Dreaming a Reality

by Lisa M. Cronkhite

  My plans were to fly out the last day of the month, on a Monday. Mitch made sure to book it during the week to save money―even though he splurged on himself with his cars and suits and fine dining, he was a cheapskate about everything else.

  “I’ll be careful, I promise,” I said to Jeremy, standing on my tip-toes to kiss his forehead.

  After thinking about what Jeremy said, confirming the fact that Mitch was on the obsessive side, I began to think negatively about the trip. Not that anything bad was going to happen, but just where did Mitch want this relationship to go? After all, he did say he had a miserable marriage, but he didn’t seem insecure about it or anything—like he could take it or leave it. It was just the fact that he was indeed married that bothered me. I didn’t want to come across as the “other woman”, but in all honesty, I was. I rationalized it up down and sideways and kept telling myself I wasn’t the one cheating here. Then again, what if it was the other way around? How would I feel?

  I started the dishes and laundry, pondering on the last thought I had of John.

  He never actually cheated on me during our marriage, nor did I cheat on him, but my extreme jealousy and accusations of who he was with on his late night occurrences made me worry terribly. It was a big reason for our divorce.

  I prepared a breakfast for Jeremy and myself of eggs-over-easy and wheat toast, and then pulled the clothes out of the dryer and started folding towels.

  Jeremy sat down in front of the T.V. and flipped back and forth between the Weather Channel and E.S.P.N. I thought of prying into his life a little and even more so, to see what John was up to.

  “So, champ, got any hot girls on the side?”

  He laughed, practically choking on his toast. “No, Ma. Now will you quit it with the girl-thing. You know I don’t have time for that.”

  “All right, all right. I’ll leave that alone and trust you’ll tell me when it does happen, okay, Jeremy Ryan? Got it?”

  “God, Ma. Yeah, I got it. Geez.”

  “So have you spoken with your dad recently?”

  “Ya, yesterday,” he said just before he chugged a gulp of milk. “I told him I need money for a new stick.”

  I remembered first signing him up and how excited he was. He truly has come such a long way. John was proud, too, and sort of lived vicariously through his son. Skates alone were seventy dollars or more.

  “Yes, the money. That’s right. Can’t forget that. So, anyway, how is Natalie? Is your father making any plans for the wedding? How is that going?”

  “What’s with all the questions, Ma?” Jeremy stared at me with a frustrated look.

  “Well, I want to know, that’s all. Your dad never says much to me anymore.”

  “As far as I know, everything’s still on. Don’t know the details, so don’t ask. It sucks though.”

  “Why is that?”

  “’Cause she’s a bitch…and don’t get mad at me for sayin’ that word, but it fits her perfect.”

  That was the first time Jeremy had expressed his feelings toward Natalie and what was happening. I wanted to hear more, everything in fact, but I tried to play it easy. I didn’t want to scare him off talking.

  “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

  Yet I did have some idea that he didn’t like her. He’d given some hints of that in the past, but I assumed they got along. “So, how is she, really?”

  “Well, for one, she is always telling me what to do, and I can tell I get on her nerves too. She’s always sayin’, ‘If it wasn’t for your dad.′ Then she’ll stop, and I’ll say, ′What? You wouldn’t be here?′” Jeremy paused and checked the time. “Ma, let’s not get into this now. I gotta go.”

  “Gosh, sorry to bother you. I was just asking.” I gave him a kiss after he cleaned up his plate. “See you later, buddy. Be careful.” He headed out the door.

  I went on to fold and put away clothes. I felt the urge to take another brisk walk but decided to check on my e-mail messages instead. I noticed from the little envelope on the screen that I’d received mail. There was one new message. The subject line read: Dying for you.

  I didn’t know who it was from, but opened it anyway. Something inside me wanted to read it. It was a new e-mail address that I wasn’t familiar with, but the subject line made me think of John. What if it was him? I felt stronger this time and less bothered by the whole ordeal of Dean, so I opened it:

  Dear Katherine,

  I can’t tell you how truly sorry I am for that time I came to visit. I don’t know what came over me. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to talk to me again, but I am dying to see you, or least talk to you. I called a few times, but you never picked up. Please talk to me. I miss you and desperately need to hear from you.

  Still Restless,

  D.

  He didn’t even put his full name down. What was he trying to prove? Was he insane or something? He’d practically raped me, and in my own home no less, but after reading it, in some weird way I felt sorry for him and did miss the old Dean—the Dean that used to keep me company during the middle of the night. Something inside me felt compelled to answer, but I wasn’t quite sure whether to or not, or how. I knew that with his vulnerable frame of mind, he might become even more depressed and perhaps hurt himself or, worse, someone else. Right now I needed space and didn’t think it was a good idea, so I held back from answering. Lately, his correspondence had seemed to die down. I didn’t worry anymore, so why change that?

  Chapter Sixteen

  I was losing track of the days. I thought it was Wednesday, yet when I looked at the calendar, it was actually Thursday—a week before Thanksgiving. Todd had left a message on my cell to call him as soon as possible, and it sounded urgent. Again the lump in my throat started to rise. I was feeling nauseous.

  It was around ten in the morning and I was getting some work done. The family that wanted to go to Orlando had requested more information on hotels in the area and wanted to know about all the deals. They squabbled over which one was better—Days Inn or the Comfort Suites―and wanted all the comparisons. The old couple’s Carnival cruise was all set. I replied to more e-mails and responded to a few incoming calls, and all the while my heart pounded about the Todd call. I pulled myself together to hear what Todd had to say; it was now time, and I was ready…well, sort of.

  I dialed his number, and he picked up on the second ring.

  “Hi, Todd. It’s me.”

  “Kat, I’ve been wanting to talk with you for days now. Are you getting my calls?”

  “No, I didn’t have anything on my cell. You know I check my messages all the time.”

  “I didn’t call your cell. I called the house.”

  I walked over to the answering machine and saw that the light was still blinking. I’d been so preoccupied by the Bahamas trip and work that I hadn’t noticed. I hadn’t thought to check since all I usually received on the house line were telemarketers’ calls.

  “Sorry, I must have missed them. What’s wrong?”

  “Mom’s really sick. The chemotherapy isn’t working, Kat. She’s in the hospital.”

  “Oh, God, this can’t be happening.”

  My heart felt like lead in my chest. I hadn’t spoken to her in so long I’d forgotten what her voice sounded like.

  “You need to call Dad.”

  “I did call, Todd, but I never got a call back.”

  “Dad’s been so busy at the hospital, maybe he didn’t see the message. Besides, you know he doesn’t know how to work the answering machine. You’d better go visit him. You need to see her before she…” Todd’s voice trailed off.

  “I know, Todd. I will. As soon as I get off the phone with you, I will call.”

  He didn’t go into detail, but I knew now was the time to step it up. I would demand to see her even if she didn’t want my visit. Ironically enough, they lived just eight blocks from me. They were so close, yet so far away.

  After I got off the phone with Todd, I went outside for a smoke
to try to calm my nerves, but I felt the panic rising. My upper lip began to sweat, and I thought about how my mom must be in so much pain right now. I thought of a lot of things.

  One day, when I was young, I had walked home from school and was followed by two girls. They stopped me just before I could get over the tracks, and they jumped me. My mother was across on the other side walking our dog Buddy at the time, and she screamed and ran to me as fast as she could. As I heard my mom calling out, I tightened my fists and punched one of the girls as hard as I could. “Fight back, Katherine. Fight!” my mother shouted.

  I was surprised, since she never condoned fighting, but when it came time, she knew I needed to—needed to fight for my life.

  Now she needed to fight for her life, and I desperately wanted to see her.

  I got in the car and drove to my parent’s apartment. The closer I got, the worse I felt. My palms were soaked with nervous sweat; so much so, they slipped off the wheel, and I had to catch myself a few times.

  I parked the car and got out, walking briskly to the glass doors. I was in the foyer when I glanced at the name on the mailbox chamber—Stefano. My eyes welled up with tears. “Please God,” I whispered. “Help me to be strong.”

  Taking a few deep breaths and counting to ten, I buzzed the button to let my dad know I was there. Luckily, he was at home.

  “Who is it?” he said over the speaker box.

  “Katherine.”

  As the inner door made a long humming noise, I could feel it shake my bones. I started up the stairs to the third floor. My dad was waiting for me at the top of the landing.

  “Katherine, it’s so good to see you.” He smiled and gave me a big bear hug.

  The door of the apartment was open, and I could smell the fresh coat of paint Todd had talked about. Everything was clean and neat. My mother always kept it that way.

  “How is she?” I asked abruptly.

  “She is very ill, Katherine. She would like you to visit her.” My father looked worn, with gray curly hair and a tired look on his face, like he hadn’t slept in weeks. I was concerned about his health, too. I could see that this was taking a toll on him in so many ways. “Please, Kat. She needs you.”

  I only stayed a few minutes. I couldn’t bear to see my dad so drained. Before I left, I agreed to go to St. Luke’s and finally see my mother.

  I was completely exhausted, mentally and physically. I could feel my body shutting down, wanting rest. Instead of running straight to the hospital, I turned the car around and headed home. I needed sleep—fast.

  Once I got home, I sauntered to my bedroom and plopped on the bed. Within minutes, I was asleep.

  She appeared emaciated this time and starving to death. Again at a teenage age, she walked to the lake. Coming up to the cliff’s edge, she stood with her arms spread open, chanting over and over a mumble of words I couldn’t understand. She wore a torn, white see-through dress, and the bones protruded out of her body. The cold chill in the air made it uncomfortable, and a funneling wind crawled beneath as I looked down to the jagged rock below. I had an eerie feeling she knew I was there. She raised her arms above her head and, cupping her hands, began to descend into a diving position; so slow and so graceful. I tried to run, but my legs felt cemented to the earth. I couldn’t move, yet I felt like I was floating down with the girl.

  I reached out for her as the sheer dress slipped through my fingers and, in that moment, I awoke.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After I circled around in the visitor’s parking lot, I positioned the car in a tight spot on the second floor of the garage. I got out of the car and stood up, feeling lightheaded.

  It took me over twenty minutes to get to the entrance. Even though I knew this area like the back of my hand, I felt lost. My mind continued to race as I came to the automated doors. They slid open, and a burst of warmth floated outside. You could see the heat once it hit the cold air.

  “I’m here to see Sally Stefano, please,” I said in a shaky voice to the elderly lady behind the desk.

  “One moment, please,” she responded right before she answered the phone. After she put the person on hold, she handed me a visitor sticker and directed me where to go.

  “You can take the south elevator doors to the fourth floor.”

  The time in the elevator felt like forever. I was alone, staring at my own reflection through the black glass encasement. The light was a dim yellow and made me look scary. I was scared. Looking at myself, I wondered how my mother would appear after all these months.

  I called Jeremy right before I left home and told him Grandma Sally was sick and in the hospital. He wasn’t shocked about it. Somehow he already knew how ill she was. Even though the families hardly communicated, and Jeremy hadn’t seen his grandmother in over a year, he still talked to Uncle Todd, just as I did. I knew in my heart my brother told him more—maybe even more than I knew.

  After finally getting up to the fourth floor, I asked the nurses at the nurse’s station where to go from there.

  “Hi, how can I help you?” asked the thin-framed nurse with short red hair.

  “I’m here to see Sally Stefano. What room is she in?”

  “Room 227. It’s just off to your right and down the hall.”

  227? I thought. Those numbers rang a bell, but I couldn’t think of what. I couldn’t think at all. Everything was bright—too bright. The walls were white and glossy, and the sterile smell was making me sick. I could hardly breathe.

  Once I got up to the room, the door was open. I peeked in gingerly thinking she might be sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb her. I couldn’t be more nervous than I was right now, at this very moment.

  I popped my head in just a little more, then finally just knocked on the door.

  “Mom?”

  At first, as I walked in, I couldn’t see her. She was turned to the window on the other side of the room as she lay there in bed with the sheets up to her face.

  “Mom, is that you?”

  I wasn’t sure. I had hoped maybe it wasn’t. Only a bald head was peeking through the blankets. Then she turned around.

  “Oh, Mom.” I couldn’t say much more. Tears streamed down my face as I stepped in for a closer look.

  “Katherine,” she said in a faint voice. “Is that really you?”

  “Yes, it’s me, Mom.”

  She looked gaunt and tired with half-moon circles under her eyes. She was very thin—too thin—with the exception of her stomach where the tumor had grown. Under the covers was her bloated belly, as if she was pregnant again.

  “I’m here, Mom.”

  I moved in closer and grabbed her hand. Wires from all angles were hooked up to her.

  “Are you sure you want to touch me? I bet you didn’t think I’d be like this.”

  I could sense the tone of embarrassment. She’d lost all her hair and felt cold to the touch. It was hard seeing her like this, but she was still beautiful to me with those same ice-blue eyes and enchanting smile.

  “I missed you, Mom.”

  “I missed you, Katherine.”

  She always called me by my full name. She never did like the “Kat” nickname. I wanted to say so much to her, but I could tell she was so weak that it wouldn’t even have mattered. I thought of when she was young, with her hair long and brown. She was so energetic back then. I remembered how just before I was diagnosed we were so close. We’d take walks together by the lake and have breakfast at the local diner, where she always ordered the same thing; plain crepes with lemon wedges. We’d talk over coffee—mostly of Jeremy, but of John too. How she loved John; she treated him like a son. When my first episode occurred, she grew distant, however, as if I was a stranger to her. She never really did tell me why she bore a heavy heart toward me.

  At times, I would rationalize it, thinking she didn’t fully understand my illness, and at other times, I thought maybe she had blamed herself for having a mentally ill daughter. Whatever the case, she never told me exactly w
hy things happened the way it did.

  All that didn’t matter now. What mattered to me was that she was as comfortable and pain-free as possible.

  I sat there with her for a few hours. We didn’t say much, just held hands. I stroked her face.

  I left the hospital around seven in the evening. Before I left, I gave my cell phone and home numbers to the nurse’s station and insisted they call me any time at all, with any news. However, I kind of felt oblivious to her diagnosis. When I was in her room, one of the doctors came in to check on her. All I remember him saying was that she hadn’t much time—a few weeks perhaps, maybe a month at the longest. My mind was distorted, and I didn’t know what to do. It was only a few days until my trip with Mitch, but it didn’t seem worth it now. I was confused and hurt and felt alone in my thoughts. Even though I had Todd and my father to lean on, I knew they would be going through their own pain. I hadn’t talked to Martha in a long time; she was always on my mother’s side and didn’t care much for my lifestyle. Things were starting to become a blur.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Thanksgiving came and went just like any other day. I’d made a small dinner for Jeremy and me. It wasn’t anything like the years before when the families would all get together. Todd and Dad were at the hospital, and Martha was cooking up a feast for her in-laws.

  It was now Sunday, the day before the trip, and I still wasn’t packed as I felt out of place, disorganized. I couldn’t believe Mitch talked me into this. It wasn’t the right time to be going on a trip, and I felt guilty and ashamed of what was about to happen.

  Jeremy noticed I was acting off more and more and said, “Mom, you don’t look good. Are you getting any sleep?”

  “Yeah, some. I’ll be okay. I am just worn out and overtired.”

  “Please, Mom, you need to slow down. Let me see you take your meds. Now!”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll get them.”

  I took out my medication bottles, all three of them, and placed the pills in my hand, showing them to Jeremy to make sure he was watching. I popped them in my mouth and took a swig of juice from the fridge.