Seconds are Nice
Daniel sat at his desk and repeated patterns of pondering and writing.
“Ok. Three weeks ago everything felt much better. So what if I stopped going to Marc and the group work? Why should things get worse?”
The monitor on the shelf beside him displayed a picture of two actors sword fighting in a gymnasium.
The image of Micheline, a blond with chocolate brown eyes, rosy cheeks, button nose, and dimpled cheeks flashed in his mind.
“Why am I seeing your face... stronger now?” he wrote.
He stopped, flinching, sniffing lemony perfume then inhaling hard and exhaling. He stood, paced and touched lower back. “Geez! Geez, what just happened! It's like you were here right in front of me!”
He walked quickly out of bedroom and zipped up the two flights of stairs, taking two steps at a time, to the kitchen, ignoring Mom at the table and darting for the refrigerator. He pulled out container of orange juice and banged it against the door before plopping it on the counter.
“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Mom corrected. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“You`re banging too much because you’re going too fast.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Is there anything wrong?”
He wondered if he should talk about seeing Micheline in a vision. “I’m just a little anxious.” He walked quickly to the stairs.
“Daniel?”
“Huh? What's the matter?”
“Did you forget something?”
He searched for an answer. “Sorry, Mom. What?”
She pointed to the counter.
“Oh, sorry.”
He wandered there, and returned container to its place.
“Ok. What’s bothering you?”
“It's nothing, only something that's happening to me ever since the night I saw Marc and his group.”
“Like what?” Mom asked, pulling reading glasses further down her nose.
“Ok. For one reason or another… I can see things stronger now than I could see them before.”
“Like how?”
He debated the answer. “Ok, I don't know why, but I can usually see Micheline's face at least once a year, and at around this time of the year,” he answered, rubbing lower back.
“I understand. You always liked her.”
“Yeah, but this time it's different. A few minutes ago it was like I could smell her.”
The stiffness seemed to intensify with each passing second.
“You don't say!”
“Yeah. It's annoying, especially when I'm working on my movie.”
“I understand.”
He turned and skipped the initial three steps down.
“Uhm, Daniel ?”
“Yeah?”
“You didn't tell me how it went at Marc's place. Who was there and what did you do?”
More contemplation as he returned to the spot. “It's hard to describe if you weren't there. Everyone has their way of seeing things.”
“How's that?”
He took a deep breath. “Ok. One woman could see ghosts, two others were certified Reiki masters, and one girl was there because she said her parents would commit her to the Royal Ottawa if she didn't go see him that night.”
“My god! That's one heck of a group.”
“Yeah!”
“By the way... I forgot to mention. We’re invited to Ray's wedding.”
“When did you find out about that?”
“Aunt Jane called the other day to tell us we’d be invited to the wedding. I just forgot to mention it to you...”
“Ok?”
“By the way, I was thinking... I know money is pretty tight for you, so... would you mind sharing a room with your sisters when we’re there?”
He looked at her and debated. “Ok. But I’m taking my car.”
“You think that old thing can make the trip?”
“Yeah. I know all her little secrets.”
“Ok. If you say so... Oh, and maybe you'll see Micheline there?”
“Surely,” he said half smiling as he disappeared down the stairs.
*****
He stared at the monitor, painting strokes on a wall in the movie.
An image of Micheline flashed. Daniel shook his head in an attempt at wiping it away and continued.
The telephone upstairs started ringing.
“Hello.... oh, how are you?” He heard Mother inquiring.
He continued to work, but the call was distracting. “Ok universal energy,” he whispered. “So I could hear a pin drop upstairs. What's the point? What are you trying to tell me?”
“Dear?” Mom called. “Could you pick up the phone? It's your sister, Jane.
“Ok. So maybe I'll hear something about Micheline?”
He painted general areas of the project, movements growing more and more twitchy. He stopped. “This is stupid. Get a hold of yourself.”
He stood feeling tightness and pinching in his lower back. He placed keyboard and tablet in their usual spots.
He stood, surprised by the intensity of the pain, trying to work it out of lower back as he stepped to the door, changed his mind, and walked to the head of his bed.
“No. Don't go yet. Don't look like the call is really important to you.”
He returned to desk for keyboard and tablet, sat, and stared at the monitor.
More brush strokes and a mistake.
“Crap!”
He cancelled the last action and returned hardware to their places before leaving the room.
Dad was pushing himself further back on the recliner, watching a game show on the big screen TV. Dad was fit at 55. His graying hair always seemed groomed and he was quiet almost all the time.
Daniel sat on the long couch. “A pause from an intense moment with work on the movie.”
“Uh huh.”
“So, how are things with Aunt Jane?”
“Nothing special.”
“That's nice to know.” He stayed long enough to make believe he was cleaning fingernails before returning to bedroom.
He stared intently at the left monitor, painting a section of T-shirt on one of the actors.
Micheline popped to mind.
Daniel pressed keys on keyboard to save the work. An error message appeared on screen:
"Insufficient memory to complete action. Save your work and restart system".
He growled shallowly and that surprised him. He rebooted, placed keyboard on desk and walked out.
Dad was in the recliner, watching golf.
Daniel went casually to the couch.
Her full body flashed to mind. “I'm looking forward to the wedding, to see my cousins, and get away from things for a few days.”
“Uhm, hmm.” Dad worked himself out of recliner and walked to the rear of the room, to the shelf stuffed with outdated computer books. “Oh... the other day, when Jane called, she said that Micheline's engaged.”
“Really? How long ago?”
“I'm not sure, but I think Aunt Jane said something like three months ago.”
Daniel forced a smile through a cramp.
“Yeah, I knew you liked her when you were a teenager, so I thought you'd find that pretty funny.”
Daniel stared at the wall, wanting to scream, then at the couch before turning to the television.
Dad returned to the recliner.
Daniel took time in standing. “Well, the computer should be rebooted by now.”
A sinking feeling took hold. He wanted to pass out.
He sat with keyboard, and stared blankly at the monitor. “I thought energy communicated a need for something. What are you telling me, Micheline?” He started the software, and stared at the monitor.
Micheline flashed to mind, along with a busy environment around her. “To hell with this!”
He shoved keyboard on desk and walked out.
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The balance of this story is available at Amazon as part of a collection of short stories in "Short Stories: To Think and Feel"
