Something To Dream On

by Rinella, Diane

  I’ve always known Laura was full of shit. Now this filthy, little liar is fibbing about how well she knows Lizetta. Griffin told me he knew about his sexuality in grade school and has been honest with everyone from the start. Laura is the one who lives lies. I can’t help her if she won’t face herself.

  I nudge Etta aside and take Laura’s hands. I can’t shake the feeling that Lizetta knows and is pissed, but dammit, I’ve got to reconcile this crap. Like it or not, the universe keeps showing me that I am in this with her. “Laura,” I look deep into her eyes—deeper than I ever have before. She has really beautiful eyes. I’ve always known that, under the right circumstances, I could get lost in them. “I need you to be honest with me.”

  She slides her hand behind my head. “About what?” she whispers, and something in her tone nearly steals my breath. I’m reminded of all the times we have been like this and why I always caved. I despise how this girl constantly conflicts me.

  I snap back to reality—harshly. “You’ve lied about your relationship with Lizetta. These aren’t pictures of your friend; they are trophies. The more you hurt, the more you hurt others. It’s time you faced what caused you to hurt in the first place.”

  Laura yanks her hands away and starts to make for the door. I nab them and pull her back down. “You need to talk about this.”

  “No!” she snaps. “I don’t need to talk about anything.”

  She has got to get out of fantasyland. This whole crock of crap about knowing Lizetta isn’t just her way of trying to gain approval. She may be so far gone that she is creating an alternate reality. Lord knows that if I were Laura, I would want to. Hell, in a way I did. “You need to let this out and be honest with yourself. I can’t help you until you take the biggest step of all.”

  The way she jerks implies my touch stings. Her tone stays sharp and bitter. “What? And tell everyone that my dad raped me? There! I finally said it. Ya satisfied now?”

  Not in the least, and the tension in my neck reinforces the power of my voice. “No. You were like this long before that happened. I can’t help you fight lies unless you face the truth.”

  I expect her to crumble, but she pops up and stares down at me while holding ground with a tone that almost pushes me back. “Fine! Dad beat my mom to a pulp when she couldn’t lose the baby weight—baby weight she put on when she was pregnant with me! Did he bug her after she had Larry? No, and she never let me live it down. Finally he caved to his sick fantasies, called her a cow and raped me. If she hadn’t been fat, he never would have abused her, and I never would have been raped. Now are you happy?”

  Happy about this? Never. But I will get satisfaction tonight when she hits rock bottom, because that is the only way she can head back toward the top. There is also fire in my veins because she lied to me, not to mention that I have a sneaking suspicion that there is a lot more to this story. I’ve seen Laura in action with chubby girls before. She’s ruthless, and Lizetta has emotional scars brought on by bullying. I stand up and call her out on behalf of the woman I love. “You and Lizetta were never friends, were you?”

  She stays up in my face. Neither one of us is going down easily, and I’m fine with that. “How can you see her as some beauty queen? Your idolatry is disgusting!” Laura grabs the engagement photo and screams. “Fatetta! She was a pig who always acted above everyone else!”

  I rip the photo from her scrappy hands. “Don’t you dare! Tell me you never called her that!”

  Laura’s eyes get the wild look of a rabid animal, yet they are also reddening. Good! She deserves to feel the sting of the pain she’s inflicted. “Oh, I did. To her face even! How dare she parade around like she wasn’t the problem!”

  That’s fucking it! I’m a quarter of a second away from smacking this bitch’s head against the wall and cracking her skull open. It radiates in my eyes that scream I’m gonna rip her fucking voice box out!

  Her tears begin to pour. The rare times she really cries kill me, because Laura is tough. Real tears only happen when she has been kicked too hard. Like it or not, this is what I asked for. Spit flies out from the hiss of my words. “She was never the problem. He was.” I put the picture of Lizetta in Laura’s face. “Apologize to her!” Laura turns away, and I shove it back into her view. “Apologize to Lizetta and every girl you have ever insulted because of your issues. Then face the real problem!”

  She turns on me. “What about you, Jensen? When are you going to face the real problem? You can’t let me go, and you know it.”

  “You’re right, I can’t. And you know why? Guilt. I feel guilty for leaving you behind so I could take care of myself. I feel guilty that you are killing yourself because of your inability to find the same strength I have. You know that I hate you for bringing me that damn rig when I was too spaced out to stop you, yet I still see your potential when no one else does. You also know I am not as selfish as I think I am, and you play that against me. How you are turning this situation around is proof. I’m facing that now. Can you face you like I am facing me?” I grab the photo again. “Look at the woman in this picture. Know that you gave her self-esteem issues that she battles every day and that you are lying about your friendship with her to get to me. Then catch your reflection in the glass and face yourself!”

  Laura falls to her knees, and I go down with her. I may hate this bitch but I also love her, and I am not letting her face this alone. I know she is not strong enough, and I would be selfish to abandon her now.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers. She shakes her head and buries it in my shoulder. “Oh God, Lizetta, I am so sorry. You don’t deserve to die.”

  Laura’s words make my throat tighten. She’s right. Lizetta has been in a coma for over a week. One way or another, she will soon be gone. If I am going to finish facing my demons, I have to face that one too.

  I raise Laura’s chin. My gentle tone compliments my touch. “Now, tell me who you are really angry at.”

  Her eyes lock straight into mine. “My dad.”

  “Whose fault is it really?”

  “My dad’s.”

  “Come on.” I extend my hand. “As long as you are willing to fix this, I’ll do anything I can to help you. But Laura, there are boundaries, okay?”

  Laura nods. Jensen guides her to the sofa where he curls her into his arms as she sobs. I should be jealous. I should want to rip her eyes out and kick Jensen to a pulp for holding her. But for the first time, I am thankful that I am not Laura. If my death leads to someone with her troubled past finding peace, maybe her claiming my joy isn’t so bad.

  She raises her chin, and looks to him with adoration. He returns the gaze, and the grin that drags across his face shows he’s resigning himself to the comfort of the moment. Jensen has always looked past my body to see the real me. Now he is looking past her baggage. She truly is my replacement.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Saturday, July 29

  “Anyone have anything to say?” Paul asks with his eyes locked on the table. None of us want to look at each other because it would be acknowledging defeat. The last time we were here, at the lake, I had such high hopes. Now, part of me—

  Part of me is giving—

  This is crap.

  Paul’s sigh is filled with vibrato. “Being the leader isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  Judy puts her hand onto Paul’s. “No one blames you, honey. None of us want to start either. Thank you for trying. We all know where your heart is.” She then sucks it up and braves moving forward with balls like those that I have only seen on one other person—my mom when Granddad had a stroke that left him blind, half-paralyzed, and unable to live on his own.

  Judy’s eyes scan evenly across the three of us. “Okay, without determining when it would happen, it is time to decide if we are even willing to consider extreme measures or if that option is completely off the table.”

  “I don’t want us to do it,” Jimmy blurts out. The rest sounds sheepish. “But it shouldn’t be off t
he table.”

  Paul chimes in. “We have that damn medical directive, but Lizetta always avoided talking about the conditions. Jensen, the two of you were planning a future. Did this ever come up?”

  This is such a nightmare. In hind sight, I see how this is one of those things you should talk about with your partner for life, but why would two people in their twenties, who are planning a wedding, talk about dying? How could you even begin to expect something like this would happen, especially when you are so young and full of love and hope? “Every word between us was about growing old together. The thought of what comes after never crossed our minds. We were too busy focusing on living in the moment. That’s why …”

  Dammit. If I hadn’t proposed, this never would have happened.

  “Wait,” Jimmy chimes in. “How do they look at this stuff where she works? We should call Griffin. They must have talked about this a thousand times over.” Jimmy goes for his phone.

  I shiver. We did talk about this once, when I told her about Eddie. She called taking away his suffering a precious gift of love. Is that what she wants, for us to show her love through mercy?

  God, this situation sucks! How can we be sure we are doing the right thing?

  Jensen jumps up, grabs a stone, and hurls it into the lake. He then paces the length of the picnic bench, scrubbing his hand through his hair and then smacking the back of his head.

  This is ridiculous! Just because I am starting to accept that I may not make it doesn’t mean I am ready to leave my family. Even if it gets their hopes up in vain, they need to know I am still trying. I’ve been so afraid of not playing my cards right that I’ve neglected doing what I should have done long ago.

  I jump up on the table and run back-and-forth. It whips Etta into a frenzy. Then I let fear overcome me for no reason other than the fact that I'm about to die. As my emotions build, Etta barks and circles the table. “That's my girl!”

  Jimmy's eyes go up. He's looking at me without knowing it. “Remember that thing I said about how sometimes I feel Lizetta? Anyone think that Etta’s acting strangely?”

  How have I missed this? Etta is smart, but she’s reacted to the alcohol, she sleeps in the same spot she always did when Lizetta is there, and she often wags her tail to the right—just like she does when she sees Lizetta!

  Jimmy’s words match my thoughts. “This may sound crazy but …”

  I pop up from my seat. My hope is senseless, but so is this whole situation. “Lizetta, if Etta is reacting to you, can you get her to go to that pine tree?”

  Etta’s head follows as if someone has jumped off of the table and is heading for the tree. She runs along, yapping like crazy. Euphoria rushes through me as my hope surges to new heights. This might be the most beautiful sight I will ever see.

  “Now come back,” I yell. Etta dashes back to the table. Paul has a tight grip on Judy, whose hand covers her lips, and Jimmy’s mouth is agape, all while I hold my breath. Tears fall from every one of us. My words race out in excitement. “Lizetta, we need to know what you want us to do. Should we let you find peace, or do we keep fighting to get you back? Run back to the tree if we should let you go. Run to the water if you want to stay.”

  Etta makes for the lake and dives in. For a moment I freeze in awe, but then my spirit sends me running. Each thump of my feet makes my heart pound faster, just knowing that I’m getting closer to Lizetta. I don’t even bother taking off my shoes before letting the water embrace me, while knowing that by some miracle I am in the same space she is.

  Granddad always said there is more to life than we could ever hope to see. My mother was the only one who didn’t think he was crazy. When my brother died, I fought the universe, thus throwing my spirit to the ground. Then Lizetta came into my life and while she has always brought me hope, right now she is making my spirit soar.

  Diving into the lake was just the beginning of my marathon. Once out, I run for my life. My dash takes me blocks away—through the lobby, past the exam rooms, and out to the back where Griffin is washing out the kennels. I go through cyclone fencing and into the cage of a German Shepherd. He flips out to tell me he’s not happy that I’ve invaded his domain.

  “Sherlock!” Griffin warns. He points to the Welsh Corgi in the next cage. “You’d better shut your mouth, or I'm gonna let Smiddy at you.”

  Once I get Sherlock good and riled, I pass through two cages and coax a Dachshund into chasing her tail. Griffin takes a stance with his hands on his hips. He reminds me of his mama. “Frankenweenie, what the hell is wrong with you?"

  Inside the next cage, I stir up more trouble with a poodle. Naturally, it nips at me. Griffin heads over, and it snaps at him through the fence. "Oh, that's just it! I've had it with everyone around here!" He throws down the hose and struts into the building. When we get near a cat getting a flea bath, it scuttles across the room and slides in front of Griffin. "What the hell is going on around here? Are we about to have an earthquake or something?"

  Griffin stays on target toward the front. The door of an exam room opens, and a woman exits with a Dalmatian. I dance around it and then around Griffin. The thing comes unglued to the point where his owner can barely contain him on his leash.

  “Did I take a bath in something funny?” Griffin asks.

  I stay where I'm at and let him walk forward. A lady exits the next room with a cat in a carrier. The cat looks in my direction and hisses. Griffin turns back in disbelief. “What is going on?” The head-shaking Griffin goes into the office area and takes a seat at his desk. How can he be so oblivious? “Nothing’s been the same at this place without Lizzie.”

  Come on! Make the connection!

  A tinkling in the lobby signals divine intervention. Hopefully my favorite, slobbering hound will give me a break. Griffin opens the door to let Socrates in for his appointment. Socrates tugs at his leash in a request to visit me. “Come, boy,” his owner says while tugging back. “She’s not here now.”

  The hoodels I’m not! I do jumping jacks while meowing. Socrates tugs harder and begins barking. I pop up on my desk and he breaks free. Griffin chases him, but when Socrates jumps up to get to me, Griffin stops dead in his tracks. “Girl, what is going on?”

  "Excuse me?" Socrates’ mom asks.

  "It’s nothing ma'am." Griffin stares at my desk, and then guides Socrates to an exam room. A few minutes later, he returns with a cat. The closer he gets to me, the more the cat smacks its tail against Griffin’s bicep. Griffin backs off. The cat still glares in my direction, but now her tail just swishes. "Lizzie, are you here?" He gets close, and the cat tries to claw out of his arms.

  Griffin’s face goes void of life. "Lizzie baby, knock once if you're here, twice if you're not. Never mind, that's crazy talk. Just knock.”

  Gah! If I could make noise, I’d have done it ages ago. Griffin waits with bated breath as I scramble for a solution. I jump toward him and yell, “Boo!” The cat’s fur stands on end, and she hisses.

  “Sweet Baby Jesus! I’ll be a—” The cell phone on Griffin’s desk rings, causing him to jump, which in turn causes the cat to shriek. “Five missed calls from Jensen. Lizzie, what’s going on? Are you … Oh no, you are not dead!” He answers the phone, and his “Hello?” crawls out. “Etta jumped into the lake like she was going after Lizetta? No, no. Not as weird as you may think.” Through the earpiece, Jensen’s voice rattles on. “Hold—Hold up, Mr. Big Bulge. Stop panicking about not feeling her anymore.” Griffin calls out, "Lizzie, you're here, aren't you?” I do the only thing I can count on to work—take a step towards the cat and it claws at Griffin. "Stop pissing off the cat!”

  “Sorry.”

  His words are aimed at the phone. “You catch that?” He then calls out, “Look, Casper, after work we are all going to see that psychic—you know, the crazy woman that said something bad was going to happen to you. Maybe she can figure out this madness.”

  Yes!

  Despite Griffin being far from anything resembling a gearhea
d, he actually named this trusty, old Nova. Giving this Fire Engine Red baby the name Peaches seemed absurd, until he told me that driving a beater was the pits. Though my logic said the car should be named Cherry, he replied, “Nope. Some things just ain’t worth popping.” Then my brain shut off because I couldn't handle all the weird connotations.

  Peaches bounces into the driveway and scrapes her tail on the way up. Seriously, new shocks are not that expensive. It’s a wonder Paul is fine with me hanging out with this guy.

  Griffin doesn't even shut off Peaches before Jensen has his head inside her window. “Is she still with you? Paul said there’s been no change.”

  I touch Griffin’s arm and hum. He looks to me in the passenger seat and rubs his jaw. “Yeah, she's here. Either that or I’ve completely lost my mind.”

  Jensen opens Griffin’s door. A smile the width of the Grand Canyon crosses Griffin’s face as he eyes every inch of Jensen and bats those lashes that practically reach his brow. “You know, if you ever want to cross over to the dark side …”

  Jensen takes two steps back and jerks his hand off of the handle. I laugh at how his being gentlemanly is suddenly a sin.

  Jensen’s arm gets a girly slap. “So sensitive! Brother, we have got to lighten up because we are both on the verge of madness. We can't let stuff get to us too much, or they are going to put us in a couple of those pink padded cells, and pink is just not your color.” He heads off with his hips swinging in a full woman’s swagger. “What are you waiting for, Sugar? Enjoying the view?” Jensen snaps into a sprint to open my door. This time Griffin’s once-over calls Jensen out as being a prime cut of meat that is buttery, rare, and ready to devour. “Always the gentleman.”

  The Amazing Zolta answers the door. “Did I forget an appointment?” She snaps her wrist over to check her watch. “Sorry! Closed for dinner! Come back in a few hours. Oh!” Her finger goes up. “A moment.” She scuttles over to a Day Planner and smacks it with said finger. “I'm booked for the rest of the evening. Now, tomorrow morning—”