by Tenaya Jayne
Vincent was not in my room, however. He was in the room next to mine.
I hadn't yet been in this room. It was half the size of mine and about half as nice. The windows and the fireplace were smaller, and the bathroom was nothing but a sink, mirror, and a toilet. It looked like a hotel room; everything was impersonal and generic.
Vincent had already changed out of his suit and was wearing a tee shirt with flannel pajama pants. "I think I’ll claim this room as my own, if that’s okay with you. If you don’t mind me staying."
"Of course." I was impressed, he was such a gentleman. "Are you going to bed now?" I was unable to keep a note of disappointment out of my voice.
He smiled. "Not just yet. You go change and I’ll come in and say goodnight."
"Okay. I’ll just be a minute."
I went back to my room and carefully put my dress away back in its box. I stowed the box in the closet and put on my pink flannel pajamas. After I brushed my teeth, I knocked lightly on the wall that separated us. He strode into the room looking quite as handsome in his pajamas as he had in his suit. He smiled and without a word walked over to me and pulled me into his arms. Time seemed to stop. It was as if his spirit was enveloping me. My heart rate slowed and my muscles went limp involuntarily. He was putting me to sleep. He let go, leaving me just enough strength to get into bed. Holding my face gently in his hands, he kissed me one long moment. It was a normal kiss, peaceful even, not like the one this afternoon.
"You’re amazing," I sighed sleepily.
He chuckled. "Thanks. You are too."
I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes.
"Goodnight," he whispered.
"Goodnight."
He pulled the covers up to my chin, and I slept. Vincent left me alone. I ventured alone into Theta, unfortunately. This was my dream, not one he had woven for me. I was the only person in my head tonight. Moreover, I surmised the internal x-ray of earlier was the cause of the nasty fiction that surfaced in my dreams.
"No! Mother, please!"
She towered over me like a giant, laughing at me. Her face contorted with malice. Her long twisted fingers clutched my snow globe. I tried to snatch it from her, but it was just beyond my reach. She laughed all the louder at my pitiful attempts to get it, and dangled it above my head. I could see what she was about to do.
"No!" I cried. "It’s all I have! Please!"
If anything, my plea made her more determined. She held it high above her head and threw it. It spun through the air, and smashed into the wall. Shards of glass and water covered the floor, along with the little log cabin figurine, broken.
"Dulcee…" My father’s voice whispered from the remains of the globe.
I rolled over on my tear-soaked pillow and turned on the bedside lamp. I wanted to make sure I was totally awake. Crying while asleep is terrible. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand and stumbled out of bed. I grabbed my snow globe off the mantle and took it back to my bed. I crawled back under the covers, clutching it to my chest, and cried a little more.
"Vincent," I whispered.
There was no way he could have heard me through the wall, but I felt him stir all the same. A moment later, he opened my door.
"Are you okay?" he asked, shutting the door behind him.
"I am now."
He sat down next to me on the bed and wrapped his arms around me. I felt comforted and safe in his arms. He shifted away from me a little and I realized that the snow globe was sticking him in the ribs.
"Oh sorry," I said, moving it over to my side. I was not yet ready to let go of it.
Vincent looked at the snow globe thoughtfully for a moment, and then at my face.
"This is very important to you." It wasn’t a question.
He held out his hands and I handed it to him. He held it up close to his face, looking inside the globe and turned it over once, making it snow.
"Will you tell me about it?" he asked.
"Sure. It’s not that complicated. It was a Christmas present from my Dad. It was the last thing he gave me before he died. I think it had some special significance to him, but I don’t know for sure. It’s worth quite a lot of money…My mother would try to find it sometimes. I think she wanted to hock it. But she never found it. I had it well hidden…Anyway; I’m very attached to it. Like, it’s the only piece of my father I have left."
"I understand. And you just had a nightmare about it?"
"Yeah. I dreamed my mother broke it." My voice trembled.
"I’m so sorry."
I shrugged. "It’s okay. It’s not like it really happened."
"No, but you still had to feel what you would if it had. Can I put it back, or would you like to keep it by your bed?"
"You can put it back on the mantle," I said. "It’s probably safer there anyway."
Vincent put the snow globe back over the fireplace. He stood there for a moment, gazing at it thoughtfully. He turned back to me with a look of concentration on his face.
"What?"
"Oh, I was just thinking about something I would like to give you, but I want to wait until your birthday."
"Oh." I was shocked. "How do you know when my birthday is?"
He didn’t answer. He just smiled wickedly and flashed his eyes at me.
"Fine," I said peevishly. "Mind reader."
Vincent pulled his eyebrows down and looked offended. "I’m not a mind reader, Dulcee. I’m not a trickster, a charlatan, or a liar."
I was confused by his reaction. "Well, what are you then?" I asked earnestly.
"I’m the man who loves you."
We stared silently at each other for a moment.
"Will you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to dream unless you’re with me."
"Are you ready to go back to sleep, now?" he asked, climbing into bed with me. "I won’t leave you."
I was nervous as he snuggled in next to me. I knew what he might think my request meant and I myself was not entirely sure it didn’t. But he made no advance on me and I relaxed into his arms. I laid my head on his chest and listened to the drum of his heart. In his arms was the best place I’d ever been.
The rest of the night was peaceful and devoid of dreams.
As the sun came around our side of the earth again, turning the black sky to blue. When I opened my eyes, I was looking into Vincent’s sleeping face, and I knew this was the way I wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of my life.
I lay still, memorizing every contour of his face. I shivered as the fire inside me danced. I used to think I was plagued with bad luck, but how could I think that now? There was no one in the world like Vincent and he loved me! It was as though he had fallen from the sky. In 24 hours he had changed my life forever. Now, as I lay in his arms, the intensity of my emotions made me feel my heart would burst within me. I would sacrifice anything, everything, to keep a hold of what I now possessed.
I knew it was wrong of me, but I looked at Vincent with an overwhelming sense of possession. Of course, my head knew I didn’t own him, but my heart begged to differ. I knew I was in a bad spot. I had stumbled upon something I could not bear to live without. It was so much to lose I couldn’t stand to think about it. He had ruined me completely. Ruined me to everyone and everything but himself. Maybe that had been his intention all along. There was nothing he had left me fit for. How could anyone ever measure up to him?
That second day began a routine that would last throughout the next two weeks. Before the sun would rise, I would wake up in Vincent’s arms. He was always still asleep, but he would wake up a few minutes after I did. We spent our days happily enjoying the house and each other; our waking time was hardly what I would call mundane, but it was nothing compared to our nights.
Dreaming had become second nature to me, and I preferred it to anything else. The problem was I couldn’t dream every night. After going to wonderland with Vincent, I had to have at least one night off from dreaming after it. I sulked about it somet
imes, but Vincent was adamant that I get my rest. He said the strain on my mind would be too much. Maybe he was right; I had needed two days off after my birthday.
The actual day part of my seventeenth birthday had passed pleasantly but with little consequence. I kept waiting for the spectacular present I knew he had for me. Actually, there were two that I counted, though he only qualified one.
The first he gave me after dinner that evening, and it was the one Vincent didn’t consider a gift. I had settled down in my reading chair with a book for a few minutes while Vincent went and got something. I was only vaguely aware when he came back in the room, my nose in the book. However, he quickly caught my attention when the music started. I instantly put my book down and came to sit on the floor with him. He was sitting cross-legged by the fire strumming a guitar. He told me a few days before that he played, but this was the first time I had heard him.
He tuned it first, the firelight gleaming on the instrument’s polished black surface. Then his fingers masterfully began to fill the air with a soft melody. I was mesmerized by his easy prowess. He was totally confident with the guitar and manipulated it beautifully. This surprised me a little. My education of Vincent had taught me that in the dream world he was a smooth operator, but the rest of the time he was a little awkward. I didn’t mind this. I thought his awkwardness was adorable. My heart clenched in complete vulnerability when he began to sing to me. His singing voice was just as clear and confident as his playing, but the worst of it was, he was singing The Water is Wide.
I loved this song. I instantly felt the pressure build in my face as he sang out the first lines; The water is wide, I cannot get ore, and neither have I wings to fly, give me a boat that will carry two, and both shall row, my love and I.
His eyes never left mine as he sang, making it harder for me to not cry. The intensity that passed between us was palpable. When he began to sing the next verse, I sang with him, quietly, barely more than a whisper. Where love is planted, oh there it grows, it grows and blossoms like a rose, it has a sweet and blessed smell, no flower on earth can it excel.
I kept my voice steady, though a tear had managed to escape down my cheek. Vincent looked surprised when I sang with him, but smiled as though he had never been so happy. I pushed on, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it together through the next verse. Sure enough, on the last two lines, my voice broke and the tears flowed freely. The ship there is, and she sails the sea, she’s loaded deep as deep can be, but not so deep as the love I’m in, I know not if I sink or swim.
Vincent’s fingers paused over the strings, the music died in the air. He looked at me, perplexed. Though I had known for days that I loved him, I had not yet said it. I held his eyes with my own and did not blink. He waited, his brows furrowed.
"I love you."
Vincent’s face broke in exultation like the sun through a storm. He inhaled deeply and threw his head back, as though he were lifting his eyes to heaven and thanking God.
Later that night, Vincent gave me my other gift, the most wonderful, special dream I would ever have. When I opened my eyes in my dream, we were outside. However, it was not outside of Uncle Jack’s house. It was nowhere I knew, at first.
Vincent wouldn’t say anything, he just walked beside me, holding my hand. We were both wearing big furry coats, which surprised me. Usually I wore my spaghetti strap nightgown in dreams, even in the snow. But tonight, I swear I could feel the freezing wind blowing the snow around me. Vincent looked cold too his cheeks were pink. We came to a frozen stream and a stone footbridge. Just off in the distance was a small log cabin, its windows aglow, smoke rising from the chimney. A low rock wall surrounded the cabin’s small yard, and multi-colored lights sparkled in a pine tree by the front door. It was Christmas, just as it would be on the cover of a greeting card.
When I spotted the cabin, it took me two seconds to realize where we were. I gasped and turned in a full circle, taking everything in, just to make sure.
"We’re in my snow globe!" I exclaimed.
Vincent chuckled. "Yes, Dulcee."
"Wow. This is amazing! It's just how I pictured it. Can we go inside?" I was giddy.
"Of course. We can do anything you like."
I pulled Vincent along by the hand, over the footbridge and into the yard. I paused there, suddenly a little unsure.
"Vincent?"
"What?"
"Is my Father in there?" I asked in a shaky voice.
Vincent smiled. "He is. And the kids, too."
"The kids? What kids?"
"Our kids, Dulcee."
I tore my eyes away from him and looked at the closed door in front of us.
"Whoa." I whispered in amazement.
He squeezed my hand. "Whenever you’re ready."
I looked at him imploringly. "But…"
"Don’t look so worried, Sweetie. This doesn’t require anything of you. You’ll see. You can relax."
I exhaled a puff of steam, and reached for the door. The smells of Christmas dinner filled my nose. It was a Christmas fantasy. The tree was huge, reaching the ceiling, and glittering all over. The stone hearth beside it was ablaze, hung with five patchwork stockings. Every space in the rustic little house was decorated for Christmas. It was quiet inside when we first entered but that changed rapidly. We were standing in the entryway hanging up our coats on the pegs when two little squealing voices made me jump.
"Grandpa! Grandpa!"
Two young boys raced past us in striped footed pajamas, without so much as a glance in our direction. I followed them. The elder looked about six, with dark curly hair and big dark eyes. The youngest was maybe four with lighter spiky hair and dimples. They were beautiful.
They raced to the living room and jumped at the couch, onto my father’s lap.
"Dad!" I called, my voice shaking with tears.
He didn’t look at me. He was just how I remembered him, only older. His face was lined and his light brown hair was streaked with sliver. He smiled and laughed lovingly at the little boys as they climbed all over him. His kind eyes sparkled at the grandchildren he obviously adored. My heart clenched painfully.
"Oh, you boys! You’re so big! What have you parents been feeding you?"
The little boys laughed. "Rocks!" the older one yelled.
"I believe it," Dad said.
The little one piped up. "Mommy doesn’t feed me rocks. She makes me grilled cheese. But she also makes me eat peas. I hate peas! Daddy taught me how to hide them under my plate when she’s not looking."
I laughed, and then socked Vincent in the arm. "Don’t teach our kids things like that."
"Okay, okay," he said laughing. "I didn’t anyway. It’s just a fantasy."
"They can’t see or hear us?" I asked.
Vincent just shook his head. I nodded, understanding, and sat on the couch next to the little scene. Vincent stood off, leaning against the wall, letting me enjoy myself. I reached out to touch the hair of the oldest boy, not knowing what would happen. I could feel his soft curls under my fingertips. He made no sign that he felt a thing. The boys begged my dad to read them a story. The eldest sat on his left and the little one sat on his lap. I moved closer to my father and laid my head on his shoulder. I listened to the story he read. The littlest boy turned the pages and the oldest made sound effects. It was a pleasant torture.
Vincent let me linger as long as I wanted. It must have been hours. I watched my father give the boys milk and cookies and put them to bed. He stuffed their stockings and pulled out all the wrapped presents from a hall closet, and pilled them under the tree. Then he turned off all the lights and lay down on the couch.
The living room was shimmering peacefully in the light of the tree and the glow of the dying fire. I sat on the floor next to my father, dozing on the couch, resting my head on his arm. Vincent never disturbed me. He waited patiently.
Finally, I got up off the floor and folded myself into Vincent’s chest. I was ready to leave. We put our coats
on and left the little log cabin. When we reached the footbridge, I turned and looked back.
"Thank you," I whispered. "Merry Christmas."
He smiled. "Happy Birthday."
I was painfully strung out in the morning. Vincent refused to let me dream for two nights in a row after that, and the third night we lolled around in the warm grass, under our blue aspen. I ended up dozing in my dream, which was weird. I felt mostly myself the morning after that.
Everything bad in my life had vanished from my mind. The past didn’t exist for me anymore. My life with Vincent was all I knew. All I wanted to know. Nevertheless, our time was slipping away too quickly. I couldn’t forget that Uncle Jack would soon be home. Things would have to be explained to him very carefully. I decided if Uncle Jack did not accept us, I would leave. But that had to be avoided at all costs. I was still a minor and I knew that if I ran, the police would hunt us. Uncle Jack would act "in my best interest", and he would try to have Vincent locked up. I had to convince him. I didn’t want to have to choose between Vincent and Uncle Jack.
