Day 33 Page 3

  DAY 7

  RAP MUSIC blasted over the surround sound system inside the brown tavern-themed bar. The air smelled of Long Islands and French fries. Glasses hung above the bar stools, and televisions displayed the football and basketball games. The wood panels were a polished, darkened brown, and stools were scattered over the gray tiled floor.

  Kasha was seated in the back-left corner, waving her hand in the air frantically for Evita to notice. The overweight, bald-headed bouncer at the front door slowly drew an X on Evita’s right hand as proof she’d shown her ID. She smiled as she walked toward the back table. She was giddy with excitement to finally have a chance to sit with her best, and some would assume only, friend for the first time in two years.

  “Your hair is so long now! How have you been? I missed you!” Kasha immediately stood from her chair, smiling from ear to ear, and showing every single tooth in her mouth. Kasha raised her arms toward the sky and Evita fell into her embrace. For the first time in a while, Evita felt some sort of familiarity, which quickly reminded her of the troubles she’d been having.

  “Girl, we have a lot to talk about. I need a strong drink and your help, big time”, Evita waved down the waitress to place her order.

  “Oh honey, I cannot save you, you’ll have to save yourself”, Kasha let out a hardy laugh.

  “What?” Evita felt like she was having a frightening Deja vu.

  “I said I can’t save you girl! What are you going to drink?” Kasha was glancing at the menu oblivious to Evita’s nervous breakdown.

  “That’s what I mean, this is exactly what I mean.” Evita’s smile faded away and she put her hands over her face. Kasha put her menu down and asked if she was okay. The two of them realized the waitress was standing next to Evita, and Evita quickly ordered two double shots of whiskey and an order of party wings.

  “A double shot? What’s going on honey? I never knew you to drink so much”, Kasha was always a jokester, but she actually showed some concern, which made Evita feel as though she needed to worry a bit more. Evita leaned in toward Kasha to speak low enough for no one to hear, but loud enough to overpower the speakers.

  “Dreams, I keep having these dreams, K.” Kasha took the last sip of the beer she’d ordered before Evita sat down. She gulped heavily with curiosity and fear. “You said something that reminded me of a dream I had the other night. I mean, you said it word for word. I’ve actually been seeing somebody about them”

  “Seeing somebody, like a shrink? Or seeing a new man? Because child, I’ve been meaning to tell you about Brennan” Kasha giggled to lighten the mood.

  “I’m serious K. I mean a therapist. Well, I went for the first time a couple of days ago. She has me wondering what really happened between my mom and dad”. The waitress brought Evita her shot, which she immediately tossed it back and asked for another. Kasha’s memories of The Reverend weren’t too fond. She attended Reverend Thomas’ church and met Evita in the choir when they were both 13. It was a month after Vivian passed and Kasha was new to the town. The two instantly clicked and Evita felt comfortable sharing the memories she had of her mother with Kasha.

  The two would do each other’s hair, paint each other’s nails, and shop for the same outfits together. Evita often spent some of her free Saturdays with Kasha, but only under the watchful eye of her step-mother. When they reached their late teenage years, Kasha would help Evita sneak out on dates with their classmates since Reverend Thomas would never allow such things to occur while Evita was still living under his roof. The rare moments that Kasha came into contact with The Reverend, she was being reprimanded at choir practice or being escorted from bible study classes for playing around with Evita in the back of the room.

  “These aren’t normal dreams though, Kasha. They’re dark, they’re vivid. I remember them throughout the day. I even had one at work”

  “Well you did used to have them when we were younger.” Kasha reminded her.

  “I know, the doctor asked me to read my dream journals. I wonder; why would I have them again, after what… thirteen years?” Evita tossed back her second double shot and waved her hand for another. “The ones I’m having now are different, as if they’re a result of me not paying attention to the dreams I had before.”

  “Maybe they’re trying to tell you something” Kasha said sarcastically, but it made Evita think even harder.

  These dreams brought back things she didn’t necessarily want to remember. She loved her mom and the time they spent together, but those memories were hard. Evita was so far removed from that time and space. She lived in DC now, a big city, all on her own, working for Slam and living with what used to be the man of her dreams. She hadn’t even spoken to her own father in eight years, and the last time was the day she left Virginia. Everything she’d been running from was coming to the surface from her subconscious and forcing her to deal with it.

  Kasha assured Evita that whatever she needed, she’d be there for her, but Evita knew this was going to be a journey that she would have to travel alone. Brennan hadn’t been supportive, and nobody at Slam was trustworthy enough for her to confide in other than Donald, and even that was pushing it. Evita wasn’t usually one for “signs from the universe” or “everything happening for a reason”, but these dreams were too intense to ignore.

  The two of them drank some more, and discussed politics, reality TV, and attractive male actors for a couple of hours before deciding to part ways. They hugged outside of the bar and Kasha reiterated her offer of support. Kasha walked to the nearest metro station and Evita walked slowly to her vehicle. A single drop of water fell on Evita’s head, which led to a sudden downpour of rain.

  Evita began running in the direction of her car, which was still two blocks away. She held her purse over her head for minimal protection. Once she reached the curb and her car was in eyes view, the “Don’t Walk” sign began flashing and traffic was heavy on this Saturday night. She dropped her purse from over top of her head in defeat, knowing she’d be soaked regardless.

  Evita was trying to catch her breath form her impromptu sprint, when someone tapped her on the right shoulder. Evita quickly turned around assuming it might be Kasha. It was the old lady from her dream, with her knotted, gray hair dripping with rain, smelling of mildew. Her white linen dress was dingy with mud from the neck to the ankle. She wore another eerie grin on her face and her eyes pierced through Evita’s body. The lady lifted both of her hands and grabbed Evita’s shoulders tightly. Her finger tips pierced Evita’s blades, and Evita wanted to shout for help, but sound was trapped in her throat.

  Evita was startled awake in her bed, next to Brennan, panting and sweating yet again. She looked around to see where she was. Although she wore a pink silk pajama set, Evita remembered being at the bar with Kasha. She immediately checked her hand for the black X. It was still there.

  DAY 9

  “I‘M GOING to suggest you go back home to Virginia and speak with your father. Maybe it will help some more memories arise”, Diana informed Evita of her next steps, as she sat with perfect posture across from her patient, wearing another special-tailored suit. This one was a shiny gold, satin fabric and she wore black heels with matching accessories to make it pop. Diana was concerned, but was also optimistic about this tactic helping Evita’s process.

  “Doc, I believe you know what you’re talking about, but my father is… different”, Evita said as she nervously picked the white tips off of her fingernails.

  “How so?” Diana had already gauged the answer to that from their previous session, but was determined to get Evita to say it for herself.

  “He’s a pastor, he doesn’t believe in”, Evita paused,

  “This… stuff.”

  “What stuff?” Diana smirked.

  “Therapy. He believes that church and Jesus and bible study is what someone like me would need.” Evita was growing frustrated with having to revisit her father’s style of child rearing.

&nb
sp; “Someone like you?” Diana continued to fish.

  “You know, someone with mental problems.”

  “You don’t have mental problems, Ms. Thomas. Some might say you have an extraordinary mind, an extraordinary gift”, Diana smirked again.

  “A gift? How are night sweats and seeing creepy old women a gift?”

  “Dreams are simply messages from our subconscious, either alarming us of past pains that have yet to heal, or warnings of what is to come, somewhat prophetic. Some even believe that dreams signify spiritual growth. Your soul is expanding and needs your conscious help to guide you in the waking life”, Evita’s aggravation turned to interest. “If you were living your best life, being your best self, is this who you would be?” Evita looked downward, knowing the answer would be no. “Your dreams may be trying to tell you that; by showing you why you’re stagnant in life, mind, body, and most of all, spirit.”

  Evita never once identified herself as “stagnant”. In her eyes, she had a good job, a nice place, a “boyfriend”, and a car. What was stagnant about that? She also hadn’t built any new close friendships and was unable to speak much about her past without becoming upset.

  Later that night, Brennan sat at the kitchen table, sipping a beer and reading Slam.

  “Babe, you guys don’t have nearly enough baseball articles. I mean come on, it’s America’s past time!” Brennan chuckled. He sipped a beer and rudely smacked on a burrito while covered in a white sleeveless undershirt, arm tattoos from shoulder to wrist, black gym shorts, and a red Nationals baseball cap. Evita ignored him completely as she stood over by the cabinets looking through her dream journal for any old entries about her father. She finally found one, a week after her 26th birthday, less than 9 months prior.

  The entry claimed Evita’s father smoked a cigar while sitting in a desk chair in the clergyman office at the church back at home. Evita entered the room and warned him that smoking was bad for his health. Reverend Thomas laughed and said that he’d done far worse. Evita’s response was hesitant, and she reassured him smoking was most likely a sin, since he’s tarnishing his temple with tobacco. The Reverend boldly and arrogantly stated, “My sins far outnumber the tobacco fields in all of the south”.

  The Reverend stood up and quickly walked toward Evita, placing the cigar on Evita’s chest near her heart. This must have been painful enough to wake Evita from her rest, because that was the end of the entry. Evita could barely remember this dream. She wondered why it wasn’t engrained in her memory.

  “Babe?” Brennan spoke between chunks of cheese, chicken and rice. “What’s going on with you lately?”

  Evita slammed the journal shut. “Would you want to meet my dad, go to the country and visit him?” It was ironic, Evita was nervous to delve in too deep in conversation with Brennan about what she was dealing with, but needed his company on one of the riskiest trips she’d ever taken in her life. She could never convince Kasha to come with her, as she’d avoided The Reverend since they graduated high school.

  “I thought you didn’t like your dad. I just knew I was going to get away without having to cross this bridge”, Brennan awkwardly chuckled.

  “It has to do with my dreams”, Evita said as she knew she had to start being upfront and truthful about the situation, with herself and with the few close people in her life as well. She also wondered how she could live under the same roof as someone and not be able to share this with them.

  “You’re crazy, girl”, he said dismissively, “But I’ll go with you.” Brennan continued reading his baseball article. That wasn’t the most endearing response, but it was better than what Evita expected.

  DAY 10

  BRENNAN’S willingness to visit her father, gave Evita some hope this lovely morning. She had escaped the night without a dream for once and woke up to her normal 5:00 AM alarm. Evita went into the bathroom, slowly approaching the mirror, fearing a repeated hallucination. She took a deep breath and opened the door for her toothpaste, squinting her eyes shut as she closed it. When she reopened her eyes, Evita was relieved to see only her reflection. She took extra time to pick her afro evenly on all sides. Eyeliner and mascara was carefully placed around her well-rested eyes and she wore a purple lipstick to match the blouse she so carefully ironed, to pair with pressed black slacks.

  Donald noticed the extra care, as he made his routine stop into Evita’s cubicle. She was busy reading through another one of her team member’s article for the weekend’s publication.

  “Well, you look nice”, Donald said as he took his usual post on the rear desk. Evita giggled. “You must not need that doctor anymore, huh?” he asked.

  “Well no, I’m going to see her after I get off today”, Evita continued typing away.

  “Oh…” Donald regretted what he had said. “Is everything okay?” Evita was tired of Donald being so nosey, and felt it was best to just give him the info he had been fishing for. After all, he was the most helpful person thus far. “I didn’t have any dreams last night, but I’m sure they’ll return”, she explained as Donald listened up. “I had them when my mother passed—”

  “I didn’t know your mother passed…”

  “When I was 13, that’s when the dreams started. When I moved here, I hadn’t had them for a while, until this year. They became…” she was cautious as how to word the next bit of information, “the dreams became more detailed, more memorable.” Evita explained she was having a good day, but the problem hadn’t been solved and that she always felt uneasy about her mother’s death, as if everything hadn’t yet been revealed. She informed Donald that the following week she’d be taking time off to visit her father, as her doctor suggested. Donald was appointed acting editor in Evita’s absence and was pleased to know he’d be working on the magazine’s leading headlines.

  Evita left work an hour early and drove on her way to the doctor’s office. She blasted old TLC songs and scoffed down a burger and sweet tea. Her cell phone rang and she looked at the caller ID, which displayed an unknown number, so she ignored it and continued sipping through her straw. It rang again, and this time, Evita wondered if it was an important call, but told herself she’d wait until after her appointment to return it. The ringing wouldn’t stop, so as Evita approached a red light, she decided to answer.

  The voice was very soft, reminiscent of the phone call she had the other day at work. Worry began to bubble in Evita’s chest as the whispers continued. She moved the phone away from her ear, and placed it on speaker, sitting it on the passenger seat.

  “Hello?” Her voice trembled. The light turned green and she slowly pulled off. Meanwhile, the voice grew louder. “Evita, Evita, Evita”. Initially the receiver emitted a calm tone, a woman’s voice. However, as Evita continued driving, the voice grew in volume like a song’s crescendo and the tone turned from a high to low pitch. The voice was rumbling through the speakers and sent chills down Evita’s spine. She quickly ended the call, only for it to ring again.

  The ringing snapped Evita from an unknown nap and when she opened her eyes, she was parked in front of Diana’s office. She gasped for air, grabbed her phone, and quickly ran through the front door.

  The receptionist shouted “wait!” wanting Evita to sign in and sit for her appointment, which wasn’t due to start for another ten minutes. Inside the main office, Diana sat with another patient, an older white man, who wore belted khakis up to his stomach and generic blue polo shirt. He was as confused as he was bald when Evita burst through the door, waving a cell phone in the air and shouting incomprehensible banter.

  “Evita!” Diana ran toward her, closing the door and gently grabbing her wrists, pulling her into the room. “What is wrong with you?” Evita tried catching her breath.

  “I can come back”, the old man could understand, he had been in that position before and today must have been one of his more evolved sessions with Diana where he wasn’t in such a frenzy as Evita had been. He calmly left and flashed an expre
ssion to Evita that assured her he understood, shutting the door behind him.

  “Have a seat”, Diana sat next to Evita on the leather couch, “what’s going on?”

  “I keep getting strange phone calls, but I might have been dreaming it, I just—”

  “Calls from who?” Diana grabbed the phone and began searching through the recent calls list, there wasn’t any unknown numbers.

  “It’s getting worse, I think I’m hallucinating or something”, Evita began to sob.

  “Try to calm down”, Diana placed the hone down on the couch and rubbed Evita’s back. She asked her what happened. Evita explained what she’d heard and Diana was taken aback.

  “It was my father, it had to be.”

  “Dreams and hallucinations are very different, sweetie. You’re having trouble sleeping, you’re bound to doze off. You have to confront these fears, Evita, period.” Diana allowed Evita to spend the rest of her session crying and assured her that she’d be okay. She offered Evita sleeping pills, but Evita didn’t believe in prescription medication. She had seen the numerous commercials with endless side effects and decided against taking any pills. Diana didn’t force it, and after their thirty minutes was up, Evita slowly strolled to her vehicle, dragging her work shoes.

  As she buckled her seat belt, wiping the last tears that had fallen, her phone rang again. This time the caller ID displayed Brennan’s name, allowing Evita to breathe again.

  “Babe, I’m headed to happy hour with the guys tonight, just wanted to let you know”, Brennan quickly informed Evita and hung up the phone. For Evita, this was bittersweet. She never cared much about Brenna’s presence in the home until recently, but she knew tonight was a night to stay to herself without any distractions.