Our Place - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

David

Some days are not meant to happen. They should just stay where they came from, never to emerge. They could be bottled, thrown into a pit. They could be beaten, left too bruised to come to light.

Today was one of those days. Every day, yesterday, today, tomorrow, was one of those days. Things just don’t go the way I want them to. They never happen as planned.

I hear a voice. Someone is calling to me. They want to me to get up and get out of bed, to be cheerful and seize the day. It is my wife.

David, she tells me. You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t wake up. Why are you so difficult?

She doesn’t sound angry. Just defeated. Two years, we’ve been married, and the daily quarrels have begun. I thought those were supposed to wait another year or two. Or three.

I will, I tell her. I will.

She leaves. I roll over and pull the comforter over my head. I won’t. And that’s when I dream.

Adella

I am what you might call a morning person. I get up, get going. I move, I groove. Up with the sun, or the rooster.

I am not, however, a day person.

Mornings and evenings are easy because no one expects anything from me. I can rest, relax, rejuvenate. Nobody calls or yells at me. They save that for daytime.

I am dressed now, in my car. Horns beep and radios blare. It is so blah, so everyday. I need a change, I say silently. I need someone.

Everybody always tells me I need “a man” in my life. They say it will change my attitude, my outlook, etc. It is getting tiring to hear. A man would only complicate things.

At work, it is just like the road outside. Except the horns are bosses, the radios are coworkers intent on giving advice. Background noise. I sit at my computer, eyes glaze over. I am tired. Perhaps I should sleep in, or go to sleep earlier. But do I really want to lose my special time?

No, I tell myself. I don’t. So buck up, Adella. Smile.

I smile, or try to. It really shouldn’t be that difficult to push my cheeks upward, to crinkle my eyes and look happy. It shouldn’t, really.

Adella, someone says.

I turn. See my boss, John. He looks unhappy.

Adella, he repeats. You’re late.

I am? No way. I wake up so early every day, how can I be late? I check my watch – he’s right. Something inside me sinks. I messed up again.

I’m sorry, I say.

John frowns. It’s been like this for a long time, he points out. Something is wrong.

You’re right. Something is wrong, I agree.

Smile. Nod. Look sorry. Something is wrong. But what? I pray John won’t tell me I need a man. Please, not that.

Is everything okay with your family? I know there’ve been some issues, he says.

How do you know that?

He looks uncomfortable. There’s been some talk around the office, he says quietly. I won’t pry, but things need to get worked out. I can’t have it affecting your work, he says. He walks away. I watch his back, his shiny bald head until it’s gone around the corner.

Something is wrong.

~
At first, it’s very dark. I can’t see. My eyes squint, strain.

Then I hear, ouch. There’s a person ahead of me.

Damn sidewalk, the person says. Damn idiot construction workers.

There is some light, coming down as if filtering through leaves. But now, in the dappled light, I can see there are no trees. I am in front of the office, facing the road. There are no cars. There are no people or dogs, or workers or businessmen or hobos. It is empty. Deathly quiet.

And I can see the person in front of me, a man who looks to be in his mid-20s. His hair is too long. It needs a trim. He is holding his foot and hobbling slightly. I laugh.

He turns and faces me. I can see his unshaven face, his eyes the same slate grey as the sky above us.

Hello, he says. What’s funny? But he smiles and drops his foot.

You looked kind of silly, I tell him. But not anymore.

Oh, he says, still smiling. Then his face drops. Who are you, he asks.

Adella.

I’m David.

Nice to meet you. Where are we? Is this a dream?

If we know it’s a dream, then is it still a dream? Or is it something different?

I am confused. I tell him, You are very complex. Do you live here?

No, he says. I live half an hour from here. I think. I’ve never been on this street before. What about you?

I work in this building.

David nods, relaxing. I still wonder, he says, if this is a dream. How can I dream about a place I’ve never been before, a woman I’ve never met? Though you look to be the stuff of dreams.

I blush. I don’t know what to say. So I ask, David, what’s your last name? You look so familiar.

He opens his mouth as if to speak, and he says my name in a voice that is not his.
~
Adella! Jeez, wake up.

It is my sister, younger than me by only 3 years.

You were sleeping hard, she tells me. Who’s David?

He’s nobody, I say. It was only a dream.