Santiago ran his fingers through his hair. Not in the absent minded way of long school days and not in the irritated way of humid summer days when he wished he wore his hair shorter. Instead it was a sign of stress. It was a nervous habit that Santiago used to keep his mind clear or more accurately to keep his mind from entering an emotional spiraling downwards. Being kidnapped was enough to throw most people into a panic, but the things that were getting to Santiago were his dreams.
Both times Santiago had failed to fight off sleep and once asleep, the dreams had been frighteningly vivid and real. Normal dreams were of mash up of everyday thoughts and images that your mind weaved together into a semi-coherent story. Once you woke up, the world of the dream was cast in the light of reason and simply fell to pieces, nothing more than a manifestation of subconscious fears and desires. On the other hand, Santiago's dreams real. Both of the locations were places that Santiago had been on previous adventures with the ClueFinders, and every detail felt just as real has when he had been there. The ocean breeze from the Pacific island and the stink of the Egyptian street were just as he remembered them. Once he was in the dreams, the dream had diverged from his memories but not from the sensations of the real world. Even now, his mouth still faintly tasted of gasoline smoke.
In fact his dreams were starting to feel more real than when he was awake. Every time he managed to break through the surface of the dream world, he slowly started to sink back under. When he was awake his thoughts felt slow and fussy, unlike the clear and quick decisions he could make in the dreams. At the rate he was going he would never escape from this room. Whatever they had done to him had left him struggling to solve even the simplest of problems.
With this last thought, the edges of Santiago's vision start to fade to black. With barely any resistance, Santiago's consciousness slipped away again.
Santiago opened his eyes. He was lying on the coach in his living room. The television was on and a cartoon dog was singing a song about words that started with the letter D. Santiago sat up and noticed there was something on his lap. He picked it up and realized that is was a remote controlled car. He remembered taking it apart, trying to figure out how it worked, but there was something weird about the wires in the car. They were too small.
Santiago started looking more closely at the car when his mother walked into the room and said "Santiago! How many times do we have to tell you to stop taking apart your toys? One of these days you aren't going to be able to figure out how to put them back together."
"But mom," Santiago said. "There is something weird about this car."
"Well maybe you can bring it up with your friend Joni," his mother replied. "She had some idea about starting a detective club. But it's late! You have kindergarten tomorrow, Santiago, and you don't want to be overtired."
"Ok, mom," Santiago said. He placed the car on the coffee table and followed his mother up the stairs towards his bed room. Ten minute later, after Santiago's mom had helped him change into his pajamas and made him brush his teeth, Santiago crawled into bed.
As she was tucking him into bed, Santiago's mom said , "Ok time to say your goodnight prayer."
"Our Father, who…"
"Santiago! En Española.
"Sorry mom.
Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos
Santificado sea tu Nombre
Venga tu reino
Hágase tu voluntad
En la tierra como en el cielo
Danos hoy el pan de este día
y perdona nuestras deudas
como nosotros perdonamos nuestros deudores
y no nos dejes caer en al tentación
sino que líbranos del malo.
Amen."
"Muy bueno, Santiago," his mother said with a warm smile.
"Mom, why do I have to say my prayers in Spanish? I use English for everything else. So do you and dad, except for when you are mad at each other and don't want me to know what you guys are talking about. "
"Santiago!"
"Well it's true."
"Fine, you are right. The reason we have you say your prayers in Spanish is because we want you understand your heritage."
"Heratage?"
"Heritage, Santiago, it means our family history and culture."
"Why can't we just go back to where we lived when I was really little?"
"Santiago you know we can't go back, we have been over this."
"I know because you say it isn't safe, because there are people who will do bad things to us and because… " Santiago trailed off. There was another reason. What was it?
"That's right but when you are older and the bad people go away we will go back home." His mother looked at Santiago's face and frowned. "What's wrong?"
An idea was starting to form in Santiago's mind. He couldn't remember when he had first thought of this idea or why it took so long for him to remember it but as he started to talk he know his idea was true. "You and dad can't go back." Santiago saw the surprise on his mother's face but he could not stop the rest of the idea from pouring out. "You are political refugees. You tried to overthrow the government, but you failed and they tried to have you killed. The United States gave you asylum, because they had supported you in the revolt. That's the only reason you weren't executed."
"Who told you all this!"
"Joni's parents told me."
"But why would they…"
"They told me because you and dad are going back."
"I promise Santiago, your father and I are not going anywhere."
Despite a little voice in his head telling him not to, Santiago smiled. The little kid inside him desperately wanted to believe his mother. "You promise?"
"I promise," Santiago's mom said, as she gave him a tight hug. "You are the most important thing in our lives, and we will be here for you as long as you need us."
"Ok," Santiago said. His mother tucked him back into bed and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Goodnight Santiago."
When Santiago reopened his eyes he felt the kind of terror that can only come from a nightmare. Not rational fear, but the kind of fear that once recognized, evaporates back into one's subconscious, leaving nothing but a painful memory and dread. Without thinking Santiago slid out of bed and opened the door of his bedroom. He walked silently down the dark hallway and knocked on the door at the far end of the hallway. "Mom, I had a nightmare." There was a moment of silence and then the sound of ruffed sheets and footsteps. Santiago stood close to the door as he waited for an answer. Santiago's legs nearly gave out when the door opened and he saw an expression of confusion on Joni's face.
"I am sorry," Santiago whispered, as he turned back towards his room.
"Santiago…" Joni said, as she reached a hand out to stop him from leaving. Santiago tried to shrug her hand off but she grabbed his arm. For a second he tried to pull away, but Joni refused to let go. Santiago turned to look at Joni. Seeing the look of concern on Joni's face, Santiago leaned against the wall of the hallway. His back slid down the wall, until he was sitting on the floor. Santiago rested his head in his hands, trying in vain to blink away tears. Joni kneelt next to him and ran her fingers through his hair.
"I am sorry," Santiago whispered again.
"It's ok," Joni whispered back. They sat in the hallway for a few more minutes, before Joni started to stand. Tugging on Santiago's arm, she whispered, "You're going to wake my parents." Santiago forced himself to stand, but instead of letting his arm go, Joni started to lead him towards her room. Santiago resisted for a second, but Joni smiled and tugged on his arm again. Once in Joni's room, they sat on the side of Joni's bed. A few more minutes passed before Joni whispered "Come on its cold." She lifted the sheets and Santiago worked his way underneath. Joni silently slipped under the sheets and wrapped her arms around Santiago's neck. Finally with her lips pressed close to his ear, Joni whisper "Is there anything I can do?"
"I just can't believe they are gone."
Joni ran her hands through his hair for a few more seconds and then looking him in the eyes said, "No matter who leaves and who stays, you will always have me."
He did not know how long he stayed with Joni, but eventually Santiago moved Joni's arm from his neck and started to sit up. "I better go before we fall asleep. We don't need your parents finding us together tomorrow morning." Joni just watched as Santiago got out of her bed and walked across the room. As he moved towards the door he turned to apologize once again.
Before he had even started to speak, Joni whispered "Don't worry. Think of it as a favor. If I am even going to hit rock bottom, I know you will be there to catch me." Santiago nodded and slipped into the hallway.
As Santiago awoke he had the feeling of being hit in the chest by a cinderblock. He remembered the night with his mother, except it had been different in reality. He had not known about his parents' revolutionary activities. Joni's parents had told him about it years later. They said they thought he had a right to know. Instead the only thing he had asked that night was if his parents were ever going back to their home country, and just like in his dream his mother had reminded him that they had been over this before and how they would never go back because it was unsafe.
The night with Joni was different. That part of the dream had been real, and everything down to the smell of Joni's hair had been the exactly the same as the night it happen. The only difference was that at the end of the dream, the feeling of lose was still weighing him down, and even now that he was awake he could not shake the feeling. Santiago sat with his back against the wall of the room with his head in his hands until sleep came for him again.
