These Dreams of You

~ ~ ~

Zan knows he’s seen this structure. Out of it pours into the foreground of the photo a wide boulevard dotted with passers-by, one of whom, at the image’s forefront, is a woman disappearing off to the side of the photo. Though she’s slightly blurred, Parker says, “It’s Viv!”

Zan nods. “It does look like her.”

“But who’s taking the photo?” says Parker.

Zan says nothing, brooding over the image.

“Is that Ethiopia?” asks Parker. “Those people don’t look like Ethiopians.” He means they’re white.

“It’s not Ethiopia. I’ve seen this.” He points at the photo. “I don’t mean just pictures of it.”

“It’s London!” Parker exclaims. “Didn’t we see this the first or second day here, when we went to that über-creepy place below ground that wasn’t below ground and then that other creepy place they cut off the heads? Mom is here in London!”

In Zan, a flash of exhilaration wars with confusion, and loses. “We know it’s from Viv?” he says. He shakes his head trying to make sense of it when it hits him. “That’s not London,” he says, “that’s the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin.”

Zan collapses onto the bed. On his back he stares at the ceiling. “Where’s Berlin?” says Parker.

“Germany,” says Zan.

“Germany’s its own country, right?”

“Yes.”

“Why’s Mom there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why would she post a photo?”

“I…well, she’s a photographer. . ”

“Dad!”

“I don’t know.”

“If she’s not in Ethiopia, why doesn’t she call? Why doesn’t she—?”

“Stop, Parker,” the father says, covering his face with his hands.