by Taryn Plendl
I never know what kind of sleep I will have from night to night, but the occasional dreams of Laney that are so real, so incredibly vivid of her healthy, that I wake up choking with sobs, begging to fall back to sleep, for just one more moment with her, those are the dreams that give me the strength to sleep. The nights of nightmares unfortunately are much more common. They remind me of an earthquake—they shake me up pretty bad, and just when I think they are over, I find that the aftershocks hurt so much worse.
***
I had a busy day ahead. There were several projects I needed to deliver to the office, and some things to pick up in town, as well as groceries. I left early, not wanting to be away for too long. I find it so exhausting to hold it together. When I’m home, at least I know that if I break, I can let go. There is nothing that makes others as uncomfortable as a grown man crying. Men don’t know how to react to that, so they return to basic comforts. If I had consumed or eaten everything my male family members had offered me when I cried, I would be a 400 pound alcoholic. I don’t live to make people uncomfortable, really I don’t, I just can’t care. I can’t give anything more to anyone else right now when I’m barely keeping myself from completely falling apart.
I swing by the office, shake hands and make small talk. My boss is impressed with my work, and hands me several other projects to complete. “The mountain air must agree with you.” He says smiling at me. I feel like I’ve been punched it the stomach. I want to scream that nothing agrees with me anymore, that I am dying myself, but I pull it together long enough to get out of the building to my car. I wish I could stop these tears, stop the pain in my heart, but I can only stop all of that by keeping my mind from thinking of her, and that I couldn't do. If I didn’t know any better, I would think grief was a sign of weakness—I prefer to think it is the price of love.
***
I swing by the hardware store to pick up a few things I need for the house. The porch has some areas in need of desperate repair, from the years it stood empty, taking the brunt of the weather. I love the small old-fashioned hardware stores. There is something about walking down the aisles, and finding things that the big chain stores won’t sell. After finding what I came in for, I head to the checkout counter to pay, and as I hand the cashier my credit card, he asks for ID. I’m getting used to this, and finding that until I am perceived as one of the “locals” I will have to go through this song and dance.
“Hmph, you must be in the house next to Ally?” The older gentleman was peering at me over his glasses. “I’m really not sure, to be honest, I have not met my neighbor.” I say, knowing that sounds bad, but I can’t think of a viable excuse without going into my life story, and after one breakdown so far today, I decide against an explanation, so instead I just smile. “Well, I would have been surprised if you had actually. Ally keeps to herself. I only mentioned it because I have a delivery for her, and was hoping you might be willing to save me a trip out there.” He was eyeing me, and I felt obligated to agree. “Of course.” After proper introductions, Mr. Reddy handed me a paper sack full of glass cutting tools and grout, and with a clap on the back and an appreciative “Thank you,” I am on my way.
My last stop is for groceries, and I instantly recognize the young man who delivers groceries to my neighbor. His name tag reads Ronnie, and he is hopelessly flirting with a couple of teenage girls instead of stocking the shelves. I load my cart up with easy and quick meals and finally head for home.
It is only just after 11:30 a.m., but I feel like I have been gone all day. There is no sign of life at my neighbor’s house, and I am secretly hoping hoping she is gone. I carry her supplies up to the door and knock softly and wait. After a minute, I scribble a note on the bag and leave it on the porch. I don’t have the energy to meet anyone else today, and knowing that she seems to value her privacy as much as I do, I decide I don’t want to cross that line where we have to acknowledge each other and act friendly. I head across the drive, unload my things and sit on the porch staring at nothing.
Chapter 7
~Ally
I haven’t slept. It is not unusual for me to have trouble sleeping after an episode like last night. I don’t know what triggered it specifically, but I venture a guess it was the surprise of another person so close to me, out here in what has become a safe place.
My muscles are sore. They always are from the shaking. I know I need to run tonight, to get back out there and show myself that I am still in control. I will just need to go later this time, when my new neighbor is asleep.
I haven’t always been timid and scared. I was a very precocious child from the beginning, reading at an early age, and so outgoing that my mom said it was sometimes un-nerving. I carried my confidence both inside and outside throughout my adolescence and into my teens. I had friends from every circle. I had boyfriends who claimed they loved me, and some who I may have even loved—as much as you can when you are young. With all of that said, most importantly, I was kind. I would have done almost anything for those who I love. My friends were like family to me, and my family was like……well, they were like my oxygen. It sucks when someone you know turns into someone you knew, especially when it is yourself.
***
After my parents died, there wasn’t a day that went by that I hadn’t wished I was dead too. My aunts and cousins tried to bring me back, and they were so sure it would just take time. My friends had done everything they knew how to do. They gave and gave, and finally they all stopped coming. My best friend told me with tears running down her face that “it was exhausting being the one who always has to call, text or write first, friendship was supposed to be a two-way street!” She wanted to know how long you keep trying to be in someone’s life when they don't really seem to want you there. When I couldn’t find the words to say, she turned her back on me and walked away. I can’t blame her. Someone once told me "You just keep trying until you have nothing left." I am beginning to think that I'm almost there.
I hear the knocking on my door. It is not a day when Ronnie comes, so I inch carefully to the window in the kitchen and peek out, careful not to make sudden movements or noises. It is the blonde man from last night. Although my heart is beating quickly, I am not in that perpetual fall into that dark place like last night, so I just watch him quietly.
He is rather tall, with blonde hair and dark eyes, solid build, yet not intimidating. He has a paper sack that I assume it is for me, but I won’t open the door, this I know. He shuffles around nervously watching the boards as they creek and groan under his weight. I could be mistaken, but he looks almost relieved that I didn’t answer the door. After writing something on the bag, he places it by the door and walks down the porch. It feels so bizarre watching someone. I can count the number of people I have come into contact with while living here on one hand, and now this stranger is living just feet from me. I don’t like it.
I start messing with some of the things in the kitchen and keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t come back. He walks from his car to his house several times, and then for some reason he sits down on his steps and looks off through the trees. I don’t know why, but I am drawn to the window, just to stare at him. I am not close enough to see his facial expressions, but I can see that his body is still—unusually still. It has been a long time that I have seen someone whose behavior is abnormal. Wait, is what he’s doing abnormal, or is it me? Technically I am standing at the window watching him. I’m going to take a stab at it and say it is probably me.
Chapter 8
~Ian
I have sat here for hours. The sun is starting to set, and my stomach is screaming at me. It is amazing how when you see me I may seem ok, like I have it all together, but if you see me when no one’s around I’m completely broken inside and struggling to put the pieces back together.
I stand up and stretch. My legs feel like lead, so I have to hop around a little bit to get them to loosen up. My stomach growls again, and I know I can’t wait any longer. I have
to get something to eat.
Dinner consists of roast beef sandwiches and soup, and it tastes amazing! It is only just after 8:00pm, but I am exhausted. I drag myself to the shower, throw on some pajama bottoms and bury myself in my bed, pleading with the powers that be for happy dreams.
***
I sat straight up, not exactly sure what woke me up. Looking around the room, taking a mental inventory, I rub my face and lay back down and look at the clock—1:46 a.m. I don’t have that feeling I do when I have nightmares, no cold sweats, no rapid heartbeat, no nausea, and frankly, I never forget the nightmares. Closing my eyes, I try to bring a mental image of Laney to the forefront of my mind--the healthy Laney, the one that is so hard for me to visualize anymore. I’m almost there, beginning to doze again, and then I hear it.
It takes me a minute to wrap my head around what it is. I almost mistake it for a wounded animal, but when it continues, I realize it is not an animal, it’s coming from the neighbor’s house. Before I know what I am doing, I have a t-shirt pulled over my head and I am running barefoot like a mad man to her house.
She is still screaming, as I reach her porch, and without even trying the door knob, I bust through using my shoulder on the impact. It is very disorienting because I have never seen the inside of her house, and with it being so dark, I am frantically searching and running into things. When I reach the door where the sound is coming from, I take a deep breath and plow through; fully expecting a fight with whatever is hurting her.
Nothing….I blink several times, trying to find what must be missing. The cause of the screaming, but all I see now is a crumpled form on the floor by the bed. I turn on the light switch next to me, and as the closet light comes to life, I see her, sitting there rocking and trembling—sweat rolling down her face and has obviously soaked her t-shirt, as it is plastered to her body. “Ally?” I whisper. “Ally, I’m your neighbor Ian. Are you hurt?” I slowly start to approach her, but she hasn’t even looked at me. “Ally, I’m going to call an ambulance for you.” I see the phone next to the bed and head in that direction. I get the first number dialed when I hear the faintest “No.” I turn and find that she is still looking down, but shaking her head back and forth. “Don’t, please.” She pleads, and then looks up at me.
Her eyes are so dark and lifeless. For a minute they remind me of Laney’s eyes. The eyes are the first thing to die when you give up the fight. Eyes can tell you more about a person than words, they’re like a straight tunnel into your soul. The deepest parts that you don’t want anyone to see. Most people miss it, they are too wrapped up in their own moments to realize the unspoken words in others eyes. I knew instantly when Laney gave up. Her eyes went from beautiful, grey-blue and full of hope, to dark and lifeless. It scared me then with Laney, and it scares me now, seeing that same look in Ally’s eyes.
“Okay…okay.” I say as I inch back toward the door of her bedroom. I want to leave, run away from whatever this is, run away from whatever is causing this pain and fear, but I can’t. However broken I am, at this moment, it is nothing in comparison to this girl, and I can’t in clear conscious walk away, so I slide down against the wall and wait.
Chapter 9
~Ally
Why isn’t the front porch light on? I am thinking as I search for my keys. My dad always leaves it on when I am not home. It is warm, and my cheeks are still flushed from the kiss that I received from Rick tonight. We had been on two prior dates, and I was beginning to think he wasn’t interested, but before leaving from my best friend Cara’s house tonight, he had kissed me so gently in the hallway. It was perfect, and I was still flying high.
I think that is why I must have missed so many clues as I walked through the house. Someone was crying. I walked toward the living room, toward the crying.
I am watching all of this, like I am separate from it, like it is one of those ridiculous horror movies where you are yelling at the main character to run, to turn around, but they always walk right into it. They are so stupid! I know what is going to happen. I’ve seen this more times than I can count, but I know it isn’t a movie.
The smell….What is that? I am walking around the corner. They are there, my parents. Why are they sitting there on the couch, just facing a television that isn’t on? I hear the crying, and realize it is my dad. My dad! I have never seen this man in a weak moment, ever. He is a strong businessman, he doesn’t bow down to anyone, anything! “Dad?” I whisper. In slow motion they both turn toward each other and then over their shoulders at me. Blood! It is everywhere!
***
Screaming. At first it is me in the nightmare, but it doesn’t stop. It continues, in my head, in my ears, in my mind, and now in my own house, years later. I scramble off the bed, trying to get away, away from the nightmare. Shit!! I fell asleep! It is dark. Rocking, I pull my knees up and just rock. I am soaked, feeling like I had been caught in a torrential down pour. My heart is racing so fast that I’m sure it will beat right out of my chest. There is a banging down the hall, but I can’t worry about that now. Rocking….Rocking….Rocking.
“Ally?” I hear, and it sounds like it is coming from inside a tunnel. “Ally, I’m your neighbor Ian. Are you hurt?” I can’t look, the voice is coming closer. “Ally, I’m going to call an ambulance for you.” NO! My mind screams, yet my mouth won’t form the word. I see him pick up the phone and begin to dial. “No.” I finally whisper. He backs away from me, and I don’t know where he is, but I can’t worry about that right now. I am shaking so hard that my teeth are chattering. Still rocking, I begin to sing.
Goodnight, my angel
Now it's time to dream
And dream how wonderful your life will be
Someday your child may cry
And if you sing this lullabye
Then in your heart
There will always be a part of me
Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabyes go on and on...
They never die
That's how you
And I
Will be
Over and over, with eyes closed tight, I sing, keep singing until I feel myself coming back. I can hear myself breathing now. In, out, in, out. Come back to me, Ally, I tell myself.
***
When I open my eyes, I can see a faint light shining through the blinds. Morning. As my vision clears I sit motionless absorbing the scene. I take a deep breath, but still can’t fill my lungs with the stuffiness of the room. The sheet is wrapped around my left foot, still hanging partially on the bed, where I must have struggled to get off from last night. I’m always on the floor--never on the bed when I come back. Always trying to get away, what I couldn’t do that night.
Sore, I am so sore that I can hardly move. I stand up and untangle myself from the sheet before I turn to walk to the bathroom. “What the hell?” I mumble when I see the crumpled man sleeping against my wall. Faintly I remember him coming in last night. Ian? Is that what he said? I can’t remember right now. I am not sure what to do, so I sit down on the edge of the bed and wait.
Chapter 10
~Ian
Singing. That is the last thing I remember, before I fell asleep. The same song, over and over. The voice was soft, and I imagine it would have been quite beautiful if the trembling and ragged breathing hadn’t made it sound so choppy. Regardless, her singing is calming, and it pushes me over the edge of unconsciousness.
My neck is stiff and my left leg is asleep. I open my eyes, unable to place my surroundings, until I look up and see her sitting there so composedly on the edge of her bed. “Hi.” I say so lightly that I almost don’t recognize it as my own voice. “Hi.” She says simply. Pulling myself up, I stumble back into the wall when I put weight on my left leg. The pins and needles are almost painful as life returns to my limb. I look up and smile ever so slightly, embarrassed by my discomposure. Keeping a distance from her, I introduce myself. “I’m Ian.” “Ally…my name is Ally,” she declares, not moving from the bed.
“Look, I’m sorry to burst into your house,” I say, running my hands through my hair. “I, um…I heard your screams, and quite frankly, I thought you were, well I thought you were being attacked or something.” I stammer. Ally looked straight into my eyes as she spoke, “Listen Ian, I can’t explain. I don’t mean I won’t, but I really can’t. I am messed up, maybe crazy, but surely broken. Some days are better than most, but today isn't one of those days.” She was so calm. “I am sorry to scare you, but I’m okay now.” She got up and walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
I took this as my clue to leave. On my way out I found the bag of supplies from the hardware store that I had left on the stoop the day before. I placed it on the counter in her kitchen, closed the door and walked back to my house. I felt emptier than usual.
Sometimes it is hard to see past your own pain; you allow it to completely consume you until you don’t see anyone else. I have done this for so long that I don’t know how to stop. I should be completely freaked out by what happened in Ally’s house last night, but I’m not—not toward her anyway. I’m angry. God, I am so angry at the pain! The pain that can break people down so much, tear you down so far, that you can’t imagine ever feeling right again. I walk to my door, grab the pot sitting next to it and throw it across the porch, shattering it against the post before I walk inside and close the door.