January Dreams

by Carrigan Richards

  I have to leave, but I don’t want to leave him alone in this place. I reluctantly walk back toward the door and close it behind me. I don’t remember getting on the elevator or walking past the front desk, but I step outside into the cold night and inhale a shaky breath. The rain has slacked. I can’t believe it. Casper’s in the hospital, beaten to a bloody pulp.

  “I never pegged you as a stalker.” I stop mid-stride clutching onto the strap of my bag that crosses my chest.

  “I never pegged you as a liar, but here we are.” I twist around and see Vincent sitting on a bench under an awning, arms stretched along the length of it. His dark blue eye focuses on me though he isn’t angry, but sad.

  “Liar?” He gets up and moves toward me. I stand my ground but tense. “My dad sent me a text telling me that Mom was admitted again. She isn’t awake though.” He frowns and his eye waters.

  I feel like the lowest of low. I feel my shoulders sag. I’m a terrible person. “I’m so sorry, Vincent. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because. I already don’t like being known as the kid with the cancer mom. I don’t want people to pity me. I blame myself. I worried her so much with all my reckless shit that she got sick. I’m sorry I don’t tell you every little thing. It’s still hard for me open up to people.”

  “But it’s me, Vincent.”

  “I know.”

  Here I am getting upset with him over something so trivial and his mom’s in the hospital, dying of cancer. Maybe he’s so angry and Casper came at the wrong time. “Were you taking out your anger on Casper?” My voice is barely above a whisper.

  He tilts his back and gives a hard laugh. “If I took out all my anger on him, he’d be dead,” he says. The look in his good eye tells me he means it.

  I shudder. “You almost did.”

  “What? A couple of bruises and a black eye hardly seems like death. Why are you so worried about him now?”

  “He’s in the ICU.” I point back to the hospital. “I know you’re under a lot of stress, but Vincent, that’s no reason to beat someone up like that. Why did you do it?”

  Vincent narrows his eyes and his face contorts with confusion. “ICU? For what?”

  “He’s got bruises and bandages all over his face. His arm is in a cast. He’s wearing a neck brace. You didn’t have to put him in the hospital.”

  He holds up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t do that. I got a couple of punches on him before the coach pulled us apart. We went to the principal’s office and they suspended us both. I went home after that.”

  Maybe it’s best that I don’t have contact with either one of them. My life was fine until these stupid dreams and visions and fights. I’ve seen more violence in the last month than ever before. I have school to focus on. I have to get a scholarship and get out of this place.

  “But you’re so quick to accuse me and defend him.” He shakes his head in disappointment.

  Remorse overcomes me. I don’t know why I’m so quick to blame Vincent. He’s had such a hard life and I’m not making it easy on him. I love him with everything I have, but I don’t treat him well. Worrying over Casper doesn’t help him. “What do you think happened to him?” I whisper as a small tear rolls down my cheek. I’m crying at what Vincent said, not Casper. Or maybe I’m crying for both.

  “I don’t know.” He lets out a defeated sigh. “We can go find out if you want.”

  I shake my head and my heart drops. “No. We aren’t friends anymore. He hurt me. Vincent, I’m so sorry for being the worst girlfriend ever. I’m such a terrible person.”

  He takes my hand and brushes it against his lips. “You are anything but. You gotta learn to trust me though. And you gotta stop worrying about him.”

  I swallow the lump of guilt in my throat and wrap my arms around him. His arms wind around me and instead of feeling the cold mist of the rain soaking us, I feel his warmth. “You deserve better.”

  “No, I don’t,” he says with conviction. “I love you. Probably more than I should, but I do. You keep me grounded and out of trouble.” He clears his throat. “With the exception of today.” He pulls back to peer into my eyes and cradles my face in his hands. “I promise I will never hurt you or fight anyone.” Vincent kisses me and it brings another vision. We are standing in the rain, somewhere. I’m crying and he’s comforting me. He whispers something, I can’t hear but I read his lips. Don’t forget me.

  When we pull apart, I whisper, “I won’t forget you.”

  He tightens his arms around me. “You should get home. I don’t want you getting sick.”

  “Are you staying here tonight?”

  He scratches his head and avoids my gaze. “Yeah. I’m gonna sleep here.”

  “Tell your mom I said hi.”

  He gives a pained smile. “I will.”

  I stand on my toes and kiss him. “I love you.”

  He walks me to my car and on my way home, I feel sad. I can’t imagine being in his shoes, but I want to be there for him. I want to comfort him and take his pain away. But I know I can’t.

  And then there is Casper. What happened to him? Maybe someone knows something, and I’ll find out tomorrow. I can’t help wanting to be there for him as well.

  Once home, I take a hot shower and it warms my body from all the cold rain. I put in my earbuds and start playing music. A soft piano song begins, and I slide under the blankets. I close my eyes and let the song lure me to sleep.

  “I could listen to you play forever.” Casper smiles and walks toward me. My fingers unconsciously and blithely move from key to key on the upright piano as I perform a beautiful number. I stop playing once he sits next to me on the bench. Candles dimly light the little cottage and his face glows in the beautiful orange light.

  I smile.

  He leans into me and presses his soft lips against mine. His hands tangle with my long black hair as I fold into him. Warmth rushes within me. He tugs on my lower lip and I moan as I reach inside his shirt. I run my hands across his smooth chest.

  The door bursts open, breaking our passionate kiss. I look toward the door at three figures, but I can’t see their faces. Covered by hoods, but somewhere deep down I know it is them. We stand. How did they find us?

  “Take her,” the man in the middle demands. They come at me without hesitation, but Casper shields me with his body.

  “You will never take her,” he says.

  “We’ve been down this road before, Casper. She doesn’t belong to you. Yet, each time I see you with her.”

  “I love her.”

  The man lets out a hard laugh. “What does your kind even know about it? You vile creature. You have no feelings, no soul, no heart.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, peeking from behind Casper. I clutch onto his hand, refusing to let go. “He has more of a heart than you will ever have. Why can’t you leave us alone? I love him.”

  The man lets out a laugh. “You’ve been manipulated, my dear. But we shall fix that.”

  “She doesn’t want you.”

  “I will not discuss this any further. Take her,” the man says and turns for the door.

  “No,” Casper yells. He pushes the guards away, protecting me, and I grasp onto Casper with everything I have.

  The man turns back toward us and fires the gun. Casper cries out and collapses. The guards seize my arms and drag me away from him.

  “Casper! Please, Casper!” I kick and scream and wrestle with them. My eyes lock on Casper’s brown eyes and they slowly close as the men carry me away.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  With a gasp, I bolt upright to see the morning sun has barely risen. Grabbing my phone from my table, I scroll down to Casper’s name, but stop. He’s in the hospital, I remember. What did the dream mean? Are my dreams connected to real life or vice versa? Is Casper okay? Is he dead? If I call the hospital, will they tell me his status?

  I shake my head. Why should I care about Casper? I shouldn’t, but I do. Maybe I’ll sneak i
n the ICU later and see him to see if he’s okay.

  I turn off my alarm before it sounds. I have an annoying dull ache in the back of my throat that is scratchy. Great, now I’m on the verge of getting a cold.

  I jump when my phone beeps. It’s a text message from Vincent.

  School can wait. Want to spend the day with me?

  A smile stretches across my face. I reply yes. I know it’s bad, but I really don’t want to go to school. Vincent says he changed the number on my file so that the school will call my cell phone, instead of my mom’s. I’m glad he thought of that.

  I dress in jeans and tuck them into my black boots and put on a maroon sweater. I grab my backpack, to let my parents think I’m going to school.

  Driving to Vincent’s, I swear I won’t let things get out of hand. Of course, I said the same thing the night before. I ring the doorbell and he answers with a smile.

  “You’re just in time,” he says.

  “For?”

  “I’m making breakfast.”

  “Wow. Thanks.”

  I follow him into the kitchen and halt in the doorway. A man in a grey suit is sitting at the table in the kitchen, sipping coffee and reading a newspaper. He looks up and flashes a smile. He has the same blue eyes as Vincent. His hair is dark like Vincent’s, but with grey mixed in. Vincent opens the refrigerator and pulls out some eggs.

  “Megan, this is my dad. Dad, this is Megan.”

  “Stan.” He reaches out his hand and I shake it. “So, you’re the reason for my son’s constant beaming.”

  I smile and feel my cheeks redden.

  “He told me about the fight yesterday. Although, I’m not exactly pleased with his suspension, I’m proud of him. I probably would’ve done the same thing for a girl I loved.”

  I shift uncomfortably. What an odd thing to be proud of.

  “Dad.” Vincent groans.

  “Just stating the facts. Do you have time to eat? School starts soon.” He looks at me expectantly.

  “I’m making her breakfast because she’s getting my homework and such. She’s got time.”

  “All right. Well I have to go.” He stands and finishes his coffee. “I’ll meet you at the hospital later,” he tells Vincent in a low voice. “Megan, it was a pleasure meeting you. Maybe next time we’ll actually get to talk longer.”

  “It was nice meeting you, too.”

  Stan leaves and as soon as Vincent hears him back out of the driveway, he grabs me and pulls me into a hug. “That was embarrassing.” He kisses my cheek and walks to the fridge.

  “I didn’t know your dad was going to be here.”

  “He wanted to meet you.”

  “He seems nice.”

  “He is. Very understanding. Scrambled?” he asks, holding up eggs.

  “Yeah. How long is your suspension?” I lean against the counter and watch him stir the gooey mass of eggs.

  “A week.”

  “So, you get to sleep in for an entire week? Nice.”

  “Doesn’t exactly help my permanent record.”

  Well, you should’ve thought about that before you fought, I want to say, but I don’t. He finishes scrambling the eggs and divides them on two plates that already have sausage and biscuits.

  “Thanks for breakfast.”

  He beams, showing a dimple. “Anytime.”

  We sit down at the table and eat while chatting about random things. School, how he’s been dealing with his mom in the hospital, which isn’t too well. He fears for his mom but knows she can overcome it. I hold his hand without saying a word. I know nothing I say can help.

  “Is it not good?” he asks, pointing to my half-eaten plate of food.

  “I’m not hungry.” And it hurts to swallow. The pain in my throat worsens. My head props against my hand while I lean on the table.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m tired. Not exactly a morning person.”

  With a sly smile, he lowers his head to my level. “There’s a bed upstairs you can sleep in.”

  I sit up. “I’m okay.” I am not going up there. I know what will happen.

  “I’m kidding.” He gently touches my cheek, then moves his hand to my neck and forehead. “You’re burning up.”

  I moan.

  “Well, I was going to take you to the art museum, but I don’t think you need to be going out.”

  “Art museum?”

  “Sure. My mom has a photograph there.”

  “Wow. What is it?”

  He scoots back his chair and leaves the room. A few seconds later, he returns with a thick black frame. The picture inside is a black and white photo of Vincent. His body is shadowed as he walks into a tunnel, but his face is turned toward the camera. His eyes look sorrowful, but he looks sexy.

  “I really don’t show people that,” he says, clearing the table.

  “Why? It’s beautiful.” I can’t stop looking at it. I’m a fan of black and white photography, and the way she captured him makes me ache.

  His shadow covers the picture frame, blocking the overhead light. “Hmm, you think I’m beautiful?”

  “Just the picture.” I tease.

  “Oh, I see.” He takes the picture frame from my hands and places it on the table. He proceeds to tickle me. I fall back in the chair, but he catches me. Chills run over my body. I feel tired and sluggish. I rest my head against his stomach.

  “Come on.” He pulls me to my feet and takes me to a chocolate suede couch. He lowers me down onto it and grabs a handmade afghan, covering me with it. “You should probably go home, really. But I don’t want you to.”

  “I don’t want my parents knowing I skipped.”

  “They won’t. I worked it out. Besides, your parents are too strict anyway. Do you want me to get you anything?”

  I shake my head.

  Vincent puts on a movie and crosses back to the couch. He sits in the corner of the L-shaped couch and pulls me to him. “Have you been writing more in the story?”

  “Not a lot.”

  “Can I show you something?”

  “Sure.”

  He reaches over and grabs a notebook, opening it. There are pages and pages of text.

  “Wow.”

  “I’ve been writing, too. Your story is so inspiring, especially right now, and I just find it fun to write. Especially since I’ve nothing better to do in the hospital. I know it’s all fantasy, but it’s something to dream about. Two people who are stuck in a world they can’t escape, but they do what’s necessary to be together. I named the immortal world Arvada.”

  I start reading, and I’m amazed with the intricate details of this world that he’s written. Part of me is a bit jealous at the beautiful descriptions. I wish I could have come up with this. He places a pillow in his lap while I rest my head on it. His hand rakes through my hair softly, repetitively and I close my eyes.

  I find myself inside a dark and cold room. The bed is lumpy and very uncomfortable. I hear the door unlock and a glowing candle enters the room with a hooded figure.

  “You’re safe, now,” the voice whispers.

  “W-who are you?” My teeth chatter.

  The figure removes the hood revealing his face. I gasp and bring my hands to my mouth. Haggard and drawn, he looks much older than I remember. “Vincent?”

  He rushes to me, placing the candleholder on the table next to my bed. “You’re here. You’re here, Megan.” He takes my hands and kisses them. “I’ve missed you terribly.” He hugs me tightly and holds my head between his warm hands. His dark blue eyes are red from tears and he presses his forehead to mine. “I thought I lost you forever.”

  “Vincent,” I say as tears well in my eyes. After four months, he has returned from his mission. “You’re back.” I hug him and plant kisses all over his face. My heart swells from the sight of him. I’ve missed him.

  He draws back with a stunned look on his face and I see the hurt in his eyes.

  “What is it? Why am I in the cellar? When did you ret
urn? Why did you think you lost me?”

  Vincent’s eyebrows furrow. “You don’t remember?”

  “Remember what?” I ask, but something feels wrong. I remember him telling me he had to leave. He was to be gone four months, but here he stands. I can’t recall anything of the past four months. It makes me uncomfortable that my mind is nestled in a thick fog. What happened to me?

  “Megan, please tell me you haven’t forgotten. Please.”

  I chew on the inside of my mouth, but I can’t give an answer to the pleading man. “I’m sorry,” I whisper and bow my head.

  “No, don’t be,” he says with clenched teeth. He lifts my chin with this finger. “Can I try something that might make you remember?”

  “Yes.” I know he will show me a memory of us. It’s his gift.

  His fingers gently caress my cheek down to my chin and his lips are on mine, hungrily attempting to awaken my memory. I can never forget the way his mouth moves with mine and how he pulls me so close against his body with such ardor.

  I see a vision of us in the garden. He asks for my hand in marriage and I say yes, of course. He lifts me, holding me close, and gently places me on the ground. He leans down and whispers, “Don’t forget me.” I tell him that I could never forget him.

  Vincent pulls away, searching for an answer in my eyes, but it isn’t there. I have no recollection of this. He sighs and drops his hands from my face. “I’ve lost you,” he says painfully.

  “You haven’t lost me.” I place my hand on his. “It might take time. What happened for us to be apart?”

  “What do you remember? Anything about your life here? Or is all you can remember your life with them?”

  “With who?”

  “You don’t even recall them? What did they do to you, Megan?”

  “I don’t know. Who are ‘they’?”