Escapism (The Escapism Series)

by Maria Dee

  “I was just passing through your neighborhood and thought I’d say hello,” he said softly.

  I expected him to call at the most or VT but this was utterly unexpected. Regardless, I was pleasantly surprised.

  Nicholas raised his eyebrows in anticipation. “So…hello.” It sounded more like a question than a greeting. He took a step back while he swept wet strands of hair out of his line of vision.

  I didn’t want him to leave.

  “You go for long walks in the rain?” I asked.

  “Don’t you?” he asked, playfully. “Actually, my car stalled not far from here and I remembered where you lived.”

  I opened the door slightly wider as he stood on the porch, shielded from the rain.

  “Would you like to come in?” I asked.

  He looked up as if the rain was only a minor inconvenience. “Yes,” he said, quietly.

  I opened the door wider, invitingly.

  “Are you alone?” he asked.

  “Uh-huh. My mother is at a meeting. Apparently it’s worth risking her life—she’s a workaholic,” I explained.

  Nicholas smiled divinely. “Nice place,” he said, straining to see through the darkness.

  “Thanks,” I replied. “Let me take your jacket.”

  Nicholas gladly removed the layer of wetness that clung to his body.

  “Wait here a minute,” I said, escorting him to the living room. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  I briskly hopped up the stairs to my bedroom, lighting a few candles along the way. To my dismay, I looked in the mirror appalled by my disheveled hair and messy room—I could only deal with one at the moment. I quickly brushed my hair, and applied some blush and lip-gloss. I dabbed some perfume behind each earlobe and on my wrists. The illuminating blush was guaranteed to give me a sheer glow, according to the saleslady from the department store. Even though it was dark, the lights could come on at any minute and I could not run the risk of looking like a train wreck.

  On my way down the hall, I picked up a few things from my parents’ closet before returning. Nicholas stood in the living room examining family photos and the bizarre art that my mother hung on the wall.

  “Something to help you dry off with,” I said, handing him a towel.

  He took the towel to his face and hair.

  “Thank you,” he smiled and examined the clothing in my hands.

  “I thought you might like something dry to change into.” I handed him a T-shirt, a pair of jeans and sweat pants from my father’s trendy collection of clothing that my mother bought for him with the original price tags still on.

  “I don’t know if they will fit, but they’re dry.”

  “Thank you, Xenia,” he said, obliged.

  We stood in the living room awkwardly examining one another. Then, Nicholas began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Oh. Right,” I said, embarrassed. I covered my eyes quickly turning away. “I’ll give you some privacy. Would you like something to drink?”

  “Sure,” he replied. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  While heading over to the kitchen, I hit my shin against the coffee table and growled, “Ouch. Damn it.”

  “Are you okay?” he hurried over, with a candle in hand. I could smell the vanilla escaping as the swaying flame melted the wax.

  “I’m fine, really. It’s nothing.” I cringed while rubbing my shin. You would think that after growing up in this house, I would have a better sense of my surroundings.

  “Here, take this candle with you. I’ll light another.” His gentle hands placed the candle securely in my own. The dancing flicker of candlelight, excitedly illuminated his bare chest.

  “We just redecorated,” I uttered with a sigh.

  Nicholas bit his lip, subduing a smile.

  I paid closer attention to my surroundings during my second attempt through the darkness. I searched the wine cabinet for some chardonnay and returned with two wine glasses and a bottle.

  “No plans for tonight?” Nicholas asked while he poured the wine.

  “Nope. I felt like staying in. As a matter of fact, I considered going for a long walk in the rain,” I teased.

  “Rain can be soothing, you know, especially when you need to blow off steam,” he assured.

  “It’s soothing? Being cold, wet, and a lightning target?”

  “It’s invigorating,” he beamed, pleasantly entertained. “Aside from being cold, wet and a lightning target. You should try it.”

  “No thanks. I like being warm and cozy.” I wiggled into the sofa.

  His eyes intently glossed over my body before he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Well, then, what does Xenia do in her spare time?”

  “I do a lot of things.” Although, I couldn’t think of anything spectacular to say.

  “Like?” Nicholas slumped into the couch. His eyes were excited by my sudden elusiveness.

  “Uh, well, I like to work out for starters.”

  “That, I already know. And you don’t need to work out. You’re in great shape.”

  I flushed a deep shade of red, fortunately indiscernible in the dark. I accepted the compliment as best as I could—a sheepish smile while looking away.

  “I play sports on occasion. I like to read a wide genre of books, mostly classics.” That was a stretch. I liked magazines, mostly for the pretty pictures inside but he didn’t need to know that.

  He glanced at the coffee table and reached for a book in the wicker basket.

  “Ah. I spot a classic before us,” Nicholas said, examining the book. “You like romance novels, do you?” he winked playfully.

  Horrified, I lunged toward him reaching for the book. “No, that’s actually my mother’s. She doesn’t like it when people touch her belongings,” I snarled.

  “Let me read some of it first,” he hurried over to the kitchen counter and read me a passage.

  “His mouth caressed her neck hungrily, possessively. She felt a moment’s hesitation when he laid her on the sheets right before he pulled off his clothes. Oh, how she wished there was light.”

  “Please stop,” I begged, completely mortified. I had borrowed the book from Marla who was hooked on romance novels. Dreadfully, I had become addicted too.

  Nicholas raised an eyebrow while reading the next passage to himself.

  “Hmm. I’ll stop here,” he hummed, returning the book to its original spot.

  We continued our strained conversation in the living room, drinking the much needed wine.

  “Maybe we can work out together sometime?” he proposed.

  Another rumble of thunder struck and I shivered. He reached for a fleece blanket and placed it over my shoulders. His hands softly touched my skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps.

  “Your skin is so cold,” he said as he rubbed the blanket over my shoulders.

  “Thanks.” I felt warmer by the second. To address his prior question, I answered, “Yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “To working out sometime.”

  “Excellent. Do you like running?”

  “Do you mean, like, marathons? Because I don’t do marathons—I find them very unpleasant. I jog but it’s completely circumstantial. Like, if I’m having a bad day or I need a boost, something like that,” I rambled, nervously.

  “Okay then,” he said, snickering, “I have an idea. Instead of working out, how about we just stick to movies.”

  “That all depends,” I said, warily.

  “On?” he raised his brow.

  “What kind of movies do you like?”

  “Uh, the kind of movies that you like?” he asked, submissively.

  “Yay!” I exclaimed. “We shall get along quite nicely then.”

  “What are we going to watch tonight?”

  I got up and checked the home entertainment center, placing some DVDs on the couch in front of him. “I’ve got to see if my DVD player has enough battery life.” I had not charged it for days, and stupid me l
eft it running while I napped earlier.

  Nicholas examined each DVD cover, carefully forming two piles.

  “Oh crap. There’s just under half battery power remaining. That’s enough for a movie, if we’re lucky.”

  “There goes our movie marathon,” he groaned, playfully. “What else is there to do?”

  “What about cards? I think I have cards, somewhere around here,” I whispered.

  My heart jumped at the sound of lightning striking. I couldn’t send him back out there in the Armageddon-like storm. “I should get you some blankets and linens for the spare room. You can’t go back out there in this weather.”

  “What’ll your parents think?”

  I held my hands out like a scale, weighing our options. “We have a guest room and it appears you are a guest. You qualify to stay in the guest room. It’s the hospitable thing to do.” I smiled as I got up from the couch.

  Nicholas nodded graciously. “I don’t require much really.”

  “Let me get the room ready for you. I’ll show you the way.” I turned my back to him, yet every inch of my body felt his presence.

  We climbed the wooden stairs and I skipped over the single creaky wooden step by habit as I did in high school when returning home past curfew. Nicholas followed suit, having caught on.

  I turned around and he winked at me. He was more observant than I gave him credit for.

  “If you need any toiletries, help yourself to whatever is in the bathroom. Towels are in the closet by the washroom.”

  I gave him a quick tour of the upper level before proceeding to make up his bed. I awkwardly shifted out of his way as he passed in front of me heading toward the bathroom. Partly germaphobic and a smidge OCD about certain household arrangements—nothing actually clinically diagnosed, just my own observation—I neatly made the bed up just like my mother.

  The sound of water through the pipes came to a halt by the washroom, signaling my cue to exit from the guest room. I gathered the wicker basket with the spare linens and supplies before returning to the hallway to put the excess back into the closet.

  Shortly after, Nicholas walked through the doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist. His upper body glistened, and I struggled to breathe.

  “Do you need something?” I gasped in a high pitch while busying myself with the contents of the hall closet.

  “My clothes,” he whispered, signaling to the clothes I had tucked away in the hall closet along with the linens.

  “Oh, right. Sorry. I don’t know how that happened,” I said, retrieving the garments, handing them back.

  “Thanks, Xenia,” he replied, smiling amiably.

  After he shut the guest room door, I managed to breathe again before retiring to my room to change. Feeling parched, I revisited the kitchen for some water.

  Nicholas reappeared in sweats and a white undershirt. His face looked flushed and warm from his shower. “Care for a nightcap? We could watch part of a movie until your laptop bails or better yet, read a classic,” he said, motioning toward Marla’s book. His lips curved up devilishly—seductively.

  “I’ll fix us some drinks,” I said, avoiding eye contact. Although I was thrilled that he did not want the night to end, I was still on edge. “

  “No, let me. In the meantime, you can select a movie,” he replied and I nodded, favorably.

  “So you know, I do read actual classics. I have a whole book shelf of them in my room if you’d care to see.” Just as the words came out of my mouth, I quickly recoiled, clearing my throat. “The drinks aren’t going to make themselves.”

  He heaved a sigh, amicably.

  He was in the kitchen for some time while I sat comfortably on the sofa. I ran my fingers through my hair scrunching the ends. After I looked through the first stack of movies, Nicholas reappeared.

  He handed me a glass and sat beside me.

  “What should we toast to?” I asked, engrossed by his very presence.

  Nicholas deliberated, “Hmm…to rain?”

  “To rain,” I repeated, grinning sheepishly. I took a sip and nearly gagged. “Mmm,” I said, feigning delight.

  He sipped and scowled, “Oh God, wow that’s strong.”

  I wiped my tongue against my shirt. “It’s tart. I’m guessing you used the red bottle?”

  “Yeah, I believe it was.”

  “That’s cherry juice—pure concentrate.”

  “Ah,” he said, nodding, “That explains it. Sorry.”

  “It’s alright. Nothing a little water can’t fix,” we laughed in unison.

  The rain came down harder and I shivered as the air around me excited my skin in an oddly familiar way. He placed his drink down while slowly edging closer to me, looking for any sign of discomfort in my body language.

  In the heat of the moment, my memories resurfaced of the night we first met. His façade was starting to wear thin and, although we neglected to bring it up, it was time we addressed what had happened at Landon’s party.

  “Should I know you?” I asked.

  He hesitated, studying me patiently as I leaned in closer to him.

  “I can help you remember,” he whispered, running the back of his fingers softly down the side of my cheek. His hand edged behind my neck, gently pulling me closer while his lips pressed against my neck, moving toward my jaw. I groaned as his lips gently parted mine. Oh no. Not now. What happened next was out of my control. I lost myself in a series of flashes, no longer in Nicholas’ warm embrace.

  I saw a huge plot of desolate land intermittently between rubbing my eyes—I was reliving a memory it seemed. I played with another child in a garden. A lady in a white uniform—a nurse—called me in.

  “Xenia! Back inside. It’s time for your nap, dear,” called Betsy, a short, thin young woman with red hair tied back in a braid. Her face was both familiar and pleasant as she waved me in from afar.

  “I don’t want to go inside. I want to play.” I stomped my feet hard on the ground, feeling the earth vibrate right back at me equally as aggressive.

  “Five more minutes and then you must,” she said, firmly.

  “Yes, nurse Betsy.” I turned around and my little companion had vanished. “Where’d he go?”

  “Who were you playing with Xenia?” she asked. Her face strained with worry.

  “Ten. But he’s gone now,” I said, sullenly.

  “Xenia, you shouldn’t fib. Let’s go inside,” she demanded. She led me through a big set of automatic doors that scanned us before entry. The interior was spacious and white as we weaved through a series of halls to a room filled with consecutively numbered beds. Above each bed were plasma screens and wires connected to metal looking helmets of sorts.

  I ran up to a girl directly adjacent to my bed, fast asleep. I placed my tiny hand on top of hers. nurse Betsy read her file and, without looking up, she asked, “Why are you giggling, Xenia?”

  “She said a bad word,” I whispered, staring at the girl’s screen attached to a box with wires and tubes connected to the metallic headpiece.

  Nurse Betsy asked curiously, “What did Nine say to you?”

  “She doesn’t like nurse Maggie very much,” I whispered.

  She humored me, whispering, “Oh, I see.”

  As I looked up at Nine’s screen, through the eyes of my child self, I felt my heart skip a beat. I saw myself sitting in the garden with her while she whispered in my ear. Nurse Betsy looked up and watched in awe, while writing things down rigorously.

  “Xenia, come back here! You need to take a nap,” she dropped her clipboard, gripping my shoulders and shaking me a little.

  I looked at Nurse Betsy and released Nine’s hand. I obeyed and traveled back, feeling and seeing the sparks of electricity as I shifted.

  “Where’s Ten? His bed is empty,” I asked.

  “Never mind him right now. It’s time for bed. Hop in,” she ordered. Her face appeared overwrought by an unknown threat.

  “Will he be back, Nurse Betsy?” I asked.
The room felt hollow without him beside me.

  “No, honey. Lucas—Ten—is gone,” she replied.

  She tucked me in snuggly and placed the same metal band over my head. She walked toward the exit, turning around to strain a smile although her eyes were filled with worry.

  “He’s not gone,” I said, smiling while my eyes remained shut.

  Nurse Betsy stumbled on her way out, making a loud rattling sound. She watched in disbelief as Lucas sat in the middle of my screen, angrily picking at the grass in the garden.

  I gasped as I reopened my eyes, which ached from an icy breeze comparable to that of walking in the middle of a winter storm. Although my body acclimated, I could not shake the feeling of reliving a memory.

  Nicholas brushed a strand of hair from my face as I regained awareness of my surroundings. His presence placated my erratic breathing—I felt safe with him around. Things had been warm and normal just seconds earlier. I couldn’t catch a break. God!

  “Xenia, tell me. What did you see?”

  “I—I can’t be sure. It felt like a familiar place, but I’ve never seen it before,” I choked as the words came out of my mouth, “It was a dome.”

  Nicholas’ body language changed into an alarmed state as he waited for me to elaborate.

  “It’s you,” I whispered, “From the moment I’ve met you, things haven’t been right. These visions or travels—whatever you call them—aren’t normal.”

  Nicholas grimaced while moving closer to me.

  “I didn’t ask for this either. I wasn’t planning to stay very long and then I saw you…” his thoughts trailed off somewhere unfathomable. The color of his eyes intermixed entirely, forming a gray and black swirl in each iris. I could tell that he strained desperately to prevent the change as his eyes redefined into the distinct color—gray with black spokes converging in the middle of each pupil—that I had dreamt of each night.

  “No. It’s you, Xenia. You keep me here longer than I should be at times,” he countered.

  “What? Where do I keep you from?”

  “From the transitory world, Styx.”

  “Oh. I’ve been there recently.” This was adding credence to Kiran’s vivid tale of two worlds, the portal, and all other weird things. “Why do you need to be in Styx?”