My sister kept it inside. I saw her spend hours writing into a diary. My mom spent most of her time in her room working on her laptop. I felt as if I was the only one who kept going. I went back to school and had a job so I was dealing with it. I did tell my sister I wished I were alone sometimes, away from all this. I was tired of being asked about how I felt over and over.
Right before I went to bed I spoke with my sister. She told me when you're all alone and the only voice is our own you find out the truth about yourself. I told her that was what I needed, what I wanted. Then the next afternoon I woke up to this.”
I was giving her what she wanted and strangely, the more I spoke the more I wanted to hear about her life, not just for the answers I desperately wanted, but also to know more about whom she was. There was always the possibility that we would have to live out our lives together in this world and if I was to accept that I had to understand her.
“Then for you being here is about finding the truth about yourself and your family?”
“That's what I thought. Even though I was trying to find my family and an answer to all this I couldn't stop thinking about my past and things that happened between me and my family and my friends. Then I found out my family was keeping something from me. I was ready to dedicate my time to finding out what it was and then I met you.”
And that was what unraveled everything, the addition of an outsider to a tale I believed was all about me. If she was here for a purpose then it was up to me to find out what it was. To help or hinder, it was fifty-fifty. Perhaps that was why I was developing feelings for her. Maybe it was real or maybe it was a trap I was slowly walking into.
“If this was about you then there would be no reason for me to be here. So you want to find out how do I fit into your story?”
I wished I could hear her thoughts, the process of how she breaks down information and dissects it. Clearly she had a keen mind and I wanted to know if she was truly like me.
“If that is your question I don't have a good answer for you. I'm not saying there is no reason for me to be here. It's just I cannot pinpoint what it could be. I grew up having pretty much whatever I wanted. You would think that is the start to a happy life, but it isn't. People treat you differently when your family has money and power. Either they hate you for what you have or they fear you for who you are. I had plenty of people around me, but none of them loved me, none of them was my friends. Maybe that's why this world isn't as frightening to me. What's the difference between being by one’s self or alone amidst a crowd?”
She did understand. To be alone amidst a crowd, not only was it how I felt sometimes it was also similar to what Dr. Leafs talked about when describing my supposed condition. Ana had told me so much with only a few words. She was wealthy but did not revel in her money like many in my building. Being forced to perform up to your father’s standards I also could relate to. While my grades in school had much to do with my own strive for perfection and excellence it was also instilled heavily by my father. I took it as a challenge and mastered it; she accepted it until she was able to reject it.
“I don’t want to talk as if my life was all horrible. My father tried his best I suppose, but he was too busy running his company to worry about me.”
“Who is… was… your father?”
She paused and looked at me as if the answer would change everything between us. I could not help but wonder if her response would be one of the answers I sought.
“His name is Nathaniel Davalos.”
“Nathaniel Davalos, of Media One…?” I asked in amazement.
At that moment everything began to come together. I knew the man, the company and now I knew who Ana was. With this revelation it was possible she was part of my sub-consciousness and not a real person, but it was also possible that she was a kindred spirit. I stared into her eyes recalling everything. She clearly did not know me, which was understandable since she never actually laid her eyes on me.
“I know you, well, not personally. My father worked for yours in one of Media One’s financial departments. I remember the day he told us that he was going to be promoted to vice president. There was going to be a party at your father’s home.”
“Yes, my father held those business parties every year since I could remember. That was when he would name all his new top men and present them to the rest of his employees. He told me once it was to show the others that anyone could make it to the top if they put in the work and remain loyal. I hated those parties, the fake smiles and false complements. You could not have seen me there; I never attended those parties.”
Her observations were dead on with mine. I had gone to parties and functions with my father before. Maybe it was there that I found my hatred for the pompous asinine people who flaunted their money and power. Watching my father having to kiss their asses and smile at their crude jokes sickened me. I made a promise that I would never be like him in that regard and I would never act like them.
“It wasn’t specifically at the party that I met you.”
“No….then where…?” She asked
By the time my father achieved his vice president position I already had my fill of those gatherings. Prior I was able to find an excuse to avoid attending them, but for his big promotion I had no choice, it was a family event.
“When we arrived my father gave my sister and I a speech about how it was important to make a good impression and how his promotion would change everything for the family. It was more for my sister than I since I had attended other functions. When we arrived I just sat in a corner looking at people. My sister fell asleep so I decided to go exploring. Your house was humongous. I ended up getting lost. I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn't get caught. All I wanted was to get back to where I was sitting when I heard crying.”
“You…you heard me crying?”
She was embarrassed and I sympathized with her. The sound of her sorrow echoed throughout the massive hallways. It drew me to her and I could not explain why. Perhaps I wanted to know why someone with so much could feel so much pain. Maybe I already knew the answer. We had moved into the new apartment just a few months before. Meeting the snobs and elitists in the building boiled my blood. It was entirely possible I wanted to watch her cry and revel in it.
“At first I couldn't tell where it was coming from. I thought maybe it was someone else who was lost or bored so I followed the sound. I walked down a hallway and a light coming from the room at the end of it. The door was open and I saw you lying on your bed crying. You looked so sad. I felt sorry for you. All I could think about was what could make someone living in a house like this so sad. It made me feel bad. What were you crying about?”
When I found her it was not joy I felt seeing her in that state. The sadness was real and went deep. Normally I did not feel the pain of others. Either I could tell the emotions of others were false or they were unstable. With Ana I could feel it as if it was my own and the truth was it scared me. Up until then I never found out why that was, but it affected me, there was no denying that.
“It was the anniversary of something terrible that happened. I hated that dad picked that day to hold his stupid party. I guess he wanted to hide his sadness in good times.”
“I could understand that.” I replied.
She turned away and looked out into the night toward Lake Michigan. I could relate to her even more now. While I looked out into the dark void of the lake at night to clear my thoughts the goal was the same, the relieve pressure. Whatever it was that happened to her wounded her deeply. It caused me to consider my own anniversary, the day my father was hit by the drunk driver. Was it possible Dr. Leafs was right? Was it possible that my turning toward the darkness to relieve the pressure led me to this place?
“I was scared at first, Ana. I can’t really say why. I wanted to walk up to you and tell you everything would be okay. I guess I didn't because I wouldn't have believed my own words.”
“It was better you didn't. Back then I
would have just screamed at you for spying on me and slammed the door in your face. I wasn't very approachable back then.”
What I could not understand was why I felt this way twice for her. When I first saw her I truly wanted to console her and that was completely unlike me. Even with Christine I never felt that way during her most trying times. Something about her, first when I saw her in her room and at that moment looking into her eyes, she could change me, in an instant.
“I’m not like that anymore.” Ana said.
She stretched her hand across the table and laid it on top of mine. Her warmth traveled through my body. I looked down at her hand thinking about my feelings and Christine’s face appeared in my mind. As I glanced back at Ana’s face, I understood that she could see my thoughts and feel my body heat rise. To think about Christine at a moment like this was expected. If this was real then Christine was no more, if this is all a dream then there has been no transgression.
“Whoever she was she's gone, Timothy. It's just us now and if you want together we can find the answers about your family. I just don't want to be alone tonight.”
Ana stood from the table and extended her hand to me. I hesitated but soon took her hand in mine as she guided me out of the restaurant and down the hallway toward the elevator. Everything I thought I was after I had yet to achieve. Instead I found someone, a person I was coming to care for rather quickly. And she could be the answer to what I did not realize I was seeking.
The elevator came to a stop and opened to the floor of the presidential suite. Ana smiled still holding my hand as she walked up to the door, opened it and stepped inside. More lavish decorations, but it did not bother me. My mind was on Ana and the step I was about the take. Ana led me into the bedroom; the bed was covered in fresh roses, diamonds and thousands in cash. She released my hands and fell backwards onto the bed.
“When did you do all of this?” I asked with curiosity. Ana, I don’t think…”
She sat up and grabbed my hand pulling me to the foot of the bed. Ana bent me down to her and kissed me on the lips. The taste of them cleared my thoughts even if just for a moment. Part of me wanted to give in and enjoy what I had found, but the underlying issue was that if this was part of the delusion then embracing it could mean I would never escape. There was also the possibility that I was just scared to admit that I wanted her and that I would give up everything else if I could.
“Don’t think…just…” Ana whispered.
The physical or the mental, I had made my choice. My body needed release and my mind needed silence. She guided my hand to her breast and for the first time in a long time I was excited. A passion I believed had died was resurrected and took control of my actions. There were no thoughts of my family or friends. Christine was a memory of a life that I lived long ago. Ana gave me her body and in return, I was able to give her my mind.
Purgatory
Why do some people die in their sleep? Is it that the body has failed and the mind has taken over? Dealing with months on end of horrible nightmares the idea of having one’s body surrender to the mind is a terrifying thought. However, when the nightmares stopped they were briefly replaced by dreams of pure pleasure. Could it be that when one is near death the mind will soothe the soul preparing it for the afterlife with heavenly dreams? If it were possible I believe many would surrender themselves to a dream if nothing else than to avoid the nightmare which is their waking world. Would they die in their sleep if they decided to stay?
Laying in the dark staring at the hotel’s balcony reminded me of home. Feeling the warmth of Ana’s naked body reminded me of Christine. These thoughts were not what unsettled me. Christine use to tell me that at times I could show an emotional side that was stronger than she had ever seen before. She loved it and hated it at the same time. She said that in the flash of an instant I would pull her over to me wrap my arms around her and profess my love. Then soon afterward it would fade and my distant off-putting stare, as she put it, would return.
It was as if something deep inside let go for a moment then realized it had made a terrible mistake and retook control, she would say. I could not deny it, that moment lying in that bed next to a woman that knew nothing about me, that part of me retook control. My problem was not with her, it was with me and the fact that I was ready to accept this world and give up my search for answer. I was ready to abandon reason and the unanswered questions before me for an emotion that I did not understand.
Ana noticed me staring off into the dark. She ran her hand down my back; the lack of response on my part was immediately noticed.
“Timothy… are you… do you regret what happened?”
I sat up with my back to her. It should have been easy to tell her everything, there was no one else. There had to be more to this, more than just a woman who shares a brief moment in my history. I forced myself around and looked at her; the look of concern on her face was genuine. I had to tell her something, something real and yet…
“No. Ana. It's not that. Well, maybe it is, but not the way you think. At dinner I did shy away from you when you touched me because of Christine. I loved her and at first it felt as if I was cheating on her. I told myself I would embrace logic and not get caught up in my feelings, but that isn't possible is it? I put my feelings for Christine away to embrace my feelings for you.”
“But she's gone, Timothy. And she isn't coming back.”
I could not tell if at that moment she was trying to convince herself or me. There was much more here. More than she had told me, more than even she knew. Looking into her eyes I knew I had to get back to my search and the first place to look was within her.
“That's just it. To be with you I have to accept that all this is real, that there is no ending where I am reunited with everyone I love. As much as I care for you it is still devastating to think about that. It seems like it's easy for you to do that. Maybe that's because you truly didn't like your life. Maybe you never felt loved there. If that is so then I'm sorry, but I did like my life and I had those who loved me and as much as I hate it I can feel that inside me and it hurts to know I will never see them again.”
My words were working even though many of them were lies. The key was her love, for life, for family and for someone special. A look of sadness came over Ana’s face. She turned over on her back and looked up to the ceiling. I knew that look well. She was deciding if she would tell me everything.
“It's not easy for me, Tim, believe me. I cried for hours once I realized this wasn't a dream and that everyone I knew was gone. My life wasn't a happy one. It is even worse than I've told you. That doesn't mean that there weren’t people I loved. After I cried I felt better, I don't know if I was crying because of the life I lost or the life I had. What I do know is it felt like I could say goodbye to it and move on. That doesn't mean the feelings don't remain. It's just that one needs to go on, to deal with it, to adapt.”
She opened the door for me and in an instant just as Christine talked about, my emotions returned, but it was not love. An excitement of achievement, all I needed to do was continue pushing forward. Give her what she would need to tell me the truth.
“That's what I've been trying to do, Ana, but there's more than what I knew, there's also what I didn't know. No matter what we do here, no matter how much I try I can't stop thinking about them. Maybe I am losing my mind, but I just won't be able to rest until…”
“…until you have your answers.” Ana said.
It was an understanding. There was something between Ana and I, but nothing would proceed until there was clarity. She knew that I could not rest until those questions were answered and if she ever hoped to find happiness with me then she would need to tell me everything.
“Yes… Ana… I need to… I need answers.”
She sat up next to me and stared forward toward the balcony into the darkness. I just sat there looking at her, my mind cleared, I was ready to listen.
“I'm sorry, Tim. You told me about your famil
y, what you are going through. I haven't told you the truth about everything. You wanted to know why I am here... I lied to you about waking up alone after partying. The truth is I was at my father's house. I moved out of there a few years back, but… the day you saw me crying, it was because of my mother.
She was raped; I was the product of that rape. Shortly after I was born my mother killed herself. My father had the power to keep it out of the papers so no one knew except him. From the outside you would think he was a normal father. Well, as normal as someone with his wealth and power could be. I was always told by countless nannies that my father loved me very much and that he was busy. That's why he didn't have time for me.”
Tears began streaming down her face. I was hearing what I wanted, what I needed to know and with every word it was changing me once again. Her, sadness, her pain, I could feel every bit of it.
“I didn't believe their words. Even a child can tell how a parent feels when they look in their eyes. I never remember him holding me or telling me he loved me. Maybe I was stupid to expect that. How could I expect him to look at me, to love me? I did not bring joy into his life, I brought sorrow. I found out all this right before high school. Before then I didn't understand why my father was away so much so I acted out. Finally he confronted me and I let him have it. I told him he sucked as a father and that I hated him. He told me what happened to my mother and that he would have had me aborted, but my mother forbade it, after hearing that I just lost it. I tried to kill myself just as my mother did, but one of the maids found me. I spent the next year in Lake View.”
“Lake View…?”
And just like that another connection, this one to a place that may or may not have been part of my history. Suddenly the possibility that both of us were trapped in a shared hallucination became probable. Just as you can bring an injury or sickness of the body into your dreams, you can also bring in sickness of the mind. The scar on my forehead, the pain in my stomach, these are shared, taken from the waking world. If this was true then I could learn what has trapped her here, free her, and perhaps free myself as well.
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