Bring Me Back (2 page)

It was mid October, and the leaves had already begun changing.  Fall and winter came earlier here in the mountains, and I loved it.  I always found summer suffocating, like I couldn’t breathe, and that was something I didn’t handle well.  Winter gave me comfort.  Being able to feel the bitter cold makes things feel
real
for me.  When you’re as messed up as I am, knowing the difference between what is real and what is not is essential.

I finished the most recent layout of the table somewhere around 10:30 p.m.  I still wasn’t happy with it, but I knew it was time to step away and come back later.  If I continued to work over it I would become obsessed.  I needed to clear my head.  Time for my run.

Chapter 4

~Ian

I had been in my new home for over two weeks and had not seen any movement from the neighbor’s house, other than a young man delivering groceries.   I was extremely relieved.  I didn’t wasn’t to know my neighbor, I didn’t want to have to make small talk with someone, answering questions like “
What brings you to this area?”
I had skirted around this question while shopping in town.  Somehow I didn’t think the young women batting their eyelashes at me would appreciate the truth, “
Well, I just watched my one and only true love suffer and die, so I thought I needed a break.”

I had been able to keep myself fairly occupied with work during the day.  Evenings were the hardest for me.  The time span between finishing up with work and going to bed seemed to drag on forever.  This was the time that hurt the most.  I never stopped thinking about Laney, and it scared me that I had trouble remembering her as the vibrant, healthy young woman that she once was, and could only seem to picture her at the end—frail, sunken cheeks, sparse hair and in pain. It was like a nightmare that I lived over and over each day. One that I was sure I could never wake up from. 

***

I pulled away from everyone and everything I had known, including both my family and Laney’s family.  It was too painful to see them, and the pity they had in their expressions.  My parents had been almost smothering for a time, but since I had moved, they have settled for a brief email exchange each week.  It was all I had to give, and I think they finally understood that.  I know it was hard on my mom.  She wanted to
fix
things, and it drove her crazy that she couldn’t fix this, fix me.  I was broken beyond repair.

I must have dozed off because when I opened my eyes it was dark.  I hadn’t turned on any lights before, and the only light I could see now was from my own front porch light and across the shared gravel drive shining off of my neighbor’s house.  I stood up and grabbed my watch that I had set on the end table.  I rubbed my eyes and realized it was almost 1:00 a.m. 

Walking across the room, I decided to step out and clear my head with some fresh air.  The air was crisp and felt great.  I closed my eyes, allowing the breeze to wash over me, bathing me in cool mountain air.  After several minutes I opened my eyes, feeling better and ready to head back inside. Without warning, something jumped out from the trees right in front of my porch.  I stumbled back and almost completely fell before righting myself and grabbing the rail.  It took me a moment to realize it was a small woman.  She stopped and looked at me, frozen with a look of such fear on her face, that
I
almost felt guilty for being there.  Without a word or another glance, she ran to her porch and disappeared inside the house next door. 
Welcome to the neighborhood,
I thought as I walked inside, what kind of woman goes running at midnight through the woods?

Chapter 5

~Ally

I had created a trail where one had never been.  My runs had become the closest thing to therapy that I could tolerate.  It didn’t make sense, but even the darkest of nights didn’t scare me, not while I was running. I could stare at the darkness, feel the darkness and I could run this path almost completely out of habit at this point.  The only time the darkness was dangerous, was when I closed my eyes.  I haven’t had a nightmare in a couple of weeks.  I have managed to get just enough rest during the day that I have been able to make it through the night without falling asleep.  This was essential. 

Tonight the air felt amazing!  I felt free, running with the wind, melding myself into one with it.  I could hear the nocturnal animals that I had become so accustomed to.  There had been times when I ran close to sunrise where my path had crossed that of a deer or two.  One time I stood just feet from one, staring for minutes without either of us looking or moving away.  It seemed like we were looking in a mirror.  Two scared beings, not willing to turn our back on each other.  Knowing that turning your back on something or someone often leaves you more vulnerable.  I prefer to know what is coming at me.  If I am in danger, I want it to hit me straight on, not in the back of my head, on my knees where I couldn’t to a damn thing.

I continued to run, picturing patterns and designs in my head.  I had gotten some of the clearest design ideas on my runs, and I was hoping to get just enough vision to complete this table that had been a source of frustration for me the last week.  Mr. Roberts had expressed a personal interest in the table I was working on, sight unseen of course, but he valued my work and was ready to buy it for his personal sunroom when I was done.  I was beginning to wonder if that was ever going to happen.

I had circled around, heading back.  I passed by the large stump that had become a landmark to me, reminding me that just around the bend I would need to turn to the right and break out of the trees to make it back to my house. 
Pat-pat-pat-pat….
The sound of my feet hitting the ground had me almost mesmerized, like the sound of a metronome as I broke through the trees. 

***

It took me only moments to realize I wasn’t alone.  My heart literally felt like it stopped as I watched the tall blonde man stumble backwards on the porch of the neighboring house down the drive from mine.  Again with the deer analogy, that is all I could compare myself to, a deer in the headlights.  He grabbed onto the rail and steadied himself, looking at me with a look of shock, like he hadn’t ever seen another person before.  I stood un-moving, frozen for moments.  Fear so intense, had taken over me as I stared at the stranger who obviously belonged where he was when I so obviously did not.   The nausea and light-headedness began to creep in.  I could hear my own blood pumping in my ears.  Gathering all my strength, I ran.  Running up my porch and into my house, I collapsed against my door, shaking so profusely that I wasn’t sure it would ever stop.

I sat there trembling, slowly rocking myself hearing the song my mom sang that night, the night she died. 

Goodnight, my angel
Now it's time to dream
And dream how wonderful your life will be
Someday your child may cry
And if you sing this lullabye
Then in your heart
There will always be a part of me
Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabyes go on and on...
They never die
That's how you
And I
Will be

I never hear these lyrics until I’m so far gone that I can’t cope.  One of my therapists told me to try to think of something
else
when these lyrics pop into my head, that they are a trigger.  She was a moron, and I told her that. That was the end of that one.

Now I rock, my eyes are closed so tight that sometimes my eyelids inadvertently flip inside out and I have to run my fingers over them to right them, to keep them from drying out, because I don’t cry.  I haven’t cried since that night, when the pleading and tears fell on deaf ears. The night my mom and dad died….The night I was supposed to die too.  The lyrics play over and over in my mind, bringing me down, slowly back to the moment.  The moment that I will realize once again just how screwed up I really am.

Chapter 6

~Ian

When I moved into this house I asked the realtor about my neighbor, she assured me she wouldn’t be an issue, and she wasn’t, in fact, I had basically forgotten there was even a neighbor.  Up until this night I had never even seen her.  I had come and gone freely over the past two weeks.  Other than the young man with the groceries, no one came or left that house.  Normally I wouldn’t be giving this a second thought, except the look of fear I had seen in her eyes had startled me, who the hell am I kidding, it had rocked me to the core. I watched as she ran, tripping up her porch stairs and almost falling through her door.
Who runs at night?
  I thought again.  I tried to shake off the unorthodox behavior of my petite neighbor. I needed to get some rest.

I never know what kind of sleep I will have from night to night, but the occasional dreams of Laney that are so real, so incredibly vivid of her healthy, that I wake up choking with sobs, begging to fall back to sleep, for just one more moment with her, those are the dreams that give me the strength to sleep.  The nights of nightmares unfortunately are much more common.   They remind me of an earthquake—they shake me up pretty bad, and just when I think they are over, I find that the aftershocks hurt so much worse.

***

I had a busy day ahead.  There were several projects I needed to deliver to the office, and some things to pick up in town, as well as groceries.  I left early, not wanting to be away for too long.  I find it so exhausting to hold it together.  When I’m home, at least I know that if I break, I can let go. There is nothing that makes others as uncomfortable as a grown man crying.  Men don’t know how to react to that, so they return to basic comforts.  If I had consumed or eaten everything my male family members had offered me when I cried, I would be a 400 pound alcoholic. I don’t live to make people uncomfortable, really I don’t, I just
can’t
care.  I can’t give anything more to anyone else right now when I’m barely keeping myself from completely falling apart.

I swing by the office, shake hands and make small talk.  My boss is impressed with my work, and hands me several other projects to complete.  “The mountain air must agree with you.”  He says smiling at me.  I feel like I’ve been punched it the stomach.  I want to scream that nothing agrees with me anymore, that I am dying myself, but I pull it together long enough to get out of the building to my car.   I wish I could stop these tears, stop the pain in my heart, but I can only stop all of that by keeping my mind from thinking of her, and that I couldn't do. If I didn’t know any better, I would think grief was a sign of weakness—I prefer to think it is the price of love.

***

I swing by the hardware store to pick up a few things I need for the house.  The porch has some areas in need of desperate repair, from the years it stood empty, taking the brunt of the weather.  I love the small old-fashioned hardware stores.  There is something about walking down the aisles, and finding things that the big chain stores won’t sell.  After finding what I came in for, I head to the checkout counter to pay, and as I hand the cashier my credit card, he asks for ID.  I’m getting used to this, and finding that until I am perceived as one of the “locals” I will have to go through this song and dance.

 “Hmph, you must be in the house next to Ally?”  The older gentleman was peering at me over his glasses.  “I’m really not sure, to be honest, I have not met my neighbor.”  I say, knowing that sounds bad, but I can’t think of a viable excuse without going into my life story, and after one breakdown so far today, I decide against an explanation, so instead I just smile.  “Well, I would have been surprised if you had actually.  Ally keeps to herself.  I only mentioned it because I have a delivery for her, and was hoping you might be willing to save me a trip out there.”  He was eyeing me, and I felt obligated to agree.  “Of course.”    After proper introductions, Mr. Reddy handed me a paper sack full of glass cutting tools and grout, and with a clap on the back and an appreciative “Thank you,” I am on my way.