Entangled Summer (7 page)

The first week flew by in a series of trainings and getting the students settled, while fumbling my way around the puppetry department. Troy and I had spent a lot of time together, mostly going over job related stuff, and while there was nothing even remotely close to our s’mores night, I enjoyed spending time with him during the day.

When I got up the next morning, Kenzie was already mixing a drink. Not tea or coffee like a normal person would be making at 7am. Vodka.

I plodded into the kitchen rubbing my eyes. “Kinda early, no?”

“For what?” She continued to pour a few fingers of vodka into a coffee mug, and followed it with some pineapple juice. Then she grabbed a green lollipop from her candy stash on the counter and popped it into her mouth.

My stomach rolled over twice as I shuffled toward the coffee machine.

Climbing up onto the barstool at the counter she examined her schedule for the day. They arrived each morning, slid under the door, ready and waiting for us when we got up.

She looked over her programs and groaned. “Not another improv class,” she muttered around the lolli sticking out of her mouth.

“Stop complaining. How you managed to sleep your way into the drama department while I’m stuck making Pinocchios, I have no idea.” Supposedly every department had been full when we were hired, yet after one magical night with the head of the drama camp and boom, suddenly a spot opened up for her.

She giggled with pride. “I know right. And you’re the one who’s dating the owner. You should have your pick of jobs.” She winked.

I added milk and honey to my coffee then sat next to her, tucking one foot under me. “We’re hardly dating.”

“Alright, I know it’s been a while, but sequential evenings out together, alone... those are called dates.” She drew out her sentence and pronounced each word slowly.

“I’ve seen him spend time with lots of the staff Kenzie.”

“You are rockin some serious denial. He doesn’t stare at them with bedroom eyes like he does you.” She held up her hands. “Quit being all badass-no-one-can-hurt-me-again, and let it in.”

“Okay Dr. Phil. Any more love advice from someone who's never had the same guy in her bed more than twice?”

“Hey, I had that goth guy at least five times. And
so
not the point, we're discussing you and your ‘
no strings attached’
rule,” she said making air quotes. “You've got to let it go hon. Troy is real and he's pretty amazing and he's rock-hard into you, despite all of your crazy.”

I ignored her, took a sip of coffee and scanned my schedule. First off, an appointment with Dr. Strange. My turn to groan. “God. I hate these meetings.” The woman was convinced that one day my imaginary dream boyfriend was going to step into my real world. As if that was even possible. “Care to share some of your good luck? You signed on the dotted line and landed the perfect summer job. Meanwhile, I signed in my own blood then watched as Grace Strange locked my soul away in her mahogany file cabinet.”

Kenzie popped her lollipop out of her mouth. “Now who's being dramatic?”

“Easy for you to say. You're not the one they've forced into counseling, are you.”

“Did you ever stop think this could be good for you honey? That maybe the cosmos lined it up for you as a gift, not a punishment.”

“The cosmos. Are you for real right now?” I gave a sarcastic laugh. “Anyway, when have the cosmos or any other celestial body ever been on my side? They weren’t on my side when they took my parents and left me to be raised by my grandparents. They weren't on my side when they took my grandmother. And they definitely weren't on my side when they gave grandfather lung cancer and dementia one week then foreclosed on his house the next. So don't talk to me about this being part of a divine plan. It’s not. It just more of the crappy luck I've been cursed with my entire life.”

“Way to be positive, buzzkill. Just sayin, there's a higher purpose for everything Nora, including you.”

She was as serious as I'd ever heard her. But I didn't care, I was closed off to anything else she had to say. “So what's the higher purpose to making me fall in love with someone from my dreams, and branding me a lunatic? Huh?” I waved my arms around me. “What's the great plan there?”

Kenzie leaned her head against her hand, and studied me. “Hon, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’d be less tense if you had sex. Just once, even.”

Staring at her a moment, I shook my head. “Annnnd, I’m leaving now.” I slid down from the bar stool, yanked my hair back into a pony and snapped an elastic in place.

“Whoa. Just chill out. Here,” she frowned, “have a drink.” She dropped her lime green lollipop into her glass of vodka pineapple juice, and handed it to me. “You're getting all steamed over nothing. You have to meet with the counsellor, teach a few snot-nosed kiddos how to make puppets and put on a play. And heaven-forbid you might even get
fully
laid by Troy this time. A few weeks of hell, and at the end you walk away with more money than you've ever earned in your entire lifetime. So just suck it up.”

“I am sucking it up,” I said. I took a mouthful of her disgusting concoction and handed it back. “I'm here aren't I? And this is me sucking it up and going to meet with the camp counsellor. Again.”

Kenzie sighed. “Wait Nora, don't be mad.”

“Nope. Gotta go,” I waved. “The cosmos are waiting.”

I took the steps up to Grace Strange’s office two at a time. My feet slowed and then stopped when Troy caught my eye. He was exiting as I was about to enter. Grace was right behind him.

“Hey.” There was the trace of his half smile, but only a trace.

“Morning,” I said, my gaze darted to Grace, who was watching us like television.

He stepped to the left at the same time I did and we collided. Heat coursed through me and there was no way my cheeks weren’t flaming red.

“Um, sorry.”

“No, my bad.” He turned sideways and made a grand sweeping gesture with his arm. “After you.”

I laughed. “Thanks. Guess I’ll see you later. During class.” I added, as I felt Grace’s gaze intensify.

Troy gave an awkward nod, and without saying a word to Grace, he left.

I followed her down the hall into her office and waited for her to shut the door and sit down.

She folded her long fingers under her chin, and peered at me, her head cocked to the side.

Mentally I braced for whatever was coming. And something was definitely coming.

“You and Mr. Bellisaro... have you met before?”

Crap.
“What makes you ask that?” Dodging the question bought me some time to come up with a plausible answer.

“There is a certain chemistry between the two of you. A powerful connection.” Her green eyes narrowed. “So have you met? Prior to the interview?”

I squirmed in my chair, which suddenly felt tight and sticky. “Um, not that I recall.” I might as well have been strapped to a lie detector because the truth was written all over my lie. I know she saw it. She didn’t blink for a scary-long time. Then she leaned back, and rested her hands on the desk. “The only way this will work Miss Dultry, is if you are willing to be open and truthful with me.”

I cleared my throat. “I am. I just think we should concentrate on my dreams. Maybe you could start by telling me how you came to know so much about them?” I should have been a tennis pro because I’d hit the ball squarely back in her court.

“Fair enough,” she said. “I will tell you, but first I have some more questions for you. Tell me about the last dream you remember.”

Crossing one leg over the other, I leaned forward. “You mean, in detail?”

She smiled that smile I’d already grown to dislike. It meant more uncomfortably probing questions were coming.

“In as much detail as you’re comfortable sharing.”

That’s not what she really meant. If it were we wouldn’t be here at all. Because none of this was comfortable. It was dream analysis on steroids, and it was completely unnecessary.

“Would you say you have a fairly intimate relationship with this man?”

Whoa, personal
. “His name is Darcy. And yes. It’s pretty intimate. I mean, it is a dream, right.” I laughed a little.

She didn’t.

“Is it?” she asked.

I paused, and then frowned. “Isn’t it? Sorry, not sure what you’re trying to say here.”

“I asked you a simple question Nora. Is it a dream?”

“Isn’t it?”

“You cannot answer a question with a question. That’s called avoidance. Is it or is it not a dream?” she pushed.

“I think so.”

“More avoiding. Answer the question Nora.”

“Well, I mean yes of course it is, it’s just...” I swallowed and gazed out the window. “It’s never felt like a dream. It’s always felt real.”

That was why I’d kept every other guy at football field’s length. Because I was already involved with someone. The fact that he didn’t exist where anyone else could see him was merely semantics. He was real to me. And so was our relationship. Every time.

“You aren’t being completely honest with me Norah.” She pulled her glasses off and massaged the bridge of her nose. For the first time I saw a glimmer of impatience seep through her very carefully constructed mask of indifference. “In order for any of this to work, you are going to need to be straight with me.”

My blood pressure rose and so did my voice. Despite Kenzie’s pep talk, resentment took root and grew like a noxious weed. “Okay,
here’s
your honesty... I honestly don’t know why the hell I’m here. I mean in order for
what
to work exactly, what is this supposed to be for? I’m not crazy, and I don’t need therapy. I’m fine.”

Grace sighed, and pushed back her chair to stand. Then she paced to the window and back. “Yes. You’re correct. There is nothing wrong with you. But that is not what you believe, is it? You haven’t had a real boyfriend ever in your waking life. You shy away from commitments and relationships, anything at all that ties you to something, or binds you to anything long term. Your parents were killed in a crime of passion and you were raised by your grandparents. From five years of age onward, you saw the dark and violent side of love, and then watched the other side, as your Grandfather slowly went insane with grief from the loss of his wife when she succumbed to breast cancer.”

I sucked in a slow gasp, and blinked back tears. No one. I mean
no one,
knew my entire life story. How did this woman, who’d only just met me a week ago, know so much about a life I’d managed to keep hidden for years? A life I barely remembered myself, at least not the part about my parents. No one had given me much detail back then, but I remember hearing the new reporter describe it as a ‘crime of passion that took two lives’, before Granddad could reach the remote to change the station.

“You’ve witnessed both sides of love for yourself. And whether you realize it or not, you see it as a destructive force and you refuse to let it into your life. But you are wasting yours in the process.”

I slapped a fist against my thigh, tears singing the corner of my eyes. “I am here for a summer job. Why is
any
of this your concern?”

“Because.” She turned to face me, her own eyes watery from held back tears. If I wasn’t already sitting down, I might have fallen over from shock. “I know what demons plague you and I made a vow not to let the past take another girl from this world too soon.”

I shook my head. “Demons.” I repeated the word numbly. And what did she mean,
take
?

Grace Strange walked back to her desk and straightened her skirt before sitting down. She seemed to come back into herself. Back to her counselor role. Reaching across the desk she picked up a framed photograph and gave it to me. It was a girl, who looked a lot like me, only younger. Long jet hair, olive skin, round turquoise eyes the color of sea glass, like mine. I stared at the photo with a prickle of fear, and the faint sense of recognition, as if I’d seen her before. “Who is this?”

“She’s my daughter. Was. Was my daughter.” She said, taking back the photo. It was as if she feared losing her all over again if I held it for too long.

“I’m sorry. She’s so young. How did she die?” We were sharing pieces of ourselves after all, if seemed a fair question to ask.

“She didn’t die Nora. She’s just no longer here.”

“Oh. So, she moved?” I frowned. “Can’t you just go and visit, where ever she is?”

Her eyes clouded over and she gazed past me at an invisible point behind me. “Not a where. It’s a when.”

When her gaze snapped back to mine, they were razor sharp and filled with purpose.

“She chose to live in another place. A place no one can reach her ever again,” she sighed staring at the photo.

“Her dreams.”