July 19 Read online

  So instead of going to the party that night, I found my mind wandering to the story Andrew had told me earlier in the day about Owen. It seemed weird to me that I could feel so sad for someone I had never even met, but it stayed with me, and I couldn’t ignore it. I tried to find him on Facebook, but there was no one named Owen Tate under the age of about 55. Then it occurred to me that if I went through the images from the game on my camera, I may be able to figure out who this guy is. After all, it was Owen who gave the school reminder on the PA about the game. He was sure to be there himself, right? It was a long shot, but I was home for the night with not much to do, so I downloaded the images onto my laptop and decided to go through them one by one. I put on the radio and listened to “the best of the nineties” as I went on my quest to find him. I looked into the eyes of everyone in the stands, trying to eliminate the people I knew and the people who looked like they didn’t just lose their parents. I don’t really know what I thought I’d see, but I was intensely searching. Maybe I looked right at him and didn’t know it, but I still didn’t know who Owen was. As I shut my laptop, I decided that I was obsessing about a boy I didn’t even know, for absolutely no reason. I let it go.

  Chapter 4

  A week later, I walked into the yearbook committee meeting excited. I had shot some photos of the rugby game, some lunch time candids in the cafeteria, and class time in various classrooms. I had become very good at slinking into spaces without being observed and capturing moments that told little stories. When it was my turn for my committee update, I opened my laptop, hooked up the smart board, and let the slideshow roll. I heard laughter, sighs, giggles, and in the end, I saw smiles. That was only one week! I had so much more to do, but everyone was so pleased with my work so far. I felt really good when Andrew turned toward me afterward and gave me a thumbs-up.

  Jake and I had been spending less time together because we were both pretty busy with other things. I felt badly about that so I decided to make him something to let him know I was still thinking about him. One of the photos from the rugby match was of him passing the ball. His body was all flexed and his face was intensely concentrating on making the pass. No surprise, he looked totally hot. It was Jake at his athletic best and I knew he would love it. I printed the image in the school darkroom in an 8 x 10 format and framed it between 2 pieces of glass and in floating frame. It looked amazing — like a professional athlete, shot by a professional photographer. I couldn't wait to give it to him.

  We met up in the small quad after school. I had wrapped the framed photo in newspaper. Jake wasn’t sure why I wanted to meet so when he saw the gift, his eyes lit up. “What’s that?” he said curiously.

  “Just a little something for you. I hope you like it,” I said, handing him the gift.

  He carefully pulled at the tape, revealing the frame. “Hmmm, a frame?”

  “Well, if you open it up, you’ll see what’s in the frame…”

  As he ripped the paper more, and turned the frame over, I saw his face light up. “Oh my God! I love it! Thank you!”

  It wasn’t just words, he couldn’t take his eyes off the picture. He was enjoying looking at, and admiring, himself.

  “This is the greatest gift anyone has ever got me!” He kissed me, clutching his gift.

  But the mood changed almost immediately when he asked me if I wanted to go to yet another party the coming weekend. This was my second chance, if I wanted to make a different decision. I did strongly consider it this time; I guess Dani was in my head, encouraging me to take a risk with him which was why I didn’t say no, immediately. The problem was, the louder voice in my head was saying, why doesn’t he just get it…why doesn't he just get me? If he wants a girl who parties, he could easily have that. What does he want with me?

  I decided to take a different tack when I finally responded, “Well, what do you think?” I asked, “Will I like it?”

  “Well the last party was pretty wild, not gonna lie,” he confessed, and looked at me sheepishly.

  “I’m not such a wild child, Jake.”

  “Ya, I know. You’re like the opposite of a wild child,” he said, stating the obvious.

  “So, I’ll take a pass, okay?” I asked, as I looked up at him with my innocent eyes.

  “Yeah,” he said nodding slowly, “you should probably take a pass.”

  There we had it. He finally got it. But he was still going to the party. Without me.

  The serenity of my sleep was something I was strangely looking forward to each night. I almost couldn’t wait for my head to hit the pillow, so I could drift off to the places and the feelings in my head. The people…the music…the whole feeling was becoming so intense that opening my eyes in the morning was difficult and jarring. I hated leaving my dreams, but I enjoyed starting each day with the feeling of elation and peace. I knew there was something a little strange about the consistent pattern of my dreams, but I wasn’t spooked or concerned. How could I be? I just didn’t want it to stop. I anxiously put my head on my pillow, welcoming sleep and the magical place that came with it.

  The air was cool, and the sky was overcast, as it was most early mornings here. I looked over my shoulder as I peddled and smiled at him. He reached out, taking his hand off the handle bars. I reached back to him and held his hand, bringing our two bikes closer together. Pure bliss.

  Jake walked into Chemistry class five minutes late and gave me a nice squeeze on the knee under our table. I giggled. While we worked on an assignment together I casually asked, “How was the party?”

  He said, “It was fun, if you like to play beer pong, which is what we did the whole time.”

  I made a good decision by not going, I thought to myself.

  Then he added, “most of the cheerleaders showed up too and they got pretty rowdy.”

  My mind wandered once he said that. Some, if not all of those girls had to be attracted to him. I wondered what he was like around them. Did he hold back his flirtatious nature because of our relationship? This was the big downside of not going to these parties with him. I’d have to suck it up. He asked how my reading was that night and I confessed to having read for just an hour and then watching music videos of songs from the nineties. I stopped there though. I didn’t want to tell him that I had become obsessed with the music from my recurring dreams. I didn’t feel close enough to him in that way. Not yet. Maybe never.

  I was really enjoying my art class this semester. We started drawing using pencils and charcoals, which was good for me because I’d spent most of my artistic energy painting with acrylics. I thought it might be cool to somehow combine the two and get a multi-media effect. All these new images in my head from my dreams were definitely inspiring. I had started trying to translate my dreams onto canvas at home in my spare time. In doing so, I was honing my skills, and at the same time, I was reliving the moments from my dreams.

  I ran into Ms. Chambers, my art teacher, on my way out of school and she said that she was so impressed with my work in class. She asked me if I’d been taking courses outside of school and was surprised when I said that I was self-taught, with a little help from my mom. I told her about the canvases I’d been working on at home and promised her that I’d take some photos to show her. She said that we’d start working on the human form in the coming weeks and we’d be able to bring in some photos of our choice to work from. At the end of the session, she’d be bringing in a model for us to draw in charcoal. I was so excited for that!

  I woke a little earlier so that I could take the photos of my canvases to show Ms. Chambers. I was glad to have another set of eyes to get some feedback that wasn’t from my parents and friends. I always felt badly for the contestants on talent shows with terrible voices who’d always been told by their family and friends that they were great singers. I wanted some objectivity and was hoping she’d provide it. I had art class last period and stayed after to show the photos of my work to Ms. Chambers. I told her that it was important to me that she be honest, and she
promised she would be.

  “Aria your work has so much feeling and personality. I love your forms and use of color. These are just terrific. I honestly don’t have anything constructive to say. I am amazed at what you’ve accomplished,” Ms. Chambers said.

  I felt myself blushing. “Really? You mean it? Nothing you would have done differently?” I asked.

  “I would tell you if there was something. You have a wonderful style that doesn’t need alteration,” she said.

  I thanked her for being so supportive and packed up my work.

  Dani and Caroline were waiting for me by my locker.

  “What did Ms. Chambers think of your art?” Dani asked.

  “She loved it,” I said shyly.

  “See, I told you, it’s not just ‘cause we’re your friends. Your stuff is amazing!” she said.

  “Yeah, I wish I had half your talent,” chimed Caroline.

  “Thanks guys, it means a lot. It definitely gives me confidence that I should continue the series…”

  “For sure,” Dani said. “If for no other reason, so I can say ‘I knew you when’…long before you became famous!”

  Caroline nodded. I laughed out loud.

  Chapter 5

  The music was loud. Someone brought a boombox down to the beach and we listened to music as we all talked, laughed and swam. It was a little cool as the sun was setting and my tanned skin was alive with goosebumps. Wrapped in a towel, I felt him wrap his arms around me, kissing my neck. The goosebumps spread like wildfire all over my body. He held me closer as he felt me shivering, with cold, and with pleasure. We just swayed to the music.

  When I opened my eyes, “I’ll Be” by Edwin McCain was still playing in my head. I sang it loudly as I got ready for school, aware that my voice was filling the house. I was moving a little slower this morning, still enjoying the mood of my night.

  My mom was getting into her van when I stopped to say goodbye to her on my way to school. My mom owns a gallery in Chestnut Hill, the next town over, and it looked like she was off to an important meeting. I always know by the way she’s dressed whether she is mom, artist or gallery owner. Each has its own wardrobe. In her fitted burgundy dress and high heel boots, she was all gallery owner.

  “Aria, I was just thinking of you. I have to run to work now, but when I get home, I have a proposition for you.” She smiled, almost unable to contain herself.

  “You can’t do that to me! Tell me!” I whined.

  “I’m sorry baby, I’m late for a meeting. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything…too late now...sorry!” she said as she shut the door and smiled with all of her teeth. I jokingly put my hands on her window and smooshed my frowning face against the window for full effect. She kissed her side of the glass and gently put the car in reverse, waving goodbye. What was she up to? I had no choice but to wonder.

  Because of the little interaction with my mom, I got to school a bit later than usual. I walked in, put down my bag and joined the group of late students as we quietly listened to the national anthem. When the anthem ended, I picked up my bag and without enough time to go to my locker, headed directly for my first class.

  And then…goosebumps.

  It was the first few guitar chords, joined by the saxophone, and then…How could this be? “I’ll be” was bellowing through the speakers in the halls of my school the very morning after hearing it in my dreams all night! I stopped dead in my tracks, looking around to see if someone was watching me. For the first time since my dreams started, I felt overwhelmed and a bit crazy. What was happening?

  I really didn't want to be at school after that. Instead, I grabbed my bag and walked straight back home. I went right down to my studio and started working, needing to get it all out of my head. I used pencil to roughly sketch, and then brush strokes to bring the images to life in color. It felt great to see my dreams come out visually. I worked furiously, realizing that this was the only way for me to connect to the world in my dreams. Words could never convey the detail that was in my mind and the feeling…the mood… and the magic. But there, in front of me, that world was coming alive.

  At 2:30 I heard the front door open. I expected it to be my mom, so I sprinted up the stairs. Surprisingly, it was my dad standing there with the phone in his hand. He was on a call, but he blew me a kiss when he saw me emerge from the stairwell. He then put his finger to his lips instructing me to be quiet. Clearly, he didn’t want whoever he was talking to to know he was at home and not at the office. I smiled. I may have skipped school, but clearly, he was skipping work. Not wanting to bother him, I went back downstairs to finish cleaning my brushes. Enough for today, I thought. I had worked for nearly 5 hours — I was starving and exhausted.

  “Ari”, my Dad called, “I’m off the phone now…”

  “Coming,” I yelled back.

  I jogged up the stairs and gave my Dad a kiss. “What are you doing home?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing!” he said with a smirk.

  “I went to school this morning but by the time I got there, I wasn’t feeling very well,” I lied.

  “Looks like you're feeling better now,” he said skeptically.

  “Yeah, I just started feeling better actually.”

  Realizing that he too was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be he said, “Well, we all need a break from the grind some time.”

  “I guess so.” I said, “is that why you’re home early?”

  “That’s exactly why I’m home early,” he smiled.

  “Well, I’m just about to have a bowl of cereal. Want one?”

  “You read my mind,” he said, grabbing two bowls and two spoons.

  It was great to sit and chat with my Dad. We’d both been so busy lately and he’d been travelling more than usual, so having that time with him felt special.

  “You doing okay without Sarah around?” he asked.

  “Okay, I guess. It’s hard,” I paused and confessed, “actually, it kinda sucks.”

  “I know what you mean. I’m just happy she’s so close by. It could be so much worse.” He said that, but I heard the sadness in his voice. He was missing her. We both nodded in agreement. But knowing he felt the same didn't really help though. I think it just made it worse for me, truthfully. Somehow his shared feelings legitimized my sadness.

  Changing the subject, my dad offered to take me for a drive. He thought it would be fun to surprise my mom at the gallery and then to go to the mall for shopping and dinner.

  “I think she had an important meeting at the gallery today. She was all dressed up,” I said.

  “So, I’ll text her to see if it’s over.”

  With that, he whipped out his phone, tapped a message and waited. A moment later his phone chimed, he read the text and said to me, “We’re good. Her meeting’s over, it went well, and now she’s just doing some paperwork. I didn’t tell her we are coming. Come on, let’s go while I know she’s still there…”

  We jumped in the car and put the top down of the convertible. It was pretty cold outside, but the sky was clear, and we were bundled. I was thinking about the dream I had the night before, as I felt the familiar feeling of the breeze over my skin. I closed my eyes and let myself go there as my dad drove.

  My mom jumped up from her desk at the back of the gallery when we walked through the door. Her face lit up! “What are you guys doing here?”

  “Just thought we’d surprise you,” my dad said as he made his way over to give her a hug and kiss.

  She squeezed him back saying, “Best surprise!”

  The gallery looked fresh. My mom had just installed a new exhibition the week before. The artist, Sam Bieber, was from Cape Cod. Reminiscent of Monet’s impressionism, Bieber’s work captured beautiful landscapes in vivid colors.

  “You like?” my mom gestured with her arms towards the exhibit.

  “I love!” I said, wandering around the open space.

  My Dad just nodded as he looked around.

  “The r
esponse has been fantastic. I already have interest from two big art collectors from Boston!”

  “That’s terrific,” my dad hugged her and said, “I’m so proud of you! Come on, let’s get going…I want to buy you something special to celebrate,” my dad said taking my mom’s arm.

  At dinner later that night, my mom cleared her throat and said, “Aria, remember this morning I teased you about something I wanted to propose to you?”

  “Um, how could I forget?” I answered, nervously.

  She reached into her bag and pulled out what looked like a flyer. It said “Perception and Reality, a Mother/Daughter exhibit exclusively at the Chestnut Hill gallery. Opening night June 2, 2016.” I read over the flyer, confused as to what this was all about.

  “Well, what do you think?” she raised her eyebrows inquisitively. “Does that give you enough time?”

  “What? Are you suggesting we are the mother and daughter in this flyer?”

  “Who else?” she raised open palms.

  “I think this is unreal…and scary… but yes! I’d love to do it. Are you kidding?”

  “No, I’m not kidding. I know you’ve been working on your art, and now you can have a focus…a goal… sometimes that helps with the creative process.”

  “I have a confession to make,” I offered, and hesitated, “I kind of skipped school today and ended up working on a new piece. I’m so happy with it. I think it may be part of a new series.”

  “That’s perfect. Well, not the skipping school part…” she looked disappointed momentarily, but then continued, “but it sounds like you have some new inspiration.”

  “Strangely, I do. It’s from my dreams. My dreams have been so vivid and so consistent they almost seem real,” I explained nervously. “So, I don’t really need to be that creative, I just need to paint what I see in my dreams.”

  “Sounds interesting. Maybe they’re not dreams. Maybe they’re fantasies?” My mom was clearly trying to explain, to me and to herself, how there could be a pattern to dreams.