by C. S. Dorsey
As I went to change into my pink T-shirt and white boxers, I tried to get the mental picture of my mother and Mark kissing out of my head. I’m not talking about a peck on the lips, but more like mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
I was still changing when my mom came back in the house. I had the bedroom door closed, but I thought I heard her sigh, like a lovesick individual whose long-lost love just left on a horse, like in those old Western movies.
I finished putting on my night clothes, and then I opened the door. My mom walked right past me, like she was in some type of trance, like someone was using their hypnotic power to lure her into a pit of doom.
“MA!” I said. She jumped up, snapping out of her daze.
“What the heck is up with you?” I said, baffled by the way she was acting. My stomach was feeling queasy again.
“Honey,” she said, giggling like she was a teenager. This was ridiculous, but I had to laugh, and shook my head. The way my mom looked, I couldn’t help but be happy for her.
“I’m going to call the fire department,” I said, following my mom as she went back into the kitchen.
“Why, honey?” my mom asked, as she began to clean up.
“So they can come and put your flame out.” She hissed at me and said, “Silly girl,” with a smile on her face.
I wanted to dig deeper into their relationship, but I decided not to get into it. “Ma, you need any help?” I asked as she began to sweep.
“Oh, no, honey, I’m OK,” she said, looking down at the black-and-white tile.
Whoever built this house had no sense of style.
“OK, well, I’m going to bed, I am beat,” I said, as I yawned through my words.
As I headed out of the room, my mom said “Sissy?” in a serious tone.
“Yes, Ma,” I said, turning around.
“I’m going to let you sleep tonight…but we have a lot to talk about, young lady.”
She looked deadly serious when she said those words. I looked at her like a puppy dog, tilting my head to the side as if trying to decipher the words she was saying.
“Don’t give me that look,” my mom said with authority, although she has never been authoritative.
“OK, Ma. Yes, we do need to talk.” I wanted her to know that I understood what needed to be done.
“Alright, now, honey.” I gave my mother a kiss before I went to bed. She was right. There were things I needed to tell her, things we needed to talk about.
As I walked to my room I was contemplating telling her about Misty, my dreams about her, and most important, about the visions that haunted me in the daytime.
I walked in the bedroom and closed my door. I turned off the light and got into bed, on top of the covers because it was still hot. I knew it had to be at least eighty degrees that night.
I just rested my head on the pillows. I was too tired to care about the heat, I just wanted to let this day be over with. In just a few minutes I drifted off to sleep.
I found myself in a forest. It was a gloomy day, and everything was so green. The trees smelled of fresh pine, and the ground was covered in brown leaves and small branches that looked like they had just been broken off in a storm. Everything was covered in fog. I could barely see in front of me, the fog was so thick. The sky was gray, almost black. It seemed like early morning, dawn.
I stood there looking around, and then I heard voices. It sounded like children’s voices playing. “Ring around the rosy, pocket full of posy, ashes, ashes, we all fall down!” Laughter rang around the whole forest.
I keep circling around, trying to see where the voices were coming from. I yelled “Is someone there?”—it echoed through the forest. A dark, deep voice brushed up against my ear. NO, SISSY! The voice was a demonic sound from the underworld.
I gasped for air, and my heart stopped instantly. I looked around frantically, but no one was there. I started to run, but I couldn’t pick up my feet. Struggling to move my feet, I noticed that the ground began to open. I screamed, but no sound came out. Pulling and pulling, I tried to lift myself up out of the black hole that was trying to suck me in. Finally I gave in and let it consume me.
Everything was dark. I couldn’t breathe. I struggled in the massive black hold, and a light started to shine above me. It was a circle, like the sun, but moved in waves. As my vision began to clear up, bubbles appeared out of nowhere. I looked around, and I was swimming in a lake. How did I get here? I wondered. I tried to swim up to the top, to get some air. But my foot was caught in some branches at the bottom of the lake. I grabbed the branches and detangled my foot from the thick weeds, freeing me to swim. I kicked and struggled, and then noticed a white sweater floating near me.
I stopped struggling, and focused on the sweater. It floated in the water like a jellyfish dancing to a song. I grabbed the sweater and examined it. It looks like Misty’s sweater. All of a sudden, a hand grabbed my leg, pulling me down. I screamed through the water. The only sound that came out was the sound of bubbles forming, the sounds that my throat was making…and then I woke up.
I was still screaming; I sat up and grabbed my chest. I was afraid my heart had stopped. The dream had felt so real. I rubbed my forehead, wiping the sweat off, and tried to catch my breath. I had never had a dream like this before.
My hair was stuck to my head, I’d gotten all sweaty. When I ran my fingers through it to pull it off my neck, I found a leaf stuck in my hair. I grabbed the leaf, and looked at it. “It was just a dream,” I said to myself. Or was it?
Chapter Seven
“I swore this woman needed to become a psychologist herself. She was just that good.”
I tried hard to go back to sleep. I tossed and turned for hours, confused and scared by the leaf that was in my hair. I turned on the light to see if the leaf had come through the window. The window was open, but the screen was sealed firm, to keep the insects out. My mom couldn’t stand anything that flew. I shook my head, dismayed and curious.
I looked at the pink and purple clock next to the bed. Four o’clock. The sun was due to rise in two hours, yet there was no sign of it anywhere in the sky. The night air had cooled the room from the heat of yesterday’s desert weather.
Walking over to the bed, I picked up the leaf to examine it. This was the leaf from my dream, but how did it get out of my dream and into my hair?
I sat on the bed searching the covers for more leaves, but there were no more, just the one. My mind raced in confusion and terror. Were my dreams coming to life, or was I bugging? Maybe the cat brought it in when I wasn’t looking.
I narrowed my theories down to him. Yes, it was him, I kept telling myself. The cat with the unknown name was the suspect. I curled up in the bed with one blanket over me, and turned off the light. After about an hour I finally drifted off to sleep, satisfied with my decision.
I woke up a couple hours later, still groggy. I got up and headed to the bathroom down the hall. My mother’s door was open. I peeked in, but she wasn’t there. Then I noticed the familiar smell of bacon and biscuits filling the house. The savory aroma took me back to when I was little, when my mother cooked a big breakfast every Saturday while I watched cartoons.
What was she doing up this early cooking? I decided not to argue, as my stomach was growling like I had not eaten in days.
After I finished in the bathroom, I opened the door and the cat with the unknown name ran into the bathroom—I almost tripped over him. He ran and hopped on the toilet seat and started to drink out of the toilet bowl. Ew! I said to myself.
“Ma!” I yelled out. “Is the cat supposed to be drinking out of the toilet?” I already knew the answer to that question; I just wanted to get him into trouble.
“No,” my mother said. “He knows better than that. Stop him from doing that.”
I hissed at the cat and he hissed at me back and jumped down off the seat. I could have sworn he rolled his eyes at me.
My mom was in the kitchen pretending like she was on the Food Network, tal
king to herself as if she had her own cooking show.
“Ma, what are you doing up so early?” Nine o’clock was early for me. I liked to sleep in, since I couldn’t sleep well at night.
“Sissy, it is not that early,” she said, continuing to stir some white substances in a pot—I assumed they were grits. She was wearing her pink sunflower dress, and white house shoes.
“Ma, what are you cooking?”
“I’m cooking breakfast.” I inhaled deeply, and decided against asking her again what she’d made, knowing that it was going to be like a surprise feast for breakfast.
“Mr. Mark must be coming for breakfast,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“No, honey, it’s just me and you. I thought maybe we could catch up and talk.” I knew it was coming. I had already prepared my mind for wherever the conversation was going to go. My plan was to give my mother enough information about what was going on with me, but not so much that it would freak her out.
“OK, no problem. Hey, Ma?”
“Yes,” she said, not taking her eyes off the stove.
“What is the cat’s name?” I asked
“Angel.”
“Angel—why? He doesn’t act like one.” I eyeballed the furry thing as he sat eating at his bowl. He must have sensed we were talking about him, because he rolled his eyes at me again.
“I think he has it in for me,” I said.
“Oh, Sissy, don’t be silly. He’s just trying to get to know you.” Or set me up, I thought.
I went into the living room and sat on the couch. My mom had a big natural-looking beige corduroy couch and love seat. The backs of the couch sat far back, and if the pillows were taken away, two people could lay on it comfortably.
I wondered why my mother would get a big couch like this. Then I thought of my mother and Mr. Mark lying on the couch together, and I got nauseous. I quickly shook that image out of my head and grabbed the remote from the coffee table.
I flipped through the channels to see what was on. I did some channel surfing and then I came to a stop. I was getting the déjà vu feeling again.
“No,” I said to myself. It was happening all over again. Headlines read “Oakland International Airport Accident.”
“We’re covering our breaking story of a flight attendant who fell from a flight of stairs head-first, heading out of Oakland International Airport after her shift was over. She died on the scene.”
I sat there and stared at the TV. Tears began to well up in my eyes, and I tried to fight them back. I knew this was coming, so why should I be crying? Why am I hurt? Why is there a sharp pain inside of my chest? I began blaming myself for this…this evil gift that has been bestowed on me.
I can’t keep doing this, I said to myself. I can’t control things, even though I wish I could. Maybe I should tell my mother, so she can put me into the hospital and the doctors can diagnose me as psycho patient. I know they would put me on heavy meds. Meds that would make me feel like a zombie, not knowing who or where I was. At least I would be free from my mind, visions, and dreams.
If I watch anymore I would lose my mind…whatever is left of it. I changed the channel, and the thoughts quickly disappeared. I decided to watch cartoons, like I had in the old days. It made me feel a little more at ease.
I dried my eyes and concentrated on the Cartoon Network. They were showing old episodes of Tom and Jerry. I marveled at how the mouse, Jerry, always has a way of outsmarting the cat, Tom, who was completely oblivious to Jerry’s plots and plans. The reality is that cats have a way of hypnotizing their prey, causing them to be more subject to their attack. I guess the writers and creators had to flip the script when it came to this show.
This soothed me, and I sat there trying to think about nothing, when Angel hopped on the couch. He started to lick his mouth and in between his paws. I was going to rub him, but I decided against it because of our run-in earlier in the bathroom.
Once he finished his bath, he slowly walked over to me. I thought maybe he was going to attack me, but instead he just lay his head on my lap. I massaged his head and ears. It was so relaxing I almost fell asleep again, but I quickly snapped out of it when my mother called me.
“Sissy, breakfast is ready.”
“OK,” I called back, hopping up from the couch. Angel had fallen asleep, and my quick movement startled him.
I walked in the kitchen. My mom had already fixed my plate and set it on the table.
“Wow, Ma! Who’s going to eat all of this?” I said, looking at the massive amount of food on my plate: eggs, bacon, sausage, grits, pancakes, hash browns, and fresh fruit. And orange juice and coffee.
“Oh, honey, it’s not that much.”
“Not that much. You have got to be kidding me, Ma.”
“Well, you need to eat something, you’re thin as a pole.” I just rolled my eyes and didn’t say anything. I picked up my fork and started with the eggs, and worked my way around the plate of food. If I stayed here any longer I was going to gain ten pounds…I guess that was my mother’s plan.
She sat across from me at the table. “So how are things going, Sissy?” My mother had a way of starting a conversation without getting to the main point at first, but slowly creeping up to it, so that it throws you off, because you’re trying to figure out how the subject got switched in the first place.
“Everything is going fine, Ma,” I looked at her carefully, aware of her tricks.
“How are your classes going? Are you keeping up?”
“Ma, I am a senior now. I think I have caught on by now,” I said, biting into the crisp bacon that was just right, crunchy like I like it.
“Have you finally decided on a major?”
“Yes. Psychology.”
“Why?” my mother asked nonchalantly, sipping on her coffee. I had a feeling something was brewing, so I kept the conversation at a steady pace.
“I just want to help people. You know, find out what’s on their minds, try and stop them from making any drastic decisions. Lead and guide them.”
“Sissy, you let the good Lord lead and guide those people. You can’t save people from bad decisions. People are going to do what they want to do.”
“I know, Ma, but if I can just help someone I will feel like I’m doing a good thing for people rather than—” I stopped dead in my tracks. I didn’t want to say too much.
“Rather than what?” my mom asked, eating her fruit, not taking her eyes off of me. I had to come up with something quick before I spilled too many beans.
“Rather than ignoring them like society does.”
“Is that how you feel? That society ignores people?”
“Yes. Society would throw people away and call them crazy, rather than trying to figure out what triggered the insanity.” Like me, I wanted to say.
It wasn’t just because I had visions and dreams. I wanted to understand the mind and how it works and functions. I wanted to know why people do what they do. I figured if I could get a few logical answers, I could take these theories and run with them.
“Are you saying that you’re being ignored, which is the reason why you majored in psychology?” She looked at me with eyes so intense, they could kill a fly.
This was the switch in subject I was looking for. She already had in her mind a link. She would link up my studying psychology with the feeling of being ignored, abandoned, and thrown away. Then she would link my acting out last night in front of Mark to my feelings of being ignored, abandoned, and thrown away. I swore this woman needed to become a psychologist herself. She was just that good.
“OK, Ma, let’s get to the real subject at hand,” I said, moving my plate to the side. By this time I was completely done with my food, believe it or not.
“Sissy, honey, I am just asking questions, but now that you have mentioned it…” she said, with a grin on her face. Dang, I fell for it. I knew it was coming. “Honey, do you feel like I am abandoning you because Mark and I are engaged?” She took a forkful of pancak
es and stuffed them in her mouth.
I decided to keep this to a “yes,” “no,” and “maybe” conversation.
“Yes,” I said.
“Why do you feel that way, honey?”
I just hunched my shoulders.
“Oooh, no…you do know. Talk to me, Sissy, please.” The pleading in my mother’s voice made it sound like her heart was cracking into two. I needed to tell her the truth, but the truth would only break her heart more.
“I feel like no one understands me. I feel like the odd girl out.” I broke into tears. “I have no social life, no friends, and no boyfriends. I feel like if I get too close to someone, something bad is going to happen.” I buried my head in my hands, hoping that answer was good enough for her to leave me alone, but then I couldn’t help myself, I continued. “I fear if I get too close, I will be left with a broken heart, thinking it’s something when it’s not.” Then I cried more, because that was only part of the truth. I just had to say I feared a broken heart so it would seem like I was letting her into my mind, but not too much.
“It’s OK, honey, nothing bad is going to happen.” My mom reached over to rub my shoulder. I realized too late that I should have stuck with my yes and no responses.
“Honey, listen to me. I would never abandon you. You are my only child. I will never leave you.” She walked around the table and sat in the chair next to me, hugging me and rocking me back and forth. I caught on to that only child part. I wanted to ask, What about Misty. Was she not your child, too? But I did not want to upset her any more than she already was.
“I know, Ma. I know you would never leave me. But now you have Mark, and where do I come in? Yes, I’m in Seattle, but will you still call me early on the weekends like you do now?” I rubbed the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. I felt like we were making progress, like a huge burden had been lifted off of me.
“Yes, honey. I will still do all of those things. I will never forget about you.” She shook her head as if she was to blame for my feeling the way I do.