The Fate of Droplets (vii)

I was awake when Henry called, though the house had been silent and the ringing startled me.
“Alexis, have I waken you?”
“No Henry, you're fine.” I had not been sleeping, but felt heavy and groggy. A small glass of whiskey sat next to my computer and I contemplated it before Henry spoke again.
“Georgia visited.”
“I saw her in the stairwell.”
“She did not mention that. She had made it sound like happenstance that she was in the neighborhood. I did not know she knew where I lived.”
“I think I showed her yesterday.” Something in his tone struck me, and I reached for the whiskey, sipping slowly from it.
“Georgia, she asked me about my experience. She refered to as 'the incident,' which sounded strange to me.”
“She is very scientific. It is a word she would use.” The motion of the drink in the glass caught my attention, it wavered back and forth, small but majestic. “What did you tell her?”
“Well, I was open to her at first. I tried to focus on details, which is what she asked of me to do. She asked certain questions, questions that surprised me.”
“What do you mean?”
“She asked about the city I saw, or what I could say was a city but also wasn't. The place I saw flowed in many directions like a city, but there were no obvious barrier, nothing that did and did not flow, only everything at a different pace. I did not tell you everything, nor did I tell Georgia. What I told both of you was only the beginning. At the beginning and at the end was the city, but Brother James and I discussed what was beyond that, what I felt and touched was much deeper, much older. Brother James knows words for that place, words I cannot now explain. When I mentioned the smell in my dreams, that was the smell of the deeper place. Georgia asked about the scent, about my dreams, about much more than she ought to have thought of to ask.”
“George has a very inquisitive mind. Might that have been part of it? Could she just have noticed details more so than me?” Agitation hinted at his voice, which bled into mine; my voice wavered as I spoke.
“That is unlikely. In the hospital, her presence moved me, it manipulated the momentum around me, the motions to which I have become sensitive. All people seem to change the energies in the room, it is only natural with how we are bound up—life and tissue and pulse and electricity—but she has a different frequency. I believe I ought to fear her.”
“You ought to fear her? Henry, I have known George for years. She is pragmatic, even opportunistic, but I have never known her to harm anyone.”
“I hope that you are right. Speaking with you calms me. Perhaps I sound a little bewildered. I am very much not myself, so much around me feels novel. Georgia does have a potent personality, and her inquisitiveness is unusual.” Henry spoke distantly, removed from his own thoughts. This was his attempt to calm me despite his own concerns. Then, I accepted it in a lackluster way. The days had worn on me heavily and I had hoped, yearned for some return to normality. Now, Henry was implying something malevolent in George, and I did not have the energy to hear it. “Visit me tomorrow or the day after. If you see Georgia, tell her I am with my parents. I do not wish to see her for some time. Good night, Alexis. Thank you.”
“Good night, Henry.”
With the click of the phone, I sighed and reached for my drink, but found it already empty. I walked into the kitchen and poured myself another glass and plunked in an ice cube, which clattered against its base and then its walls. On the refrigerator was a note from Mona, a little handwritten invitation to Jessica's party. I thought of Thomas and the conversation that had intrigued Henry earlier. As I sat down at my desk again, I picked up the my phone and called Mona. It rang a while, but she eventually answered.
“Hey Lex,” she answered, neither unhappy nor enthused.
“Would you want to get coffee tomorrow?”
“Sure, but I can't. I have work and then a class in the afternoon and am studying with friends through dinner. What about Tuesday?”
“That's fine, I'd like that.” I paused, feeling the silence on the line and wondering what to say. “Something else. Have you known Thomas for a long time?”
“A while. He dated Jessica for a while, that's how we met. Why?”
“Something about him from that night sticks out. When he and I were on the patio, he acted funny.”
“He acted strange? You had to walk Henry home.” At this, I could hear the reluctant smile in her voice, and I could not help but smile, blushing mildly. “But I know what you mean. He likes to pick arguments, but that was a weird one for him to go after. You two were still talking about it out there, weren't you?”
“We were. I wanted to nail down his opinion on his argument.”
“He can dodge around just to see what everyone's thinking without saying much himself. What did you learn?”
“He mentioned that he thinks politics or culture or whatever are impacted by something we can't figure out. How he acted as I asked him was strange, almost paranoid.”
“What? How? Thomas is so confident, that doesn't make sense.”
“He kept scanning the backyard, as if he was seeing things. It”—and here I faltered, pausing sharply—“reminded me of someone.”
“Well, I don't know anything about it.”
“I didn't suspect you to, but I wanted to talk to someone about it. Sorry for leaving so suddenly.”
“Henry needed your attention. It was good of you. It was nice that you came, I liked seeing you in that jacket.”
“Thanks. You looked pretty phenomenal.”
We both were smiling, perhaps even blushing, and a warm silence circulated.
“I have work in the morning. So, good night, Lex.”
“Good night, Mona. I'll see you Tuesday.”
“Tuesday, I look forward to it,” and shortly after, the phone clicked.