Chapter 6

It was light out when Emerson awoke. He could see strains of it filtering through the partly closed drapes, and he peered blearily at it for a moment. He still felt tired; as though he hadn’t gone to sleep at all.

Of course, he knew he had slept; the nightmares were sufficient proof of that. The scenes alternated between his own guilt forcing itself to the foreground, his mother’s disapproval asserting itself, and his brother’s fleeting self telling him something he couldn’t understand. Of all the dreams Emerson had had about his brother Michael over the years, this was by far the most disturbing. In it, Emerson was six year old Milo again, and he was seeing his brother for the last time, suitcase in hand, turning around to say goodbye. He added something quietly as he stood to go, but Emerson couldn’t quite catch it. He understood its importance, though, and he needed to be the bearer of news to his older self. His childhood self would run after his brother, but it would be too late. He would hear the sound of a train whistle blaring, and hour after hour, it woke him up.

He had no clue of what Michael was trying to tell him, or what his subconscious was, either, but he realized that someone did know. There was someone out there possibly at this very moment wondering about the same thing: Michael and his untimely death.

Mei would be back from her vacation soon, and she would be shocked to have no house to clean. Emerson knew he needed to find a better place than this motel to call home. He supposed the lawyer could help him arrange that. He fished his wallet from the nightstand and used the card inside to dial the man. He waited patiently on hold while the secretary fetched the lawyer, and finally he was rewarded with the calm, “Hello?”

“Hello,” Emerson said, “I’m afraid I have some bad news. The family home has burned down.”

“I see,” the lawyer said, sounding surprised. “It’ll be a few hours while I dig up the policy… I presume that’s why you’re calling?”

“Yes,” he replied, businesslike. “Also, I need to find a new place of residence.”

“Are you looking to buy another property or rent something temporary?”

“Oh, I’d like to buy, definitely.”

“All right,” the man said. “I’ll get your line open with the bank so we can draw funds from it. Did you have a figure in mind?”

“No, but what would you suggest?”

Houses cost a lot more than Emerson might have imagined, given how shocking he found the lawyer’s estimate to be. He tried not to choke as he answered, “Good. Thank you.”

“I’ll put you in touch with an associate office of realtors. I’m sure someone there can help you find just what you want.”

“What I want,” Emerson echoed. He wondered quite what that was.

He wrote down the offered number and ended the call.

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