by Taylor Dean
I sigh. Truthfully, I know nothing about him. He’s not very forthcoming and I’m struggling to figure him out. It’s like taking shots in the dark with a bow and arrow. How close am I to the truth?
I want to ask more about his leg and how he manages, but it doesn’t seem polite.
I wonder if he’s “standing in a bucket of crabs” as my father always says of someone who is trapped and unable to move forward. The analogy refers to a bunch of captured crabs trapped in a bucket—they could easily escape one by one, but if the other crabs notice one crab getting away, they latch onto it and pull it down with them. Hence, no crabs escape and they all end up on the dinner table. Is Stony trapped in his own “bucket of crabs?” Maybe he’s constantly pulling himself down and not allowing himself to live his life. I can’t imagine what it would be like to resume living after an accident like his. It really does change the course of your existence.
I don’t know what to think. I only know I want more. I want to know everything about him.
“Spencer?” Stony says, taking me out of my reverie.
“Hmmm?”
“Sorry I turned you away yesterday.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I did at first. Bothers me.”
It’s true, he did at first. But I know I took him off guard and it took him a few minutes to process everything. “It’s what you did afterward that matters, Stony. You redeemed yourself.”
He’s quiet for several heartbeats. “Thanks.”
Later, Stony grills some burgers on the stovetop and we eat dinner while sitting on our recliners in front of the TV. I think this might just be the most perfect day I’ve ever enjoyed. This has been such a strange and unexpected way to meet a man, but I’m certainly not going to argue with it. I can’t stop the contented sigh that escapes my lips.
I like Stony.
CHAPTER
Eight
“HEY SPENCER, YOU awake? Can’t sleep ‘til I get this off my chest. Hope you don’t mind.”
I turn onto my side and burrow a little deeper under my covers as the rain continues to hit the motorhome with rhythmic cascades that lull me back to sleep. Just as I’m drifting, drifting, drifting . . . I again hear Stony’s voice in my head, his voice muted and mystical as it competes with the constant drum of rain overhead.
“With you showin’ up on my property . . . I can’t really explain just how that made me feel. Thought I was dreamin’ for a second or two. Thought maybe you weren’t real or maybe I’d just had too much sun. Gotta say, you looked like an angel with all that blond hair makin’ you glow. Took me back.”
I shift again in my bed. I’m straining to hear what I think is Stony’s voice. The sound is nearly drowned out beneath the rain, but I swear I can hear him speaking to me. My eyes are heavy and I feel paralyzed with sleep, but Stony’s words are dancing around in my head in a magical sort of way.
“I like being alone out here . . . I like the solitude. Lately though, I don’t know, I guess I think about having someone here with me. Don’t think people are meant to be alone, you know? Just not how it’s supposed to be.”
I stretch my legs, fighting to hear Stony’s words. It takes effort when I’m heavy with sleep.
“The weird thing is, right when I thought I don’t want to live like this . . . well, that’s when I looked up and . . . there you were. Thought I was hallucinating from too much sun. Thought you weren’t real, that I’d imagined you. You looked so beautiful and . . . like you needed me. Fact is, I haven’t felt needed in a very long time. It felt like . . . like I’d been given a gift . . . and fate was saying, Here, the rest is up to you. And what did I do? I turned you away. I don’t know why I did that. Fear, I guess. Felt like such an eerie coincidence. Scared the life out of me. The way you looked at me though . . . haunts me . . . and then when you turned to leave . . . I felt so . . . alone. More alone than I’ve ever felt. I think maybe . . . maybe you’re not here by accident. You’re here because . . . I need you. Maybe you need me too. I don’t know.
“I swear . . . I had no idea you were about to collapse. If I’d known . . . if I’d been more observant, seems like it would’ve been obvious. I guess I was distracted by everything going through my mind. Crazy thoughts. Sorry ‘bout that. Just so you know . . . I would’ve driven through deep water if you had needed more help. Nothing would’ve stopped me. Nothing.”
I can’t speak or respond, sleep holds me captive. But I want to. More than anything, I want to.
“Don’t really know what happens now. I think maybe . . . we have a chance.” He sighs heavily. “Maybe I’m reading you wrong. I don’t know. Rain has forced us together and I’m . . . I’m okay with that. Your thoughts might be miles away from mine. I understand if that’s the case. No hard feelings. Think I just wanted to say . . . please give me a chance. That’s about it. Goodnight, Spencer. Sleep well.”
I whisper, “Goodnight, Stony.” But I’m not sure if I just repeated it in my head or if I actually said it out loud.
My mind whirls with his words as they flit around in my head as if they’re trying to escape. I float back to sleep—not sure I was ever really awake—with Stony’s deep voice echoing in my head over and over, his words warming my heart.
CHAPTER
Nine
I WAKE UP slowly, feeling my eyelashes tickle my cheeks. My mind springs to life before my body. I feel sluggish, almost lethargic and I’d like nothing more than to curl up and sleep for another hour.
I place my hands over my head and stretch my sore muscles. That’s when memories rush through my tired brain and I’m fully awake within seconds. My dreams were vivid last night. Scary vivid. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that Stony actually visited me in the night and said the most incredible words to me.
The psychology behind dreams has always been fascinating to me. Experts say some people try to work through their problems in their dreams. I wondered over Stony’s strange reaction to my appearance on his property. Perhaps I was searching for some type of logical excuse. My new and unexpected feelings are causing me to search for a little romance too.
Freud believed every dream was a wish fulfillment. I think that might be the most apt explanation when it comes to me. Of course, many modern scientists believe dreams are simply the brain doing a little house cleaning as we sleep.
Whatever it is, nearly all experts agree that dreams tend to reveal something important about our current psychological process.
That makes sense.
The weird thing is, when I think back on those moments when I made my way towards Stony’s home, I realize that I really did feel drawn to his homestead. It’s a little eerie. But then, I needed help, I was close to collapsing, and I was desperate, so it’s not strange that my emotions were a little out of whack.
I’ve always been a heavy sleeper. Add on a bout of heat exhaustion and I was knocked flat last night as I caught up on my sleep. A story from my childhood comes to mind, one that Cait has always razzed me about. At one of her infamous slumber parties, the group tried to awaken me in the morning for the pancake breakfast. They actually dumped me out of my sleeping bag—and I didn’t wake up. After staying up late, I was out and refused to arise.
On another occasion, the smoke alarm went off in our home due to some faulty wiring. Everyone was up and out of the house almost immediately, except me. My father quickly ran back in the house and carried me out. When I woke up, I was on my brother’s lap while the fire department investigated. I had no recollection of being moved from my bed.
Sometimes my sleeping habits scare me. Burglars could rob me blind and I’d sleep right through it. What a creepy thought.
I push the Wall of Jericho—as I’ve come to think of the privacy drapes that keep my bed secluded—aside and get to my feet. In the old movie, It Happened One Night, starring Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert, they end up staying in hotels together as they travel. Since they are not married, they divide the rooms they stay in with a b
lanket for privacy and call it the Wall of Jericho.
I now have my very own Wall of Jericho.
I realize I feel like myself again. Even so, I’ll never forget my relaxing day with Stony while the sound of the rain pitter-pattered overhead. It felt like we were the only two people in the world and I loved it. I make my way across the small hallway to the bathroom. I brush my teeth and splash cold water on my face. As I look at myself in the mirror, Stony’s voice echoes in my mind. My eyebrows knit as I struggle to recall my dream.
Don’t really know what happens now. I think maybe . . . we have a chance.
My imagination is on overdrive. As I comb my hair, a few more random thoughts from my dream wander through my mind. I imagined I heard Stony saying things to me last night that stole my breath from my chest.
I would love to explore the possibilities between us. Of course, I have no idea if he actually feels the same or if it has even crossed his mind.
My mother always said when you find the right one, you will know it without a doubt. I never believed her. I’ve always felt it takes time and effort to dig down deep and truly know someone. Yet, for the first time in my life, I am immediately enamored with a man—and I understand what my mother meant.
Could Stony be my great big beautiful love, the one my mom is always going on about?
I don’t know. I still want the time to get to know him, but I feel the fluttering of attraction. I really was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with me. Why haven’t I ever felt those magical feelings that bring a man and a woman together? Will I still feel them if Stony initiates physical contact? I have no idea. But I sure want to find out. I ponder over the moment when he helped me to the bathroom. Just the feel of his arm on mine made me pause. Was it just gratitude or something more? What will more do to me?
I silently approach the kitchen, hoping to observe him unnoticed for a few moments. I find him flipping pancakes. Somehow he knows I’m there because he doesn’t look up as he says, “You’ve now had just about everything I know how to cook.”
A complete sentence? We’re off to a good start.
Stony places several pancakes each on two plates. He sits and immediately begins to eat without looking up. “Rain has stopped. I’ll go out and check the roads, see if I can get through.”
He doesn’t even glance at me and I feel myself deflate with massive amounts of disappointment flowing through my veins. Judging by his body language, it seems clear he’s not interested in pursuing any kind of relationship with me. I wish the words I heard him say in my dream were real. Wouldn’t that be amazing?
“Can I go with you?” I ask.
He shrugs again. “Sure.”
He’s acting indifferent. But then, I have no idea how I expect him to act either. Even if my dream were real, it wasn’t as if he declared his love for me. No, he just wanted to give us a chance.
Evidently I can’t even fantasize correctly. At the very least, I should have imagined that he’d fallen in love with me the moment he saw me.
I let out a sigh. I thought I’d be greeted by Prince Charming this morning. Instead, it’s still just Stony, a silent and unsmiling man. I ask myself if I’m okay with that and the answer is a resounding yes. I admit, the answer surprises me. But I find him intriguing. “I can’t believe the sun is out and the rain has finally stopped,” I offer, trying to make conversation. I miss our rained-in day already.
“Supposed to be hot today.”
“Aren’t you going to be too hot in long sleeves?” I immediately wish I could take my words back. It’s not my business what he wears.
He finally looks up at me and I feel like I should fall over from the intensity of his gaze. “Don’t want too much sun.”
“Oh, of course.” Today his eyes seem shuttered, as if he’s protected them with some type of invisible shield. I still can’t read him and it completely confuses me. I can’t detect a hint of emotion in his demeanor. The man who spoke to me in my dream is filled with so much raw emotion, it was almost scary.
Last night was a dream. Just a silly dream.
Of course it was.
My mind is playing tricks on me. Stony is the first man who has ever gotten under my skin. I find it amusing that even in my dreams he doesn’t speak in full sentences. It’s a part of him and I’ve accepted it. I even love it. He wouldn’t be Stony without his quirky characteristics.
We eat our breakfast in heavy laden silence, so quiet it’s as if the silence is the third entity in the room. I can’t compete with silence. She’s a fierce enemy in this household.
“Are you angry with me?” I question. Usually when someone is this quiet, they’re upset about something.
“Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. You’re so quiet. It makes me think you’re upset about something.”
“You’ll know it when I’m angry.”
“Oh.” I actually find myself wishing to see him angry. At least then he’d be showing some kind of emotion.
“Are you scared of me, Spencer?” he asks.
Petrified. Absolutely filled with terror.
But not for the reasons he thinks. A full sentence from him leaves me tingly. And the sound of my name on his lips makes me light headed. Is this what normal people feel all the time? If so, how do they survive it? My emotions are off the charts. I should’ve checked my hormones at the door. I swallow, glad he thinks it’s just fear. “Do I look scared?”
“Wrong word. Maybe not scared. Just . . . unsure.”
I am unsure, very unsure of him. “I’m a cautious person, but I don’t scare easily. I think I can handle more than the average person.”
He sits back in his chair, looking interested. “Really? How so?”
I hope I don’t bore him to death with talk of my profession. “I’ve been in a room where the other person threatens to kill me just for standing in the same room as them.”
That gets his attention. “Where was this?”
“My job in California, before I moved to Texas.”
“What did you do?”
“I worked as a psychiatric technician for several years. I worked at what is essentially a halfway home for psychiatric patients. When they’re released from a psychiatric facility, they’re sent to a group home with twenty-four hour supervision. The goal is to prepare them to be released into society, but most will never be released. They’re too far gone.”
“And randomly threaten to kill people?”
I think if he ever smiled, that comment would’ve been accompanied by a smile. “On occasion.”
“How do you respond?”
Talking about my job brings on my work persona and I forget about raging hormones that have just woken up after a long winter’s nap. “I ask them if they have a plan for how they will do it and if they can tell me, I’m required to call the police and evacuate myself and the other patients from the house. I’ve only had to do that once. Most of the time it’s just something they say to get a rise out of someone. I’m used to it.”
“That’s not a good thing.”
“I suppose not. It’s strange,” I add casually. “Sometimes they even think I said something to them when I didn’t.”
He doesn’t respond or assure me that what I heard last night was actually him. He doesn’t even blink. I swallow and hide my disappointment. I really did dream his words.
Maybe this experience has affected my mental balance. Apparently I’m hearing voices. Stony’s voice, to be exact. His gaze is unwavering as usual, so I move on.
“Most of the patients are heavily addicted to coffee and cigarettes because they’re legal and readily available to them. When they were admitted into the psychiatric hospital they couldn’t get to their illegal addictions and swapped them out for what they could get. The mentally ill are highly susceptible to addiction.”
“It doesn’t sound like an easy job.”
“It’s not a walk in the park, that’s for sure. I can honestly say my life ha
s been threatened by someone because they couldn’t have more coffee.”
“Sounds like half the population in the morning.”
I smile, enjoying his quiet humor. “This is after they’ve had their fair share of coffee for the day. They can drink water anytime, but coffee and soda are limited or they’d drink so much it would adversely affect their health. I mean, to the point of hospitalization. They’re like small children left unattended with a huge bowl of candy. They will eat it all and they don’t care about the consequences.”
“Wow.”
“I know, it’s hard to believe. They have no self-control. I find myself saying things I never thought I’d say. I’ve actually had to remind someone that, no, you may not use the couch as a toilet or no, it’s not okay to go outside naked. I’ve had to explain that it’s not okay to rub your roommate’s leg while he’s sleeping or that it’s not okay to accuse the lady at the cash register of stealing your poetry. I’ve also had to remind the patients that the people pictured in the reflection of the TV screen are not people who are secretly watching you, they are actually the reflection of all the people in the room and to not worry about it, you are not experiencing hallucinations.
“Every time we go out of the house, I have to remind people on the streets to please not give them money because they are not homeless, even though they sometimes beg for money as though they are.”
In all actuality, it’s heartbreaking to see people behave in this manner. But I decided to take a humorous approach in the hope of seeing Stony smile. Besides, the actual stories that occur while doing a job like mine are considered confidential and I can’t share them. It would be violating the patients’ rights.
No smile appears, but he does raise his eyebrows. At least it’s something. “Do you like your job?”
“It’s a thankless job, kind of like raising temperamental teenagers who will never grow up. But I enjoy helping those that can’t help themselves. Many of their stories are very sad. There’s a reason why they’re mentally unstable. They’ve had tough lives and it’s surprising what abuse can do to an individual. My goal is to help integrate them into society. I have to teach them how to be independent and productive. I help them plan weekly menus, take them grocery shopping, help them budget, teach them to clean the house, and even remind them to shower daily. If no one was there to guide them, they’d sleep all day or wander aimlessly.”
