Off My Feet by Rachel Tremblay

Author:Rachel Tremblay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: GrindSpark Press
Published: 2020-06-16T00:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

When night fully drops, my eyelids follow, and I dive into my mind, into a world that has become foreign and fickle.

Standing in a bookstore, still as a display, I’m facing a dirty man draped in torn, threadbare clothes. He’s going to mug me, I’m almost sure, because in my pockets I have all my money. Like eight hundred dollars or something. Which is less than in waking life, but right now, this is my reality. Eight hundred dollars is the total of my riches. And, in a dream, when you have that kind of money on you and a beggar stares you down, you know that they know it’s there. There are many people around, and mugging me would be stupid, maybe even impossible. He takes a step closer, his smell as assaulting as a slap in the face.

“Frank?” I say, recognizing him from what feels like a previous life.

“If you give me your eight hundred, I can give you even more.” He flashes an ATM receipt to prove that he has shitloads of cash in the bank. “Follow me.”

For some reason, I do. But just before stepping outside, I flick my wrist, which is still stained from the pool’s ashes, and all the people crowding the store follow me out. Just a few picks and shovels short of being an angry mob, we make our way down a city street and up to an ATM machine. I give the man three hundred only. Without a word of protest, he deposits it, and the machine responds by spewing out bills like a broken copy machine from an eighties comedy.

“I’ve never seen so much money in my life,” I say.

Frank collects his three hundred from the pile, and I shove as much as I can in my pockets, in my shoes, up my sleeves, in my bra. Money pokes out of every nook like hay from a scarecrow. Frank stands before me, quietly assessing my loot. He still wants to mug me, that much is clear, but I’m surrounded by onlookers, so he leaves. When I turn, the scene has changed. Everyone is gone, the city is gone, I’m standing on dirt ground. I’m by the cliff where Wolf and I flew.

I double check my hands to make sure I’m still dreaming, and, though dyed black, they are perfectly deformed. That’s good enough for me.

“Ok. Let’s get to it.”

My money, having neatly rolled itself into tight wads all on its own, weighs down my pockets so much I have to hold on to my waistband to keep my pants up. I flag a cab with my free hand.

“To the forensic dentist’s office, please,” I tell him. “And step on it.” I’ve always wanted to say that.

We speed forward, clouds of dust swelling behind us. Through the woods that line the field, we swerve to avoid trees at a speed that will either make me puke or die. We don’t die, and I hold my stomach down as the car jets out of the forest and onto the sandy grounds of a vast, rust-coloured desert.

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