“N-None since I was in prison.” He evaded his father’s gaze and blotted the paper with a napkin.
Those two dreams still puzzled him. Why had he had them when he no longer had the camera? The other question he had was why had the dreams been about him? That had never happened before. Mark closed his eyes and recalled the details. The interrogations blended with reality until he couldn’t tell which had been dreams and which had been real. The memories of the interrogations and the dreams wove together in his mind and now he couldn’t, with certainty, separate them.
“So you’re done with that non…stuff?”
“Nonsense?” Mark jerked his head up. “Isn’t that what you were going to say?” He jumped up from the table, ignoring the coffee that sloshed and made a puddle. “I know you always hated that I chose photography instead of medicine, but goddamn it, even though I don’t have a bunch of letters after my name, I made a difference in people’s lives, Dad.” Mark clenched his jaw and fought to speak through the spasm in his throat. “I did.”
His voice broke as anger burned through him at his own emotions. He shoved the chair under the table and picked up his cup, dumping the contents into the sink. It took every fiber of self-control to keep from hurling the mug across the room. Instead, he rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher. He thought he had learned to shrug off his father’s comments. After all these years, it shouldn’t hurt so much.
He heard his dad come up behind him, but the steps stopped a few feet away. “Listen, son. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Mark bit his lip and stared out the kitchen window. It had snowed the night before and icicles shimmered and glinted in the sun as they hung from the eaves. Out of habit, his mind framed them in a shot, then with a snort, he pushed the image out his mind and dried his hands with a kitchen towel. “Well, whatever. The camera is gone and so are the dreams.”
“Mark, you know your dad. He just wants the best for you.”
His mom stood in the doorway of Mark’s bedroom, but he couldn’t look at her. The tears on her cheeks tore at his resolve to leave.
“Yeah, that’s what you always told me, but he has a strange way of showing it.” Mark stuffed his meager wardrobe into an old duffel bag. He owned just a few pairs of jeans and sweat-shirts. When he used to come visit, he’d left his good clothes at his loft. At his parents’ house, he tended to do odd jobs, helped in yard and other chores. If they went out to eat, it was to a local diner, so there was no need to dress up. Now, he wished he had left a few decent things here. A few days before, he had picked up some socks, underwear and shaving gear at the discount store. After shoving those in, he grabbed the old pea coat. It would do for the rest of the winter. It would have to if he was going to make his money last for any length of time.
“Don’t do this, hon. Don’t leave angry. Please.” She clutched at his arm as he brushed past her.
Mark clattered down the steps, trying to ignore the tendril of pain that began in his gut and wound its way up to squeeze his heart. He stopped at the front door and set the duffel down. “I’m sorry, Mom. I have to go. I’m not angry…I just…I just can’t stay here.” Earlier, he’d dug a pair of gloves out of the hall closet and now he held them up. “I hope it’s okay if I take these.”
His mother looked at them blankly, then nodded. “Yes, of course. I think there’s an extra knit cap in the closet too. I’ll get it.” Her voice shook and he swallowed hard. He was the worst son ever.
Her eyes brimmed a few minutes later as she handed him the cap along with a lumpy paper bag. “I tossed some things in there in case you get hungry on the bus. Do you have any money? I think I have some cash in my purse and I can send you some more when you get settled.”
Mark shook his head. “I’m okay. They gave me a little money when I left.” Even if he had been penniless, he wouldn’t have taken any help. His mother wouldn’t care, but his dad would attach so many strings, the loan would look like a vast spider-web and money would be the fly in the middle. He swept her into a hug and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mom.” He tightened the hug. “I’ll keep in touch.” He broke away and scooped up the strap of the bag. “Bye.”
“Good-bye, and I’ll tell your dad you said good-bye too.”
Mark just nodded as he pushed the door open. He flinched at the sound of it closing behind him. Was he doing the right thing? There was no alternative. When he was younger, his dad had seemed like the most powerful man on Earth. Nobody stood up to his dad. He wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, Mark had felt pride in the way other kids had seemed a little afraid of his father. He hadn’t blamed them. His dad could be scary sometimes. Now, Mark knew better. There were scarier men out there. He knew because he had met them.
His feet crunched across the frozen gravel as he made his way to the main road. The air bit his nose while his breath steamed around his head. He was glad for the gloves and cap and turned the collar up on the coat. It was going to be a long hike.
His mother thought he was going to catch a bus to Chicago, but he had decided to try and hitch-hike instead. Every penny counted now.
Three hours later, his feet almost frozen, he finally got a ride from an old trucker. Mark’s lips felt stiff as he tried to smile and thank the man.
“No problem. It’s awfully cold out there to be trekking very far. I’m going to Gary, Indiana. If you’re going farther, you’ll have to find another ride.” The man sounded the horn as he merged into traffic, his eyes darting to the passenger side mirrors. “Damn cars can see I’m trying to get going. I don’t know why they can’t switch to the middle lane.”
Mark cringed as a little red sports car whizzed past. “I’m going to Chicago, so if it’s not too much trouble, you could drop me off somewhere as you pass by. It doesn’t matter where.”
“You got it.” The other man reached out and turned the heat up when Mark couldn’t suppress a shiver. “You look half-frozen.”
“I am. And the other half is cold as hell.” Mark took his gloves off and blew into his hands then held them out to the vent.
The trucker laughed and nudged an open package of cookies across the seat. “Help yourself. I eat too many of the damn things.” He patted his impressive belly.
Mark ate a few cookies and then settled into the seat. The heat seeped into him, relaxing him until he dozed.
The cell felt like an inferno and Mark stripped down to his boxers, but the sweat poured off him. Had the air conditioner broken or was there a fire somewhere? The water in his sink had been shut off and he didn’t think it was close to a meal time yet. He’d give anything for a drink of ice cold water. He sank onto the steel shelf, at first it felt cool, but as his body warmed it, his skin stuck to the metal. His head ached and his throat felt raw.
The cell morphed into the interrogation room and Mark stood in front of the team, acutely aware of his almost naked state of dress. The chain around his waist scraped against his back.
A man Mark had never seen stuck his face close to Mark’s. “We’re turning up the heat. You brought this upon yourself by not telling us the truth.” Even in a dark suit and tie, the man wasn’t sweating.
How was that possible? As Mark wondered about that, the man snapped his fingers and pointed towards a long board in the corner of the room. “We got some water for you. Ice cold. You said you’d do anything for it.”
“I didn’t say that! I only thought it!” He knew what that board was for. He tried to swallow the fear, but his throat was too dry. “You don’t need to do that.”
The guards grabbed him and wrestled him to the board and strapped him down. One gripped Mark’s head and the man in the suit held a pitcher of water just above Mark’s face. A shudder shook him. “No!”
“Whoa there, buddy. Time to wake up.”
Mark started awake, and brought his hands up to wipe his face. It was dry. The lights of Chicago lit the interior of the cab.
“You okay?” The trucker raised an eyebrow.
“Just a dream.” He scrubbed his eyes. The cab had grown hot and Mark unbuttoned his coat. His mouth felt parched, but the thought of water sent a wave of revulsion through him. He tried to cover the shudder by stretching.
The cookies were gone and a smattering of crumbs covered the trucker’s belly. The man noticed Mark’s gaze and looked down, swiping the bits away with a grin. “Told you I’d eat too many. Any place in particular you wanna
