both into the water.  John said something to me, but I still couldn’t make out his words.  This, along with the growing amount of smoke that was obscuring my vision, frustrated me beyond belief.

     “What?” I yelled, trying to make out his words. 

     He started to talk, saying, “I lo-”

     And the boat rocked to the side as far as it could go, and I fell, plunging not into the ocean, but into blackness.  With a jolt I sat up straight in bed, breathing hard and shaking, my legs tangled in the sheets.  My aunt stood beside the bed, looking down at me with sympathy.  “You had a bad dream Liz.  Although,” she added sheepishly, “I don’t think my rocking you helped all that much.”