Life Interrupted

by Yessi Smith

  He touches my face, his hand caressing me, as his voice calls to me, “You’re safe.”

  Somehow, his promise, his words, reach me.

  Slowly, my screams become less violent. Realization dawns on me, and embarrassed, I finally stop fighting.

  “I’m going to climb into bed with you.”

  I don’t answer him or open my eyes to see him. My body stiffens as the bed gives when he sits and then lies down beside me. His arms wrap around my waist and pull me closer to him. Like a sigh, my body releases the tension and curls toward him. I unclench my fists and force my breaths to come out slower.

  “When I was little, I wanted to be an astronaut,” Travis says, his lips caressing my forehead as he speaks.

  I open my eyes and listen to Travis’s voice, his tone calming me.

  “I wanted to live among the stars and see Earth from space. One day, I found a cardboard box that our neighbor had thrown out, so I hid it in my bedroom. Every night, when everyone fell asleep, I’d climb into the box and pretend it was my spaceship. I’d travel into space and go on all these missions.”

  I lose myself in Travis’s story. I stop shaking. I stop crying. I find a sense of security in the arms of a man I barely know, and I fall back asleep.

  My eyes flutter open a few hours later and I find Travis snoring lightly beside me. I stare at him, my eyes roaming over the sharp planes of his face. His eyes, light and vibrant, are closed off to me, and I wonder what, if anything, he’s dreaming about. His lips are relaxed against his face, and I’m tempted to trace my finger over them.

  His breathing speeds up, and I know the second he wakes up, but his eyes remain shut. I inch away from him, moving my eyes away from his face.

  “Don’t stop staring,” Travis says with his eyes still shut and my lips curve into a smile. “It’s not weird at all,” he adds.

  Too early for witty banter, I leave the comfort of Travis’s arms and head to the bathroom where I wash away the remnants of last night’s dream. When I leave the bathroom, I’ve worked up the courage to ask Travis if he still wants to live among the stars. It’s my way of acknowledging what he did for me.

  But I find my bed empty, and after searching the house, I note that, once again, I’m alone.

  Lost in my art and the freedom I find when facing an empty canvas I transform it into the images trapped in my brain. I don’t think about anything, except my hand and whatever it’s creating. Here, with my creativity surrounding me, I find my voice, my story, my purpose. I find myself with the tools of my own creation. This is me, my own unique spirit elevated and never compromised—at least not here, never here, amidst my art.

  The light in the room begins to dim as dawn becomes dusk, and it’s only when I have to turn on the lights in the room that I realize that I haven’t eaten all day. Regretfully, I leave my little studio to make myself a sandwich, and I find five texts from Derrick on my phone. Ignoring them, I pour myself a glass of the Argentinean wine I drank last night.

  Last night.

  Last night, watching the movie with Travis and Leeloo was…nice.

  But then they left, and one of my nightmares paid me a visit.

  I haven’t seen Travis since he left again this morning. Even though I always feel awkward around him, I miss his presence and am tempted to seek him out so that he can chase away the loneliness living inside me. Not wanting to give in to that small desire, I take my dinner to the back patio and watch the surf roll in and out. A sudden chill spreads through my bones so I scan the beach for Leeloo or Travis.

  It doesn’t happen very often, but every now and then, like now, the loneliness that I’ve become accustomed to creeps in and settles uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach. The only solution I’ve come up with is sleep. Sleep, like drawing, is an escape I look forward to unless one of my nightmares comes to haunt me. While the nightmares don’t hit me like they did when I first left the hospital, they’re still there, resting below the surface, just waiting to strike.

  Not wanting to wallow, I gaze up at the sky and look at the stars, whose promises and allure call to me. I leave my phone and the unanswered texts from Derrick, and I take my glass of wine down the rocky path to the beach where I slip off my sandals and dig my feet into the sand. Enjoying the soft rumble of the sea, I continue to look at the stars, and I let out a quiet sigh.

  “Don’t fall apart,” I tell myself, bracing my arms around my chest as the pending storm collects in my chest.

  Without preamble, Leeloo comes barreling down the beach, startling me in the process. Laughter rumbles from my belly when she rolls onto her back and wiggles herself in the sand, but Travis frightens me further when he touches my shoulder so softly that I barely feel it. After a loud shriek, Travis tentatively rests his hand on my shoulder before he takes my wine from me and takes a sip for himself.

  “Do you know how stars are born?” Travis asks, staring straight ahead into the darkness looming over the ocean.

  I shake my head and stare into the daunting black, feeling suddenly vulnerable with Travis so close to me. He puts his hand back on my shoulder, and I tremble under his touch.

  “A gaseous nebula must fall apart. It has to breakdown, and just when it thinks it’s met its destruction, a star is born.”

  Strands of my hair dance across my face when I tilt it upward to look at him, and my lungs fill with hope.

  “So fall apart.” He shrugs. “It’s the only way to be reborn.”

  “I like that,” I give him a watery smile, grateful for his words and the tension they’ve eased. “Thank you.”

  I close my eyes for a second before I continue to stare mindlessly at the sky, getting lost in the beauty of the stars. Without realizing what my traitorous body is doing, I lean on Travis and breathe in his scent, the taste of his underlying masculinity skirting on my tongue.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asks.

  No. Hell no.

  Unnerved, I move away from him, but he puts a friendly arm on my shoulder. My body tenses, but his gesture holds me in place.

  “Hey, you wanna go somewhere with me?” he asks.

  While I want to say no, I find myself agreeing. Curiosity and need coil down my spine, but it’s more than that. I want to want to go simply because I want to be around Travis with his ridiculous cocky half grin, easy demeanor, competent strong hands, and gorgeous light-brown eyes.

  “Go where?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “I don’t do well with surprises.” Ashamed, I look away from his watchful eyes.

  “All the more reason for you to go,” he continues, holding his hand out to me.

  So, I take his hand. Reluctant, but I take it, and I’m surprised when my skin becomes alive with his touch. With my heart hammering in my ears, I continue to hold his hand as he guides me back up the rocky path, past our houses, and to his golf cart. Our hands separate when I climb into the cart, but when Travis joins me, he takes hold of my hand once again and starts the cart. We ride in silence, and I concentrate on my breathing instead of his thumb caressing circles around the top of my hand that he’s still holding.

  For a moment, with our hands connected, my demons hide away.

  My breath hitches and I hold it in, when Travis turns into a large empty space of gravel and puts the cart in park. My neck tightens in fear and know I will have yet another knot to add to my ever-growing collection of neck and back spasms. I fight the urge to run, to escape, and squeeze Travis’s hand instead.

  There’s nothing to fear, I assure myself.

  Hoping my voice doesn’t quiver, I ask, “Where are we?”

  “A deserted airport,” he responds, smiling at me.

  “What are we doing here?” I tremble, certain he can hear the sound of my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest.

  “Watch,” he says.

  He turns off the golf cart’s headlights. A billow of black engulfs us, consumes me. Awareness slams with the beat of my heart, fast and painful.
Terror tears through my limbs, blood draining from my face, rushing to my ears.

  I finally listen to my brain and run. Travis is close behind me, his footsteps loud, but I’m prepared to fight, so I stop and face him, determined to win, to never be a victim again.

  “Calm down, Holly.”

  Even in the pitch black, I can see that he has his hands in the air, a sign of retreat.

  Ready to fight, I keep my guard up, but the adrenaline that coursed through my veins seconds ago is already squandering off. I’m left emotionally empty and tired. Travis keeps his hands up and approaches me, his movements slow, his breath shallow.

  Berating myself for my foolish reaction, I sit on the ground and look at anything but the man who makes me all-too aware of a multitude of things within seconds. My breathing steadies but I keep my eyes averted, so I don’t have to see the concern or sympathy in Travis’s eyes.

  “Turn on the lights, Travis,” I plead with him.

  I hate the dark. He would leave me alone in the dark for days, and eventually, I lost track of time. Day became night, both united by eternal darkness.

  Tears spill over, and I roughly wipe them away, hating each tear trickling down my cheek.

  “Okay,” he responds.

  In the darkness, I hear him walking away until his body disappears into the black mass of the night.

  I let out a loud whoosh of air I’d been holding onto when I see the lights flash on, and I become even more aware of how ridiculous I acted. Like the psychopath that I am. If the earth were to open up right now, I’d willingly jump in.

  Except the earth’s opening would probably be dark. I sigh. And I don’t do well with darkness.

  “Are you okay?” Travis asks once he’s seated beside me.

  I shrug my shoulders. “I have this weird phobia with the dark,” I say lightly, as if psychotic breakdowns were normal.

  “Yeah.” He laughs and runs his hands over his face. “I guess my surprise kind of sucked.”

  Despite myself, I laugh. “What was your big surprise anyway?”

  “The stars,” he says, gazing upward. “You’re always looking at them from your back patio, and when I saw you on the beach tonight, I wanted you to see them from here since there’s no light around.”

  I look up at the sky and see thousands of stars, but I know the light from the golf cart is obscuring thousands more from our view. I want to see them. But more, I want to not be afraid, for my captor to not have this strangling hold over me.

  Fighting through the sudden nausea, I reach for Travis’s hand, finding the courage I lacked moments ago. This is the man who came into my house when he heard my screams and calmed me with a story about a little boy and his stars.

  “Show me,” I whisper.

  He doesn’t question my request. He doesn’t make me feel awkward or stupid. He just helps me to my feet, and together, we head back toward the golf cart. I watch him as he reaches for the switch to turn the lights back off, and my knees weaken.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  My chest heaves and tightens in response. I close my eyes to the world before I nod my head.

  Within seconds, everything goes black, and terror sets back in. My breathing quickens, so I shut my eyes tighter, forcing tears to seep through from the corners of my eyes. But Travis maintains a firm grip on my hand, pulling me back to safety.

  “Look up,” he whispers into my ear.

  After a moment’s hesitation, I do.

  And I forget that I’m scared. With Travis’s hand still holding mine, I walk away from the golf cart until I’m in the center of the empty airport. Again, I look upward to the heavens and my chest releases the remaining fragments of angst. The stars and the scent of the nearby ocean envelop me, my fate no longer within my grasp.

  Travis stills the terrors, calms my soul. While I enjoy his hand in my own, the warmth it brings me competes with the cold shivers running down my spine whenever we share the same space. I want to feel his arms wrap around me, but I know distress would quickly settle in, leaving me to look like the madwoman that does in fact live inside me.

  He’s already seen the crazy in me, I remind myself, and he didn’t run away from it.

  So, maybe there is hope for us, assuming he wants there to be an us—or that I want there to be an us.

  But why dwell on such nonessentials that I have no control over?

  For now, I’ve decided to trust him and enjoy the magic he has shared with me. So, I inch my way toward him, close enough that our shoulders touch, and I look up with the certainty that someone is looking down at me.

  “This is amazing,” I speak, finally breaking the silence between us.

  “I thought you’d like it,” he says.

  He bends his knees, lowering himself to the asphalt below us, and takes me with him. Once on the ground, he moves his body until he is lying down, facing upward. I follow his lead, and with my head resting on my arms, I stare up at the sky.

  “So, Casanova,” I start, “name the stars I’m looking at.”

  “That’s simple, princess,” he says.

  I sense him smiling at me, so I grin back at him and his silly pet name for me.

  “That there is Polaris,” he says, pointing at the sky but not making much of an effort to point out a particular star.

  “Oh, yeah?” I ask, looking at him rather than the sky. “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely,” he says, looking back at me, still pointing at the sky but now in a different direction than where he originally pointed.

  My lips stretch into a bigger smile, enjoying the sudden lightness of the evening. Content that while my fear of the dark will surely return, I’ve been able to push it away into hiding for a short while. Maybe it’ll stay hidden so well that I’ll barely notice it.

  “Show me another one.”

  “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. He looks back up at the sky, probably trying to remember the name of another star. “Over there,” he says, pointing in another direction, “is where the Big Dipper starts—”

  “No,” I interrupt him, suddenly submerged in the memory of my dad showing me where the constellations are.

  I take a deep breath and press my lips together to form a thin line. The memory is so clear that I see as if I were there, a little girl with her dad.

  We were in the backyard, a small opening in Poppa’s yard just before the trees took over the land. My head was resting on my dad’s arm while he pointed out the stars with his free hand. Romance and stargazing—that was how he’d won over my mom. The surrounding trees and the land my dad worked on mingled with his favorite cologne, and the smell overtook my senses.

  I breathe in deeply, wanting the memory to last longer.

  With my heart doing backflips in my chest, I grab Travis’s hand and lead it until he’s pointing at the Big Dipper. “There she is,” I whisper, not realizing how close we are. I continue to guide his hand until he reaches Polaris. “That’s Polaris.” My smile stretches so wide that my cheeks actually begin to hurt.

  “Okay, Casanova,” he repeats my words back to me, “what else is out there?”

  What else? That’s a good question.

  “Hercules,” I respond. I see the white of his teeth gleaming back at me. “Not you.” He resembles Thor, not Hercules. “I know where Hercules is,” I clarify.

  “Show me,” he whispers into my ear.

  I back away, finally realizing just how close our bodies are to one another.

  As I clear my throat, I hope it will also clear my head, but it doesn’t. No longer a mechanism capable of thought, my mind is full of a fogginess that is a direct result of Travis, his charm, and the electricity bouncing from my body to his. I don’t know how I got here, but I know I can’t stay.

  “Another time.” I cut our stargazing short and get up from my position on the ground.

  Chilled, I wrap my arms around my shivering chest and try to gather my scattered mind. I hope there will be another time and that I’ll be mo
re prepared to smother my fear. My soul splinters when we climb into the golf cart, and already I yearn for the quiet contentment I found in an abandoned parking lot as it fades away on our drive back home.

  It’s dark, so dark that I can’t see anything but the black before me. My swollen eyes can’t adjust, leaving me blind to my surroundings. The cold overtakes my body until I am shivering and wishing for the heat of my fireplace.

  I miss Poppa and the safety of the home we shared. But more, I miss the warmth the house provided—not just from the fireplace, but also from my family who lived there with me—or used to live there. Mom and Dad are gone now, and their absence leaves my heart brittle and our home lacking in the laughter Mom held inside her.

  The harsh coldness from the restraints on my wrists and ankles or the sores those restraints have tainted on my skin no longer exist. How can they when the bitter frigidness inside me is so much stronger than any restraints?

  I’ll die here. I’m sure of it. My will to survive, to go back to Poppa so that he’s not alone, can’t hold on forever, not when the callous foreboding is becoming a welcome friend.

  Feverish, my eyes fly open, shaking, and with cold sweat dripping off my body I sit up on the bed and try to catch my breath.

  It was just a dream, I remind myself. Just another bad dream.

  The memory of it quickly disappears, and I try to hold on to the remaining tendrils before it’s completely gone. But all I remember is the darkness and despair. I frown, not wanting to succumb to the desperation of the dream.

  I was tied up, something I already know. And it was dark, so no new information there. But along with the fear, there was something else.

  Once the shaking stops, I wrap myself in my blanket and wait for the sun to rise on my back patio.

  With a strongly brewed cup of coffee in hand, I open the patio door and sink into my favorite chair. I keep my blanket wrapped around my body as I hold the cup of coffee, letting the heat from the cup warm me. With my eyes set forward, I bring the cup close to my face and breathe in the heat and the alluring aroma of fresh coffee.