Something To Dream On

by Rinella, Diane

Larry lies on the sofa, watching cartoons and nursing a fifth of Jack. I hang out in my room, standing near the threshold and shaking while awaiting opportunity. Finally, Larry heads off to pee, and I’m in action. The powder gets swirled into his bottle. Shaking it would form air bubbles. I can’t risk him noticing anything different, and I certainly can’t risk him waking.

  The jingle of his buckle tells me he’s just about done. I need to be out before he flushes. God knows he won’t stop to wash his hands. I manage to make it back to my room before the bathroom door opens. I wait.

  Finally, he passes out. I slip into the rafters in the garage and nab Larry’s secret cash stash. There’s a few grand in here. I must be hitting it mid-deal. There’s gonna be hell to pay when someone doesn’t get their score because Larry misplaced their funds.

  With nothing but the clothes on my back and the cashed crammed into my boots, I walk under the cover of stars to the bus stop, then get lost in the shuffle of public transportation. I’m changing everything about me, including my name. Laura Muler just died.

  The sky is a deep blue, partially obscured by clouds. Jensen and I lie curled under a tree as I rest in his arms. It gives me the same peace I used to find in my old dream. It is the peace of heaven on earth.

  A girl with long, dark brown hair dashes toward us. Dark brown? That’s perfect.

  Laura runs past and into the distance without even nodding at our presence. Suddenly she stops, throws her arms to the sky, and smiles. “Come get me!” she screams to Heaven. A rainbow of light beams down and draws her up.

  I wake just long enough to smile and nuzzle deeper into Jensen’s arms. My dream came true, and so will Laura’s. She is going to be just fine.

  The sky is a deep blue, partially obscured by clouds. Lizetta and I lie curled under a tree as she rests in my arms. This is the way life is supposed to be for us—pleasant, peaceful, and free of troubles.

  A figure with deep brown hair dashes past.

  Laura? Her hair isn’t brown, but wasn’t that her?

  My eyes follow as she runs into the distance. Suddenly she stops, throws her arms to the sky, and smiles. “Come get me!” she screams to Heaven. A rainbow of light beams down and draws her up.

  I wake to find Lizetta tucked in my arms and a scent of change in the air. Something has happened. Oh God, did Laura die?

  I kiss my angel on the forehead and head off to the kitchen for some water. The last I saw Laura, she looked like she was hitting bottom. I told her to go away before she even reached the top of the steps. I haven’t heard a peep from her since. Did she finally get the hint or did—

  How would I find out if she died? Would Larry call me? Would he even notice if she was dead on the sofa? Do I call? If she died, someone should show they care.

  No. Stop right there.

  If she is dead, there is nothing I can do. If she is alive, the last thing I need is to stir the pot.

  But if she’s dead, I killed her by rejecting her.

  No, I am not her keeper. Laura put herself at risk. I am not responsible for her actions. I need to be free of her.

  Back in bed, I tuck Lizetta into my arms. This is all I need to do right now, except …

  It pains me to think that to fully be rid of Laura, I can’t even pray for her. How can I find freedom yet not feel like I have forsaken her?

  “Lord, please watch over the people of this earth. Keep them from harm, and guide them to make good decisions. When we fall, help us find salvation—no matter who we are or what we have done.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Sunday, May 27

  I feel like a dork—a nervous, thrilled, dapper dork, but a dork nonetheless. Who wears a tuxedo to a park? Is it me, or is it unseasonably hot? I’m already melting, and I haven't even left my apartment.

  I catch one last look in the bedroom mirror. Damn, that Bond guy’s got nothing on me. Yeah, a tux in the park may be lame, but I look smoking.

  Even if I looked like a damn fool, I wouldn't complain. This is the one indulgence Lizetta requested. She cast aside an extravagant reception space, live music, and elaborate flowers for an afternoon wedding in the park. However, she was adamant when it came to the attire. “I’ll sacrifice a lot so I can get my business going, but it’ll cheese my bacon if we look like hippies. Mom and I are going to crank out the greatest dress ever made, so there's no way in lollipops you guys are going to look like slouches!”

  I just love her vibrant jargon!

  With a spin, I check out my tails. Yeah, this totally works on me. A swipe and a toss land Bertha’s keys in my hand and I start to head out.

  Wait a minute. I'm not the one driving. Paul is picking me up. My keys get tossed onto the coffee table and my butt onto the sofa. “I’m forgetting something else. What is it I'm supposed to bring?” I loosen my collar that I swear is trying to suffocate me. “Man, heat stroke must be setting in.”

  Etta clears her throat. It’s a face-palm moment. Idiot! I have got to relax. “Don't worry, Etta. I would never forget you.” She cocks her head. I don't blame her. I would not believe me either. I’ve been a master at tripping over my feet all morning.

  Etta changes her posture so that she is standing with her feet firmly centered; yet her ears stay down. Something is wrong, but she's not sure what. Her eyes go to the door, and then back to me. Her bark is a question that asks to explain whatever is coming up the stairs. It's probably my best man. My nearly forgetting Etta is exactly the reason why I’m not driving.

  I am shocked to find a beautiful girl that locks my heart in my throat—a girl with silky, deep brown hair, sparkling eyes accented by a smidgen of makeup, and a trim, yet healthy, figure. Before me stands Laura Muler—not the infamous thorn in my side, but the beautiful person she is capable of being. My lids flicker in disbelief. I can't stop “Wow” from escaping my lips. The weight of the world flies off in discovering that she is alive and apparently well.

  “I see you still can't resist looking at the beauty that is me. Are you really sure you want to get married today?”

  What? How did she know? My eyes move past the beautiful body and onto the bag she grips. It's overflowing with white tissue and ribbon. “Here,” she says, handing it to me. “Technically, it's a wedding present, but you and I both know it's really a thank you gift. And relax, I know your mind just went into the gutter, but this is something off of your registry.”

  “Thank you? For what?” Inviting her in would be the proper thing to do, but the last thing I need is Laura proving she is still her old self. With my luck, Lizetta will walk in. Instead of getting married today, I'll get buried.

  Laura leans against the threshold, crossing her legs at the ankles and tilting her head in a cute way that reeks of trouble. The thing is, with her soft blue dress, that is of respectable length and covers all but the smallest amount of cleavage, she looks rather … dare I say, adorable?

  “Come on, person whose life I changed. We both know what that means, and it's not as sweet as one would normally take it. I will always be grateful for what you did. It worked! It really worked. Of course, I'm sure you know that, as you probably get reports from my boss.”

  Laura has given me some puzzle pieces before but, “What are you talking about? And how do you know I am getting married today?”

  She touches my cheek. “That's really cute. Don't ever change, okay? Tom left the wedding announcement on his desk. That's when I became certain that it was you who put me through rehab. After all the pain I caused Lizetta, how you got her to let Tom give me a job is a miracle of its own. Anyway, it's a long drive back to Red Bluff, and I don't want to be seen around here. No one knows where to find me, and it needs to stay that way.”

  She gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek, but in true Laura fashion it lingers. “I’ll always love you,” gets breathlessly whispered into my ear. She then leaves so quickly that I can't even catch the expression on her face.

  What if instead of bringing Jensen a rig, I had brought h
im a mirror so he could have seen his reflection? Would he have changed, or did it take getting jabbed?

  I admire the hell out of that man. He picked himself up out of the rubble and built a castle. I may have needed a lot of help, but I’m getting there, too. Someday I’ll find someone who will only know the person I am becoming, and that is way better than being with someone who I danced through hell with. There is a reason why I signed the gift card by my birth name, even though I don’t go by it anymore. Laura’s past is with him. Now I’m off to create a past of my own—one that I am not ashamed of.

  I'm left standing like a schmuck. What the hell was that about? Paul has a brother named Tom in Red Bluff. If she's working for Tom, then someone in Lizetta’s family is behind this.

  What pain did she cause Lizetta? How do they know each other? What do they know about each other, and why has my future wife kept that little tidbit from me? I sure as hell am going to find out.

  This whole thing reeks of Paul. Why wouldn’t he tell me what he was doing? Didn’t he know that I know her? Maybe he found out about the situation and wanted to ensure his daughter’s rival disappeared. Did he think that Laura was a threat, or was he just continuing to star in his role as savior?

  Paul pulls into the driveway and gets out of his car as Laura gets into hers. Eye contact is made, yet they go about their business like strangers. When Paul makes it up the steps, he watches Laura drive off. He's not wearing his tuxedo jacket or bow tie yet. Again, Paul is the sensible one. I'm so hot in this thing I’m about to melt all over the pavement. “Who is that little cutie?” he asks.

  Now I'm in the shitty position of having to respect privacy. However, that's my ex-girlfriend and this is my future father-in-law. No one can fault me for asking. “How do you know her?”

  Paul stares as if she is still there and he wouldn’t mind watching a little more. “Her? Never seen her before in my life. A better question is, how does the man who is about to marry my daughter know her?”

  “Really, Paul? I respect the whole confidentiality thing, but can you at least dodge a bit so I get a little of the picture?”

  His putting his hand to my forehead reminds me of when I was a kid and Mom worried about my temperature. “Wedding jitters have gotten to you something bad. Take off that jacket and cool down. Don’t you have a lick of sense in you?”

  “She’s my ex, and she works for your brother.”

  “Tom?”

  “That's the only one I know of. Someone anonymously put her through rehab.” Paul purses his lips together. “You ready to confess?”

  I get a signature, double pat on the back. “You need to talk to Lizzie about that one.”

  “No kidding! How the hell does Lizetta—”

  Now Paul’s face is square in mine with his hands weighing down my shoulders. “You are about to marry a selfless woman. All those weight issues my daughter has, that girl who just left here is the source of them. For decades, she damn near ruined my daughter’s self-esteem; yet when Lizzie found out all the reasons why, she sacrificed to help her and worked with Tom and me for a solution. Laura is why Lizzie never bought that fancy dress she was hell bent to get on the day of her accident. The rest you will need to talk to your wife about, if you choose to ask her. As far as I'm concerned, this conversation didn't happen. Got that? Lizzie not only helped that girl get her wings, she tossed her into the air and got her flying.”

  Lizetta had her heart set on that dress. Ever since her accident, she’s wanted to do more for herself so she can help others. Something about that knock on the head changed my bride.

  “Just remember,” Paul says, “rehab is a personal and often private matter. It's not just that way for the people who experience it, it's that way for the sponsors, too.”

  First I was so freaked out about Griffin running late that I yelled at him over the phone, “Unless you have foregone the tux and are coming in a ball gown, there is no excuse for you to be late. Even then, you can whip on mascara and eyeliner faster than I can paint a nail.” Now Jensen wants to see me before the wedding. My brain is frizzing because I am so freaked out. Like, this can't possibly be good.

  Griffin and I pile into the Bel Air so Jimmy can take us to the park. My grip on Griffin’s hand is so tight that it is making my own hand cramp. “Damn, Bra Buster, you have got to loosen up. You two wrote the simplest vows in the universe, and all you have to do is look luscious, spit out a couple words, get a kiss from your Sweetie Honey, and you are done, so just,” his hands sweeps across the air like a glider to accentuate his point, “relax.”

  God, I hope he’s right. Please let him be right. Why would Jensen want to meet early? He can't possibly want to call this off. Not after all we’ve been through.

  We pull up, and Jensen's already in the parking lot, leaning against Paul’s car and bouncing his foot on the pavement. I catch sight of his hand that holds a big, white bag that is overflowing with ribbon. Oh, thank God! It must be my wedding gift. But if I had to have it before the wedding, why not give it to me this morning, or God forbid, ease my mind by saying why he wanted to see me? “Men! I swear to God I will never understand them!”

  "What did we do?" Jimmy and Griffin chime in unison as I pop out of the car and race toward Jensen.

  Lizetta gets out of the car, and my heart does the stereotypical wedding thing by skidding to a stop. She looks stunning beyond words. My God, today I get to marry this woman and spend all of my tomorrows holding her. I'm so glad that I get to see her now, because if I waited until she made her entrance while looking this lovely, I would lose all ability to say my vows.

  She throws what must be miles of train over her arm, grabs her dress at the sides and dashes toward me. Her veil flows in the breeze, yet her cascading golden hair barely moves. The sunlight radiates off of her every satin and lace-covered curve. She's so beautiful that breath is fleeting.

  Like a lovesick fool, I dash to close the space between us.

  Jensen's lips touch mine, and I'm both relieved and mortified. It's bad enough that he’s seeing me in my dress before the wedding, but to kiss me before the vows start? Isn't there a curse that comes upon you if you do that? “What is so urgent that you have me stressed out before we get married?” Jensen closes his eyes, like he's trying to shut off something that could be trouble. Why did he kiss me if he's concerned about trouble?

  “I don't know how to say this. I'm not upset, because what you did was amazing, but—Here.” He holds out a bag. “It's a wedding present from Laura. Why didn't you tell me that you know her?”

  Laura? Oh shizzles! “We—We went to school together.”

  “No, why didn't you tell me that you put my ex-girlfriend through rehab?”

  My muscles squish into my bones. “Are you angry?”

  Jensen sets down the bag and takes me by the hands. “Of course I'm not angry. What you did was beautiful. Who told you what was going on with her and who she was to me?”

  My mouth goes dry, and I can’t moisten it. He sees my discomfort.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have waited until later, but the moment I knew something was up, I had to find out more. Why would you do such a good deed for someone I’m so close to and keep it from me?”

  Seriously? He’s okay with this? “I didn't try to hide it intentionally.” Nor would I. Harold taught me that prayers are love and once you send out love it lasts forever. Jensen prayed to learn when Laura was safe. My soul wasn’t the only thing that transcended time.

  “I know you didn't. That's the thing. If you wanted to hide it, you never would've gotten her a job working for Tom. Lizetta, what’s going on?”

  A crazy feeling flows through Lizetta’s grip and into my soul. It's not the feeling of love and devotion I usually get when I look into those eyes. Instead, it is one that I have seen before, but not from her. In fact, I haven't seen a look like that since I was a teenager, so I know in all seriousness when she begins her story that the words she says are true.
>
  “Your granddad says hi.”

  Lizetta’s story is a wild one. Some would call it crazy, but to me it's fascinating. And I believe it. I believe absolutely every word.

  Granddad always said that the powers of the universe are beyond comprehension. Now that I understand that I can’t see all the universe can do, I have to wonder how many times those words rang true for me.

  The music starts, and Paul and I stand in front of the tree I planted in memory of Granddad. Griffin stands just across the way. It seems odd that Paul isn’t the one walking Lizetta down the aisle. I was torn about who should be Best Man until Jimmy said something that made perfect sense. “Paul is always the best man. No matter what he does or where he stands. You can’t always count on your father, but you can always count on Paul.” That made it a no-brainer. Then Jimmy followed it with, “Besides, it's going to irritate the hell out of my sister when we’re strolling down that isle and I’m poking her in the ribs.”

  Lizetta’s flowing gown reminds me of the cloak of an angel. A subtle smattering of rhinestones on her veil causes it to glimmer in the sun. I chuckle at her bouquet of white roses wrapped in teal ribbon. Of course, a die-hard Sharks fan would choose something teal over something blue. Then I realize the obvious. A peek at Jimmy, Paul, and Griffin all show that they have teal bow ties. Leave it to my girl!

  Paul, Griffin, Judy, Mom and I gather around the minister as Jimmy walks Lizetta down a path of pink rose petals. When the time comes, we say the simplest of vows. “You and me, walking down the path of forever, together, no matter what tomorrow may bring. I will be with you, always.” What greater thing can you say other than you will standby someone for eternity?

  With the meeting of our lips, we take the song that we write together today, and put a finish on it so that all of our tomorrows can be filled with new medleys.