Dream Escape

by Sal Conte

  Molly had taken a liking to Holmes’s collection of Big Band records from the forties. Holmes had amassed quite a collection of seventy-eights and LPs. Tommy Dorsey was his favorite.

  When Molly wasn’t caring for the man, she’d spend her evenings sitting with him, listening to the music he loved. Sometimes she’d get him up, and against his gentle protests, dance him around the room for hours on end. They laughed and sang together. She’d sing “I’ll never smile again until I smile at you.” Holmes loved that the best.

  He played into Molly’s hands, mistaking the time she spent with him for love. Against his grown children’s wishes, they got married on a Saturday morning in November.

  It was a less than lavish affair, held on the patio of Holmes’ Alabama estate, far from the opulent affairs Holmes had attended in his Enron days. There were only two guests: the judge who performed the ceremony, and their witness, the day nurse.

  Molly and Emory celebrated that night drinking Coca Cola, and listening to big band recordings on the stereo. They danced the boogie-woogie. Holmes began making plans to go back to work. He told Molly she was the rejuvenating formula he needed, and he was lucky to have her. Two months later, he was dead.

  By the time of his death, Molly, fueled by her hatred for the man, had lost her sense of value. Her true sense of justice had devolved into a quiet madness.

  As far as she was concerned, her greatest accomplishment was in succeeding to estrange Holmes from his grown children. He didn’t leave them a penny of his blood money. Molly knew it was too late to do anything for her father. She vowed to use the money to fight for the little guy.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Emma was feeling guilty.

  For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why. After all, it was Peter who’d had the affair. It was Peter who had his girlfriend living under their roof. And it was Peter who came up with the whopper of an excuse when his deception had been discovered.

  So why am I feeling guilty?

  This was supposed to be her quiet time. She was sitting in the kitchen having morning tea. After the circus that was breakfast, and after getting Robbie to sit still in front of the TV to watch Disney Junior, she and Shay had gotten into the habit of tea and girl talk.

  Lately, she’d been having tea alone.

  She missed Shay.

  Wait a minute! She did not miss the conniving bitch who’d wormed her way into her husband’s heart and enchanted her children. That person could go to h-e-double hockey sticks. Rather, she missed the friendship she thought she’d developed, the sanity saving adult conversation she got to have during the day.

  Today she was spending her quiet time alone, and she was feeling guilty.

  When she called and told the Mobilsift people something had come up, and that she couldn’t make it to Palo Alto for the interview, they very graciously agreed to Skype the interview.

  “That’s one of the many advantages to living in a technological world,” the man had said.

  She should have begged off, told him the timing wasn’t right. But she didn’t. She didn’t because the door was now open for her to leave Peter, take the children, move to Palo Alto, and begin her career again. It’s not often one gets the chance at a do-over. Emma had been offered a do-over on a silver platter.

  She aced the interview.

  She talked Ionic as if she’d been working with the application her whole life. Before she signed off, they told her the job was hers, if she wanted it.

  So why am I feeling guilty?

  She knew why. Her guilt was the consequence of her own deception.

  Peter had tried several times to talk to her, but she wouldn’t hear it. He’d barely get a word out before she began hurling accusations at him. As long as she was puffed up with outrage, she didn’t have to look at herself in the mirror and see her own secret scrawled across her face.

  She never told Peter the truth about the job. Never told him the job was not in Los Angeles, but all the way in Palo Alto.

  So what?

  She tried telling herself that was no reason to feel guilty. His deception was far greater than mine. He had an AFFAIR.

  That morning, as Emma sipped her tea, she realized how much she needed someone with whom she could talk things through. She kept telling herself she had every reason in the world to feel victorious, every reason to feel elated. She had ZERO reason to feel guilty, and yet she did.

  Emma was in need of a friend.

  *

  “Come watch me, Daddy.” Robbie was climbing through the large blue rings with another boy his age. They were in a park a half mile from the house. It was Robbie’s favorite.

  “I can see you from here, Trooper,” Peter called over to his son.

  He was standing nearby, holding onto Dinah who was doing her damndest to walk. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she breezed right past crawling, and was climbing through the rings along with her older brother.

  Peter felt lucky that Emma had given him easy access to the kids. Every time he asked to see them she said yes. As long as it wasn’t at the house. She wasn’t ready for that yet.

  Several weeks had gone by, and she wasn’t ready to have the conversation about their future, either. Every time he tried, things spiraled quickly into vitriol and name calling.

  “Just let me take you to the place,” he’d said on several occasions.

  “For what? So I can meet your dream girl? By the way, tell her to come get her things before I throw them away.”

  “If you just let me show you.”

  “Show me where you had your affair?”

  And then the name calling would begin.

  He thought that after a few weeks her anger would subside, and she’d be ready to listen to reason. And okay, he realized for reason she was going to have to venture to the outskirts of her imagination.

  But I can prove it, he’d said time and again. She had no desire to see his proof. He wondered if she ever would.

  The woman in the dark glasses and trench coat on the far off bench had glanced in his direction several times. She was an odd character, dressed like a female spy from a nineteen forties film. Aside from her choice of wardrobe on such a lovely day, he didn’t give her much thought until she was on her feet, and moving toward him.

  That’s when the alarm bells in his head went off.

  “Robbie, get over here,” he called as he corralled Dinah into his arms, and prepared to put her in the stroller. Fear tickled his belly.

  “Not now, Daddy. I’m playing “Star Wars,”” Robbie called back. He was exuberantly digging in dirt.

  Peter started to call his son again, but he didn’t want to alarm the child. So he pulled Dinah in close, and stood his ground.

  She squirmed in his arms, wanting to get down.

  “Pretty soon she’ll be hunting for dinosaur bones along with Robbie,” Kim said. She was standing in front of him.

  Dinah continued fighting in his grasp. She began to whine in protest. Several parents and nannies in the park gazed over at him.

  “It’s okay, Peter. I understand how you feel, but I’m not going to hurt the children. I love them.”

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “Just to talk,” she said. She removed the dark glasses revealing red-rimmed eyes.

  He put Dinah down, but held onto her as she started trying to walk. It was an awkward, zombie two-step, but she had a smile on her face.

  “Okay,” he said, as he guided his daughter’s steps away from Kim. “Talk!”

  “Can we sit... like civilized people?”

  He sighed heavily. There were lots of families and nannies in the park. He’d have help if she tried anything.

  “Okay,” he said after a few moments.

  They sat on a nearby bench. “First, let me say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

  He nodded stiffly.

  “I’m sorry about that as well.” She pointed to the healing wound on his forehead.
“I came into your home because I thought if I could jog your memory, you’d remember how much you loved me.”

  He snorted out a chuckle. “I didn’t need a jog for that. Or a picture frame upside the head.” His tone turned serious. “I always remembered you. How could I forget you?” He felt embarrassed to say it, but it was true. His time with Kim had been wonderful.

  “But I don’t belong in your world,” she said. It was a question that loomed in her eyes.

  “No,” he said softly. “You don’t. You’re my fantasy girl. I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but that’s the truth. You belong in a dream. How did you get out?”

  Kim clapped her hands, calling to Dinah. “Hi, Dinah.”

  Dinah perked up, and started for her.

  “No!” Peter said, grabbing his daughter who immediately began to protest.

  “Peter, I’m not going to harm her. I promise. I miss them.”

  Peter looked into Kim’s eyes, and wondered if he was doing the right thing. He let go of his child.

  The baby came to Kim easily, striding through the gap that separated them without falling down. Kim held Dinah up as she talked.

  “I didn’t understand what was happening the first time I was pushed out of the dream. I was afraid. I didn’t know where I was. One moment we were in bed, and the next, I was in a void.”

  “A void? Pushed out?” A million questions, like shooting stars, fired through Peter’s mind.

  “Yes. I was pushed out of the dream at least a dozen times. After a while, I overcame my fear and began to explore the void. I quickly learned it was a portal to this world. Your world.”

  “What was pushing you out?” Peter asked, wondering if it was a glitch in the program.

  “Not what, who. Another woman began taking my place in your dream. I didn’t know where she came from at first.”

  Peter felt as though his head was spinning. “Are you saying I wasn’t… with you?”

  “Not all the time, no.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I don’t know. I… thought it was part of it. I thought that was how you’d set it up. But then you stopped coming. I waited for you, Peter.” She was beginning to get emotional. “After a while, I went searching for the portal. I found it, and came looking for you.

  “I found you, and observed you with your family. You seemed to be going through the motions with Emma. You didn’t seem to love her at all. So I placed myself in your life to remind you of what you were missing with me, the woman you loved.”

  “I wasn’t going through any motions,” Peter said in quick defense. “Okay, maybe I was… for a time. But I love my wife. I love my family.”

  “I know you do. It took me the longest time to accept that, Peter, but I now know that you do.” Kim was looking at him, sadness tinting her azure eyes.

  “About this woman?” he said, circling back. “You say you didn’t know who she was at first?” He left the question unfinished.

  “I didn’t. She took my place in the dream so I never got a chance to look at her. I had no idea who she was until the night I saw her in your kitchen. I felt her energy, and I knew it was her. I knew she loved you as much as I do, and that she’d do anything to have you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Molly was seated across from Emma in the Hathaway kitchen. She still could not believe she was actually there.

  “You have no idea how hard it’s been,” Emma said, and began weeping softly.

  “Oh, you poor thing,” said Molly. She reached across the kitchen table and took Emma’s hand. “Tell me. Tell me everything. I’m here to listen.”

  Emma needed a friend. She needed a shoulder to cry on, and Molly was more than happy to fill the void. This was yet another opportunity to push her bony butt out the door.

  To tell the truth, she was surprised when Emma called and asked her to come over for tea. A part of her didn’t want to go. Emma was so hard to look at—so mousy, so weak. But she knew Peter would thank her later for being such a good friend, and so she went.

  “I’m glad you could come,” Emma said.

  They were sitting alone. The children were with Peter.

  “All you have to do is call,” Molly replied jovially.

  Emma began to talk… ramble was more like it. The conversation was hard to follow. It bounced back and forth faster than a ping pong ball at the world table tennis championships.

  Molly tried to stay with it, but she found herself waiting for Emma to stop talking long enough so she could utter another platitude.

  Oh, you poor thing… you’re so strong in this… you deserve better…. Yada-yada-yada.

  “I feel guilty,” Emma said.

  “You have nothing to feel guilty about. I know you love Peter, but he has crossed way over the line with this affair,” Molly said.

  She thought: Now why don’t you mosey along so Peter and I can get back to our love affair.

  “I know he has,” Emma said. “But I’m carrying my own guilt.” She cast her eyes downward.

  “What kind of guilt?” Molly asked, intrigued.

  “The job that I interviewed for. I never told him it was in Palo Alto. I led him to believe it was here in Los Angeles.”

  “Small potatoes, compared to what he did,” Molly said. She took her hand again. “Whatever happened with that job, by the way?” She prepared a big, supportive smile for when Emma answered in the affirmative.

  “I got it,” Emma said.

  Molly smiled on cue. “Well, there you go. Congratulations. You deserve it.”

  Just then, the tea kettle began to whistle.

  Emma got up and removed the kettle from the stove. She came back to the table, and poured steaming water into two mugs.

  “I have a great tea assortment. Shay and I picked it out.” She indicated the wooden box on the table. It was a lovely, decorative box with large butterflies carved into the top.

  At the mention of Shay, Emma started getting teary again.

  “Listen to me,” Molly said, putting on her most supportive expression. “Forget about Shay, and forget about Peter. You go on up to Palo Alto and ace that job. I’m pretty sure before long you’ll be running the place.”

  “That’s just it. I didn’t take the job,” Emma said as she returned the kettle to the stove.

  “Excuse me? Come again?”

  “I felt too guilty. Two wrongs don’t make a right. Besides, I wanted to start with a clean slate, so I told them I had to pass. There’ll be more opportunities. I’m sure the perfect job is waiting for me right here in LA. And this way I won’t have to break up our family.” She smiled.

  Molly’s supportive expression vanished.

  I cannot believe the stupid bitch is smiling at me.

  *

  Molly was trying her best not to see red, but the level of Emma’s stupidity and weakness was exasperating her. She was at her wit’s end.

  Do you know how long and hard I worked to find you that job?

  Obviously, Emma didn’t. The stupid little mouse thought she could get a job all on her own. As if! Molly struggled to regain her composure.

  Emma turned back from the stove. “Molly, are you all right?” she called, noticing the flush in Molly’s cheeks.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Just a little surprised is all,” she said, getting a handle on herself.

  “I know the feeling. I surprised myself when I turned the job down. I studied hard for that job,” Emma said, returning to the table. “But it was the right thing to do.”

  Molly was determined not to let the setback throw her. She was a fighter. Her Daddy had always told her success was the reward of those who persevered. Peter would be hers. She needed to persevere a little longer.

  Molly was also quite resourceful. In an Altoids tin buried at the bottom of her purse was chloroquine powder. Never leave home without it.

  The beauty of this particular poison is that it would be completely absorbed into Emma’s system. Totally unde
tectable. Just as it had been undetectable in Emory Holmes’ system.

  Molly realized that at thirty-six, Emma was too young a woman to have a heart attack. But it happens. Heck, it was to happening to Emma today, wasn’t it?

  “Do you have any of those delicious cookies you buy for me? They’d be wonderful with a cup of tea.” Molly had regained her composure, and was smiling once again.

  “No, I don’t. But I have a nice pound cake from the same bakery.”

  “Ooh, yummy. I haven’t had a good piece of pound cake in a very long time.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat. That bakery has some of the best deserts,” Emma said as she detoured to the pantry.

  “I know they do,” Molly called.

  She dug into her purse for the Altoids tin. As soon as Emma was out of sight, she pulled the tin from her purse and dumped the entire contents into the mug of steaming water. It was enough to kill a horse. Emma would be dead in a matter of minutes.

  The water began to fizz.

  Molly felt a twinge of anxiety. She hadn’t expected that. The water was turning cloudy. Ohmygod!

  “I’m thinking of checking out a head hunter, or a job placement service,” Emma called from the pantry. “I need to find one who represents programmers.”

  “That is an excellent idea,” Molly called back.

  With Emory, she’d dumped the chloroquine powder into his Coca Cola. It was already dark colored and fizzy, so she had no idea this would happen.

  Calm yourself, girl. You got this.

  She grabbed a teabag from the wooden box, placed it in the mug, and stirred.

  Emma exited the pantry carrying a pink pastry box. She moved to the butcher block, and grabbed a knife.

  Meanwhile, the fizzing in the mug was dying down. The cloudy water was turned dark by the tea. Molly plucked another teabag from the box and placed it in the mug in front of her.

  Incident averted. I’m persevering, she thought.

  “I hope you don’t mind, I chose for you,” she called to Emma.

  Emma turned, and looked at the mug of tea. She frowned for a moment.