Marisa nodded.
“Thank you,” he said. “Because what I’m about to tell you will pretty much put that trust to the test. In me. In us. And pretty much everything you believe.”
“What are you talking about? Are you in trouble?”
“Not if Sonia keeps her word.” He regarded his hands. “It all started after the lightning struck. After the coma. I always had trouble remembering things, but over the years it’s gotten worse. And there were bigger and bigger gaps in my memories. I was different.”
“Different?”
“It wasn’t just the scars or the pale skin. The parasthesia or the bad dreams. But me—Jared Collado—I was different. Something inside me changed.”
“Are you ill? You still don’t look well.”
He gave a stilted laugh. “One might call it an illness.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“I’m sorry. But this isn’t easy for me. It’s not every day that you give someone a reason to have you committed.”
She rubbed his hands, clearly anxious. “Please … just tell me.”
He hesitated. “Do you remember what I said on the video?”
“Of course. ‘I know.’ You said you were trying to comfort Kyle. I get that.”
“I was trying to comfort him, yes. But when I said, ‘I know’ … that’s not what I meant.”
He cleared his throat. “When I changed—when I came out of the coma—something happened to me. Something I can’t possibly explain. I need you to understand that.”
She nodded.
“You saw the video,” he said. “As you said, it looks like I was in some kind of trance. It’s like that when it happens.”
“God, Jared! When what happens?”
He sat silently a moment. He nearly bolted for the door.
“Jared. You need to tell me. Right now.”
He closed his eyes and drew a breath. When he opened them, he prayed that it was all a bad dream. It was, but he couldn’t wake up. “I can see souls.”
~ 48
Jared let Marisa digest what he had told her. The expected disbelief was written all over her face. What he did not expect was her anger.
“What do you take me for? An idiot?”
“Mar—”
“I want you to leave.”
“Listen … please.”
“To what? More bullshit? More lies?”
“Give me a chance. Can you do that?”
She folded her arms. “Fine. Look into mine.”
“What?”
“You see souls? Look into mine.”
He didn’t know what to say.
“What’s the matter?” she said. “The magic not working?”
“Please, Mar. Don’t be like this.”
“God, you can be such an ass. This isn’t some piece of fiction, Jared. I don’t ‘suspend my disbelief’ on your say so. You want a believer? Prove it.”
“It’s not like that. It’s something that just happens.”
“Explain.”
“It can happen unexpectedly. I can’t predict it. It seems to be triggered when I’m under sudden, massive stress. Like a rush of adrenaline. It doesn’t always happen, but when it does, it just kicks in.”
He could see the wheels turning in Marisa’s mind.
“Kyle’s accident,” she said.
“Yes.”
“And you saw his soul.”
“Yes.” He said it almost silently.
“Jared?”
A tear had welled in his eye.
“What did you see?” she asked. “His fear?”
Jared shook his head. “His love.” He sniffled. “He was so in love with Ricky’s daughter. Blind, beautiful love.”
Marisa considered. “That’s why you were smiling.”
He nodded. “I was still inside him. Living his love.”
“I’m sorry, but this is … it’s crazy.”
“It’s the truth.”
“If it isn’t, we’re done.”
“Which is exactly why I told you. If it wasn’t true, I wouldn’t be shaking in my boots right now about that video.”
“She said she won’t post it.”
“If she does, I’m done.”
Marisa sat silently, mulling things over. Jared couldn’t know if he had put a dent in her disbelief, or if she had realized she’d had enough of the man with the zany brainy. Her next question both surprised and relieved him.
“What’s it like?”
He could have kissed her, right then and there. “I call it a gateway.”
“Gateway?”
“It’s like a tunnel into someone’s soul. A connection.”
“Like reading their thoughts?”
“It’s so much deeper. Much more personal. Much more real. Like sharing their heart.”
“And this connection—this gateway—it just happens? How?”
“How, I don’t know. But when it comes—when it opens—it’s like nothing you can imagine. I drown in this sea of emotion. This ocean of being. For as long as it lasts, I’m them.”
“Them.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve never had to describe it to anyone. I know them. That is, I know what’s most dear to them. What dwells in their heart.”
“Like Kyle Duncan.”
“Yes.” He sighed. “It’s a horrible cliché, I know. But he loved that girl more than life.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Physically? It’s no picnic. You’ve seen what it does to me. Emotionally? It’s a wrecking ball.”
He went on. “I live what they live. Love. Hate. Fear. You’re terrified of spiders. Imagine you’ve fallen into a dark hole crawling with them. Now imagine someone comes by and covers the hole. That just scratches the surface of what I feel.”
“I think I need a drink. Yes. Definitely. I’ve got some wine, if you’d like.”
“It’s early, but in this case, I’ll make an exception.”
She fetched them two glasses and a bottle of red wine. “I have to ask, Jared.”
“You want to know about Kyle. If what Bobby thinks is true.”
She unscrewed the wine cap and filled their glasses. She passed him a glass. “Does it hurt them?”
He looked her straight in the eye. “I don’t know. It kicks the crap out of me. But I’ve never stuck around to ask, obviously.”
She sipped her wine.
“Did I kill Kyle?” he said. “No. I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so? What does that mean?”
“It means I can’t be sure. Kyle was dying. I doubt anyone could have saved him. If the gateway hadn’t opened, well … maybe he would have hung on a little longer. I just don’t know.”
“I’m sorry,” Marisa said. “I can’t imagine what you went through. All of this is making my head spin.”
Jared winced slightly.
“Are you okay?” she said.
“A bit of a headache. But this helps.” He sipped from his glass.
Marisa picked up the phone and replayed the video. She set it down. Her searching eyes told him exactly what she was going to ask next.
She would not like his answer.
~ 49
“It happened with Kit,” Marisa said to Jared. “Didn’t it.”
“… Yes.”
“You should have told me, Jared. You should have told me everything. But you lied to me again.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I am. But would you have believed it? Any of it?”
“The jury’s still out.”
“I don’t blame you.”
She looked at him, wide-eyed. “And?”
“And what?”
“Kit.”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing?”
Jared took another sip. He shrugged. “I can’t explain it. There was nothing there. I usually get steamrolled by this wave of emotion—of knowing. But with Kit, there was nothing. Not a hint of him.”
“Maybe the seizure had something to do with it. Maybe it interfered somehow.”
“That’s what I think. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Is this the first time that’s happened? The nothing, I mean.”
“Yes.”
Marisa shuddered. “It still gives me the creeps when I think back. I was so scared. For both of you.”
“Me, too.”
“Kit seems fine.”
“He is, Mar. Don’t worry.” He stroked her hand.
“Jared—”
He guessed her next question. “Six times. Seven if you count your son.”
“Do you remember them all?”
“Every single one. The good. The bad. The ugly.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
She kissed him. “I know it isn’t. I don’t know how you handle it.”
He sipped. Again, he knew what she wanted to ask. “I can make it happen. I can open a gateway.”
“But I thought it only happened at random. Like the stress of an accident.”
“Every time it’s happened, I was caught up in some situation. But it doesn’t have to be something life-threatening. It happened in a taxi once. I shared a cab with a pregnant woman. Her water broke.”
“You helped deliver a baby?”
Jared reddened. “Me? Hell, no. You know me, the horror writer who can barely stand the sight of a paper cut. When the woman went into labor, I slipped into a trance. The cabbie was the hero.”
“What is it? What’s with the little grin?”
“Sorry,” he said. “Just reliving the miracle—what she knew in the moment. I can’t begin to put it into words. Pure joy seems so trite.”
“I think I can appreciate what she felt.”
He nodded. “Of course. It’s incredible.”
“So you can open this gateway? With anyone?”
“I don’t know about everyone. Or any one, actually. The only time I tried it, it was on my dog.”
“You have a dog? You hate dogs.”
“I don’t hate dogs. I was just never a dog person. Whatever that is.”
“Where is he? Assuming it’s a he.”
“He was a he. Caesar. He died three years ago.”
“Ohhh, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. He had to be put down. Cancer. The vet gave me a few minutes to say goodbye.”
“And you … you connected with him?”
“I know, it sounds crazy. I hadn’t planned on it. Nothing could have been further from my mind. But standing there, seeing him so weak, I realized that he was my only real friend in the world—and I was his. I didn’t want to say goodbye. It came to me that maybe I could get closer to him. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”
“Of course it does.” She paused, giving him an expectant glance. “So …”
He straightened. “As I said, it wasn’t something I’d planned. It’s not like I knew I could do it. In fact, when the idea struck me, I think I shook my head at how stupid it was. I remember checking the door to make sure it was closed. I almost abandoned the idea. But my curiosity got the better of me. I just focused, for lack of a better term. I cleared my mind and just stared into Caesar’s eyes. And we connected.”
“It’s like they say—the eyes are the window to the soul.”
“Yes. I guess they are.”
“I can’t even imagine what it was like. I mean, a dog?”
“You have no idea. When the gateway opened, this wave of heat swept through me. My heart felt like it was going to explode. I was terrified. I tried to close it, but I couldn’t. I’ve never been able to. It’s something I have to endure to the sweet or bitter end. But after that first rush, what I felt—no, experienced—was unbelievable. Unbelievable.”
“What was it?”
“Forgive me if I can’t describe it. It was raw. Pure. Animal. But universal. I could understand.”
“That’s incredible.”
“I had gotten him three years before. I was out getting a pizza on a Saturday night, and this big boat of a car pulled up to the curb. The passenger window came down, and the next thing I know, this Yorkshire Terrier comes flying out. The car sped off before I could stop them.”
“My God.”
“Disgusting, I know. Well, the dog was in rough shape. Starved and weak. It could barely walk. I tried to find someone to help, but there was no one around. I dropped the pizza and took him in.”
“Saint Jared to the rescue,” she said, smiling.
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “But there may be something to it. You see, that’s what I experienced with Caesar. His deepest emotion was that wonderful feeling of being picked up—of being loved.”
Marisa’s eyes grew misty. She sniffled.
Jared went on. “He was filled with unconditional love for me. It couldn’t go deeper. I had no idea that animals could possess such raw emotion.”
Marisa got herself a tissue. She sat back down. “Saint Jared for sure.” She chuckled, embarrassed, and dried her eyes.
“When it was over,” Jared said, “tears were rolling down my face. When the vet returned, I was blubbering. She thought it was because I was sad. I was, but for a very different reason. That was the last I saw of Caesar. But a part of him will always be with me.”
“Like the others.”
He nodded.
“Jared,” she said, and stopped.
“What.”
“How is this possible? Any of this?”
“It just is. Trust me, if I could snap my fingers and wish it away, I would have done so a long time ago.”
“I can’t imagine the burden you’re carrying. I’m so sorry I doubted you.”
“And I’m sorry I doubted you about Kit’s premonitions. You’d think if anyone would be open-minded about it, it would be me.”
She started to say something, but didn’t. She sipped her wine instead.
“I know that look, Mar.”
She fidgeted.
“No,” he said. “No way.”
She sat up, excited. “You said yourself—it won’t hurt.”
“I didn’t say that. I said I don’t know if it hurts the other person.”
“I’m willing to risk it. Kit was okay.”
“True enough. But look what happened when we connected.”
“I’m not epileptic. Has anything like that ever happened with the others?”
“No. But that’s not the point.”
“Then what is? Maybe we’ll both learn something.”
“Listen. We’re here. You and I, right now. Things are going so well.”
“Are you afraid of what you might find? Afraid of the truth about little old me?”
“That’s not funny, Mar. And yes … I’m terrified. You should be, too.”
“Why? I have nothing to hide. Does it go both ways? Maybe I’ll uncover the cold dark secret of Jared Cole.”
“Sorry, it’s a one-way street. As far as I know, anyway.”
“Then why not? If I’m willing to put my heart on my sleeve, you shouldn’t go all holier-than-thou on me.”
“This isn’t a game, Marisa. We’re talking about you. The real Marisa Judge.”
She took his hand and placed it at her heart. “I want you to know me. I can’t think of anything that would bring me closer to you. Can you?”
“Jesus,” he said, and slumped back in his seat.
~ 50
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jared said.
Marisa sat forward. “I’m a little scared. But probably less than if I was about to jump out of an airplane.”
“I can’t guarantee this will work.”
“Stop stalling.”
“I’m not stalling.”
“Then why are you tapping again?”
He stopped. He finished his wine in a gulp. “All right. I’ll try.”
“Is there anything I need to do?”
“I don’t really know. Try to relax, I guess.”
Marisa took a long, deep breath.
Jared moved closer. “Are you ready?”
She hesitated, then nodded anxiously.
“Okay,” he said. “Here we go.”
He looked deeply into her eyes. He drowned in them, drawn like a magnet. He wanted to hold her. Wanted to feel her lips against his.
“Focus,” she said with a grin. “Kiss later.”
He smiled. “Sorry.”
Jared settled and moved closer. He cleared his mind as well as he was able, and when he fell into those eyes, those eyes that were so telling, so vulnerable, he braced himself for what he feared so deeply.
Truth.
~ 51
Marisa stood at the screen door in her new summer dress; she was ready to burst. She hadn’t seen Jared in days, and no matter how badly she wanted to call, she had resisted. He was busy with his next novel, writing up a storm, his zany brainy taking wing. He wasn’t one of those writers who wrote every day and clung to a schedule—he wrote when the mind wrote it for him. She respected that.
Luscious had been big—bigger than they could have imagined—and after so many years, so many rejections, tonight they were going to celebrate.
She stepped out to the veranda. The early August evening teemed with mosquitoes, the air still and thick. A car turned at the corner, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the beat-up hatchback cruise toward her home.
Jared parked on the street. He didn’t get out right away; she could see him tapping on the wheel. She shook her head.
“Same old Jared,” she said with a smile. “Always worried about something.”
She waved, and he waved back. When he didn’t get out, she made her way down to him. His window was up, and she rapped it twice.
Jared rolled down the window. Smoke wafted in her face, and she brushed it away.
“Sorry, Mar. And I know.” He killed his cigarette in the ashtray.
His trusty notepad was splayed open beside him on the passenger seat. It was filled with his adorable scribbles, from phone numbers to favorite books, to foods he didn’t like. Her address was a third of the way down the left page. An old girlfriend’s number had been crossed off far above her name, and it always made her smile. Jared snatched the book and stuffed it into his pocket.
Gateway Page 12
