Frank Klus - Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

“So even if I could have my old life back, I’d lose it anyway?”

“Yes, dear. Hell House is the totalitarian answer to keeping people in line, but the system has failed all of us. All it can do is rub our nose in the stink and make us believe it’s the nectar of the azaleas.”

Eugene let out a laugh through his sorrowful countenance.

“There is a future, dear. It’s where we’re going. In time your family will join you. When the realization that there is nothing left to hold onto hits home, they’ll come. Your father hinted at that when you last talked to him. Just be strong. As bad as everything seems now, it-will-get-better. You must believe me. You must go on. We will endure. We will survive. WE-WILL-GO-ON.”

Sandy began to stir. She started kicking her feet and talking in her sleep. “No, no! Let me go!”

Casimir stirred and woke up to the kicking. Sandy quieted for a time and Casimir rolled over. Then, after a few minutes, the kicking started again.

“FERNANDO!” She sat up in the bed with her mouth agape.

Casimir jumped up and reached over to his wife. “Dear, are you all right?”

Sandy was panting. She reached out to her husband and hugged him.

“There, there now. It was just a bad dream,” he said. Sandy was crying. Her breathing was brisk and shallow, and her heart was racing, gradually calming.

“It was so real. I was in some kind of hospital and I think this doctor was giving me electro-shock therapy. The pain seemed so real. I never had a dream like this before.”

Jaydan frowned.

Dennis’s phone rang. “Hello.”

“It’s Colderon.”

“Do you have them?”

“Well, we tracked them to a motel off the interstate and confirmed that Pamela and Eugene were there. Then we lost them. We did confirm they’re heading to New America, but we were too far behind them. We doubled back to some country road. It was about the only thing around in this good for nothing place. We cruised up and down and couldn’t find them. I think they gave us false plates.”

“So you’re telling me the trail went cold.”

“We’ll find them, and you better pay what you promised when we do.”

Dennis marched into Casimir’s office with the bad news.

“They’re smart. Tell Colderon to use every man he can get, and set up lookouts at all the motels west of their last known location. Forget about looking at the vehicles, look for our targets.”

The next night there was even less peace in the Casimir household. Jaydan awoke to his wife’s kicking again. Sandy was talking in her sleep. She was muttering, “no, no, no, no….” Then she started calling Fernando’s name when she woke up. This time she remembered the name she kept calling out.

“It’s just another bad dream,” he said, as he comforted his wife.

“Who is Fernando?”

“It must be someone who hurt you; maybe some old boyfriend who hit you. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I am worried, honey. I started having these flashbacks, or something like it, about a week ago. I know I should have mentioned it to you, but I didn’t think much of it.”

“What sort of flashbacks?”

“I don’t know. They were just some bits and pieces; dreamlike.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ll get you some sedatives that will help you sleep better.”

Sandy took the sedatives that her husband gave her, but the dreams of another life would still come.

“Sandy, I’m so sorry.”

Sandy opened up the gift. It was a bracelet. “Oh, honey, it’s beautiful. What are you so sorry about?”

“It’s our first anniversary and I wanted it to be special.”

Sandy looked at the bracelet again and realized the base was a cheap material, probably tin, made to look like silver, and the stones were costume jewelry.

Sandy was startled awake and realized it was the alarm clock waking up her husband.

“How’d you sleep tonight? Any bad dreams?”

“No, no bad dreams. I slept well.”

She got up and put a house coat on, and then went downstairs to make breakfast.

Sandy managed to hide the dreams from her husband; not to mention the flashbacks that were starting to become more frequent. After Jaydan left for the office, Sandy would sit in the living room with no television or radio. She would close the terra cotta drapes. It was quiet. She’d make a cup of tea for herself, sit in a chair, empty her mind, and wait for the next flashback. It usually didn’t take long.

Jail? I was in jail? I will be in jail? Oh, this is so confusing. What does it mean?

Sandy wished she could talk it over with a dear friend, but she didn’t have any. It seemed strange that she had no close friends, and yet the dreams and flashbacks seemed to indicate she had many of them.

Every day was the same. Jaydan would wake up and Sandy would fix breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. He would go to work while Sandy would clean a little, watch television, read a magazine, and wait until he came home. They made love occasionally; ten minutes, and then he’d roll over and go to sleep. It was like this five days a week. Weekends were worse. He’d go out, rarely taking Sandy, and yet Sandy never felt like protesting.

Did she love him? She felt like she did, but she didn’t know why. He was much older than her. She never felt used or mistreated, but there was no excitement either. Bev was the closest thing she had to a friend, but she was the wife of Captain Miller, and anything she told Bev would make its way to her husband’s ear.

The more she thought about it, the more she wondered how she even met her. She would come over from time to time just for a chat. She was never invited over to her house or ever invited out for shopping, or to meet any of her friends. It seemed both strange and comfortable.

How odd . She wondered how being alone with no real friends of her own could be comfortable. My dreams and occasional flashbacks are the only exciting things in my life , she mused.

She took another sip of her tea. The weirdest dream was being in jail. I’ve had that dream twice. The second one is the one I don’t understand. I remember being released, but it was unpleasant. There was pain. Pain from what? But I was in pain. Tortured, maybe? Oh, I wish I could make sense of something.

She took another sip of tea and tried to empty her mind, but thoughts about her dreams kept spilling out. She began reflecting on the dream she had the other night, when Fernando took her dancing. She was with friends, laughing, and having such a good time. Am I destined to meet this person? Did I know him in another life? I wonder ….

“ OH! ” She covered her face with her hands. It was a vision. A signature. Fernando Menendez . Menendez! I have a last name. Oh my God. I have a last name. Computer? Just the laptop. Jay has it. Should I wait for him to come home? No. No internet connection. Oh darn.

Still, Sandy was happy. Is he real? I can still see his face. Maybe he’s in the social media.

Sandy called a cab and went down to the Old Chicago Public Library. It was their busy time and she had to wait almost an hour to get on the internet. At last, it was her turn. She went to the search engine and typed in ‘Fernando Menendez.’ She got a couple thousand references. She went to the social media and got about a dozen references. Security was being tightened and she could only request being a friend before she could see his picture and bio. Then she’d have to wait for this Fernando to respond. She decided to go back to the search engine.