All Who Dream (Letting Go)

by Deese, Nicole

  “Are you alright?” He asked softly.

  No. “Yes,” I rasped.

  As Walt started to pull the car into traffic again, Jackson’s hand was slow to move off my shoulder.

  Leaning back against the seat in an effort to calm my frazzled nerves, I glanced at him. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

  His eyes captured me once again. “You’re welcome, Angela.”

  And in that moment, I wondered about the words he hadn’t spoken, the ones trapped in his gaze, his voice, and in his posture. Because sitting beside me now, was not a man full of image-driven mysteries, but a man who felt deeper and understood more than I ever dared to realize.

  Chapter Ten

  All That Remains

  I hear it like a whisper, calling out my name

  Singing ever softly, to quiet down my shame

  It beckons me to come, to leave the old behind

  To choose the narrow path, not stumble like the blind

  This pull is always constant, never has it strayed

  Even death’s dark shadow, cannot force it to the grave

  Something stirs within me, a lonely desperate plea

  Begging truth to show me, how I might be free

  I answer it in secret, fear choking me so tight

  I pray that I can choose, the way I know is right

  The promise I hear back, is the opposite of blame

  It’s a hope that surges through me, to all that still remains

  (Three years into marriage)

  The night was calm, much unlike the war that raged within me. Once I spoke the words there would be no going back. The plan would be set in motion. There were no brakes that could stop this choice once it was decided..

  Sometimes, even when you know the right thing to do, doubt still creeps in, twisting and turning until it’s voice is stronger, louder, and bolder than the truth ever was.

  That was my whole life story: one time had turned into two, which had turned into ten, which had turned into normal. My normal was wandering around in a maze of lies, and there was no way out. My escape was only a mirage in the distance; no substance to cling to, no shelter to hide under, no truth to be found.

  But everything was different now. Two words had changed me forever.

  I had to find the strength.

  I had to find the girl inside that used to hope in something more…

  I stood at his apartment door and took a deep breath. He opened it on the second knock; his face ashen with concern when he saw me. I never sought him out anymore. I never asked for his help. And now I was here, standing in front of him.

  He waited for me to speak.

  “I’m ready,” I said.

  With a stiff nod, he closed his eyes briefly, as if in a prayer. His consent was the assurance I needed. I relaxed as he pulled me into a hug. He’d always been my safe place—the only one I’d ever known.

  “When can we leave?” Briggs braced my arms with his hands as he pushed me away from his chest .

  “I need a week. I have some paperwork to file, and I need to put some cash away.”

  He exhaled hard.

  “Okay. One week. Not a second longer.”

  I nodded in agreement. It would be hard for him to wait, but I couldn’t afford to be hasty. There was too much at stake now. His eyes narrowed as he searched my face for the missing piece, for the link between the truth and the lies, for the reason behind my newfound courage.

  It had been so long since I had cried, but the tears fell anyway, undeterred.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  **********

  I’d lost count of how many restaurants we had been to, but there were many. I never thought I’d tire of gourmet food. But I was wrong.

  So very, very wrong.

  I longed for a snack-dinner; the kind made of crackers, cheese, apple slices and summer sausage, or even a nice, home-cooked, breakfast-for-dinner option. After seventeen days of being in New York, I was over the romanticism of eating out. The one interesting development was that Jackson had been accompanying us for dinner more and more, and when he showed up, he always pulled my chair out for me and took a seat at my right.

  I liked this new routine more than I cared to let myself believe.

  What amount of work must he be delegating to others in order to spend so much time with Cody and me? I dared not ask the question aloud. If there was one thing I tended to do often with Jackson, it was sticking my nose where it didn’t belong.

  We sat now with the men Jackson referred to as “the borings”. In reality, they were six older gentlemen who were current shareholders in the company, as well as board members. The seventh member, whose name I didn’t hear, was not present. Jackson seemed more than okay with that fact. Along with the six of them, sat Peter (for the sake of Cody) and four other clients and editors. I knew none of them, as they were not on the family tour. I wasn’t quite sure why we’d been invited, but I never questioned dinner plans anymore.

  We looked at our menus. Thai was the pick of the night—not my pick, but I smiled and went along with the flow. I was not a spice-fan. To be honest, I was the biggest baby about hot food, and as such, I usually avoided anything that resembled noodle dishes from the orient, but Jackson insisted I let him choose one for me. I gave him the honor and asked the waitress for an extra glass of ice water.

  Jackson laughed at my dramatics—although I wasn’t that big on drama. I was simply a realist. I knew I would drink every last drop of cool moisture.

  We sat at the far end of the table while several men debated over current stock-trading. Peter and Cody were still talking about the latest in sports, and Pippy was on a date. She had been swooning over a boy named Caleb for the past week. He had finally asked her out—today. Jackson had given her a hard time about skipping out on such an important dinner, but I saw him smile as soon as she skipped away, happy to have the night off.

  “So what do you think?” Jackson asked me as I leaned over the steamy plate of noodles covered in spicy peanut sauce.

  “Pretty good.” I pasted on a smile.

  He smirked. “You are a terrible liar.”

  “No, it is. Thank you. Good pick.” I twirled up a forkful and forced it down. Five seconds later, hot, steaming coals burned their way back up through my esophagus. I gulped water.

  “You don’t have to finish it, Angie,” he said.

  Something in the way he said my name made me smile.

  I was wearing one of my new dresses, a navy one that Pippy had selected. But even in stylish attire, I felt like an impostor next to this man in his expensive suit. Everything about Jackson seemed affluent, including his attitude in life. What I had first seen as cocky arrogance, I now envied. He was confident, collected, and self-assured—always. There was no second-guessing, no indecisiveness, and no uncertainty lurking under the surface.

  He just was. Jackson.

  “I will eat every last bite.” I lifted my chin.

  The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I’ll bet you five hundred dollars you won’t.”

  He chuckled as my eyes rounded in shock.

  “I don’t-”

  “If you win, you get five hundred cash, but if I win, I get to order your next five meals for you,” he clarified with a lop-sided grin.

  I bit my bottom lip, thinking the proposition over as my stomach churned. “Deal.”

  He smiled that crooked, sinister smile of his and echoed, “Deal.”

  **********

  I didn’t speak on the car ride home. My stomach hurt way too bad for talking—no, instead, I held my head high and waved goodbye to Jackson and Peter, five one-hundred-dollar bills in my hand. Cody pressed the elevator buttons, and my stomach heaved, but I bravely battled the nausea down. On the way up, I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall.

  As soon as I was through the door of my bedroom, I tore off the skin-tight dress and slipped into my yoga pants, hoping the elastic waist would bring some comfort—even
if just placebo comfort.

  Cody was laying on his bed reading, so I made my way to the couch with my little black journal and applied all my will-power to calming the storm that thundered inside my belly.

  I opened the journal and flipped through the pages, landing on an entry I’d forgotten.

  I had only been sitting on the couch for five minutes when the first horrendous cramp gripped my body. The wicked vice of pain was like the onslaught of labor; only a sweet newborn baby wasn’t going to be the grand finale of this ordeal. Before I could utter a word to Cody, I was running to the bathroom, Thai food revolting in my gut, ready to reveal itself a second time.

  And it did.

  The violent attack had a mind of its own, forcing me into slavery with the porcelain bowl.

  “Mom? Mom, are you alright?”

  I could hardly turn my head to see Cody standing in the bathroom that linked to my tiny bedroom.

  “I’m sick, Code.”

  “What do I need to do?” he asked.

  My hands shook as a cold sweat broke out all over my body.

  “Call Pippy…cancel tomorrow’s plans.”

  “Okay. I’ll get your phone.”

  He was gone, and a second later I heard him talking faintly in the other room. Then another round of porcelain worship came for me. Cody returned to the bathroom and draped a cold, wet washrag on the back of my neck the way I always did for him.

  “Thanks,” I rasped.

  “Do you think dinner made you sick?”

  Just the thought of Thai noodles drew a graphic answer from my stomach.

  Five-hundred dollars was not worth this.

  “I’ll be okay, Cody. You should go to bed…”

  I didn’t want him to see me like this. It was bad enough for me to have to deal with illness, but there was nothing more that he could do for me.

  “Okay…are you sure, Mom?”

  I nodded.

  I lay on the cool, tile floor, drifting in and out of consciousness, waiting for the nausea to wear off so I could go to bed. Then I heard something: a voice? My ears perked up, but a second later, I decided I must be delusional.

  I had no reference for time, just endless cycles of puke and sleep.

  As I closed my eyes I heard the voice again, this time clearer…closer…here.

  “You look awful.”

  I snapped my head up. Too fast. I gripped my skull with both hands as a sharp pain splintered my brain. Peeking with only one eye, my living, breathing, nightmare stood on display before me. I squeezed my eyes shut. I had to be hallucinating. Please, God, let me be hallucinating. But someone nudged my foot as he knelt beside me.

  I squinted up again.

  Yep. This was it: my most humiliating life moment to date.

  “Why are you here? Who let you in?” I groaned, unmoving.

  “Because you look like death. And your son, who else?” Jackson said.

  “How did—why did—”

  Speaking hurt too much. I couldn’t ask questions. I didn’t care about the answers anyway. I was too sick to worry about anything other than not vomiting on Jackson Ross. That was pretty much my only priority at the moment.

  “Pippy called me. She was worried, but she’s still out with what’s-his-face.”

  “Caleb.”

  He laughed. “Of course, you remember that.”

  He picked up the washrag that had fallen on the floor next to me and ran cool water over it, then wrung it out in the sink and handed it to me. Then he sat down. On the bathroom floor. Across from me. Me! Throw-up girl!

  I closed my eyes. “Thanks, but you should leave.”

  “You should stick to being nice. Bossy doesn’t become you.”

  I shook my head, trying to sit up, slowly. He reached toward me, but I waved him off. I wouldn’t let him touch me. I should be quarantined, not assisted by a handsome, rich CEO.

  And then I noticed what he was wearing.

  It was the first time I’d seen Jackson in anything other than a suit. He was dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. And, my word, does he look good. I shut my eyes, suddenly hyper-aware of how not-good I looked.

  “So, I think Thai food can be eliminated from our food options in the future,” he said.

  “Urgh…can you not mention food for a while, please.”

  “Sure. Do you need some water?”

  “I should probably wait a bit, but I think the worst has finally passed.”

  “Good. Do you want to move to your bed?”

  I looked at him and shook my head. There was only so much humiliation a girl could take in a single evening.

  He leaned his back against the wall and crossed his ankles. “Okay…so we’ll just sit here then.”

  “Okay.” I said, resting against the tub. “Is Cody in bed?”

  “Yes. He was reading when I knocked on the door. He told me you were in here, but that you had sent him to bed ‘cause you didn’t want him to see you sick.”

  Smart kid.

  “That’s true,” I said.

  He gave me a look I couldn’t quite identify and sighed deeply. “I had food poisoning once. I’ll never look at eggs benedict the same way again.”

  “You’re talking about food again. Can we please switch topics?”

  “Oh, right.” He chuckled. “Uh, what do you think of New York?”

  I pursed my lips, a laugh rising up through my nausea. This had to be the most ironic moment in history.

  “So this is what it takes to get you to converse with me? I look and smell like the after party at a fraternity house, and you choose now to make small talk?”

  He shrugged. “Guess so.”

  I undid my ponytail and combed through my hair with my fingers then put it back up. I was still shaky, but strength was slowly returning to my weakened body.

  “I haven’t really seen much of the city. I mean, I see a lot of traffic and a lot of restaurants, but I’m sure there’s more to The Big Apple than that.”

  “There is, although…” he shook his head as his words trailed off.

  “What?”

  His gaze swept over my face before continuing.

  “I used to think New York had some sort of magical power about it. I did a lot of traveling after college, and I always thought this would be home, that I would feel the same kind of energy forever, but I haven’t felt it for a long time. Sometimes I don’t know why I’m still here.”

  His gaze dropped away and I stilled. Those words were the most personal thing he had ever shared with me, and I didn’t want this moment to end. I didn’t want to interrupt him, not even with my quiet breaths.

  “Have you ever felt that way about a place?” he asked. “Do you feel that way about Dallas?”

  “No,” I said quietly. “I’ve never really had a place I called home. I do feel that way about a few people in my life though. But not about a place…maybe someday.”

  He nodded slowly. “I think what you have is the better of the two definitions. Finding home in relationships is much more challenging than finding it in a location.”

  “Yeah, but someday I’d love to have a place of my own. On some land…surrounded by trees and hills-”

  His eyes crinkled. “So you’re not a big city girl.”

  “Nah, but, it’s okay. I’m where I’m supposed to be for now.” I had nothing but warm feelings for my charming rental home in Texas. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I crossed my ankles and rested my head on my arms.

  “Must be some special people you have—back in Dallas?”

  I managed a weak smile. “Briggs—my brother. He’s my rock. And Rosie, my best friend. I don’t think I would be here if not for them.”

  He pursed his lips, questions clearly forming in his mind, but before he could ask any I cut him off. “I think I’m going to take a shower now. Thank you, Jackson … for checking on me.”

  “Is that your send off?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Well…uh…I’m sure you have better
things to do with your Friday night.”

  He seemed to consider the statement as he stood up. “I’m going to grab you some saltines and ginger ale from downstairs. You’ll need them to settle your stomach in a bit. Where’s your key card so I can drop them back off?”

  “Oh, uh, sure. It’s on the coffee table.”

  “Okay.”

  I shut the bathroom door and heard the door to my bedroom close a second later. Bracing myself on the vanity, I glanced in the mirror.

  Yikes!

  I was right. I shouldn’t have looked.

  Chapter Eleven

  I Once Believed

  I once believed you loved me…even when

  Your voice didn’t sooth

  Your hands didn’t comfort

  Your heart didn’t reach

  I once believed you loved me…even when

  Your footsteps instilled terror

  Your face instilled pain

  Your presence instilled sorrow

  I once believed you loved me…even when

  Your intentions lacked honor

  Your words lacked truth

  Your actions lacked conscience

  I once believed you loved me…but when

  Your rage smothered me

  Your deception smothered you

  Your addiction smothered us

  …I stopped believing.

  **********

  I stood in the shower for a long time, letting its warmth revive me. By the time I got out, I felt considerably better. At least I wasn’t suffering from a virus that might be contagious—that was the glass-half-full in this situation. I brushed my teeth for an entire five minutes and gathered my hair into a wet bun then dressed in a clean pair of comfy pants and shirt. A glance at the clock said it was just after 12:30 a.m. I had taken so long trying to wash off the smell and look of death that I was sure Jackson was long gone.

  I walked into the living area, and the room transformed into a vacuum, sucking every last ounce of oxygen inside of it.

  The second before he saw me, he was bent over the coffee table…reading…my black journal. He stood slowly as I blinked in rapid succession, trying desperately to process the mental image of him violating my privacy.