When I woke this morning, I never would have seen Dale as being right. Even now that I am about to burst over my news, it is still hard to see. But the funny thing is that Dale called me about having this conversation regarding hope for a better life before I heard that Katherine wants to talk to me. Meaning, even though I have been a disaster lately, he has still been able to see who I am. Maybe that cheese from Jennifer wasn’t telling me what to do. Maybe it was passing on wisdom by showing me who I am. If Dale wants to be like me, he needs those words, too.
“Follow your heart,” I tell him.
Dale stares, waiting for more, and I just smile like a fool who has struck gold. “My heart?” he asks. “But I am talking about whether to take a job. A job is a paycheck. What does that have to do with my heart?”
For what may be the first time in my life, I feel profound. “Your heart accepts things logic ignores. Did you ever stop to think my not being tied up with thoughts of the almighty dollar is what keeps me feeling free? Sure, we all need money, but once the bills are paid and the food is on the table, everything else is a luxury. Money buys the ability to travel to foreign lands, yet without it we are more likely to walk to the park and hear children laugh. Follow the sounds of your heart, the sounds no one else hears, and you will be like me.”
I don’t even bother to finish my drink. I’m surprised I’ve been able to contain myself this long, yet I won’t leave before telling Dale the rest of what I feel. “Thank you for seeing what I am about and for reminding me of that fact as well. I always knew there was a reason why you and I were friends. For what it’s worth, I hope you stick around. I’d love to be there when you find the girl who tames the beast. He doesn’t need as much coaxing as everyone thinks.”
Dale grabs my arm as I start to head off. “Hold up, buddy.” His eyes lock into mine and narrow. After an audible exhale, he sets his elbow on the table, cupping his chin in his hand. I’ve never seen him look perplexed before. Finally, he nods. “Yeah, I’m staying.”
“Just like that? You’re going to let everything you worked for go?”
“Yep, just like that. Something tells me if I keep chasing rainbows, I am going to lose. Instead, for some crazy reason, I’m staying here with a wack job friend.” He looks to his drink and shakes his head while waving me off. “It pains me to admit I need you to keep me in check. God help me.”
Imagine, Dale following his heart. Something tells me it is going to pay off. It must have for me because when I step out of the booth, my feet feel as if they are floating on air.
Crazy World
It has been less than an hour since I got off of the phone with Bailey, yet I can’t stop pacing a hole in my bedroom carpet. My head won’t stop racing, which is probably why it seems like the clock can’t catch up to where I think its hands should be. Why hasn’t he called? This is unreal. It can’t be the same guy.
Maybe he doesn’t think this is important. Maybe he is angry with me. Hell, I would be. I was such an ass.
I need to get a grip.
My phone rings, and I dive onto the bed to grab it. I try to force out the most normal-sounding hello I can muster for fear I will come off as more of a loon than I already have.
“Hi, Katherine?” The guy sounds like he is freaked and trying not to show it. “This is Brandon. Bailey’s sister asked me to call and—”
I don’t mean to cut him off, but not only am I eager to get this conversation underway, it’s not fair to make him wait for an apology any longer than he has. “Thank you for calling. I feel horrible about what happened. I’m not even sure how to explain, except I was under a lot of stress and wasn’t thinking clearly. I am also embarrassed that you are not the only one I misjudged at that moment. I hope you will accept my apology.”
His words jump in, and I finally feel like I am able to unclench from the stupidity of what I did. “It is fine. Really. We all have moments when we get blindsided. It is kind of amazing that you were able to find me.”
Good, he is willing to talk. Coincidences won’t stop nagging at me, and I’ve no idea how to approach them. “I have you to thank for that. When I called to see how Bailey’s first day at work went, and she mentioned thinking she needed to get her stomach pumped because the candy there is so bad, things started coming together.”
He snickers. “Man, it’s about time that garbage was good for something.”
I chuckle both out of amusement and relief he has given me another chance to take this conversation further. “If it’s that bad, how do you stay in business?”
“I’d like to think it has something to do with,” he clears his throat, “brilliant marketing.”
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling while trying to relax. He does seem like the nice guy I thought he was. “Ah, yes. You did comment that you were a marketing guy. Does that mean you sit at a drawing board all day? I’m envisioning you scratching your head, crumbling your latest masterpiece, and then tossing it on top of piles of other discarded ideas.”
“I wish I were that prolific. What it means is I push gumdrops into lame pictures while hoping to get an idea that doesn’t suck.”
“It kind of sounds like you are a toddler making macaroni art.” Suddenly, I clue in to the new puzzle piece he has given me. “That’s why you mentioned Facebook! You’re the guy on my fan page with the Bat Signal made of gumdrops! Once I saw your last name is Wayne, I thought it was pretty funny.” Brandon tries to mute a gasp. I’ve probably embarrassed him. My brain starts putting the pieces together. He’s the one whose words got me to push aside my fears and give a strong performance. He also commented again later that day. All that talk about dreams was a reminder of what he said. Thank God! I was starting to get some crazy thoughts about why those things sounded familiar.
Yeah, but they sounded familiar then too. That is only the tip of what has me weirded out. Why do I think I know this guy? The stuff he said reminded me of the film script, yet he wasn’t on set, nor is he listed anywhere in the crew notes. Maybe he knows the writer. “Hey, I need to thank you. You said some stuff on Facebook that gave me a boost right when I needed it. It was almost like you could read my mind.”
“Really?” He sounds excited, and I am not sure if he is having a moment of fandom, or if he is catching what I am getting at. I have to stand and pace because all this is making my nerves jitter.
“Yeah, in fact, you seem familiar. Have we met before?”
“Umm … Not that I know of.”
I swear there is something going on here. I feel stupid for not cluing in. “It’s just all that dream stuff sounded familiar. Did you get it from somewhere?”
His chuckle is a nervous one. It also sounds hopeful. I thought I was leading the cat and mouse game. Now I am not so sure. “Maybe, you know how sometimes a little voice in your head says something? Sorry, that sounded weird.”
Is he saying what I think he is? This conversation is making my skin break out in bumps, but I can’t let him know that. “No … not so weird at all.” I sound like I am a mess. I pretty much am.
“It’s just— You don’t always need words to catch on to what a person is thinking. I once knew someone who was a firm believer that a person’s energy leaves a fingerprint for others to pick up on. Maybe that is all it is. I’ve heard stranger things.”
Again, he is talking in puzzle pieces. However, I do get how someone’s energy can convey his emotions, even if he is trying to hide them. Actors use that trick all the time in order to sell a scene, but it doesn’t change how what I am about to say scares the living hell out of me. “So, it is sort of like you could hear my thoughts as if I were talking to you?”
I bite down on my nail and wait. Since I stepped back to see all the places I have been screwing up, that cab ride has haunted me in many ways. “Yeah,” Brandon says, sounding as nervous as I do. “You can definitely say that.”
His emphasis makes my skin feel raw. Some of my findings have been simple explanations while others have b
een a bit of a stretch to accept. That emphasis is telling me something though, and I need to either face my fears or run.
Why do I fear what I hoped would happen? I may be on the verge of uncovering a miracle.
There are many ways to phrase my next question, but I won’t allow myself to word it so it is easy to dodge. Logic yells at me to keep silent, but I brave words that seem innocent yet carry worlds of weight. “Brandon, how did you know about Saleena?”
A pause of discomfort creeps through the line, putting my nerves further on edge. He probably fears that if he tells me the truth, I will think he is crazy. He deserves help with this because if my suspicions are correct, this poor man has already been through enough. My words come out slowly and well calculated. “When I was in LA and you were making those posts, I had a dream where someone called me Saleena. Since then, I’ve had a song stuck in my head that I can’t place.”
He doesn’t have to get much out before my nerves turn to ice. “The road to success is dark, but flames of my desire will light the path. Are you the one who dares to stand in my way? You may get destroyed, or I just might be saved.”
My breath hitches, and every part of me quakes. Brandon waits for my reaction, but he has freaked the crap out of me so much I have to place the phone down, close my eyes, and remind myself that I am safe. I put the puzzle together last night, and as much as logic told me I had to be wrong, I couldn’t hide from knowing there was truth hidden somewhere. I lie down to prepare myself. My words barely make it out as I brave the question I am pretty sure I know the answer to. “Ha-Ha-How … How did you know what to say about dreams in a way that would stick with me?”
Tension comes through the line as Brandon forces out the words, “Because I heard your thoughts.” My body jerks, sending me upright and frozen. He sounds as freaked as I feel when he says, “One time you said, ‘If I could somehow find a way to let you know I am thinking of you, maybe … maybe someday our paths will cross and we will find each other.’ It seems to have worked.”
I want to run; yet I need to know more.
“Katherine? Are you okay?”
It takes a few swallows to get the dryness out of my mouth before I can speak. “Yes, please keep going.”
His words sound methodic, as if he has experienced the panic I feel and wants to help me hold it together. “I kept hearing a voice as if it were addressing me but didn’t know my name. Eventually I matched the voice to you. I swear to God I thought I was losing it.” He pauses, and I am grateful he has given my mind a chance to catch up to my sprinting heart. However, it also feels like a warning for the shock to come. “Then I started getting visions. You walked into the bathroom and looked in a mirror. Since you didn’t have make-up on, things made less sense than before. I was so freaked out. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I almost checked myself into a mental hospital. I was actually on my way to do it, and I ran into someone who— Man, that part of the story is a tale all its own. Katherine, just … Please tell me you are okay.”
I look down at my white knuckles and feel the tension deep in my gut. I swear every muscle in my body is cramping. “Oh, I am pretty freaked out,” shudders out of me. “Thing is … What I can’t believe right now is that I believe you.”
“Oh, thank God.” The relief in his voice is so heavy I almost feel touched by it. “Katherine, who were you talking to? Do you have any idea why I was able to hear you?”
I sit back and brace myself for what I consider to be the strangest part of all of this. My words were aimed at one person—one very specific person. “I was talking to my soul mate. As crazy as it sounds, I think fantasy crossed over into reality.”
“Katherine, nothing sounds crazy to me anymore.”
The relief that fills me is a true gift from heaven. For weeks my mind has bounced back and forth between accepting what I felt was real and fearing for my future. Now I know every moment of the last few weeks was based in reality, and I could not be more grateful.
Katherine and I stay on the phone for hours, each sharing our sides of the story. Every time I think I have told her everything more details come to mind. The conversation has a magic all its own, but then another wonderful thing happens—we start talking about other subjects. It starts with music and moves on to morals, thoughts on the meaning of life, and the dreams we have for our futures—dreams that either match or complement each other. Eventually I come to feel as if I have bared my soul to her. We end the call with a promise I will fly out for the weekend with no plans other than for the two of us to try to gain deeper understanding of where we have been, both in our recent experiences and in a past we have only had flashes of.
When I watch Katherine’s phone number fade as the call disconnects, emotions swirl through me in such a flurry it is hard to appreciate every single one. My God, could anything be more wondrous? My heart feels as if all of the good in the universe has flooded in. Now I am so grateful that I let myself explore what I could not understand. If I had fought my feelings and suspicions, if I had surrendered to what most people would think was happening, I would have missed out on the power of something incredible.
In the past few weeks the whole universe has opened before me and let its secrets escape—our bodies are limited to the now, souls transcend time, we can meet each other time and again, and most amazing of all, just because our souls get confined to our bodies, it does not mean they can’t reach out in ways that boggle our minds. There was proof in that call, and soon that proof will be before me. Without a doubt, this journey has only begun.
Heaven
It is bewildering how different my circumstances are over the last time I was in this airport. Katherine and I have spent countless hours chatting on the phone, yet today will be the first time we are face-to-face without any secrets. Will our meeting hold a heart-stopping moment of bliss? Will it be like old friends reuniting? Should I shake her hand? Should I hug her? After all the conversations we have had, not to mention our crazy connection, a hug sounds safe. A nice, not too long, not too clingy, but impassioned hug.
That wouldn’t be weird, right? I don’t want to come off as creepy.
Shoot, when we spoke yesterday, she was nearly bursting over how she felt she was about to be reunited with a long lost love. Given that, a hug is definitely warranted.
Before entering the baggage claim I force myself to take a few deep breaths. For a moment I feel centered, yet my eyes dart all over in search of her. Will she look like her natural self, or will she look like Ms. Hollywood?
God, those speckled eyes. I hope I get to see her without her contacts. Does she have any idea how beautiful she is without all that makeup? I want to spend my night getting lost in those eyes I have dared to let myself think are reserved for me. If for some unimaginable reason I tire of that, I want to count those adorable freckles.
Katherine is nowhere in sight, but a dark-skinned woman holding a sign with my name grabs my attention. The lady tells me Katherine is detained at work. By the time she is free not only will we have missed our reservation, but also all of the nice restaurants will be closed. I may be willing to come all this way to take her to a drive-thru, but I hoped for something better—especially since I have to fly out tomorrow afternoon. There is no way my boss can keep covering for me. Since I barely have enough money to make it home, I also can’t afford to get canned.
No, I can do better than a drive-thru, and I will. I’m Batman, and if there is one thing Batman does, it is use his resources wisely.
I should have gotten candles. I had them in my hand.
Nah, I made the right decision. I want her to feel appreciated, not like I am trying to score. The flowers are more than enough, though I am not sure I got the right ones. Roses screamed ulterior motives. Carnations were too simple. The mixed bouquet felt manufactured—as if anyone could have them. Still, was buying three different bunches to make my own combination too much? This is the problem with getting to know someone over the phone. A woman can tell y
ou what she fancies, but that doesn’t let you see what puts sparks into her eyes. If this is the woman I am to spend my life with, I want to fill her eyes with light each and every day.
Thank God I thought to bring some of her favorite peanut butter. It makes this impromptu picnic seem less makeshift. It may not be the nice dinner I planned, but it is as romantic as our circumstances dictate it should be. I will not hesitate to let her see the real me. However, I have to question if a mellow hair band hit parade was the right selection. But if this is the music she loves, it is the music she will get.
The creak of the door causes my heart to race. A faint bit of light slips into the trailer before Katherine enters. Seeing her touches my heart as if she were an angel. Her tall boots, tight, black jeans, Jem and The Holograms Misfits T-shirt, and makeup that screams starlet remind me of how Saleena always looked like a punk fashion model. My being takes pause. Pieces that have long been scattered seem to come together, bringing the release of the tension my mind has held since before my life went to hell years ago. Merely being in the presence of this woman brings peace to my soul.
My clammy hands turn the knob of the trailer door, and I feel Brandon will hear my throbbing heart before I finish stepping inside. This must be what it is like for people who meet online and spend months exploring their emotions before meeting in person. Our situation is so much more complex though. If I believe what seems to be the logical explanation for what has happened, this is my soul mate. That just might be true, because how my breath locks at the sight of him makes me feel I have found a lost love. It’s hard to believe I feel such emotions when the last time I saw this guy, I was tossing him out of a taxi.
The tender sound of Warrant’s “Heaven” glides through the air, yet it is the unique bouquet that catches my attention. The flowers look handpicked and tell me someone wanted to give me something special, not a cliché.
Voices Carry: A Rock and Roll Fantasy (The Rock And Roll Fantasy Collection) Page 20
