SUMMARY

A quiet morning reminiscing

on life events when out the

window under the stormy

sky you see him looking back

at you with the same dark

eyes you see in your dreams.

Can you get away? Short

story.

Cedeno, Monica
Contemporary Writers at Work
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nDq6TstdEi8 (play quietly in the background)

My fingers caressed the warm coffee mug as I blew on its content. I saw a reflection in the cup
as the ripples settled. It surprised me at first, as it stirred up haunting memories of the man
watching me in my dreams. My shoulders shuddered at the flashback of his stoic dark figure, a
distance from me, watching me attentively as a strange tune played in the background. I call
them dreams but they keep me uneasy. I can barely sleep at night, afraid of his appearance. I
never really understood why he frightened me so much. He never did anything, he never moved,
or spoke. I suppose it has more to do with the uneasiness of his stare, I can't see his face, but I
can feel his eyes on me, never wavering. What scared me the most, was my inability to move, to
turn away, to scream, or run, or to ask why. It was this same dream, that same man, that haunted
me every night and the reason why I sat in this café so early on a Saturday.

I looked down at the coffee attentively, staring back at my own tired brown eyes rippling as I
pulled the mug towards my lips and let the warm content slide down my throat. I sighed into cup
as I took in the bitterness of the liquid much like my mood and the gloomy weather outside.

Big angry droplets pelted against the window as the sky thundered in angry protest. I closed my
eyes listening to the muffled sounds of the rain mixing with the quiet music playing in the
background. A new tune played on the speakers, setting a more somber mood in the almost
empty cafe.

https://youtu.be/kN1WoneA1Kw

It began with the stringing of a guitar followed by the honey like voice of a woman singing about
something in a foreign language. Recognizing the soft penetrating tone, I stiffened feeling a cold
sweat drop down the back of my neck as I looked through the glass. The man that invaded my
dreams was suddenly standing there, across the street, pervading my reality. He wore the same
unchanging dark brown trench coat and matching hat from my nightmares. His face covered yet I
could still see his dark eyes looking my way.

My heart skipped several beats and I blinked a few times, wondering whether I had just imagined
it. Yet he still stood there, his clothes unaffected by the downpour as the sweet refrain sent waves
of nausea to my stomach, every second getting louder, filling my ears with its sorrowful melody.
I gulped down air, trying to calm myself, reasoning the situation before me. Maybe I was just
dreaming, I thought as I pinched my palm feeling the pressure on my hand and the tingle that
came from it. A shiver broke down my spine as I realized I was very much awake. Maybe it was
all just a hallucination? Had I been so sleep deprived that I was seeing him in my everyday life
now? It was certainly possible. I had heard of cases such as this.

With how hectic my life has been lately I wouldn't doubt it. It was because of this... this thing
that I lost my new job. I'd been so sleep deprived that it affected my work, I made so many
mistakes, too many for a new employee. My career, my dreams, all just shattered because of
him. Because I couldn't get those dark eyes out of my head, because I felt as though I was losing
my mind.

"Can I get you a refill?" I turned, startled by the woman holding a pot of freshly made coffee and
a sweet smile on her face.

"N-no, thank you" I muttered, looking back outside to the man standing on the other side,
unchanging.

"What horrible weather." The server sighed, trying to strike up a conversation with the only
customer in the café, me. I nodded, in agreement, not really paying attention to her.

"Do you see that man standing out there?" I asked pointing to the other side of the street. I
figured I might as well make sure I wasn't hallucinating, and it was just some crazy man standing
there with an outfit impermeable to the storm. The woman blinked, and bent forward, trying to
get a better look of the outside through the thick rain. She frowned trying and searching for this
mysterious man I spoke of with surety of his existence. I could see it in her eyes the answer that
made us both question my sanity.

"No honey, I don't see anything but this storm. Were you waiting for someone?" She raised an
eyebrow, while giving me a once over.

"No, I'm not. I must be seeing things then. Lack of sleep and all. Ha-ha." I spluttered in attempt
to not sound as crazy as I felt. "Thank you." I added, hoping she would go away.
"No, problem sugar. Let me know if you need anything." She smiled politely and walked off. I
turned to the window again as she paid attention to another customer walking in, finding shelter
from the downpour.

I couldn't think clearly anymore. Knowing that sitting there in wonder wouldn't do anything, I
put down a five-dollar bill and walked out the café and into the heavy rain. I looked at him and
he turned my way, yet he didn't move. He didn't go away, and he didn't give any sign of being a
figment of my imagination, so I did what I found most logical walked in the opposite direction.

I briskly made my way down the long street, my body fighting the heavy winds and thick drops
of rain smacking against me as I tried to get away. Looking behind me again, I didn't see any
sign of him. Just like he'd come suddenly and abruptly, shaking me to the core, he left,
unexpectedly and it alleviated me, for a short while.

I walked in to the first shop I found open, a small place filled with antiques, broken ones, and
fixed ones to look almost new. It was mesmerizing, walking through the corridors looking at the
ornate clocks as some of them ticked (https://youtu.be/QE4N-YDHcC8?t=1364), reminding me
of how slow time moved. At the back of the shop, sat on a teetering stool an old phonograph. It
piqued my curiosity, distracting me from the horror I went through for a moment. It was small
with scratches and ware on its sides, it had this rustic feel to it that drew me in. I stepped closer,
my hand outstretched, wanting to see if it would work. Wanting to know what the last tune

playing was.

"Are you interested in the turntable?" I jumped at the sound, turning to find a short old man
poking his head from an opening I hadn't noticed before. It was hidden behind old knickknacks
and other antiques that filled the space.

"Uh, I was just wondering if it worked." I said calming myself down, still jumpy from the recent
events.

"Ah yes. My old friend here. She's a trooper. Been through hell and back yet she still works like
a charm." He winked mischievously as he moved to the machine and began winding it with his
wrinkly hands. "She still makes the most beautiful sounds." He smiled softly as he let go of the
handle and let the record play. I breathed in as the somber tune began, sending a shiver that
broke down my spine as the familiar melody of a sweet stranger played.
(https://youtu.be/0feNVUwQA8U)

It was different, yet all too recognizable. The voice that streamed out of the speaker enraptured
me in her words. I shook my head thinking I was hearing things, I had to be. Yet there it was, the
same song that was in my dreams for weeks, the same one at the cafe. The song that seemed to
invoke that strange figure to appear from nowhere and disturb my life. I instinctively turned to
the shops window, he stood across the street again staring in my direction. My body felt hollow
as my heart thundered in me, a rush of adrenaline pumping through me again.

I ran out the shop unable to listen to the melody anymore. The old man called out to me as I ran,
but I didn't look back and I didn't look across the street, I just tried to get away. I fought against
the harsh winds again, cursing my fate, deciding there was no point reasoning the man away.
Going home was the safest bet that he wouldn't appear, it was a safe space, where there would be
no music and no strange man dressed in brown, except in my dreams. But he can't hurt me there,
so it was better than whatever this was.

A few blocks later and I finally made it back to my apartment, I stepped inside the old building,
breathing out slowly a breath that had caught in my throat. I looked out the window on the giant
entrance door to the building seeing no one in the rainstorm. Walking up three flights of stairs to
my apartment, I began to calm down and think rationally again. About the impossibility of it all.
That a hallucination could be this vivid. It just wasn't possible.

Reaching my door, I quickly unlocked it and stepped inside ready to strip off the very heavily
wet clothing and forget about the whole morning.

I reached my bedroom and stripped leaving the wet clothes in a pile on the floor. I hopped into
the hot shower and felt the strange and quite chilling morning slowly slip away from my body.
Every so often I had to remind myself that as long as there was no music, there was no man. That
as long as I didn't think about it or hear it, there was no chance of him ever coming back. Except
in my dreams and I hoped and prayed that they too would go away.

Shutting off the shower I stepped out and dried myself, a t-shirt, pants, and undergarments ready
for me on the bed, which I'd left there before leaving the house earlier.
I put them on ready to forget about everything I'd just been through. I sat on the couch and
covered myself with a soft blanket. Turning on the tv I searched through the channels landing on
the first thing that seemed interesting. A show on the creatures of the sea. I set the control down
and got comfortable watching the marine life move about and imagining myself as one of them.
A simple, care-free existence, only worrying about my next meal.

If only I really could become a fish, not having to worry about job hunting, not having to think
about my life falling apart in front of me. Not having to deal with so much loss and pain.

I looked around my apartment at the still unopened boxes, reminding me of how new I was to
my surroundings. Living in a small studio apartment in the city, with enough money to just cover
the next month. I thought I'd made the right choices, I thought that after his death getting a fresh
start would be the right thing to do.

Yet here I lay, on an old couch that still smelled like the thrift store I got it from. In a new city
where no one knew me, or him. Where every corner I turned to, every shop I entered wouldn't
remind me of what I'd lost, of who I loved. I made sure of that.

It's been a year since he disappeared, since he'd walked out on me. I never saw him again, I only
heard he was gone for good. Our last conversation hanging in an empty cafe early on a Saturday.

I don't know at what point I fell asleep or if I was even sleeping as I stared down a long narrow
corridor, my cheeks damp with shed tears. The walls and floor the same color, mixing together,
making it hard to tell what was-what. At first it was just me in the void, nothing on either side of
me. Then in the blink of an eye a brown door was staring back at me from the other side of the
corridor.

I walked towards it cautiously, and once there I grabbed on to its golden knob twisting it open. I
lingered on the entrance, looking in to a room much the same as the corridor. The floor, walls,
and ceiling all the same shade of chocolate. The only difference was the stand in the middle on
the room. On that stand sat a phonograph, similar to the one I had encountered in that shop
earlier. Already my nerves were on edge as it slowly wound itself up. I turned towards the
corridor, but it was gone, I had been pulled into the room that seemed to merge within itself, the
recorder and I, its only interruptions.
Then again it began. The slow and beautiful, yet sickening melody of the song
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0feNVUwQA8U&feature=youtu.be). Followed by the
sweet, melancholic voice of the woman singing. About what? I was never really sure. All I knew
is that the first time I heard the melody, it elicited a deep longing in me. Now it only leaves fear
and pain. When the sweet words of the woman whispered into the silence of the room my body
stiffened and I lost all movement. A door appeared and from it the man in brown entered. He
camouflaged with the rest of the room, leaving only his masked face and his deep, dark eyes to
be seen. He stood on the other side, not uttering a single word. I stared back, my nerves on edge
and my adrenaline pumping.

"What do you want from me?" I screamed, surprising myself in the process. Every time I dreamt
of him, I tried with all my might to speak, to question, to demand an explanation, a reason for all
this. Not once did my voice get through, not until now. Yet it was to no avail, he didn't answer
back, he didn't move. He didn't seem the least bit surprised at my new found ability. Nothing
fazed him, nothing bothered him which made me all the more. "Please! Just tell me what you
want!" I pleaded again, wanting to move, to wrap my arms around myself in comfort as I broke
down from the exhaustion of what felt like years of this... this thing invading my private
sanctuary. My dreams, the most private crevices of my mind, infiltrating them without care and
leaving me an uneasy mess. For what? What purpose did any of it serve? Why me?

That question rang in my mind as I tried closing my eyes, tried thrashing my body around, tried
anything that would wake me up from this nightmare. To get me away from him and his gaze.
Although I couldn't see his eyes, they still felt as though they were right on me at all times.

I screamed in frustration; I swore at him as hot tears fell down my cheeks in anger. "Please!" I
begged, "Just let me be!" I cried out as the singer reached a high note.

"c'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, Il me l'a dit, l'a jure pour la vie" She sang her sweet
voice carrying away mine.

"Oui."

I woke up panting and in a daze. My heart a mile a minute as sharks on the screen splashed back
into the water as the narrator spoke of their carnivorous tendencies. I turned off the tv and
recounted the dream in my head again. It was the same as always but different. This time I was
able to speak, this time he spoke back. One word in French "Yes." I repeated the translation to
myself and got up from the couch to my desk where my laptop lay on top. I opened it and
googled the words to the song I remembered "c'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, Il me
l'a dit, l'a jure pour la vie" I told myself as I attempted to write them down. The translation
coming to 'it's him for me, me for him in life, he told me so, swears it for life'

I shook my head unable to comprehend the words even though they were in English. I looked for
the song, trying to find meaning to all of this. I clicked a link and the song started playing,
(https://youtu.be/kN1WoneA1Kw) the same melody, the same singer. I braced myself for
whatever was to come but the song only played, and time passed, and she reached the same lines
from before, yet nothing happened. The instrument solo played, and I began easing myself down,
almost believing that all of it was a coincidence and it was all in my head.

Then the woman began singing again in English, a part I'd never heard before. Her words were
endearing, love filled, happy. Her heart pouring open for a man she falls in love with again
through her song. In me it elicited a great pain. A sadness that transpired the sickness from
before. It was as if I'd heard the song long ago, as if the song meant something to me. Yet I only
ever remember it playing in my dreams.

But I knew that it wasn't just in my dreams, and in that moment I remembered. The song, I'd
heard it long ago, with him. The man that I'd been trying to get away from, the memory I was
trying to forget, he is the reason the song played.

I stood up from my chair. For once I didn't feel the panic that came from listening and
remembering that man. For once I was in control.

I made my way to the door, knowing what was waiting on the other side. I didn't run, or try to
hide, I didn't let my feelings get the best of me. I knew what was happening and why. I could
finally say that after so long I was relieved. Finally, the answers to all my questions was there.
Pulling the door open I saw the man standing on the other side smiling.

I smiled back. "Heureux, heureux à en mourir."