Meet Me in the Garden

by Rosa Sophia

  His lips were soft and inviting, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. He kissed her gently at first, and she responded by closing her eyes and allowing herself to fall against him. He moved his hands around her head to grip her, entangling his fingers in her hair, and a sudden rush of passion engulfed them.

  It ended as quickly as it had begun. He let her go, taking care to comb her hair back with his fingers. She opened her eyes, poised as if expecting more. When he only looked at her, as if watching for a reaction, she stiffened and glanced away, her heart pounding.

  A breeze rushed across the sweat that beaded on her forehead. Images from her dreams took hold and refused to let go. The touch of his fingers against her skin seemed to linger, and a shock of pain crossed her face. She steadied herself by leaning against the rail.

  “Amalie, are you okay?” He reached out and gripped either side of her, holding her by the arms.

  “Yeah, I…the pain again.”

  “You were okay until now. Just rest a minute.”

  “It’s those dreams. They just sneak up on me.”

  “What do you mean? You’re not dreaming, Am, this is real.”

  “That’s not what I mean. It’s like I told Doctor Lee. Sometimes I flash back to them and—”

  Should I tell him? Or will he shrug it off like the doctor did?

  “Amalie, let’s walk back to the car.” He slipped his arm around hers and they walked slowly along the boardwalk, back the way they’d come.

  “You’ve been nervous since the first time we went out together.”

  “I admit it.” He shrugged his shoulders as they stepped off the wooden planks and onto the dry dirt. Tall grasses rose on either side of them.

  “I’m sorry that happened, Ian. I’m lucky I didn’t freak you out. That wasn’t the best first date.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t apologize. It isn’t your fault. And believe me, the pain you have won’t stop me from kissing you,” he added pointedly. “The only thing it does is make me worry about you, and make me want to be around you more to make sure you’re safe.”

  Amalie moved her arm down and slipped her hand into his, interlocking their fingers. “Do you think this is moving too fast, Ian?”

  “Sometimes. But then I remember we’ve both been through so much, and had bad experiences. We don’t know everything about each other yet, but that’s okay. I think when you feel something this good, it’s okay to let go and let it happen.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “It took me a long time to accept that. It’s something I have trouble with, but I don’t mind admitting you’re helping me with that.” He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. They continued.

  “Look!” Amalie exclaimed.

  They’d turned left and were walking through the woods. A large tortoise was sitting in the middle of the path, munching on a patch of green foliage. The turtle’s wrinkled neck reached out, and there was a soft sound of a leaf tearing as the creature took a slow bite.

  “That’s a gopher tortoise,” Ian explained.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “I read somewhere they burrow in the ground, as much as forty feet down. They’re endangered.”

  As they watched, the tortoise eyed them, took a last bite, and ambled across the path and into the scrub.

  “I wonder what it’s like to be a tortoise,” Ian mused.

  “You mean to be alone? To have your whole world threatened. I think I have some idea.”

  Ian gently squeezed her hand, and they continued back to the car.

  Chapter 18

  Amalie did her work the best she could. She wrote, edited, and followed orders. Joy seemed to be keeping a close eye on her, and Amalie began to feel like a bomb with a malfunctioning timer. All the while, the dreams plagued her. It was always in the back of her mind, flashes of images she couldn’t explain.

  She blamed her increasing anxiety on the nightmares, and even the faceless man who stalked her in the woods. Her dreams were growing increasingly disturbing.

  They had begun innocently enough. Amalie dreamt she was someone else, in a vividly detailed world she’d never visited, falling in love with a man she’d never met.

  Now she saw less of the lover, and more of the Woodsman. She’d decided to call him the Woodsman after the first dream. The word had come to her instantly, as if it’d always been nestled in her mind—something she knew. Every day she wondered why she had the dreams, what their purpose was, and why the flashes always returned during or before the pain.

  Usually she would fall instantly to sleep, but her nighttime adventures on the dreamscape were so involved she would wake up exhausted. She shared this with Ian, noting his concern, but holding back on certain details. Day by day, she was growing closer to him, but she also didn’t want him to think she was crazy.

  Let him think I’m crazy when we’ve been dating for at least a few months. By then he’ll know me better and maybe, just maybe, he won’t run.

  Soon, Amalie had reached the three-week marker. She didn’t know what to do. She was waiting to hear back from a Realtor who wasn’t returning her calls, and although she’d paid application fees several times at various apartment complexes, it always seemed to be too late. Her situation grew worse by the moment. She had less money and nowhere to go.

  Her medical bills were also putting a strain on her wallet. When nothing came up in the CAT scan, and Doctor Lee ran out of suggestions, she recommended Amalie see a dentist to make sure the pain wasn’t somehow related to a tooth infection.

  “If the dentist doesn’t find anything,” Doctor Lee had said, “you’ll need to see a neurologist and get an MRI.”

  Although it was easy for the doctor to say, the situation horrified Amalie. Doctor Lee hadn’t been able to find an obvious reason for her inexplicable pain. She put it off for a while, and finally made an appointment with a dentist in North Palm Beach.

  On a Friday evening the week before her first dental appointment in ten years, she went with Ian to Juno Beach. They stood by the pier staring at the huge expanse of ocean stretched out before them. The sun was still bright, but the temperature was much more pleasant. They watched as a surfer paddled her way out, and then sat for a long time on her board, staring into the distance as though waiting for something—the next big wave, perhaps.

  Ian slipped his hand around Amalie’s. He hadn’t spoken much the last few days. Usually, they kept in touch by phone, but she hadn’t heard from him until earlier that day, when he’d suggested they go to the beach.

  “Ian, I feel like I know you…very well. And I’m getting the feeling something’s bothering you. What’s up?”

  Ian’s brow crinkled and he looked stern. Over the short time they’d been dating, Amalie had discovered the meaning of that expression; he was deep in thought and was definitely troubled by something. For some reason, she often feared he would decide not to share his thoughts with her. She couldn’t figure out where that apprehension came from, especially since she had no reason for it.

  “Ian,” she repeated softly. “Please tell me.”

  He turned and looked at her, grasping both her hands in his. “I’m worried about you. What are you going to do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. Where are you going to go? Are you going to go back to Maine? We haven’t been seeing each other that long, but I’m really enjoying spending time with you.”

  “I don’t think I have much choice.”

  “You do have a choice. Remember when I said I would help you look for a place?”

  “Yeah, but you’re so busy, Ian.”

  “Shush, listen. I know a great place. You’d have your own big bedroom, a walk-in closet, and a private bathroom. Full use of the kitchen, and there’s a great view of the walking paths at Carlin Park from the back porch. Only five hundred a month.”

  Amalie raised an eyebrow. “Sounds fantastic, but what’s the catch?”

  “No catch, except it’s th
e extra bedroom in my condo. I would’ve offered sooner, but I had to be sure first.”

  “I understand, but I thought you didn’t need a roommate.”

  “I don’t. But you do.”

  “This is kind of huge, Ian.” Amalie stepped up to where the ocean met the sand. The water lapped over her feet and she wiggled her toes. “I mean, we’re…dating.” She felt her face flush. “Are you sure you want to complicate things that quickly?”

  “Am, to be perfectly honest, I just want you to be happy, and I can tell moving back to Maine wouldn’t be good for you. I also don’t want to see you leave so soon. I’ve only just met you. What do you think? I would never intrude on your space. You’ll have all the privacy you need.”

  Amalie turned and met his gaze. She squeezed his hand.

  “I believe you.” She found herself returning to the words she’d spoken only moments before, but this time, she smiled and looked at him adoringly. “I don’t think I have much choice.”

  Ian leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. She froze for a moment, and then kissed him back, unable to quell the girlish feeling of embarrassment that overcame her.

  “You always have choices, Amalie. Always.”

  They stood inches apart. She leaned forward and kissed him again.

  “This is my choice.”

  They stayed on the beach until the sky began to darken—and then Amalie went to see her new apartment.

  Chapter 19

  On Monday morning, as she sat up in bed, a stabbing pain shot up through the right side of her neck, making her wince. Shortly after, the pain on the left side of her face crawled toward her eye and down to her jaw. She spent a few long moments in shock, wondering what was making her neck hurt. As she climbed out of bed and made coffee, she was aware that the slightest movement precipitated another stab in her neck, and she was unable to move her head to either side. She operated slow and stiff, as though her body were made of wood.

  Having requested off from work in order to go to her dental appointment, Amalie was relieved she wouldn’t have to go to the office feeling this way. But she still had to drive while she was in pain, and she was frightened it would worsen.

  She sat down in her Honda without opening the windows, her car key in her hand. Bright sunlight beat in through the windshield. In front of her, a squirrel scurried up the trunk of a tree. Amalie watched it for a moment, and tried to breathe. It was difficult in the stifling car, but somehow the heavy heat was almost relieving, as if it soothed her skin, comforting the pain away.

  She turned the key in the ignition, then rolled down the window. Her aging little car had no air conditioning. On a day like today, the wind rushing in the driver’s side window would have refreshed her, but for some reason, the farther she went the worse she felt. The wind annoyed her, and even her sunglasses perching harmlessly on her face felt like an enemy. She couldn’t understand why. The pain in her neck was new and the sudden increased sensitivity in her face frightened her.

  The dentist’s waiting room smelled too clean, and she guessed it was regularly wiped down with Lysol. The scent made her uncomfortable as she fidgeted on the polished wooden chair, flipping through an old copy of a health magazine. The front cover read in bold lettering, Do You Have Migraines? There was a photo on the cover of a woman clutching her head.

  “I don’t know,” Amalie mumbled, then tossed the issue back on the end table. It was almost time for her nine-thirty appointment. She’d filled out all the necessary paperwork and handed it to the blonde, double-chinned receptionist.

  With each moment, she grew more antsy, more agitated. The pounding in her head and face was increasing, and she was terrified she wouldn’t be able to handle it. A moment flashed back to her, a day in her childhood when she’d been riding her bicycle and a sudden shocking pain had made her stop, double over, and collapse on the grass at the side of the dirt road. She remembered exactly how warm it was that day, the position of the sun in the sky, and the way the foliage on the trees wavered in a sea breeze. She hadn’t thought about that in years. And when she did, it occurred to her she might be dealing with something much worse than a toothache.

  “Amalie Jarvis?”

  She glanced up, which caused another shock of pain to travel along her neck and toward her right ear. The lighting in the waiting room felt like a weight on her cheek, pressing down, making her visibly cringe.

  “Are you all right?” The woman in her pastel blue scrub uniform frowned down at Amalie. “My name’s Jean, I’m Doctor Horowitz’s assistant. If you’re ready, you can just follow me.”

  “Okay,” Amalie croaked, standing and wavering on her feet.

  “You sure you’re all right?”

  “I’ll be okay, I just…have this pain.” Amalie tucked her hands in the pockets of her pants and trudged after Jean.

  “Yes, in the left side of your face, correct?” She held the door open for Amalie, and the two women stepped into the back. A short hallway followed, and Jean indicated a door on the right. “Room two. We’ll see if we can pinpoint the root of your problem.” They entered the room together. “Have a seat. The doctor will be here in a few minutes. We’ll take a look, and then we’ll do a set of x-rays.”

  “How long will that take?” As Amalie reclined in the menacing dentist’s chair, a bawdy television blared in front of her, making her squint. The light was even harsher in here. She wanted to go home more than anything.

  “It should take about twenty minutes.” Once again, Jean eyed her, frowning. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I don’t know. When will the doctor be in here? I…I’m not sure…how long I can handle this.”

  “Is it getting worse?”

  The pain crawled from her ear, across her temple, and down her cheek like a wriggling hot snake that ripped at whatever lay between her skin and bone. It was as though an animal were trapped inside her, and as it made its way closer to the left side of her nose, the pain worsened. She knew it wouldn’t be long. Soon she would be writhing. She could feel it coming. She dug her fingers into the faux leather of the chair, preparing herself for the onslaught. Nothing was worse than this, no pain was comparable. She recalled the only words that echoed through her mind just as the pain hit that day on the beach, during her first date with Ian. The words she’d never told him about.

  I want to die.

  “Amalie, is it getting worse?” Jean repeated, tucking her clipboard against her chest.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll hurry the doctor along then. I’ll be right back.”

  The minutes passed as though they were hours. Finally, the doctor arrived and introduced himself. He was a middle-aged man with glasses and graying hair, and he greeted Amalie with a warm smile.

  “Jean says you’re not feeling too well, so we’ll hurry this along as best we can.”

  Remembering previous episodes, Amalie looked him squarely in the eye and croaked, “It’s getting worse. If it gets really bad, I might have a panic attack.” Ian didn’t know that about her, but she’d had them when she was younger. When the pain hit in high school, she’d been unable to breathe, and she’d sobbed and gasped, certain she was dying, until the worst of the pain had passed.

  The doctor nodded as though he’d heard this before. “Okay. We’ll go as quickly as we can.”

  Each image taken of the inside of her mouth was more awkward than the last. Amalie had to open her mouth wide, which made the shocks lancing through her face worsen, and Jean inserted some kind of device into her mouth. The shape of it made her very uncomfortable. When it was in place, she had to bite down on it, after which Jean would press a button and the picture would be taken. A series of images appeared on a screen to the right, Amalie’s teeth from various angles. Although she was not a dentist, she saw nothing odd about them.

  She wasn’t sure how much time had passed or how many x-rays they’d taken before she began to fall apart. They’d turned off the television at her request, but t
he light in the room was so blaring it was playing havoc on her senses.

  As Jean prepared the device again, Amalie cringed when another pain in her face made her stomach churn. She was clutching the arms of the chair, digging her nails in, her chest heaving. She could feel her eyes begin to water. She breathed out her mouth; breathing through her nose only caused more pain.

  She glanced up and saw Jean set the tool down.

  “How are you doing?”

  Amalie forced words out between her quivering lips. “Not good. It’s bad, very bad.” Unable to handle it anymore, she groaned and curled up, rocking to the side.

  This was when she drifted away. She was no longer herself. Darkness fell over her, and she knew that anything she said or did, or how she reacted, was not anything Amalie would have done. Amalie was no longer there. Only the pain presided over her body. It was the only real thing inside her. She became the pain.

  Somewhere out of the darkness, Jean asked her if she wanted the light turned off. Amalie heard her own voice emerge as a weak mumble, and within seconds the light was out. A moment later, she squinted through the shadows and saw a white lab coat. The voice of Doctor Horowitz encouraged her to go to the hospital, and asked if there was anyone they could call. She was in no condition to drive.

  The pain slammed against her cheek, like a chisel being driven straight into her bone.

  “Do you have any family here?”

  The question was innocent enough, but as the stabbing continued from the inside, Amalie thought of her mother, then her father, then her distant relatives in Maine, and her cousins, aunts, and uncles scattered across the country. Somehow she managed to say no. The memories would fade later, but she did drag her cell phone out of her pocket and hand it to the doctor, telling him to call the one man who would help her, who had promised to be there for her whenever she needed him, the man who made her feel safe.