Chapter 40
The smell of toast and coffee greeted Brenda as she roused, her head pounding and stomach roiling.
Had Bobby made her breakfast? Wait, wasn’t today his deployment? Had he come home, or had that been a dream? By the smell of things, he must have, surely.
She rubbed her eyes, and looked up into an unfamiliar face. Startled, she drew back, gasping. That was definitely not Bobby.
“Who are you?” she asked the small auburn-haired woman with stars painted on her face. “What are you doing in my house?”
The woman held up a tray of breakfast. “Good morning!” she chirped. “I’m here to care for you while you recover from your hangover! My name’s Alicia.”
Bewildered at the intrusion, Brenda sat up, trying to ignore the sensation of spinning. “Who let you in here?”
Alicia placed the tray—which was laid out with a tall cup of coffee, a glass of water, buttered toast, and aspirin—on the nightstand, and gave a flourish with her hands. “Bon appetit!” She smiled down at Brenda with a cheerful posture. “I’m helping you as a favour to—um, Bobby.”
With a realisation, Brenda shot a hand to her mouth. “Bobby’s gone, isn’t he? Oh god, I can’t believe I didn’t say goodbye…”
“Uh, well, he’s not here, but he ain’t gone either,” Alicia said sheepishly. “See, he kinda broke his wrist. So now he can’t ship out for a while. He’s at the hospital now getting patched up.”
Through the fog of her hangover, it took Brenda a moment for this information to process.
“Are you pulling my leg?”
“No, hon,” Alicia insisted. “Honest to God. You can call the hospital if you want. Balboa Naval, I think it was.”
Brenda felt her eyes welling up with tears of sheer relief. Bobby would be with her a little longer. She wouldn’t have to be alone.
“I still don’t know who you are,” she said through her choked throat.
“I’m Richie’s friend,” she said. “Oh, I should probably tell you that he’s in the living room, along with a couple more of us.”
Brenda blinked, vaguely recalling that Bobby had told her he’d had to deal with some kind of emergency with his brother. He hadn’t told her that he’d come back with him. But then again, she didn’t remember much since some time last night when she was well into her second bottle of wine and weeping on the floor of the living room.
She really had to stop this. God, she was a mess.
I should have listened to Bobby the first time he brought it up. I’ve been such a disgusting drunk… She shuddered as the shame swelled in her chest.
She alternated between sobbing and drinking from the glass of water thirstily as Alicia climbed onto the bed beside her and threw an arm around her shoulders.
“Hey,” she said softly, “if you need to talk it out, I’m all ears, man. I used to be an alcoholic, ya know. It’s tough to get clean.” With a smirk, she added: “Especially if you don’t replace it with weed.”
Brenda didn’t know this Alicia from Adam, but the way this strange little woman was comforting her made her feel a bit better, so she allowed her to continue without protest.
She took up a slice of toast and nibbled, only to find that her stomach wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment.
The room began to spin more violently as she got up, clutching her stomach and mouth. Alicia helped her to the bathroom to throw up in the toilet, holding back her hair and comforting her in the same way Bobby had done a couple of nights prior.
Really, she hadn’t had anyone other than Bobby treat her so kindly in a long time. And, even as she felt like death, the sense of lonesomeness she had become accustomed to when Bobby wasn’t home, was held at bay by the gentle, selfless support of this stranger.
“Thank you…” she said, as the two of them returned to the bedroom. She collapsed back in the bed, feeling utterly wretched.
“No sweat,” Alicia said with a grin. “Where I hail from, we help each other. You don’t even have to ask, y’know?”
“And you come from… Richie’s hippie commune?”
“We don’t really call ourselves hippies,” she said, chuckling. “Call us free spirits. But yeah. We’re a community. That’s why it’s called a commune.”
“Well… I guess I mighta… jumped to conclusions about you people,” Brenda confessed. “I… well, I kinda thought you were smelly cowards who sat around doing drugs and burning American flags all day. No offence.”
Alicia’s chuckle graduated into peels of laughter. “Well, you sure are honest, I’ll give you that. I mean, some of that might have a little truth, but for me, it’s all about living for one another. Building things as a group.” She nudged Brenda’s shoulder with her own. “You might be pleased to know we just ditched all our drugs on Al—uh, I mean Richie’s request.”
“Really? Richie?” Brenda’s head swam. Had she… misjudged the errant twin?
Alicia nodded. “You want me to go get him? You can talk.”
Brenda reached for the aspirin, her head still feeling like a mariachi band had taken up residence in there and was playing its trumpets at top volume. “Maybe… not just yet.”
* * *
It was only as Sam A felt a tug on his vest that he realised he’d been sleeping. He opened his eyes, noting he was lying awkwardly on Bobby’s couch. His neck felt stiff and sore.
Mike was standing in front of him, and had been the source of the tug.
“Hey,” he said, giving the kid as best a smile he could with a face that hurt as much as his did. He straightened up, rubbing at his neck. “What can I do for you?”
It occurred to him that he still had no clue what Mike was doing here. Sam B had turned up with Marsha—that was to be expected; she was heavily invested in Richie’s well-being. But Alicia and Mike? Why had they tagged along? He was fairly sure his counterpart wouldn’t have been happy about their presence.
“How come you were fighting with your brother?” Mike asked.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Sam said, knowing that answer would be completely inadequate for a kid this curious.
“I’m not stupid,” Mike protested. “Just ’cause I can’t read don’t mean I can’t understand stuff…”
Sam reached a hand out, clutching Mike’s shoulder. “I know, Mike. You’re real bright. But this is… something kind of hard for anybody to understand.”
Mike frowned. “Well, my Mom always says you don’t need to fight when you can talk. And if that doesn’t work, you just ‘gotta get some distance.’ Like when she left my Dad.”
“Your Mom is a smart lady,” Sam said. “I was trying to get some distance, you know. That’s what I came here for. I don’t think there’s much more talking I can do with him.” He chuckled, standing up. “But unfortunately, we still have some loose ends to tie up before you get Richie back. I just hope we don’t throttle each other first.”
He headed into the kitchen, aiming to refill his melted ice pack, but as he opened the refrigerator, the glowing white Imaging Chamber door opened in front of it, obscuring the view inside. As Sam jumped back, Al walked in through the doorway. Sam noticed that his eyes were rimmed red, and wondered what was the matter. But he didn’t seem to pay attention to Sam, instead turning back to the doorway and looking at something Sam couldn’t see.
“No, I’m not sure, but Ziggy said it’s the highest odds,” he said to what Sam assumed must have been Verbena. “Come on.” He watched the invisible person a moment longer before turning to Sam.
“You look… upset,” Sam said, cocking his head. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
Al shook his head. “It’s nothing, Sam. Don’t worry about it.” He turned back to the unseen person. “Look, we need to help him, right? He can’t go on being so conflicted… I know, but what else can we do?”
“Al, what’s going on?” Sam pressed. “What’s Verbena saying?”
Al grimaced. “It’s not Verbena I’m talking to.” He took a deep breath, and looked at Sam through worried brown eyes. “Though this was her idea. I think maybe we should go somewhere a little more private. Like out in the backyard.”
With narrow eyes, Sam nodded and headed out the kitchen door to the modest fenced-in yard, with Al following through the wall.
“What’s this about, Al?” Sam asked. “Who is it you’ve got with you? Gooshie?”
“Not Gooshie.”
Al reached out a hand, and a moment later, a woman appeared next to Al, grasping his hand.
“Hi, Sam.”
As Sam stared at the woman, recognition flooded into his mind, and in an instant, a huge chunk of Swiss cheese filled itself in.
“Donna…” With weakened knees, he let himself fall back against the wall of the house. With memories of his leap home now accessible, his eyes flooded with tears. “I forgot you again. Why can’t I—?”
“It’s okay, Sam,” Donna said, her eyes similarly teared up. “What’s important is that you remember me now. And I need you to know that your life matters to me, okay?”
She reached a hand out to him, and he reciprocated, only to have them pass through one another.
Sam sighed. “I… wish I could be there with you…”
“You will be some day,” she said, her voice husky. “You promised me. Remember?”
And then Sam understood why Verbena had suggested this. She needed him to understand Sam B’s longing to be home. And his need to survive long enough to return to his wife.
He wasn’t just a leaf on the wind, being blown from one place to another. He had a life waiting for him back home, and a woman he loved who he couldn’t let down.
Wiping tears from his swollen cheeks, he nodded to Al. “Al, you tell Verbena…” he sniffed, “tell her she’s amazing.”
He turned back to Donna. “I’m sorry I forgot you, Donna.”
“It’s for the best,” she said in a choked voice. “But I’ll be waiting for you. So you’d better come home some day, okay?”
Sam nodded. “I intend to keep that promise. I love you, Donna.”
“I love you too, Sam.”
The sound of a taxi pulling up in the driveway made all three turn their heads. Through the gate, Sam could see his other self getting out, his arm in a sling. He didn’t notice Donna promptly letting go of Al’s hand.
“Sam, what do you say we finish this leap?” Al asked.
“I’m ready if he is.”