Destiny Gift

by Juliana Haygert

No, no, this had not happened. Once more, a vision tried to tell me something, to show me something, and I had been prevented from going after it.

  How the heck would I find out what it was now?

  Chapter Seven

  “Nadine.”

  I turned and found Cheryl crossing the street to where I stood on the sidewalk outside the university café.

  “Nad, how are you?”

  “Good, I think,” I mumbled, unsure of what to say. I glanced at my watch. I had six minutes before my shift started.

  “You know, I was thinking about what happened at the bookstore that other day. You never explained to me what that was,” she said, then hesitated, probably expecting I would snap at her and not elaborate. Cheryl had seen me tune out a few times, and I always pretended nothing happened. “Should I be worried?”

  “It’s nothing.” I forced a smile. “You don’t need to worry about these episodes. Probably low blood sugar.”

  “Come on.” Cheryl placed a hand on my back and pushed me into the café. Inside, she sat at her usual spot. “Tell me the truth, how are you?”

  “I’m fine.” I stepped toward the door that led to the back.

  “Nadine,” Cheryl called after me.

  I guess after years as a therapist, Cheryl had learned a few tricks about how to know when someone was lying.

  I took a deep breath before turning back to glance at her.

  “About your episode, I may know someone who can help. I have his card right here.” She opened her purse and rummaged through the contents.

  I shook my head. “It’s nothing, Cheryl. Don’t worry. I don’t need any help.”

  She extended the card. “Just take it, in case you change your mind.”

  I pushed it away and gave her my back, ashamed for not being able to break through whatever held me back and trust my friend.

  My gaze ended up outside the café where a large black raven perched on a tree branch. It had a scar over one eye. With goose bumps running up my spine, I ran to the back of the café.

  ***

  For the fourth consecutive day, I visited NYU’s north gate before the start of my classes, hoping the feeling would come back. Nothing. I dared to cross the street the last two times, but that had not helped either. Perhaps that weird tug inside me hadn’t meant anything.

  I was about to head back inside the campus when a taxi passed me with a number painted on its side: 816. The light radiating from the number eight was strong and pure.

  I approached the guard at the gate. “Do you see anything unusual about that cab? On its number?” I asked, pointing toward the passing taxi.

  Jim, the same guard who saw me speak with Micah the other day, shook his head. “No, ma’am. What should I see?”

  “Nothing,” I answered quickly. “I think my eyes are tired.”

  Should I give in and admit I was hallucinating? I could always open up to Cheryl and accept the card she offered the other day.

  Focused on my dilemma, I walked on, not paying attention to anything. The sudden sound of cawing startled me. I fought against the urge to look up. I didn’t want to see the raven. I didn’t want to think it was following me. I told myself it was a harmless black bird, lost and hungry.

  I didn’t realize I had been running until I entered the building and rested against a wall, wheezing and shaking.

  “Did you see a ghost?” Micah’s voice startled me.

  “What are you doing here?” The hallway was crowded and many students stared at me. I tried to compose myself as the girls gawked at Micah and glared at me.

  He leaned on the wall, hands inside his leather jacket. His face was a mask with a sly grin, but his black eyes seemed pained.

  “Just came to say hi.”

  “Hi,” I snapped. “Now bye.” I walked past him, not wanting to give him a chance to ruin my day. The other two times I had talked to him, he made me forget about everything else. About Victor. I couldn’t allow his charm to take me over so easily.

  “Hey.” Micah grabbed my arm and pulled me back until I was right before him. “Why the rush?” he asked, his delicious vanilla and sandalwood scent washing over me.

  The endless black pools of his pupils met me.

  “I have class,” I breathed, feeling dizzy.

  “I’ll let you go.” He released my arm, but then extended his hand. “But could you hold my hand first?”

  I stared at his hand. “Why?” I looked up, and the pain I thought I saw in his eyes grew clear.

  “Please,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

  “All right.” I didn’t know what holding his hand would do, but I wouldn’t be a brat if he was in pain.

  As I was about to take his hand in mine, getting ready to feel the shock that came with it, Raisa showed up beside me.

  “Nad, you didn’t introduce me to your friend,” she said, flipping her hair and smiling like a model. With anguished eyes, he glanced at me and let his hand fall to his side. “So?” She bumped her shoulder against mine.

  “Raisa, Micah.” I beckoned from her to him. “Micah, this is Raisa, my roommate.” Our moment already forgotten, he turned toward Raisa with a wide and perfect smile.

  Raisa let out a dreamy sigh the moment he shook her hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Raisa.”

  “Nice to meet you too.” She giggled. “How come I’ve never seen you before?”

  “I’m new in town.” It seemed he had pressed a button that was labeled “pain off, charm on.”

  I intruded before Raisa let her boldness take over and invited him out. For some reason, I was afraid of hearing Micah’s answer to her request. “We should be going or we’ll be late.” I pushed her, trying to pry her from the gorgeous Israeli model standing before us.

  “Bye, Micah,” Raisa said in a singsong tone. I kept pushing her down the hall.

  “Bye, girls.” I didn’t bother turning around to look at him.

  “What a hunk,” she exclaimed once we were inside the classroom. “How come you never told me about him?”

  I rolled my eyes as I took my usual seat in the back. “I just met him.”

  “Yeah, and? Come on! No girl would meet a guy like him and not report to her best girlfriend.”

  That was the thing Raisa didn’t understand. She was a good friend, but I wasn’t sure I had any best friends. I didn’t feel comfortable talking about my classes, my grades, or my family, and I certainly didn’t like to gossip and get together to talk about hot guys—or to confess about my visions. I just wanted to be alone with my visions of Victor. Besides, if she knew how crazy I was, she wouldn’t want me to be her best friend.

  Raisa’s friends came into the classroom and ran to us, huge smiles wreathing their faces.

  “You guys won’t believe who we saw yesterday,” Martha said, taking her seat beside Raisa.

  “Who?” Raisa asked.

  “The blond guy from the club.” Martha clapped her hands together.

  “Folks,” the instructor called. He waited until the class settled, then spoke in a somber tone. “The university has been informed of some disturbing news, and students will be dismissed from school for today.” General ovation took over, but with raised hands, the instructor managed to shut everyone up. “This isn’t for fun, people. Early this morning, the body of a student was found outside campus, near Madison Square. It seems the girl was assaulted, raped, and then killed.”

  Like me, the whole class gasped. My stomach hurt as if I’d been punched.

  Someone asked, “What’s her name?”

  “I think most of you knew her.” The instructor swallowed hard. “The victim was Sarah Cunnings.”

  Oh my God. Nausea swirled in my stomach. Sarah had been in most of my classes since I started NYU.

  More students asked questions, including where she’d been found and when and where her funeral would be. I seemed to have lost my voice.

  The professor continued talking about Sarah’s death and her family’s arr
angements for her funeral.

  “That’s it,” he finished. “You may go now. And be careful.”

  He left, followed by my classmates, who exited silently.

  I remained glued to the chair for a few seconds longer, trying to make sense of the news.

  In my backpack, my cell phone vibrated. Shaking off the awful images in my mind, I picked it up, answered the call, and listened to the message.

  “Who was it?” Raisa asked from behind me. I hadn’t registered she’d stayed.

  “The hospital. They lost my curriculum and want me to go there and give them a new copy.”

  “What time does your shift start?”

  I was still baffled, my mind moving in slow motion. It took me a moment to think it through, to figure out what time it was now and what time my shift started.

  “After this class.” I looked at my wristwatch again. “In about forty minutes.”

  “So you’re going to the hospital right now?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “You don’t need to.”

  “Are you kidding? After what happened to Sarah? I’m not leaving you alone.”

  I flinched. I had forgotten about Sarah. I felt sick. “Guess my mind is somewhere else.”

  “I’ll go, but we have to get a cab.”

  The cab left us right at Langone’s main door.

  “It won’t take long, right?” Raisa asked, crossing her arms. I did the same, wishing I had a thicker jacket. “Your shift starts soon.”

  “I know.”

  For some reason, my head snapped to the right, just as a silver car drove around a corner. It approached the hospital and advanced toward the garage, right beside the hospital’s main door. When the car was close enough, I realized it was a gray Audi A3.

  I froze. It couldn’t be.

  The vehicle cruised to the garage’s entrance. Its dark windows prevented me from seeing the driver. Paralyzed, I watched it proceed to the end of the first level—where there were a few empty spots—and park near an employee-only entrance.

  The driver opened the door and stepped out.

  My breath caught in my throat. My heart skipped a few precious beats. Raisa stood beside me and I clutched her arm, steadying my wobbling knees.

  “Hey! That’s the guy I told you about,” she said. “The one at the club last week. Martha and Susan told me his name. It’s—”

  “Victor.”

  Chapter Eight

  Victor Gianni, with his honey-colored hair, entrancing sea-green eyes, imposing figure, and his impeccable posture, stood next to his car. In my world. Not in a vision.

  “How do you know his name?” Raisa asked.

  Unable to find my voice, I shrugged. Besides, how could I answer that I had dreamed about him for the last nine months. And, until now, I had no idea he actually existed.

  Nonetheless, there he was.

  I squinted, analyzing him. His physical appearance, the car, and the setting were known to me, and yet he seemed different.

  In my dreams, he was buoyant and romantic. He smiled and winked and spun me around imaginary ballrooms and danced with me in the middle of the street. He was my Prince Charming, born to make me happy, to be my best friend, and some day, to be my lover.

  All in all, he was a very different guy from the one standing before me in the real world. The in-the-flesh Victor wore a worried crease on his forehead. He seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. I wanted to reach out, to comfort him, to help him. With blue jeans, a stark white polo, and brown boat shoes, he looked more like a mama’s boy than Romeo.

  He spun and his gaze swept across the garage—across me—but his glance didn’t linger on me for more than one second. I gasped as pain stabbed my chest. He didn’t know me.

  He turned his attention to his car. From the backseat, he fished out a brown jacket, which he folded over his arm. He retrieved a card from the pocket and used it to open the hospital access door.

  That was when my legs regained energy and I ran like crazy. I forgot about Raisa, about my job, about everything. I dashed toward that door. I couldn’t let him get away. I had to find out why he didn’t know who I was.

  I almost didn’t reach the door in time, but a nurse stepped outside and propped it open. I inched my way inside Langone.

  In the cold atrium, I found myself disoriented. Too many people, too many corridors and doors, and an intense smell of anesthetics that made me nauseous. And he was nowhere to be seen. My breath came in short gasps as I searched for him.

  This was too much. The dizziness and the anxiety took over. I found a staircase, sat on the lower step, and put my head between my knees.

  “Are you okay, miss?” a woman asked me. Moving cautiously so I wouldn’t puke, I lifted my head and saw a chubby nurse with a kind smile. “You’re very pale.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. I knew too well I wouldn’t be all right until I found Victor.

  “Are you here alone?” she asked, patting my shoulder.

  I shook my head. “I came with my friend.”

  “Do you need help getting to your friend?”

  “No, I just need a few minutes alone.” I tried smiling, though I was sure it didn’t look good.

  “Well, if you need anything, the nurses’ station is right over there, at the end of the hall.” She pointed to her right.

  I nodded, and when she walked away, I returned my forehead to my knees.

  Oh my God. My head spun, and there was no way I could think this through. Desperate tears filled my eyes as I considered the possibility I was losing my mind and whether I should get up and head toward the psychiatric ward. My mind now played tricks while I was awake. No visions needed anymore. How much of this could I take? I didn’t want to find out.

  “There you are.” Raisa sat beside me. “What the hell was that?”

  I shrugged, not sure what to tell her.

  My cell phone rang. It was Adam. Reluctantly, I took the call, only to hear him ream me out.

  “You’re twelve minutes late,” he yelled. “Drag your butt here right now, or I’ll tell our manager about the freak things you do.”

  “I’ll be right there,” I mumbled, disconnecting before he could scream even less pleasant words.

  My mind whirled with confusion as Raisa and I left through the same door. I had hallucinated—no way was Victor real. Nonetheless, at the garage, I realized two things. First, his car was still parked there, so I had not imagined that. Second, Raisa was beside with me and she had seen him and confirmed his name.

  Still, I felt heartless, soulless. Victor didn’t know me.

  ***

  At the café, the minutes dragged on forever. I couldn’t concentrate on any task. I prayed for Cheryl to show up and help distract my busy mind, but that didn’t happen.

  Three hours gone, with three more to go. I couldn’t take it anymore. Pretending to be sick, I asked to go home. When my boss let me leave, I ran to the nearest campus gate and took a cab back to the hospital.

  My hands sweated, and my whole body shook when I entered the garage. I was afraid Victor’s car wouldn’t be there anymore.

  What now? I had felt compelled to check if his car was still there, but what else? I hadn’t thought it through and I was outside the hospital in the cold and dark. God, what was happening to me? Was I losing all reason?

  The need to know if the man I’d seen was Victor prevented me from going home. I hid along a wall where people would not see me while I kept an eye on his car. And I waited.

  To pass the time, I got out a book and tried to read. After rereading the same paragraph six times, I gave up and stashed it inside my tote. Next, I tried playing a silly game on my phone, but kept messing it up. Then, I hummed some songs I liked.

  Cramps shot up my legs when I heard that damned bird cawing from outside the garage. I left my hideout and stepped onto the sidewalk, ignoring the fact it was already night—not that the darkn
ess was much different from daytime, but there were more sinister individuals haunting the night. Trying to find the raven and keeping an eye out for the bats, I looked around.

  The raven flew toward me from out of nowhere. I yelped and fell on my butt.

  “Stupid winged thing,” I cursed under my breath. I got up and looked around to see if it would charge again.

  The bird was nowhere I could see.

  “Damn it,” someone muttered from behind me.

  The hairs on my arms stood on end. I knew that voice—Victor.

  It was him. It was Victor. God, he was here. I ran toward him, but halted when I saw him crawling to his car, one of his hands over his chest, panting as if breathing hurt too much. I watched, frozen.

  He seemed unaware of my presence. Groaning, he kept crawling to his car until he was a few feet from the door. He collapsed on the cement floor, and his whole body shook.

  That was when I snapped out of my trance and ran the rest of the way to him, fear and worry heightening my adrenaline.

  “Oh my God, Victor, what’s happening?” I asked, hearing the tears in my voice. “Please, talk to me. What is happening?” I knelt beside him.

  “Leave me alone,” he croaked, trying to push me away. As if the gesture could lessen the pain, he pressed his eyelids together. “Just go away.”

  “I won’t.” I bent over him. As gently as I could, I touched his face to try to steady him, but when my skin touched his, a warm shock passed from me to him. He took a deep breath. His body stopped jerking.

  As if suddenly filled with renewed energy, he surged to his feet and retreated several feet. I remained kneeling on the cement.

  “I told you to leave,” he snapped.

  I flinched. Not in all the months of dreaming about him had I thought Victor would snap at me.

  “You seemed to be in pain, Victor. I couldn’t just leave,” I said, finally standing.

  “How do you know my name?” he asked, groping at his jeans. He then pulled out his wallet, glanced at it, and stashed it inside his back pocket once more. “What did you do?” He touched his face, where my hands had been a second ago.

  “What do you mean? What did I do?” I asked, more confused by the minute.