What Happened In Paradise?

First Visit: Dream State

Broken twigs and sharp stones bore into Maxwell's feet as he walks the narrow footpath. He's misplaced his sandals again, but he doesn't stop to find them. He pushes aside encroaching tree limbs and swats slender yellow and red flowering plants from his face. The flowers smell familiar; the scent drags his mind to a place and time far removed from this one, but he keeps his feet on the path. Though he is now being guided by the crash of waves, he didn't initially set out with a destination in mind. He has questions. Maxwell’s inner compass, guided by the waves, tells him he’ll find answers on the beach.

The wooded area ends abruptly and Maxwell's feet sink into a sea of fluffy yellow sand. The warm grains soothe Maxwell's soles. He wiggles his toes while he drinks in the sight of the deep blue water. The sky is of the same dark blue as the ocean, but angry clouds on the horizon announce a storm.

The ocean is calm, still, shimmering gold in the places where it reflects the sun.

Again, the smell of the flowers surrounds Maxwell, despite the fact that he left all the flowers behind on the footpath. The only vegetation on the beach is a single coconut tree where Maxwell decides to sit. While he's under the tree, the sea changes color, from the dark, concealing blue to a near-transparent cerulean.

The sky is unchanged; the smell intensifies.

"Hell and Heaven. You'll never experience one without the other."

Maxwell spins, sending sand flying around him. His mouth falls open when he sees the woman exiting the path. She's dressed in a thin white gown that dances about her plump frame even though the air is still.

"I have missed you," she says.

"Am I dreaming?"

"If you want to consider this a dream, you can."

"But is it a dream?"

"Only if you think it is."

"I could never get a straight answer out of you." Maxwell turns to the sea. "It has to be...How else could you be here?"

"If you want it to be a dream, Max, it is a dream."

"I wish I knew where you were." Maxwell faces the woman in white again. "We didn't communicate much...you know...in the end. But I wish I knew...if you're safe...or..."

"I am fine. I am safe as long as I remain protected."

"More riddles." Maxwell sighs and shakes his head. "And this is only a dream."

"Dream. Reality. Alive. Dead...they are only words. Words attempting to describe relative concepts."

Maxwell admires his mother’s face. It isn't the face he remembers last seeing. This one is missing the lines and creases that had been drawn by the many small hells she’d endured. This face is the smooth, dark flesh he remembers from his youth, but the hair, the hair is as he last saw it: silver strands in an afro about her head which moves with the phantom wind that moves her dress.

"Tell me, Max," Patricia says, "have you ever had a vivid dream then experience all the details days, weeks, or even years later?"

Maxwell nods.

"So was it a dream or reality?"

Maxwell has had enough of Patricia's riddles, so he doesn't even attempt to answer. Instead, he says, "This place reminds me so much of you. Now I'm dreaming about you. I haven't dreamt about you in years."

Patricia's face transforms into the one Maxwell remembers seeing on his last day home; a gaunt, strained shell filled with pain.

Maxwell inspects the mini dunes at his feet. The words he's uttered were meant to hurt. He meant to hurt his mother, to transfer some of the anguish he's been carrying, to her. Though he'd sworn to himself after Patricia disappeared, that if he ever got the opportunity to see her again, he’d do it right. He vowed to make amends for the pain he'd caused, to try to understand his mother - even her riddles. He can't even keep his promise in a dream.

"Mom..." The word sounds strange, feels strange on his lips.

"She is quite beautiful," Patricia says.

"What? Who?"

Patricia points to an area of sand below the coconut tree.

Maxwell fishes the shiny object from the loose grains, rotates it on his index finger.

"She did not say yes."

"Where...where is she?" Tears stream down Maxwell's cheeks. "Where are they?"

"I cannot tell you that. But I thought it was important for you to know that she did not say yes."

"Did Brian get mad? Did he do something to her?"

"No, Max, I cannot stay like this much longer. I wanted you to know before you find it."

Maxwell grabs his mother's hand; she feels the way she had always felt...too warm to the touch. "Tell....tell me where they are...Where she is!"

"Max, I can't. It is for your own safety. You are covered and I tried protecting the others, but I am not sure if it has worked."

"What?"

"Stay in The tilla. And stay close to the old woman. I must go."

Maxwell squeezes his mother's hand. He can't let her go. She has the answers he needs and, what's more, he didn't realize how bereft he was until he touched her. Dream or not, he wants to hold on to her for as long as he can. But Patricia leaves as she’d arrived, with no trace, besides the smell of her favourite perfume on the air. Maxwell dissolves into a puddle in the sand, sobbing and rocking uncontrollably. When he sobers, quiets his tears, he's on his knees on the footpath to the beach with the caretaker, Adam, and Jess staring down at him.

"What? What happened?"

"You tell us," Adam says.

Jess feels his forehead. "You fainted, then you started crying."

"How long was I out?"

"Less than a minute." Jess checks her phone. "I timed it...in case we needed to go to the hospital."

"If this place even has a hospital," Adam says.

"He Is fine," the caretaker adds. "We should get to the beach."

"You don't know -"

The caretaker holds up two fingers, cutting Jess' statement short."How many fingers?"

"I'm fine."

Adam offers Maxwell a hand; Maxwell takes it. Swatting away the familiar sight and smell of the flowers, he struggles to his feet. Head still light, he pauses, blinks, trying to steady himself.

"Maybe you should sit," Jess offers.

"I'm good. We should head to the beach."

***

Maxwell stops suddenly when he reaches the end of the footpath. He suspected, but he couldn't be sure until he saw it.

"Maxwell? Are you okay? Adam, maybe we should take him back."

Maxwell hears the concern that thickens Jess' tone; He can almost smell her worry, but he's more concerned about the dread, tightening a knot in his stomach. The beach is as it was in his dream, the warm grains of sand, the deep blue water, the solitary coconut tree. Maxwell walks over to the coconut tree and retrieves the engagement ring, just as he had in his dream.

"It's hers," he says to Jess. "Well, it was supposed to be. It's Brian's."

"Are you sure? Maybe someone -"

"It's his. I couldn't forget it if I tried."

"But it can't be." Jess' eyes are wet with tears. "So where are they?" She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

Adam reaches a hand around Jess, tries to pull her in; she shrinks from his touch, moves closer to Maxwell and the ring.

Maxwell hands it over.

"Someone took them." She holds the ring up to Maxwell's eyes. "But why didn't they take this too?"

Unable to speak due to the ache of unshed tears constricting his throat, Maxwell shrugs.

"That ring could buy many meals," the caretaker chimes in. "Or a few acres of Water Island."

"Let's get the cops before we start jumping to conclusions," Adam says.

"They will not help you," the caretaker says.

"What do you mean?" Adam's voice is louder than Maxwell has ever heard it. "Isn't it their job to investigate? Solve crimes?!"

"You have no idea -"

Adam charges at the caretaker. "Maxwell is right! Maybe you had something to do with their disappearance."

Maxwell's arms are around Adam, pulling him back. He isn't sure why he isn't the one trying to beat answers out of the shifty caretaker. Or is she? Since Maxwell's "not-dream," he finds himself wanting to trust the old woman.