“I promise, Drew,” I whispered, not caring that Mitch and Bonnie were there, listening to me. They were my family and loved me, I could be myself with them.
But that didn’t mean I was going to share anything about Jimmy. Drew’s mother, on the other hand, wasn’t off-limits.
“If that’s true,” he said, “Then tell me about your dream.”
“We were having tea, the three of us,” I said softly, remembering. “I’m sure it was because you told me earlier that night how much she enjoyed a good tea party. And she told you she’d always be here for you, she was just tired of living her life as a shell.”
“As a shell of the woman she used to be,” he said.
I nodded, staring deep into his eyes. “Yes.”
“What was she wearing, Roz?” He asked, his eyes filling with tears.
“A green and yellow dress. And she had on a big green hat with a peacock feather sticking out of it.”
He gulped and blinked several times.
“Who did she tell me to settle down with, Roz?” He asked.
I swallowed nervously and realized what was happening.
“A nice young man,” I whispered.
He stared at me in shock.
“How is this possible?” He asked.
The sting of tears burned my eyes as I shrugged and whispered, “I don’t know.”
“Wait, what’s happening?” Mitch asked. “Did you-? Did you both have the same dream?”
Staring at the man who had become my big brother, I nodded.
Bonnie let out a soft cry of exclamation.
“She came to tell you goodbye, Drew,” she said quietly, “But she visited you both so you would have affirmation! She didn’t want you to think it was just a dream,” she continued, as she rose from her chair and knelt down before the young man who’d just lost his mother. “She allowed Roz into the dream so you could be sure that it was a goodbye, and not your head making up stories during your sleep.”
“That is so cool,” Mitch said softly, “I don’t believe in all that spirit jargon, but if you both had the same dream, what else could it be?”
Bonnie hugged Drew as he cried into her arms.
“Indeed,” she said. “What else could it possibly be?”
CHAPTER 42
Drew stayed the weekend with us. It was really nice having him around, joking and laughing and carrying on together. It made me wish that Amelia was still here, with her silent, happy presence and wise, caring ways.
Although everyone in the house was amazed that Drew and I had shared the same dream of his mother, no one brought it up ever again. It was as if the household had acknowledged that it had been a very special gift sent from mother to son, one final moment together, and to speak of it out loud would be disrespecting it some way.
Regardless of what everyone else thought, it bonded me and Drew forever. I knew without a doubt now, he was my brother in every sense of the word, except for blood. And blood was the least of things that mattered when it came to family.
By the time Monday morning came rolling around, I was ready.
Don’t ask me what I was ready for, exactly. I just felt like, whatever was coming my way, be it Parker, or evil, or danger, or some other kind of scary crap, I was ready for it.
In the end, the only thing that came for me on Monday was what felt like a sinus infection and a case of the chills, followed by a fever. Followed by more chills. And body aches.
I was sent home from school during second period. My teacher took one look at me when I walked into the class and demanded I go to the nurse’s office. She took my temperature, and from there, phone calls were made.
“Hello, Mrs. Walters? This is Candace at Marion High, I’m the school nurse. I have Rosalind here in the office…”
I quit paying attention. My head felt like it was going to explode.
Within ten minutes Bonnie was there, guiding me gently out to her VW where she’d parked in the fire lane directly in front of the school building.
“You’ll get a parking ticket, doing that,” I teased.
“Worth it to get my sick girl home quickly!” She replied.
Once at home, she took my temperature for herself, and frowned.
“It’s a hundred-and-one,” she announced. “I’m giving you some aspirin and orange juice.”
I nodded from my bed, not really caring.
I drifted off to sleep, only waking long enough to swallow whatever pills she handed me and drink whatever liquid she offered.
“Thanks,” I said softly, feeling a sudden twinge in my throat.
“You sound raspy,” she said worriedly. “Does your throat hurt?”
“It’s starting to,” I admitted.
“I’m bringing you a popsicle,” she decided.
I fell back to sleep.
Moments later, I felt a nudge on my shoulder.
“Eat this,” she said, “It’ll make your throat feel better.”
I nodded and reached for the lime green popsicle, then fell back to sleep before I could even take one bite.
And so it went all day, with Bonnie trying to put food into my body and me trying to sleep.
At one point, I was coherent long enough to notice my phone had buzzed.
Odie: Where are you? Justin Freely said you went home sick during 2nd period.
I frowned, then remembered. Justin was a boy in a few of my classes. Was he in my second period? I didn’t know. Or care.
Me: Sick. Sleepy. Later.
Odie: The P’s are worried. Said it could be Parker making you sick, like ordering your body to do this.
Me: Didn’t see him at all this morning. Just sick. Sleep now. Bye.
And I fell asleep once again, as my phone continued to buzz within my hand.
***
I was in and out of it all day. I’d never felt so completely miserable in my entire life.
Bonnie kept checking in on me, concern all over her face. She said my temperature wasn’t getting worse, which was good, but it wasn’t going down either.
“If you’re not better by morning, I’m taking you to the doctor,” she said with a quick kiss to my forehead.
I still didn’t care. My body, and now my throat, hurt way too much to care about anything.
Mitch came home from work, and brought me a stack of his old, beloved VHS tapes. He offered to open my window, to let in some fresh air.
I have no idea what I said to him. The next thing I knew, Sunset Boulevard was playing on the old TV set on my dresser, and my window was letting in a nice, refreshing breeze that felt great against my burning hot skin.
I continued to drift in and out of consciousness. I have no idea what time it was or what day it was, for that matter. My throat was on fire, my body temperature seemed to rise suddenly, and I had a sinking feeling that I was terribly, horribly sick. More than just a cold, but sick.
I could hear Mitch and Bonnie talking just outside my bedroom door after checking on me once again, and phrases like, “Scarlet fever,” “Measles,” and “Strep throat,” were said. I hated the fear in Bonnie’s voice, knowing I was the cause of it.
I’m pretty sure I began to hallucinate after that.
When I opened my eyes, Parker was entering my room through the window, and then he was beside me, kneeling next to my bed.
He stroked my hair lovingly, brushing it away from my burning face, and brought his lips close to my ear.
“You will sleep now, Rosalind,” he whispered, “You will not dream. You will not awaken. You will sleep and your body will return to the health it knew before you got sick.”
I opened my eyes again and tried to focus them on his face, but he was blurry and I couldn’t be sure if he really was there, or if I was imagining it.
“In the morning, you will be one hundred percent well.”
“Park… Parker,” I tried to say, but my throat was killing me and I knew something very serious was wrong with my body.
“Shh,�
� he whispered. “I need you in good health, Rosalind. You’re no use to me, sick.” His eyes looked me up and down as I lay prone on the bed. “Obey your master, darling, and when you wake up, you’ll forget I was here.”
With his words, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
***
I awoke the next morning to birds chirping, sunshine gleaming, about a hundred missed texts from Odie, and not a single ache in my entire body.
My fever was gone and I felt fantastic- Drained, and a little bit weak, but fantastic nonetheless.
Bonnie entered my room within minutes after I woke up.
“Oh you look so much better!” She said, relief all over her face.
I nodded. “I feel perfectly fine,” I said, “It must’ve been a twenty-four hour thing.”
She put her hand on my forehead.
“Cool as a cucumber!” She exclaimed happily.
I smiled at her.
“I still think you should stay home today,” she suggested, “Just so you don’t overdo it. Rest up, keep feeling better, and then tomorrow you can go back to school.”
I nodded, happy to acquiesce. A free day to kick back, relax, watch old movies, and have a bowl of ice cream was exactly what the doctor had ordered. Did I feel totally better? Yes. Should I be getting ready for school right now? Probably.
But I wasn’t going to pass up a free day off of school, no matter how good I felt.
***
Bonnie waited on me hand and foot all day long, and although I felt guilty for it, I have to admit, it was pretty amazing.
I had been sick once with the flu, when I was younger. I was only eight or nine, and I had vomited all over the carpet in the hallway as I’d tried to make it to the bathroom in time. Jill had made me clean it up, which had made me feel even more nauseous. When she saw me dry heaving as I tried to scrub the vomit out of the carpet, she warned me:
“Next time you puke on the floor, you’ll lick it clean.”
I couldn’t imagine Bonnie ever saying that to me. She was sweet and caring. She brought me soup, water, tea, made me an iced coffee, brought in more VHS tapes from Mitch’s collection, and even brought me a gift.
“What are you doing?” I asked her incredulously, “I’m all better, Bonnie! I don’t need a gift!”
“Actually, I got this for you a week ago,” she said, “Just open it already and tell me how much you love it so I can stop worrying about it.”
I laughed and accepted the box from her. It was large and white, with a purple bow tied around it.
I released the bow and slowly opened the lid, savoring this unexpected moment. What I saw inside was definitely that.
Unexpected.
“I know it’s not your style,” she said slowly, “But I thought it’d be nice to wear for the Art Fling. You know, maybe change up your style a little bit, for the art exhibit? Just this once?”
Inside the box was a beautiful dress, made of some soft, flimsy fabric and of a beautiful nude-pink color. It was so pale, so soft, and so ultimately feminine. I lifted it, speechless, from the box and inspected it.
It had short, capped sleeves that ruffled slightly, and a belt that tied in front. It wasn’t long, but it wasn’t too short, either. It looked like it would end right above my knee.
Oddly, it looked very similar to what I had been wearing in my dream of Jimmy by the pond.
“Bonnie,” I breathed, “Thank you.”
She was right, it was not my style, but it was gorgeous and I found myself anxious to try it on.
“So…” she said hesitantly, “You like it?”
“I’m trying it on right now!” I exclaimed, and ran into my bathroom as she let out a sigh of relief.
I looked beautiful. For the first time in my life, wearing that amazing dress, I even felt beautiful. I exited the bathroom to let her see it.
“Oh Rosalind,” she said, “You’re a vision.”
I grinned.
“Your Chucks aren’t going to match it,” she said and pointed next to the spot where she sat on my bed.
A pair of heeled sandals sat, in a shade slightly darker than the dress.
“I’ll fall down in those!” I exclaimed worriedly.
“Then it’s a good thing we have a few days to practice!” She grinned.
CHAPTER 43
The rest of the week passed in a blur. I was so busy getting all my pieces together and categorized for the exhibit, I never paid any attention to Parker.
The day I went back to school, he’d simply said, “Glad you’re feeling better, Roz,” and kept walking by.
I shrugged it off. What did he care? The guy wanted me dead anyway.
Well, he didn’t want my body dead, but he wanted to kill off all the things that made me, me.
It was basically the same thing, in my book. After all, a person wasn’t what they were on the outside. A person was who they were on the inside. Their character, their life experiences, their passion, their dreams, their goals, and their ability to love… those are the things that made a person.
Not the outer shell.
Not the color of their eyes.
Not the shape of their bodies.
Nothing on the outside is what truly mattered, in the long run.
On Friday, Mitch helped me bring in the stone slab I had worked on before school. Mr. Harken declared it a masterpiece and allowed me to lock it away in the teachers’ lounge, hidden beneath my old tarp where the students wouldn’t see it.
I had to admit, it was pretty impressive.
Mr. Harken had me type up a small description, or explanation for the piece, which would be displayed at the bottom of the slab during the Art Fling. Considering how personal the piece was for me, finding the words to convey something like that was difficult, but I managed it in one sentence:
Saying goodbye to my former self.
I didn’t care if it was cryptic, my gut told me it would suffice.
***
After what seemed like a century (but was really only a few weeks), I was finally ready.
All my pieces were priced and set up in the cafeteria, along with a handful of other students’ art work. The lights were dimmed except for the portable ones brought in to showcase the displays, and appetizers sat eagerly awaiting hungry eaters upon a side table. Mr. Harken was dressed in a handsome suit and tie, which I’d never seen on him before, and he looked almost as nervous as the rest of us.
I wore the beautiful dress Bonnie had given me, even the shoes, and I worried for several moments before the doors opened that I would throw up. Odie, who had volunteered to be my assistant, wore a striking dress of a deep plum that made her eyes stand out hypnotically, and paired it with her black Docs. Looking at our reflections in the windows, I would have said we made a striking pair.
But I never got the chance to say it, I was only able to offer her a weakly confident grin, because the doors were opened and in came the people. Parents, teachers, and staff waltzed in while classical music played softly in the background. Mr. Harken handed each person a brochure and price list which he had printed upon thick, black cardstock with white lettering. Volunteers manned the refreshments and handed out flutes of sparkling cider. Everyone appeared to be dressed in their best.
It was such an elegant occasion, I was immediately thankful Bonnie had the foresight of getting me something so chic to wear for it. I no longer had the inclination to hide myself, and I knew my Chucks and hoodie wouldn’t have quite fit in with this evening.
As the people entered, a few made their way to my display. On the black cloth-covered table before me, sat smaller pieces I had created over the past few months. The portrait of Amelia, which had a Not For Sale sign on it, was included. Bonnie had yet to see it, and I was going to give it to her once she did.
On the temporary wall behind me, stood my stone slab. People came and stood around me, some shaking my hand, some asking if I was the artist, some just staring at the piece.
The stone was sit
uated upright, with the narrow side at the top. I had painted a tombstone on it, and in the center, the words:
Rosalind Ines Pastrano
R.I.P.
On the stone surrounding the tombstone, I had painted all the memories of my past life. In the top right corner, were a bottle of pills, a spoon, and a syringe circling a small portrait of my mother. In the top left corner, I had painted the face of my sister, Angelina, beside an old, creaky-looking set of stairs. I had wanted to paint her as I knew her to be now, but had instead re-created the old picture of her which sat on my computer desk at home. I didn’t want to have to explain who she was or why I knew what she looked like as an adult, when she’d died so young.
On the bottom right corner, I had painted my old, holey pair of Chucks. I suppose it was silly to include them in with something as dark as my mother’s drug addiction and my older sister’s murder, but they were a representation of my old, worn-out life, and I knew they belonged here.
On the bottom left corner, I painted one thing that had nothing whatsoever to do with my old life. A butterfly. It was done in shades of blue, pink, and purple, and it was the symbol of me growing my wings and entering my new life, my new world, as a transformed creature.
Covering the empty spaces of the slab, I had painted old, dead vines with black roses, connecting each of the images.
The small card I had printed up as an explanation seemed to fit perfectly.
Bonnie and Mitch strolled up just as one of the school staff questioned Odie about a small landscape I had done.
“Well done, Roz!” Mitch exclaimed when he saw my display. Bonnie stared silently at the portrait of Amelia with wet, watery eyes.
“This is for you,” I said softly, and handed it to her.
She hugged the framed portrait to her chest.
“I’ll treasure it always,” she said. Then leaned forward and embraced me.
“I’m glad you like it,” I said, smiling.
Rest in Peace Roz: The R.I.P. Series Book 1 Page 26
