The Moments Between Read online

  It couldn’t just be a coincidence.

  If that came true, what else was going to come true?

  Ben dying?!

  That thought rattled me to my core, like an earthquake, jostling and shaking everything inside. The comforting pattern of my life, suddenly derailed.

  I held onto the counter, trying to steady my mind.

  What if my dream actually meant something?

  But it couldn’t! Could it have?

  A gust of wind rattled the window, startling me.

  I jumped backwards, almost stepping on Teddy, right underneath me.

  Anxiety pulsed through me. I needed someone to talk to.

  An outlet for my fears.

  I picked up the phone, and against my better judgement, dialed Mandi’s number.

  I needed my sister right now.

  She answered on the third ring, her voiced muffled.

  “Mandi?” I asked.

  “What is it, Claire?” she huffed in return.

  “Can you talk?” I offered reluctantly, the regret of calling already filling my mind.

  “God, Claire, can’t this wait? I am in with Swami Advani right now, getting the most divine massage, which you have so rudely interrupted.”

  “I’m sorry…I just wanted…” I stuttered, unable to formulate what I wanted to say.

  Bitterness coursed through me.

  If she didn’t want to be interrupted, why did she have her phone on in the first place?

  So, she continued. “Look, doll, I would say that I would call you afterwards, but I’m having a pedicure right after this, and then I’m headed to the country club for lunch and a tennis lesson this afternoon. How about I call you tomorrow?” The counterfeit kindness in her tone was more insulting than her words.

  I couldn’t speak, anger was prickling under my skin.

  It didn’t go unnoticed; she hadn’t asked me if everything was okay.

  “Okay, then! I must go! Ta-ta for now,” she said, making a kissing sound as she hung up.

  With the phone still to my ear, bitter tears stung my eyes.

  Honestly, I was angrier at myself than her.

  Mandi was just being Mandi. Just like Ben said.

  How could I have expected anything different from her?

  I hated myself for putting my faith in her. Again.

  Why did I always go back to the hope that she could just act like she was my sister? To be my friend, my cheerleader.

  Why were we always at odds?

  Of course, we had never acted like sisters. We’ve never had that sisterly bond, that beautiful camaraderie that I had seen with my friends and their sisters. The shopping trips, the long phone calls. The undying loyalty. All of that was foreign to me.

  We had none of it—and I had accepted that fact a long time ago.

  Yet, it still hurt. No matter how hard I tried to pretend like it didn’t. It did.

  In some ways I felt it would almost have been better to not have a sister than to have a sister, that wasn’t a sister at all.

  I longed for one. A real sister.

  Especially on a day like today. When I just needed someone to talk to. To comfort me and tell me that everything was going to be okay.

  Was it going to be okay? Every day, June 3rd got closer and closer.

  I poured some hot coffee into my cup and took a sip. Warm richness flowed over my tongue.

  I walked the floor, with my coffee cup in hand, pacing back and forth from the kitchen to the living room and back again, afraid I needed to see a psychiatrist.

  I passed through glistening, wooden door frames, sock covered feet treading lightly across the floor, thinking, wondering.

  I looked up suddenly, blinking. Remembering pieces of a conversation that I overheard Jonathan and Ben having had last Thanksgiving.

  Jonathan had been telling Ben about his latest research on how thoughts in people’s minds were linked to physical outcomes.

  Thoughts. Outcomes.

  It wasn’t dreams and outcomes… but it was as close as I was going to get at this point.

  And at least talking to my brother was better than going to a doctor.

  Even though he was my brother, I was hesitant to call him. I couldn’t remember the last time we had spoken on the phone. Not to mention, honestly, I barely knew him. Time and distance had made him a virtual stranger to me.

  But the same blood coursed through our veins, and I hoped that would be enough to connect us.

  I decided it was best to go unannounced. I didn’t want him to have the opportunity to blow me off, like Mandi did.

  At least, that was my excuse to not call first.

  I got my purse and left the house before I chickened out.

  Luckily, the boys were going over to their friends’ houses this afternoon and wouldn’t need me to pick them up at 3:00 pm when school let out, giving me plenty of time to make it to Chapel Hill and back.

  Around three o’clock, I arrived at the seven-hundred-acre campus. Traffic grew dense and slowed to a crawl as I drove through the university’s tree lined streets. I passed sprawling green lawns in front of historic buildings and streams of students walking, wearing backpacks and smiles, lost in deep thoughts or friendly conversations.

  Finally, I spotted the sign that read Phillips Hall and turned in. The parking outside of the brick-sided physics building was limited, but I finally found a space on the backside.

  I got out of the car and stretched my legs as a gust of warm air rushed against me.

  I took a deep breath, my stomach in knots, now regretting not calling first. The mid-day sun shone down through the scattered trees in the parking lot, casting freckled shadows everywhere. Song birds were in chorus all around the building, giving the place a welcoming feeling, opposing to how I felt.

  As I walked across sweltering pavement, beads of sweat began to form on my forehead and chest. It was incredible how spring had given way to summer like temperatures already.

  Sweat permeated my blouse before I even reached the doors to the building.

  As I pulled open the heavy glass door, three students caught in heavy conversation were coming out. I stepped past them into the air-conditioned building, and ice-cold air quickly cooled my skin, making me shiver from the dampness on my blouse.

  I walked under tall ceilings, my steps echoing loudly on tiled floor, as I found my way to the elevators and the building directory.

  It didn’t take me long to find Dr. J. Everly’s name. His office was on the third floor.

  I pushed the elevator call button and before long heard the groaning and straining of its approach. The doors opened and I stepped inside. As the doors I closed again, I had to fight the urge to run back out and go home. The feeling only fleeting, and after a moment, I was able to push the button for the third floor.

  As the elevator made its short journey, I wondered what would I say to Jonathan?

  How would I explain just showing up like this?

  When the doors opened again, I stood frozen in place for just a moment, uncertainty paralyzing me. I could hear the sound of distant talking and knew I had to make quick decision.

  Stay or go home?

  After a few seconds of indecision, I finally committed myself to moving forward.

  The directory had said he was in room 336. There was a deep hallway to my left and right. I stepped forward and looked as a group of guys came out of a room down the hall to left. There were about fifteen of them, all carrying books. I assumed that their class had just been dismissed. A couple of them eyeballed me as they passed. I nodded in their direction, out of nervousness and the desire to blend in. After they got on the elevator, I walked down the hallway to my left, underneath piping that ran along the ceiling, watching the numbers on the doors climb.

  Within
a few minutes I was standing in front of a wooden door with a pane of frosted glass with the number 336B etched on it.

  I knocked and a young woman answered.

  Startled by her presence, it took me a moment to speak.

  “I’m looking for Jonathan Ever…I mean, Dr. Everly,” I stuttered.

  She narrowed her eyes and looked at me warily.

  The young woman looked to be about my age, with shoulder length chestnut-brown hair that was neatly pulled back on the top by a barrette. She was wearing an A-line skirt with a white button up blouse, sleeves cuffed at the elbows. Around her neck, she wore a small scarf with dainty flowers tied to the side. Her style reminiscent of the fifties. She had a slender nose and wide-set hazel eyes, giving her a natural girl next door kind of beauty.

  “My name is Sheila Donovan and I’m his personal assistant. What can I help you with?” she said, as she straightened her shoulders and faced me squarely. Giving me the clear message that I had to get through her to get to him.

  I sensed this demeanor was in contrast to her normal personality, and I had to wonder about her response to me. But once Jonathan came around the corner, I understood at once.

  As soon as she saw him, her eyes lit up and her cheeks became a rosy pink color.

  “Dr. Everly, this woman is here to…”

  Jonathan held his hand up to her and smiled. “I know her. Sheila, this is my sister, Claire.”

  Jonathan came right up and hugged me tightly.

  Sheila’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled. Undoubtingly grateful to realize I wasn’t a threat.

  “What are you doing here?” He asked, clearly happy to see me.

  I was surprised by his warm response, but extremely grateful.

  I was happy to see him too.

  As I looked at my brother, I saw the same brown eyes with yellow flecks I saw when I looked in my own mirror. I looked at the scar on his chin that he got from a skateboarding accident when he was fifteen and the dimple in his right cheek you could only see when he smiled. He was wearing a plaid button up shirt tucked into khaki dress pants with a brown leather belt, definitely befitting of a scientist.

  I cleared my throat. “I need to talk to you about something. If you have the time. I’m sorry I didn’t call. It was rude of me but…”

  Jonathan spoke before I could finish my sentence.

  “Gosh, don’t apologize, Claire! You’re my sister. You don’t have to have an appointment to see me. Let’s go into my office.”

  He put his hand on my back and guided me to the room adjacent to the one Sheila was in.

  Sheila followed behind us. “Can I get you anything? A coffee? A tea?” she offered, her voice slightly quivering.

  Jonathan looked at me for a response, and I shook my head.

  “We’re good, but thank you, Shelia,” Jonathan responded.

  We stepped inside of his office and he closed the door. He pointed in the direction of two large cushioned chairs with padded arms just in front of his desk. I took a seat in the one to the right and felt myself sink deeply into the back of it. I tried to adjust myself so I could sit up straighter.

  He sat down in front of me at a large mahogany desk. Books and papers were scattered all over it. Nothing seemed to be in any recognizable order. It reminded me of his room when he was a teenager. I remembered Mom always complaining about it.

  I looked around his office. A non-descript gray carpet covered the floors. There was a blackboard covered in mathematical formulas I couldn’t even begin to understand. To the right of the blackboard, there hung numerous framed awards and certificates in Jonathan’s name. Along the other three walls, there were bookshelves filled to the brim with books.

  Just behind his desk was a large window. I looked out of it, and from my seat I could see large white clouds floating in the sky outside.

  Jonathan leaned forward across his desk and looked at me. I couldn’t help but notice how much he looked like our dad now, with his strong jawline and broad nose. His medium-brown hair was now speckled with grey and neatly parted to the side.

  And when he smiled, I could see my own smile reflecting back.

  “So, what’s going on with you, Sis?” his voice, warm and friendly.

  “What’s going on with you?” I countered, eager to delay this conversation.

  “You can’t tell me that you came all this way just to find out how I was doing?” he said with a half laugh.

  I couldn’t tell if he was being funny or sarcastic.

  I shrugged, not breaking eye contact.

  He leaned back. “Ah, I’m doing fine. Busy. As usual. Working on a big research project right now. Always feeling like I’m on the brink of a big discovery…” He chuckled to himself.

  “Are you seeing anyone?” I asked, thinking of Sheila.

  He laughed out loud and shook his head.

  “Nope!” He said, emphatically.

  “Why not?” I persisted.

  “I don’t know…. Girls just don’t get me. I’m not, in any way, a lady’s man. Not to mention, I spend every waking moment in the office or in the lab. Where do you suppose I am going to meet a girl?”

  “How about Sheila? She’s pretty and she likes you…I can tell.” I smiled, remembering how she lit up when she saw him.

  His eyes immediately took a glimmer that wasn’t there before, and I knew I was right about my initial gut feeling.

  “We just work together…” he protested, but I could see his mind was starting to calculate what I had said. “Why, did she say something to you?” His eyes narrowed.

  “No…but girls can tell about other girls. The way she looked at you… You should ask her to lunch sometime.” I smiled.

  He shrugged, but by the expression on his face, I knew he was suddenly looking at Sheila through new eyes.

  “How are the boys?” he asked, quick to change the subject. “They sure are growing up fast. Too fast!” he said, shaking his head.

  “Yeah…they are…” I answered.

  Just then, the phone on his desk began to ring. He picked it up, holding up one finger to me, letting me know he wouldn’t be long.

  After five minutes of him talking to the caller, I got up and walked to the window to get a better look out.

  It overlooked the back-parking lot, where I had come in.

  Now much emptier, with only a few cars left.

  I went over to the wall where Jonathan’s certificates were hanging. I was astonished to see all the degrees he had and all the awards he had won. I had no idea about all of his accomplishments. I felt a lump of shame rise up.

  I looked over at him, still talking on the phone. He was arguing with someone about a formula. When he saw me look at him, he smiled and held up his finger again. Obviously, the debate with the caller was professional in nature.

  “So, you want a tour?” he offered after he hung up. Clearly sensing and respecting the fact I wasn’t quite ready to talk about what had spurred my visit.

  I nodded, relieved to not have to talk about it.

  Not yet, anyway.

  He took me through his auditorium style classroom and then to his personal lab. He unlocked the door and waited for me to step through. The lab was small and nondescript, with no windows. I was surprised by the starkness of it. The room was odd, with a small empty desk and an adjacent table with several desktop computers. In the corner were several other machines I didn’t recognize. There were also two closet sized rooms attached to the main one with one-way privacy windows to each, but he didn’t take me into them.

  I didn’t know how he could spend so much time in those rooms.

  After the tour was over, we headed back to his office. When we passed by Sheila’s office, the door was open. She stood up and smiled when she saw us, her face taking on that same rosy glow from earlier.

&nb
sp; Jonathan stopped in front of her door, stuttered a little and then walked off in a huff.

  I thought of when I first met Ben and couldn’t speak properly myself. Apparently, not being able to talk to people we were attracted to was an inherited disorder.

  As I walked away, I saw her face was strained with confusion.

  I smiled as I passed by her, knowing by the way he acted he would ask her out soon.

  We went back into his office and took our respective seats.

  “So, now will you tell me why you came?” He looked at me inquisitively. “I mean, if you’re more interested in just sitting here and looking at me awkwardly, I’m fine with that. I’ll sit here with you. But I have a feeling there’s something going on…”

  I wrung my hands in my lap, trying to figure out how to start.

  He sat patiently waiting for me to speak.

  When I finally found my voice, it sounded like someone else was talking.

  He listened to me intently without saying a word, aside from the occasional question to get clarification. When I finished speaking, he leaned back in his chair and put his hands on the back of his head, lost in thought.

  I patiently waited for his response.

  Maybe he would have some answers.

  It was several seconds before he began to speak, but when he did, I knew he had taken me seriously.

  “First of all, I want to tell you that you’re not the first person to ever experience something such as this. There are many recorded stories of this very thing happening, all over the globe. Don’t feel like there’s something wrong with you because of it. Studies have shown that at least twenty percent of people claim to have had a premonition type dream that came true.

  The Ancient Greeks and Egyptians believed some dreams contained pertinent information for the dreamer. They took dreams very seriously back then. The dreams of rulers and royalty were often interpreted and studied for any symbolism that might give insight into their future.”

  “How did they know which dreams were to be taken seriously, and which ones weren’t?” I asked, leaning in closer to his desk. The smell of dust and polished wood wafted up my nose.

  “Well, honestly, they didn’t. The only clue is that the usual precognition dream is negative in nature and usually involved disaster or death. From what I have learned with these type of dreams, the events usually follow within hours or days, but sometimes not for several months. There are no clear standards.”