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The Red Trunks(continued) My head sprang from the breakfast table, my arms shot out, coffee
splashed across the floor. "What are you doing, Philip?" Laura slurred from the bed. "I don't know," I said. "You better wipe up that mess." "I don't know if he lived." I took a long shower to shake off the effects of the dream, which felt
like a dark, heavy mass pressing down on me. Laura protested, but I
made her wait until I felt grounded in this world again. She wanted
to survey the area, so we took the short walk into downtown to have
breakfast. By the time we were served, the large red circle above my
right eye still hadn't completely faded. "So you actually slept at the table last night. On your forehead." "I didn't plan it," I told my smirking wife. "I was
trying to stay awake." "Why would you do that?" I looked at her with what I could feel were puffy, bloodshot eyes,
wondering if she was truly interested or if she would only mock me again,
then decided I didn't care. "I had another dream last night. Acapulco
this time." "I thought all your dreams were about places we've been." "They were, up till now." "Well isn't that kind of exciting, then, visiting a new place
in your dreams?" "Except —" "Except for the red trunks, of course," Laura cut in, "your
swimwear from hell. Maybe your dreams are a premonition of something.
Did you ever think of that?" I perked up, intrigued at the idea. "Like what?" "Like maybe you should avoid tanning your ass this vacation,"
she said and cackled at her own joke. "This one was different," I said, ignoring her attempted
wit. "They all end with the same thing, Philip: you in a miserable
mood." "The little boy wearing the red trunks was drowning. They pulled
him out, but I don't know if he lived, because I woke up." A hint of sympathy entered Laura's eyes, and this time she sounded
sincere. "Then end it the way you want. It was a dream. Decide
that the boy lived and call it done. While you're at it, let's call
the whole beach-dreams thing over now, can we? We're in St. John's,
the driving is done for a few days. Can you drop the grousing about
southern vacations and join me in this one? We'll even find you a nice
beach to sit on, with a real ocean and everything. I'm sure it's just
as beautiful." Satisfied with herself, like a mother who thinks she's solved her child's
problem with the only sensible answer, she waved the waitress down for
a coffee refill, then went back to eating her scrambled eggs, her fork
clinking on her plate, gathering the eggs into a nice, neat, controlled
pile. I set my fork down on my uneaten omelet and gazed across the street
at the line of colorful buildings. The shops were open and a few cars
were parked in the shallow front lot. One storefront caught my eye,
a travel agency with a crudely lettered sign in the window. "Latest
Sell-offs," it read, then listed five destinations: Punta Cana
/ Cancún / Jamaica / Aruba / Acapulco. "My God, do you see that!" Laura dropped her fork. "What? What's wrong?" She followed
my line of sight across the street. "Trudy's Travel," she
growled. "Philip —" "The sign, the list, the places are in the same order as my dreams." "I don't care, Philip." "I know, but listen, it's not the order of our vacations; it's
the order of my dreams, including Acapulco where we never went. It has
to mean something." "It means divorce in another minute." As I stared at the travel agency, a police car rolled into the lot
and stopped. Two cops got out and went into Trudy's Travel. I burst out of my seat, nearly knocking down the waitress arriving
with the coffee pot. In seconds I had crossed the street and thrown
open the door to the travel agency. Three sets of eyes fixed on me:
the two cops, one of whom was a woman, and the travel agent behind her
desk. "What's happening here?" I demanded. "Something's wrong." "Who are you, sir?" the man asked, and I noticed both cops
had their hands over their guns. "Philip Seher," I said as calmly as I could. "I'm from
Toronto, on vacation here. Please, tell me what's wrong." Laura
appeared at the door, ready to release a tirade, then saw the police
and quietly took a position next to me.
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