Isn’t it funny how you can trace back bits of dreams to the events of the day before? That night, I had a long, convoluted dream that included a parakeet squawking, “No peach, no peach,” over and over while Nadine’s landlady dangled a key in front of my eyes and intoned, “One key is the key to everything.”
The key connection to the previous day was easy to figure out, but it took me a few minutes to put together the part about the bird and the fact that I’d been disappointed to find we were out of peach yogourt.
By the time I’d showered and was fully awake, the other details of the dream had faded completely away. I towel-dried my hair, brushed it out, slipped on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and grabbed a bowl of cereal.
“Are you working today?” Mom asked, coming into the kitchen.
“Tonight. Four until closing,” I said.
“How are you finding the job?”
“It’s okay. The work isn’t bad, and I like the shifts I do with Ben. But Lisa is kind of grouchy most of the time, and Carlotta is practically psycho.”
“They’re all related, right?”
“Yeah, though you’d never know that Ben was one of them. He’s the only nice one of the family.”
“He’s the one you work with most of the time, isn’t he?”
“Yes, thank goodness. I don’t think I could stand it if I worked mainly with Carlotta. It’s bad enough that she’s weird, but she’s nasty too.”
“That makes things very unpleasant,” Mom frowned. “Isn’t there someone you could talk to about it?”
“Not really. Lisa runs the place, though it’s a family business. And she and Carlotta are cousins, I guess. I know they’re both cousins to Ben, so I guess that’s what they are to each other too.”
“They could both be cousins to Ben, but be sisters to each other,” Mom pointed out.
“Possible,” I said. “The relationship has never been clear to me, and I don’t like to ask questions for fear someone ends up accusing me of being nosey. But they don’t look that much alike, and they don’t seem very close.”
“Well, I guess all you can do is try to make the best of things,” Mom said. “I don’t like to think of you being treated unkindly there, but I know there are sometimes limits to what a person can do about a situation like that. If it got so that you dreaded the thought of going to work because of it, you’d just have to quit.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” I said hastily. “Anyway, it’s worth it on payday. It’s so cool having a cheque at the end of every week.”
“Yes, and you’ll be able to put some money away toward university too,” Mom said.
I tried to summon an enthusiastic expression for this idea. I guess I’ll have to start saving up for when I go away to school eventually — but I just started working and I’d much rather enjoy being able to spend my money for the first few months.
“Oh, Shelby, what’s your schedule this weekend? I was thinking of inviting Malcolm and Greg over for dinner one evening if you and Greg are both free.”
Malcolm is Greg’s father, Dr. Taylor. He’s pretty cool, and I usually look forward to seeing him. But with things kind of awkward between me and Greg at the moment, I wasn’t all that keen on the idea of doing some big family get-together thing.
“Why don’t you and Dad just have Dr. Taylor over this time,” I said. “That way if Greg and I want to see a movie or something we won’t be stuck here.”
“Nice way to put it,” Mom said.
“No, I didn’t … you know what I mean.”
“Shelby, check to see if we’re getting low on eggs, dear.” Mom changed the subject, opening a notebook and picking up a pen at the same time.
“Yeah, there are only four left. Are you doing the grocery shopping this morning?” I asked as I shut the egg carton.
“Not a full shopping; I’m just picking up a few things. Why, was there something you wanted?”
“More yogourt. We only have blueberry and vanilla left.”
She jotted that down along with the other things on her list.
“I’m heading over to Betts’s place pretty soon,” I said. “I’ll call if we’re going anywhere. Otherwise, we’re just going to hang out at her house for the day. I’ll be home before work, though.”
“Well, have a nice time.” Mom stuck the list into her purse, which she slung over her shoulder.
“Oh, yeah, do you think you can give me a lift to work tonight?” I asked, remembering the weather announcement I’d heard on the radio a bit earlier. “It’s supposed to rain.”
“I’m sure that either your father or I can manage that.”
I rinsed out my bowl and put it in the sink, then swept the floor, which I had forgotten to do the night before. The phone rang.
“Shelby, I have to cancel on you today,” Betts said, her voice quavering. “I’m sorry.”
“What’s up, Betts?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Is it Derek?” I asked, ignoring what she’d just said.
“No, it isn’t Derek. It’s way worse than that.” She began to cry and just barely choked out, “I gotta go,” before hanging up.
“Betts, wait …” The dial tone told me it was useless. I briefly considered phoning her back, but that seemed pointless. She’d talk about it when she was ready.
That was the alarming thing, though. Betts is always ready to talk — about amost anything. I spent a good half-hour wandering through the house wondering what could have upset her so much that she couldn’t even discuss it.
Finally, realizing the futility of trying to figure something like that out without the benefit of any information, I slipped into my sandals and headed out for a walk.
Snatches of my dream came back to me as I made my way in the general direction of Broderick’s Gas Bar. I hadn’t planned specifically to go see Greg — in fact, I wasn’t even sure if he was working this early, though he’d mentioned being scheduled during the day today — but it seems my feet were heading there so I guess that’s what I was doing.
If I’d reached Broderick’s, Greg and I would probably have had a long talk and worked out the day before’s problem. That might have pushed the other thoughts that were apparently trying to surface completely out of my head.
Thank goodness I didn’t get there in time for that to happen!