Neighbors and Best Friends

I am visiting my parents. I find 5 little girls outside with no one watching them. They are around 2 years old and have linked their arms. They seem more like dolls than real children. A few of them are missing their shorts. I am very concerned. My parents tell me that their sitter is next door, spending the afternoon with the man who lives there. She’s done this before. I am appalled and indignant. Against the advice of my parents I take the girls next door. The man answers the door, and I tell him that these children are his girlfriend’s job, a job she needs to take care of. He invites me inside, but instinctively I refuse. He seems charming enough. He smiles at me and reaches for a shotgun. I begin running for my parents’ house as he casually loads the gun. I dive for my parents’ front porch as he shoots at me. He misses. I tell my dad to call 911. He hesitates but does what I ask.

I am at a job where I work in a cubicle. Some friends and coworkers come by to talk excitedly about the vacation we have coming this week. I knew it was a long weekend, but it turns out to be an entire week. We talk about finding cheap, last minute flights to places far away from there. I find an odd little airline offering round trip tickets to the East Coast for $300. I trip is strange. The plane is quite small, and the pilot comes back to chat with us a few times. As we approach the Rocky Mountains, one woman is panicked, pointing out to the pilot that we aren’t flying high enough to clear the peaks. He laughs at her and says his plane can’t go that high, he’s got to swerve around them. The woman looks like she may be sick. He tells her he’s just kidding and goes back to the cockpit to adjust our altitude. We land on some small, island airport, what I imagine Martha’s Vineyard must be like. My friend P has sent a car to pick me up to take me to her house. She’s busy with something and won’t be home until later, but her husband is there. I’ve never met him before so it’s a little weird. My son is with me, but he seems to be more of dog than a child. I clean up, get ready, and wait for P to get home. We’ll go get our other friend V at the airport together. Her flight, from another part of the country, lands much later. When P gets home I hug her and weep.