#35/36 Perspective - Dearcadh

Soaked in sweat as if I had really been sucked beneath the water's surface I shot up from the coarse throw pillow I'd been resting on. Frantically my hands fumbled for my locket, enveloping it tightly in my fists.

It was just a dream. I repeated to myself rocking back and forth in an effort to calm my racing heart.

Or was it a premonition?

I hadn't seen the woman's face, but I would recognize the gentle posture and simple braid anywhere. The woman was my mother, and Monroe was the man in the suit who had so carelessly knocked her over the head with a gigantic painting.

I shivered as the image of her body plummeting into the pond played in such detailed image that I could see the ripples surrounding her like a halo.

But not all of it was a dream, my mother was gone. I had no evidence but I knew in my gut my dreams of reconnecting with her would never happen. Not in this lifetime.

The thought settled in my stomach like silt at the bottom of a lake. I'd lived my entire life without her I rationalized. Then why did this feel different?

Shaking my head of the thought I looked around, it was dark now. Cotton curtains covered a wide bay window behind the couch and as I pulled the faded floral design away I found it to be night time.

How long had I been asleep?

The moon hung low in the sky casting a faded white glow on the vacant sidewalk below. A single car motored by before turning the corner a block down. It was a neighborhood, modest at best with skinny brick apartment buildings smooshed together. A single tree planted in a green patch in the middle of the sidewalk no bigger than a garbage can stood wearily in front of a concrete stair case leading to my right.

Cautiously I swung my legs over the side of the couch letting my bare feet make contact with a muted oriental rug. Willing my body to stand I took a few shaky steps forward. My limbs felt foreign to me, almost like the feeling of walking on solid ground after jumping on a trampoline - except ten times more unsteady and not quite as fun. The room was open save for the a few pieces of furniture along the walls and the chair Lyle had pulled over to set next to me.

Had I imagined her?

Halfway across the room I wobbled reaching out for the wooden mantle that stuck out six inches from the wall. Steadying myself I was about to continue when something caught my eye. Several framed photos stood at odd angles on the smooth wood, all of beautiful scenery from mountains, to lakes to deserts, but only one featured people.

I inched closer using the mantel as my guide like a child in the deep end clutching onto the rim of the pool. The thinly framed photo was of three women. The women on the outside of the grouping were older, in their forties or fifties each with rich jet black hair. Wide smiles of pure happiness radiated from the two women who had their hands around an equally happy Lyle.

Her hair was longer, flowing well past her shoulders. She looked younger and strangely like a different person. Although it was only a photograph, a small snapshot of her life and emotion, she was different; less guarded as her shoulders slumped in comfort under the embrace of the two women. The carefree joy in her smile was no more a recognizable face than that of those in my failed portraits.

Was this her home?

A loud clang sounded from deeper within the house and I flinched at the sharp noise.

Shaking I clutched the mantel. I'd been so busy inspecting the photographs I hadn't even considered someone else was in the house. After all I'd been through today I knew the logical thing to do would be to run to the door and scream at the top of my lungs, yet my curiosity compelled me to inch my way around the corner.

"Shush you are going to wake her." Hissed a feminine voice I did not recognize.

Peering around the corner I spied two women standing ten feet away. Their backs were to me as they stood in the middle of a kitchen with checkered linoleum floors and dried herbs and pots hanging on hooks from the walls.

The women jostled for space at the counter as they playfully intruded each other's area while grabbing cooking utensils or spice jars. The short haired woman turned suddenly meeting my gaze.

"Oh goodness you startled me." She gasped bringing her hand to her heart. I recognized her from the photograph as the woman on Lyle's left side. She had high cheekbones and bobbed dark hair that had taken on flecks of white since the picture was taken.

Her surprised outburst caused her companion to turn around as well. The woman I'd seen on Lyle's right gave me an once over appraisal before a faint smile found her features and she dried her hands on a towel that hung at her waist.

She was similar in age to the first woman, though her hair was much longer and hung in thick straight sheets fanning out on her shoulders and back. Her mocha brown eyes watched me as I stuttered and took a step back.

"I'm sorry, I- I don't know if I should be here, is Lyle..." I trailed off. Neither of the women looked menacing in fact they appeared rather motherly as they took in my deer in head lights reaction.

"Lyle's out getting some eggs, honey. Here why don't you help Beth and I with dinner." The shorthaired woman reached out waving her hand as if I were a lifelong friend before she turned back to the counter.

I rubbed my arms self consciously, maybe I could just wait for Lyle in the other room.

Beth, the longhaired woman seemed to sense my apprehension and flashed me a genuine smile of assurance. "Don't worry we don't bite." She winked.

Was this their home? Bewildered I stared back at the pair. Did they know me? Why else would they be behaving so normally to my intrusion on their privacy. My mind flashed back to the photo of the two women's whole hearted embrace of Lyle. Did they trust me because of Lyle? Did she bring me here?

She must've I wagered, I definitely didn't make it here of my own volition.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked timidly.

"Has to be close to ten hours, doesn't it Ivy?" Beth exchanged a glance with Ivy who migrated to the oven to stir a large pot. She nodded in agreement as she waved me over to taste a spoon full of the concoction. It was a tomato based soup with corn, beans and chunks of canned tomatoes making it thick. My stomach growled, the only thing I'd had to eat that day was a serving of pity French Fries.

"Whatever you took knocked you out good." Beth added chopping up a carrot on a thick wooden cutting board.

"I didn't take anything." I protested and technically this was true. It wasn't of my own free will that I was forced to inhale some anonymous drug.

"Well for someone who didn't take anything you sure look better than when Lyle brought you in. You looked like shit. Ivy damn near had a heart attack."

"Beth." Ivy scolded lightly her face turning red in embarrassment. She handed me the spoon indicating that I take over her job of stirring the pot.

"It's true. You should've seen the look on your face when Lyle showed up on the doorstep with a passed out girl in her arms." Her voice was matter of fact and not laced with animosity as I would've expected, but I couldn't help but feel guilty.

Although somewhat involuntarily, I was crashing the lives of these two women. What did Lyle tell them, I wondered. What could she tell them? Lyle didn't know the true reason I'd gone to Monroe's office or what he said to me, or why a cloth bound journal was hidden behind a painting I claimed to have created.

It was then that I realized she knew me as little as I knew her. Then how did it seem she had a better understanding of me than I had of myself. How was that possible? I always believed that knowledge led to understanding, but perhaps in some cases it was the other way around. Understanding in what you do not know and furthermore trust in that unknown leads you to the knowledge.

"May, darling?" Ivy's sweet voice pulled me away from my thoughts as I stared blankly at the chunky soup.

"How do you know my name?" I turned to her suddenly in a state of defense and I felt my heart race as the residual effects of adrenaline I'd felt in the alley way rose.

"Lyle told us sweetie, when she brought you in." She placed a hand on my arm reminding me gently that she was not an enemy.

Ivy turned back to Beth to scold her again. "You shouldn't have brought it up, the girl's obviously been through hell." She shook a plaid towel at her then pivoting back to me. "Would you like some water or something else to drink?"

"I think I need to use the restroom please."

osoft Certific'UGJ