Truth of a Dream_Passion, Vows & Babies

by Shari J. Ryan

  "He should have a little more respect for you," Dale says without cracking a smile. "Phobias are no joke." Funny. Everyone seems to think they are. The only person who seemed to understand the difficulty I have with them is Mom, but it's because she had them too. The doctors said it was genetic.

  "I'm fine," I assure him.

  I don't think my assurance is doing much. He's looking at me like I just became his new favorite project and I'm not interested.

  Chapter Five

  "Ant Mary, mind if I borrow Haley for a bit?" Dale says, taking my arm and pulling me closer to him.

  "By all means, take her out for dinner!" Mary exclaims with a snicker she's trying to hide.

  Dale doesn't ask me to go out for dinner. He doesn't say anything at all as he leads me out the front door and for some reason, I'm completely mesmerized by this encounter that I don't fight the control.

  The moment we reach the driveway, Dale turns me around to face him and takes my hands. "Do you know why you have phobias?" he asks me.

  At first, I want to respond like I would respond to Brad, but the serious inflection in his voice tells me he has a more defined reason for requesting my answer.

  "Not exactly," I tell him, feeling more embarrassed that he knows about my phobias. I hardly know him. We hardly had a chance to start anything on the right foot before it got tarnished with my baggage.

  "I do," he says. "I have phobias too and it's the main reason I went into psychology."

  Maybe he's saying all this to make me feel better, but that's a pretty big lie if he's making it up. "What are your phobias?" I ask him.

  He continues walking, pulling me with me until we reach his car, which he opens the passenger side door of. "Hop in."

  Without question, I slide in. I should question him and his motives. He's weird. He's hot, but he's weird. I'm weird. Maybe that's what this is. Weird people attract one another.

  He drops down into his seat and his car silently purrs before pulling away from the curb. "Where are we going?"

  "Somewhere we can talk," he says.

  "What's wrong with your car?" I ask.

  "It's not where I want to talk." Mary wouldn't send me out with her nephew if he was unstable. I just wish I understood why I hadn't heard her mention him before. Mom and Mary were friends for so long but he never came up in conversation. Not that was in all of their conversations, but I feel like I would have heard of him at some point.

  We pull into a sight-seeing lookout viewing area. This town has a few of these since it's perched on top of a hill, but I've only come to this one a few times throughout my life. I guess when you live near nice sights, you don't feel the need to see them all the time.

  Dale turns off the ignition and steps out of the car, so I follow, meeting him in front where there's a bench. "Have a seat," he tells me.

  "Is this like some kind of therapy session?" I ask him.

  "No, it's a date," he says.

  "Well, your voice sounds like a therapist's voice, and I don't remember agreeing to a date tonight."

  "Haley, please, would you sit down next to me?" he asks a little sweeter this time, dropping down onto the wooden bench first.

  Still feeling hesitant, I stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out what's going through his head, but I can't read minds, so I probably won't get much more insight standing than I will by sitting.

  I sit down next to him and uncomfortably fold my arms over my chest and cross my legs. "It's pretty here," I offer as a way to sidestep whatever psychoanalysis he was planning to try on me.

  "Have you ever walked past someone, stopped and this overwhelming feeling that you knew them or you were supposed to know them?" he asks.

  I shrug. Besides feeling attraction for someone, I haven't stumbled by a random person thinking I should know them. "Not really."

  "Okay," he says with a sigh. "Haley, I don't know how to say this without completely freaking you out."

  "Well, I'm already freaked out right now by just your statement, so you might as well get it over with now."

  He twists his body to look at me and peels my arms away from my chest as if it's a natural occurrence for him to be touching me.

  "Do you feel that?" he asks.

  His hands are covering mine. They're large enough to consume mine and warm compared to the chill I felt before he touched me. "I—"

  He closes his eyes briefly and snickers as if he's suddenly embarrassed. "So, my phobia has been about dying alone someday."

  "That's not a real phobia," I tell him. "All single people feel that way."

  "No, it's different," he says. "I can always imagine what my future might be like if I take certain actions or make particular decisions. You know, like daydreaming. Everyone does that."

  "Yeah, so?" I ask.

  "Well, anytime I tried to think of a future where I'd be settled down and have a family, nothing would come to mind. I couldn't imagine anything of the sort. I could only see myself being lonely, old and alone.."

  I feel bad for him. Why would anyone assume something so awful? "That's kind of sad, Dale. You shouldn't think that way. But, why would that freak me out?"

  "Do you think your phobias have something to do with your past or future?"

  I shrug again because I truly don't know where my stupid phobias came from. "I don't know."

  "How old were you when your dad left?" He asks. Did I tell him Dad left us?

  "Six. Why?"

  "What's your earliest memory?" he continues while staring into my eyes with so much depth, I'm being desperate to know what's going through his head.

  "I don't know. I guess maybe when he left us." It was a terrible day, one that sent mom on a year-long depression. Brad and I had to do a lot of work around the house at young ages because Mom wasn't well, and it always stuck out in my head, but not much before then.

  "Have you seen your dad since then?" he asks.

  "No, Dale, I haven't. I really don't want to talk about him, though."

  "I'm sorry," he says.

  "It's okay. I just never feel great when he gets brought up and I'd rather him stay where he belongs." Not in my life. "I'd much rather focus on what's going to freak me out."

  "I asked you to marry me, Haley," he says.

  I shake my head and my heart flops around at the same time. "I'm sorry, what?" I feel like laughing but why is he so serious right now?

  "I lived with Mary for a while when I was a kid. We were neighbors before you, your mom, and Brad moved away."

  "Oh," I say. "You asked me to marry you when we were kids?" That's kind of adorable. I knew him, though, that's not adorable. How come I can't remember him.

  "I did. I was a smart kid," he says with a smirk.

  "I guess so," I tell him while wrapping my hair around the back of my ear.

  "I wouldn't say I'm freaked out, but a little sad I don't remember you. Though, it does make sense why my mom and Mary were so close."

  "I wanted to save you," he says.

  "From what?" I laugh. "Brad? I probably asked you to save me from him. Most annoying brother in the world—was and still is."

  "Yeah," he says, dropping my hands down to my lap. "Haley, I tried to forget about you when you moved and then when I moved, but you've always had a spot in the back of my mind. I never planned to come back to the east coast, but when I decided to come back, I needed to know how you were doing. When Mary told me you worked with her, my childhood feelings of love for my best friend came rushing back with excitement. Then I saw you—"

  Maybe he has some crazy crush on me as a five-year-old, but I'd remember him if we had a friendship that close. I would have had to. This makes no sense and I'm getting freaked out by this conversation. Like he said I would.

  "Dale, this is all a little weird for me."

  "I still think I'm supposed to marry you," he says.

  And it's official. I'm done. "Can you take me back to your ant's please?"

  "Haley, please listen to me,"
he begs. How does a psychopath look so normal? That's scary. This is scary. No one could hear us if I screamed right now. I should have known when I questioned the look on his face at lunch. I shouldn't have followed him out here. I knew better. But it's Mary.

  "I listened to you, Dale. I heard everything you just said."

  "Okay, I'm—I'm real sorry for stressing you out. Come on, let me take you back."

  I take the opportunity to get into his car while somewhat debating if I should walk. It would take me an hour in the dark edge of the woods but I might be safer. I buckle my seatbelt as he's climbing in. "I'm not going to hurt you. I should have waited, but then I would have been withholding information and that never works out well."

  I choose not to respond. I don't want to engage in any further conversation with him right now.

  The ten-minute drive feels like an hour filled with awkward stares and someone breathing over my shoulder in a dark room. My heart is pounding so hard it's hurting my chest and I don't understand any of this. Why me?

  I'm thankful Brad and I took our own cars here. I don't want to make this scene worse than it already is. I get right into my car and take off quickly to avoid looking back at whatever Dale must be doing right now.

  I'm in a daze the entire way home and hardly remember the steps I took to make my way from the car and into my bedroom.

  Why does this shit happen? I didn't ask for this. God forbid a good looking guy has interest in me because evidently, this is the way it needs to turn out. He probably convinced Mary he was her freaking nephew. Jesus.

  I strip my clothes off and climb into bed, tossing my phone onto my night table. I hit the lights and cover my blanket over my face.

  Chapter Six

  Just like every other night of my life, tonight is no different. Falling asleep is impossible, especially now with my mind spinning around everything Dale said tonight.

  I'm still awake when Same meanders in around midnight. God knows where he was or what he was doing. As much as I don't want to hear what he has to say, I want to know if he remembers Dale. I need to know.

  I clamber out of bed and rub at my eyes as I walk down the cold tiled floor in the hallway. "Brad?" I croak.

  "Yeah," he answers from the kitchen.

  "I have a question for you."

  "No, I wasn't at the bar."

  "That's not my question, jackass."

  "I know. Your question is about Dale," he says. I walk into the kitchen, watching him chug orange juice right from the carton. He knows it pisses me off, which is why he does it, but it's not first on my list of things to complain about right now.

  "What's my question about Dale?" I ask him.

  “It’s whether or not I remember him."

  I guess he hit the nail on the head, which is abnormal for him. "Yes, that's my question, actually.”

  Brad leans back against the counter, dropping his arms down by his side, the carton of juice dangling from his hand. "Haley, I know we don't talk about shit that happened before Dad left, but I thought it was because neither of us wanted to talk about it. Do you remember what happened?"

  His question, as mature as it is for him is making my chest ache. "He left us," I tell him as if it were that simple. It is that simple to me. He left us. What else is there?

  "Yeah, he left us. He left us because there was a restraining order placed against him by a court's ruling. Department of Child Services threatened to have us taken away from Mom too if she didn't have him removed from our house."

  I close my eyes and blink a few times, hoping I'm asleep and just experiencing a nightmare. "I don't understand."

  "He beat the shit out of us, Haley. How can you not remember any of this? The week all the shit went down, he broke your arm, gave you a black eye and caused you to get twenty stitches under your chin.”

  “What? What do you mean? What happened?” I’m feeling around my face for proof because I don’t believe him.

  “Jesus, I thought you would have remembered. You were acting up at the shopping mall and you back-talked him in the elevator. When the door opened, he hit the close button and held you there until the doors closed on you a few times. They didn’t have the same sensor crap in the doors that they do now, or at least not at that mall. You were fighting to get away. He held me back from helping you. It wasn’t pretty, Haley." Elevators. That’s why…

  I'm not sure I'm even breathing right now. He's lying. I'd remember. Of course, I'd remember something like that. It didn't happen. "Why would you say something like that? You can be a real asshole, you know that?"

  "You can think what you want, Haley. I'm not going to rehash everything just to convince you that we had the worst childhood most kids couldn't dream of. It is what it is."

  "You can't just leave me with that," I hiss, grabbing the dishrag from the front of the over and whipping it at him. "That's why I'm so fucked up isn't it? Why the fuck can't I remember anything, Brad? Why?"

  "I didn't know you couldn't remember," he says sincerely.

  "Then why would you go through life making fun of my phobias?" I suddenly hate my brother, the last standing person in my family, and I don't understand how he could try to hurt me after knowing what we had been through.

  "It has always pissed me off, Haley. We went through the same shit, yet you can't live a normal life while I carry on like nothing happened with those fucking fears and phobias stagnant in my head all the time. Just because I don't act them out, doesn't mean it doesn't reside in my head. I've wanted you to be stronger than the phobias and fears because you're feeding Dad what he wanted from us. I don't want that for you. That's why. Okay? Sorry if it was an asshole way to be, but I don't know how else to be. There isn't exactly a set of directions explaining how to grow up after being physically assaulted for five years during your childhood. So, forgive me."

  Brad opens the fridge and drops the juice container inside before letting the door slam shut. He walks by me and heads down to his room, thrashes that door closed too.

  Tears don't come with a warning and my eyes fill up so quickly, I can hardly see in front of me. Everything inside of my body hurts and I don't know where the pain starts or ends because it's consuming.

  I slowly make my way back to my room and fall onto my bed within the darkness.

  The wall in front of me blurs as I try to remember, but there is truly nothing. Do I want to remember?

  Chapter Seven

  I'm not late for work today. That's a first. I take the elevator, breathing through my fear. I walk in past Mary because I don't know what to say to her. She knows everything too. She must. Everyone knew, except me. Yet, I feel the need to find proof. Proof that would open up a hole in my heart that may never close again.

  "Haley," Mary says quietly. "We need to talk."

  "No, no we don't."

  "Yes, we do." She follows me into the back room where I hang up my coat and purse. She closes the door behind us and the tension builds because I don't like being confined.

  "You knew too, I assume?" I ask her.

  "Haley, no one thought you didn't know," she explains. "There was no reason to bring up the past, sweetie."

  "It's kind of hard to believe when I don't remember anything," I tell her.

  "It's a blessing that you don't remember, Haley."

  "Great, so now what?" I ask her while crossing my arms over my chest in need of warmth to fill the chill creeping through every nerve of my body.

  "That's up to you, sweetie," she says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Can I tell you something, though?"

  I don't agree or disagree, knowing she'll tell me anyway. It takes less than a few seconds for her to start talking. "You and Dale were as close as two kids could be. You were best friends. You even pretended to get married in my backyard because you had asked him to protect you forever, and he agreed."

  "We were children," I tell her.

  "People are placed into your life for a reason, Haley. Maybe, when you don't need them anymore
, they go away, but when you do need them, they come back. No one will ever understand life's plans, but sometimes we have to just go along for the ride."

  "Maybe I'd feel better if I remembered Dale, but I don't. So, he's a stranger to me. Even if I did remember him or his name at least, we were children then."

  "I understand," she says, squeezing my shoulder. "I'm sorry for causing you any pain. It was never my intention. I thought you would recognize him and be thrilled to see your old friend. I didn't realize you had forgotten."

  "Okay," I tell her.

  I'm gripping at my blouse, pulling it away from my neck, needing air, needing to squeeze something, and feeling a heat run through my skin. "I'll let you be for a minute," she says.

  Chapter Eight

  Two weeks have come and gone, in which time I have spent every night searching the internet for information to fill in my blanks. There's nothing, and I don't know how to accept it all.

  I've also done a great job at avoiding Mary's question and Brad, who has been working whenever I'm not working since the bar's shifts are almost every night. I used to crave being alone, having all the space in the world to myself, but now I feel lonely and lost. I feel so many things that I don't know how to cope with, but I will continue moving forward because my life has been hard and I've survived thus far.

  It's five-thirty and everyone has left the office already, which gives me the peace and quiet to focus on shutting everything down for the night. I take my coat and purse from the back room and quietly slip out the front door, turning quickly to lock up.

  "Hi," I hear.

  His voice is soft so it doesn't scare me, especially since I'm most likely one of the only people left in the building at this point.

  "Dale? What are you doing here?"

  "I found something yesterday and I sat with it for hours debating on whether or not it would hurt you or help you." I can only assume Mary has filled him in on everything I know and don't remember since I left him high and dry the night we went out. In any case, if he has anything to help me recall just a moment before Dad left, I would be grateful to attach a sense of reality to just one small memory.