The Dream Canvas

by Unknown

  Yes the woman I’d loved before cheated and left, but Dottie was different. Dottie was the woman I’d been waiting for my entire life. Smart. Funny. Eccentric. And damn was she sexy. Not in the conventional vanilla sort of way. More like a shot of fireball with a side of whiskey kind of sexy. Spicy and intoxicating. Her eyes. Her body. Even her wild dreadlocks and tattoos turned me on. Being with her was like dipping my feet in the waters of rebellion. But the best thing about her was when I talked to her, I knew I could tell her anything. The whole world would turn silent and it was just the two of us. We could talk about our past with no reservations. We could talk about art, science, food, sex, anything at all. We connected on a level I never knew could exist between two people. I couldn’t just walk away from her. From us. From our past and our future. She was playing hard to get. And I like a good challenge.

  That’s why I decided to hop on a plane with a small bag of clothes stuffed in the overhead compartment and my nervous legs shaking fiercely in front of me. The old woman next to me stared at my legs like she wanted to reach out and hold them still. My nervousness was rubbing off on her. I tried to stop shaking them, and just ended up swinging them back and forth. Back and forth. The old woman folded her arms over her stomach and looked out the window, trying to ignore me.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Just nervous is all,” and I smiled at her hoping she’d understand.

  “It’s alright, honey. We all get a little nervous flying,” she said to me. She reminded me of my little Irish grandmother. Her hair was curly and periwinkle blue, like she’d just gone to the salon and used too much hair rinse. The dress she wore looked more like a mu-mu with a bright Hawaiian print all over it. She smelled like mothballs and denture cream. Which was comforting in a weird sort of way.

  I wasn’t nervous about the flight, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I let it go. A bouncy, middle-aged flight attendant brushed by me, her hip bumping into my elbow. All I could think was when are they going to bring out the booze cart? I needed something to loosen me up a bit. Something to calm my nerves.

  I remember second-guessing myself. I debated on whether I should’ve called before hopping on the next flight to Tampa. Someone in their right mind would have called first. Whoever said I was in my right mind would be out of their mind. No one takes a random trip to a strange city to meet someone who had been painting their dreams, just to tell them they were falling in love with them…for a third time. What was I going to say when she opened her door? Hey, uhh Dottie. Remember me? I’m the douchebag who said he loved you on the first date. You know, the creepy guy who admired your artwork so much he made a thousand-mile trip just to meet you? Then I figured - screw it. I was determined to tell her she was the right one for me, and I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. We were made for each other. There was a reason we were having the same dreams at the same times. There was a reason she painted me into her artwork. Her soul was calling to mine. We’d known each other in multiple lifetimes before.

  I spent the rest of my flight sipping whiskey sours, talking small talk with the sweet lady beside me. Her name was Margaret. She lived in Tampa but had visited her granddaughter in Upstate New York. The small talk eased my anxiety a bit, so I was glad for it. Arriving to the airport, I had to remind myself to breathe and be patient or else I would’ve knocked down every other person on that airplane just to be the first to get off. I hopped in a taxi and headed to Ybor City, the whole while debating what I was going to say to Dottie. It didn’t help that the Haitian cab driver barely spoke a word of English. More small talk would’ve been just the thing. He seemed nice enough, though.

  Rounding the corner of the century-old apartment building, the butterflies swirling around in my stomach threatened to evacuate the two whiskey sours I’d put back while in flight. I took another deep breath. It was time to nut up or shut up.

  I got halfway up the steps and seriously considered turning around and flying back to New York. The problem was I had already spent the money on a five-hundred-dollar round-trip flight, and Suzanne would have killed me if she knew I’d pussed out. Dottie probably wasn’t even home, and if that was the case I would call and talk to her like a normal guy would. I knocked on the door and after a minute of shuffling sounds on the other side, the door flew open and slammed into the Formica counter behind. Her landlord had really done a poor job of renovating. I remembered thinking the same thing the first night I was there.

  Some guy wearing a holey t-shirt and skinny jeans stood in front of me. His arms down to his hands were tattooed. There was even tattoos on his neck. He looked like a reject from a sleazy tattoo shop in one of those strip malls in the middle of nowhere. And he was in Dottie’s apartment. I took a step back to look at the number on the apartment door, just to make sure it was the right place. It was. Some fucking douchebag I didn’t know was in her apartment. I could only hope he was Dottie’s brother or maybe a cousin visiting from out of state. I really hoped it wasn’t who I thought it was. The alarms were sounding in my head.

  The look on his smug face told me he wasn’t expecting me to be standing there either.

  “Yeah. Can I help you, bro?” he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned into the door.

  Bro? Really? I’m not your bro. His eyes scanned up and down. He was grilling me hard. Sizing me up to see if he could take me. I don’t think so, bud.

  Dude had no chance in hell, and I would’ve loved to have seen him try. I would have broken his toothpick arms like twigs. At this point, my testosterone was amplified by a thousand. Every muscle in my body was preparing to kick some ass. Tensed and ready to pounce.

  “Is Dottie home?” I sounded like a little kid asking a parent if his daughter could come out to play. What I should have said was who the fuck are you and where is Dottie?

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m a friend of hers. Name’s Isaiah,” I reached my hand out as a cordial gesture, despite my desire to grab him by the back of his scrawny neck and slam him on the ground. Homeboy stared at it as if he’d never shaken a hand before. This son of a bitch was really getting under my skin.

  “Okay, Isaiah. I’m her fiancé, Rory. And no she’s not home right now,” the sliminess just poured off this guy in buckets. His whole presence wreaked of bullshit. He looked like he was wearing a pair of girl’s skinny jeans, they were so tight. No doubt he’d picked them up in the junior girls’ department at Walmart. The shitty tattoo on his neck was peeling off in layers.

  “So you two are back together, I take it?” I couldn’t believe I was even inquiring, but I’d flown all the way to Tampa to see Dottie, so I felt I deserved some clarification.

  “I don’t know what you mean. We never broke up. Are you fucking her, dude?” his face turned red, matching his shaved red head.

  Clearly I had made a mistake. Maybe they had been together the whole time I was seeing her, then again maybe not. But I couldn’t stand there and get in a fight with this pathetic waste of oxygen. It wasn’t worth my time or energy. Time to leave and go get wasted.

  “Alright. There’s been a misunderstanding here. I’m just going to go,” I pointed to the stairs and walked away as Rory Langdon, Dottie’s supposed fiancé, muttered a few insults under his breath and slammed the door. The sound echoed off the brick walls. The humiliation hit me like a wrecking ball.

  Life had come to an abrupt standstill in my head, but outside life continued to move forward. A pair of punk teens walked by holding hands, I envied them deeply. A mother pushed her snot-nosed baby in a stroller. A man in an old brown suit holding a stack of newspapers rushed by. I heard the ding ding ding of a trolley car in the distance. The smell of Cuban food and pastries hit my nose making me feel sick, reminding me of the first night I met Dottie. That masterpiece of a woman, glowing in the candlelight fluorescing hues of amber. The smile on her face. The hesitation in her eyes. What a fool I’d been. Of course she was engaged. No wonder she had been so reluctant to see me again.

  How
could she have been with such a piece of shit like this Rory guy? He didn’t have a real job, he mooched off of her and had left her time and time again. Yet he was living with her and they were still engaged? Maybe I’d had her all wrong from the beginning. How could she have been that wonderful of a person if she was with a loser like him? It hurt that she lied to me like she had. She should’ve told me she was taken. She shouldn’t have ever gone out with me in the first place.

  I slipped my smart phone from my suitcase pocket and realized it’d been powered off since I’d stepped on the plane. Then I saw it. One new voicemail. I held the phone up to my ear, but she hadn’t left a message. She had hung up. I hit return call and the phone rang. I sank down onto the nearest bench and pulled my luggage close to me so no one could take off with it. I shoved my finger into the other ear, straining to hear.

  “Isaiah? Can you hear me?” her voice rang out like a church bell through dark silence.

  “Yeah. I can hear you. I got a missed call from you?” I convinced myself to keep it cool, calm and collected. I hadn’t planned on telling her I was in Tampa until I heard why she’d called me in the first place. Then I would clear this whole mess up.

  “Yes, I have to see you. I’m coming to New York,” as soon as the words hit my eardrums, disbelief set in.

  “Huh? What do you mean? Don’t do that, Dottie. It’s okay if you want to be with him. I know I probably made things more complicated for you, but if he makes you happy then you deserve him,” I was lying through my teeth. I didn’t want her to be with him. I wanted her to be with me, even if she had lied to me. I realize that made me seem pathetic, but sometimes pathetic is your middle name when you’re in love.

  Silence for a moment and then, “Be with who? Rory? I don’t want to be with him. I want to be with you, Isaiah. I love you. I know I was an asshole to you before, blowing you off and giving you the whole heartbroken song-and-dance but the truth is we are supposed to be together. What two people dream of each other, meet and fall in love? No one does…just us. We were meant for each other. My Dad tried to tell me that in my dreams more than once, I just didn’t want to hear him. Can I please come see you? I don’t want to do this over the phone.”

  It was my turn to talk. To say something. But I didn’t know how to respond. My head was spinning, my stomach was reeling. She was telling me exactly what I had hoped to hear, and like an idiot, I couldn’t utter a single word.

  “No, you can’t come see me in New York,” I replied. I knew how brash that sounded. I imagined her getting off a plane, catching a cab to the fire station and then being told I wasn’t there. I imagined her being lost in New York, all by herself. I had to stop her.

  “Why not?” her voice cracked.

  “Because I’m in Tampa. I came to see you, but instead of finding you, I found your fiancé.” There. The truth was out. And I was more than ready to hear her side of the story. To hear the truth from her mouth.

  “Oh my god! You’re here? I can’t believe you’re here…wait a second! Rory answered my door? He’s not supposed to be there. Jesus. I’m coming right now. Are you close by? Where are you right now?”

  “I’m sitting on a bench across from Central Bakery. I was about to leave, but I can see I almost jumped the gun there, didn’t I?” I laughed.

  “Don’t move! I’ll be there soon!” Click.

  Chapter 15

  Dottie

  He was here. In Tampa. I couldn’t believe he’d come back to see me at the same time I was planning to come see him. I broke out into a run, almost trampling a sweet old Cuban man with a cane. I was only three blocks away, so I knew if I hauled ass I could be there within five minutes. I had to see Isaiah. I had to see him and reassure him I wasn’t with Rory. That asshole needed to get out of my place and out of my life. I couldn’t believe he’d almost screwed up my chances with Isaiah. Misery loves company. I guess he figured he’d go ahead and do as much damage as he could before leaving. Like a swarm of locusts in a meadow. Destroying everything in his path.

  One more block. I ran so fast my dreads flailed behind me and the beads clicked together, creating a sound like the noisemaker on a child’s tricycle. It looked like I had a wind streamer attached to my head. I didn’t know who to deal with first. Kick the shit out of Rory or kiss Isaiah? How did I find myself in such a weird love triangle? A month prior to this I was alone, then all of a sudden I had two men to manage?

  Then I spotted him sitting on a bench, looking as beautiful as ever. Honestly, I’d never thought I’d call a man beautiful but there was no better word to describe him. I slowed my run to a walk, came up beside him and rested my hand on his shoulder. A car honked at a transit bus on the street in front of us. Jazz music played from somewhere above us.

  “Hi,” I said and the corners of my mouth stretched out to greet my earlobes. I couldn’t stop myself from beaming. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “Dottie. Hi. I don’t know what to say,” he reached out to hold my hand.

  “Don’t say anything. I’ll do the talking. But first,” I grabbed the back of his head and stood on my tip-toes. I kissed him like I’d never kissed anyone before. He slipped his hands around my back and pulled me against him so tight. We melted into a kiss so perfect it would’ve made June and Johnny Cash jealous. Have you ever had a kiss like that? Where you forget where you are and who you are? Have you ever had a kiss that made your heart beat hard and your entire body clench with anticipation? As cheesy as it sounds, this was one of those kisses. One I’ll never forget.

  The kiss ended, and I opened my eyes. They’d been squeezed shut and my vision had gone blurry from the intensity of it all. It felt like I’d just smoked a huge blunt of purple haze. I was spinney and hot-headed. For a while, we stood there on the sidewalk, holding one another, not saying a word. People rushed by us, focused on whatever they had to do. Most of them never even noticed us. I laid my head on his chest and listened to the sound of his breathing. In and out. In and out.

  “Isaiah? I’m sorry for what I did to you. I know I pushed you away. The truth is, I’m falling for you. Hard.”

  “I know. I feel the same way about you, but you already knew that.”

  Then I remembered. “I can’t believe that asshole is still in my house. I’m so pissed right now,” I pulled away and headed to the entrance of my apartment building. Isaiah had almost made me forget Rory was still in my house.

  “Dottie, if you’re not together, why is he in your house?” good question.

  “I don’t know. He showed up out of nowhere just today. I told him to get his stuff and leave. I gave him a time limit, of which he didn’t pay attention to. Obviously. I’m going to take care of this right now.” The timing of everything was insane, when I think about it now. Isaiah came to Tampa the same day I realized I was in love with him, the same day Rory reappears after being gone for weeks. Sometimes life is so weird.

  “Will you be okay? Do you want me to come with you?” he asked. I realized he was in an awkward predicament and a tinge of guilt welled up inside of me. No, he couldn’t come with me. Unless I wanted to split up a fight. Tempting, but no.

  “Ah, shit. Just stay here. I’ll be fine. I’m putting on my big-girl panties and dealing with this myself,” I grabbed the belt loops on my shorts and pulled up in an attempt to make him laugh. It worked.

  It had been two hours, and I had generously given Rory thirty minutes to vacate the premises. Instead of listening to me, he’d overstayed his welcome and pushed me to the very edge. I might have to snap on this ginger.

  When I opened the door, he was sitting on the kitchen stool staring at his phone. I wondered why he never called me if he’d had a phone all this time.

  “What are you still doing here? And why are you answering my door?” I had to reign myself in like a wild horse. If I didn’t, the devil inside was devising a plan to hurl something solid at his head, stand over his lifeless body on the floor and laugh maniacally. Once the devil’s out, y
ou can’t cage him back in.

  “Dottie. I love you, you know that. I’m home now. I won’t ever leave again,” he inched his way towards me. He actually thought he was going to sucker me back in with cheap lies.

  “Don’t come any closer. You aren’t welcome here, and we are not together. If I have to repeat myself, I will call the cops and have you arrested for breaking and entering.”

  “You can’t do that. I have a key to the apartment.”

  “Rory. Don’t fuck with me. You have no idea what I’m capable of. I’ve been very nice to you up until now, and you’ve yet to see me truly angry. I gave you a chance to get your shit and leave, but you didn’t listen. And now, before I lose my sanity, I’m giving you one more chance to get the fuck out.” My jaw tensed and my teeth clenched so tightly the enamel ground together sounding like two rusty gears grinding to a halt.

  “Is this because of that guy? Are you sleeping with him? Look, I can forgive you if you slept with him but you know he’ll never be me. We have a history, me and you. We’re getting married, remember?” I couldn’t believe he was pulling this on me again. He reached into his back pocket and out came a velvet blue box. The royal blue hue of Tiffany’s fame. I hoped and prayed it wasn’t a ring. Please let it be something else.

  “To prove to you that I love you and I mean it, I want to give this to you. I know I’m a little late, but better late than never, right?” He opened the box to reveal a gold ring encrusted with the three tiniest diamonds I’d ever seen. They mocked me with a dull sparkle in the light. He was down on one knee.

  Rory gazed up at me from his position on the floor, the cats circling him like a fish dangling on a hook. His expectations were high, so high I could feel them whizzing about in the air above our heads. But his expectations were about to be crushed big time. If he had the balls to leave me for the third time, go on a two month bender of drugs and who knows how many women, return to me just to have a place to live and act like he really loved me, then I had the balls to throw his shit out my window and kick him out of my life forever.