Something To Dream On

by Rinella, Diane

  I smile to myself. It wasn’t long ago that I was blind, and I am so grateful for the inner vision I have found.

  “Unbelievable!” Laura turns to storm off. She is so emaciated that she almost disappears before taking a step. My thoughts don’t come from jealousy or even the snarky desire to shove a sandwich down her throat; my heart aches for her. Her walk is awkward, almost limp-like. Her heels hit the ground like a newborn puppy that has a hard time discovering how his paws function. Unlike a puppy, her swagger is completely void of the pep that implies she’s happy to be alive. I remember that feeling. I experienced it almost every day as I walked home from school, emotionally destroyed because I had spent the day being her victim.

  No one should feel like she does—so used that you want to die. No wonder why Jensen is torn. It’s impossible not to want to give her the help she needs, but if he tries to play savior, he may crumble.

  Shit! I’ve still got nothing. All I can tell Larry is that Jensen left me for an obnoxious heifer that is too stupid to be mean to me! She should have fought me a million times over by now. Lord knows I’ve kicked her enough. What does it take to get her to fight back? Now that little wuss is engaged to my man. And happy! She just got out of the hospital and she looks fucking happy!

  When was the last time I was happy?

  I’ll find an angle. I have to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Saturday, July 29

  Pulling my car into the driveway of Good Samaritan breathed new life into me. I didn’t even bother to set my purse down. Instead, I came straight to the kennels in the back to visit my friends. Another level of relief hits when I see who is back here. “Hi, Sherlock.” He doesn’t remember me, because to him we have never met, but I sure remember him. “Hi, Smiddy. Hi, Frankenweenie.” I then wave to the poodle that nipped at me on this very day in a different lifetime. I can’t help but giggle when it pretends to ignore me.

  Being surrounded by my furry friends is what makes me whole, but strolling through this place feels wrong. The single pieces of art hanging on the wall in each exam room are the only sources of emotional brightness. Would it be so wrong to dress it up a bit more? The sparsely padded chairs remind me of the ones my family slept in while watching over me. It is no wonder why it was hard for them to sleep.

  On my desk, a beautiful bouquet of roses awaits. Ah, Jensen!

  That can’t be. We left for work at the same time.

  Griffin’s effeminate voice graces me from behind, causing me to jump. “Don't go getting your panties all wet over those.”

  “Jeepers, Griffin! Are you trying to put me back in the hospital?”

  “Oh, no way! You have no idea what hell I went through while you were gone. Remind me to quit before you leave for that honeymoon of yours. I am not taking the load here by myself ever again.” He leans onto the corner of his desk and crosses his arms, eyeing me as I stare at the roses. “I may have exquisite taste and have gone to a real florist instead of Safeway, but they are not all that fascinating. What's on your mind?”

  “I was in the hospital way too long, and it gave me plenty of time to think.”

  “You were just there for a night. You make it sound like weeks.”

  Oh, yeah. It’s hard to keep reality straight. “Hey, how much time have you spent in a hospital bed?”

  He waves me on. “Continue.”

  “One of the things that crossed my mind was, why are hospitals always so drab? They dress up maternity wards because someone is coming into the world, but when you get anywhere else in there, it is like death all over the place. And there's never a comfortable spot to sit while you are freaking out over the health of the person you love. Why do we treat people that way? I swear, it is like hospitals try to kill you off as quickly as possible so they can shuttle the next person in.”

  Griffin’s chin recedes. “Ooh, what got into you while you were out? I hear near-death experiences do weird things to people, but you just took an intense nap.”

  Oh, if only he knew. “I used to have big dreams. It wasn't being a veterinarian that was important, it was doing something with meaning. Everyone needs a helping hand from time to time. What about the flea-infested cat who was tossed in a dumpster and now will swipe the hand of anyone who tries to help it? What about dogs who were raised to fight? Are they really hopeless? I want to change all that.” I rethink my words to fit my resolve. “No, I will change that. I will help abused animals who would else be discarded.”

  I expect bestie to flameout and get all weird on me about losing my mind, but his straightening back shows I’ve got his attention. “I know you want to. I also know why you haven’t. Do you?”

  Yeah, I do now. “I let someone convince me I was less of a person, and it started a downhill spiral of allowing myself to find excuse after excuse to not work for what I wanted. When I learned that I couldn't be a vet, I wallowed. What I should've done was revamp my goals. But it’s not too late. Jensen will be in school for a few more years while working. I can do it, too.”

  “How is this business going to survive? You expect someone to hand you money for saving an animal they picked up off of the street?” He says it sarcastically, but he may be right.

  “Some people have pets with issues. They can pay us. We’ll find a way to rehabilitate the rest. It just means studying up on non-profit businesses and charitable donations.” Doubt washes over his eyes. I cut him off before he can naysay. “Hey, the idea may need work, but I’m telling you, the answer is in there somewhere. I’m doing this! You with me?”

  Griffin’s expression softens. He takes my hand, and I realize my appreciation for the touch of another will never be the same. “Hey, bestie, don't go getting so riled up. We've always had our hearts in the right places when it has come to taking care of these animals. If you're going to take a plunge, I'm there with you.” He looks to the Lord for strength over what he is about to tell me. “I’ll even go back to school, but you are doing the business part. You leave the behavioral part to me. I’ve seen you with poodles. Have mercy! There is one, intsy bintsy problem though. Where are we going to get enough seed money to persuade a bank to help us? Neither one of us has the last name, Rockefeller.”

  True, but I’m long past letting doubt intimidate me. That Lizetta was squashed by a keyboard. “You leave the money woes to me. Screw your brain in tight because we are going back to school!”

  My little, yellow notepad with the generous wedding budget my parents gave us holds my attention. We could have an awesome party for a fraction of this amount. My parents also wouldn’t have a qualm about me investing a chunk of this into my and Jensen’s futures.

  If we are really going to cut back, how much of the guest list do we need to trim? I don’t need to invite everybody I know down to the mailman, just my immediate family and Griffin. “Hey,” I roll over in bed to face Jensen, and a twinge of pain shoots across my back. I hate that I still have to take it easy. “How big of a wedding do you want?”

  Jensen shrugs. “I don't have anybody to invite.”

  “No one?”

  “Well, my mom, and then of course there are couple of people in my family that I should ask, but really, Mom is the only one I need there.”

  It is sad that a man as amazing as Jensen doesn't have a guest list that could fill a stadium. It is also a relief not to hear Laura mentioned. Then again, unless she’s called him, he still has no idea that I know her. “So, we don't need to have an elaborate wedding?”

  “Nope, I'm going along with whatever you want. If I had my way, we’d go to the park and let nature be our backdrop.”

  “Really? The park?”

  “Actually, there is a spot where I planted a tree in memory of Granddad. If you and I, Mom, Paul, your mom, Jimmy, and Griffin drove over there, and then had dinner where we had our first date, I’d be content.”

  That settles it. No renting a big venue. No expensive caterer. No unwanted guests from our past. “Perfect! It’s settled.”
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  Jensen crosses his arms and sizes me up, just like Paul would do. It’s awesome. “Wait a minute. What happened to the big dreams you had of the perfect day and a dress fit for royalty?”

  “Oh, I am still getting my dress! I nearly died while trying to get it, so I am not going to miss out.” Sweet Lord of all that will not change! A deadly neckline that plunges into beaded, French lace and is finished off with an epic train is mine!

  “Yeah, but something weird is going on here.”

  I take his hands. Jensen is about to see the real me for the first time, because it’s the first time I’ve seen it as well. “Every moment that I have with you is a dream come true. You have school to pay for, and I have visions for a future that I let myself think was unobtainable. It’s not impossible, it’s just not easy. This money can help us, and in doing that we will help others. You and I are a part of something greater than us. It is time we lived up to our full potentials and flew into a better life.”

  Jensen wraps his arms around me with caution, minding my bruised ribs. “I am so proud of you. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in the stress of life that I forget why I am going to school. It’s not just to better me; it’s to better the world. We can do better. Everyone can, they just need to find their way.”

  My notes get tossed aside. As I drift off to sleep, Harold’s voice enters my head, “Close, but you're not there yet.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Sunday, July 30

  Harold asked what I would do with the privileged knowledge I have acquired. I’m starting to understand just how much I absorbed, not only about others, but also about myself.

  I thought my transformation started when Jensen brought Etta into Good Samaritan. When it actually happened was when I hit that Escape key, and I told the universe that it didn't have the right to dictate my future. Then Harold showed me that just because you stand up to the universe doesn't mean you shouldn't listen when it tries to guide you. The universe helps those who help themselves.

  I hate that I never considered the girl who wronged me was hurting far worse. I also despise that her words, brought on by her own lack of self-respect, brought me down solely because I let them. Not only did I let her ruin my body image, I let her damage my spirit. I can blame others, and I can seek help, but in the end, it is up to each of us to choose what direction we spin the Wheel of Fortune.

  Jensen has proven that spirits can be repaired. His was ripped to shreds with the loss of his brother, but he’s taken the reins and changed his life. But sometimes we can’t see what we need to do, or don’t have the strength to act on it. Maybe it means we are weak, or maybe there are factors that others don’t see. Someone has to help Laura, because so many have abused her that she needs to be shown she is worthy of life.

  All this is a pep talk, because what I am doing is crazy, stupid, and somewhat self-abusive, but in the depths of my heart, I know it is right. Without boundless compassion, we are nothing, but what I am doing is also a gift to myself. It brings me closer to releasing a burden that I never should have carried.

  With the arrangements made, I grab my yellow note pad and scratch a zero off the end of my dress budget. I could look at it bleakly, since I almost died for something I am not getting anyway. Instead, I accept that helping a fellow soul, even if it is one that on some levels I’ll always despise, is far more important than spending a few hours in a ridiculously expensive dress. Maybe the accident was the only way to make me see that a dress can’t bring anyone a life of happiness, but I can.

  On a fresh sheet of paper from the pad that holds my dreams, I write a note to be mailed from another city. On this day in an alternate time, Jensen prayed for whatever Laura needed to recover. The love from the prayer is out there and calling me to act.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Tuesday, August 1

  Larry bursts into my room—even though the door is shut and I could well be indecent. Of course a closed door won’t stop him, but some days I like to think he is capable of showing a drop of respect. Stupid people like me never stop dreaming.

  I don’t get a good morning, or afternoon, or whatever time it is out of him. Not even a fuck off. An envelope is tossed onto the bed. He doesn’t bother to put a little spin on it to make it interesting. Much like everything else around here, even his flick is boring.

  It’s got no return address. What a crappy job hand addressing junk mail would be.

  The thing gets tossed. I plan for it to hit the floor. Instead it ricochets off of the wall and onto my pillow. Weird shit like that usually blows my mind, but when I am practically sober, it just freaks me out.

  I hold the thing up to the beam of sunlight coming through the window. Whatever is inside looks handwritten, too. Sure. I’ll bite, even though it is probably taken off of a printer and made to look real.

  Dear Laura,

  Please forgive the intrusion, but for a while now, I have watched you battle demons.

  The fuck?

  This is not an act of sympathy, it is a gift of caring. Arrangements have been made for you at the Gann Rehabilitation Center. Thirteen weeks of meetings have been prepaid. All you need to do is call and ask for Dave. Please do not put him in an uncomfortable position by asking who arranged this. He won't tell you anyway. The moment you show up for the first meeting, I will be billed for the entire program, so please keep that in mind.

  My throat starts closing in, and I blink to clear the water that is welling in my eyes. This is a joke, right? It’s not funny, because I want it to be true so badly that I have to hold my breath to keep reading. I can’t function and look at this at the same time.

  Once you are done, there is a job waiting for you in Red Bluff. The salary isn’t much, but it comes with a small apartment.

  Whoever is playing this joke is winning, because they’ve got my eyes burning. I have to put the note down for a moment. Seeing it while knowing it is a joke is too cruel.

  It would mean a huge move for you, but I am certain that, deep down inside, this is something you have been praying for.

  I filth up my sheet while wiping away mascara-stained tears so I can see. This is so not funny!

  Please don't let yourself down.

  With Love,

  The person whose life you changed

  Praying for? Yes, every minute since Jensen bailed and basically called me out as being not worth his time. If this is real, he must be on some crazy guilt trip. That’s the only way anyone would give a shit.

  This isn’t Jensen’s handwriting. His looks like a chicken had a seizure. This is all circles and swirls. He must have made up with mommy and had her write it.

  The envelope has a postmark from San Lorenzo. Who the crap lives there?

  How dare someone fuck with me like this? This thing needs to be shredded and tossed.

  The sound of the ripping paper hits my ears, and I freeze.

  I can’t tear this. I so want this to be true that I can’t destroy it. I need this to be true. Someone showing they care is my only hope.

  I Google the place into my phone. This has to be a hoax, and I won’t be foolish enough to play into the hand of someone who is jerking me around.

  The name comes up—repeatedly.

  The place exists?

  There are Yelp reviews from as far back as five years ago. Hell, they even have a Facebook page. The phone number on the note matches the one on the website. Still …

  My jittery fingers can barely press the numbers on my phone. I down a swig of tequila as the other end rings, then another when the lady who answers says she’s transferring me to Dave. If this is fake, I’m gonna lose my shit, but if it is real …

  If it is real, I’m gonna drop my knees to the floor in shock that God doesn’t just exists for others, He exists for me too.

  I lose my ability to take in air as Dave confirms that all I need to do is show up. Somebody actually forked over a small fortune for thirteen weeks of appointments and group therapy. They couldn’t afford acc
ommodations, but there is a halfway house nearby. Dave assures I’ll be safe there and will hold on to any belongings I’m afraid will get stolen. It sounds like he may actually care about me, too.

  A weight floats off of my back and is replaced by an invisible blanket that wraps around me. I changed a life? When people say that, it’s about something that was done for the better. I’ve been good to no one.

  It must be Jensen, because giving him that heroin caused him to shape up. Everyone else I know is passed out in the living room, and all I’ve done for them is—

  Well, it’s not worth saving me over.

  The letter trembles in my hands as I grip it to my chest and cry so hard I am nearly screaming from the release of all of the fears I’ve had buried inside. Ten minutes ago I wanted to die, now I’ve found that there is one person out there who cares. Someone doesn’t want me to rot in a gutter or to be used anymore. Dare I think that person must actually love me a little?

  My knees hit the ground, and my head follows as I bow to whatever it is that is so powerful, it is making the impossible happen.

  Thank you, God. Thank you for showing someone I am worth caring about. I absolutely promise I will not let either of you down.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Wednesday, August 2