Something To Dream On

by Rinella, Diane

  “Lizetta? Baby, you still with me?”

  I want to scream my yes for the world to hear, but it’s locked deep in my throat. Instead, I nod rapidly until my voice finally cooperates with my heart. “Yes! Yes, I will marry you!”

  Etta starts barking and jumping in excitement. She may not understand the fine details, but she’s well aware that something amazing just happened. I toss my arms around Jensen’s neck and smack my lips into his, which in turn sends him slipping down the side of the tub, crunching his neck. His glass gets knocked over, and the cold juice that splashes on to his leg makes him jerk and laugh.

  Jensen fakes going in for a kiss and instead twists his body so that I tumble into the tub with him. I scream like a delighted five-year-old on Christmas morning.

  His scruff tickles my cheeks, and kisses that would normally have me smiling, have me giggling. With a squeal, I kick and send splashes flying into the air and raining down on us. “Holy snapping turtles, we’re engaged! Wait, this is real, right? Please tell me this is real.”

  “Oh, it’s real. Hey, hon, I’m kind of going under here, not to mention my legs are cramping. Can we take this elsewhere?”

  “No!” I kiss him again, then get up and futilely dab myself with a towel before peeling off my clothes. He stands, and the water rushes off of him, reminding me of a waterfall over a statue of hotness. He barely dabs off the water before he drags me into the bedroom and onto the bed, and then wraps me around him. “Will you ever forgive me for proposing in the bathroom?”

  “You forgot the part about being naked and just having invited me to have sex with you.”

  His hold on me tightens, and he nuzzles his cheek to my ear. “You make it sound so dirty.”

  “Tell you what, you make it up to me with the size of the rock you put on my finger, and I'll leave that part of the story out when I tell it to our children.”

  “Hmm … Children with you. I want an angel of a girl with silky blonde hair and a dark-haired little brother to terrorize her.” It all purrs out of him, that is, until he jerks back. “Please tell me you don’t expect that to happen anytime soon.”

  “And ruin this perfect figure? Are you kidding?”

  His seductive purr returns. “I love you and your perfect figure.”

  I savor the peace of the moment. Things like this happen to other people and you hope, dream, and pray it will happen to you, but it often seems impossible. Yet here I am, lying in his arms. I want to pause time and hold this moment forever.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Thursday, July 20

  I'm engaged!

  I’m freaking engaged!

  I'm engaged to a man who adores me and loves hockey! He, Etta, and I are going to live happily ever after with a slew of kids, and cats, and God knows what else. We are totally saving money and buying a farm!

  The glistening of the engagement ring that Dad gave to Mom keeps catching my eye. “This family has a gift for taking the bad and making it good,” Mom told us. “The harder we fall, the higher it gets us to climb. Take this as a reminder to keep climbing. You can keep it and save the ring money for your future, or you can sell it and use the money anyway you want. Just keep climbing.”

  Sell a one-carat, Marquise cut diamond for half of what it is worth so we can buy something a fraction of the size? No way! I’ve had my eye on this baby since I was a little girl. It’s mine now!

  My feet race all over the pavement. With how much I have been shopping, and packing, and carrying boxes around, I’m surprised by how little I notice their ache. Just a few more days until I move in with Jensen! Saturday can’t come fast enough!

  Like a flash, I dodge through the lunch-hour madness of suited business people and nearly run down the street. I know exactly the dress I want and where to get it. I’ve marked a huge part of my budget for it, but it is going to be so worth it! Between my savings and the check Mom and Paul gave us, we are going to have the best wedding ever. I’m getting the dress of my dreams! Jensen is the man of my dreams! This is amazing!

  With the last sip of my special treat, a hazelnut mocha, I slam dunk the cup into a trash bin and resume humming a tune that Jensen’s been working on. The boutique is just a block farther, and although they don’t open for another fifteen minutes, my pace grows faster. I called in sick today because I couldn’t wait any longer. The dress in the magazine is perfect! A plunging neckline to show off my killer boobs, and it is just form-fitting enough to make these curves sing. A girl’s gotta work what God gave her! And oh! All that beaded, French lace!

  My heart thunders with excitement. I’m so wired on life that I should have skipped the caffeine.

  “Stop!” someone yells. “Stop! Lady you need to—”

  Something crashes on to the concrete. Pieces of it fly up and into my face. The pain that shoots through my forehead sends me propelling backward. Another dose of agony gets me from behind as my head smacks to the ground. Gray haze coats my vision, and then my world fades to black.

  Larry strolls into my room with no regard for the shut door. A bunch of twenties, some heroin, blow, and a bag of weed hit the bed. Whatever he wants, it’s gonna suck for me. I haven’t gotten heroin handed to me without a fight in weeks.

  “What’s this for?”

  “Good news! Your boyfriend’s about to come back.” Larry strolls out like he hasn’t a care in the world. “I heard it through the grapevine that Jensen’s girly is in the hospital and gearing up to die. Go do what ya gotta do to comfort him.”

  The door clicks shut, and I’m left staring at my ammunition, awestruck.

  Oh, thank you, God! Thank you, for my second chance.

  The only limits our heart knows are the ones we give it.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Thursday, July 20

  I used to be afraid of the dark, but this black, this absolute void of all, brings about a sense of peace. A white light cuts through the darkness and enrobes me. My heart tells me that the melody that plays is the song of angels. Am I dead? If I no longer have a body, how do I feel the physical comfort of lying in a tub of warm water with whirlpool jets massaging my muscles into bliss?

  No! I can’t get comfortable!

  I’m not ready to leave Earth. Jensen and I are getting married!

  The light pulls me upward. Questions spiral in my brain. Will I go to heaven? Are the pearly gates actually made out of pearl? Will I wait in a line to spin a giant wheel that decides my fate? Maybe there's a test. If there is a test, I am so hosed!

  I thought you either went up or down. I’m being pulled up and back. Going up is good, but going back? God, please help!

  Is it dumb to ask for help if you are already dead?

  The force grows stronger until it spins me around and plops me back into darkness. Silver light slips in, bringing life to a world of fluffy clouds. My feet stand on a flat surface, and there are walls. Is this a glass room above Earth?

  Before me is a desk that is made of pearly wood. On it is a silver keyboard and a huge monitor, along with a stress ball shaped like the devil and an Oakland A's bobblehead. At least whomever I’m about to meet is a homie.

  Silently, a woman seated in a silver chair, pops in behind the desk. My heart jumps and I gasp, causing me to giggle with embarrassment.

  The woman twists back and forth while tapping a pencil into her palm. She acts as if she has been here the entire time.

  “Miss Lansing?” She stands and extends a chocolate-toned hand that looks so buffed and polished that it almost dazzles. She’s intimidatingly tall—like the guys on Supernatural-type tall—and her grip is strong enough to make sure I know that she’s the one in charge. She’s also got the coolest, swirly purple and pink beads in her braids. “I’m Alvara. Welcome to the gateway. Won’t you have a seat?”

  She motions behind me, and a silver toadstool appears. Am I in Wonderland? That seat is ridiculously small. Oh my God! Maybe I’m—

  My eyes flash downward. My body is the same as when
I woke this morning. Fish paste! I thought life on the other side would be different. I take a seat. The stool turns fluid and grows to conform to my tush and back. Crazy cool!

  Wait. “The gateway? I can’t be dead! Not now! I'm at least about to enter heaven, right?”

  Alvara’s eyes are locked on the monitor as she types with the efficiency of a secretary on Mad Men. “Think of this as where we review your files to verify that you qualify for the next round.”

  Next round? What the hell? Whoops! I don’t swear. I never swear! Why did I do it here of all places? Did I just doom myself? Oh no! Lord, please don't let me be butterscotched before I even get started.

  “Relax,” she assures. “You are not butterscotched, as you so eloquently put it. If you were, you would have gone straight down. Now, let's see what we have here.” She looks at the screen while letting out the occasional “umm hmm” and raising an eyebrow. I claw my nails into my arm and scratch. How can I itch when I have no true body? My actual body is waiting to be reunited with Jensen while what I have here is a ghostly shell. But I shook hands with the gatekeeper. Man, death is confusing!

  “You've done a lot of wonderful work with animals. Your compassion has been exemplary. I see no reason not to move you on to the interview.”

  Interview? That means going further into the process. “No! I’m engaged! This can't happen now!”

  “Relax, Miss Lansing. I assure you that soon you will be at peace with the situation.”

  Alvara resumes her typing while I scan the room. There are no doors, no windows—nothing but glass inside clouds. Impossible. If there is a way in, there is a way out. I just have to find the key.

  That’s it! The Return key, just like in that TV show, Drop Dead Diva. She pressed Return, went back to Earth, and landed in a different body! My dream doesn’t mean I’m being replaced. I’m coming back in a different body and escaping my old issues!

  I bounce up and reach for the keyboard, only to get my hand slapped. Alvara’s eyes flare in warning, and she stares me back down into my seat. I am definitely on to something, but now she knows that I am aware of the Return key trick. “Miss Lansing, there is no escape from fate.”

  That’s it! I’ll reach to the other side and hit Escape! That can’t be much different.

  I smack the key. Alvara’s “No!” screams through the air. A boom rings out, followed by a golden flash. Darkness sucks me in and drags me through a rollercoaster of motions—flying up, plummeting down, corkscrewing around. I tense in fear of this ending in a painful crash. Oh God. What have I done?

  My reflexes have me screaming as the painless impact bounces my butt into a cool sea of tan. Have I made it? Is this one of the patches in the painting?

  No, this is tile, not sand or dry grass.

  “Code red, room five three three,” a woman’s voice blares above me. “Code red, five three three.”

  What the—

  A defibrillator cart zooms past as orderlies and nurses race down the hall. A few feet away, Griffin stands with his hand on Mom’s back, looking helpless as she cries onto Paul’s shoulder. Jimmy’s head hangs low as he exits a room.

  “Mom! Paul!” I run to them. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Mom!” I tap her shoulder, but my finger doesn’t hit anything.

  No! This can’t be!

  Heavy sobs come from the room Jimmy just left—sobs that send me racing to find Jensen kneeling next to a bed. I try to throw my arms around him, but they whip right through, leaving them tingling. “Jensen. Honey, I'm here. Talk to me. Please.”

  “He can't hear you,” a baritone voice, laced with the tone of compassion, says. Behind us stands a young man in a black suit and white shirt with an open collar. His orange hair is so vivid that it’s practically psychedelic. His eyes are deep blue while his skin is pale as snow. Except for his sculpted features, he reminds me of a statue of a clown in a drive-thru.

  “What?”

  “He can't hear you. You're not here to him.”

  “Yes, I am!” My arms flail.

  “Are you trying to signal a passing ship?” Oh, this guy is not only odd looking, he’s witty—or so he thinks! “Your soul may be here, but your body isn't.” He points just beyond me. “Your body is there.”

  I whip around, and an unforgiving wave of nausea sweeps through my stomach and up my throat. Time and again I’ve nursed injured animals, but never have I seen a sight this disturbing. Lying under the rows of bandages and tangles of tubes is my body. That face, that figure that I have such a volatile relationship with, that golden hair that is my personal pride and joy—it all seems so impossible, yet my heart breaks in knowing that it is my body that lies under the attack of tubes and wires. We expect to see those in movies and nightmares, not in ourselves.

  My heart weakens further when I absorb Jensen’s pain—watching him resting on his knees and releasing the tears I fight back. I drop to his side with my soul sinking at his suffering. Even if I can’t comfort him, that doesn’t mean I can’t give him all the love I have. Somehow, love always comes through, doesn’t it?

  A wave of grief washes over me at the thought of losing Jensen, of never seeing my family again, and of never getting another kiss from Etta. Tears threaten to flow as my throat closes in, but I hold them back. I will not collapse. My broken body may be before me, yet somehow I am still here. Clearly I am meant to fight, which means the tears have to wait for another day.

  “Please, someone tell me that this is a dream,” Jensen begs.

  “What happened?” I ask the man behind us. Is he the Grim Reaper?

  “My name is Harold, and you were obsessed with shopping for a dress.”

  “Why would that land me in the hospital?”

  “You failed to notice that you were walking under a piano.”

  “So?”

  “It was falling from twenty stories above.” He makes a dive-bombing noise while giving me a plummeting thumbs down.

  Oh, there is someone with a sick sense of humor around here. One person says that death is not like a TV show, and now Harold tells me I am in a cartoon. I notice a silver tail coming off of me and going into my disabled body. What is going on here?

  “If it were a cartoon, you would have a keyboard shaped head. This is real, and before you ask—no. No one is dreaming.”

  My stomach gets swishy. I don’t like that these people can hear my thoughts. Are they undead, too? Is this guy a Zombie Angel?

  I get an Oh, please! look. “No, I’m a run-of-the-mill angel, just like the ones who sing in Hark the Herald.” He waits for me to laugh. I don’t. “Herald and Harold, get it?” I stare. “Oh, come on!” He rolls his eyes at my lack of humor, and then gives up. “Things didn’t work out as orchestrated, but in our defense, our guys did warn that you were too far into the danger area.”

  “Nobody warned me!”

  He raises an index finger. “They yelled for you to stop. You were supposed to have a life-altering moment to lead you to … Never mind. It’s pointless now. Instead, you tuned us out, chowed it, and died. But then—”

  “But then I hit the Escape key and sent myself back the wrong way.”

  Harold leans back against the wall and examines his nails. “No. Then you pissed off the gatekeeper and insulted the Big Guy by rejecting Heaven. Thing is, just because you screwed up your destiny doesn’t mean you should screw up Jensen’s. He deserves peace, so you must still be involved in that.”

  “So, I am coming back!”

  “You know what I like about you? You believe in miracles.” Harold looks to my body in the bed and chuckles. “This isn’t one of those wacky TV shows on Lifetime. That silver tail coming off of your rump means you are tethered to that body. When it goes, so do you. Don’t think of this as your soul returning to Earth, think of it as Purgatory dropping by for tea. You and Jensen were brought into each other’s lives to fulfill destiny. That part hasn’t changed.”

  Harold fades, and I’m left kneeling next to Jensen as he sobs. “Hone
y, I’m here. I am not leaving you.” The defeat in not being able to throw my arms around him cripples my soul.

  Jimmy joins us on our knees. “You okay?” he asks Jensen.

  Jensen’s irritation sprouts through his sobs. “They say Lizetta can’t hear us, but I swear she’s with us now. It’s her who can’t be heard. It's crazy, I know.”

  “It's not crazy,” Jimmy says. “I didn’t feel that way before, but I do now.” Jimmy helps Jensen up, and the guys take seats beside my body. Griffin comes in and pulls up another chair, joining them in vigil. I lie down on the bed so that when Jensen grabs my shell’s hand, mine is right there with his.

  Don't worry, honey. I promise that I am coming back to you.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Friday, July 21

  Jensen sits with his mom, staring at my body in silent vigil. It’s so sweet that she has driven all this way to be with him for just a few hours. It is hard for her to get away from work, but she wants to be here for us all.

  Before Arlene arrived, my night was filled with watching Jensen twist in that chair while struggling with sleep. When he found it, he also found nightmares. Why was I so determined to come back when the only thing I can do is watch the people I love suffer? If I can get through to one person …

  They say the more open you are to things, the more likely you are to sense them. Griffin believes in psychic stuff. It’s certainly worth trekking over to work to see if he notices me.

  My hand passes through the handle of the door to Good Samaritan. Since forgetting that I can’t touch anything doesn’t make me feel like enough of an idiot, I try knocking. I am so lame! I decide to embrace the madness and not only walk through the door, but also through the receptionist’s desk.

  I plop down on top of my desk, swaying my feet over the edge while nervously waiting. Considering that I can walk through closed doors, I can't even begin to fathom how I am sitting on an object. How do I even stand on the floor without falling through? This whole dead/undead/ghost/not a ghost thing is confusing.