Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire

by Aleatha Romig

  “Really, a twin bunk bed? That’s what you like?” They both giggled.

  “As long as you’re here.” Claire saw the two of them, a big mound under the covers, laughing and playing. As the covers moved she recognized herself and Simon—Simon Johnson. She hadn’t thought of him in years. She’d made herself compartmentalize him away.

  Their hair disheveled, they looked too young for such activities. This was her freshman dorm room.

  “Claire, I want to marry you.”

  “Yeah, right.” She didn’t believe him. Her plans didn’t include marriage. Young Simon, however, meant every word he said. Now as Claire watched she wondered—what if?

  “No, really. We can wait until we’re through school or we can run away today. I’m not busy—how about you?” He pretended to be playful, but his tone held more than a hint of sincerity.

  “Give me a rain-check, okay?” Claire nibbled his ear. “I think my dad might be upset if I decide to throw away a year of school to get married during spring semester.”

  “I want to marry you—not stop your dreams—we can still finish school and you can be a famous meteorologist.” Simon didn’t get upset. He smiled tenderly and continued, “A famous meteorologist named—Claire Johnson.” He playfully nibbled her ear and let her take a turn on his. They lay in that little twin bunk bed and talked for hours.

  As Claire watched memories flooded her consciousness. The two of them had shared so much of themselves, their dreams, ambitions, troubles, failures, hopes, and accomplishments. Nothing could stop the mutual admiration and affection of their first love. She watched as they finally got out of bed and dressed—wearing sweatpants and Valparaiso University sweatshirts. Claire put her hair in a ponytail.

  Looking at her now, Claire chastised herself. She needed a shower—some make-up—and definitely a brush. Simon didn’t notice—compliments came between hugs and kisses. He told her he thought she looked beautiful and doted on each word. They were both completely in love. They discussed the finer dining establishments near campus—Taco Bell, McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, or Wendy’s.

  With a warm loving kiss they mutually decided it would be Taco Bell—No pretense—no rules—only warmth and an undying need to be together. As they left the dorm room, Claire looked at the mess—clothes on the floor, bed unmade, a pizza box next to the trash can—and she saw the comforts of home.

  The scene vanished, fading to black—the feeling of love remained.

  After watching, all she thought—please don’t fade. I want to keep this going. However, it did—it faded.

  Slowly, the scene evaporated—slipped away into cool darkness. Claire felt so cold. She wanted a blanket, something, anything with heat—please! She’d beg if necessary. The cold was so—cold! Her body trembled uncontrollably.

  “Claire, the doctor said you may be able to hear us when we talk. Catherine and I’ve been talking to you for days—for over a week. He said you’ll wake up when your pain decreases and you’re ready. Please be ready soon. This liquid crap they’re putting in your arm may have nutrients, but you’re wasting away. Catherine has had the cook prepare all the foods you like—every day—just in case you wake and want something.” Tony’s voice sounded close. She sensed his distress and concern.

  Claire had to wonder, if I open my eyes will he be right there. Did he say over a week? I have been asleep for over a week? How did that happen? Why was a doctor here? Claire couldn’t remember the whys or how, all she could remember were her parents, her grandparents, her sister, and Simon. Those memories filled her with hope and promise, and yet Tony sounded like he needed her.

  She knew she needed to go to Tony. She didn’t want to make him wait, but she was so tired and weak. Maybe a little more rest before she opened her eyes. Someone must have put blankets on her because she felt warmer. Along with the warmth Claire felt the stiffness of her dress—it was sea foam green. She was seeing herself in a full length mirror as Emily watched. They were in a big dressing room.

  “I love it!” Emily observed Claire from all sides. “It’s perfect for my wedding.”

  “Seriously, Em, you want me to wear green?” Claire’s tone sounded joking—it wasn’t. She remembered not liking the dress, but of course she would wear it, if that was what Emily wanted.

  “Yes. With your eyes, it’s stunning.” Claire watched the two sisters and again became self-critical, the Claire she saw looked too heavy and her hair was too thick and bushy. Emily was seeing someone different as she played with Claire’s hair, twisting it and talking, “With your hair up and some dangly earrings—I know you can wear Grandma’s necklace—it has a pearl, and I’ll wear Mom’s strand of pearls. They’ll look great! That will be my something old. You’ll almost be as pretty as me.”

  The mention of Grandma’s necklace triggered something sad, yet Claire couldn’t remember why the sadness came. She couldn’t seem to remember—

  Emily, being three years older than Claire, was the bride, and yet she also had the responsibilities of the mother-of-the-bride. Their mother should have been there, but she wasn’t. The girls only had each other. It was Emily’s wedding, yet she encouraged Claire.

  Claire smiled at her sister and her green eyes sparkled. “Yeah, you wish. I just want you to know John secretly loves me! We wanted to tell you—but you know?”

  “Honey, he isn’t secretive about that. He loves you—you’re his little sister.”

  “Yeah, I know. I have to beat the men off with sticks. Okay, I’ll wear green, but for my wedding I’m finding you the gaudiest bubblegum, pink dress you’ve ever seen!” The two sisters laughed. Emily helped Claire out of the dress and they continued their shopping. They had so many things to do before the wedding. Together they’d do it all.

  Just like the little girls with the juice, they were there for one another. After their parents died it was the two of them against the world. John understood and never tried to come between them. Even when Claire moved in with them as newlyweds, they welcomed her.

  Briefly Claire saw their home in Troy, New York. Not large—it could be better described as crowded. Seeing it again, from afar, filled Claire with affection and warmth. John worked long hours, and Emily had her teaching responsibilities, but they still managed to make Claire feel welcome. She suddenly wondered if she’d ever thanked them. She couldn’t remember…

  The scenes faded faster now. The warmth and strength evaporated. The blackness returned and pulled her in. Claire instinctively wanted to get away from the blackness.

  The serenity transformed into coldness. She opened her eyes and saw it—the cold blackness staring back at her. She gasped and closed her eyes, but then she heard the voices coming from different directions. “Claire, are you awake?”

  “Ms. Claire, please come back to us.”

  Tony spoke fast, “She opened her eyes. I saw it—just a second ago”—she felt his hand on hers—so warm compared to the cold—“Can you hear me?” He continued speaking to Catherine, “Go get the doctor. He’s getting something to eat in the kitchen. Let him know she’s finally waking.” With a different tone, one of desperation and affection, he pleaded, “Claire, please open your eyes.”

  Do you know what happens to scar tissue? It’s the strongest part of the skin

  —Michael R. Mantell

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‡

  Claire inhaled—her chest felt tight—and there was a deep ache on her right side. She tried to remember. How did she get this way? She felt so weak. She tried to move her hand to touch Tony’s, even the attempt exhausted her. There was an odd feeling on her left arm. She turned her head to see what was making her arm feel strange. Everything blurred out of focus. The light in the room was so intense—she couldn’t see. Tony noticed her eyes squint, immediately got up from the side of her bed, and closed the drapes.

  He returned and picked up her hand. His voice was soft, “It was too bright in here. I closed the drapes for you. Is that better?”

  C
laire tried to respond; she couldn’t speak. Her mouth was too dry. She moved her head ever so slightly, indicating Yes, it is better. The movement of her head made her dizzy, while the inability to speak frightened her causing her eyes to moisten. When her lids closed a tear escaped, sliding down her cheek.

  “It’s okay, you don’t need to talk”—Tony’s tone was kind and loving—“Please open your eyes again. It’s so good to see your beautiful emerald eyes.” He held gently to her hand.

  Claire opened her eyes and looked at the needle taped to the bend of her left arm. As if reading her mind, he explained, “That’s how you’ve been eating for almost two weeks, and it has some pain medicine too—to make you more comfortable.”

  Claire started to remember…she was in the woods…she came home and Tony—oh, God! Tony!—The memory made her eyes open wide with panic.

  She remembered.

  Tony’s voice continued, gentle and comforting, “Can you remember what happened? You had an accident.”

  Claire tried to say, “No, you did this,” but she couldn’t.

  It may have been the dryness of her tongue—or the horror of the images—but she just stared as he continued speaking, “You had an accident in the woods. When we found you, your jeans and boots were all muddy, and you had multiple injuries. Did you fall? Did you slip? Did someone or something out there hurt you? We’ve had the woods searched. Nothing was found.”—he leaned toward her—“Claire, we’ve been so worried about you.”

  The stiffness in her neck made turning painful, and the dizziness made focusing difficult. She heard Catherine. Someone was with her. Was it the doctor?

  Whoever he was, suddenly, he was right in front of her; an older man with a very pleasant, encouraging, deep voice. “Ms. Nichols, I’m Dr. Leonard. I’ve been taking care of you since Mr. Rawlings found you in the woods. Can you talk to me?”

  Claire lifted her right hand to her throat. The slightest movement tired her.

  “Catherine, could you please get Ms. Nichols some water?” Catherine hurried for the liquid. Claire watched Catherine return with a glass and a straw. She handed it to the doctor, who put the straw to Claire’s lips. “Drink slowly; your stomach has been empty for a while.” Claire began to sip as the water cooled and refreshed her parched throat. While she continued to drink, the doctor spoke to Tony. Each sip soothed, while at the same time creating a buzzing sound which filled her head. She could see the doctor’s lips moving, as well as Tony’s, but she only heard the buzz. When he removed the straw from her lips, the buzzing ceased.

  “Please, that was so good,” Claire spoke. The room went silent. Everyone turned to her.

  Tony spoke first, “Claire, thank God. How do you feel?” As he leaned over her, she realized she wasn’t in her bed—it was a hospital bed. That made sense. She wondered how she’d sat up, but, she wasn’t in a hospital room—it was her suite.

  “I feel…I feel…tired…and kind of dizzy,” her voice quivered with uncertainty and pain.

  Dr. Leonard asked Tony and Catherine to allow him to examine Claire alone. Catherine agreed and began to leave, but Tony stayed, saying Claire wouldn’t mind him being there. Claire started to agree that Tony could stay, when Dr. Leonard continued, “Mr. Rawlings, I realize you hired me; however, as a medical doctor, I need to see and talk to Ms. Nichols alone. You’ll be welcomed back as soon as we’re done.” Tony stared at Dr. Leonard. The doctor continued, “Mr. Rawlings, she is not related to you. We must allow her some privacy.”

  Claire watched and thought Tony can handle this—it’s his battle. However, surprisingly, he didn’t battle. Instead, he replied, “I’m sorry; you’re right. It’s just that it’s been so long since she’s been awake. I don’t want to leave her.” Standing, he continued, “I will; I’ll be right outside the door. Please call me when you’re finished.” He then leaned over, kissed Claire on her forehead, and left the room.

  The doctor spoke soothingly as he helped Claire remove her nightgown and removed tubes. Claire mindlessly thought the doctor’s breath smelled like coffee—she liked coffee. He pushed on her side and asked, “Does this hurt?” Next, he touched her face, her cheek, her temple, and asked if any of it hurt? He examined her head, touching her skull, front and back, and near the neck. Then, he focused on her arms and legs. Lastly, he touched her back, pushing harder in some spots. Claire saw the remnants of bruises on her arms, legs, and midsection and felt them elsewhere. Her back and midsection hurt the most from the doctor’s pressure, and her face felt tender. Looking at her legs covered in brown and yellow marks, she wondered if her face looked as bad as her legs. After he finished with his examination, and yes—no questions, he helped her put her nightgown back on.

  “Ms. Nichols, I need you to be completely honest with me, do you understand?”

  “Yes, but I’m getting very tired.”

  “Please tell me what you remember from the night of your accident.”

  “Dr. Leonard, I’m very tired and my memories are fuzzy.” As she spoke her head continued to buzz. Her throat once again felt raw. The combination made talking difficult.

  “It’s all right. Let me put your bed back.” He pushed the button to recline the bed and continued to inquire, “Now, please, what do you remember?”

  The fatigue overwhelmed Claire. Abruptly her stomach revolted against the water. Initially queasy, she instantly knew she would be sick. “Doctor, I’m going to get sick”—she sat up. He grabbed a basin, and the water she drank came back up.

  “Miss Nichols, it’s okay. It’s normal—your stomach has been empty for too long.”

  The vomiting made her shake, and suddenly her head and ribs throbbed. The fierce pain caused her to cry.

  “Ms. Nichols, your pain medicine has started to wear off. I’ll get you some more, but I want you to be thinking straight. Please tell me what happened.” He was persistent.

  Claire felt faint and her body felt limp. She wanted food, but her stomach wouldn’t even hold water. The doctor wanted to know what happened—and she knew. When she closed her eyes and felt the pain she saw Tony. She saw his rage, his fury, his unwillingness to listen. She remembered every terrifying minute until she blacked out. It happened two weeks ago, yet she still felt the agony.

  The weakness, combined with the unsettled stomach, told her it wasn’t going to end anytime soon. Claire wanted to go back to her visions. Nevertheless, the doctor waited for the answer to his question. He gave her some more water but instructed her to only rinse and spit into the basin. It helped the terrible taste go away.

  Once her mouth again felt moist, she spoke, “I went for a walk in the woods—I like the woods—It rained the day before—and the ground was slippery in some spots—I made it into the woods fine—but I let it get dark—I watched the sun set—I remember it being crimson and beautiful”—She laid her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes. Softly tears trickled down her cheeks. Dr. Leonard was determined; he asked her to continue. She did, but with closed eyes—“So it was dark by the time I headed back to the house—I remember getting to the clearing—which is about forty-five minutes from here—the sun—I mean the moon was bright—I tried to get back—Catherine had dinner waiting for me”—Her eyelids were heavy and her words slowed and slurred. She never remembered feeling so incredibly tired—all she wanted to do was sleep. Please God, she prayed, let me sleep.

  “Ms. Nichols, did you make it back to the house?” Dr. Leonard spoke softly.

  “I don’t remember.” Her decision was made. Telling the truth wouldn’t do any good. Actually, it would be a direct violation of Tony’s rules. She wasn’t allowed to discuss private matters. She’d learned her lesson well. As her ribs, head, and stomach ached, the lesson was reinforced. “I remember slipping in the mud. There were roots and limbs. It was very dark under the trees. After that, I just don’t know.”

  “Please know, Ms. Nichols, anything you disclose to me is said in confidence. I’m bound by complete patient—doctor confide
ntiality,” he spoke quietly. Despite her physical exhaustion, Claire’s mind was astute. She knew every word they uttered was recorded and possibly overheard as they spoke.

  “Doctor, I’m not sure what you’re asking me or what you’re implying, but I can’t remember what happened that night. Perhaps I hit my head?” Her eyes were open and brimming with tears. The exhaustion was debilitating. “Please, may I rest?” Her eyes closed and she slipped away.

  Hours later, Claire opened her eyes to see Catherine holding a glass of her famous banana strawberry yogurt smoothie. She told the caring woman she was afraid it would make her sick—like the water. Catherine explained the doctor had put some medicine in her IV. It would help with the pain and nausea. Claire reached for the button to sit herself up, but before she could get to it, Tony did. His presence caused her to involuntarily tremble. His eyes weren’t dark; instead, they were soft like brown suede. He gently touched her face. “You need to listen to Catherine. Please try to drink the smoothie. You need to get better, and to do that you need to eat.” She looked at him and wondered if he knew about her recent confidential conversation. He continued to plead, “Please, Claire.”

  She drank some of the smoothie, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

  The next time she woke, her suite burst with flowers. They looked beautiful and their aroma permeated her dreams. Over the next few weeks, they were constantly replaced. It seemed as if they never wilted. They were meant to make her feel better, but mostly they reminded her of the funeral home after her parents’ death.

  She even received get well cards and flowers from the Simmons’, Millers, and Bronsons. Apparently, Tony’s secretary, Patricia, called Sue to apologize; Claire had been so busy recently, and with her accident she hadn’t been able to call, but, she would when she felt better and got the chance.

  It made Claire feel so much better knowing that even though she’d almost died, appearances were maintained.