Fates: Chapter Twenty-Six

Margaret

I couldn’t sleep again. The dreams had become more vivid lately and it felt like I was slowly becoming more and more obsessed with the merman who visited me when I was sleeping. Not a minute passed even in my waking hours that he wouldn’t enter my mind.

His dark brown hair, sharp green eyes and shiny silver tail held the most impact in my mind as I saw him in front of me, floating carelessly in the water. He had the body of a warrior—as if he had fought against monsters and enemies far bigger than him and yet emerged victorious. He held a sword in his right hand; a weapon that seemed almost fragile with its thin blade that curved slightly near the tip. It didn’t seem right in contrast to his large build but I instinctively knew that it had sliced through a number of things—bodies of his enemies included.

I should have been scared in his presence but in all of my dreams, he had an affectionate smile on his face. A smile that never failed to make me feel as if he was a prince and I was his princess. It was a childish feeling but I couldn’t shake it off. In a way I felt that if I could see my face as I look at him in my dreams, I knew that I was smiling just as tenderly at him. Seeing him in my dreams may have disturbed me during my waking hours but I also felt myself being drawn to him and the mystery surrounding him—as if finding him would answer all of my questions.

It all started three weeks ago, the night before Grampa’s death. I came home feeling totally lost and disoriented, knowing that there was a reason why I woke up by the beach that afternoon but failing to remember what it was. There had been other things that I knew I couldn’t remember; lapses in my memory that I was sure I should not have forgotten. It had been bothering me since then because both my mind and heart tell me intuitively that those blanks were important memories. It was frustrating, however, because no matter who I asked, nobody could give me a satisfying answer. Everyone told me that I was overanalyzing things; that nobody really recalled every single detail of past memories, no matter how recent the memory was.

Because of what I couldn’t remember and because of what Grampa told me before he died, I couldn’t help but start believing that the merman in my dreams had something to do with my lost memories. Unfortunately, I knew that mermen and mermaids weren’t real and believing in them was only making me think that I had turned into some cursed madwoman. But then again, curses couldn’t be real either.

I sat up in my bed and shook my head. I really should stop thinking about the merman. I should do as Robert said and accept the fact that I wouldn’t remember what my lost memories were. I took a deep breath and looked at the digital clock on my bedside table.

2:13 in the morning.

In the past weeks, I could only end up falling asleep some time around three o’clock in the morning.

Forty-seven minutes left.

I sighed. I guess I should just be grateful that it was Sunday. When I had to go to school, I always thanked the heavens that a mug of coffee added to my breakfast had sufficed to keep me awake for the rest of the day. At least today I could sleep in and wake up really late.

If only I could have a merman-less dream tonight then it would be enough to convince me that I was still sane. Just for tonight.

Please.

*****

My wish was granted. I woke up around eleven o’clock Sunday morning knowing full well that I had a dreamless sleep. I didn’t dream of a merman. To be honest, I couldn’t remember a single dream at all.

Perhaps my subconscious had finally decided to give me some peace. A smile slowly broke out of my lips as realization hit me. As I tried to recall anything from my sleep and came up with nothing, my smile turned into a wide grin and I sat up feeling a lot better than I had in weeks. I tried again and there was nothing. All I could remember were the dreams I had yesterday and the previous weeks. I couldn’t believe it. Maybe I really was overreacting to the memories I had forgotten. Maybe if I tried to simply accept the fact that there really wasn’t anything wrong with not remembering, then the dreams would slowly fade away and my life would be back to normal.

I got off my bed, my grin still in place, feeling like today was going to be wonderful in a totally different way.  I took a refreshing bath then dressed in jeans and a white blouse with thin black stripes. After tying my hair into a neat bun, I took a pair of black sandals then went to the kitchen to eat my brunch.

It was time to visit Grampa again.

I would have to bring some flowers to my parents’ graves first, and then go straight to Grampa’s just fifteen meters away. Before Grampa died, I visited my parents every two months. But then, I had Grampa at that time. Now that every single person I loved was gone, I felt like wanting to live in the cemetery just to be close to my family. I finished the toast, bacon, eggs and orange juice faster than I usually did. Excitement bubbled inside me as I half-walked, half-jumped on my way downstairs, ready to go out, buy flowers and tell Grampa about today’s miracle.

Amanda must have heard me humming because she greeted me with a smile the moment I opened the bookstore’s back door.

“Someone must have had a really sweet dream last night,” she teased.

“On the contrary,” I replied as I helped her put the books bought by our latest customer into a paper bag. “I can’t remember a single dream at all and that’s the reason why I feel so happy today.”

“Whatever it is, Marge, I sure am glad to see you smiling today. I’ve missed that,” Amanda told me, her eyes glistening.

She was almost like an older sister to me and her concern was so heartwarming that I couldn’t resist wrapping her in a bear hug. “Aww, thank you, Amanda! You’re the sweetest,” I said, surprising both Amanda and the customer. Their reactions were almost too stunned that all of us emerged laughing in a matter of seconds.

Really, the day was starting well.

The customer took her new books and started to leave the store as soon as our laughter had died down. We were still waving at her when I told Amanda where I was planning to go. She nodded with approval as she knew I now visit the cemetery every Sunday.

I was about to open the door on my way out when Amanda added, “Tell Grampa I said hi.”

“I will!” I promised, and then the bells were ringing and I was out of the bookstore.

The flower shop only had a few customers at this time of day and Mrs. Blanchard greeted me with a soft smile. She was in her late thirties with brown hair and medium build. What made her stand out was that despite her rather plump figure, she had dimples that could make anyone melt.

“Two bouquets of white roses and one of white stargazers, I presume?” she asked me before I could even give her my flower preferences.

I smiled in response. “It’s easy to remember when I visit every week, isn’t it?”

“Of course, add that to your stunning red hair and I’d always remember what you wanted to bring to your loved ones in the cemetery,” she replied pleasantly.

She began to make her way towards the bunch of white flowers to begin picking the stems that she would include in my bouquets. She picked three lilies and six roses then went to the cluster of baby’s breath which will serve as accents to the main flowers of the bouquet. I watched her the entire time as we made small talk about the weather.

As she placed the flowers on her arrangement table behind the counter, she suddenly lifted her head and faced me, as if she just remembered something quite interesting.

“You know, I just remembered that I arranged these same set of bouquets about an hour ago. He said he was visiting some people’s graves.” She placed her fingers under her chin and stared right into my eyes. “It’s odd ‘cause I don’t usually arrange this many sympathy bouquets in one morning—especially when I don’t remember anyone dying on this particular day.”

I nodded in agreement. “It’s also weird that we chose the same set of flowers.”

“Exactly, my dear. Do you know anyone who might visit your parents and grandfather today?” she asked before she got back to her task at hand.

I paused for a few seconds to recall if anyone would indeed visit. “Nope. None. The people who knew my parents and Grampa had stopped coming since last week.”

She nodded. “Perhaps he’s visiting someone else.”

“I guess.”

We went on to talk about flowers, her family and my life until the last bouquet had been finished. She didn’t use cellophane or paper to bind the flowers together but decided to wrap the stems in wide, blue satin ribbons. It looked very elegant in my opinion.

“I hope you don’t mind that I did a different arrangement this time,” Mrs. Blanchard said, giving the bouquets over to me.

“Oh, no. I don’t. They’re beautiful, really. Thanks,” I assured her.

“Well, then. I hope your family likes it too.”

“I’m sure they would.”

I paid for the flowers and then thanked the flower lady again before leaving the shop. It seemed that everything was going differently today and I felt more lighthearted as I took the bus to the cemetery. I even smiled at the driver as I got off at the bus stop.

The moment I crossed the arc that welcomed the visitors to St. James Cemetery, I knew that something strange was going to happen. The clouds began to cover the sun, the wind began to blow and a shiver ran up my back to my neck. It felt like something that had happened to me before. I glanced around but found nothing wrong with my surroundings so I just shrugged and continued towards my parents’ graves.

I saw the flowers even from a few meters away.

My feet started moving faster, recognizing the same arrangements as the ones I held in my hands. Heart beating furiously against my chest, I stopped in front of my parents’ tombstones and stared at the neatly placed bouquets of white roses in front of me.

There was a chance that my instincts were wrong but my frantic heartbeat was telling me that they were from the guy who bought the bouquets from Mrs. Blanchard.

“Who could he be?” I whispered in wonder.

And then I realized that there was another set of bouquet that I had not seen yet. I immediately turned towards the direction of Grampa’s grave but it was behind a huge acacia tree and if there was anyone there, I couldn’t see him from where I was standing. Without thinking any further, I placed the roses I held beside the bouquets that were already there then began walking nervously to where Grampa’s burial place was. My reaction was weird in my opinion but seeing those bouquets had made me feel that I needed to see the person who brought them.

When I was only about two meters away, I tried to keep my steps as quiet as possible for reasons that I couldn’t quite understand. I reached the acacia tree then paused to take a breath.

There’s no reason to be nervous, Marge, I thought to myself.

I took that precious step and found him standing not far from me, in front of the tombstone. He was wearing a black polo shirt and jeans. His back felt familiar to me but no matter how much I dug into my memory, I couldn’t recall anyone I knew who was as tall as he was.

Perhaps he’s someone whose memory I’ve lost.

That thought made me even more anxious but my curiosity got piqued and somehow, I needed to know who he was. I took a slow step, and then another until I was standing right beside him. I had seen him stiffen even before he could see me in his peripheral view; I took no effort to walk quietly and he must have heard the dried leaves crunching under my feet as I stepped on them.

The mysterious guy was wearing sunglasses and all I could make out from his face was a strong jaw and high cheekbones. His hair was dark brown and yet again, I wondered if I had seen him before.

“Hi,” I began as casually as I could, considering how anxious I was. “Are you a friend of Grampa’s?”

He didn’t answer right away but he turned towards me and I felt like his eyes were scrutinizing me from behind his sunglasses. I swallowed and tried my best not to let him know in any way that his silence was unnerving.

“Yes,” he finally answered. His voice was deep and husky but despite the short response, he sounded almost like he sang it. “I knew him quite some time ago.”

“I see.” I nodded and looked towards Grampa’s tombstone. It was difficult to keep looking at him without actually seeing his eyes. And the only way I could hide mine from his gaze was to look away. I leaned down to place the identical bouquet in front of us. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Margaret. His adopted granddaughter.”

I had to face him again to shake his hand. He seemed reluctant to let go after the handshake but since I couldn’t see his eyes, I couldn’t be very sure.

“I know,” the mysterious guy replied.

I hadn’t expected his answer so instead of my plan not to continue looking at him, I ended up staring at his sunglasses. “You do? But I don’t think I remember you.”

He just smiled at me in response and I fought the urge to shake him and force him to tell me how he knew about me. I knew that doing that to a stranger was rude and I settled for a smile back at him.

We were silent for a moment and then he sighed. “I’m sorry but I have to go now, Margaret.” The way he said my name was so gentle yet its impact made me momentarily breathless that I barely heard him saying, “It’s nice seeing you again.”

I knew it was only proper to nod or say goodbye but I had no idea if I did any of that before he turned his back to walk way from me. His voice kept ringing in my head until his back disappeared from my view.