by TL Travis
I opt to straighten my hair versus the usual ponytail and shock myself further by deciding to apply a little make-up to my pale face. Sliding into my black skort, I finish off the ensemble with a white short sleeved dress shirt and black ballerina-style flats (since I’m so uncoordinated that I can’t walk in high heels). Grabbing my cap and gown, I head downstairs into the evil clutches of the spawns of Satan.
My dad and I leave before the rest of the family since I need to be at school a half an hour before the ceremony starts. It’s nice when it’s just my dad and I and so rare. He looks handsome tonight dressed in black Dockers, a pin striped dress shirt and black patent leather shoes. My dad’s a handsome man. He still has a full head of dark brown hair and stunning blue eyes.
He is the first to break the silence during the car ride, “Jess, I’m really proud of you and I know deep down, your mother is too.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. Luckily, he doesn’t see me since I am facing the window. I don’t want to ruin his moment.
“Have you decided which college to go to?” he asks.
“Not yet, but I’m leaning toward ASU. My scholarship would cover dorm fees, but I wouldn’t be able to take Dash and Vi so I’m still not sure what to do.”
“The dogs will be fine at home.”
“Ya but Cruella DeVil will have them made into coats.”
“I’ll see to it that she doesn’t. ASU is close enough that you could come home every weekend and on holidays.”
I haven’t really thought about that because I want them to be with me. They’re the glue that’s been holding me together these last two years.
I want to ask him why he’s with that selfish witch who calls herself my mother. I just don’t have the energy or the desire to fight with him, especially not when he’s trying so hard to say the right things to make me happy.
We pull in and park in a space toward the front of the school and then make our way to the auditorium. It is mass chaos with all the screaming girls running around. The boys are shooting each other hi-fives and doing that stupid handshake they do now, you know the one where they slide their hands across each other’s and then turn them into fist bumps.
Mrs. Moss, the school’s Assistant Principal, comes out and blows her whistle a couple of times to get everyone’s attention. She’s a very short, round woman with an orange tint to her skin. She reminds me of one of those Oompa Loompas out of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. She even has the same weird haircut they had only her hair isn’t green, it’s some shade of yellow. I imagine she thinks it’s blonde.
She proceeds to order us to form one line for boys and one line for girls, lining up by size just as we practiced this morning. As soon as we hear the traditional Pomp and Circumstance playing, it is our cue to march into the auditorium and down to our seats.
We funnel in as ordered amid the occasional whoops and hollers and remain standing while they recite the Pledge of Allegiance. After that, our principal Mrs. Dice begins speaking. She was probably an attractive woman when she was younger, but being a principal seems to have taken its toll on her. She’s very tall and thin with a pointed nose similar to a raven’s beak.
After the diplomas are distributed, we toss our caps in the air in the usual fashion and exit the auditorium in two single file lines. Once outside, everyone takes off in different directions toward friends and families greeting them with open arms amid blinding camera flashes.
I am pretending to look for my family when Kara and Anna find me. They give me a hug accompanied by fake tears and the standard, “We’ll really miss you, please keep in touch,” nonsense. I reciprocate, minus the fake tears, knowing we will probably never see each other again. Should I feel remorseful? Because I don’t. I’ve felt alone for so long that I’m not sure how to feel otherwise.
I locate my so-called family, slowly gravitating toward them. My father is the first to notice me, scooping me up.
“Jess, I’m so proud of you. Happy birthday sweetie,” he announces.
My mother hears him say it which compells her to plaster a fake smile across her face and give me a hug in front of everyone.
“Happy birthday,” she mutters as she walks away.
I ride with my dad while everyone else, including my mother, leaves in the high dollar vehicles. On our way to the restaurant, he reaches into the glove box pulling out a beautifully wrapped box and a card handing them to me. My eyes fill with tears. I open the card and read it to myself:
Happy eighteenth Birthday and Graduation, Jess, I’m sorry to combine the two. When I saw this gift, I had to get it for you. I love you, Angel, Love Dad
I tear off the wrapping paper like a kid on Christmas morning, open the box and the tears I am holding back come barreling through like river rapids. Inside the box is an exquisite pair of princess cut diamond earrings. Through my sobs I manage to mutter, “Thank you, Daddy, I love you.”
Choking back tears he whispers, “I love you too, Angel.”
I take them out, immediately placing in my ears.
We arrive at the restaurant as my grandmother insisted on taking everyone to dinner instead of having a party at our house. She probably just wants to flaunt her wealth. My grandfather died five years ago leaving her a boatload of money. He was the only one on my mother’s side of the family who was nice to me, even though I rarely got to see him. He made his money in the stock market. My grandmother was such a bitch to him. I figure, when he died he was probably at peace not having to endure her tirades any longer. I’m sure the poor guy would have hung himself if a heart attack hadn’t taken him first.
Entering the restaurant, I feel extremely under dressed. Of course, my grandmother had to choose a five-star establishment. We tell the hostess our names and we’re guided to a private dining room located in the back of the restaurant. They mumble their mediocre congratulations as my father and I pass them by. We are seated at the far end of the table in the corner where the two remaining chairs are.
Dinner is somewhat painless. A few snide wardrobe comments are directed at me, but the entire event only lasts an hour and half. I find it odd that no one speaks to my dad either. He and I pretty much sit in silence at our secluded corner, both appearing to be social pariahs.
My father and I leave the restaurant and walk over to where he parked while my mother says her goodbyes. I reach to open the back door, but have an uneasy feeling that someone is watching me. Scouring the area, I notice a man standing nearby, facing me. I look at my father hoping he sees him too, but he is on the other side holding the door open for my mother. When I turn back, the man is gone.
On the ride home, I make myself dizzy bobbing my head back and forth, trying to see if we are being followed, but no one is there. I wonder if I should call the police. No, they will think I am nuts and my mother wouldn’t handle the negative press well. Although, I’m sure she would be all too happy to have me committed and out of her house.
Chapter 4
Tonight as I lay down, I found I’m already thinking of my little playhouse before falling asleep and kicking the dream into high gear.
We met inside, only this time he closed the door behind us.
As I turned to open it, he said, “Welcome home, Jess.”
My heart skipped a beat. ‘Welcome home, Jess,’ I’m not home? Why are we here? How does he know my name? He turned facing me, cupping my cheeks in his hands while tilting my face upward to face him. I was entranced in his gaze, closing my eyes with the hope that our lips would find one another. I felt his presence nearing, hearing his lips part and as we touched I was met with the unwelcome clanging brought on by my damn alarm clock.
If this wasn’t on my iPhone, I would have hurled it across the room.
Today’s shift is a full eight hours because I’m covering for a co-worker who needed the day off. It’s a typical nine to five and we are so busy that I work straight through lunch. Last night’s dream, still fresh on my mind, is pulling me through this mundane day, dam
n near ironing my hand at one point.
After work, I decide to head to the mall to shake this off by wandering around aimlessly, window shopping. I must have been there for a longer than I anticipated, finding the sun setting as I leave. Nervously, I continue to scan the parking lot hoping no undesirables are lurking about on the way to my car.
I’m so confused. Part of me wants to run into the man in the shadows, but the other wants to have me committed for even allowing that thought to enter my head. What am I doing? Daydreaming about a freaking stalker who could be a total psycho? For all I know, this guy is an ax wielding murderer waiting to strike when I’m alone. Shit, now I know I’ve lost my damn mind, I’m analyzing stalking.
Pulling into our neighborhood, it dawns on me just how cookie cutter our community is. All the houses are painted earth tones giving them the appearance of being painted with mud. Yards of rock, trees with no shade and cactus as lawn gnomes — boring. No grass in sight, just barren desert wastelands. Oh, how I long for the thick blades of freshly mowed grass and large overgrown shade trees of Michigan. I love the smell of freshly cut grass.
Our back yard sits at the edge of a nature preserve. We must watch for rattlesnakes, coyotes and scorpions so I don’t leave my dogs out unattended. There aren’t many trees, in fact, the only trees here are palms and Palo Verdes (the state tree) neither of which provide shade from the blazing summer sun. I miss climbing the hundred-year-old oaks that shaded our front yard. I remember watching old man Stephens get drunk and subsequently take out the mailboxes on our street with his old Cadillac beater. When the cops would show up the next day he’d deny it, but you could follow the path of downed mailboxes to his driveway.
I’m so preoccupied with the thought of going to sleep in the hopes of continuing my dream that I walk right past my dad. He hollers as I pass by, “Hi honey, how was your day?” never taking his eyes off the TV.
“It was okay, Dad.”
“That was a long day, Jess.”
“I went to the mall for a while after work.”
That must have surprised him because he shifts his attention from the TV to me. “You need time with your friends. You haven’t been hanging out much lately.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him I was alone, I’m always alone. He’d worry if I told him how invisible and empty I felt. Some things are better left unsaid.
Sounding like a broken record, his conversation returns to college.
“Have you made a decision about college?”
“I’m still undecided, I’m gonna head upstairs and do some more research.”
That seems to please him because he turns back to the TV. I hate lying to my dad, but my focus right now isn’t on college.
“Do you want something to eat?” he asks.
I fake a stretch, mumbling, “No thanks, I grabbed a bite at the mall,” and quickly speed upstairs before he can grill me any further.
From a teenage point of view, my life would seem lame. It’s Friday night and I’m sitting at home alone. I suppose if I thought about it hard enough, I would realize they’re dead on with that assessment. They’re probably sleeping off their hangovers from last night’s graduation parties I didn’t get invited to, not that I would have gone anyway.
I fumble with the computer a bit, still unable to find any career that I’m willing to give up four years of my life by going to college for. But I know I can’t continue working at the dry cleaner for much longer. Frustrated, I turn off the computer, take a hot bath, then plop down on my bed. I lay there contemplating life and whatnot, trying desperately to keep my mind from returning to the dream stalker, but I can’t hold my eyes open any longer.
Tonight’s session begins where this morning’s dream ended.
My face was in his hands, our lips mere inches apart. It surprised me that I found solace in his icy touch. Quivering with anticipation as he turned my head facing up realizing I was finally going to see who he was, and let me tell you — he was well worth the wait. Michelangelo himself couldn’t have sculpted a more flawless work of art. His lips, red like sun ripened raspberries. Smooth, blemish free skin enhanced his espresso brown eyes that were highlighted by thick lashes. His head adorned by lush, dark brown locks so silky I wanted to run my fingers through them. All framed by a powerful, masculine jawline. But there was something familiar in those eyes.
His touch sent electricity radiating through me, my skin was tingling.
As I started to ask his name, he spoke, “Jess, it’s me, David.”
The air around me swirled like a cyclone as the life drained from my body. His last words replaying like a broken record, did he tell me he was David? I wanted to go back to sleep, to ask him, but the adrenaline rapidly coursing through my veins wouldn’t allow it.
Racing across my room, I fumble booting up my computer. Repeatedly pushing the power button wasn’t going to make it go any faster. I rip the desk chair out, plopping my butt down. As soon as the computer is ready to go, I make a mad dash for Google to search David Cordova impatiently awaiting the results. I need to find out what I can about him. Where’s he been? Has he been in trouble? What the hell is going on?
Shit, two million eight hundred ninety thousand results were found. Okay, obviously I need to be more specific so I typed in David Cordova, Royal Oaks, MI. Well, that narrowed the search down to a mere one hundred and fifty-five thousand. Damn good thing I’m wide ass awake now.
Before clicking on the first result, I take a deep breath to steady myself. After several fruitless hours of endless searches, I find nothing that can be of any use. Well, at least it appears he hasn’t served jail time nor done anything bad because people love to put that shit on the internet. There isn’t anything on YouTube, nothing on Facebook or MySpace — nothing anywhere. It’s as though he were never born. Was that really David, or is my mind playing a trick on me?
Being so engrossed in my research, I damn near fall off the chair when my phone starts ringing, the call is coming from an unknown number. I answer it and am taken aback by the response:
“Hello Jess, it’s David.”
“Huh?” is all my feeble mind can muster.
“I want to see you. Are you available tonight?”
Boy if it isn’t David and is instead a psycho stalker that dices me into a million pieces, I’m screwed on multiple levels. But, what if it is David and he’s a psycho stalker slash rapist that chops me up, mailing the pieces to my father. My imagination is definitely getting the best of me. Well sleep deprivation isn’t helping that cause either – not a great combo. By the time this is over I’ll have my own padded cell at the looney bin.
Apprehensively I mutter, “Yes. How did you get my number?” But that question goes unanswered.
“I’ll meet you at work. You get off at seven, right?”
“How do you know where I work? How do you know when I get off?” My voice is elevating with each syllable. This is freaking me the fuck out!
On that note, he hangs up.
What the hell just happened? How can you dream about someone, someone you haven’t seen in years only to have them call you immediately after? It’s like I’m living in an alternate universe.
Somehow my shaky legs carry me down the stairs. I plop down on the couch, flipping aimlessly through the channels. I need to calm my racing heart before I have a freaking heart attack. Clicking through infomercial after infomercial, the thoughts of recent events won’t go away. For some reason, they take a turn into erotic fantasy mode. In my half-awake half-dream state, my subconscious chooses to put me in a precarious position with regard to David. As this fantasy unfolds, my hand went searching for an outlet heading south, exploring between my thighs. My finger slides in and out, the wetter I get, the harder my breaths become. Reaching the point of release, my mother walks in snapping me out of my seductive enslavement thus spoiling a much-needed wet dream.
This embarrassed the ever-loving shit out of me and her face clearly conveys her disgust with
my behavior. I feel like a child and to avoid further verbal/non-verbal discussions on this topic, I go upstairs to take a cold shower and escape her scorn.
When I finish dressing, I barrel down the stairs and out the door for work. My head is in a cloud, so preoccupied with this morning’s events that it takes my co-workers yelling at me to bring me back.
“Jess, what’s up with you? Do you realize you’re about to put bleach in a load of colored laundry?”
“Shit, sorry. I’m meeting an old friend after work that I haven’t seen since grade school and I’m really nervous.” That seemed to piss her off even more.
“Snap out of it before you really screw something up.”
If only she knew how badly I may be fucking up.
My eyes are glued to the clock, but it is only six, the final hour for which I knew would drag out. What if he doesn’t show up? Now I’ve psyched myself out for no freaking reason, but on the other hand it may be a good thing if he doesn’t show. I’m an idiot, why do I keep doing this? What a pathetic loser. My sad, meaningless existence has come to turning my dreams into a neurotic reality.
I turned toward the front windows looking out to watch the sunset, hoping to calm my nerves. My legs feel like giving out, so I sit down in the chair next to the machine I’m working at. Deep breaths, girl, this is no big deal. Ya right, no big deal. I might possibly have set myself up for some deranged psycho to finish me off.
Seven o’clock comes and I find myself no better off than I was an hour ago. I sprint to the time clock, punch out, then nervously walk to my car scanning the parking lot the whole way. He is nowhere in sight, not sure whether to breathe a sigh of relief or feel disappointed, I reach over to turn on the radio when someone knocks on my window scaring the shit out of me. I jump, looking up and I see Leah and Cole standing there.
I roll down the window and Leah asks, “Why are you sitting here. I thought you were hooking up with someone?”
Stilling my nerves, I tell them, “I don’t meet him for a bit, so I was just going to hang here until then.”
