Dreaming a Reality (6 page)

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.

Chapter Nine

“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?

Chapter Ten

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.”