04: Who are you?

It was Jenny. She had changed out of her uniform and was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and one of my college T-shirts… this one brown and gold, and a pair of bunny slippers. She had been crying and her face was all streaked. I put my book down, “Hey Jen’s, come on in,” I said, as she paused at the door, uncertainly.

She looked at me, looked at the floor, closed the door and, stepping carefully over the pile of clothes I had left in front of the door, sat down at the end of my bed. She stared at me for a second, shook her head, and said, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For being mad at you. Not that I was mad at you, but I acted like it.”

“No problems Jens, I knew you would come talk to me when you were ready. What happened?”

“Oh, it’s just… I don’t know. It wasn’t really anything, but we, Suzy and I, that was Suzy Tesch, got all upset at each other. Suzy is all mad at me because she thinks that I like her boyfriend. Which I do, but not like that, it’s not like I do anything about it. I mean, I can’t help it if he likes me, can I?”

I looked at her, and she blushed, “Well, you’re right, maybe I can. And maybe she is right,” Jenny started to cry, and I hugged her.

“Hey,” I said, “why don’t you go call Suzy? Apologize or something. Have a nice long chat. And leave her boyfriend alone. You have your own boyfriend, no?”

She looked at me, “What?” She blushed, “No. Not, as a boyfriend. I have told you that I am interested… and he is… but we’re not really boyfriend and girlfriend. You know how Dad feels about that.”

“I know,” I said, “but what I meant was you don’t need to go stealing other girls boyfriends.”

She cried again, and then said, “Thanks so much, Bobbi. I am so glad to have you back from college.”

“Me too, Jen’s.”

I expected her to go, but she just sat there and stared at me.

“What’s wrong with you, Bobbi?”

That was a good question. What to tell her, though. “I… I don’t know Jens. I… I’m not sure how much I can tell you.”

“You can tell me anything, Bobbi!”

“I know that, Jens, but this isn’t like that. This isn’t that I got in trouble at school, or like some new boy. This is much, much bigger. And I don’t even know if it is real.”

“Oh, Bobbi. And you can’t tell me what it is?”

“You… you won’t like it. You probably won’t even like me anymore.”

“Oh, Bobbi!” She said, a panicked look on he face, “I will, I will still like you, whatever you have done.”

“You will like Bobbi, but will you like me?”

She stared at me in silence for a long time… “But, but you are Bobbi…?”

“Am I? Are you sure. I’m not. I don’t know who I am.”

“What?” She said, tears running down her cheeks, “Bobbi, stop!”

“Well, Ok,” I said, and drank some more Coke.

“Tell me!” She said.

“You said you wanted me to stop.”

“Oh, Bobbi,” she said, and flung herself at me, clinging desperately to me, “Oh, Bobbi, please, please tell me, don’t be like that.”

“OK,” I said, “but I need you to stop crying. Go wash your face and come back. I will need you to be a very big girl.”

She left hurriedly, and I considered my decision. She had forced me into it but, even in a dream, I would like someone to talk to. She took quite a while to come back. I was glad that Mom was out at her volunteer work and that we would have some time.

I got up and looked out the window into the back yard. It was the same backyard, even with my fort in it. The fort had curtains on it, though, and was painted, two things that Caleb and I had never done. The other window showed me Caleb’s house… assuming that Caleb existed in this world, or dream, or whatever. It thought he must though, as his car had been parked outside their house this morning. I went closer to the window and looked toward the front, yes, it was still there. He must not have any jobs this morning. I heard the door open,

“OK, Bobbi, I’m ready,” Jenny said, this time sitting in the chair at my desk.

I turned and handed her the paper. “Page five, bottom, the one about ‘Who Am I’.”

I turned back to the window, and heard her rustling the paper as she read. I heard her put the paper down, and turned back toward her. He eyes were wide, “You, you’re part of this?”

“I think so,” I said. “It seems like it. Here,” I added, throwing her the journal. “Read today’s entry.”

I again heard the pages rustling, and then a sharply indrawn breath, and then a scream, and she rushed out of the door and back to the bathroom. I followed her. She was frantically washing her face.

“That point one was a bit of a doozy, eh?” I said.

“I’m trying, Bobbi,” she answered, still washing. “I’m trying to be a big girl for you…”

She looked up, water running down her face. “But, but you aren’t Bobbi, are you? Who are you?”