Chapter 5: Dreams, Nightmares, and Sven

“Violet, look alive,” said Sylvia, tossing the cigarette butt onto the ground. “Our table’s ready.”
Violet struggled to steady herself. She looked up and saw a neon sign indicating that she’d arrived at Red Lobster. But for some reason, she couldn’t help but think of Sven. Was there something she needed to recall? She decided it was nothing.
“Have I mentioned,” said Sylvia, opening the door for Violet, “that Red Lobster is my favorite restaurant?”
“Countless times,” Violet responded, walking toward the hostess with the eager grin on her face.
“I’m a fan of the wood-grilled shrimp,” said Sylvia. “I’m a seafood nut.” The word “seafood” made Violet feel unsteady for a brief moment.
“Your table’s ready,” said the hostess with enthusiasm. “Follow me, and I’ll seat you.” Violet noticed her nametag and saw that her name was Phyllis.
“Certainly, Phyllis,” said Violet. She immediately couldn’t believe she’d said it.
Phyllis seated the pair in the back portion of the restaurant. At the table to their left was a disappointed child at her eighth birthday party, and at the table to their right was a teenage girl crying with her father.
“I thought we might find you a man here,” said Sylvia, studying the beverage menu.
“I’m not sure I need a man right now.”
“Why not?” cried Sylvia. “Loosen up a bit, Violet. You’re at Red Lobster, for crying out loud.”
Violet nodded. “So how long does it normally take for a waiter to come take our drink order?”
“I’m usually impressed by how speedy the waiters are,” Sylvia answered. “They’ve never let me down in the past.”
Violet craned her neck and looked over at the girl at the birthday party. She’d asked for books for her birthday, but her mother had given her only clothes – a striped sweater, a pair of tube socks, and a tutu to make ballet class possible. Her mother had decided that books weren’t feminine enough for her daughter.
“Violet, what would you like to drink?” asked Sylvia. Violet turned and saw the waiter, whose name was Dartagnion according to his nametag.
“I’ll have a margarita,” said Violet after quickly perusing the beverage menu.
“That’s right,” Sylvia said. “You need a margarita. You need to calm down. You’re always so worked up about something.”
“Sorry, Sylvia.”
Sylvia laughed. “Don’t apologize to me! Apologize to yourself. You’re holding yourself back.”
“Am not.”
“Are too,” said Sylvia, watching the waiter as he walked away.
Violet frowned. “Sylvia, he’s a little young for you.”
“He has to be eighteen,” Sylvia said. “And that’s enough for me.”
“Not for me. I…have standards.”
“Is that right?” asked Sylvia. “You’re single because you have high standards?”
“More or less,” said Violet, peering over at the teenage girl to her right. Her father had been yelling at her about her refusal to take life seriously. Or something like that, anyway. She’d told him that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the career path she wanted to take. She’d told him that she was passionate about her potential career. She’d told him that passion was what really mattered. He’d said no, and she just hadn’t been able to hold it in any longer.
“He’s too old for you,” said Sylvia, smiling.
“Shut up.”
Sylvia turned her head. “I’m just trying to get you to laugh, Violet. You need something to make you laugh.”
“Crap,” said Dartagnion, who was approaching their table. He’d spilled one of the margaritas, and it seemed to make a gurgling noise as it dripped onto the floor. “Can someone clean this up?”
“On second thought,” said Sylvia, “he doesn’t seem mature enough for me.”
“I see. You’re clearly much more refined than he is.”
“Is that sarcasm, Violet?” asked Sylvia. “See what I mean? You’re too uptight.”
“And how, pray tell, do you suggest I remedy that?” asked Violet.
“Find some romance,” responded Sylvia. “Just like I’ve been telling you for the past half-hour.”
“And that’ll make me loose?”
Sylvia shook her head. “No. It will make you happy. It’s good to be happy.”
Violet looked to her left and her right. “I’m not saying I don’t want to be happy, Sylvia, it’s just…”
“What? Still mourning?”
“No,” said Violet firmly. “I just…I like having my independence.”
“You don’t have to be tied down to one man!” said Sylvia. “That’s the beauty of it.”
Violet coughed. “I hardly think I qualify as one of those kinds of women.”
“Violet, I’ve had it with you,” Sylvia said. “You’re stressing me out. I’m going to need a smoke break.”
“When will you ever quit smoking?” asked Violet, looking up at Sylvia as she stood.
“When you stop being a damn stick-in-the-mud,” Sylvia replied. She pushed in her chair, walked past the fish tank, and exited the restaurant.
Violet sat and read over her menu. She was trying to choose between the Admiral’s Feast, which included shrimp, scallops, and clam strips, and the Seaside Shrimp Trio, which included shrimp of three varieties. Sylvia was right about one thing, and that was that the wood-grilled shrimp looked to be simply marvelous. Then again, the scallops and clam strips looked rather appetizing as well…but then the question was whether Violet wanted to eat a lot of shrimp – of three varieties, of course – or shrimp in addition to clams and scallops.
“Violet.”
Violet looked up. Sven was standing behind the chair on the other side of the table.
“What do you want?” she asked, rapping her fingers on the menu to make herself look busy and important.
Sven repeated her name. “Violet.”
“Yes, that’s very cute,” said Violet. “But shouldn’t you be firing protons or something like that?”
“Violet, can you hear me?”
“Of course I can hear you,” Violet responded. “The better question is can you hear me? Or are you even listening? I don’t know why you’ve always felt you have the right to act this way. You’re no better than anyone else. Yes, we get it. You like science. Who…”
“Violet, please wake up,” said Sven.
Violet laughed. “Sven, why don’t you just leave? I’m obviously awake. I’m waiting on Sylvia to come back inside. She’s on a smoke break. I stressed her out.”
“Violet!” Sven reached across the table and slapped her.
Violet saw nothing but black, no matter where she looked.
“It’s alright,” she could hear Sven saying. “We’re not under the water anymore. Assuming, of course, that was water…”
Violet slowly opened her eyes and saw Sven’s face directly above hers.
“This…this isn’t Red Lobster…”
“No, it isn’t,” said Sven, “but I’ve been listening to you babble about it for the past fifteen minutes.”
“You didn’t wake me up?”
“I’ve been trying, obviously,” said Sven.
Violet looked around. They were in the forest, but the tidal wave had cleared, and they didn’t appear to be in any danger at the moment.
“The wave receded,” Sven explained. “As far as I can tell, it’s cyclical. I refuse to believe it sensed our presence and acted to capture us.”
“Isn’t that inside-the-box thinking?” asked Violet, pulling herself up.
“How dare you.” Sven turned away from Violet to look toward the coast. “I’m a scientist. I never think inside the box.”
“But refusing to believe something outright? Quite unlike you.”
Sven raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever encountered conscious waves before?”
“No,” said Violet, “but I’ve never seen someone impaled by a park bench who lived to tell the tale.”
“Hmm,” said Sven. “I suppose your reasoning is sound.”
Above them the foreign creatures that resembled a “barrel of monkeys” were dancing through the treetops (or tree-bottoms), apparently aware of the direction they were headed.
Sven looked up at them when they chirped. “They seem to know what they’re doing. Perhaps we should follow them?”
“Your reasoning is sound,” said Violet. “Assuming, of course, that you want to get out of the forest.”
“Well, the stranger on the coast told us there was a clearing inside the treeline,” said Sven, stroking his chin. “And that’s apparently where we are supposed to be heading. You know, since we’d like to escape the vortex that we’ve been absorbed into.”
“Is ‘absorbed’ really the right word for that?”
“The process of entering the vortexes hasn’t had much scientific documentation, for obvious reasons,” replied Sven. “So, as a scientist, I’m declaring ‘absorbed’ the proper word in this context.”
Violet finally was standing, fully awake. “And you have the authority to do that?”
“Well, I’m knowledgeable in the matter. It felt like we were absorbed. Wouldn’t you say so?”
Violet looked up at the foreign creatures, which had paused nearly directly above the siblings. “I suppose. So what’s your scientific explanation for those?”
Sven glanced upward. “You know, I still am not certain. Bearing in mind that this is for all intents and purposes an alternate reality…”
“For all intents and purposes?”
Sven eyed his sister. “Well, can a scientist ever be certain? Anyway, I’d like to say I have a definite answer, but I just don’t at this point. All I’ve got is speculation.”
“Let’s just follow them,” said Violet. The round creatures started moving through the treetops.
Sven nodded. “You’re right, of course. All the best scientists are willing to take chances. And clearly I’m meant to be a great scientist.”
“Clearly,” Violet murmured. She wondered if Sylvia had gotten back from her smoke break yet. And had Dartagnion ever brought another margarita? At this point, she thought she needed as many margaritas she could have.