Dream Escape

by Sal Conte

  “A Peter?” Shay asked, soft laughter tinkling.

  “Yes. A man like Peter,” Emma said. She laughed lightly. “Although I doubt if you could ever find someone like him. He’s a keeper.”

  Shay’s eyes narrowed to a quizzical expression, and then moved away. “Yes, there was someone… once.”

  “A husband?” Emma asked, intrigued by the change in her.

  Shay sighed deeply. “It felt like it.” She smiled a mercurial smile, and ran a hand through her hair. “But no, he was my lover, darling. We were very much in love.”

  “Oh. Bad breakup?”

  “No. He died. A car crash.”

  A sudden, awkward silence arose between them, coming on like a flash fog. Emma was getting the strangest feeling. It seemed Shay had had a lot of car crashes in her life.

  She was beginning to wonder if the things Shay had told her over the past several weeks were true. She didn’t want to doubt Shay. They’d become friends, but now something seemed off about her.

  “I… I didn’t mean to put a damper on things,” said Shay, sounding apologetic.

  “It’s all right. I asked.” Emma rose abruptly. “I think I’ll go check on Dinah.”

  “I can hear her through the baby monitor. She’s sound asleep.”

  “I know,” Emma said, starting from the room. “You know how mothers can be,” she added with a short laugh. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Hey. Wanna watch a movie?” Shay called after her.

  “Sure.”

  *

  Peter entered the house and heard the movie playing on the TV in the living room down the hall. When the familiar voices from the movie came to him, a sudden chill began dancing along the nape of his neck. He stopped moving. He was getting the strange feeling of déjà vu.

  Aside from the sound of the movie, there was silence.

  A knot formed in his stomach. He rushed down the hall to the living room where he found them huddled up on the sofa like girlfriends at a sleepover, watching “Casablanca.”

  “Peter, you’re home. I didn’t hear you come in,” Emma called.

  His eyes moved from Emma to Shay to the TV.

  “I just got in,” he said in a flat tone, trying to make sense of what he was witnessing.

  “Look at what we found on Netflix. Emma tells me it’s your favorite movie,” said Shay. “It’s mine, too. Want to join us?”

  Peter’s eyes settled on his wife, Emma. This is too strange. She knows something. What did Kim tell her?

  “Umm, no. Tired,” he managed, glancing quickly at Kim. Mischief danced in her azure eyes.

  “You sure?” Kim said, patting a spot on the sofa next to her.

  “Yeah. I’m sure,” he muttered, and left the room.

  “Sourpuss,” He heard Emma whisper loudly as he moved down the hall. A wave of girlish giggles followed.

  He went into the bedroom and closed the door.

  He plopped heavily down on the bed and began hyperventilating. His breathing was quick and ragged. It was as if he were a drowning man, struggling for air.

  Kim had climbed out of his dream. He didn’t know how she’d gotten out, but she was out, damnit!

  When he’d gone into the dream at Dream Escapes earlier, he’d recognized Audrey as a business woman he’d admired a few mornings at the local Starbucks. The woman’s name wasn’t Audrey. He didn’t know her name. Audrey was a name he playfully assigned to her.

  Somehow his mental image of the Audrey woman had taken Kim’s place in the dream, and Kim was now down the hall sitting in his living room yucking it up with his wife.

  This ends tonight, he thought.

  As his thoughts became clear, the panic attack subsided. He realized he was sweating profusely, rivers of perspiration running down his back while sweaty dew condensed on his brow.

  He sat up and listened. Dinah’s rhythmic breathing drifted in through the baby monitor on the dresser. He envisioned Robbie, sleeping soundly in his well-lit shrine. The children were the most important people in the world to him. He needed to get Kim away from them. He needed to get Kim away from Emma. He needed to get rid of her, once and for all.

  With this realization, the darkness came swirling back, filling his belly with its ochre ooze. It billowed up into his chest and head. By the time he got to his feet he was filled with the darkness. It felt good. It felt right. He knew what he had to do.

  He slowly began removing his clothing, then went into the bathroom and took a steaming, cleansing shower.

  When Emma came to bed, he pretended to be asleep.

  She was giggling, tipsy from the wine. She nudged him playfully, tried talking to him, but when he didn’t stir, she kissed him lightly on the forehead, and climbed into bed next to him.

  He lay silent and still, waiting an hour until he heard her breathing heavily, and then another twenty minutes to make certain she was deeply asleep. Emma wasn’t usually a sound sleeper. He was counting on the late night and the wine to keep her from hearing anything.

  He eased out of bed, careful not to rock. He kept a keen eye on her as he padded softly across the room. Arriving at the baby monitor on the dresser, he turned it off. This was one night he needed for Emma to remain asleep.

  He moved to the door, and began opening it slowly. It was a creaky door. On several occasions Emma had asked him to oil the hinges. He’d always forgotten to do it. Now, he wished he had.

  It took several heart-in-mouth minutes—pull, creak, pull, creak—to get the door open and shut. Once it was closed behind him, he stood quietly listening intently, making sure she was still asleep on the other side. Once he was certain she hadn’t awakened, he moved down the hall to the basement door.

  Quickly, he traversed the basement stairs. He arrived at the bottom and took in a deep breath. This was it. While the area was dark, there was a faint glow, as if from a children’s nightlight, coming from her room. Unlike his last trip downstairs, the door was ajar.

  It’s as if she’s waiting for me, he thought. No, that’s impossible. Why would she be waiting tonight?

  As he dismissed the thought and moved toward the door, another thought occurred. Maybe she waits for me every night.

  He arrived at the door, took in a deep breath, and yes, the fragrance of Evening in Paris greeted him. His skin was tingling with anticipation. His hands were damp with fresh sweat. His mind was set to what had to be done. He pushed the door open, and entered.

  Chapter Ten

  The room was lit by gauzy blue light from a lamp on an end table. It gave off an airy, almost dreamlike glow. An oversized framed photograph of Casablanca in the forties dominated one of the walls.

  Kim was lying in bed atop the sheets wearing a sexy nightgown that highlighted her smooth curves. She smiled as he entered.

  She is waiting for me.

  “Hi,” she whispered, just as she’d whispered dozens of times in the past.

  The saliva in his mouth turned to sand.

  “What are you doing here?” he uttered, his voice coming as a scratchy whisper. He could feel his plan falling apart. She was totally unnerving him. Could he have done the thing he came to do?

  Kim sat up, her catlike movement titillating. The gauzy light toyed with the sheer fabric of her nightgown, illuminating her lovely breasts.

  “I’m your nanny. I’m here to take care of your children,” she replied in a teasing tone.

  “What are you doing here!” he repeated. His voice came as a shriek. A jolt of rage, like a stab from a hot poker pierced his belly.

  His marriage, his children were the most important things to him. Yeah, he worked a lot, maybe too much, but he wasn’t going to let her, a fantasy, a dream, ruin all that he had worked for.

  The darkness swirled back into his belly, and the answer came to him. Yes, he could do it. Maybe not to a real person, not to a human being, but she was a dream.

  His hands curled to claws. He knew what he had to do. He began moving toward her. Her eyes were
on him, teasing, prodding, daring him to kill her.

  “Shay?” came Emma’s voice from outside the basement door.

  He stopped, his breath dying in his lungs, as his eyes bounced from Kim to the door, Kim to the door.

  “What is it, Emma, darling? Is it Dinah?” Kim asked, totally in control.

  “No, the kids are asleep. I was wondering… have you seen Peter?

  Omygod, omygod, omygod!

  He looked at her, wild eyed, his eyes beseeching.

  Kim stared at him for a thoughtful moment that seemed to stretch to the ends of the earth.

  “No,” she replied, after an eternity. “Maybe he’s in the nursery.”

  “He’s not there. I checked,” said Emma.

  “Well, I haven’t seen him.” Her eyes were on Peter the entire time. He couldn’t tell if she was mocking him, or protecting him, or both.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you. Go back to sleep,” Emma called.

  Peter crept to the door, and listened as she moved up the basement stairs.

  “You asked me what I was doing here,” Kim said. He turned and faced her. The light now danced in her beautiful blue eyes. “My question is what are you doing here? Don’t you belong somewhere else?”

  “There is nowhere else,” he called out. He didn’t move toward her. The fight had tumbled out of him. He felt beaten, and confused.

  “I’m the nanny,” she said after a moment. There was defiance to her tone. “I take care of the children. And I don’t plan on leaving until I get what I came for.”

  He wanted to ask what did you come for? But he knew that was an idiot’s question. She’d emerged from a dream, a figment of his own imagination. A figment so real, he’d fallen in love with her, and she with him. He nodded weakly because the sad thing of it was in some strange way, he still loved her.

  He knew what she came for. She’d come for him. And if she stayed around long enough, she’d have him… one way or the other.

  Peter turned, and like a dog retreating with its tail between its legs, left the room.

  *

  Emma was having doubts. Not about herself. She was having doubts about allowing Shay into her home, and around her family.

  She could have sworn she heard voices coming from Shay’s room, and that one of the voices belonged to her husband. She didn’t want to believe it, but she felt as though he was on the other side of the basement door waiting for her to leave.

  When she asked where he’d been, he lied to her, claiming he’d gone outside to search around the house because he thought he heard noises. Please! Going outside to discover a possible intruder was dangerous, and Peter wasn’t the risk taking type. Besides, she hadn’t heard a thing. The only thing she was certain she’d heard was voices coming from the other side of Shay’s door.

  She thought back to Molly’s warning. Do you want to become a statistic? Molly was right. She was so caught up in learning Ionic, she’d taken her eyes off of what was really important—her marriage and her family. And now that hussy, Shay, was swooping in on her.

  She lay in bed, not able to fall back asleep. She knew Peter was laying wide awake right next to her. Several times she’d wanted to turn over and confront him. But something, call it a stab at hope, wanted to be wrong. She wanted to wake up in the morning with the sun streaming in the window, and see things differently. In the light of day, she wanted to believe it had been the wine talking, and that it was silly to wonder about Shay.

  She didn’t go to sleep, and the sun came up. The wine had dissipated, and she wasn’t looking at things differently. She heard Dinah stirring, and then she heard Shay in the nursery, singing to her.

  How dare that bitch sing to my baby?

  She was feeling angry, and stupid, and confused. When she couldn’t take the pressure of her betrayer lying just six inches away any longer, she got out of bed, went into the bathroom, and had a good cry.

  *

  He couldn’t sleep.

  He lay next to Emma listening to the sound of her breathing and could tell she was as wide awake as he was. He wouldn’t roll over and face her, though. How could he look her in the eye? She’d let him get away with the lie, but he could tell, she doubted him.

  He doubted himself.

  How on earth could he ever save his marriage when he was too much of a coward to do what had to be done to get rid of Kim? As he lay there, it occurred to him he’d always been weak. Emma was his strength, had always been the seat of his strength, his power, but he was too blind to see it.

  She was a star programmer when he’d met her, blazing new trails with the internet startup, and he was just the guy who did the legal. Nothing exciting about him but his smile. He was a paint by the numbers kind of guy, never, ever venturing outside the lines.

  That’s what made Dream Escapes perfect for him. He didn’t have to risk anything to have an adventure. It was a dream, a fantasy… until it wasn’t.

  When morning came, Emma got up and went into the bathroom. He hopped out of bed, and dressed quickly. I don’t want to be here when she gets back, he thought. He was going to go down to the coffee shop, have a cup of coffee… a pot of coffee, if that’s what it took, and figure out his next move.

  That was the plan, but that’s not what happened because as Peter was getting dressed, he glanced over at Emma’s bureau, saw the shiny stone lying there. He recognized it instantly, and the darkness within, the darkness that had led him to attempt the deadly thing, began to swirl once again.

  *

  “What is this?”

  When she walked back into the room he was holding the stone in his hand. She was wearing the dowdy sweats that had become her uniform of late. She looked at him with eyes puffy from worry and lack of sleep. He must have appeared as a mad man to her, standing there his own eyes filled with violence.

  “It’s the stone—”

  “The stone? The STONE. I know it’s a stone, Emma. Where did you get this?” he said, brandishing the shiny stone as if it were a piece of evidence he was parading in front of a jury for dramatic effect.

  “I told you about it. It’s the stone Claudia had used to get Dinah quiet that day. Shay found it. Dinah had it in her mouth. She could have choked on it,” Emma offered as an excuse.

  Emma’s words slammed into him as if he’d been walloped in the chest by a two-by-four. He took a staggering step backwards. His eyes creased as if in pain as he tried to put the pieces together.

  “Peter, you’re having another dizzy spell.”

  “No,” he said, his voice going small. He moved to the bed and sat down heavily. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think we need to fire Shay,” he said, his voice coming from a hollowed out hole inside.

  “What?” Emma exclaimed. He was too preoccupied with his tale to notice that her voice was laced with both surprise, and yet delight.

  “I…I didn’t want to say this, but I have reason to believe Shay stole your dress.”

  “My dress?”

  “The birthday dress that I bought you… that’s missing… that went missing right after you showed it to Shay,” Peter said, putting the pieces together for her. “I don’t want to get into it, but I have reason to believe she… stole it,” he said, his voice going even smaller.

  It was a coward’s way out. He knew it. But he was weak, had always been weak. He was a drowning man grasping at straws.

  “Peter, Shay didn’t steal the dress. It fell off the hangar and got lodged behind a box in back of the closet. I meant to tell you I found it, but I forgot.”

  Peter was suddenly a full mast schooner in dying wind. He could feel the fight going out of him like air out of a flat tire.

  “Oh,” he said, as his trumped up anger diminished.

  After a moment’s silence, Emma said: “But, I’ve been thinking about Shay as well. There’s something not right about her. She’s not the one.”

  He looked up at his wife, a beam of bright sunlight breaking through the storm clouds. �
��You don’t trust her with the children?”

  “Yes, I do. Shay is great with the kids. It’s… something else.”

  “What?” he asked, his heart in his mouth.

  She looked at him a moment before responding. “I don’t think she likes you.”

  “What?” he repeated. It was the last thing he expected for her to say. He knew this was a test. He was never much of a poker player, could never master the poker face, but he needed to now. “What are you talking about?” he asked, attempting to appear incredulous.

  She scanned his face searching for a tell. He wasn’t going to give her one.

  “Call it woman’s intuition,” she said. “A woman knows these things.” She smiled. “Don’t worry. I still like you.”

  He smiled back, getting the feeling he was a better poker player than he’d ever given himself credit for.

  “When?” he asked, trying not to sound too eager. “Should I—”

  “No. It has to be me,” Emma said. “I hired her. We’ve become… friends. Give me a few days. I’ll call the agency. Just try to act normal around her while I work things out. Okay?”

  “Okay,” he said. “I love you,” he added. He felt guilty saying it, but it was true. He loved his wife and his family more than anything.

  It’s coming to an end, he thought. In a little while, she’ll be gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  The moonstone was the first token of their love.

  They were lying in bed, had just finished another night of passion that left them exhausted, yet satiated, and giggling like children.

  “I think you just topped yourself,” he said.

  “You think?” she responded with mock contempt.

  This induced another wave of uncontrollable giggles.

  “Okay, okay. Baby, you just topped yourself,” he said, amending his phrase.

  “Just doing my part for the resistance,” Kim replied, and rolled over onto her back, allowing the moonlight streaming in to dance along her perfect body.