Terror reached down into Sierra’s chest and made it hard to breathe, let alone form words. All she could do was shake her head no.
“Good,” Wayne said. “Then come and see what I have for you. And then you can go play.”
Okay,” Sierra relented in a teary voice.
Wayne opened a small door Sierra had never noticed before and waved his hand as an invitation for her to enter. When she did, he immediately gave her the candy he’d promised.
Sierra took the candy and began to unwrap it, hoping that this was all he had for her but knowing in her heart that it wasn’t.
In the middle of the room was a table with a blanket covering it up. Wayne helped Sierra onto it. He said for this game she would have to lie down, and so, tentatively, thinking she had no other option, she did, the candy gripped firmly in her hand. In the next moment, Wayne was pulling her pants down, and Sierra realized his were already down.
“What are you doing?” she asked, recoiling. “I don’t like this game.”
“Relax,” he said. “It’s almost over.” He held her hands to her sides, and she felt something hard pushing against her private place.
Wayne kept pushing for what felt like forever to Sierra, but what may have only been a couple of seconds. She could hear Wayne mumbling under his breath, “This isn’t working.” Sierra was uncomfortable, scared, and ashamed. This wasn’t right, she knew it. She could hear Diana calling her name faintly in the background. Wayne must have heard it too, because he gave up on the pushing and began to touch himself. Sierra was very confused.
By this time, she could hear Diana on the other side of the door, loud and clear, begging for entry and the return of her playmate.
Wayne told Sierra that she was a good girl and wiped between her legs before pulling her pants up and returning her to Diana. Afterward, Sierra continued to play, even with the pain between her legs. She was confused, but glad to be back with her friend and away from Wayne.
Sitting there in her car, Sierra began to rock back and forth. It had been a long time since she had even thought about that experience, and she wasn’t relishing the reflection. She chastised herself for selling her soul for a piece of candy. She put her head between her arms, held on to the steering wheel for support, and counted in her head while she took deep breaths and willed her breathing to steady. She knew this feeling. She felt like she was going to die. It was another panic attack.
“You’re okay,” she said out loud. “You’re okay.” She made it a chant, a plea, that she repeated again and again.
After several minutes she felt normal again—the only normal she knew. The feeling passed, just as it always did. She finally turned the key in the ignition and pulled off.
Chapter 12
Dear Diary (I guess that’s what people write),
It’s been an ordinary day so far. Last night I slept and still haven’t had one of my dreams again. And I’ve been able to avoid thoughts from the past. The visit to Dr. Cayden really shook me up, and I’m not sure I’m looking forward to my appointment on Friday.
I don’t know. I think that I might have been working too hard and that might be the reason for my dreams and near nervous breakdown. I’m just too young to feel this old. Anyway, this week thus far has been successful at work. I found a house just off the lake for the older couple so I have that commission, and then of course I worked with other clients, including Steve. Steve. He’s pretty good looking—not that it matters, diary, but let’s face it, the man is fine. He is, in fact, the most handsome man I know. I mean . . .
Right in the middle of her last thought, Sierra heard the phone ring.
She had just bought a journal to log her thoughts throughout the day, as Dr. Cayden had suggested. She was hoping it would help her unscramble her mind, which was totally confused these days. It had been years since she’d even considered taking a vacation, but she would definitely take one now—just as soon as she found Steve a house, or after he decided to make an offer on the one that he’d seemed so interested in the last time they were together.
Sierra checked the caller ID on her cell phone. Mom. She answered.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, baby. How you been?”
“I’m good, Mama. What’s up with you?”
“Oh, nothing, baby. I’m just blessed and grateful to be alive. But I called to make sure you were all right. You haven’t been returning my calls like you should, and I gave you some space only because your sister told me about the dreams you’ve been having and that you wanted to be left alone.”
Sierra took in what her mom was saying and shook her head at the fact that her mom and sister were talking about her behind her back. The fact was, she always wanted to be left alone, but these two wouldn’t stop meddling if she paid them.
“Mama, I’m fine. It’s nothing that I can’t handle, and I’m handling it okay.” Please, let that be enough, Sierra pleaded silently.
Pearl sighed in resignation. “I’ll let it go,” she said. “As long as you promise to learn how to return a phone call within a twenty-four-hour period.”
“Fine, Mama,” Sierra agreed, now smiling.
“Anyways, that’s not why I called. I called to ask if you’ve been out with Dale yet.”
It took a second for Sierra to even recall who Dale was. Oh yes, that’s right—the setup. Only now did she remember that she was supposed to call him back and hadn’t. She really didn’t want to pass this information on to her mother, however. She knew that would just open up the floodgates of investigation.
“Well, uhh, not yet. We had a date planned but had to break it.”
“You haven’t talked to him since then? You guys haven’t rescheduled?”
“No, Mama, we haven’t,” Sierra reluctantly admitted.
“Well, don’t wait too long. He seems like a very nice young man, and you really don’t get out enough. You need to try and give somebody a chance. It’s not right being by yourself so much and at your age. You should be getting those feelers out to see if you can find a husband. That might be why you’re having the bad dreams.”
Oh my goodness! Sierra screamed in her head. She so wanted to hang up the phone and end this conversation, but that was not an option. She respected her mother too much to ever hang up on her. And somewhere deep inside, she also knew that this conversation was coming from a concerned-parent kind of place.
“I want you to promise that you’ll call him today and reschedule your date.”
“Oh, come on, Mama. I’ll call him when I get a chance.” Sierra wanted to point out to her mom that Dale was obviously not pressed about the date himself because he hadn’t called to reschedule, either—but then a vague memory of seeing a follow-up text from him about a week after their broken date came to her. Whoops.
“No,” Pearl said. “I already know what that means when you say it, and I want you to promise me that you’ll call him today. Like when you get off the phone with me.”
Pearl faced complete silence on the other end of the phone, as Sierra didn’t know what to say.
“Come on, do this for your mom who loves you so much and just wants to see you happy.”
Sierra hated when her mom used that line about loving her so much during negotiations. Coming from her, those words held a lot of power.
“Fine, I promise. Okay,” Sierra blurted out in frustration.
“Good. Now, baby, did you eat today?”
Sierra’s mom carried on with her regular line of questioning about what Sierra had been eating and how work was going for another half hour. Then, finally, she said she had to go because she had errands to run—but not before reminding Sierra of her promise to call Dale.
When she hung up with her mom, Sierra put the phone back down on the table and looked at her hands, as if they would hold the answer to whether or not she should call Dale right now or later.
Studying the lines on her hands, she traced the lines on her palms as they started on one side of her hand
and then disappeared between her fingers. She’d heard people call these lines “life lines” before. The longer these lines were, the longer you were supposed to live, or something like that. She couldn’t really remember right now. What she was beginning to realize was that life was short and if she wasn’t careful, it would pass her by.
“Okay, I’ll call now,” she decided aloud.
She picked her cell phone back up and found Dale in her contact list, then quickly pressed the enter button to dial his number before she decided not to do it.
The phone rang, and after about two rings, a male voice said, “Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Dale?” Sierra asked tentatively.
“Yes, it is.”
“Hey, Dale. This is Sierra, giving you a call back.”
“Sierra, Sierra . . .” Dale repeated, as if trying to remind himself who she was. And then he said with a laugh, “Just kidding! Hey, Sierra, I didn’t think that you would call me back. I thought maybe you were mad because I had to cancel.”
Sierra found that hilarious, remembering how relieved she’d been that he had canceled. But instead of revealing that information, she simply said, “No, I wasn’t angry. Actually, I was calling to see if you wanted to reschedule.”
“Sure, definitely,” Dale agreed without hesitation. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
Sierra thought about it and realized the next day would be Friday. She had nothing to do on Friday night. The thought ran across her mind that maybe she should pretend she had to check a schedule, so that Dale wouldn’t think she had no life. But she wanted to turn over a new leaf. She would be up front and clear. “Sure, tomorrow night would be fine. Let’s say around eight.”
“Sounds good,” Dale replied.
“Okay, well, I’ll talk to you later then.”
“Okay,” Dale said, amusement evident in his voice.
“Okay, bye,” Sierra quickly said, and she disconnected the call.
For some reason she had thought there was no way Dale would want to make another date; she hadn’t been prepared for him to say yes to rescheduling. But she had to go through with it now. She would just have to try and control her anxiety about all the other things going on in her life and go out on a date with this guy.
Well, at least she had something to do this Friday night. It would either be enjoyable or a disaster—but either way, the outing would be a distraction from all of the very serious thoughts battling inside of her head.
Chapter 13
Day turned into night and light became darkness. As Dr. Cayden had instructed, Sierra began to attempt to get in a relaxed space before going to sleep. She turned the lights down in her bedroom and bathroom and placed scented lavender candles all around both the spaces. After a nice, long bubble bath, she changed into her most comfortable cotton nightgown and lay down in her bed. She felt her eyes start to droop, and she pulled the covers and comforter tight around her. Her whole body settled down.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw an easel in front of her. That was the very first thing that Sierra noticed. The second was that she was no longer in the sweet comfort of her home. She looked around and saw that she was at a river’s edge, surrounded by trees bursting with foliage. The air around her was alive. She could hear the sounds of the forest. The birds were singing as they flew through the trees celebrating their freedom. The insects bustled around, shaking the leaves and moving through the dirt, accomplishing their day’s work. The water streamed through the rocks, alive and creating life. The river’s song settled her even as she struggled to gather her thoughts.
Sierra was sitting on a quilt of greens, blues, and grays that acted as camouflage against the floor of the forest. She was wearing the same dress she had been wearing at the church in her last dream. In front of her was a canvas that featured the woods around her. The painting captured the essence of the forest while still allowing the observer to see the peace and tranquility the artist felt from interacting with this backdrop.
Sierra stared at the painting for a moment, so absorbed in appreciating it that she almost forgot that she hadn’t yet determined where she was or why she was here. She had only gotten so far as to deduce that she must be dreaming again.
She admired the painting for a few moments. She appreciated the artist’s brushstrokes, and his or her ability to see what others might not so readily see. She looked around to discover who might be the owner of the painting, and realized that she was holding a paintbrush.
Recognition came in that second. She was the painter. This canvas belonged to her.
Noticing the oil paints lying on the quilt, she slowly dipped her brush into the dark green. The shade was already perfectly blended to translate the green in the foliage of the tree that stood in front of her. She allowed her hand to move. For the moment, she didn’t care if this was a dream. She enjoyed the jolt of exhilaration that came as her brush touched the canvas, and she began to make slow strokes. She felt her spirit soar and her mind emancipate itself.
She was so caught up in painting that she didn’t notice the rustle going through the trees until it grew loud enough to demand her attention, even in her lost state. Suddenly apprehensive, Sierra went perfectly still. It instantly occurred to her that in her dreams, she always had to be ready for anything. Even when she experienced calm, chaos was never far behind. She put the paintbrush down and braced herself for what would happen next.
“Dorothy, Dorothy, where are you?” a concerned male voice called out.
Sierra continued to be silent, not yet ready to reveal her location to whomever was asking. But even without her response, the voice got closer and closer and continued to call for her.
Sierra sighed and marveled at the persistence of this stranger. She stood up and moved away from the blanket, closer to the riverbed. She still refused to call out.
After a few minutes, she saw the greenery being brushed back, and a male figure burst forth.
Even as she registered that she had met this man before, he rushed toward her and grabbed her in a hug that lifted her off her feet and spun her around. Sierra had no real option but to hold on tight. Before putting her down, the man dipped her over his arm and kissed her lips with a sincerity that convinced Sierra she would have probably swooned had he not been holding her. When he released his hold a little, it was only to make enough room to look into her eyes.
Sierra gazed back and was surprised by how familiar those eyes were. She knew this man. He was the handsome charmer from the house in the last dream. But even with that knowledge, she recognized that her heart, although beating irregularly, also acknowledged him. This man was something more than a stranger.
Knowledge such as this would normally strike fear into Sierra’s heart. This time, however, she wasn’t afraid—she was intrigued. She didn’t yet know if her courage was coming from her recognition that this was, in fact, a dream, or if the man himself set her mind at rest.
As Sierra pondered these questions, the man took his finger and ran it across the lips he had just kissed.
“Dorothy, didn’t you hear me calling you?”
Sierra understood that she was meant to answer, but she didn’t really know what to say, so she merely nodded and continued to stare. She watched as worry entered his eyes.
He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up toward his. “Are you feeling okay?”
Again, Sierra only nodded, but this time she added a shaky smile, hoping to put him at ease. She had known from the moment she saw him that he would never physically hurt her—and now, staring into his eyes, she was awestruck at the affection that was evident in them. Sierra thought the emotion might be love, but she hadn’t had enough experience with that feeling to be sure.
She finally found her voice and responded. “I’m okay.”
This seemed to bring relief to her admirer, and he was able to finally release her. As he did, he reached into a satchel that Sierra hadn’t even realized he was holding.
&n
bsp; Freed from the power of his gaze, she took the opportunity to fully take him in. He was tall, with dark skin and thick black hair that was cut neatly into an Afro. He had on a crisp, white, short-sleeved dress shirt and black dress pants that were neatly pressed.
“I came to get you. It’s almost time for the meeting. I’ve been going over a few ideas, things that we could try and do differently on our next march. I also have some thoughts about how we could get more people to try and register to vote.”
The man continued to talk as if he and Sierra were picking up a conversation that they had put down. She struggled to catch up.
“The march and voting?” Sierra asked, openly trying to understand.
He gave Sierra an odd look before answering. “Yes, Dorothy. We’re supposed to go out tomorrow and try again to get people to vote. These white folks got people so scared that I don’t know how many people are going to even open their doors and hear us out. But we’ve got to keep trying, right?”
“Right,” Sierra said, answering him mostly to keep the conversation going.
She remembered talking with her grandmother about when workers came to her town in Mississippi and labored to get black people to register to vote. Even as the man continued to talk, she allowed her eyes to drift to the river. It looked similar to the one that ran by her grandmother’s house. The memory of speaking to her grandmother about— well, about anything brought a smile to Sierra’s face, as her grandmother had long ago passed away. But a slight frown quickly followed when she remembered the danger that was attached to trying to vote during that time.
“Dorothy, where are you? You’ve got this funny, faraway look. Are you even listening?”
Sierra shook her head to try and gain some focus, and then she struggled to answer him. “I’m listening, um . . . umm.” She had no idea what his name was.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right? If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you’d forgotten my name.” He lovingly touched her cheek, and smiled playfully as he said, “I’m John, your man, remember?”
Awaken Page 7