Friday morning I woke up feeling nervous but otherwise okay. I got up, showered, got dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. Aunt Sarah was putting pancakes on a plate as I came down and smiled at me.
"Good morning, Sweetheart. How'd you sleep?"
"Morning. I slept okay," I smiled back.
"You look, I don't know, better? Better rested?" Aunt Sarah said. I shrugged. I hadn't told them about my dream yet. I would. I just...hadn't.
Uncle Brendon came in the front door with the dogs.
"Hey! Look who's up. You ready for school?" He asked. I nodded through a mouthful of pancake.
Once I was done eating, Aunt Sarah drove me to school.
I was floating through the day, excited by the thought of Dylan coming over to watch a movie tonight, and feeling lighter after having talked to Dr. Angela yesterday. I hadn't had a dream like I'd had Tuesday night. And I have to admit, I'd been looking to see if Brandi would suddenly appear in my waking world. She hadn't, I wasn't hallucinating. Maybe Dr. Angela was right and it was really me and my subconscious giving me permission to let go of feeling guilty about the accident.
Aunt Sarah picked me up from school and I was all over the place trying to figure out what I should wear. Was this a date? Could this be considered a date?
I went upstairs after we had dinner and as I was looking through my clothes I had a thought intrude on me. What if he's like Tristan?
I pulled on sweatpants and a hoodie. I didn't want to show off too much.
I went downstairs once I was changed.
"Sam?" Aunt Sarah said as I came down the stairs. "What's up? Why are you in sweats? I thought you were going to put on jeans."
"What if he's like Tristan?" I asked.
"I think he's very much not like Tristan," Aunt Sarah said. "For starters, he asked to give you a hug on Monday when we came to get you. He didn't seem to be acting. But sweetheart, we're going to be right here. If you're feeling even a little uncomfortable, just let me or Brendon know, and we'll do something. Okay?"
I nodded. I was way more nervous now. I couldn't stop thinking how Tristan had seemed trustworthy and nice. What if Dylan was the same? I never thought Tristan would be that kind of person.
"Hey, Sam," Dylan said, coming into the living room, where I was sort of standing.
"Hey Dylan," I said, putting my hands in my hoodie pocket to stop me from chewing on my thumbnail.
"I, uh, I brought chips," he said, holding up a tote bag. I smiled at him.
"Thanks," I said.
"You two go get your movie set up. I made you popcorn and there are drinks in the fridge," Aunt Sarah said. "We'll be outside for a while. Just sitting and chatting."
"Where we will be able to hear you," Uncle Brendon said. I rolled my eyes at him.
"What movie are you watching?" Aunt Sarah asked.
"Uh, 'The Shining'," Dylan said. "The Kubrick version. Sam's never seen it."
"Ooh. Good choice. I might stay and watch," Uncle Brendon said. I shot him a look. "Or, maybe not."
They went into the backyard and I turned on the movie. Dylan took the remote and navigated the menu. We both sat on the couch facing the TV. I didn't know what to do. Where should my hands be? Should I curl up the way I usually do when I watch TV? Should l be closer to Dylan? Further away?
"Are you thirsty?" I asked.
"Um, a little," Dylan said.
"I'll get drinks," I said, jumping up and going into the kitchen.
"Do you need a hand?" He asked.
"No thanks. Coke, Sprite or uh... that's it," I said.
"Umm, a Coke is fine, thanks. Want me to open the chips?"
"If you want," I said.
I carried his Coke and my Coke Zero into the living room with the bowl of popcorn. I sat back down on the couch and handed Dylan his drink.
"Thanks," he said. I smiled. I sat back down and Dylan started the movie. I sat back on the sofa and pulled my left knee up.
We shared the chips and the popcorn, and I had my hand beside me on the sofa. Suddenly, I felt Dylan's hand touching mine. I looked over at him and smiled shyly. He smiled back. His hand covered mine and at first I froze. But he didn't do anything more, so I relaxed and kept watching Jack Nicholson's character's descent into madness. Dylan's hand slowly enclosed mine and I let him. I smiled at him again and he smiled back.
We kept watching the movie.
"Everything good?" Uncle Brendon asked as he came into the house and passed through the living room.
"Huh?" I said, sitting up. I looked down at my hand and pulled it away from Dylan's. "Yeah. Everything's fine."
"How's the movie?" Uncle Brendon asked.
"It's pretty good," I said. "Creepy."
Dylan smiled.
"Well, if you get scared, Penny Lane, Bogart or Dylan are right here for you," Uncle Brendon said. The dogs had curled up on the floor near us.
"Are you equating Dylan to the dogs?" I asked.
"No, of course not. Just saying. I'm going to go out to my studio for a bit but your aunt is going to be in the kitchen. If you guys want anything, feel free. Sam, just remember to bolus," Uncle Brendon said.
"You say that like I haven't been diabetic for nearly ten years," I rolled my eyes while smirking at him.
He winked at us and went back outside.
Aunt Sarah came in a few minutes later.
"Hey guys. You ate the popcorn?" She asked.
"Yeah," I said. Dylan was holding my hand again. I saw Aunt Sarah smile.
The movie ended and I stared at the screen.
"So?" Dylan said.
"I don't understand!" I said. "How is he in that old picture? Who is he?! Who was he? Was he always part of the hotel? I. Don't. Get. It!"
Dylan laughed.
"You could probably go down a deep rabbit hole with all the theories online," he laughed. "Some think that the hotel 'got' Jack, and therefore he's now a permanent part which means he's always been a part of the hotel. Some think he might be descended from one of the caretakers from the early 1900s. It's kind of crazy the things people came up with. There's even a documentary about the movie. It's kinda cool."
I smiled.
"It was a great movie though, thanks, Dylan. I don't think I'm going to sleep well tonight," I laughed. He did, too.
We chatted for a little while, Aunt Sarah bustling about in the kitchen and Uncle Brendon wandering back and forth.
"I should get going," Dylan said. "My car has a curfew."
"Your car, has a curfew?" I asked, incredulously.
Dylan laughed.
"Yeah. It's my parents' way of giving me a curfew without giving me a curfew. Technically, I could drop my car off at home and go out again," he laughed.
"That does it. Sam, next time you go out it's your leg that has a curfew," Uncle Brendon laughed.
"So, if I decide not to wear it, that means I don't have a curfew," I smirked. "Thanks!"
Aunt Sarah laughed.
"Well, that backfired," Uncle Brendon said. I grinned at him.
"I take it back," he said.
"I dunno..." I said, laughing.
"Sam, I'll text you tomorrow?" Dylan asked.
"Yeah, sure. Drive safe. Let me know when you get home?"
He nodded, looked like he was going to give me a hug, then stopped. Then moved towards me again.
"Can I give you a hug?" He asked. I blushed and nodded. He wrapped his arms around me, I reciprocated. It felt... okay. Safe.
I saw Uncle Brendon and Aunt Sarah share a look. But they didn't look upset or anything.
Dylan left and I went into the living room and picked up the popcorn bowl, the empty chip bag and our cans of pop. I rinsed the bowl, tossed the garbage and put the bowl in the dishwasher. I was humming and hadn't noticed at first.
"He's nice," Aunt Sarah said, smiling. I blushed.
"Do you have a crush on him?" She asked. I smiled but didn't answer. Aunt Sarah came around the counter and hugged me.
Once I was done cleaning up, I went upstairs and got ready for bed. Once done, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. It had been a nice night. Dylan was nice. He was sweet. I don't know if he knows about Tristan but he's always been so careful about asking my permission before touching me.
"Knock knock," Uncle Brendon's voice came from the doorway. "Are you decent?"
"I'm in bed," I said, indicating that meant I was definitely dressed and decent. He came into my room and sat on the bed beside me.
"He's a nice kid," Uncle Brendon said. I nodded.
"Think there's something there?" He asked. I shrugged.
"Well, he is welcome here any time. But not if we aren't here," Uncle Brendon said seriously. I smiled at him.
"Fair," I said.
Just then, my phone beeped. It was Dylan texting that he'd made it home and he'd check in tomorrow. Uncle Brendon smiled when he saw the text.
"Good night," he said.
"Good night," I replied. He kissed my forehead and went to the door. Aunt Sarah was in the doorway, too.
"Good night, Sam," she smiled.
"Night," I said back.
It didn't take long before I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
I woke up to a rare sight in Los Angeles on Saturday morning. It was raining.
I got up, got dressed, put on my leg and went downstairs. Uncle Brendon was on his laptop in the kitchen.
"Hey, Sam," he said, distractedly.
"Hi. Everything okay?" I asked.
"What?" He asked, looking up at me. "Oh, yeah. Everything's fine. Just checking emails and stuff."
I nodded as I put some yogurt, fruit and granola in a bowl.
"Sarah's going grocery shopping today, if you want to go with her. Or, if you have homework, you should do that.
I nodded.
"And you still haven't called your parents," he said. I swallowed.
"Can I talk to you about something?" I asked.
"Of course. Is everything okay?" He asked. I nodded.
"I already talked to Dr. Angela about this, so don't worry about how I'm handling it, but I have to tell you about something that happened Tuesday night. I think it's okay, and I think it's not going to happen again, but it sort of scared me. Dr. Angela helped me figure some things out, though."
"Okay," Uncle B said.
I took a deep breath and told him about the dream I'd had where Brandi had shown up in my room. I told him what Dr. Angela had said, and what we were both thinking it might have been. Uncle Brendon didn't interrupt me once. He listened, nodded in the right places and waited until I was done before he said anything.
"And you haven't seen her since? So to speak."
"No. I think Dr. Angela was right. It was my own subconscious letting me let go of the guilt of surviving. I asked her what if my screaming at Brandi was what caused her to crash into the truck. She, Dr. Angela I mean, said what if my screaming at Brandi made her swerve enough in time that I survived. I hadn't thought of that."
Uncle Brendon nodded.
"Me neither," he said. "But yeah. Maybe you screaming at her is what saved your life."
"Maybe. But then there's the question of the drinks spiked with X. How do I find out if Brandi got a spiked drink?"
"You could ask her parents," he said.
"How do I ask them that?" I said. "That seems like a question that is none of my business."
"Well, I think if you want to know, you're going to have to ask," he said, simply. I sighed.
"Sam, you should still call your parents and tell them about Monday. And your dream. And last night," he grinned. He wasn't wrong, so I picked up my phone and called home.