#64

The first time someone appears as a dream instead of a reality is always disorienting.

He appeared on the sixth night.

They were together, working to smuggle a snowmobile out of someone’s home. He needed the snowmobile in order to survive, though it was unclear why.

In order to get it out the door, they had to shut down the security system.

And in order to shut down the security system, they had to cut the electricity to the whole home for a moment, and only a moment, so as not to arouse suspicion.

And in order to cut the electricity, he had to shove her through an air vent and into an attic.

She was scared, but she crawled on her hands and knees as quietly as she could, knowing he was counting on her. When she got to the attic, it was not an attic but a dark room. He was there as well with his back to her, sitting with other men watching a basketball game on television. One of the men was an older friend from Kentucky, someone they both knew separately before they knew him together. Bluntly, she told the Kentucky friend about the separation, but nobody seemed to care. No one looked away from the television. So she got up and walked through a door into a dark and empty movie theater. 

It was between films, and someone had just come through to sweep up popcorn and ticket stubs. She removed a palm frond from her purse which was dry and brittle and began to crumble it on the floor, then stopped, not wanting someone else to get blamed for making a mess. She walked back into the room with the television on. 

He was still there watching the game, but now there were women in the room as well, and it had turned into an exercise studio. The women had just finished an exercise class and their spandex covered bodies glistened with sweat. 

One woman spoke to her:

“I thought you were gone but now that you’re back, are you going to join?”

She said no, rubbing her knee, feigning an injury, and watched him watch the television in the mirrored walls.

She woke up to her alarm. She woke up rubbing her knee.