“What dreams may come…
Must give us pause.” —HAMLET, ACT 3, SCENE 1
To go or not to go to Melbourne? That is my question.
I’m lying in my narrow bed, trying to imagine my future. I can feel myself getting sleepy—my arms and legs are heavy, my breaths are longer, and I’m not so anxious anymore. When I close my eyes, I don’t see any too-tall trees. Instead, I see Mick and me.
It’s as if I’m watching a play inside my head, with the two of us co-starring. I feel my lips curling into a smile. Mick and I look so good together.
I’m going with him to Melbourne. We’ll have two stopovers—one in Vancouver and another in Honolulu. I love the sound of the word Honolulu. Just saying it makes me happy.
I ask Mick whether we can extend the Honolulu stopover so that we can have a beach weekend, but he says no way. Too expensive, and we need to watch our money. He says he doesn’t understand how I can be thinking about holiday weekends when we have so much to get organized.
Mick and I have two suitcases each. Plus we’ve sent some things—like books and winter clothes—by cargo. I’ve brought a whole bunch of picture books for Nial. All the ones I used to love when I was little. Good Night Moon and One Fish, Two Fish. One of the things I like imagining is how I’ll read to him before he goes to bed, the way Mom used to do with me. Mick thinks Nial will spend a couple of nights every week with us and alternate weekends too. Mick and Nial and I will be our own little family. In a few years, once I’ve finished theater school and got my career established, Mick and I might even have a baby of our own.
We’re sitting at the airport gate when there’s an announcement that the flight to Vancouver is going to be delayed. The airplane hasn’t yet arrived in Montreal. Mick scowls when he checks the time on his cell phone. “It’s not going to be easy to make the first connecting flight,” he says, his voice tight.
“I guess there’s nothing we can do about it.” I reach for his hand, but he doesn’t give it to me. Instead, he gives me an irritated look, as if I’m the one responsible for delaying the flight. I haven’t said so, but I think Mick is nervous about going back to Melbourne and having to juggle even more things than he’s had to juggle here in Montreal—work, Nial, Nial’s mom and the lawyer, and now, of course, he’ll also have to look after me, make sure I’m adjusting to life far away from home.
“You know what I’ve noticed about this airline?” a woman sitting across from us says to no one in particular. “They tell you it’s going to be a one-hour delay, and then an hour later, they tell you there’s been another delay. You know what I wish?” The woman doesn’t wait for anyone to ask her what it is she wishes. “I wish these big corporations would just give it to us straight in the first place.”
“I’m with you,” Mick tells the woman.
I fight the urge to say, You’re with me, not her. What good would saying it do? Besides, it would sound like I’m jealous, which I’m not.
The woman turns out to be right. Exactly one hour later, there’s another announcement: the flight from Vancouver won’t be arriving for at least another hour. There’s been engine trouble.
“Goddammit,” Mick mutters under his breath.
I stroke the top of his hand. The blue veins look like rivers on a topographical map. “There’s nothing we can do,” I whisper.
Mick pulls his hand away. “For God’s sake, will you stop saying that?” He is raising his voice now. It’s one thing for him to shout at me in the loft, but this is the first time he’s shouted at me when other people are around. I can feel the woman across from us watching.
“Please don’t shout.” I’m trying not to cry.
Mick’s eyes have that angry, unhinged flash they get just before he loses it. He takes my hand, and for a second I’m confused. Why does Mick want to hold hands now? I feel that old familiar hope building inside me. Maybe this time Mick will be different. Maybe this time he’ll catch himself and be calm and kind, not angry. Maybe. Please.
But I’m wrong. Mick doesn’t want to hold my hand. Instead, he uses his fingers like a vice, pressing down hard— too hard—on both sides of my hand. I swear I hear the bones crack. He’s pressing down too hard for me to pull away.
“Stop it,” I whisper—I really don’t want anyone to hear— but he won’t.
It’s only when my eyes fill with tears that Mick finally lets go. I blink back the tears.
The woman is still watching. Judging Mick and me. Disapproving. I pass her when I get up from my seat to go to the bathroom. “Your boyfriend sure seems to be a nasty piece of work,” she whispers. “What are you doing with him?”
In the bathroom, I splash my face with cold water. I can still feel Mick’s fingers crushing my hand.
He’s stressed out about making our connection in Vancouver. He’s stressed out about the long trip ahead. He’s stressed out about seeing Nial and dealing with Millicent and the lawyer. He’ll be better in Melbourne. I shouldn’t have told him there was nothing we could do about the delay. I should’ve known better. I should’ve been watching for land mines.
I take the long way back to my seat so I don’t have to pass the woman who made the mean comment about Mick. What does she know? She’s probably jealous because she’s traveling alone. I’ll bet she wishes she had a hot boyfriend. She’s bitter. I can hear it in her voice, see it in her face.
Mick smiles at me when I sit down. There’s no more angry flash in his eyes. “Good news,” he says. “I spoke to an attendant. The plane to Vancouver’ll be here in twenty minutes. They’re going to hold the next plane—the one to Honolulu. So we’re going to be fine, Joey.”
“That’s good. That’s great.” I let him kiss me.
More than anything in the world, I need for us to be fine. In Melbourne, Mick will be all I’ve got.
He reaches into his jeans pocket. I’m sure he’s going to offer me a piece of gum or candy. Instead, he fishes out a gold pocket watch. It’s one of those really old-fashioned ones with a thin gold chain. Mick’s long fingers work quickly as he winds the watch by hand. “I’m going to set it on Melbourne time,” he says. “Pretty, isn’t it? I picked it up for Nial.” Mick turns the watch around and shows me the N engraved in cursive on the back of the watch.
Oh my god. I’ve seen that watch before. It was Nelson Karpman’s.
“That watch!”
My own voice wakes me up.
Where am I? What’s going on? We have a plane to catch…but no, I’m in my own bedroom.
“Iris? Is everything okay up there?” Mom calls from the kitchen.
I sit up in my bed. “I’m fine,” I call back. “It was just a dream.”
Just a dream. But so real that I need to shake out my fingers—the ones I imagined Mick crushing. What an awful dream!
Thank goodness that was all it was. An awful, silly dream. Mick would never hurt me in front of other people. And he’d never steal Nelson Karpman’s watch.