Dreaming a Reality

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Dreaming a Reality Page 4

by Lisa M. Cronkhite


  I went to the kitchen to put the meatloaf in and started up with the mashed potatoes. Finally I would see Jeremy after what seemed like a month since my trip with Jenny.

  I wondered how John was doing, and how he was with Natalie. They’d been friends for years and it took me by surprise that she’d moved in with him. I was eager to hear what Jeremy had to say, but felt like I was eavesdropping on John’s life, finding out through Jeremy. It didn’t help that John never talked about it, that I had to learn everything from our son.

  It was now around seven in the evening, and I had all my work done and the house neat and clean. The meatloaf was cooking, and the smell of bacon loomed through the house. I was ready for Jeremy to come home.

  Chapter Seven

  “Jeremy!” I shouted as he stepped in the front door.

  “How are you?” I asked, embracing him by the doorway.

  “I’m good. It smells great in here, Ma.”

  “Good. I’m making one of your favorites.”

  He took his coat off and headed to the bathroom. I went back into the kitchen to mash the potatoes one last time.

  “So, how was your trip?” he asked as he entered the kitchen and sat down at the table.

  “It was good. How was Dad’s?”

  I didn’t want to tell him about Dean—not yet. I was more interested in him talking. I slipped on the oven mitt and placed the meatloaf on the stove.

  “Dad’s was good.”

  Just like Jeremy to answer in the same way.

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it, Ma.”

  “Come on, Jer. You can tell me. Was Natalie there?”

  “You know, Ma, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.” His stern look felt like a slap on the face.

  I could feel my cheeks turning red as I cut up the meatloaf. Luckily, I had my back turned where Jeremy couldn’t see.

  “I’m just curious, Jeremy. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

  “Curiosity kills the cat.”

  “Har-dee-har, very funny. Now talk to me. What’s up?”

  “Well, you might want to sit down for this. I need to tell you something.”

  “What?”

  My heart started beating quickly, and I felt nervous again. It came in waves, and right now I felt like this was a big one. What ball are you gonna drop on me now? I thought.

  “They are getting married.”

  That night I wrestled around in bed thinking of just about everything, including my mom, whom I couldn’t believe was so severely sick. Why hadn’t they told me themselves? Why still carry this heavy animosity against me—this difficult grudge that we couldn’t get past? I had the urge to see her again, to confide in her like I used to.

  While I tossed and turned, my thoughts shifted to John. How in the world had this happened? Natalie of all people? I thought they were just friends. I knew they were close, but still. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to wake Jeremy either, so I remained in bed. I tried to focus on calming my mind, counting how many times the ceiling fan clicked as it swirled around. My thoughts were on edge, spiraling around like the fan. I thought so much, I closed my eyes; that’s when she appeared to me again.

  We ran to an old abandoned farmhouse to go play inside. The house had chipped, pale-blue paint and a wooden porch. When we separated hands and split up, running throughout the house, the girl began to count softly. Once she reached twenty, she yelled out, “Ready or not, here I come.” We were playing a game of hide-and-seek. She was to hide and I to go look for her, but it seemed like the opposite as I could feel her eyes watching me as I searched through the house. It grew dark and cold and the cool breeze drifted down the stairs as I began to walk up them. I could hear the floors creak as she ran through the house. Suddenly, there was silence and everything turned black. I was the one hiding, and the anticipation of being caught made my heart beat even faster. How could I have been the one looking, and then suddenly trapped in the darkness?

  I felt around to see where I was—I was in a wooden box and lifted up the top to peek out and see where the girl was. She had reached the top of the stairs and turned to the railing to look down. Standing there quietly, she looked me straight in the face; she knew I was watching her. I smiled and waited patiently for her to come get me, but instead she turned to the railing near the balcony of the staircase. She looked up and counted how many times the ceiling fan turned, just as she was about to perch herself on the rail, then she proceeded to climb up and continue counting.

  I got out of the chest and ran to her, but everything was in slow motion and I wasn’t fast enough. Just as I got to the ledge, she jumped into a pit of grey smoke, and in that instant, she was gone.

  The tic-tac-sized numbers on the digital clock read the same time as usual, 2:27 a.m. It was the very same time I’d woken up for over a month now. I tried to remember what the doctor said: “Maybe it’s the little girl inside you, feeling trapped.”

  Dripping with sweat, I decided to get up, go splash some water on my face and do my rounds, but before I left the bathroom, I glanced in the mirror. My eyes were sunken and felt heavy. I was half asleep and half awake and hadn’t realized how tired I looked until now.

  “Why does this keep happening?” I asked myself in a quiet voice. Reverting back to what the doctor said, I thought maybe it was me in another life, trapped.

  After being up a while, I went to the computer to see if Dean was on, but saw that his green online button was off. I then checked on my e-mail—another one from John. Why now? I thought. Didn’t we just talk about this? What was he doing to me? He has his new life with Natalie now, for Christ’s sake, and they’re getting married. This time I didn’t hesitate to open it. In fact, I felt compelled to reply to whatever he had to say:

  Kat, I haven’t seen you in months. We need to sit down and really talk. Not just about Jeremy, but about us.

  “About us?” I laughed. There is no “us”. My mind traveled to when there was an “us”. John would grill his famous A1 burgers, while I sautéed onions. He loved cooking for us while Jeremy played in the yard. Back then, there was an “us”.

  After reading the e-mail, I didn’t have the heart to reply. I was angry at what he had said, angry for including me in whatever he was thinking. How dare he? He’s with who he wants to be with now. Why play with my mind again and make me think there is more to it than there really is? After so many arguments regarding the “whys” and “how-comes”, I was now at the point of not caring, I was now at the point of becoming manic.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning I decided to give John a call. After finishing my conversations with potential customers, I was now ready and had some time to talk to him. The answering machine picked up.

  “John, I don’t know what’s up with you lately. I sincerely hope you’re okay. I know it’s hard to keep in contact, but we need to for Jeremy’s sake.” I ended the call and hung up.

  I went into the kitchen to start some coffee, glancing at the table again—John’s table. I thought of how he worked his way up from carving little wooden animals, when we were first dating, to his carpentry career now, and remembered when he was going to school and finally finished. It was something he always dreamed of. Lately, he seemed too busy during the day for e-mails and phone calls, yet he didn’t hesitate to do so in the middle of the night. Was that when he knew I’d be on?

  I walked back upstairs to the loft where the computer was and began sifting through my e-mails. There were several from Mr. Jorgan—Mitch. He’d been away on business in Cancun with his wife for the past few days, but the moment he came back into Wisconsin, he left message after message, including some on the phone. I listened in as they began to play:

  “Kat, I really wish you’d give me that second chance we’ve been talking about. As for the Denver trip, that is to be scheduled for mid-December. Give me a call when you can. I miss my kitty.”

  I then procee
ded to call his cell, leaving a message:

  “Mr. Jorgan. Glad you made it back. I will need details for the Denver meetings so I can book them immediately. Please send an e-mail and provide me with this information. I will have printouts of the flight patterns as soon as I can.”

  Mr. Ming also called, but I knew there was no rush for that. Although I’d been feeling a little off here and there, I still had caught up with work.

  No word from Dean, though, which was surprising. Usually he’d e-mail or IM every day, but this morning, nothing.

  I gave Dean a call around lunchtime, but he didn’t pick up, and I didn’t leave a message. Thoughts of him ran negatively through my mind. We’d been talking for weeks, yet only saw each other that one time in Chicago. We were so hot and heavy in the beginning with our chatting, it seemed odd not to hear from him for a few days.

  Feeling slightly sluggish, and confused about Dean, I decided to take a walk. I slipped on my socks and shoes and headed out through the back door, smelling the pine and fresh water in the air as I walked. I took the winding suburban road to the lake, noticing there were only a few people out this time of day. Just one car passed as I began to hike down the trail to the bridge.

  There was a beautiful view of the rock quarries just beneath—a breathtaking glance hundreds of feet below. The moss-covered rocks glistened with moisture as the slight litter of bottles on the ground flickered in the light. You could see the tops of maples and the leaves from mulberry trees growing toward the light above. Greenery also grew in the cracks and crevices of the jagged rocks.

  After getting to the bridge, I could see the lake peeking between the fir trees and couldn’t help but think of the girl in my dreams—in the most recent one she stood near the edge of the railing. My thoughts were muffled and out of order, switching all over the place. First it was Dean, then back to the girl, then Jeremy and John. I also thought of my mom and how much pain she’d been going through. I started to feel dizzy to the point where I thought I would faint, and a nauseous feeling floated up into my chest and into my throat. I could feel knots forming in my stomach.

  I became scared and felt like I could fall from the bridge, so I turned back to the house.

  I made it home without having to vomit and remembered I needed to call the psychiatrist for an appointment, just like Dr. Mason advised. I had to tell him about my side effects.

  I walked inside the house and tried to calm myself and collect my thoughts. I had an overwhelming amount of people I wanted to call; first my doctor and then Sally—my mother. After making an appointment, I picked up the phone and dialed her number.

  “You have reached the Stefano residence. Please leave your name and number and we will get back to you as soon as possible.”

  Hearing the name Stefano jarred me. I would have kept my maiden name if I hadn’t already made a name for myself with Wheeler. I was still married when I first started my travel-agent job and soon became a reputable person, so after the divorce, I kept it.

  A few seconds passed after the message before the beep to record:

  “Hello? It’s me.” I hesitated again. “I know it’s been a long time, but I would like to see you guys, if I can.” I left it at that and hung up.

  Later in the day, I gathered my papers, documenting the Denver trip for Mitch in my datebook as a reminder, and filed them away. I kept all my paperwork organized and stored inside the drawers of my desk.

  Jeremy was coming home soon, so I quickly wrapped things up with work and started preparing corned beef in the oven.

  It had been hours since I called my mom and dad, and I figured they weren’t going to reply. I had the urge to talk to someone, calling just about everyone, but no one seemed available. I even tried calling Dean to break the silence and left a message to call me back.

  I was alone in my thoughts.

  Jeremy came in about a quarter after four and went straight into his bedroom to sleep. He had a lot of time on his hands since hockey practice was over. Looking at him sleep made me think of John; they looked so alike with their sandy brown hair, thick with waves, and their hazel eyes. Even their stature was the same, tall at around six feet three and well built.

  I wondered how John was and couldn’t understand why he skirted around the issue—why he wasn’t calling me back.

  I called one person after another―no response.

  After Jeremy and I finished dinner, he decided to go out to his friend’s house.

  “I’ll be back later, Ma,” he yelled as he opened the door.

  “Okay. Call me and let me know what’s up.”

  After he left, I cleaned up the kitchen and went back upstairs. That’s when the phone rang. Finally someone called me back.

  Chapter Nine

  “Kat. It’s Dean.”

  Relieved to hear his voice—anyone’s voice for that matter―I began to wonder why he hadn’t communicated with me in almost a week. “Is everything okay with you, Dean?”

  “I was experiencing an anxiety attack at work and took a few days off.”

  “Oh, I’m glad you’re all right now. I was beginning to worry.”

  “I’m sorry I made you worry like that. I didn’t mean to.”

  “You know I’m always here for you, Dean.”

  “I know.”

  There was an odd silence, and I didn’t know what to say. He cleared his throat and said, “Do you see me?”

  Startled, I wasn’t sure what he meant, so I looked out the front window. It was raining pretty hard against the glass, and I couldn’t see very well. “Are you here? In town?” Another silence, then as I scanned outside again, there he was across the street, holding an umbrella, waving.

  “Dean, you’re here!” I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I was excited to see him, yet it was a little unnerving to see him standing out front. How did he know where I lived?

  “I came to see you. Can I visit?”

  “Sure, you must be cold…and wet.”

  He snapped his cell phone shut and headed to the front door. I stood there waiting with the door opened, watching him run across the street.

  “Hey,” he said, kissing me on the cheek as he got to the porch.

  “Come in, come in. You’re all wet.”

  “Thanks.”

  He took off his jacket and sat down.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “Sure, what do you have?”

  “All I have is water and Gatorade.”

  “I’ll take water.”

  He looked around the front room. “Your place is nice.”

  “Thanks,” I said, getting the bottle of water out of the fridge.

  “Here, you’ll probably be needing this,” he said, getting up off the couch and walking toward me. He shuffled through his shirt pocket and handed me my I.D. card. It was as if he’d read my mind.

  “How did you get this?” I gave him a puzzled look, trying to remember how I lost it in the first place, and then I remembered as the flash of being in the cab shot through my mind. I hadn’t noticed it missing until that time.

  “You must have dropped it before we left the restaurant—back in Chicago.”

  “Right, thanks.” It was an awkward feeling. Why didn’t he just mail it back to me, and why all of a sudden come visit me when we really hadn’t been talking lately?

  “So, how long are you staying?” I handed him the water bottle and perched myself on one of the kitchen stools.

  “Not long. I have a flight tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh, you’re not leaving till tomorrow?” I became increasingly uncomfortable after that. The thought of him wanting to stay the night crept through my mind. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him too, but I’d certainly not been expecting it.

  “So, where are you staying?” I asked after a long pause.

  “Just down the street. You know; that motel around the corner?”

  “Oh, the Deluxe Hotel?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

 
He moved in close and started caressing the hair around my ear. I could feel the goose bumps travel up my arms.

  “Kat, you’re cold. Is something wrong?”

  In my mind there was something wrong. Something didn’t fit. “No, I’m okay.”

  “Here, let me rub your shoulders.”

  Dean turned around behind me and began to rub my shoulder line.

  “You seem tense. Relax. It’s just me.”

  I tried to relax while he was massaging me, but I couldn’t help think what his intentions were. I mean, I’d only known him a few months, and this was just the second time of meeting. What was he thinking, coming all the way out here without telling me? The thought of it made me grow even more nervous.

  “Listen, I appreciate it, Dean. I really do, but it’s late. Jeremy’s coming home soon.”

  “Oh, come on, babe. This won’t hurt a bit.”

  He continued rubbing, a little harder and deeper each time, and lowered his face, brushing his lips up against my neck.

  “Come on, I know you like it.”

  “Dean, stop.”

  He didn’t stop. Instead, he wrapped his arms around my waist and started caressing my breasts. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” he whispered in my ear.

  “Dean, stop!” I turned around and slapped him hard on the cheek. “Is this all you came here for?”

  “You bitch! I came all the way here for this shit?”

  He grabbed my arms and pulled me close as he started kissing me again. I tried wrestling out of his grip, but he was too strong. He dragged me to the bedroom.

  “Dean, please! What are you doing?” I panicked and struggled to get out of his clasp. His arms were like steel bars around me.

  Just as he was about to throw me on the bed, there was a jingling at the back door. Jeremy, I thought.

 

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