
Dreaming a Reality
By Lisa M. Cronkhite
Eternal PressA division of Damnation Books, LLC.P.O. Box 3931Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998
Dreaming a Realityby Lisa M. Cronkhite
Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-310-2
Print ISBN: 978-1-61572-311-9
Cover art by: Dawné DominiqueEdited by: Pamela Hopkins
Copyedited by: Carrie Richardson-Orosz
Copyright 2011 Lisa M. Cronkhite
Printed in the United States of AmericaWorldwide Electronic & Digital Rights1st North American and UK Print Rights
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
I owe thanks to many people who have encouraged me through my roughest of times. First off my husband, who has been there for me through more than half my life, inspiring me to move forward. I'd like to thank my children Jake and Abigail for helping me survive this world and making every day of my life worth while.
Thanks to all my circle of friends who have helped and motivated me all these years, one of whom I hold very dear to my heart Margot Brown. Thanks to all of Critical Poet. I would also like to thank my editor and publisher for giving me this great opportunity. Most of all I would like to thank my mother, Susan for being there for me every step of the way.
Fresh-cut blades of grass sliced between my bare toes. It was there in the darkness that I began to run after the girl in a game of chase. Her eyes traveled to the dusky rays of light peeking through the evergreen sky deep in the forest brush.
She was running after the green shadow that flickered against the leaves, so I followed. My pounding heart echoed off the trees. What or who might be hidden just beyond the brook? Gasping for breath in the dense foliage, I began to sink into the soil. Grabbing fistfuls of dirt in the palms of my hands, I felt a pulse in the veins of a leaf. The shadow and the girl vanished in the forest, and I was alone, feeling hollow in the earth. The veins in the leaves were my veins---my pulse. I was the weeping willow. I was fighting for my life, struggling to breathe as the soil surrounded me. Then I awoke.
That dream again. It had been like this every night now for the past few months. 2:27 a.m. glowed on my bedside clock. Earlier than ever. Whatever this dream was about, it sure was messing with my sleep cycle.
My heart was still racing, so I climbed out of bed, too electrified with adrenaline to think of getting back to sleep. I started out on what had become my nightly ritual.
My first stop was the front room to check on Jeremy. His oversized, seventeen-year-old body lay sprawled along the couch as usual, deep in sleep. He hadn't been sleeping in his bedroom lately, and I wondered what bothered him so. The couch had become his bed now as the T.V. flickered, lighting up the room. Just looking at him sleep made me envy him, he looked so peaceful. Man, how he'd grown. I could remember when he was little---when John was still around.
"We gotta get him into hockey, Kat," John would say.
At three years old, that's just what we did. Now heading for a scholarship to Lake Superior State University, Jeremy kept hockey an important life-goal. I was proud of him---extremely proud. He had every trophy imaginable from first place to MVP.
After glancing at Jeremy, I went to check the locks. Front door, back door and then to see all the windows on the main floor were shut. I felt compelled to be safe.
Back in the kitchen, I rummaged through my purse for cigarettes, unlocked the door and stepped outside. Under the night sky embedded with stars, I lit my cig. Watching the puff of smoke travel upward, I caught a glimpse of the moon, full and bright. The house was dark and quiet inside---only the flicker of light from the T.V. screen in the front room indicated any sign of life.
It had just turned September and was still warm enough here in Ashland, Wisconsin to be wearing cotton pajama bottoms and one of Jeremy's old hockey jerseys. Across the patio, the forest called to me, just like in the dream. I could almost make out the figure of the girl flitting between the trees. What was she trying to tell me? Who was she?
A cold darkness passed through my skin like an opened screen window, as if someone was pulling me to the other side. For a moment, the fear paralyzed me. I couldn't move, and then the light from inside the house snapped like the shutter of a camera, shocking me back to reality.
I returned inside to the flashes of the T.V. and headed upstairs to the computer room to check for any new messages that might have arrived since eleven o'clock last night, the time I had actually fallen asleep.
Five new messages popped up in my inbox. One from Mr. Ming, my boss, bore the heading: Status update for Mr. Jorgan's flight to Cancun? Some were from other customers. The last was from John Harris, the subject line in bold capitals shouting: Please Read. Just seeing my ex-husband's name got my heart all jittery, like a silly schoolgirl-crush on a boy that just slipped me a love-note in class.
Shifting in my computer chair, I willed myself to relax. I wasn't ready to open John's e-mail yet. I couldn't open it. I didn't have the heart or the energy to hear what he had to say. Every e-mail since our divorce had been crucially important. Even though we were separated, he still cared about me, alerting me about my behavior. Other than Jeremy, this was the only connection I had with him. It was all I could hold on to.
I opened the window to let in a soft breeze and yearned for another cigarette, but I was trying to cut back, and stuck to my self-imposed rule against smoking in the house.
I surfed the net with blurry eyes---answering e-mails, viewing other travel sites. I had to find all the best hotels for my clients, especially Mr. Jorgan. I took breaks here and there to read poetry too; anything to keep busy, to push aside John's e-mail.
Still it sat there, daring me to open it. Talking to someone might get it off my mind, I thought to myself.
My best friend Jenny had introduced me to a dating site. I signed in, and immediately an I. M. popped up.
DD1969: Hello there, how are you?
I usually deleted the generic types like, "How r u?" For some reason, I replied to the ones that were better written, so I decided to reply to this one.
KWtravel: I'm fine and you?
DD1969: Well, I can't sleep tonight, so I'm here.
KW: Oh, funny thing, I can't either.
DD: Haha...
KW: Yeah, big joke.
DD: So does restless have a name?
KW: It's Katherine, but everyone just calls me Kat.
DD: Kat, like meow, that's sexy!
KW: Yeah how original.
KW: So, your name? Let me guess, D for Dog?
DD: Haha...no, actually, it's Dean---Dean Dawson.
DD: But you can call me Big Dog! LOL
KW: Wow...that's different!
Dean and I messaged each other for what seemed like ages. We just clicked. I didn't even realize what the time was until I looked at the clock. 5:03 a.m. I couldn't believe how late it was, but because I really liked Dean, we continued to exchange messages. I thought of how nice he was and how titillating the conversation. We seemed to have a lot in common; both of us had a mental illness---me being bipolar and him clinically depressed―yet both of us had a unique take on life, sharing the bonds of a good sense of humor and being divorced.
I was surprised at how much time had flown by, and it was refreshing to get my mind off things for a while. Yet John's e-mail still sat there, mocking me. After flirting with Big Dog, I finally felt brave enough to open it.
Message: Kat, we need to talk! It's urgent.
"Oh, God," I whispered underneath my breath. My mind hung on the word urgent as if it was about to jump out from the screen and bite me, as if someone was watching my every move.
I walked away from the computer desk as my thoughts began to switch back to the past couple of days. I worried about Jeremy. Was there something wrong with him? Was he the urgency? Why leave an e-mail and not call right away, or was this about me and my behavior? So many questions loomed through my mind in a spiraling motion, I began to feel dizzy. Pull it together, Kat.
I noticed the time and realized I had to wake Jeremy for school.
I ran to the bathroom and popped a couple of Tegretols to try to calm my nerves. Even though they might have been the reason for my queasiness, I took them anyway.
I could hear Jeremy stirring already from downstairs. So much for sleep---it was time to start the day. John and his urgent talk would just have to wait.
"Wake up, buddy boy, it's six thirty," I said after lightly slapping him on the cheek two or three times, then heading into the kitchen. I started making him breakfast as he wrestled around on the couch, got up and then went for his shower.
My kitchen was adjacent to the living room area. I loved the creamy earth tones and the airy feel to the room, and the ivy green trim on the curtains completed the look.
"Want me to make you a lunch, or do you need money?" I said to Jeremy as he came in the kitchen and pulled out a cereal bowl.
"No, Ma, I have some from yesterday." He was a frugal kid and had saved the birthday and holiday money he'd received over the years from family and friends. His grandparents, however, had been out of the mix after hearing their youngest daughter had a mental illness. My mother was the source of grudge and isolation and, unfortunately, Jeremy suffered the brunt of it by no longer having a relationship with his grandparents. It used to bother him when he was younger, but as the years passed, he grew a detached heart toward them. His one aunt seemed to feel the same way as my parents did, yet my middle brother Todd wanted to continue some form of connection by having an open mind to it all and still managed to stick around.
"Did you do your homework?" I asked, shuffling around in the kitchen.
"Ma, come on! You ask me that every day, and every day it is the same answer." Jeremy had a look of detest as he scooped a spoonful of cornflakes into his mouth.
"I'm just making sure, Jer."
I finished making some scrambled eggs and bacon for Jeremy, always a hearty eater. I placed his plate on the table---the one John hand carved. It was his first solid piece before Jeremy was born.
A little on edge from the memory of John's e-mail, I was ready for Jeremy to go to school. I pondered over whether to call after he'd gone, but decided instead to wait until the right time.
"Make sure you have a good day, honey!" I kissed him on the cheek.
"You too, Mom."
After Jeremy stepped out, I decided to get some housework done and push John's urgent message aside---yet again.
As morning sun glistened on the green lawns, I peeked out the window to watch the changing trees shed their leaves. Autumn was well on its way.
My grey tabby pawed from inside the glass, trying to catch a leaf or two. It was quiet in the house as I scurried to get it clean. I always liked it fresh and orderly, so much so that some might even consider me a neat-freak. Finally, at noon, I slipped back an e-mail message to John: We're okay, no worries.
I grabbed my iPod and zipped out to take a walk, refusing to wait for another concerned message from him. I still had feelings for John, as he knew full well, but during our marriage, he couldn't take my "extreme mood swings", as he put it. John drank in excess for years, yet sobered up quickly after he and Jeremy witnessed my countless bipolar episodes.
As I walked, I let my shoes crunch the dead leaves beneath me and thought of the last dream I had of the girl. I looked into the clear blue sky and inhaled the air's sweet scent of the coming fall, my thoughts flooded with John. I couldn't believe I missed him so much. Why was he so concerned for me? He has Natalie to worry about, not me.
I finished my brisk walk, listening to Madonna, and returned home. I checked on more e-mails---no John, not yet, but there were quite a few from customers and another one from my boss, Mr. Ming. I had been working as a travel agent for the past six years. Mr. Ming knew all about my illness and worked with me on it, because I was considered a valued employee. I took in several bookings a week and was paid a decent amount on commission alone, but I often blew my job off and nonchalantly replied back. My expressive ups and downs carried with me, yet the customers had a definite liking for my great customer service skills---Mr. Jorgan especially.
I was always an outgoing kind of person, but often had to remain somewhat timid with Mr. Jorgan. In the past, he'd made some advances, but I continued a working relationship with him. He was a married businessman and always went through me to book anything he needed―for business and for pleasure.
My cell phone rang at 3.30 p.m.
"Hello. Katherine Wheeler here. May I help you?"
"Hey, Kat," a rugged voice replied. "You can help me all right!"
"Oh, hello, Mr. Jorgan, how are you today?"
"I told you to call me Mitch," he said, reminding me yet again.
"Okay, Mitch, I made reservations at the Ritz-Carlton, right along the beach with an oceanfront view---just like you requested." I kept trying to be professional about the conversation but could hear in his voice he wanted to be more intimate.
"You know that trip was for us."
"Mr. Jorgan, please!" I said, feeling the hairs rise on the nape of my neck.
"Please call me Mitch," he insisted again.
"Mitch, the flight is booked for a Mr. and Mrs. Jorgan. The airline will need to check ID. What you're inferring is impossible." At that point I was getting upset, feeling slightly uncomfortable, but remained firm with him.
"Kat, when will you give me another chance?" He kept sneaking around my mind to see how far he could go.
"I don't know how many times I have to go over it with you, Mitch. I am not interested. I can just as easily give your package to Mr. Ming to take care of."
"Okay, Kat. You got me. Just give me any new updates on the flight status and maybe some more pictures of this hotel. Mrs. Jorgan will have a fit if there isn't a spa."
"Oh, there is a spa, and of course there are conference rooms for your meetings." I reverted back to a more appropriate tone.
"Good," he said with a sigh of relief that I was still interested in working with him.
I wrapped up the phone call in an abrupt manner after noticing it was almost time for Jeremy to come home. "Okay, Mitch, you're all set. Have a good day."
After getting off the phone, I went to my desk to catch up any loose e-mails that might have come in. I usually ended work around five o' clock, the time Jeremy would come in after hockey practice, complaining of wanting something to eat.
I found it strange John never called or e-mailed back and in a way was disappointed. His e-mail sounded so urgent. I should have never blown him off.
Jeremy came in through the back door of the house with a loaded book-bag.
"Yo, Ma, I'm home," he called out, stepping into the kitchen. I quickly sent my last e-mail and went to greet him.
"Hey, hon. Wow. Got more books?"
"No. More homework," Jeremy grumbled as he walked passed me and into his bedroom to set his book-bag down.
I started an early dinner―pot roast with carrots and red potatoes, one of Jeremy's favorites. As I placed everything on the counter, slicing the onions thin so they would melt quickly, Jeremy asked, "Have you heard from Dad?"
"No, not yet. Why? What's up?" I walked to his doorway and stood there, wiping my hands on a washcloth.
"He promised me tickets for the Packers. Was just wonderin' if he got 'em or not," he said as he pulled out a text book from his bag.
"Well, your dad sounded kind of concerned when he e-mailed me last. Is everything okay with you?"
Jeremy paused for a moment with a pale look on his face. "Yeah, it's all good, Ma."
I went back to the kitchen to continue with the pot roast, yet wondered what was going through his mind.
I hadn't verbally talked with John in about a week or so and thought how he seemed so apprehensive in his e-mail message. In my own silly way, I considered that he might have needed me again---even needed to see me.
We met in our teens and were high-school sweethearts all the way through until senior year, when I had a miscarriage. At seventeen, I desperately wanted to try to become pregnant again. I remembered my mother taking me for my first ultrasound and the doctor taking her out of his office to discuss things away from me. I knew it couldn't be a good sign.
Although pregnancy wasn't planned in the beginning, after receiving the devastating blow of the miscarriage I wanted a child. John, two years older and finishing school before me, was just as stupid and in love as I was and agreed.
We got married after my second pregnancy at eighteen. We finally had our son when I gave birth to Jeremy a few months later.
The first few years of marriage seemed like a dream. John would work out as early as three in the morning---the time Jeremy would wake, wanting to be bottle fed. The routine was perfect. I went back to work at PETCO after maternity leave, while John worked on building a carpentry career. He was always good with his hands and when we first dated would carve out little wooden animals and give them to me. I was fond of whatever he did and very much in love with him.
As I thought of John, I could smell that the pot roast was almost done. Jeremy was in his bedroom reading when the telephone rang.
"Hello?"
"It's me. How are you, Kat?" said a sleek voice.
"John!" I said, happily surprised.
"Yeah, sorry I haven't called lately---been busy."
"That's okay, John. I got your e-mail," I said as I untangled myself from the telephone cord.
"Yeah, I've been meaning to talk with you about that. Jeremy tells me you're smoking a lot more and not sleeping as much. I hope you're taking that medication the doctor prescribed." John sounded vexed.
"Please, I can handle this, okay?" I felt a potentially heated discussion coming on.
I didn't want to get into it, and as John started questioning me a little more, my voice began to rise.
"Mom, is that Dad?" Jeremy called out from the back room.
"Yeah, here, you talk to him. I am done with his interrogation." I handed the phone over to Jeremy as I tried to finish up cleaning in the kitchen.
I didn't think it was just that. I questioned myself as to what else it could have been. What had Jeremy been saying to his dad?
Disappointed, but not surprised, I now knew what was up---me and my behavior.
I instantly had racing thoughts of how it all started. Trying to remember my changes, I thought back to about a month before, when sleep began to elude me. I knew by not taking my meds, I would become manic and might even have another episode, but I was sick of all the side effects and decided to stop, yet again. I knew I was playing with fire but did it anyway, hoping my nausea and stomach discomfort would go away. No one knew I'd stopped the meds, not even my doctor or therapist. I kept that hidden from everyone---that amongst other things.
Friday, and finally done with a full week of working and running back and forth to hockey for Jeremy, I was getting excited about the day.
Mr. Ming wanted me to check out the Drake Hotel in Chicago and evaluate it for potential clients. As he'd received two tickets from Southwest Airlines, complimentary of the hotel, I decided to ask my friend Jenny as she'd never been to the Windy City before. It was a good deal I got from my job, one of many I received.
Jenny and I had been friends since early grade school, and I remember when I first met her. A tall, lanky girl with curly brown hair, she'd been standing at the corner of my block. She'd asked me for directions after I nearly collided into her with my bike, yet Jenny didn't seem to mind; in fact, she laughed at my riding skills.
I decided, while preparing for the trip, to take my mood stabilizer again. I took it even though it caused some dizziness and stomach discomfort. At least it was helping me sleep a little better, and that was what mattered most at this moment, and after I'd spoken with John, I figured it was about due time to take my medication. I was still upset at his accusations, yet knew he was right. I didn't want to scare Jeremy any more than I had been lately.
While I packed a few of my dresses and make-up kit, I noticed a few e-mails had come in, so I sat down to read them. It was nice to receive another one from Dean, and I thought how refreshing it was to talk to him.
Although we'd only chatted a few times earlier in the week, I was interested and, after viewing his profile, increasingly intrigued. The picture he'd posted wasn't bad, so long as it was really him and not his good-looking younger brother, or him thirty years ago. His profile read: Just looking for a good friendship, which is difficult to find, let alone a romantic relationship. I am open to anything, as long as you are too.
I popped opened Dean's e-mail right away:
Dear Katherine,
Hello again! I just wanted to say I've been having a great time talking with you this past week. I know we only met online, during the night, when I couldn't sleep. That night I was glad I didn't get any rest. Hope to hear from you today. Can't wait to meet you. Take care and talk to you soon.
From your restless friend,
Dean
It just so happened Dean lived in Chicago, and he suggested meeting me somewhere downtown later that night. I agreed as long as he didn't mind meeting Jenny also. I did all the checking to make sure the dating site was secure, but I was still apprehensive about it. I mean, it's not every day you meet people on the computer. Well, unless you work with them---which reminded me of Mitch again.
I had seen Mitch's couple of e-mails and decided not to open them. I knew it would be the same thing---saying how we were together in the past and how great it was. Just because it happened once didn't mean that it would happen again. It would be different if Mitch wasn't married, but he was, and he wasn't about to leave his wife---not for me---not for anyone.
As I glanced at the clock, I realized I was running late. I was to meet Jenny at the airport in less than an hour and had called a cab to take me there.
The cab pulled up at a quarter to two as I hurried to stuff the rest of my clothes in my bags. I left a note for Jeremy; I wasn't worried about him since he'd already made arrangements to be with John, yet I felt bad leaving without saying good-bye. I reminded myself he was almost an adult now and could take care of himself.
I got in the cab after lobbing my luggage into the trunk. Once the driver pulled up to the airport drop-off center, I could see Jenny standing next to the Southwest Airlines sign.
"Hey, Jen," I said, waving as I got out.
"There you are," she yelled back, waving her arms too.
"Sorry I'm late."
"No problem, we still have time."
We rolled our bags through the luggage check and entered through the security doorway.
We arrived in Chicago a little after five. The short flight had been uneventful and everything was working out well. Nothing got lost, and we were still together. Last time we took a weekend getaway together, I lost my favorite suitcase and Jenny flipped out because she couldn't find me for hours, and that was all at the airport.
Chicago was amazing. The narrow skyscrapers outlined the city in pearly lights, and the busy streets were jammed with business people running to work and tourists taking snap-shots of the landmarks. We watched with gaping eyes as we travelled in the back of the cab. I could tell by Jenny's silence and open mouth she was really excited.
When we pulled up to the hotel, she smiled. "Wow, we're finally here. Can you believe it?"
"Yeah, this is great."
After getting out of the cab and spinning through the glass-doors, we headed for the reception desk and checked in.
"You're on the fifth floor, Miss Wheeler," the clerk said, handing me the card-keys and pointing to the elevator doors.
I was instantly pleased with the room and could feel the richness of the high-style furniture and ornate designs in the wallpaper. I was ecstatic to see the Italian-marble tub in the bathroom as I glided my fingers across the slick surface, and already knew I would give the hotel a rave review; even the view of the lake was inviting.
"I can't wait to take a bath in this," I said to Jenny.
The only thing I worried about was that the room was non-smoking, like they all were.
As we got settled in, I made arrangements to go to Navy Pier. I also scoped out the restaurants along Michigan Avenue for the meeting with Dean and found a little Italian place, the Spiaggia Restaurant, that I'd always wanted to try.
After a late afternoon on the Spirit, a Chicago lunch-cruise boat, Jenny and I returned to the hotel. I called Jeremy's cell to find out how he was doing but only got the voice-mail, so I left a message. He was famous for not answering, so I wasn't worried, but I still wanted to hear his voice.
"You can just go without me, you know you want to," Jenny said as she popped onto one of the queen-size beds.
"Oh, Jen, come on! I want you to come, you know you want to," I said, watching her smile a big grin.
"Yeah right, I'll pass. You guys have a good time. I'm wiped out from the boat trip. Besides, I have a bubble bath waiting for me."
"All right, I guess." I was a little relieved that Jenny didn't want to go on this Dean-date with me, but I was still hesitant to meet a perfect stranger online, face-to-face. As it was, we'd only met a week ago. I tried to not let my mind wonder too much about it, but I couldn't help it. I thought of Dean, of meeting him for the first time, of him turning out to look completely different to what I expected---tall, dark hair and with a sleek suit on. I could almost see a vision of him as I gazed out the window, but then realized I was thinking of Mitch.
"Kat, you okay?"
Jenny shook the Mitch vision out of my mind.
"Yeah, I'm okay," I said as I cleared my throat. "So, should I go with the black cocktail dress or the red silk one?" I picked up the two dresses lying on the bed and swung them side-by-side against my body.
"I would think the cocktail dress would be more appropriate, Kat." She looked at me as if I should have already known that.
"Yeah, you're right."
I went into the bathroom and changed, then arranged for the cab to come and get me. I noticed on my cell there was one missed call.
"The cab is here for you, Kat."
"Already?" I saw that the missed number was from the cab driver.
Once I got in the car, I called Dean to let him know I was on my way.
"Great, I'm here and waiting," he said.
"It's just gonna be me. Jenny decided to stay back."
"Good...are you okay with this?"
"Oh, yeah. Be there in fifteen minutes."
I was nervous going alone, but the reassurance in Dean's voice made me feel more at ease.
The cab driver pulled up to the restaurant a few minutes after ten. I was making good time as I got out, tipped the cabbie and tried to de-wrinkle my dress. I had my hair pinned up and could feel the breeze from the lakefront. It was a cool night, the sky was dark and clear with stars and the city was lit up like a string of pearls.
As I opened the door I could smell the fresh Italian bread sitting on the tables. The restaurant was dimly lit and quaint, with tiny lamps providing a soft rose hue. The patterned curtains were cut café style, and from across the room I could see a man waving. He was sitting at the bar, wearing a short-sleeved black shirt and jeans, with long blonde hair pinned back in a ponytail. I knew it was Dean instantly. He looked exactly like his profile, and he could clearly recognize me from mine.
"Wow, you look great!" he said as I walked toward him and reached over to kiss him on the cheek.
"You do too." I took a seat on one of the stools beside him.
I was always attracted to the long-haired, tattooed types. Dean had a wicked Chinese dragon crawling down one arm and a colorful cobra on the other, both elaborate in design.
He chatted away about some of his other tattoos that he mentioned he wanted to show me later. A chill ran down my spine at the thought.
We talked about everything including our jobs, the kids―Dean had a son a few years older than Jeremy―and how hard dating was. He went on to say he was between jobs.
"It was amazing I caught you that night," he said, signaling the bartender for another round.
"Caught me?"
"Well, you know. That we were both online at the same time."
"Yeah, it's not every day you meet someone online, in person." We talked over dinner for two hours or so, and he mentioned again about wanting to continue the evening at his house. Although it did sound tempting, I didn't want to seem easy on the first date.
"Maybe next time," I said, taking a last sip of my Cosmopolitan.
"Sure, that'd be great."
So when will I see you again?" he asked as we waited for my cab.
"Not sure. It depends."
"On?"
"Depends on if you want to or not," I replied, trying to tuck a loose strand of my hair back behind my ear.
"Oh, I want to---definitely...don't you?"
In a way I wanted to say no. Not that I didn't want to see him again, but something seemed off---either with me, or I sensed he was rushing things.
"Yeah, I do. We'll have to see."
Dean opened the car door like a gentlemen and kissed me on the cheek.
"Call me and let me know when you're back home."
After I rummaged in my purse to tip the cab driver, I noticed my I.D. was gone. It must have fallen out in the bathroom restaurant when I was looking for my phone. I hadn't noticed it missing till now. Strange it was just my I.D. and nothing else.
Once I got back to the hotel, I saw that Jenny was already asleep. I was excited about my first date with Dean and thought it went well. I wanted to gab away the night, but didn't want to wake Jen.
I wondered how Jeremy was doing. He'd called earlier while I was at the restaurant and left a short message that he was okay. I wanted desperately to tell him why I hadn't been sleeping very well, to tell him I was taking my meds and that everything would be okay, but I didn't really know that now, did I?
We were huddled together in a pitch-black closet. It was locked. I kept jiggling the handle and getting more and more frightened. I was only four at the time, and I think the girl was five.
"You have the key, Katherine," the girl whispered, cupping her hand softly to my ear. She startled me with her ice-cold hands.
Begging the little girl to open the door, and fearing we were trapped, I couldn't understand what she meant by that. I didn't have anything as I checked the pockets of my dress. I felt the palms of my hands begin to sweat and my heart race inside my chest. My eyes burned from the blackness and even though I was with the girl, I felt very alone and scared. It was almost as if she was a large doll.
"Open the door, Katherine, you have the key," she said again.
I stood up, reaching around in the dark, seeing only a slight crack of light from the floor. I began to twist the knob again, and it turned slowly. When the door opened, a blast of light came in, suddenly waking me.
When morning came, I gathered my things and started to pack my bags. My clothes lay strewn about the room along with my used bath-towels. It wasn't like me to have things in such a mess, and I could feel myself getting more and more agitated that things were in disarray.
Quickly, I pasted myself together for the flight home. Jenny was up and ready and waiting on me as usual. "Come on, Kat, or we'll miss our plane," she said as she stood there in the doorway, her bags already packed. "We never miss, don't worry. I have it," I said, trying to reassure her. When we were all set to go, and the cab arrived, Jenny asked about Dean.
"So, how was he?"
"Oh, very polite---a real gentleman. He said to call once I got home." I hesitated, remembering what he said about going back to his place. "Yeah, it went great."
I didn't want to tell her that I felt a little uneasy and rushed. It was weird that Dean felt so eager for me to join him at his house. I thought maybe we could extend the date by going to a club or something. I mean, all we did was have dinner. I didn't want to jump to any negative conclusions, so I tried to push aside my thoughts and enjoy the city one last time before I left. Whatever the case, I was glad I decided not to go back to Dean's.
"Do you have everything?" Jenny asked.
"Yeah." However, I didn't have everything; my I.D. was still missing.
We got back to Ashland, near the Lake Superior area, at around three in the afternoon, and I reminded myself how much I love living here. I've traveled all over the world, yet lived in Wisconsin all my life. My parents raised us Catholic and lately have been very religious, going to church practically every day. I suppose they are praying for my illness to go away, or have God take it and heal me.
I started to remember my childhood on the ride home. Jenny had fallen asleep, so all I could do was think. My thoughts drifted back to when I was a kid and the youngest, having to wear hand-me-down clothes, nothing like the clothes I wear now. Martha my oldest sister had everything new, and poor Todd my middle brother always got clothes from the thrift store---that meant being able to spend more on Martha. My parents, not very strict on Todd and me, were strict on Martha. It was always about her and what she was doing and who she was with. I'll never forget how I struggled in reading and the teacher offered them a special class for me to take, but they'd rather spend money on Martha's swimming lessons or tennis playing.
My thoughts drifted to John and how he saved me from all that. We met at fourteen and everything changed at that point. My parents didn't approve of him, but once I became pregnant they seemed to have some form of affection toward him. I thought they would get even more upset, but not them; in fact, they enjoyed being grandparents for the first time when Jeremy was born.
Now that I thought of it, they pretty much let me do whatever. I seemed to have no sense of direction at all. Jeremy changed all that for me.
I glanced over to Jenny, still sound asleep as we pulled up to her house. "Jen, wake up, girl. We're back." I shook her gently.
"Oh, wow, so soon?" she said, yawning. She got out, grabbed her bags from the trunk and headed up the driveway. "See you later, Kat. Call me."
"I will." I sat back and rolled the window down for a smoke. "It's okay?" I asked, signaling to the cab driver as I lifted up my cigarette.
"Sure."
I closed my eyes and reminisced about my younger years again. My senior year, when I had the miscarriage, I fell into a deep depression and became obsessed at getting pregnant again. I wanted a feeling of unconditional love so desperately.
I opened my eyes as we pulled up in the driveway. I tipped the driver a generous amount and was happy to be home.
I entered through the kitchen door around the back and realized how quiet it was without Jeremy being home. I hadn't spoken to him since leaving for the trip.
I ran into the bedroom to the answering machine.
"You have four new messages," voiced the machine.
I pressed the button and let the messages play, kicking off my shoes and changing into something more comfortable.
"Hey, Kat, Mr. Ming here. Let me know how things went. I hope you got some information about the hotel, too. Remember I said the Clarksons are interested in vacationing there."
The next two messages were from telemarketers, but the last one was from John.
"I wanted to let you know Jeremy is going to stay a little longer." His voice trailed off a little. "I also wanted to mention, I'm sorry for―" A beep cut off the message.
I was puzzled and upset as to why Jeremy hadn't mentioned this to me sooner and that John had called, not Jeremy himself. I tried Jeremy's cell again, but no answer.
"Sorry for what?" I said out loud. Sorry for hurting me? Sorry for taking Jeremy away? Why would he want to stay with his dad anyway? I knew Jeremy didn't like Natalie. Even though John's known Natalie for years, they've only been dating and living together for a few months.
I was crushed that Jeremy wanted to stay with him. So many thoughts entered my mind as to why he'd made the decision he had. Was he mad? Did he know I wasn't taking my meds?
I tried to push my worries aside as I made myself comfortable on the bed. It was late afternoon, and I had nothing planned, so I decided to veg out and watch T.V.
I was going to have lunch with Todd tomorrow, but was debating on whether or not to cancel. I had no intention of seeing my brother, especially since things were going south my end. I didn't want to complain to him and have it get back to my parents.
As I lay there watching the Learning Channel, I dozed off.
We were standing in the closet again, but this time we were adults. She was mad that I'd left her there. I could see her face---the same innocent look she always gave me.
"Why, Katherine?" she yelled.
I tried to loosen the girl's grip from around my wrists but couldn't shake it. Just as she let go, she slapped me, saying, "Wake up, Kat."
It was now 7:00 p.m. as I rolled out of bed. I went into the kitchen and stepped outside for a smoke. I felt as though the evening sky was calling me, with its light breeze and threat of rain---like it meant something.
I had to get my mind off everything, including the dreams, so I went back inside, grabbed my purse and headed to the video store for a movie.
When I got back home, I received a call from Todd.
"Hey, Kat, still on for tomorrow?"
"Sure Todd...I mean, I guess."
"What's wrong? Jeremy okay?"
"Jeremy's fine, Todd. He just wants to stay with John a little longer."
"Well, maybe that's a good idea," Todd said, pausing for a moment. "Hey, Kat, I have something important to tell you, but not over the phone."
"Sure, don't worry. I'll be fine. I won't cancel tomorrow. Is everything okay with you?"
"With me, yeah, but Mom...Well, like I said, I'll see you tomorrow."
I awoke to the alarm clock buzz. After looking at the time, I reminded myself of the lunch date with Todd. I couldn't believe I'd slept that long; it was 11:00 a.m., and I wasn't even ready yet.
I jumped in the shower and pasted myself together, enough to look decent. I still felt tired, but didn't want to disappoint Todd. I knew he had something really important to say, and I wasn't going to miss it.
I walked outside and headed to the car, thinking of the last words he'd said. The whole car ride I worried and felt like I would throw up any minute. I blamed my nervousness on my medication---and blamed myself for not taking them properly.
When I pulled up to the restaurant, I said a little prayer.
"Please, God, give me strength," I whispered softly as I scanned the parking lot to make sure no one was watching me. Even after several bipolar episodes, I never lost faith in God.
I met Todd at the glass doors with the steel "F" handles, and we were seated right away. He'd always been the sickly, skinny kid in school, but once he got into college he sprouted up to six feet six inches, luckily gaining some weight---enough to look healthy. He liked going to T.G.I. Friday's TM, and at this time it was never really busy.
"You can order the Jack Daniels steak and shrimp if you want, Kat. I just got paid," he said as he laid his napkin in his lap.
"That sounds good."
However, it didn't really, being that I was still queasy, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I knew how important it was that he'd treat.
After he deliberated on what to order, scanning the menu for a few minutes, he began to talk about our parents. "Mom's painting the walls again. She wants to have the apartment all in beige this time."
"She always did have a fetish for that, didn't she?" I wondered where this conversation was leading. I knew all this already and wanted to know the important things instead---the things he had to tell me face-to-face and not over the phone. "So when she's not painting the walls, or crawling on the walls, what is she doing?" I could feel the snipe remark coming right out of my mouth. I didn't want to say it, but it was like an automatic reaction.
"Oh, Kat, come on. She needs stuff to do too," Todd said in a frustrated tone.
"What happened to looking after Martha and her kids?"
"You know Martha doesn't like that, Kat. She has her own family to worry about and can only take so much of Mom's opinions and suggestions."
"No, Todd, I don't know. Neither Dad nor Mom speaks to me anymore, remember? How the hell would I know anything?"
"Defensive, just like you," Todd piped back, pointing his finger on the table. "Mom and Dad used to talk about you and your illness and of course your divorce too, but lately things have been quiet."
"Oh, yeah? Why is that?" I snapped back, raising the glass of water to my lips.
"Mom's sick..."
A silence came over both of us as the waiter put down our entrees. I'd ordered the steak and shrimp like Todd wanted me to, but looking at it now made me want to run to the bathroom. Knowing what Todd was about to say, made it worse.
"They found something in her stomach," he mumbled as he started cutting up his chicken.
"What do you mean, "something"?"
"A tumor."
Todd and I parted ways after lunch and said we'd call each other later on.
I got in my car and took a right turn to the grocery store to pick up some milk and dinner. After I dropped off the food at home, I decided to go to the mall and digest some of the conversation I'd had with Todd.
I thought of all the times I'd helped my mother and how she'd complain about her stomach problems---how I blew it over thinking it wasn't a big deal. Now look at her. She has a tumor, and it's cancerous. Todd told me all the details, but a lot of it went over my head. All I could think about was my frail mother, soon to die---my mother whom I haven't seen in almost a year.
"You need to see her." Todd's words right before we split ways rang in my ears.
See her? How could I see her when she hates me---when we haven't said a word to each other in forever?
As I walked into Kohl's department store, scanning the women's section, my phone buzzed---one missed call. I flipped it open to listen to the voice-message. "Mitch here, how are you, Kat? Miss you, babe. Hey listen, don't forget me. I want to see you soon. Later, Kitty." Mitch was a decent person, I suppose, but the marriage thing was a real killjoy, plus he had kids. When we first met, we were attracted to each other as if we were magnets. Mitch, being a dark-haired, robust man, hit it off with me from the get-go. I loved the way he made me laugh. He was just that kind of flamboyant person that everybody gravitated to. He carried himself well and was an excellent salesman; he could sell a deal to anyone about anything, and when he came into our office, before I started working from home, I was sold.
About a month after Mitch and I met, we spent the night together in New York. Back then, I didn't care that he was married. That was the time I was in my manic state and my mood swings were unmanageable. He didn't seem to care about my cocky behavior. In fact, he grooved on it, and said it made him hot for me.
Walking through the lingerie aisle made me think of the time I spent with Mitch. He loved it when I wore sexy teddies for him. I could just picture his wide, devilish grin as he sat there on the bed waiting for me. The sex was about the best I'd had since I divorced John. Although I didn't love Mitch, I loved how he made me feel.
After that year of sneaking around and traveling with him on his business trips, things seemed to fall apart. Something inside me changed. I didn't want to be the "other" woman anymore. There was a time I wanted him to leave his wife, a time when I thought I was in love, but I realized Mitch was only out for one thing---sex.
As I shopped aimlessly, my phone rang again. Jeremy's name lit up, so I picked it up right away.
"Mom?"
"Jeremy! How are you, honey?"
"I'm good. Gonna come home tomorrow. Is there any food you can make?"
Typical of Jeremy to ask if there was anything to eat; was that all he thought about? It was a good thing I'd gone food shopping.
"Yes, there's food. I missed you, buddy."
"I missed you too, Mom."
It was now a Thursday in October, and the leaves continued to change into crimson and coral orange. The lemon-yellow leaves intermingled with the swirling colors and lay littered on the sidewalks and curbs. The evergreens, pungent with pine scents, filled the cool, crisp air with the smell of fall. Today I had my therapist appointment, which I wasn't looking forward to, but I was looking forward to Jeremy coming home.
I promised myself I wouldn't cancel Dr. Mason's appointment as I'd done so many times before. I grew anxious to go, feeling the urge to talk again---to talk about everything. I wasn't going to leave anything out this time.
Jeremy was coming home in the evening, so I had a chance to prepare for my visit. I drove to the doctor's and entered the waiting room; this time it was filled with people. In the corner, a mother and son were reading a story book. There were three people in line, one making their next appointment, and a few others shuffling some papers.
Just as I sat down and opened my book to read, my name was called.
"Miss Wheeler? The doctor will see you now," the thin-framed nurse said.
I stepped into a cozy room of potted plants and plaques and took a seat on the russet-colored velvet couch.
Once the doctor stepped into the room, I began to pour out my emotional struggles about my mother and her illness, but that wasn't truly on my mind at the time; Jeremy and John were. I mentioned my difficulty sleeping, and that I was having dreams of the girl again.
"Okay, Katherine, tell me what's really going on with you." Dr. Mason knew I was skirting around the real issues. She was a young woman in her thirties, like me, with straight auburn hair and dark-rimmed glasses.
"Well, it's these weird, freakish dreams that have been haunting me for about a month before John first e-mailed his worries. I used to have these dreams years ago, but for some reason, they've been happening again."
In my mind, I kept reverting back to John. I thought there was a glimmer of hope---that we'd get back together somehow. "He gave me the impression he was really worried about me and thought I might not be taking my medication."
"Are you taking your meds, Katherine?"
I didn't want it to slip out that I wasn't, but it just happened. I needed this anyway. I needed to be honest.
"Yes, well---I stopped, and then started again---but only the Abilify. The Tegretols and Zanax gave me horrible headaches."
"You know, Katherine, you should advise this to your doctor. He is the only one to prescribe the right amount, what you should and shouldn't take. Do not under any circumstances self-medicate."
"I know you're right. I'll call him."
"Better yet, Katherine, make an appointment at the desk."
"Okay."
"Now tell me about these dreams."
"She was wandering through the forest---the girl. I've never seen her at this age before. She looked strikingly familiar, like she could have been my baby sister, with golden-blonde hair. In my last dream, she wore a white dress and looked about the age of eighteen. It was a cool summer day in the forest, but when she came to the lake, it was frozen over. She saw me watching from afar and gingerly started to walk across the ice, signaling for me to come. I glanced behind me and back again, and she was gone. My worst fear came true when I saw her underneath the sheet of ice. There was this patch of open ice and I ran to it, trying to save her. I panicked and started to walk to the thin patch, but the moment I stepped onto the ice, I fell through and woke up."
I went on to say I was having dreams of the girl dying in different ways---disappearing in different ways. I spoke softly and started to cry.
"Why do you think this is?" the doctor asked.
"Isn't that for you to know? Maybe it has something to do with John, and he worries about me. I don't know."
"Maybe it's the little girl inside of you, feeling trapped," the doctor added.
The session ended in a flash, like the very dream I had talked about. I felt relieved I'd lifted a lot off my chest, and that she finally knew I wasn't taking my meds correctly.
I took a half-day because of the doctor's appointment. I was eagerly thinking of seeing Jeremy again and wanted to make everything perfect for him. Once I got home, I started on the meatloaf, dicing up the onions and getting out the bacon. It was another one of Jeremy's favorites. After I finished preparing the meal, I put it in the fridge to solidify.
I caught up on some loose e-mails, sending one to Mr. Ming:
Mr. Ming, I have sent you the packages that are finished with their bookings. Can you confirm and file them, please?
Then I read the e-mail from Dean:
Wanna talk?
Apparently, he must have thought I was online at the time, so I prepared an e-mail back:
Hey, Dean,
Hope all is well. Sorry I missed you. A lot has been going on. I had a great time with you when we first met. You put me in good spirits, and that's what I needed. I'll try to get back to you later. Take care.
Katherine.
I didn't want to tell him about my mom just yet. After all, we'd only been talking for a short period of time, and I still felt like I had to hold back on some of the conversations. As it was, Dean had been having problems with his son Sean and with something else; what that was, I didn't know.
Soon after I pressed send to his e-mail, Dean's IM popped up.
DD: Are you on?
KW: Yeah sure, what's up?
DD: It's been a few days. Is everything okay with you?
I thought of telling him right then and there, but something changed my mind. I just wanted to keep the chat light.
KW: Yeah, things are fine. How are you and Sean?
DD: He got someone knocked up. The hell if I care how he is.
KW: Well, look at it this way. You'll be a pretty good-looking grandpa.
DD: Haha...yeah.
Dean and I chatted for about 30 minutes, exchanging a couple of laughs. He seemed to take on a better mood.
I worried about Dean just as I worried about all my friends. He too was fighting depression. After being clinically diagnosed, I knew what he was going through and guessed that's why we hit it off in the first place. That's just it. I thought of him as a friend and not a lover. It wasn't that I wasn't attracted to him; it was how he presented himself when I first saw him in Chicago. There was something missing, yet I wanted to hang on to the fact that he was the first decent person I'd dated in years. It was nice that Jenny recommended the site, and it was nice it was working out, but that was just it---it was nice...not wonderful.
Mitch was the only other person I'd been with since the divorce and just now, after three years of being single again, I figured I should start dating again.
I endured several hospital stays months after my marriage fell apart and couldn't date. That had been the last thing on my mind. All I could think of was finally getting out of the hospital. It would have been fourteen years of marriage, if that last dreadful summer hadn't happened, when I'd realized John had had enough. I went through years of depression beforehand and stopped taking my meds, after I was diagnosed, and then developed high anxiety.
While we were married, I changed my habits and lost a lot of weight---whittling down to only one hundred and fifteen pounds. I also started going out more and not telling John of my whereabouts. He was a heavy drinker from the start and was an only child, having been raised by his grandfather after his parents divorced.
I tried to straighten up the house before Jeremy's arrival and continued working, sending out e-mails, but I couldn't help thinking of John again.
I remembered when his parents got into that fatal car accident. He was in his twenties, and we'd only been married a couple of years. Instead of sobering up, he got worse and started developing reckless behavior, putting Jeremy and I through a lot of pain. His careless actions also put us in financial danger. Once, when Jeremy was little, and John was completely out of it, I left them alone, thinking they would be fine, but when I got home, I saw that Jeremy was standing over a drunken John. That's when my mom stepped in and helped out with the babysitting.
Back then I was waitressing and making good tips but couldn't handle all the bills. In my early years of marriage, I bounced around from job to job, trying to make ends meet. John worked sporadically with his carpentry, receiving only odd jobs here and there. It was a time when we really struggled to keep it together.
I went to the kitchen to put the meatloaf in and started up with the mashed potatoes. Finally I would see Jeremy after what seemed like a month since my trip with Jenny.
I wondered how John was doing, and how he was with Natalie. They'd been friends for years and it took me by surprise that she'd moved in with him. I was eager to hear what Jeremy had to say, but felt like I was eavesdropping on John's life, finding out through Jeremy. It didn't help that John never talked about it, that I had to learn everything from our son.
It was now around seven in the evening, and I had all my work done and the house neat and clean. The meatloaf was cooking, and the smell of bacon loomed through the house. I was ready for Jeremy to come home.
"Jeremy!" I shouted as he stepped in the front door.
"How are you?" I asked, embracing him by the doorway.
"I'm good. It smells great in here, Ma."
"Good. I'm making one of your favorites."
He took his coat off and headed to the bathroom. I went back into the kitchen to mash the potatoes one last time.
"So, how was your trip?" he asked as he entered the kitchen and sat down at the table.
"It was good. How was Dad's?"
I didn't want to tell him about Dean---not yet. I was more interested in him talking. I slipped on the oven mitt and placed the meatloaf on the stove.
"Dad's was good."
Just like Jeremy to answer in the same way.
"That's it?"
"That's it, Ma."
"Come on, Jer. You can tell me. Was Natalie there?"
"You know, Ma, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous." His stern look felt like a slap on the face.
I could feel my cheeks turning red as I cut up the meatloaf. Luckily, I had my back turned where Jeremy couldn't see.
"I'm just curious, Jeremy. I don't see anything wrong with that."
"Curiosity kills the cat."
"Har-dee-har, very funny. Now talk to me. What's up?"
"Well, you might want to sit down for this. I need to tell you something."
"What?"
My heart started beating quickly, and I felt nervous again. It came in waves, and right now I felt like this was a big one. What ball are you gonna drop on me now? I thought.
"They are getting married."
That night I wrestled around in bed thinking of just about everything, including my mom, whom I couldn't believe was so severely sick. Why hadn't they told me themselves? Why still carry this heavy animosity against me---this difficult grudge that we couldn't get past? I had the urge to see her again, to confide in her like I used to.
While I tossed and turned, my thoughts shifted to John. How in the world had this happened? Natalie of all people? I thought they were just friends. I knew they were close, but still. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I didn't want to wake Jeremy either, so I remained in bed. I tried to focus on calming my mind, counting how many times the ceiling fan clicked as it swirled around. My thoughts were on edge, spiraling around like the fan. I thought so much, I closed my eyes; that's when she appeared to me again.
We ran to an old abandoned farmhouse to go play inside. The house had chipped, pale-blue paint and a wooden porch. When we separated hands and split up, running throughout the house, the girl began to count softly. Once she reached twenty, she yelled out, "Ready or not, here I come." We were playing a game of hide-and-seek. She was to hide and I to go look for her, but it seemed like the opposite as I could feel her eyes watching me as I searched through the house. It grew dark and cold and the cool breeze drifted down the stairs as I began to walk up them. I could hear the floors creak as she ran through the house. Suddenly, there was silence and everything turned black. I was the one hiding, and the anticipation of being caught made my heart beat even faster. How could I have been the one looking, and then suddenly trapped in the darkness?
I felt around to see where I was---I was in a wooden box and lifted up the top to peek out and see where the girl was. She had reached the top of the stairs and turned to the railing to look down. Standing there quietly, she looked me straight in the face; she knew I was watching her. I smiled and waited patiently for her to come get me, but instead she turned to the railing near the balcony of the staircase. She looked up and counted how many times the ceiling fan turned, just as she was about to perch herself on the rail, then she proceeded to climb up and continue counting.
I got out of the chest and ran to her, but everything was in slow motion and I wasn't fast enough. Just as I got to the ledge, she jumped into a pit of grey smoke, and in that instant, she was gone.
The tic-tac-sized numbers on the digital clock read the same time as usual, 2:27 a.m. It was the very same time I'd woken up for over a month now. I tried to remember what the doctor said: "Maybe it's the little girl inside you, feeling trapped."
Dripping with sweat, I decided to get up, go splash some water on my face and do my rounds, but before I left the bathroom, I glanced in the mirror. My eyes were sunken and felt heavy. I was half asleep and half awake and hadn't realized how tired I looked until now.
"Why does this keep happening?" I asked myself in a quiet voice. Reverting back to what the doctor said, I thought maybe it was me in another life, trapped.
After being up a while, I went to the computer to see if Dean was on, but saw that his green online button was off. I then checked on my e-mail---another one from John. Why now? I thought. Didn't we just talk about this? What was he doing to me? He has his new life with Natalie now, for Christ's sake, and they're getting married. This time I didn't hesitate to open it. In fact, I felt compelled to reply to whatever he had to say:
Kat, I haven't seen you in months. We need to sit down and really talk. Not just about Jeremy, but about us.
"About us?" I laughed. There is no "us". My mind traveled to when there was an "us". John would grill his famous A1 burgers, while I sautéed onions. He loved cooking for us while Jeremy played in the yard. Back then, there was an "us".
After reading the e-mail, I didn't have the heart to reply. I was angry at what he had said, angry for including me in whatever he was thinking. How dare he? He's with who he wants to be with now. Why play with my mind again and make me think there is more to it than there really is? After so many arguments regarding the "whys" and "how-comes", I was now at the point of not caring, I was now at the point of becoming manic.
The next morning I decided to give John a call. After finishing my conversations with potential customers, I was now ready and had some time to talk to him. The answering machine picked up.
"John, I don't know what's up with you lately. I sincerely hope you're okay. I know it's hard to keep in contact, but we need to for Jeremy's sake." I ended the call and hung up.
I went into the kitchen to start some coffee, glancing at the table again---John's table. I thought of how he worked his way up from carving little wooden animals, when we were first dating, to his carpentry career now, and remembered when he was going to school and finally finished. It was something he always dreamed of. Lately, he seemed too busy during the day for e-mails and phone calls, yet he didn't hesitate to do so in the middle of the night. Was that when he knew I'd be on?
I walked back upstairs to the loft where the computer was and began sifting through my e-mails. There were several from Mr. Jorgan---Mitch. He'd been away on business in Cancun with his wife for the past few days, but the moment he came back into Wisconsin, he left message after message, including some on the phone. I listened in as they began to play:
"Kat, I really wish you'd give me that second chance we've been talking about. As for the Denver trip, that is to be scheduled for mid-December. Give me a call when you can. I miss my kitty."
I then proceeded to call his cell, leaving a message:
"Mr. Jorgan. Glad you made it back. I will need details for the Denver meetings so I can book them immediately. Please send an e-mail and provide me with this information. I will have printouts of the flight patterns as soon as I can."
Mr. Ming also called, but I knew there was no rush for that. Although I'd been feeling a little off here and there, I still had caught up with work.
No word from Dean, though, which was surprising. Usually he'd e-mail or IM every day, but this morning, nothing.
I gave Dean a call around lunchtime, but he didn't pick up, and I didn't leave a message. Thoughts of him ran negatively through my mind. We'd been talking for weeks, yet only saw each other that one time in Chicago. We were so hot and heavy in the beginning with our chatting, it seemed odd not to hear from him for a few days.
Feeling slightly sluggish, and confused about Dean, I decided to take a walk. I slipped on my socks and shoes and headed out through the back door, smelling the pine and fresh water in the air as I walked. I took the winding suburban road to the lake, noticing there were only a few people out this time of day. Just one car passed as I began to hike down the trail to the bridge.
There was a beautiful view of the rock quarries just beneath---a breathtaking glance hundreds of feet below. The moss-covered rocks glistened with moisture as the slight litter of bottles on the ground flickered in the light. You could see the tops of maples and the leaves from mulberry trees growing toward the light above. Greenery also grew in the cracks and crevices of the jagged rocks.
After getting to the bridge, I could see the lake peeking between the fir trees and couldn't help but think of the girl in my dreams---in the most recent one she stood near the edge of the railing. My thoughts were muffled and out of order, switching all over the place. First it was Dean, then back to the girl, then Jeremy and John. I also thought of my mom and how much pain she'd been going through. I started to feel dizzy to the point where I thought I would faint, and a nauseous feeling floated up into my chest and into my throat. I could feel knots forming in my stomach.
I became scared and felt like I could fall from the bridge, so I turned back to the house.
I made it home without having to vomit and remembered I needed to call the psychiatrist for an appointment, just like Dr. Mason advised. I had to tell him about my side effects.
I walked inside the house and tried to calm myself and collect my thoughts. I had an overwhelming amount of people I wanted to call; first my doctor and then Sally---my mother. After making an appointment, I picked up the phone and dialed her number.
"You have reached the Stefano residence. Please leave your name and number and we will get back to you as soon as possible."
Hearing the name Stefano jarred me. I would have kept my maiden name if I hadn't already made a name for myself with Wheeler. I was still married when I first started my travel-agent job and soon became a reputable person, so after the divorce, I kept it.
A few seconds passed after the message before the beep to record:
"Hello? It's me." I hesitated again. "I know it's been a long time, but I would like to see you guys, if I can." I left it at that and hung up.
Later in the day, I gathered my papers, documenting the Denver trip for Mitch in my datebook as a reminder, and filed them away. I kept all my paperwork organized and stored inside the drawers of my desk.
Jeremy was coming home soon, so I quickly wrapped things up with work and started preparing corned beef in the oven.
It had been hours since I called my mom and dad, and I figured they weren't going to reply. I had the urge to talk to someone, calling just about everyone, but no one seemed available. I even tried calling Dean to break the silence and left a message to call me back.
I was alone in my thoughts.
Jeremy came in about a quarter after four and went straight into his bedroom to sleep. He had a lot of time on his hands since hockey practice was over. Looking at him sleep made me think of John; they looked so alike with their sandy brown hair, thick with waves, and their hazel eyes. Even their stature was the same, tall at around six feet three and well built.
I wondered how John was and couldn't understand why he skirted around the issue---why he wasn't calling me back.
I called one person after another―no response.
After Jeremy and I finished dinner, he decided to go out to his friend's house.
"I'll be back later, Ma," he yelled as he opened the door.
"Okay. Call me and let me know what's up."
After he left, I cleaned up the kitchen and went back upstairs. That's when the phone rang. Finally someone called me back.
"Kat. It's Dean."
Relieved to hear his voice---anyone's voice for that matter―I began to wonder why he hadn't communicated with me in almost a week. "Is everything okay with you, Dean?"
"I was experiencing an anxiety attack at work and took a few days off."
"Oh, I'm glad you're all right now. I was beginning to worry."
"I'm sorry I made you worry like that. I didn't mean to."
"You know I'm always here for you, Dean."
"I know."
There was an odd silence, and I didn't know what to say. He cleared his throat and said, "Do you see me?"
Startled, I wasn't sure what he meant, so I looked out the front window. It was raining pretty hard against the glass, and I couldn't see very well. "Are you here? In town?" Another silence, then as I scanned outside again, there he was across the street, holding an umbrella, waving.
"Dean, you're here!" I wasn't sure what to make of it. I was excited to see him, yet it was a little unnerving to see him standing out front. How did he know where I lived?
"I came to see you. Can I visit?"
"Sure, you must be cold...and wet."
He snapped his cell phone shut and headed to the front door. I stood there waiting with the door opened, watching him run across the street.
"Hey," he said, kissing me on the cheek as he got to the porch.
"Come in, come in. You're all wet."
"Thanks."
He took off his jacket and sat down.
"Can I get you anything to drink?"
"Sure, what do you have?"
"All I have is water and Gatorade."
"I'll take water."
He looked around the front room. "Your place is nice."
"Thanks," I said, getting the bottle of water out of the fridge.
"Here, you'll probably be needing this," he said, getting up off the couch and walking toward me. He shuffled through his shirt pocket and handed me my I.D. card. It was as if he'd read my mind.
"How did you get this?" I gave him a puzzled look, trying to remember how I lost it in the first place, and then I remembered as the flash of being in the cab shot through my mind. I hadn't noticed it missing until that time.
"You must have dropped it before we left the restaurant---back in Chicago."
"Right, thanks." It was an awkward feeling. Why didn't he just mail it back to me, and why all of a sudden come visit me when we really hadn't been talking lately?
"So, how long are you staying?" I handed him the water bottle and perched myself on one of the kitchen stools.
"Not long. I have a flight tomorrow morning."
"Oh, you're not leaving till tomorrow?" I became increasingly uncomfortable after that. The thought of him wanting to stay the night crept through my mind. It wasn't that I didn't want him too, but I'd certainly not been expecting it.
"So, where are you staying?" I asked after a long pause.
"Just down the street. You know; that motel around the corner?"
"Oh, the Deluxe Hotel?"
"Yeah, that one."
He moved in close and started caressing the hair around my ear. I could feel the goose bumps travel up my arms.
"Kat, you're cold. Is something wrong?"
In my mind there was something wrong. Something didn't fit. "No, I'm okay."
"Here, let me rub your shoulders."
Dean turned around behind me and began to rub my shoulder line.
"You seem tense. Relax. It's just me."
I tried to relax while he was massaging me, but I couldn't help think what his intentions were. I mean, I'd only known him a few months, and this was just the second time of meeting. What was he thinking, coming all the way out here without telling me? The thought of it made me grow even more nervous.
"Listen, I appreciate it, Dean. I really do, but it's late. Jeremy's coming home soon."
"Oh, come on, babe. This won't hurt a bit."
He continued rubbing, a little harder and deeper each time, and lowered his face, brushing his lips up against my neck.
"Come on, I know you like it."
"Dean, stop."
He didn't stop. Instead, he wrapped his arms around my waist and started caressing my breasts. "Let's go to the bedroom," he whispered in my ear.
"Dean, stop!" I turned around and slapped him hard on the cheek. "Is this all you came here for?"
"You bitch! I came all the way here for this shit?"
He grabbed my arms and pulled me close as he started kissing me again. I tried wrestling out of his grip, but he was too strong. He dragged me to the bedroom.
"Dean, please! What are you doing?" I panicked and struggled to get out of his clasp. His arms were like steel bars around me.
Just as he was about to throw me on the bed, there was a jingling at the back door. Jeremy, I thought.
Dean suddenly let go as he pushed me down to the floor. "This isn't over," he said before he left through the bedroom window.
I got up and quickly closed the door. My clothes were torn and my hair was a mess. I didn't want Jeremy to see me this way, so I grabbed my robe, put it on and straightened up my hair.
"Ma, you home?" Jeremy called out from the other room.
"Yeah, I'm in here," I yelled through the door.
"I'm heading to bed."
"Oh, okay," I said, clearing my throat and catching my breath. I couldn't believe what just happened moments before. Why had Dean done such a thing? I wanted to call the police, but thought better of it. I was ashamed that it happened in the first place and didn't want Jeremy to know. What was I to do about Dean now?
Still in shock from the night before, I tried to rid myself of my worries.
Jeremy was out with a friend, and it was now mid-afternoon on Saturday. I didn't want to stay at home the entire day and wait on phone calls or any messages, nor did I want my mind to think about what had just happened.
I decided to drive to the library. I pulled up and got out of my car and ran straight inside, the sliding glass doors opening as a gust of warm air came rushing out.
I went to the non-fiction section and looked up books on Bipolar Disorder; firstly, to refresh my memory regarding the illness and, secondly, to see any new updates on the disease. I had to get my mind off Dean.
As I opened one of the books, I scanned the pages to see if anything caught my eye, which it did:
It is a chemical imbalance in the nervous system that fluctuates in metabolism and affects the mood.
"Bipolar" refers to the polar opposites of the brain, which has two physiological states---mania and depression. Such symptoms of the disorder include causes in hyper-sensitivity and high irritability, along with poor judgments and procrastination.
I knew all too well about poor judgment and continued to read on to see if I could find a crucial piece of evidence I might have missed:
Bipolar disorder can cause many physical health issues. Studies have shown heart problems in some cases. Due to the tragic events, sometimes transpiring with bipolar episodes, family members are often devastated by the lasting effects.
God. My mother---how could I have put her through so much?
I grabbed some books to check out and left. As I checked my cell phone, I noticed I'd received no calls since 12:30 p.m. Maybe that was a good thing.
"I must be losing it again," I said softly in the car as I drove past the house and had to circle back again.
I walked nervously up the driveway and into the yard. Smoking non-stop, I felt another possible episode building. I ran inside the house and popped a few Tegretols to calm down.
The minutes dragged, and it was hard to concentrate. Luckily Jeremy was still out, so I decided to take a nap.
I went into the bedroom after shutting off the computer upstairs, drew the shades and did in fact lie down. The breeze from the open window felt good and soothing and acted as a blanketing effect to comfort my feelings. I closed my eyes and began to cry profusely and that, in a way, felt good to me. I sensed a release and fell into a light dream.
The girl appeared in the room. She was praying near a man dripping dirt as his flesh clung to his bones. His hands bled a trail of rose petals as the girl started picking them up, like Gretel picking up bread crumbs. She followed him to the lake, where he walked across---above the water. The girl started swimming after him and began to drown in a pool of red. Although it was dark, and I couldn't see too well, I had to find out what was happening and to try to help the girl. As I knelt down beside sand and stone, I dipped my hands in the lake and felt a rushing sensation; it was like the water was warm oil. I looked down at my bloody hands and felt bloody tears run down my cheeks. My tears fell into the lake and then everything turned black. I realized I was alone again and woke up with a start.
The telephone rang just after I woke. I was able to reach for it and pick it up after the third ring.
"Katherine?"
"Hello?" I was still dazed from the nap and didn't recognize the voice. "Who is this?"
"Kat honey, it's John."
I didn't know why he was calling me "honey", but it felt good to hear it once again.
"John!" I said, startling myself.
"Sorry we've been missing each other lately. Is Jeremy around?"
I was a little hurt that he wanted to talk to Jeremy right away and not me first. "No, he's out with his friend Larry."
"Oh, okay. How are you?"
"I've been coping, and you?"
I wanted to say more but didn't want to get into it at the time. I wanted desperately to tell him what had happened with Dean, but became increasingly nervous at what he might think of me, so I didn't have the heart. "I miss you," I said blurting out the statement.
"I know, Kat." John's voice lowered, and then he paused.
"We don't have to get into anything right now, John. I know you're worried about me and Jeremy. Really, we're doing okay."
"Well, that wasn't just it. I wanted to talk to you about Natalie."
I knew what was coming, since I'd talked to Jeremy, but instead acted like I didn't know anything. "Oh, really? What is it? Everything okay?"
"Well, yes and no. She wants us to get married."
The thought of it caused a lump in my throat. I couldn't picture him with her, but for some odd reason I needed to hear more.
"I thought she was out of the picture. Didn't she want to break up with you?"
From what I could remember, their relationship was going nowhere. The last I'd heard, before the marriage proposal, Natalie wanted to move out.
"Well, we did. It's been a few months now."
"I thought she was there when Jeremy came to visit."
"So you did know then?"
I paused a moment, feeling a rushing sensation hit my face. I didn't want to seem like I was lying, so I kept at it that I didn't know. "No, I just assumed. Jeremy never said anything."
"Well, we've been discussing it and―"
Before John could finish, I interrupted him. "Why are you telling me all this?" His voice lowered again and began to break up a little. We had only been talking on the phone for a few minutes when another call came through. I didn't want to take it, but I saw it as a sign. Besides, I didn't want to hear any more depressing news. "I gotta go; there's another call."
"Kat, please wait!"
Suddenly my nervousness turned into anger. "Wait for what, John? For you to decide whether this is a good idea or not? I mean, come on. Look at your first marriage."
"I wanted to tell you how sorry I am."
"John, we all make mistakes. This might be another one. I gotta go."
I ended the call on that note and buzzed into the other caller. It was just a telemarketer, but I was glad to get off the phone with John. It sounded like he wanted my approval, and that I wasn't going to give. It was a slap in the face to hear of the engagement. "What is he thinking?" I mumbled to myself.
At that point I just wanted the weekend to end, so I could throw myself into my work and hopefully get a fresh start from there, but it was Saturday, my day off, which seemed to drag endlessly with bad news.
Later that evening, I relaxed to one of the library books and fell asleep---and into a deep sleep this time. So deep, I woke up eight hours later.
Days passed and no word on my mom. I grew deeply concerned, thinking she was still upset and that I wouldn't be able to see her, yet I didn't call because I didn't want to seem too eager and overbearing.
It was another bland day as it rained sheets of water against the windows. The neighborhood was cold and quiet, and the air beneath the gray sky was damp. I absorbed the melancholy mood and didn't do much at all. Every inch of my body felt completely drained. I just wanted peace---to be alone and not be bothered by anything or anyone.
Instead of answering my e-mails and catching up on work, I lay down on the couch and watched the rain. I thought of John and the proposal to Natalie, and then I thought of our proposal.
We were still in our teens at the time. He took me to the park where we first met, by the swings, propped me against the only maple tree standing inside the park and got down on one knee. He whispered those unforgettable words. "Will you marry me?"
Tears streamed down my face as I began to remember more and more. That year I became pregnant with Jeremy. After the miscarriage, John promised he would never leave me. All the promises he made in the past seemed a distant memory now.
I thought of how we first lived in a related-living apartment, downstairs from his grandfather Henry Ebbs. He was a good man who'd served his country and looked after his children. Better yet, he was good to me and John.
John's mother Marie was the youngest and the only girl, and a feisty one in her own right. She grew up in the seventies and was very much a flower-child, and she praised John in whatever he did. However, no doubt due to their poor living arrangements, and his dad's alcoholism, John's parents separated.
Marie, an untamed woman, had always been outspoken, yet never judged anyone. We got along like two best friends. She loved me, I knew she did.
A year before John and I started having our own marital problems, he received a call from the hospital stating his parents were in a horrible car accident. Apparently, John's dad Luke was in town that day helping Marie with errands---driving her around from place to place―but as always, Luke was drunk. What made it worse was that he was behind the wheel. They both died instantly.
After thinking of my past, the day was ruined, and I'd got nothing done. It was like I'd taken a day off.
When Jeremy got home from school, I told him to make something for himself. I just didn't feel up to doing anything at all, so I went upstairs and rested on the futon.
Later on, I made a point of calling Mitch about his Denver trip. Mitch, being a very well-to-do businessman, worked as a stockbroker and always wanted things his way.
I dialed the number, and he picked up right away.
"Hey, Kat, it's great to hear from you. How's my kitty doing?"
"Mitch," I said coyly, "we don't have time for that."
"Let's make time then."
"Mitch, I don't think that's such a good idea."
"Oh, do I hear another chance coming on?"
"I still feel uncomfortable that you're married. It never was a good idea in the first place." I shifted the phone to my other ear as I paced around the room.
"Kat, a couple of drinks won't hurt anyone."
Where did I hear that before? I instantly thought of Dean and our horrific encounter---how he whispered a similar phrase in my ear―but something inside me wanted to see Mitch again. For one, I was lonely, and for another, although I didn't like to admit it, Mitch made me feel good. I wanted to feel good again, so I agreed. "Okay, Mitch, but no strings attached."
"No, of course not. We'll just take it as it goes."
Later that evening we met up at Michael's restaurant for drinks.
Mitch waited in the parking lot inside his gray Chevrolet Corvette, as I walked to the front of the building. My nerves jittered about like ants crawling in my veins, yet on the outside I was calm and cool. I stood there, hair flapping in the wind like a blonde flag, wearing a tiny silk dress and pearl earrings, the ones Mitch gave me for my birthday last June. My dart-sized heels were beginning to bother me as I hadn't worn them in a while. As I lit up a cigarette, he walked toward me and kissed my cheek.
"Mitch," I said abruptly, giving him a half smile, as I flicked my smoke to the ground.
"Don't look so surprised, Kat. You haven't seen me since before the Cancun experience, let me tell you." He smiled back at me with tanned skin wrinkling around the sides of his mouth. "What a joke that was."
His dark-brown eyes stood out, and he sported a custom-made designer suit from Domenico Vacca, with glossy black leather shoes to match. It was just like Mitch to go over the top.
"You look amazing," he whispered in my ear, while holding me by the hand. I still felt unsettled about being touched after Dean's visit. I'd felt dirty when that happened, and it was a bitter reminder when Mitch reached for me. Although it was just light hand-holding, I flinched.
"Is everything okay? You seem jumpy." He looked at me with concern and even though he displayed an I-don't-give-a-shit attitude, I knew he still cared about me.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go in."
"With pleasure." He opened the door for me and let me go in first.
After walking in and getting seated right away, Mitch went on to say how miserable he was with his marriage. I just nodded my head in agreement, but inside I was thinking that the majority of the time my marriage had been solid; well, until our split.
"So, Katherine Wheeler, when are we going to hook up again?"
I blushed and said, "We are now."
"You know exactly what I mean." He looked me straight in the face and winked, holding up his glass of Chardonnay.
His words jumped out at me, catching me off guard. I tangled and weaved, whipping something up to say, yet all I said was, "I don't know."
I felt very apprehensive connecting with him again on that level and wanted to sway the conversation a different way, yet I couldn't find the words.
"Weekend getaway on my yacht, perhaps? Or maybe you can get us tickets from your job? You always know where all the hot spots are. Come on, Kat. What do you say?"
I just glared at him for a moment. I was still attracted to him, to be honest. Mitch never lost that flair, but I could feel the anxiety starting to wear on my face.
"Earth-to-Kat. Still with me?" he asked, smiling again.
I gave it a long thought. A weekend getaway would be nice. There was a peek of interest growing inside me. The rhythmic roar of the waves sounded really inviting, plus I wanted to get away for real---get away from all my problems. "I'll see what I can do, Mitch."
"Well, all right then." He raised his glass again. "To our getaway."
Tuesday night and the recurring dream of the girl happened again, but this time she was older.
She looked about thirteen or fourteen---same face, same medium-length blonde hair as mine. Her sky blue eyes lit up the room as she stood beside a bed holding hands with an old woman. The girl wore ripped-up jeans and an eighties T-shirt, and I noticed that in fact the time was set in the eighties as she had her bangs sprayed up high in the front. She was carrying a bump underneath her shirt, like she was a few months pregnant.
The old woman looked very ill, with a pale face and ghostly skin, and the bones of her hands protruded like the spokes of a bike wheel as she lay on the bed. The girl was crying and began to kneel beside the bed. I was within earshot and heard a little of their conversation. The old woman continued staring at the ceiling, not giving the girl any glances. It was almost as if she was already dead.
The two held hands for what seemed like forever as I stepped in closer from behind the curtain, trying desperately to hear what they were saying. Their speech grew softer and softer.
The old woman's face had an eerie familiarity to Marie, John's mother, yet she had my features as well. Her hair was braided in two side-by-side ropes of strawberry blonde pigtails, and she was gaunt. One thing that struck me was the penny sized tattoo of a rainbow with a tiny cloud underneath her left wrist.
As the girl was about to kiss the old woman good-bye, she turned around and locked gazes with me. Then I awoke.
A few days had gone by, and my dreams were becoming increasingly bothersome. I felt as though I needed to see the doctor or therapist again. The urge of wanting to talk was building inside me like layers of cement around my legs, and I felt myself being pushed over the edge of the lake at any moment and drowning like the girl in my dreams. I was self-medicating and couldn't stop. I was spiraling out of control.
After making an appointment weeks ago it was now time to see the doctor. I had made arrangements to take the day off and got to my appointment at 11:30 a.m.
When I pulled up to the office, my heart fluttered like moths to the light. My hands shook as I lit my cigarette, sucking it down with deep, inhaling drags. I felt the fluttering feeling continue as I stepped inside the elevator. As the doors closed, I shut my eyes and swallowed down my fear, or tried to at least. I was a bundle of nerves by the time I entered the office. This time it would be an hour and a half before my name was called.
I waited another twenty minutes or so for the doctor to finally walk in. My first thought was whether to say something about my meds. I attributed every bad thing happening to that, when I knew, in my heart, it wasn't---it was me.
"Hello, Katherine, how are you today?" Dr. Sandue asked. He was an Arabian man with curly gray hair and glasses, and he stood only five feet five inches or so. He was subdued and softly spoken. I didn't know why I was always nervous seeing him as he was a kind-natured soul and never criticized me for anything, yet I worried about being judged by him. After all, he was my doctor and knew everything regardless.
"I'm feeling a little on edge, Doctor."
"Tell me more, Katherine." Even though my nickname was Kat, he never called me that. He always pronounced my full name.
The palms of my hands began to sweat inside my clenched fists.
"You haven't been keeping up on your regular appointments, Katherine. I wondered how you were doing. It's lovely to see you again."
Dr. Sandue never pressured me to make my appointments, but always implied to stay on track. It was important I followed a regular routine.
I took a deep breath and laid it all out on the table, pouring out my feelings about my symptoms, and the side effects I had been experiencing. All the while, in the back of my mind, I debated telling him about Dean.
I shifted from one thing to the next. "I'm having these awful dreams, Doctor, and I'm not getting much sleep either. There are things, so many things, on my mind."
The doctor didn't say anything, he just let me continue.
"I'm not taking my medication as prescribed." That's where he stopped me.
"Katherine, you know it's most important to stay on your meds on a daily basis. You have to allow them to work correctly. They will have poor effect if not taken as prescribed."
"I know. It's just the side effects, Doc, and my headaches are getting worse. I have a lot on my mind, all the time. My thoughts keep spinning."
"Tell me more of what's going on, Katherine," he said, shifting in his seat and then writing something down in my file.
"Well, I haven't been super-out-of-control with my emotions. I've had bouts of crying periods, though. John is getting married again." I looked out the window and could feel the tears welling up again, but held them back, trying to focus on the visit. After a moment or so had passed, I looked back at the doctor and continued. "I just can't see them together." I told him about my mom too. "I've been so worried. I tried calling, but she hasn't responded. Not one call back. I can understand why she is ignoring me, Doctor. She's sick---cancer."
"Oh, Katherine, I am very sorry to hear that. Perhaps she isn't calling because she doesn't want to burden you. She knows you have an illness of your own. Please try to concentrate on that."
"Something else is bothering me too, Doctor."
"What is it, Katherine?"
"Well, there's this guy. I met him online."
I began to tell the doctor what happened and explained about Dean's visit. Although I left out how forceful he was, I inferred it. It was hard to talk about, and I felt myself begin to shake. I remembered Dean's last words to me: "This isn't over."
"Katherine, listen to me. You need to take your medication properly, and you must stay away from potentially dangerous people. You are like a vulnerable flower; you will wilt if someone doesn't pay attention to you. You can't let people like that enter into your life. Have you notified the police?"
"No." I stumbled on the word.
"I suggest you do so, Katherine. Protect yourself." Dr. Sandue scribbled on his notepad and ripped off the small note of prescriptions. "I am going to prescribe something new for you. The reason I prescribe the meds a certain way is for you to get better. Stay better. Stay healthy, Katherine."
"I know, Doctor. You're right. I will try to stay on track."
I left the doctor's office and thought long and hard about what he'd said. Should I report what happened to the police?
Thinking of the doctor's visit a little more, I filled my prescriptions at the drugstore just before I went home. The visit caused me to think about just what I was doing to Jeremy; he was probably telling John how off I'd been behaving. Jeremy knew I wasn't getting much sleep, and lately he wasn't sleeping much either. For the past few months, he'd been sleeping on the couch in the front room, like a watchdog. I continued to worry about what he was thinking of me and felt as though I'd lost touch with him somewhere along the lines. Even though I went to every game and picked him up from hockey, that wasn't enough. He was doing exceedingly well in school, so I didn't have to worry about that. Every now and then I would ask him if he had a girl on the side, but nothing was ever confirmed. He too seemed to keep things hidden, just like his mother. I guess his devotion to hockey and getting the scholarship to the University of Lake Superior College glazed over all that.
Once home, I raced upstairs to check on my e-mails. I was appalled. There were over thirty messages from Dean. I can't continue on with this sick charade, I thought. What in God's name have I done to deserve this? The e-mail subject lines included: Forgive me, and: You'll be sorry, bitch. Just reading them, I knew I was dealing with a very mentally ill man. I checked off each one and deleted them all and afterward felt somehow relieved they were gone---that I'd deleted him in some way and been strong enough not to read them. I wasn't about to enter inside his sick world, but in my heart I knew it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
When I looked at the time, I realized my meds were ready to be picked up. Just as I was about to head out the door, my cell phone rang.
"Hey, babycakes. Did you make our plans?"
"No, I haven't thought about that much, Mitch. I'm sorry."
"How about I give you a break and do the bookings myself. I will make the plans this time. Just leave it up to me. We could go on my yacht in the Bahamas. How's the end of November sound?"
"Mitch, that's less than a month away. I'll have to make sure Jeremy will be okay, and I'll have to let Mr. Ming know I'll be gone."
"I'm sure it won't be a problem, you're always traveling. It's your job, Kat. Besides, Jeremy is almost an adult. He'll be fine by himself. Who knows; maybe he'll even have a big party while you're gone?"
"Ha! Jeremy's not like that," I yelled out. "Don't say that."
"Oh, lighten up, Kat, he'll be fine."
I had mixed emotions about going on this supposed trip. I did want to get away―that feeling inside me never escaped my mind―but I didn't want Mitch thinking I was getting excited about it. The thought of an escape calmed my thoughts enough for me to agree.
"Okay, Mitch, you got me. Make the plans. I'll talk to my boss in the morning."
After I picked up my prescriptions at the drugstore, I headed back home. While I was in the car, I rummaged through my purse for another smoke.
Damn, my last one. I turned around to the nearest convenience store.
As I walked in, I noticed the same coffee-complexioned girl behind the register. She was new, having started there a few weeks before. Her lips were penciled with dark lip-liner, and her eyebrows had piercings. She slipped me my Newport Lights across the counter. The tattooed construction worker poured Columbian roast as the scent mingled in the air. I swiped my debit card through and glanced at the man's tattoos, and just as I did, a thought of Dean pierced through me like a first blood draw.
A paper-thin lady was standing near the magazines scratching rub-off tickets with her thumb-nail. She looked strikingly similar to the old woman in my dream, and I couldn't help but notice the heart-shaped liver spots on her hands and how her bones spread out like the spokes of the wheel―as in the dream. I remembered how much my parents liked playing the lotto.
I walked out and slipped into the car, holding my cigarette firmly between my fingers. As I lit up I watched the flame, slightly blue in tint, and thought of the girl again. I stared out the car window and no longer felt see-through anymore. Now I was clouded like the cigarette smoke itself.
I thought of the last time I spent at the hospital. It had been about a year and a half ago, in the summer, and I'd developed the same erratic behavior due to stress and anxiety about my financial issues. I was having difficulty with money problems from all the spending sprees and, again, I was off my meds.
That mid-July, Jeremy came home to a crazed mother. I was dancing in the yard, saying odd things like, "Shh, I'm talking to Grandma Marie." She'd been dead for several years.
Marie was always there for me. After I mentioned I was conversing with her, Jeremy immediately got scared and called John at work. His dad raced to my place, knowing full well I was having a manic episode again.
I continued to prance around the yard, singing melodies of songs I heard back when I was a child. I was talking in rhyme and uttering off-the-wall comments to Jeremy. "Your eyes are the skies---the big blue skies. I die and die and die in those pretty blue eyes."
Jeremy kept me contained in the yard, fearing I'd flee, which I'd done in the past. I went to swat at a bumble bee buzzing around the flower pots and then proceeded to pick the petals one-by-one, mumbling about wishes and dreams. He explained to me later that I had a look in my eyes like I was hollow, empty and someone else completely.
"Come on, you're going in, Mom," John said once he got there.
When we were married, he used to call me "Mom", as I would call him "Dad".
"Oh, please, Dad. Not now," I told him, glaring out into the sky again.
John told me later that I seemed to come down to earth a little after seeing him enter the yard.
"If you don't go willingly, I'll call the police and have them take you away again, Mom."
By then, I knew I was in deep trouble. John, dressed all in black from a meeting on a building project, was livid with me. He thought I'd been taking my meds and trusted me about it. He was blown away at what Jeremy had to witness.
I called him "Johnny Cash" that night. I didn't think I was manic.
After waiting in E.R. for two hours, the nurses gave me a gown and sat me in a room. That's when I knew I was staying. Although there are large parts of the event I don't remember, like when I usually have an episode, I do remember having to sit there for what seemed like forever before they finally admitted me.
At that point, I was extremely upset and wanted out. I became vicious and wild, pacing frantically around the room like an animal in a zoo cage. They'd locked me in. Once the doctor entered the room, he ordered for me to be strapped down onto the bed. I fought hard against the team of security guards and nurses that swarmed me. In my file, it read that I was chanting over and over, "God, help me. God, help me."
Two days later, I awoke in another room. This time it was the psychiatric unit, and I was in for a full week of observation.
I couldn't look at the hospital anymore, and after my third cigarette I started up the car and left the parking lot to go home. I felt so miserable at this point, drowning in my own sorrows.
It was now the middle of November with very little snow on the ground. It felt like freezing temperatures with the wind-chill factor, yet it was forty-five degrees outside. The waves along the lake sprayed up against the jagged rocks as the deciduous trees had already lost most of their foliage. The fallen leaves fluttered and blew in the wind, as I took my mid-morning walk. Evergreens with their fresh pine needles absorbed the fierce cold and angry breezes. I bundled up for the invigorating walk, and when I got to the lake, I jogged along the graveled shoreline. I stopped to pick up a small, smooth pebble and found a tarnished locket. I opened it, and inside was a picture of a man and woman, presumably married. My mind began to wander again to the dream I'd had last night.
The girl was in her late teens, standing with a man on a balcony, somewhere warm and full of palm trees. The sky had an ominous green hue and threatened to rain as the palms flapped back and forth. Ocean waves melted into the sand, soaking it in rhythmic motions.
She was truly beautiful with long, undulating hair waving in the tepid air. She was staring at the sea, holding tight to the railing, and the man stood behind her, molding his arms around her waist. She was fidgeting a little, trying to loosen his grip.
I stood inside the room watching as the man turned his head to rest alongside her back. The window blinds tap-danced against the glass doors, making a shuttering sound, while I continued to watch. I felt extremely uncomfortable as I stood there, like I was invading their privacy, yet I couldn't help but watch.
It wasn't until I stood closer that I got a better glance at the man. I couldn't believe it. I had to get in even closer to see if it was him. It was John. He was the one holding onto to the girl on the balcony. She gave me the impression that she wanted to escape.
As I stood there in the cold, thinking of my dream, I closed the locket and put it in my pocket. Surprised to find such a beautiful trinket along the beach, I looked around to see if anyone was there. For some reason, I thought I saw a dark figure standing behind the trees across the lake. When I saw the shadow move, I got scared and turned back, yet I dared myself to look back. As soon as I turned around, a flock of crows fluttered off the tree where the shadow stood---I must be losing it, I thought.
I came back home after walking around the neighborhood and near the lake for over two hours. I couldn't believe I was gone that long. More and more, I was losing track of time.
I made it a point once I got back to the house to call Mr. Ming.
"Do you have time for a meeting?"
"Sure, what time do you want to come in, Kat?"
"Well, I was hoping as soon as possible."
"Sure. I am just finishing up on the Johnson package. Come in when you are ready."
I hung up the phone and hopped in the shower. I hadn't been to the office in over a month, and since I'd started working from home, there wasn't much reason to go in. However, I wanted to see my boss face-to-face to tell him about the trip I'd be taking with Mitch, of course leaving the Mitch-part out. I thought it only fair since I hadn't seen Mr. Ming in a while. He'd been so good to me, and I respected him, as he did me.
I got myself together, dressing decently enough in black slacks and a white blouse, and was ready to head out.
I pulled up in the parking lot of the strip mall where Ming Travel was located, got out and walked to the entrance. The jingling of the bell startled him.
"Oh, hey, Kat. It got so quiet in here I was beginning to fall asleep. I'm the only one in the office right now. Please sit down."
He smiled after every word he spoke. He was a short Asian man with black hair and black-rimmed glasses. I always joked with him about his pin-striped shirts. That's all he'd ever wear.
I took a seat on the other side of his desk and told him right away why I was there.
"Mr. Ming, I need to take my vacation week early. I was hoping for the last day in November to the end of the first week in December. Is that okay?"
"Let me check the books. I don't think anyone's put in for those days, but let me see."
He pulled out the schedule book from inside his desk, opened it and sifted through the pages. As he pointed down the page with his index finger, he said, "Nope, looks like you'll be able to take that week off, Katherine."
"Great, I really appreciate it."
"Where are you going, if I may ask?"
Mr. Ming was always polite but tended to be on the nosey side. I guess from my history, he was concerned about me and my whereabouts, which I didn't mind, but I wasn't about to tell him about Mitch.
"The Bahamas with a friend," I told him, trying not to blush. I could feel my blood pressure rising. I didn't want to explain myself any more than I had to.
"Good. You can do a report on the hotel while you're out there. Where are you staying?"
"Atlantis."
"Wonderful. I will look forward to your review when you return."
"Thank you, Mr. Ming."
We got up off our chairs and shook hands.
It's settled, I thought as I walked back to my car. I just have to tell Jeremy and make sure he'll be okay. I made a mental note to tell him once I got home.
The weekend of hockey games passed, and it was now Monday morning. I was already swamped with phone calls and e-mails. Feeling a little better knowing I had the Bahamas trip to look forward to, even if it was just with Mitch, I still felt apprehensive.
I reminded myself about the discussion I had with him. It was about the same time that I last heard from John, and there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think of him. I wondered how he truly felt about Natalie. I pondered on whether or not to call or e-mail, but for what? What could I say that hadn't changed things already?
Why keep this charade up when we are not even married anymore? I didn't have any attachments with him other than Jeremy. It did seem like John wanted to say more, though I hadn't found out what the "more" was. Perhaps I was afraid to find out. Perhaps I didn't want to know. I was hurt from when we last spoke and had accumulated question after question, but mainly I was concerned about breaking my own heart again.
I went to wake Jeremy and tell him of my Bahamas plans. I always made certain he knew what was going on with me, even if I omitted who it was with; at least he'd know where I was at. To me and to Jeremy, that was the only important thing right now.
I went into the kitchen and, after he rolled off the couch, he followed me.
"Jeremy, after Thanksgiving I am going to the Bahamas with a friend."
"A friend? So who is it this time?"
"Oh, Jeremy, stop. It is just a friend, nothing more. His name is Mitch Jorgan."
"Oh, that guy? Doesn't he call your cell like a million times a day or somethin'?"
I was surprised he knew and felt the urge to say, 'What? Are you spying on me now?' I didn't. He had every reason to watch over me.
"It's fine, Jer, I don't want you to worry. I will give you and Dad numbers just in case of an emergency."
"Ya, it's fine, Ma, till...umm, he stalks your ass."
Instantly, I felt overheated. I was starting to worry and thought of Dean and that dark shadow in the woods. What if he's stalking me? Nothing was too threatening at this point since I hadn't heard from him in weeks. No e-mails, no calls, nothing. Maybe the worst was over.
"Jeremy! Don't say that," I said to him after pausing for a moment. "Besides, I don't like you swearing. You are too handsome for that."
"Sorry, Ma, I couldn't help it." He smiled.
Maybe I treated him like a child, as Mitch said. Whatever the case, I just wanted to be sure Jeremy knew.
My plans were to fly out the last day of the month, on a Monday. Mitch made sure to book it during the week to save money―even though he splurged on himself with his cars and suits and fine dining, he was a cheapskate about everything else.
"I'll be careful, I promise," I said to Jeremy, standing on my tip-toes to kiss his forehead.
After thinking about what Jeremy said, confirming the fact that Mitch was on the obsessive side, I began to think negatively about the trip. Not that anything bad was going to happen, but just where did Mitch want this relationship to go? After all, he did say he had a miserable marriage, but he didn't seem insecure about it or anything---like he could take it or leave it. It was just the fact that he was indeed married that bothered me. I didn't want to come across as the "other woman", but in all honesty, I was. I rationalized it up down and sideways and kept telling myself I wasn't the one cheating here. Then again, what if it was the other way around? How would I feel?
I started the dishes and laundry, pondering on the last thought I had of John.
He never actually cheated on me during our marriage, nor did I cheat on him, but my extreme jealousy and accusations of who he was with on his late night occurrences made me worry terribly. It was a big reason for our divorce.
I prepared a breakfast for Jeremy and myself of eggs-over-easy and wheat toast, and then pulled the clothes out of the dryer and started folding towels.
Jeremy sat down in front of the T.V. and flipped back and forth between the Weather Channel and E.S.P.N. I thought of prying into his life a little and even more so, to see what John was up to.
"So, champ, got any hot girls on the side?"
He laughed, practically choking on his toast. "No, Ma. Now will you quit it with the girl-thing. You know I don't have time for that."
"All right, all right. I'll leave that alone and trust you'll tell me when it does happen, okay, Jeremy Ryan? Got it?"
"God, Ma. Yeah, I got it. Geez."
"So have you spoken with your dad recently?"
"Ya, yesterday," he said just before he chugged a gulp of milk. "I told him I need money for a new stick."
I remembered first signing him up and how excited he was. He truly has come such a long way. John was proud, too, and sort of lived vicariously through his son. Skates alone were seventy dollars or more.
"Yes, the money. That's right. Can't forget that. So, anyway, how is Natalie? Is your father making any plans for the wedding? How is that going?"
"What's with all the questions, Ma?" Jeremy stared at me with a frustrated look.
"Well, I want to know, that's all. Your dad never says much to me anymore."
"As far as I know, everything's still on. Don't know the details, so don't ask. It sucks though."
"Why is that?"
"'Cause she's a bitch...and don't get mad at me for sayin' that word, but it fits her perfect."
That was the first time Jeremy had expressed his feelings toward Natalie and what was happening. I wanted to hear more, everything in fact, but I tried to play it easy. I didn't want to scare him off talking.
"Oh, I didn't know that."
Yet I did have some idea that he didn't like her. He'd given some hints of that in the past, but I assumed they got along. "So, how is she, really?"
"Well, for one, she is always telling me what to do, and I can tell I get on her nerves too. She's always sayin', 'If it wasn't for your dad.' Then she'll stop, and I'll say, 'What? You wouldn't be here?'" Jeremy paused and checked the time. "Ma, let's not get into this now. I gotta go."
"Gosh, sorry to bother you. I was just asking." I gave him a kiss after he cleaned up his plate. "See you later, buddy. Be careful." He headed out the door.
I went on to fold and put away clothes. I felt the urge to take another brisk walk but decided to check on my e-mail messages instead. I noticed from the little envelope on the screen that I'd received mail. There was one new message. The subject line read: Dying for you.
I didn't know who it was from, but opened it anyway. Something inside me wanted to read it. It was a new e-mail address that I wasn't familiar with, but the subject line made me think of John. What if it was him? I felt stronger this time and less bothered by the whole ordeal of Dean, so I opened it:
Dear Katherine,
I can't tell you how truly sorry I am for that time I came to visit. I don't know what came over me. I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to talk to me again, but I am dying to see you, or least talk to you. I called a few times, but you never picked up. Please talk to me. I miss you and desperately need to hear from you.
Still Restless,
D.
He didn't even put his full name down. What was he trying to prove? Was he insane or something? He'd practically raped me, and in my own home no less, but after reading it, in some weird way I felt sorry for him and did miss the old Dean---the Dean that used to keep me company during the middle of the night. Something inside me felt compelled to answer, but I wasn't quite sure whether to or not, or how. I knew that with his vulnerable frame of mind, he might become even more depressed and perhaps hurt himself or, worse, someone else. Right now I needed space and didn't think it was a good idea, so I held back from answering. Lately, his correspondence had seemed to die down. I didn't worry anymore, so why change that?
I was losing track of the days. I thought it was Wednesday, yet when I looked at the calendar, it was actually Thursday---a week before Thanksgiving. Todd had left a message on my cell to call him as soon as possible, and it sounded urgent. Again the lump in my throat started to rise. I was feeling nauseous.
It was around ten in the morning and I was getting some work done. The family that wanted to go to Orlando had requested more information on hotels in the area and wanted to know about all the deals. They squabbled over which one was better---Days Inn or the Comfort Suites―and wanted all the comparisons. The old couple's Carnival cruise was all set. I replied to more e-mails and responded to a few incoming calls, and all the while my heart pounded about the Todd call. I pulled myself together to hear what Todd had to say; it was now time, and I was ready...well, sort of.
I dialed his number, and he picked up on the second ring.
"Hi, Todd. It's me."
"Kat, I've been wanting to talk with you for days now. Are you getting my calls?"
"No, I didn't have anything on my cell. You know I check my messages all the time."
"I didn't call your cell. I called the house."
I walked over to the answering machine and saw that the light was still blinking. I'd been so preoccupied by the Bahamas trip and work that I hadn't noticed. I hadn't thought to check since all I usually received on the house line were telemarketers' calls.
"Sorry, I must have missed them. What's wrong?"
"Mom's really sick. The chemotherapy isn't working, Kat. She's in the hospital."
"Oh, God, this can't be happening."
My heart felt like lead in my chest. I hadn't spoken to her in so long I'd forgotten what her voice sounded like.
"You need to call Dad."
"I did call, Todd, but I never got a call back."
"Dad's been so busy at the hospital, maybe he didn't see the message. Besides, you know he doesn't know how to work the answering machine. You'd better go visit him. You need to see her before she..." Todd's voice trailed off.
"I know, Todd. I will. As soon as I get off the phone with you, I will call."
He didn't go into detail, but I knew now was the time to step it up. I would demand to see her even if she didn't want my visit. Ironically enough, they lived just eight blocks from me. They were so close, yet so far away.
After I got off the phone with Todd, I went outside for a smoke to try to calm my nerves, but I felt the panic rising. My upper lip began to sweat, and I thought about how my mom must be in so much pain right now. I thought of a lot of things.
One day, when I was young, I had walked home from school and was followed by two girls. They stopped me just before I could get over the tracks, and they jumped me. My mother was across on the other side walking our dog Buddy at the time, and she screamed and ran to me as fast as she could. As I heard my mom calling out, I tightened my fists and punched one of the girls as hard as I could. "Fight back, Katherine. Fight!" my mother shouted.
I was surprised, since she never condoned fighting, but when it came time, she knew I needed to---needed to fight for my life.
Now she needed to fight for her life, and I desperately wanted to see her.
I got in the car and drove to my parent's apartment. The closer I got, the worse I felt. My palms were soaked with nervous sweat; so much so, they slipped off the wheel, and I had to catch myself a few times.
I parked the car and got out, walking briskly to the glass doors. I was in the foyer when I glanced at the name on the mailbox chamber---Stefano. My eyes welled up with tears. "Please God," I whispered. "Help me to be strong."
Taking a few deep breaths and counting to ten, I buzzed the button to let my dad know I was there. Luckily, he was at home.
"Who is it?" he said over the speaker box.
"Katherine."
As the inner door made a long humming noise, I could feel it shake my bones. I started up the stairs to the third floor. My dad was waiting for me at the top of the landing.
"Katherine, it's so good to see you." He smiled and gave me a big bear hug.
The door of the apartment was open, and I could smell the fresh coat of paint Todd had talked about. Everything was clean and neat. My mother always kept it that way.
"How is she?" I asked abruptly.
"She is very ill, Katherine. She would like you to visit her." My father looked worn, with gray curly hair and a tired look on his face, like he hadn't slept in weeks. I was concerned about his health, too. I could see that this was taking a toll on him in so many ways. "Please, Kat. She needs you."
I only stayed a few minutes. I couldn't bear to see my dad so drained. Before I left, I agreed to go to St. Luke's and finally see my mother.
I was completely exhausted, mentally and physically. I could feel my body shutting down, wanting rest. Instead of running straight to the hospital, I turned the car around and headed home. I needed sleep---fast.
Once I got home, I sauntered to my bedroom and plopped on the bed. Within minutes, I was asleep.
She appeared emaciated this time and starving to death. Again at a teenage age, she walked to the lake. Coming up to the cliff's edge, she stood with her arms spread open, chanting over and over a mumble of words I couldn't understand. She wore a torn, white see-through dress, and the bones protruded out of her body. The cold chill in the air made it uncomfortable, and a funneling wind crawled beneath as I looked down to the jagged rock below. I had an eerie feeling she knew I was there. She raised her arms above her head and, cupping her hands, began to descend into a diving position; so slow and so graceful. I tried to run, but my legs felt cemented to the earth. I couldn't move, yet I felt like I was floating down with the girl.
I reached out for her as the sheer dress slipped through my fingers and, in that moment, I awoke.
After I circled around in the visitor's parking lot, I positioned the car in a tight spot on the second floor of the garage. I got out of the car and stood up, feeling lightheaded.
It took me over twenty minutes to get to the entrance. Even though I knew this area like the back of my hand, I felt lost. My mind continued to race as I came to the automated doors. They slid open, and a burst of warmth floated outside. You could see the heat once it hit the cold air.
"I'm here to see Sally Stefano, please," I said in a shaky voice to the elderly lady behind the desk.
"One moment, please," she responded right before she answered the phone. After she put the person on hold, she handed me a visitor sticker and directed me where to go.
"You can take the south elevator doors to the fourth floor."
The time in the elevator felt like forever. I was alone, staring at my own reflection through the black glass encasement. The light was a dim yellow and made me look scary. I was scared. Looking at myself, I wondered how my mother would appear after all these months.
I called Jeremy right before I left home and told him Grandma Sally was sick and in the hospital. He wasn't shocked about it. Somehow he already knew how ill she was. Even though the families hardly communicated, and Jeremy hadn't seen his grandmother in over a year, he still talked to Uncle Todd, just as I did. I knew in my heart my brother told him more---maybe even more than I knew.
After finally getting up to the fourth floor, I asked the nurses at the nurse's station where to go from there.
"Hi, how can I help you?" asked the thin-framed nurse with short red hair.
"I'm here to see Sally Stefano. What room is she in?"
"Room 227. It's just off to your right and down the hall."
227? I thought. Those numbers rang a bell, but I couldn't think of what. I couldn't think at all. Everything was bright---too bright. The walls were white and glossy, and the sterile smell was making me sick. I could hardly breathe.
Once I got up to the room, the door was open. I peeked in gingerly thinking she might be sleeping. I didn't want to disturb her. I couldn't be more nervous than I was right now, at this very moment.
I popped my head in just a little more, then finally just knocked on the door.
"Mom?"
At first, as I walked in, I couldn't see her. She was turned to the window on the other side of the room as she lay there in bed with the sheets up to her face.
"Mom, is that you?"
I wasn't sure. I had hoped maybe it wasn't. Only a bald head was peeking through the blankets. Then she turned around.
"Oh, Mom." I couldn't say much more. Tears streamed down my face as I stepped in for a closer look.
"Katherine," she said in a faint voice. "Is that really you?"
"Yes, it's me, Mom."
She looked gaunt and tired with half-moon circles under her eyes. She was very thin---too thin---with the exception of her stomach where the tumor had grown. Under the covers was her bloated belly, as if she was pregnant again.
"I'm here, Mom."
I moved in closer and grabbed her hand. Wires from all angles were hooked up to her.
"Are you sure you want to touch me? I bet you didn't think I'd be like this."
I could sense the tone of embarrassment. She'd lost all her hair and felt cold to the touch. It was hard seeing her like this, but she was still beautiful to me with those same ice-blue eyes and enchanting smile.
"I missed you, Mom."
"I missed you, Katherine."
She always called me by my full name. She never did like the "Kat" nickname. I wanted to say so much to her, but I could tell she was so weak that it wouldn't even have mattered. I thought of when she was young, with her hair long and brown. She was so energetic back then. I remembered how just before I was diagnosed we were so close. We'd take walks together by the lake and have breakfast at the local diner, where she always ordered the same thing; plain crepes with lemon wedges. We'd talk over coffee---mostly of Jeremy, but of John too. How she loved John; she treated him like a son. When my first episode occurred, she grew distant, however, as if I was a stranger to her. She never really did tell me why she bore a heavy heart toward me.
At times, I would rationalize it, thinking she didn't fully understand my illness, and at other times, I thought maybe she had blamed herself for having a mentally ill daughter. Whatever the case, she never told me exactly why things happened the way it did.
All that didn't matter now. What mattered to me was that she was as comfortable and pain-free as possible.
I sat there with her for a few hours. We didn't say much, just held hands. I stroked her face.
I left the hospital around seven in the evening. Before I left, I gave my cell phone and home numbers to the nurse's station and insisted they call me any time at all, with any news. However, I kind of felt oblivious to her diagnosis. When I was in her room, one of the doctors came in to check on her. All I remember him saying was that she hadn't much time---a few weeks perhaps, maybe a month at the longest. My mind was distorted, and I didn't know what to do. It was only a few days until my trip with Mitch, but it didn't seem worth it now. I was confused and hurt and felt alone in my thoughts. Even though I had Todd and my father to lean on, I knew they would be going through their own pain. I hadn't talked to Martha in a long time; she was always on my mother's side and didn't care much for my lifestyle. Things were starting to become a blur.
Thanksgiving came and went just like any other day. I'd made a small dinner for Jeremy and me. It wasn't anything like the years before when the families would all get together. Todd and Dad were at the hospital, and Martha was cooking up a feast for her in-laws.
It was now Sunday, the day before the trip, and I still wasn't packed as I felt out of place, disorganized. I couldn't believe Mitch talked me into this. It wasn't the right time to be going on a trip, and I felt guilty and ashamed of what was about to happen.
Jeremy noticed I was acting off more and more and said, "Mom, you don't look good. Are you getting any sleep?"
"Yeah, some. I'll be okay. I am just worn out and overtired."
"Please, Mom, you need to slow down. Let me see you take your meds. Now!"
"Okay, okay. I'll get them."
I took out my medication bottles, all three of them, and placed the pills in my hand, showing them to Jeremy to make sure he was watching. I popped them in my mouth and took a swig of juice from the fridge.
"There, see? I took them. Now, Jeremy honey, don't worry."
"Please lie down, at least for a little while. Please?"
"Fine. You're right. It's time for Mom to relax."
I felt groggy on and off all day long. It didn't matter much that I took my meds in front of Jeremy. I still wasn't taking them as prescribed.
The bipolar illness tricked me into thinking I didn't have one. There were times I'd take my pills and feel great, and times I didn't take them and still feel really good. It was like there was nothing wrong. I began to wonder if I might have been misdiagnosed, and thought I could control things on my own. My thoughts of denial became like a game in my mind. It's not me, it's them, I'd say to myself. I'm not sick in the head. They are.
I would be fine for months without the medication, and still have things under control, until something triggered me off---some stress in my life that would ignite that feeling inside me. I would think so deeply on the matters at hand, I would forget what was going on in the real world.
I sweated Sunday out, getting up for only short periods of time to check what time it was, or to go to the bathroom. I was losing track again---losing time all together―and felt like I'd lost a whole day with all my worries.
Mitch called me that morning to confirm the plans. He was happily excited and pleased I answered the phone immediately.
"Hey, babe, how are you?"
"I don't know, Mitch. Something isn't right."
"Don't worry, baby. We'll have a great time together."
He knew all about my illness but thought nothing of it. All he seemed to worry about was getting me into bed.
"Okay, Mitch."
"Good, so I'll pick you up at one o' clock, say?"
"Sure, I will try to be ready by then. I still need to pack."
"Make sure you pack that sexy string bikini too."
I got off the phone and looked at what I had to pack. I just grabbed whatever piece of clothing I thought I'd be comfortable in. I wasn't about to go all out for Mitch, yet I did pack the bikini he asked for.
My mind felt as scattered as the clothes that were strewn about the bed and floor. God, will Jeremy be okay? Whatever happened to John? Why didn't he call me back? Was he supposed to? Should I call him? Questions bounced around my mind like a ping-pong match.
Jeremy left about an hour beforehand and I still wasn't sure of anything.
I made a quick phone call to my mother's room, but she didn't answer. I then called the nurses' office, and they told me she was sleeping. I felt somewhat relieved at this.
Circling around the house for what seemed like a hundred times or more, I felt completely lost and in panic mode. I was compelled to check everything, including my e-mails, of which I had several from Dean. My anxiety levels were rising again as I checked my messages; nothing from Mitch yet. I checked everything in the house including the light switches, the doors and even the stove.
The e-mails from Dean bothered me, so I deleted them all again, but I couldn't delete them from my mind. The drowning of my self-humiliation, and regret about having to ever encounter such an experience, made me feel all the more stressed. What a mistake to get involved with some God-only-knows who, for God-only-knows why? Why was I doing this? I felt selfish and very guilty about leaving my mother to die on her deathbed.
Mitch came right on time and had the cab driver pull up in my driveway and honk the horn. The flight was soon, and it took a while to get to the airport.
"Kat baby, are you ready?" he said on his cell.
"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute."
I grabbed my things, in complete disarray with no make-up and my hair unkempt. I was wearing only my pajamas and a blue Navy Pier shirt and hadn't even taken a shower. I felt rushed, like time was running out on me.
Obviously, Mitch paid no attention to how I looked when he said, "You look beautiful, Kat."
Maybe it was because we were running late, or maybe he didn't care. Who knows? After all, I still didn't know what his exact intentions were. I just assumed it was to have a good time.
"Come on, Kat. Let's go," he said, hurrying me inside the cab.
"Don't rush me. I think I'm forgetting something."
"You have your suitcase, and I have you, so come on. We're a bit late here."
Even though the house looked spotless, I wanted to do one last round of checking, but it was too late for that.
Mitch took my luggage and threw it into the trunk. "Our flight leaves at 2 p.m. You need to speed it up, Kat."
My nerves felt like they were electrocuting me on all different spots of my body. I couldn't settle myself, no matter how many pills I popped. While we were in the car, I dug through my purse to try and pop more, but feeling around everywhere, I couldn't find them.
"Oh, God, Mitch, I forgot my meds. We have to go back."
"It's too late for that. Besides, it's only a few days. You can handle it, can't you?"
I thought how I'd been off my medication for long periods of time and nodded, but I needed them desperately to calm me down. Mitch was right, it was too late and we were already at the airport.
He was talking, but I was starting to zone out and couldn't hear a word he said. Either that or I just didn't want to listen.
We whipped through the airport in good time and only waited about ten minutes to board the plane. I was fixated on the planes landing on the runway as I looked through the windows and could feel Mitch giving me a tug to go. I followed along beside him, trembling.
"Kat, the flight!"
I was on a different flight---a flight of inner turmoil. I couldn't say much, and my lips felt like iron clasps sealed shut. Mitch was still talking, but I didn't respond, or understand.
Finally I understood the word "passport" after he shook me gently by the arm.
"Yes," I said. "I have it."
I did have my passport, but I didn't have my thoughts---not straight at least.
Soon we were on the plane flying to the Bahamas. Mitch ordered some drinks for us, but I shook my head. He pointed out an article he was reading and mumbled. Instantly, the word "death" caught my eye, the word I'd been struggling with concerning my mom. I felt like I was going to die. What if the plane crashes and I'll never be able to see her again? What if I die first?
We landed safely after I suffered from worry the whole plane ride. I couldn't help but think of dying in different ways―like crashing in the ocean and getting eaten by blood-thirsty sharks. It was surreal. The colors of the sky reflected off the green-blue sea, and palm trees swayed in the soft winds, flapping their leaves that spread out like hands. The smell of coconut-cream from suntan lotions mingled in the air, and people showed their skin from the palest white to the deepest brown.
Once we got to the hotel, Mitch made some calls to have room service come to our suite. The room was adorned in floral and tropical prints, and the balcony overlooked a miniature golf course. The lush garden in shades of jade and fuchsia enhanced the oceanfront view.
I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I didn't even think to change my clothes; I just stared into my large, black pupils long enough to go into full madness. I felt trapped there now, like an untamed animal waiting to be set free, and I couldn't think straight. I was dreaming again, and it was hard to motor myself to do anything. Everything felt heavy, like someone was pulling me down.
Mitch had planned on taking me on his yacht and kept on insisting I'd have a good time.
I paced around the room, and then went to the balcony. Amazed at the sight, yet fearful of the height as we were on the fifteenth floor, I was starting to feel lightheaded again. I dared myself and stepped out onto the balcony, viewing the scenery below. The flesh-colored hotel sprawled everywhere and was like a picture you'd see in a travel magazine.
I went back into the bathroom and slipped off my clothes, then twisted the shower knobs to let the water run. As I sat there holding my hand underneath the water, I thought of my mother and how I'd held her hand. The water was almost the same temperature as her skin---cool with a slight chill. When it was warm enough to my liking, I turned on the shower head and stepped in.
I could hear Mitch entering the bathroom.
"Can I join you?"
I heard him rummaging around and through the frosted glass could see him undressing. I didn't say anything.
He slid the shower door open, and the steam plumed out like fog. He stepped in the tub and stood behind me, then began to kiss and caress the nape of my neck, pulling back my soaked hair. He moved his hands around my body, and started massaging my breasts.
"God, you are gorgeous, Kat."
At that point, I didn't care about anything and just let go. I surrendered to Mitch and let him have his way. He pushed gently inside me as the two of us made love.
Mitch made a comment about how I was acting.
"You look out of it, Kat. Why don't you get some rest and leave everything up to me?"
I didn't answer; I just let him guide me to the bed. Everything became a blur after that.
I dreamed of waking to the glorious shining moon, lighting up the whole room in a pale-blue hue. I sat up and could hear voices from outside the balcony. When I glanced at the clock, the time was a fuzzy red glow. I looked over to the side and saw that Mitch was still asleep.
The soft voices seemed loud to me, as if they were standing right beneath the balcony, and I felt compelled to check. Everything felt so real, yet was it? I couldn't tell dream from reality anymore and wasn't sure if I was in fact awake. Those voices, though, they had to be real. Louder and louder they became, but I couldn't make out what they were saying.
I went to the balcony and slid the door open as the sheer curtains floated upward.
"Come on, Katherine, you can do it," the voices chanted. "Come on."
There just below the balcony was the girl, floating in the air. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I had to be dreaming. The girl urged me to go with her.
With no thought for my safety or sanity, I clamped my hands on the railing and placed my left foot onto the ledge. As I let my body sway in the wind, my hair blowing wildly around my face, I began to descend. Before I closed my eyes, I felt hands clamping around my waist, and I was dragged in and laid on the floor. Mitch had a stunned look on his face and again was saying things that I couldn't hear. My body felt numb, and I couldn't move or speak.
"Katherine, how could you?" His voice was muffled, like it was far away. He was shaking me violently, slapping me in the face.
"Katherine, come back to me, please!"
I felt nothing. I tried desperately to wake myself but couldn't. I seemed to be already awake but wasn't sure.
Mitch carried me to the bed and pinned me down, and then he picked up the phone. Soon there was a loud knocking at the door.
"Stay there," he said gruffly.
He opened the door and that's when they came in---two men in dark-navy uniforms.
I reacted instantly, jumping on the bed and screaming, "God help me, God help me!" I ran to the windows and pounded feverishly on the glass. Dear God, what is happening to me, I thought. Why can't I wake? I felt like I wanted to unzip my skin to the bone and flap away---to fly out the window.
One paramedic took me, trying to situate my body on the hospital gurney while the other strapped me down. I tried to escape out of their grasp, but their hands were all over me. I couldn't feel anything, and in my mind thought I couldn't move, yet I was whipping my body around, thrashing it about. I seemed to be trapped within my own body.
I felt a needle pierce through my arm, and darkness sealed my eyes shut.
I woke up in the middle of the night to see a silhouette of a young woman praying behind sheer curtains. There was a glaring light coming from out of the doorway, flickering through the curtain. I saw the shadow of the woman; long curly hair, sitting Indian style, chanting softly. Where was I? Had this still been my dream?
I slapped my face lightly and pinched my hand. I could feel everything. I was in fact awake and got up to look around. There was that sterile smell again, so I was still in the hospital.
As soon as I walked from around the curtain, I saw the young woman with her head down. Her hands were crushed together in prayer, as she sat there rocking back and forth. I could hear her softly saying, "Dear God, bless..." Before I could open my mouth to speak, she looked up.
"Well, hello there," she said. "I'm your new roommate; Nancy."
She was an Arabian-looking girl with long raven-like hair and black, marble eyes. Her nose was long and narrow, and her lips were a ripened red and looked as if she had lipstick on. She couldn't have been any more than twenty five or twenty six.
I didn't understand. One minute I was fighting for my life in the hotel room, and the next I was in the hospital. I was trapped again, and this time it was for real.
In my mind I was raging mad, yet physically I felt like a zombie. I walked back over to my bed, but before that I caught a glimpse of the street lights outside the window. I pressed my hands against the glass, but it was hard to see outside as the windows were caged up. I could just about see the familiar sight across the street of the convenience store I'd gone to just days before the trip. I was in the hospital back home, but how?
I crawled back in bed and tried to recall what had happened, and I wondered where Mitch was for a moment. My heart began to sink into my chest, and again I started to feel like I couldn't move. My legs and arms felt like stone. I thought of Jeremy and wondered how I could let him down like this? I silently promised I wouldn't let anything bad happen.
As I tossed and turned, shuffling the thin, white sheets, I couldn't relax. I had to call Jeremy and find out if he was okay. Did he even know where I was?
I stepped off the bed and glided out to the door down the hall to the nurse's station.
"I have to make a call to my son," I said, pleading with one of the nurses.
"Not until eight this morning, then you can make your phone call. Please return to your room."
Devastated I couldn't call, I felt the urgency to reach over the desk and pick up one of the phones. I lingered there a moment or two as the nurse said again, "Go back to your room, please."
There was nothing more I could do, so I sauntered back to the room and burst into tears. My warm, wet cries rolled off my face, and I felt frustrated and sad at the same time. My head pounded, and my palms felt sweaty.
I began to pace around the room, to try and rebuild my energy. I felt weak, yet had that feeling of wanting to run again---to bolt out of the room. I had to fight back somehow.
I raced to the window and watched the multi-colored lights from the ambulances flashing. I looked to the navy sky and thought of the paramedics and their navy uniforms pulling me down, strapping me in. I banged on the glass, crying, "How could you? How could you do this to me?" I blamed God for letting it happen again. I wanted to hurt myself just so I could feel again, but more than that, I wanted to wake from this awful nightmare.
A nurse came scurrying into the room in response to my cries.
"Please calm down, Katherine," she said, guiding me back to the bed. "Would you like an Ambien to help you sleep?"
I tried to calm myself but thought the sleeping pill would do me good, so I agreed. "Yes, please." My throat was hoarse as I spoke. "Thank you."
"Oh, that's what we're here for, sweetie. I'll be right back with your medication."
The nurse was in and out in a flash. She handed me the pill in a little paper cup and said, "This should help you sleep."
I took the pill and swigged it down with the cup of water she gave me, and then laid down on the bed.
"Now get some rest. You can call your son in the morning."
My eyelids became very heavy after staring at the ice-cube trays of light on the ceiling. The nurse tucked in my covers and checked on Nancy, and then she turned off the light off.
It was now morning as I could see the sunlight peering through the blinds. Nancy my roommate was still sound asleep.
I got up and off the bed and headed to the hallway. I glanced at the classroom-sized clock just across the hall and checked the time---5:45 a.m. Just as I started to head into the hall, one of the nurses caught me and said, "A few more minutes, honey. Six is when you can roam freely in the halls."
Fifteen minutes felt fifteen times too long, let alone two hours. That was the time I had to wait before calling Jeremy. Nothing else mattered now except to hear his voice again, to know that he was in fact okay. It felt like forever since I'd heard from him. When was the last time? Everything in my mind seemed garbled and confused, and the order of my thinking was mixed like a tornado.
Later that morning, half of the people admitted in the psyche ward were awake. Some of them were sitting in the day room watching T.V. and others were in the kitchen down the hall. The rest were still sleeping while the nurses did their room checks.
I stayed in the hallway, pacing around the payphone, checking the time nearly every five minutes. It was a grueling two-hour wait.
Once the clock turned 8:00 a.m., I ran to the nurse's station.
"Can I please make my phone call now?" I said in a hurried voice as I stood there clutching my hands together.
"Not until after breakfast," said the snotty little nurse with long nails, pointing her finger to the kitchen and inferring for me to go there.
"But the other nurse said?"
"The phone lines will be open after breakfast!" she said again.
I went to the kitchen, and the nurses passed out our breakfast trays. I took a seat at the only available table.
"Can I sit with you?" Nancy asked, all jittery as her hospital gown swayed back and forth.
"Sure." Although I wanted to be alone, I didn't want to seem rude. I didn't want anyone turning on me and lashing out; I had to protect myself.
There were all different types of people there in the psyche ward---some that kept to themselves, others that fought the nurses' requests to behave, and some that seemed invisible, like me.
I sat there, listening to Nancy babble about her life, as I played around with the watered-down scrambled eggs. I still tried to glue the pieces together as to what had truly happened.
I tried to retrace my steps, but everything felt like a dream. Some parts I couldn't remember, whether I wanted to or not. I remembered the girl---the one that always came to me in my dreams―and her floating outside the balcony. Then the chanting in my head started again. Come on Katherine, you can do it.
After breakfast, the nurses announced that the payphone lines were open. I was finally able to make the call to Jeremy.
Once we all finished eating, and breakfast was officially over, I headed down the hall to the nurse's station. "Can I make that phone call now?"
"Yes," said the heavy-set nurse, "but you are limited to two calls per nurse's shift, unless you have quarters of your own."
"No, I don't have any money."
"What's the number?"
I gave the number to her and waited for her to transfer the call to one of the pay phones just outside the nurse's station. On the first ring, it went through.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Jeremy?"
"Mom!"
"How are you, baby? I missed you." I clung to the phone, cupping it close to my face.
"I'm okay, Mom. I told you about that guy, and to be careful." I could hear the frustration in his voice. Right away, by the scolding tone, I knew he was upset with me.
"I know, honey. I should have listened to you."
"What really happened out there?"
"That's just it. I don't really know."
"Dad is taking care of everything."
"John? Oh, no. He must hate me right now."
"Look, Mom, no one hates you. We're just trying to help you. You were lucky that Dad was able to."
"But how?" I was puzzled by the whole traumatic event.
"When Mitch called him, he..."
"Mitch called your father? Dear God." I nearly dropped the phone out of my hands.
John didn't know anything about Mitch, nor did he know I was dating again. Instantly I felt that pulsating shock again, as if someone had come from behind and scared me to death.
"Yes, Dad knows all about it. We do talk ya know, Mom. It shouldn't come as a surprise."
"You mean you told your Dad?"
"He's known for a while. Besides, we are your emergency numbers, remember? I told you to do that for me. Mitch got them from your cell phone. We had you flown back home. Don't you remember that?"
"No, I don't. I don't remember. Jeremy, I'm scared." My voice trembled, and I felt ashamed about what transpired. I should have listened. The regret poured through me like hot liquid, and that rushing feeling was coming back again.
"Listen, Mom. You're safe now. Just concentrate on getting better, and take your meds!"
"Yes, and from now on too."
"Not just when you feel like it."
"How did you..."
"I know, Mom. I live with it every day."
"I'm so sorry, Jeremy. Will you ever forgive me?"
That day and the following days, I was to go to group therapy. If I didn't, I would have to stay longer, so I had to participate, and if I didn't adhere to the rules, I might never see the outside world again.
Group therapy started in the dayroom, and the majority of people were sitting down in the center of the room. The carpet had dizzy designs of browns and burnt oranges and gave me an uneasy feeling. The thick glass windows with heavily screened-in frames made it difficult to see outside, yet I could see everything and yearned to be out there. I wanted to feel the cool brush of air against my face, and I missed the pine smells and the lake near my home. Just knowing I had to stay for days, maybe weeks, gave me a feeling of despair. I didn't want to be there.
I was curious, however, to see why everyone was there. In my own little way, I wanted to relate to someone. Had anyone else gone through what I had? Who had it worse than everybody else and, most importantly, how long was I going to stay there?
Everyone was to introduce themselves and explain briefly why or how they came into the hospital.
After the social worker and counselor on duty informed us what to do, the session began around the room with a fortyish, tall, gray-haired man.
"Hi, I'm Dave. I have O.C.D. and tried to kill myself." He was straightforward and clear in his speech and seemed calm, like he'd been there a while and was stable again. "I have two days left before discharge, and I am looking forward to getting back on my feet."
The counselor mentioned that if anyone did not want to stay then they certainly didn't have to, but it was mandatory to at least state your name and try to listen in on the groups.
"Hi, I'm Sherry." The woman hesitated a little as she shifted in her seat. She had street clothes on and must have been a resident for a while.
"Sherry, would you like to say more?" the counselor asked.
She glared out the window at first, and then turned to him. "No."
After a long silence, the counselor motioned to the next person to speak. He was a short, middle-aged Mexican man. "Hi, I'm Juan. I am clinically depressed and have thoughts of suicide."
I thought of Dean again and how he told me he was diagnosed clinically depressed. Had Dean felt that way recently? Was that why he was acting so horribly odd that day he came to visit me?
The awkwardly thin lady with hair chopped short was next, but she feverishly shook her head, so the counselor held his hand up in my direction. Before I could introduce myself, the thin girl shouted, "I need my insulin!"
"No worries, Mary, all right?" the counselor said to her. "Just ask one of the nurses."
The counselor went on. "Just as a reminder to everyone, the nurses will be giving out your medications shortly after group. You will be assured that if you need anything, the nurses and staff on duty will be glad to help. Okay, may we continue?" He gestured to me again.
I nervously started to stumble out words. "Umm...I'm Katherine. Well, Kat is fine. It's my nickname." I stopped to think how awful I sounded. All the thoughts in my mind were scattered pieces of dream and reality, and I didn't know which was which. I didn't know why I was there and could only think of one possible answer---the most important of all. "I stopped taking my meds."
"Good, thank you for sharing that with us," the counselor said. "Nancy? Would you like to go next?" She nodded.
"I pray to God everyday, and everyday He blesses us," Nancy said.
I tuned her out like I did at breakfast. As she rambled on about what she was thankful for, I looked out the windows. I thought how thankful I was to have John. It was a miracle I was still alive.
I vaguely remembered the balcony incident, but sparks kept flashing in my mind. The haunting mental pictures caused me to block a lot of it out. After Mitch pulled me inside, I lost my memory. My fleeting thoughts of being in the airplane back home and the sounds of cheering voices were all mixed in with everything else. I didn't remember ever seeing John during all this time at all; was he there for the flight? Where was Mitch during all this?
I still had so many unanswered questions.
Nancy kept talking about God as my thoughts were skipping around. Then the group was able to talk freely after the introductions and listening to Nancy's long God-rant.
I listened to the other patients and what they had to say. Dave rambled on about his O.C.D. habits after Juan explained how he'd tried to commit suicide. They all wanted to hurt themselves in some way or another, just like I did.
I, too, felt misplaced and alone---mainly due to the same thing; caring for others, so much so to the point you don't take care of yourself. You fall off track on a daily and regular basis, and you begin to skip showers, meals and most of all, medications. Everyone seemed to fall into the same predicament. I wasn't the only one.
That was what the hospital had to offer---healthy, scheduled habits. We had to relearn how to be good to ourselves and maintain a hearty balance in our daily lifestyle.
After breakfast and morning group therapy, lunch was at noon and dinner at 5:00 p.m., with more group therapy in between. Visiting hours were from 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m., and then one last wrap-up meeting at night before bedtime. Most importantly, medications were every day, two and three times a day. Each of us lined up like we were little school kids again, and this process would occur after all meals. Everyone had their own nurse.
I complied with every rule, including seeing the doctor every day.
I ranted away to him about why I desperately needed to get out, how I needed to see Jeremy again, how I needed to see my mom. I told him Jeremy was unable to visit because he was underage.
One day, as we lined up for our meds, the payphone in the hall rang.
"Katherine, it's for you."
"Hello?"
"Hello, Kat, it's me; John. How are you?"
I was so glad to hear from him but ashamed at the same time. I didn't know what to say at first, so I let him do the talking.
"Still here? We need to sort some things out."
"Yeah, I'm still here...unfortunately."
"Well, you wouldn't be, if you were taking your meds every day. How many times do we have to go through this?" The sternness in his voice cut like knives.
"Can I see you?"
"I'm sorry I can't visit you right now, Kat. I'm not in Wisconsin at the moment. I'm away on business."
"Away on business? God, what horrible timing."
"So, I talked to the doctor. Do you remember anything at all?"
"Yes, here and there."
"Who's this Mitch guy?"
"Just a friend."
"Seems more than a friend if you're willing to go to the Bahamas with him."
Instantly, I got defensive. I didn't like to be interrogated, especially since we now had lives of our own, so I changed the conversation. "How's Natalie?"
"Natalie is not important right now. What's important is that you get better."
All I heard was "Natalie is not important right now." In my mind, I saw a glimmer of hope.
"Natalie's not important to you, John? She's only your fiancée."
"No, so how did you get those bruises on your arms?"
A flash of Mitch throwing me onto the floor and trying to wake me entered my mind. I don't know how, but I just thought of it. Some things were finally coming back to me.
"I'm not sure. I haven't heard from Mitch since the episode occurred."
"Yeah, that's right. Good old Mitch, who is married too by the way. How could you let yourself get involved with that?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."
"Of course, like he doesn't want this to leak out to his wife either. You can forget about him now. From how it sounds, he wants nothing to do with this at all. You're lucky he even called me. Christ, he could have left you there. Katherine, listen to me..." his voice trailed off.
Before John could go on, the nurse called out, "Group meeting in five minutes."
"John, I have to go. I do want to listen to you, I really do. We'll talk about this later. I can explain. Please call me again, okay?"
"Well you're not always around, or I can't always get through to the receptionist." After a slight pause, he went on to say, "However, I will keep in contact. I'll make sure of that. I'm taking care of everything, just relax. Jeremy is fine, so get some rest. I talked to Mr. Ming too. We all just want you to get better."
"Thank you, John."
Just before the phones disconnected, John uttered an, "I love you."
I was taken aback. I hadn't heard him say that in years. Right after the phone call, I was in higher and more hopeful spirits.
It was a Tuesday in the first week in December, as the counselors informed us during one of the meetings. It had been a full week of hospital stay and by this time I was really itching to get out.
"How much longer are you going to keep me here?" I asked the doctor as he stood beside my bed.
"Not too much longer, Katherine. We want to see if your vitals are stable."
Livid with the doctor, I began to raise my voice. "You can't kill my emotions; they live and breathe inside me. I don't want to be a zombie, either."
The feeling inside me was like a slow storm rising above the lake, as the skies began to darken.
"Katherine, it is always good to express your emotions, and the meds I have you on now shouldn't make you feel sluggish in any way. If you are starting to feel side effects though, alert me as soon as possible."
"Then you will let me go?"
"Yes, I should have the results by tomorrow morning."
"Good."
I calmed down after hearing the news that I would be leaving the next day. It had been over a week by now, and two weeks since I last saw Jeremy. I missed him terribly.
It was six o' clock, an hour after dinner, and time for visiting hours. I doubted I would get anyone. My friend Jenny, who'd called me over the weekend, was at home tending to her sick son, so I knew she couldn't make it. When I looked up to see who the nurse buzzed into the halls, I was happily surprised to see Todd.
We embraced quickly and walked back to my room.
He sat on the glossy vinyl chair, while I took a seat on the bed.
"How's Mom?" I asked abruptly.
"She's stable and in good spirits. She wants to see you, Kat. She doesn't know you're here."
"Good, don't tell her. I will visit her once I get out. Can you pick me up for discharge?"
"No, I can't. Finals are this week, and I can't miss."
Todd had been taking classes at the community college near our home, and I knew how important it was to him.
"What about John; can't he do it?" Todd asked.
"He's out of town."
"Martha? What about her? I would say Dad, but he's always with Mom."
"I guess..."
"Katherine, it's important you stay well. Don't worry about leaving just yet."
"Yeah," I muttered softly as warm tears began to stream down my face.
"Come on, Kat. Where's that feisty little girl that used to get bullied into fights at school and win all the time? You need to fight now."
"Okay, Todd."
Those comments alone played on my mind. For years I was harassed by my peers. Slowly but surely, after dating John and getting support from Todd, I rebuilt my confidence.
Toward the end of our visit, the nurses called out in every room. "Visiting hours are now over. Please come to the nurse's station and sign out."
I got up off the bed, walked over to Todd and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for this. I really appreciate it."
"I know you do, Kat. Stay well. I'll call you soon."
Thursday---eleven days of hospitalization, and I was in much better shape. I felt centered again, myself again, and my thoughts were clear. The doctor came in with the blood results.
"It looks good, Katherine," he said. "Your Tegretol levels are where they should be. I will fill out the forms for your release."
"Today?" My release date had been pushed back from when Todd came to visit, but I knew he was too busy to pick me up anyway. John still was out of town, and Jenny didn't want to catch anything from the hospital because of her son's condition, so that left Martha. "Oh. Thank you, Doctor."
"Please, Katherine, stay on those meds. It's vital to your health. You wouldn't want to have another episode like this."
"Yes, Doctor. I most certainly will."
My discharge would be at noon.
I had to make phone calls to get a ride. I didn't want to call Martha since I hadn't spoken with her in over a year and didn't know how she felt about it. It would be awkward having to talk to her again, yet I desperately wanted to get out of the hospital and didn't want to wait any more days than I had to. So, I built up the courage and called her.
"Martha, it's me; Kat. I'm in the hospital, and they are letting me go. I just need a ride. Can you help me?"
"I haven't heard from you in so long, Kat, and now you need me. Is that right?" Her voice pierced through the phone. "Where were you when I needed you? Better yet, when Mom needed you? No, I can't help you. You can't even help yourself."
"Martha, please! I know it's been a long time, and I'm sorry for that, but I really need you right now."
"I don't want to help you."
"Don't want to? It's just a ride for Christ's sake! I'll pay you."
"I don't want your money. I don't want anything to do with you and your mistakes."
"Martha, we're sisters." I was appalled at what she said. Even though we hadn't talked in so long, I couldn't believe how bitter she was acting.
"I don't have a sister anymore." With that, she hung up.
Shocked, I let the phone slip out of my fingers as it began to dangle like a pendulum clock. "I don't have a sister anymore." The words chanted in my mind.
I slunk down off the wall and just sat there, curling my legs in the fetal position and nestling my head between them. As I wrapped my arms around me, I closed my eyes and stared into the pitch blackness and felt numb again---like the feeling I had when I first awoke in the hospital. I couldn't cry at this point. I was too stunned.
I was never really that close to my oldest sister. Martha lived in a world of her own. Since she was raised first, she was cared for first. My parents tried extremely hard to guide her in the best direction they could---all the while forgetting about me and Todd.
From education to activities, they were actively involved, but Martha took a bad turn in high school when her dating got out of control. She was considered a "slut" in those days, hanging out with her druggie friends.
Back then, she was a very attractive and voluptuous girl with big, flowing hair and shapely curves that attracted all the guys. I remember one time when I was little she owned a fish tank filled with all kinds of tropical fish her "at the time" boyfriend would give her. I was only nine or ten at the time and tried to take care of them since Martha wouldn't. I did all I could to keep the fish alive, doing research about all the tropical and exotic fish. That's how my love for traveling grew.
However, Martha hadn't cared about the fish and never cleaned the tank. She dumped the fish just like she did her boyfriends. Even though she changed her ways after she stopped using drugs and got married, she remained selfish---always worrying about herself, not the fish, not her boyfriends, not anything. It wasn't until she became a mother that she actually started caring for someone else.
I got up off the floor and sauntered to my room. The thought of having to wait another day seemed bleak as the day proceeded aimlessly.
Yet again, I had to wait.
Todd and I spoke that night, and I told him about my dilemma with Martha. After classes were over he said he might manage to squeeze in time to pick me up, but as the minutes passed, discharge release time at 10:00 p.m. came and went.
It wasn't until morning that he actually came to get me. I was finally getting out and on my way home.
The moment I walked in the door, the house looked amazing. Everything was clean and neat and had the smell of lemons. The carpet was vacuumed and dishes done. Even the floor in the kitchen seemed to shine.
Jeremy had spent nearly two weeks alone, and I was extremely proud of him for keeping the house in order.
We embraced the minute I entered the house. I showered him with kisses as he laughed and said, "Mom, please, you're crushing me!" From the look on his face I knew he enjoyed it and was just as happy to see me as I was to see him.
"Jer, buddy. The house looks wonderful, and it smells so nice. Did you use the carpet-fresh stuff?"
"Yeah, Ma. I sprinkled some on and vacuumed, but I think I broke it. It was making these weird whistling noises."
"Ha." I laughed. "No worries. I'm just glad you were safe. You're becoming such an adult, Jeremy. I am so proud of you." I rustled around his hair as we both stood there in the kitchen.
After such a warm welcome, I started to unwind and unpack my bags. The clothes I wore at the hospital were from donations, but I'd packed them anyway as the nurse insisted on taking all my stuff, including five thick folders filled with paperwork. I had everything in there from how to accept my illness to medical insurance information.
I could see the laundry piled up. I was puzzled to see the luggage from my Bahamas trip had been sitting in the corner of my room, as if I hadn't even gone. As I unzipped the suitcase and flipped it open, I could see that everything was neatly packed and untouched. That's right! I thought. I didn't even get a chance to wear anything. It all happened so fast. "Jer, how did I get this back?" I asked him from the bedroom while he relaxed on the couch, flipping channels again like always.
"That guy came by; Mitch, or whatever his name is...and dropped it off. Man he's a character. Real sure of himself. You know how to pick 'em, Ma."
"Jeremy, I can't tell you enough how sorry I am for putting you through all this. From now on, Mitch is out of the picture."
"Dean, is he out of the picture too?"
"How do you know about that?"
"Well, he called the house quite a few times looking for you."
"Was that it?"
"Yeah, and oh, he said he had something for you, and to please give him a call. That was it."
Oh, God! What does he want now? Why was Dean still pestering me to talk to him? What was it this time? Was there something else of mine he had? First my I.D. and now what? My credit cards too perhaps? Although I hadn't noticed anything missing, who knows what it could be.
After I got situated at home, I walked upstairs to the computer to check my e-mail. As I took a few deep breathes and signed in, a whopping three hundred and eighty-one unread messages popped up. I just laughed and lightly breezed through them. I didn't have that overwhelming feeling like I usually did, so I could tell the meds were working. I figured I would sort through them later, chipping away at them slowly one at a time, but right now that didn't matter, because right now I felt good.
I really wanted to make a valiant effort to stay on track and make a difference for my loved ones. I desperately wanted their trust back---not just Jeremy's and my mother's, but John's as well.
The schedule I adhered to in the hospital was fairly easy to abide by---to have three meals a day, at roughly the same time each day, finding coping skills to deal with stress, such as writing and walking, keeping mentally and physically fit and above all else, taking the meds as prescribed.
Although I was still having trouble sleeping, as I awoke in a sweat at the same time in the middle of the night, I wasn't as troubled to realize it was just a dream.
As I got up and headed down the hall, I could see that Jeremy was finally sleeping in his bedroom, which I was pleased about. The house was dark and quiet as the blue hue from the moon peered through the blinds. I was compelled to step outside for a smoke, but thought against it since I wanted to cut down. In the hospital I wore a nicotine patch, which helped, and now, since my nervousness had subsided, I was able to cut down more and more.
I peeked out the window and watched the glistening snowflakes fall from the sky. Outside was picturesque with the trees lightly powdered with snow. I looked into the distance to where the lake peered through the evergreens as shadows of light flickered from the few cars that passed down the street.
Suddenly, my eyes caught sight of the dark silhouette standing behind the trees. It was hard to make out. What was it?
I turned around for a moment and started to become worried, and then I dared myself to look back. The shadow was gone.
Down the road a deer was grazing on the dried-up twigs sticking out from the snow-covered ground. Relieved, I passed the animal off as the shadow; that's what it had to be.
After the little adrenaline rush, or scare, I decided to put on my coat and step outside into the backyard. It was wonderful to have the freedom of the open air again---even if it was a frozen temperature.
Although I'd tried to quit, I had such a craving for a cigarette. I reached inside my pocket and grabbed my smokes. As I lit up, sparking up the match, smelling sulfur, the flame glowed around me making a halo effect in the air.
It was like the dream---the girl had still visited me in my subconscious. Why was this still happening? Who was she?
In my dream, she was bloody and walking in the snow, leaving a trail of red behind. She kept calling out to me, but this time I didn't follow. I heard her cries through the forest and stood in the cold darkness, as I did now, but with nothing on. I was naked, yet the coldness didn't affect me. I felt a warm rushing feeling between my legs as if someone had poured hot oil on me, and when I looked down I could see it was blood. The trail of blood she left was coming from me. We were connected somehow.
After seeing visions of my last dream, while standing outside, I flicked my cigarette in the snow and went inside. Enough of this nonsense, I thought.
Instead of doing the usual and going to the computer to chat and e-mail, I decided to lie back down.
I pulled the covers over my cold nose and curled up underneath the warmth. It was now mid-December, and John was still away. I thought of how hard he worked, getting construction deals and building permits. He was working on getting his own company started and awaited approval from the union. I desperately missed him and yearned to see his face. It'd been so long, I was starting to forget.
Then my thoughts shifted to my mother. I had to see her. Once I get up in the morning, I will go visit her, I thought. For now, I needed my rest. It felt good to be tired and at the right time---the middle of the night. It was the first time in a long time that I was able to fall back to sleep, and quickly too.
Before Jeremy left for school in the morning, I kissed him good-bye, and then prepared myself for out-patient therapy. I wasn't about to disobey doctor's orders and go off my meds this time. I would be true to myself. After the divorce, things just hadn't been the same. This was the third attack in two years and slowly but surely, I would not let it happen again. Not on my watch.
I got ready, bundling up for the cold, brisk air and went to the car and heated it up. I noticed these strange footprints in the snow. The tracks led from the driveway to the garage.
I checked inside the garage and thought maybe someone might have broken in, but the lock wasn't tampered with in any way. There was a foul odor coming from somewhere, however.
Maybe it was the neighbors snow-blowing, I thought, or it could have been the deer I saw last night. The snow was so peppered with prints of all kinds, making it hard to tell. It could have been Jeremy too, taking out the trash.
Once I exited the garage, the stench got stronger.
I saw a drop of red in the snow, and then a few more drops that led from behind the garage, so I followed the trail. As I walked around back, I was shocked to see the deer lying there, contorted and bloody.
A jolt of fear ran through me. I ran back to the car to call the police and could feel the cold sweat drip off my skin as the heat from inside the vehicle blew in my face.
It was early morning, right before nine, and I was pressed for time for the out-patient therapy meeting. Ironically, it was the same hospital my mom was in.
After I answered some questions from the police officer, I hurriedly rushed him off the phone.
"I am late for a meeting; can I call back?"
"Yes. In the meantime, we will have someone come out and check the perimeter."
Once I got to the hospital, I tried to set my thoughts aside regarding the bloody deer. It must had been hit by a car, but why was it placed behind my garage?
I entered the hospital, knowing it was only a temporary visit and that I was able to go back home. Two weeks there seemed like too long. I wondered how my mom was holding up and completely felt for her. Although I was in the hospital under much different circumstances now, I knew how it felt to be locked up in a place you didn't want to be.
Out-patient group therapy lasted a few hours. It was the same routine as before; everyone introduced themselves and poured out their feelings.
I didn't say much when it was my turn to speak, but I was able to vent out some things, walking away from the meeting feeling somewhat satisfied for the day. I even met a few new faces. So, all in all, I thought it went well.
The meeting was over at noon, and everyone got up, stretched out of their seats and headed to the elevator doors, while I took the stairs to the fourth floor.
Finally, it was time to see my mother.
"Mom?" I whispered to her. She was sitting up, eating this time. It was good to see her like that. Although she was too weak to do it herself, a nurse was there to help.
"Katherine? Is that you?"
I came up close for her to see.
"Yes, Mom. I'm here."
"Where have you been?" she asked in a raspy voice as she started to cough.
"I was having some trouble."
"With what? Is everything okay? How's Jeremy?"
"Jeremy's fine, Mom. I was in the hospital again."
"Oh, honey. I'm sorry to hear..." She coughed again. "How are things now?"
"Better, but I have a long way to go."
I proceeded to tell her what happened---the parts that I remembered―then I began to mention bits and pieces of the dream-girl. I told her how it still bothered me, and how I wondered why it was still happening.
After a long stint of talking to her about it, she turned pale in the face.
"What is it, Mom?"
"Nurse, could we have some privacy please?"
The nurse nodded her head, took the tray of food off the bedside table and left the room.
My mother then took my hand, cold and clammy as it was, and folded it up inside hers.
"It's been a while, but I'm glad we are talking again." She paused for a moment and squeezed my hand a little harder.
"What is it, Mom?"
"Forgive me for not telling you this sooner. Believe me, it bothered me for years."
"Mom, you're scaring me. Was it something I did wrong?"
"No, honey. It wasn't you. Well, not entirely."
"Then what?"
"Maybe you are having dreams of your daughter."
"What?" My mind in shock, I gave her a glazed look. "How?"
"You miscarried a girl."
"I thought it was a molar pregnancy. The doctor said it was nothing but cysts."
She pulled me a little closer and said, "After your ultrasound, the doctor pulled me off to the side and told me. I didn't want to tell you just then since you were so upset. Months later you were pregnant with Jeremy. You were so happy, I couldn't tell you after that."
I couldn't believe it. All those years and now she tells me. It had to be what it was. I remember it was in late February, the twenty-seventh to be exact---it never occurred to me that the date was the same as the numbers of the clock each night; 2:27 a.m. Everything seemed to connect after that. All the premonitions I had, and here I thought it was me in another life. No. It was my child.
After I left the hospital, I pulled up in the driveway to see the cops and animal control cleaning up the deer.
"You Miss Wheeler?" the police officer asked once I stopped alongside the house.
"Yes, I called this morning."
"We just need to take a few pictures, and we should be set. There wasn't anything odd that happened last night was there?"
The police officer was young, in his early twenties. In a way, he reminded me of Jeremy with his sandy blonde hair and lengthy body.
"No, not that I could think of." I hesitated a little, and then remembered one other thing. "Well, Officer, there was this odd shadow across the street behind the trees, but that was in the front of my house."
"Okay. We'll have someone check the whole area."
"May I ask how the deer died? I mean, where was all that blood coming from?"
"There were multiple stab wounds around the neck and chest. We are looking into it. We have zero tolerance for animal killers. If there's anything else you can remember, please notify me right away."
"Okay, Officer, I will."
After the unsettling incident with the deer, I tried to pull it together and do some work.
I went downstairs and started making dinner. I got out the roast from the fridge, peppering it with different salts and seasonings, stuck the meat thermometer in and placed it in the oven.
Jeremy called and said he was going out after school, so I was alone, again.
Late in the evening, around eight, there was a knock at my door. I checked through the blinds to see who it was. There was a flower delivery truck pulled up in front and a kid standing with a bouquet of some sort all covered in purple gift wrap.
I opened the door a crack.
"Flower delivery for a Miss Wheeler?" the young boy said, standing there shivering.
"From who?" A plume of fog came from my breath.
"Doesn't say. Can you sign for me?"
"Sure."
After I opened the door full way, a burst of cold air swept into the front room. I took the electric pen and signed on the small screen as the kid held up the computer device.
"Thank you," I said, while he handed me the flowers.
I shut the door, went into the kitchen and placed them on the table. Starting from the top, I began to rip the paper in a downward split. Out popped a dozen red roses. They were beautiful with their huge budding bulbs and velvet petals. The fresh smell permeated the room.
There was a small envelope sticking out of the bunch, and my heart flooded with excitement, yet I felt uneasy at the same time. With all that had been happening, I wasn't sure.
Once I opened it, sliding out the card, I was puzzled at what it said. Written in a scribble was, "Sorry." I couldn't make out the handwriting. At first I thought of John, but why would he say sorry? He had nothing to be sorry about, unless there was something he hadn't told me yet. Was it because he was marrying Natalie? There had been times he wanted to tell me something, and I'd blown him off. Now, since I got sick again, all that'd been pushed aside. Then I thought of Mitch. Maybe it was him.
Just as I pondered who it was, the telephone rang.
"Hello?"
For a long moment there was a silence.
"Hello?" I said again.
"Hey," a deep voice said into the phone.
"Who is this?"
"It's me, babe."
Then I knew. A chill ran through me as if I had a window open this time of year. I wasn't in any mood to talk to him. "Dean!" I was surprised and a little unnerved it took him a few seconds to respond. It was creepy.
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry, Dean, I can't..."My voice trembled as I spoke. I could hear the words failing on me and felt trapped. I wanted to hang up but was so stunned by his voice, I couldn't move.
"Did you get my gift?"
I tried to get my thoughts together as they scattered across the room.
"Gift?"
"Yeah, gift. Did you get it?"
Instantly, the flowers came to mind as I glanced at them on the table.
"Oh, yeah, that! Thank you."
Then the silence again. "Dean? Still there?"
Click!
Wow, he hung up on me. That was strange. What was all that about? I mean, I was thankful for the flowers, but why did he have to hang up like that?
"Yo, Ma, I'm home. Uhh, it's smells good in there," Jeremy said after stepping in the back door.
He came home around 10:00 p.m. and was, of course, still hungry. Luckily I'd made the roast earlier. It was nice that the kitchen still smelled of the tender seasonings and fresh spices. I walked into the kitchen to greet him and started on the dishes.
"So, dude, wanna tell me where you've been?"
"Oh, Ma. Do we hafta go through this again?" he said in a cocky voice.
"Jeremy, I am serious. You need to tell me. Strange things have been happening around here, and I'm worried. Mainly about you, so tell me!" I demanded to know. I could feel my face blushing. I didn't want to get mad at him, but this was too important.
"Okay, Okay! I'll tell you, but don't freak out on me."
"Jeremy, you're scaring me, what is it?"
"Her name is Mallory."
"Mallory? You mean you've been dating?"
"Yes, and don't freak out on me. I don't want you going overboard. We just started dating about a month ago."
"Oh, Jeremy! That's wonderful! Oh, wow! When do I get to meet her?"
"Mom! I told you not to go all weird. I don't wanna talk about it right now. It's too embarrassing. Besides, after I told Dad, we had yet another one of those talks, so come on, quit it."
"So your dad knew before me? Wow, I'm a little hurt by that, Jer. Why would you leave me out like that? When were you gonna tell me?"
"Well, you were sick, remember? I just wanted to wait till you got better."
"I am better, Jeremy, and I will continue to get better. I promise this time."
"You'd better," he said, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and shaking my hair around.
"Or what?"
"Or, I won't tell you anymore."
I started laughing as we both joked around, him giving me a bear hug while I tried to tickle his shoulders.
"Stop, Ma."
"You stop too, dude!"
After we both let go of each other, he smiled and said, "Don't worry, Mom. I'll let you know what's going on. Just don't grill me about it every day. Deal?"
"Deal!"
I was satisfied enough with that answer. I wasn't about to go pushing his buttons on his personal life. I was just lucky to be involved in any way possible, and I loved him like there was no tomorrow. I enjoyed it so much when he did open up to me.
After I finished the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, it was well after 11:00 p.m. I told Jeremy I was heading to bed, after I checked and locked all the doors.
I took one last look at the roses, feeling their soft petals and thought why Dean hung up on me after I thanked him for what seemed like a sweet gesture. Too tired to analyze it all, I walked into the bathroom, took my meds and turned off the lights. I was now finally able to lie down.
I fell asleep instantly.
It was summer, and I could see the afternoon sunlight glistening off the lake. The air was tepid with the soft wind touching my face like warm hands. I could hear people laughing and playing in the water, but no one was there---no one except her.
She was wearing a white dress, dancing around the trees, dropping rose petals. In her hair she wore a crown of thorns.
I went for a closer look as I watched her dance. She seemed happy and content.
As I approached the girl, I asked, "Are you lost, little one?"
She had to be only four or five. Her golden hair hung loosely, shaping her face in curls as purple ribbon flowed down along with it.
"I am not lost."
"No?"
She proceeded to dance again, singing soothing melodies of the moon and the stars.
I asked again, "You're not lost?"
She stared at me as we locked eyes, and I could feel her beating heart within my belly. I heard a whispering murmur of her thoughts, but it was hard to make them out.
"I am not lost," she said. "I am found."
Puzzled by what that meant, I felt compelled to touch her. I reached out my hands and gently cradled hers. There we stood, both rocking our arms back and forth.
"Let me show you," she said as she guided me to the lake.
The blue sky hadn't a cloud in it, and the sun's rays were filtering through the trees onto the path in a glistening light. I felt amazing, like I could fly, as if we were drifting above the forest.
"Come, I will show you," she said again.
We came to the edge of the lake, where land and water met. The gritty sand stuck between my bare feet as we continued to hold hands.
She pointed to the water, urging me to look.
"See, I am found," she said.
When I looked in the water, I could only see my reflection. I was standing there alone as my mirrored imaged floated above the surface. I turned back to the girl and knelt down beside her. "I don't understand."
Before I could say another word, she vanished. When I glanced back at my reflection, the image's lips where moving. I crouched down to the water to hear better, skimming the water with my hand. Suddenly, I felt another hand clamp down on mine.
"Good-bye, Mother," the image said.
Just about the time I was pulled in, I awoke, but this time it was early morning as the sun rose---light beaming everywhere. I checked the time to see: 6:45 a.m. I'd slept through the whole night. Finally, my meds were kicking in. The doctor did mention it would take up to six weeks for the medication to fully work.
Jeremy was already up and getting ready for school.
"I didn't want to wake you, Ma. You looked so peaceful."
"Thanks, Jeremy, but you didn't have to do that."
I must admit, I did feel better rested, and the dream was just a dream. I thought of what my mother said about the girl being my child. It all became clearer now. That was it, but the eerie words jaded me. "Good-bye, Mother," was the last thing she said.
The phrase made me think of saying good-bye to my own mother. Her doctor had mentioned she only had a few weeks left---a month at most. I promised myself I would go visit her again sometime today.
Once Jeremy left, I started up the computer to work.
The day went on as usual, and I was happy to get a lot of work done. I felt more on track, and during the day I received an e-mail from John letting me know he was on his way home. Relieved, I started to get excited about finally seeing him after so many months.
I worked on different packages for my clients and talked to Mr. Ming. He was overjoyed to hear that I was better again and in good spirits.
At noon, I got an e-mail---from Mitch.
In the subject line it read: Thinking of you.
Honestly, I thought that was all over, but apparently not. I did want to talk to him and ask him what really happened that night in the Bahamas, so I opened it:
Sorry things turned out the way it did. Hope you enjoy the flowers I sent you.
Oh, God! Dean wasn't the one. What was he referring to when he said that about "the gift?" I started to worry. Just what was he implying?
Eager to find out, I decided to go through my trash inbox and read some of the messages he sent me. The first one I opened was the most current one:
So you liked my deer! Then you'll like what comes next.
Just as I finished reading, sitting there shocked, I heard the back door open. Good, it's Jeremy, I thought.
I turned everything off and ran downstairs into the kitchen.
"Jeremy? Where are you?"
I heard nothing and found it odd the door was still open. I circled the house, checking his room first, then mine, and went back into the front room and around to the kitchen again.
"Dear God! It's you!" My heart was racing faster and faster, and I felt a tinge of fear course through my blood.
"Yep, it's me, Kat. Miss me?"
"Dean! Get out!"
Just as I was about to turn, he grabbed me by the wrist and swung me toward him.
"Oh, you know you like this. You liked that bloody deer behind your garage, I know you'll like this!"
"Dean! Let me go, you bastard!" I started kicking and screaming as he held me tightly around my waist. I thrashed about as I tried desperately to grab onto something.
"Dean, don't!" I screamed, as he began to rip my sweat pants off and then squeezed my breasts.
"You know you like this, you bitch!"
I heard the door open. Jeremy?
"Let go of her now!"
"If I don't, what the fuck are you gonna do?"
Dean swiveled my body around so that I was facing him.
He whipped out a knife and started swinging it in the air. I still couldn't make out who had come into the house. Dean let me go, and I was able to see who it was. John!
Dean pounced at John, almost stabbing him in the leg. They struggled hard as John put Dean into a head-lock. "Here, you sick fuck!" John shouted, punching him in the sides. Dean continued to struggle and swung feverishly in the air as John reached over to the sink.
"John! Be careful!" I screamed as I moved out of the way of the two of them.
John grabbed whatever he could and picked up something sticking out of the sink drainer. Trying not to look, I gasped in fear, and heard an "Uhh" from Dean.
He dropped to the floor, blood spurting everywhere. John had plunged the meat thermometer into his neck.
"Call the police! Now!" John urged, standing over Dean's broken and bloody body.
"Is he dead?"
"Yes."
Once the cops arrived they questioned me and John. I mentioned that Dean had tried something like this before and must have been stalking me for months. Everything fitted the story. I also said he confessed about the deer and that I had an e-mail to prove it.
After they investigated the crime scene, taking pictures and walking all through the inside and outside of the house, one detective said, "If there's anything else, please contact me immediately." Both John and I nodded our heads in agreement as the detective handed us a card.
The paramedics placed Dean's dead body on a gurney inside a huge dark bag and zipped him up.
By now it was after 4:00 p.m. and Jeremy still wasn't home. After checking my cell, I noticed he'd left a voice-mail message telling me he was with Mallory again. It was a huge relief to know that, enabling me to put my worries aside.
John and I continued to embrace as everyone left.
"It was a good thing I came straight here after the airport."
"Yeah, it was."
"How did you know?"
"Well, Jenny informed me that you were talking to someone online and, well, I was curious. Actually, I thought you were with him and that you guys were just dating. I didn't know―"
"That this would happen?"
"Why didn't you tell me he tried this before?"
"I was ashamed, to be honest."
He kissed me on the forehead and cradled me some more, rocking us both back and forth. "It's okay now, you're safe."
Days later, I got an urgent call from Todd.
"You need to come to the hospital, now!"
"Okay, I will be right there."
I put on my coat and rushed out the door, speeding down the street. I was at the hospital within five minutes.
I raced to the doors, and then to the elevator, pushing the number four button.
They were all standing around the bed in her room. Martha was crying softly as Todd walked up to me and said, "She's gone."
I swooned and nearly collapsed. Todd reached out and grabbed hold of me to stop me from falling.
I approached the bed and saw her lying there, eyes and mouth open. She had lost all color, and her eyes were no longer the beautiful blue hue they had been in life.
I caressed her bald scalp and took hold of her cold hand as I said to my father, "I never got a chance to say good-bye."
Even though our relationship had been rocky over the past year, I still loved her; nothing would ever take that away. In the last couple of weeks before her death, I knew she loved me too, and that's all that mattered now. My mother was no longer in pain.
"I will always love you," I whispered in her ear, and with that, I let go.
A week passed since my mother's death. The funeral service was beautiful with lilies, carnations, roses, daisies and all the other flowers you could think of. Everyone came, including friends she had when she was young. John and Jeremy kept close by my side throughout that entire day. Todd seemed to be strong, but Martha couldn't stop blubbering. My dad just sat in the corner praying, while I remained in a daze.
"I will never forget you," I said, looking at the array of pictures of her. She had been cremated and was placed inside a slender golden urn propped on the flower-laden table.
"Good-bye, Mother."
The house was quiet as Jeremy was gone. Now mid-January, the cold seemed to stick around like a drab feeling inside the house.
I showered and applied my make-up, brushing my lashes with mascara and painting my lips with an icy pink gloss. Although I was having bad bouts during the day, thinking of my mother, I didn't want to ruin my date with John.
The plan was for him to pick me up, and then we would go to a quaint restaurant in the Bayfield area. I loved the views up there, and it was a place we went to while we were still married.
John pulled up and got out of the car. He looked amazing, dressed in a thick leather jacket, jeans and black construction boots. His hair draped down the nape of his neck, and his eyes glowed from the reflection of the snow. His chiseled cheeks and arched eyebrows reminded me so much of Jeremy; just twenty years older.
I opened the door for him as a gust of snow came. He walked in and shook the snow off his boots as I wrapped my arms around him. John towered over me, smiling, and then he kissed me on the cheek.
"Your hair smells nice, like strawberries and cream," he said as he nestled his face in my soft curls.
"Oh, thanks. You look great," I replied, smiling.
I went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. "You want anything to drink before we go?"
I yelled loud enough for him to hear in the other room, but he was standing in the doorway with his coat off, giving me a certain look---a familiar look.
"Wanna just stay here tonight?" he asked, drawing me in close.
"Yes, I'd like that," I said.
I glanced back in the fridge. "How about we order in?"
"Yes, that sounds good." He brushed the hair away from my face and kissed me. "I missed you, Kat."
"I missed you too, John...so much."
"I know, Kat, I know," he replied in a loving voice.
We continued to snuggle.
"You really want to do this?"
"Yes."
"What about Natalie and the marriage and―"
John held his fingers up to my lips.
"Shh..." he whispered. "Natalie's done. I've been meaning to tell you..."
He paused for a moment and said, "It was always you."
I smiled again as warm tears came down my cheeks.
"I love you, Katherine. Always have and always will."
"Hold me," I whispered, weaving my hands with his and guiding him to the bedroom, where we lay on the bed, molding ourselves together in a passionate embrace.
Before I could close my eyes, he hugged me tighter and whispered, "Never will I let you go again."
About the Author:
Lisa was born in the U.S. and lives with her adoring husband and two beautiful kids. She has been writing extensively for the past six years. In July 2009 she earned her certificate at the Institute of Children's Literature. She has a vast array of poetry and adult short stories online and in print. This is Lisa's first novel.
You can find Lisa online at:
http://www.writingsbylisamcronkhite.blogspot.com/
and
http://www.cronkhitebooks.moonfruit.com/
Also from Eternal Press:
Justine's Auction
by Patrizia Murray
Print ISBN: 9781615722242
Contemporary Women's Romance
Theme of Breast Cancer Awareness
Short Novel of 45,841 words
Ryan helps his cancer-stricken sister Leah to conquer her disease, but he can't commit to Justine, because he fears for his sanity and their children if she or they get the disease. Figuring Justine and he have better chances with others who have no cancer history, he forgets the power of love to overcome history and fear.
Also from Eternal Press:
The Cattleman's Runaway Bride
by Karly Blakemore-Mowle
Print ISBN: 9781615721528
Romance, Contemporary
Short Novel of 50,000 words
He wants to be her future, but can she forgive the past? They say you should move on from your mistakes... but what happens when that mistake won't take no for an answer?
Table of Contents

