Leaving Las Vegas

As I come off the freeway I notice a sign mentioning something about casinos and downtown Las Vegas, but I blow right by the sign turning it into a blur of markings. I wouldn't need directions anyway, I'm a guy.

And I find myself moving along the streets. Though the streets seem strangely deserted. I'm flying at a rapid pace above the sidewalk. Half-expecting to hit my head on some random objects (e.g., traffic lights, awnings, etc.), but most of the obstacles are on the other side of the street.

Going down the main drag for a while and finally turning the corner, I see a park and a dimly lit building with lots of flags. Must be some State of Nevada building or something. I'm definitely in downtown, strange there aren't many people out. But people or no people, I'm a little scared for my life being in an unfamiliar urban area at night. The dark and the silence blend with a cool desert night wind. Perhaps the Strip is not downtown. I should have looked at the directions.

I start retracing my steps, ending up back at the intersection that pointed toward the casinos. My arm is getting tired from carrying the jug of water I brought from San Diego, just to make sure I wouldn't end up dying in the desert from dehydration. I follow the road to a river with a long bridge. There is a gas station right next to the river, old-fashioned. Got a refrigerator sitting outside. I take one last long swig of now lukewarm water and stick the jug in the fridge. You never know when a homeless person might pass by and take the water that the attendant would surely throw out anyway.

As I near the river, my phone rings.

Withheld

But I know it's Grams. She always calls at these random moments.

"Hello."

"Hello! I just thought I'd call to see how you were doing."

"I'm in Las Vegas now. Do you remember I said I was going to Las Vegas?"

"Oh. I hope you are careful. There are scary people there."

"Grams..." I say sharply. She is always trying to convince me that everything I do is dangerous and it is probably best to just stay home all the time like she does.

"Well, how's the weather down there? Hot?"

"No. It's pretty cold. It's been cold in San Diego too, though. I better let you go. I'm trying to get across this bridge and it will take a lot of concentration for me to fly without falling into the water."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too." About to hang up.

"Miss you a lot."

"I miss you too. Hope to see you later this month. Okay? Bye."

And across the water I see a glowing neon cowboy. It seems to have fallen over though. It isn't standing tall. Barely standing at all. At least I'm going the right direction. Start across but in just a few moments I need to put my feet down on the strip of concrete cutting across the river. I decide not to take the direct route across the water. I'll hover above the bridge instead, just in case I can't keep elevated.

On the other side, a fever overtakes me. It is as though I'd been drugged. There are lights and dinging bells. They dance around me like a rave, or a wave crashing down. I know I played some sort of video game. Was it video poker? Well, whatever it was I lost. And with the world spinning around me I decide to check into my room. Maybe tomorrow.

Brian is already in the room. He wants to start out early tomorrow. I've never known my brother to want to sleep early so he can wake up early. Doesn't seem like him, I figured he'd be up all night. I figured I would barely see him at all. But I'm too exhausted to care. In minutes, I'm asleep.

I wake up to the phone ringing. "Hello."

"Hi," she said. Her voice is so familiar and yet, since it has been a while, it takes a second to register who it is.

"How are you doing?" she asks.

"Fine. I'm here in Las Vegas with Bri. How are you?"

"I'm feeling normal. Like everything has been lifted away."

"You sound good. I haven't heard you sound like that for a long time."

"I'm going to get my own apartment," she says. Meanwhile Brian is walking in and out of the bathroom trying to get ready. He is putting together a suit ensemble and I am trying not to tell him he is looking more and more like a pimp.

"Tired of living there at the house?"

"I'd like to come visit you some time."

"Yes! Yes, you should. I'd love that. I miss you so much. So much. And I love you."

The line seems to be cut off. I listen to the silence for a while. Then I check the signal strength, but I've got four green bars. "Are you there?"

"I'm here," she says. Then why didn't you say you love me too, I think to myself. But I don't say anything, I don't want to force her to say something she doesn't mean.

"So what did your doctors say about you feeling better? Is the cancer all gone or what?"

And now the silence feels endless. I check the phone and the screen is empty. No one is on the line. I speed dial 2. Grams answers the phone with a cheerful, "Hello!" It is the kind of cheerfulness that makes you feel like this one little conversation makes her day. Like it brings her so much joy to hear your voice, and you begin to feel guilty because you don't call as often as you should.

"Hi, Grams." But I feel guilty anyway. It seems every time I call I'm talking to Grams. I don't want to play favorites. I don't know why I always talk to Grams, not to her. I don't know why I invited Grams to come visit me already, but I haven't invited her. So I interrupt the question about weather that is inevitably coming to ask, "Can I talk to Mom?"

"What's that?" She says it half like she didn't hear what I said, half like she thinks she didn't hear what I said. "Mom. I was talking to her and then the line got cut off. Is she home?"

By this time Brian had turned his head toward me. He was right in the middle of his fifth attempt at tying his tie. And Grams. Grams says, "Honey, your Mom's not here." She said something else, but those first words and the stare from my brother triggered a flash flood of images. I swam in death. I saw my mother sickly in her rocking chair. I saw images of her funeral and the tree where we scattered her ashes. I saw her dead. I saw her dead. Before they carried her out. After she had taken her last breath. I saw her.

I close my phone. As soon as I did I knew Grams would be worried. I should have said something to her. But it was too late. I turn to my brother. "Mom called me. I swear I talked to Mom. You heard me on the phone, right? Right?!"

"Yeah."

"You are real, right? You're really here, right?" I walk up to him and start to poke him, scared my arm might pass right through him.

"Yeah. I'm here."

"It was Mom. She said she was feeling better and that she was going to move out into her own apartment." My brother asks for my phone. He looks at it for a while. In hysterics, I start to cry. Soon he does too. He walks over to me.

In the call log, right under my call to Grams, is a blurred three letter name. Mom.

"I didn't program that into my phone, Bri. I never put her name in my phone! What the hell is going on?!"

And the phone rings. "Mom" flashes on the screen, blurry, but it can't be anything else. "You answer it. You answer it."

He takes the phone and opens it. Waits. "Hello?" he says.

"Put it on speaker phone, Bri. Put it on speaker phone. See who it is!" I plead.

The tears are rolling down his face as he sinks to his knees at the edge of the bed. He pushes the button to put her on speaker and lays the phone on the bed. My mom's voice fills the room.

"...It hasn't been long," she says. "Mom!" I say. "Mom, we miss you so much."

I can't stop talking. "Did you know that Brian is married? I'm not yet. But I lived in Hawaii and now I'm in San Diego. And Brian has four kids now! Can you believe it?"

"What is heaven like?" my brother says.

Pause. Everyone pauses. Then, "Heaven is beautiful."

Sinking in. The reality sinking in that she is not here.

"I love you, my sons. And I'm proud of you."

And she was gone again.

~Dream, May 31, 2009.