Page 33 of Dima's Vision
Huh. That’s new. Normally I do what I want, when I want, consequences and people’s feelings be damned. I wonder if Dima has made me a better person? I mean, clearly not, as I still hung up on them, but at least I thought twice about it.
Heading back inside I stand in the doorway to Mama’s reception room, gazing in. It’s crazy to me that here in this room is everyone I care deeply about and the gnawing fear I usually have doesn’t seem to feel as suffocating as usual. It’s almost as if I can savor this moment without worrying about anyone dropping dead out of nowhere.
I walk in and plop myself down on Dima’s knee, ignoring the soft look that dances across his face. I have to keep my bad bitch vibes even if I go all gooey inside when he wraps an arm around my middle and pulls me into him.
“Everything alright?” His warm breath tickles my ear.
“Yeah. My cleaners are a little behind.”
He grunts, then presses a kiss to my temple as I settle into him. The room quiets and Gabe side-eyes me. He was never one to come right out and say stuff, which on a normal day is annoying, but with this whole Maddigan thing hanging over our heads it’s down right infuriating.
“Ugh, fine. I’ll go first.” I turn to look at Mama, seated at her little table, Gabe stuffed in a tiny chair across from her and a pitcher of her favorite sweet tea between them. “You know how I said whoever was doing this was like Maddigan?” Mama nods sagely. “Well, I, ah, how do we explain this?” I look at Dima over my shoulder.
He clears his throat, “Somehow Kristie and I share gifts. I can hear whispers and she can see the lost. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Celene?”
“Mmm-hmm, dat’s a strange ting, cher.”
“Very strange,” I reply, giving her a bored look. Her lips twitch but she hides it behind her glass of tea, bringing it to her lips and taking a sip.
“Anyway. We have both seen Maddigan in our visions, but, at the same time, he’s not Maddigan. It’s like someone wearing Maddigan’s face. I don’t know how to explain it. Anyway, I asked Gabe to meet me at the cemetery-”
“Why dere?”
“So he can, you know, talk to Maddigan.”
Mama gives me an odd look. “Chile, Gabe can speak to him anywheres. Don’ matter where he at.”
“Yeah, I know thatnow.”
“I don’t know how you didn’t know before,” Gabe interjects, just to be a shit stirrer.
“You always kept to yourself!” I point out.
“I was busy talking to all the dead people visiting me!” he argues back.
“Well, and I was too busy worrying about everyone dying and then coming back to talk to you to notice, obviously!”
“Nuff now! Always the same, always bickerin’. You love, but you love fightin’ harder. Ain’t neither o’ ya hold the keys to death.”
“Sorry, Mama,” we both say at exactly the same time. Eyes darting to each other. I roll my lips between my teeth to stop the giggle that wants to rise up, as it always did when Mama would tell us off.
“Now den, tell me what for we sittin’ here.”
Gabe fidgets in his seat, looking exactly the way he did when he was a scrawny kid with an unkempt afro. Now he’s a 6’6” hulkof a man but still I see the boy as if he’s in front of me. I know that sooner or later Mama will snap at him to spit it out if he doesn’t break the silence.
I let out a sigh and decide to throw him a bone. “I wanted Gabe to see if he could talk with Maddigan. Just so I can put that idea to bed and we can find out exactly what the fu-uuuudge is going on.”
“Yeah. But, well, his body is there. Where we lay him. I checked. But-”
“But what?” Dima, Mama and I all speak at almost the same time.
Gabe glares at us, still struggling to find the words. “But not all his soul is there. I can feel him, where he lies, but also, I can’t.”
“De soul fracture?” Mama sits forward, placing her glass on the table between her and Gabe. I don’t miss the slight tremor in her hand.
“I don’t, I mean, maybe? I’ve never come across it before,” Gabe says, running a hand down his face.
“Izlóm dushi,” Dima whispers.
