Chapter 8 - -CHAPTER 5.5: A SMALL CHAT-

Hector had a long drive. Multiple stops at gas stations, but at last, he had reached Sterlington, at his son's house. Hector sighed, "One small chat with them about my grandson…" He got out of the car and walked to the door. He was both paranoid and sad. Hector gently knocked on the door and waited for them to answer. The door opened, and it was his son, Tim's dad. "Papá?" Tim's dad said. Tim's dad's eyes were filled with tears, still grieving about his son. "What are you doing here?" Tim's dad asked, but Hector came inside the house without saying anything. "Luis, mi Hijo, I am all the way here because of what happened." Hector sat on the couch in the living room, and so did Luis. Then, Luis asked, "About what?" "Who else, Luis? Your hijo, of course!" Hector answered, "They're telling me that Tim ran away because of his little fantasy?" "Sí, papá," Luis answered, "Tim ran away because of that." Hector rubbed his own face. He felt like his head was pounding, and each thump made his head feel much more painful. Luis then asked, "¿Por qué?" "Well, from his journal, he talked about life hurting him. But, I still don't understand… why would he not tell me?" Luis said. "He might've thought you'll think that he's insane," Hector answered, "I wouldn't believe it either, and I still don't. Did he kill himself?!" Luis shook his head instantly, "No, No, Papá. He didn't kill himself. He knew it was risky." Hector sighed in relief but asked, "Someone kidnapped him?" "NO!" Luis groaned, "He wanted to live inside dreams, but that's not even possible. Dreams last for like.. One night." Hector exhaled, his shoulders now less tense. If Tim didn't get kidnapped or kill himself. Then, what happened to him? When he heard what Luis said, Hector held out a finger and replied, "Hijo, with God, anything is possible. But, in this case? No, that must be mankind, hijo. Or worse, the cartel." Hector had feared the cartel when he lived in Nicaragua as an adult. Luis exhaled and told Hector, "Papá, don't go crazy, the cartel isn't here." Hector glared at Luis and talked back, "Sí, but their drugs are. Hijo, these damn naive adults and kids will believe in anything, anytime, anywhere. The black market, haven't you heard that? In Nicaragua, I've seen drugs that can one-shot you, claim that they can 'help' you. Then, blam!" Hector clapped his hands, "Into their graves, they go." Luis rubbed his face and sighed, "Pa-" "No," Hector interrupted him, "You know what… I heard he has a journal. Why didn't he tell me about it?" Luis waited and then answered, "Because it's his journal, his feelings. But, if you want it-" Hector interrupted again, "Sí, show me." Luis stood up, walked to Tim's room, and came back. "Here, if you want to know so much." Luis gave Hector Tim's journal. Hector rustled through the pages, reading each page. The pages, Hector thought, showed Tim's insanity behind the shadows. "Is your hijo insane?!" Hector yelled. "Live in dreams?! That's damn worse than the war I had to go through. He'll lose his mind!" Luis nodded calmly but tensed, "That's exactly what I was thinking." Hector slammed the journal on the couch. "And, he talked about dream pills! I knew it, he fell for a trick! EVERYONE HERE IS INSANE! This is Strelington for God's sake, not New Orleans!" Hector yelled once again. "Papá, drugs can happen in even the smallest towns, not just major cities." Hector shook his head as if he had a headache. Hector couldn't believe it. He has the most insane grandson known to mankind, probably behind Cain, the first murderer in history. "Anyways, where's my daughter-in-law?" "Oh, she's still awake. It's just… not the time right now for her," Luis replied. "Why do you always jump to conclusions every time something goes wrong?" Hector looked at Luis again and answered, "Because most of the time I do that, and then I turn out to be correct." Hector looked at the floor, his head pounding with pain. He looked back at Luis and demanded, "Luis, necesitouncafé. I already have a damn headache about this." Luis understood that pain. He would be having a headache too. Luis then agreed, "Sí, papá." Luis went to the kitchen to make the coffee while Hector sat there thinking about Tim and his headache. Hector had a thought, and he couldn't hold it in. "Luis," Hector called out, "Call me loco, but do you think Tim has a new life?" Luis was a bit struck by that question. He imagines Tim with his new life. He's probably relaxing in a fancy mansion or maybe with his new parents. No, Tim would never do that. Why would he? "No, having an entire restart on your life in dreams is impossible. How can he eat, sleep, and learn inside dreams? That's insane," Luis answered. Luis returns to the living room with two mugs of coffee, each with French vanilla creamer, and sets them on the coffee table. Hector grabbed the mug of coffee and took a sip. That sip made him feel less tense now. The warm coffee soothes his throat. "Ah… You know, Luis. I think I'll be staying here in Sterlington until Tim is found," Hector told Luis. Luis almost choked on his coffee, hearing that. "Qué? Who's gonna watch your cabin?!" Luis asked, but Hector scoffed in annoyance, "Mí amigo, Thomas, of course." This is just getting more chaotic by the second. First, Tim is gone, and now Hector is going to stay here until Tim comes back, even if it means Hector will have to be on his deathbed to see Tim coming back. How much messier can this situation get? Luis then sighed, "Okay… but you're going to use Tim's room." Hector stood up and slowly walked to Tim's room. "Hopefully, your hijo knows how to clean his own room," Hector exclaimed, bringing his good cup of coffee with him. The door to Tim's room shut when he entered. Luis stared at the floor and said to himself, "Life..? In dreams? Maybe that is possible."