The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted

by J. A. Schreckenbach

  Dylan chuckled and reached up and tenderly swept away some hair from Aimee's sweaty forehead. “Well, a person doesn’t have to see heaven to know it exists. You’re my heaven. I know you’re the most beautiful person alive…”

  “But, Dylan…”

  “No buts. I believe, no, I know we were meant to be together…forever.”

  She stared at him, speechless, too confused to answer…too scared to commit. He didn’t know her. Not really. She wasn’t worried about the things he knew about her. She was scared to death about the one thing he didn’t know about her. But she loved him, too, and she needed him, as much as the oxygen she needed to breath. So instead of telling him the truth she knew would drive him away, Aimee lied. “Dylan, I’m a…uh…well, a complex person. I’m like a magnet for trouble. In the few short months we’ve been dating, I have had like how many weird things happen, like a half dozen or so, right? A couple even put me in the hospital. Look, I love you with all my heart, but I don’t think I’m the best person for you.”

  He immediately put his finger up against her lips. “Shhh…shhh…don’t say that. You’re perfect, and besides, I don’t think I have a choice. I told you already. It’s like you’ve casted a spell over me. So see, no choice. I guess it’s you and me…forever…as long as you will have me.”

  “But, Dylan, I’m warning you. I’m not sure you should love me.”

  “Why not? Because you had a breakdown a few years ago that left you with a bit of a mysterious past? I can imagine it was pretty rough, and it’s hard to talk about. If you wanna tell me about it, I’m ready to listen, but nothing you tell me will make me change my mind or drive me away.” He propped his hand against the tree over Aimee's shoulder as he leaned into her, then studied her face waiting for her to spill her gut about her crazy past. Aimee shook her head, drew in a deep breath, and looked into his dark eyes.

  “It is hard to talk about, and it was rough. Awful. Someday I might share what I can remember, and I’m sure Dad or James could tell you their stories about that time. But there’s more to this than that. I’m just saying my life is, well, complicated, and I don’t know if you should love someone who has as much baggage as I do.”

  Dylan took her hands. “Aimee, nothing that you have to tell me will make a difference. I wish you could believe me. I can’t change how I feel. I’ll deal with anything you tell me, as long as you love me.”

  She looked into his eyes. He was waiting to hear the three words that told him how she felt. Nothing else mattered to him but those three words. Finally she said, “I love you.”

  Dylan leaned in and kissed Aimee sweetly, tenderly, then softly replied, “I love you more.”

  Aimee could feel the Don’t look at me wrong or I’ll just cry mood kicking in. She was so friggin’ happy. Why do I want to cry? She remembered the reasons…both of them. One she couldn’t let him know, and the other she somehow needed to so he wouldn’t be so totally bummed late Saturday night when they got to the cabin.

  “So, are you ready to finish our run?” Dylan asked as they started walking slowly. All she could do was nod and smile feebly. She would tell him later.

  On the way back they had to pass by Chelsea's house. Aimee cringed. She hadn’t called Chels back yet. She guessed she was avoiding it because she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep her mood swings in check. Chels was packing, getting ready for the big move to New York. Aimee didn’t understand why she was in such a friggin’ hurry to get the heck out of Medford, but Chels was leaving next Wednesday to head to the Big Apple and start her totally awesome life working at some fabulous modeling agency and going to college. Aimee sighed heavily. Chels was going to experience the bright lights and fast pace of the most famous big city on earth. In a way Aimee was jealous. She was moving to Eugene, where it was dreary a lot, and certainly not as much to do as New York City, but she loved it in Oregon. And besides, Aimee wanted to be wherever Dylan was. So, as they were jogging past her house, Aimee glanced over and spotted Chels through the front bay window. Chels didn’t see her though, so she pushed a little harder and sped by. Their good-byes would come soon enough.

  As they raced up the driveway, Dad was easing his truck into Reverse. He shifted it into Park and waited for Aimee. She and Dylan stopped at his window.

  “Good run?” he asked.

  “Dad, you should have gone with us.”

  “Yeah, I should have. Well, maybe next time. I’ve gotta go. I’m gonna be gone until late tonight. I need to get as much done today since Lauren will be coming tomorrow. I’ll waste the whole day going to Portland and back to pick her up. Hell, I don't understand why she doesn't fly into Medford, or at least rent a car and drive down.”

  “Well, probably because she doesn't have the money. Dad, I’ll go for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, sure. I don’t have anything planned tomorrow until five when I have to go into work, so I have all day. Besides, it’ll give us some time together to visit since I’ll be gone with Dylan most of the time Aunt Lauren is here.”

  Dad looked up at Dylan. The two traded stares, then he looked back to Aimee. “Well, that would really help. I appreciate it. Besides, your Aunt Lauren can really get on my nerves. Four hours of listening to her prattle on is like torture…”

  “Dad!” Aimee popped him playfully with her hand. He grinned, then continued, “Well, I have a lot to do so I’ll still be late coming home. Will you make sure the house is clean and ready for company? James and Sacha will be coming in, too, tomorrow night. You know I would help, but you’re so good at it.” He smiled, put the truck back into Reverse, then started to ease his foot off the clutch.

  “Yeah, sure Dad. I’ll get it ready for the white glove inspection.”

  “Bye, you two. Dylan, make sure she behaves, son.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dylan answered.

  As they were pulling their shoes off at the backdoor, Aimee asked, “Dylan, how about your family, are they coming in for graduation?”

  Dylan continued to rip his socks off and tossed them into the washer in the utility room, then headed for the kitchen to get some water.

  “Yeah, well, Dad is coming for the day, then he has to fly out Sunday morning for some big friggin’ business deal he’s doing overseas. And Kara is flying in for the weekend. Mom's parents are coming, but Dad's mom lives in Arizona and can't travel, and no uncles or aunts are coming.”

  How sad, she thought. Aimee felt sorry for Dylan. Here he had everything in the world, everything, that is, except for a dad who would spend enough time with his one and only son. Aimee guessed having all the money in the world didn’t matter if it kept you from enjoying the one thing that was truly important…family.

  “So, I’ll finally get to meet your dad?” Aimee asked as she slid up next to him at the kitchen sink.

  “Yeah, I guess. He’s taking all of us out to eat after the ceremony. He invited you, too, that is if you would like to come. I mean I know you'll have family coming, too.”

  Aimee hugged Dylan's sweaty body and answered, “Sure, I would like that. I think we can plan our family celebration before graduation, or maybe Sunday when we get back. I think James and Sacha will be here until late Sunday evening.”

  “Well, cool. You’ll finally get to meet the infamous Greg Townsend and see for yourself what an ass my old man is.”

  “Oh Dylan, I’m sure your dad isn’t as bad as you say. How could he be such a tyrant and give birth to such an incredibly perfect son?”

  “Because I fortunately got all of my mom’s genes. He’s all right, I guess, but just be prepared for the third degree. Dad’s a control freak, and he wants to make sure no one gets in the way of his star son’s athletic career, and if he thinks you might interfere, he’ll try to make sure you don’t.”

  Suddenly, Aimee wasn’t positive she really wanted to meet Dylan’s dad. She had a bad feeling she couldn’t meet his standards.

  Hoping to change the conversation, Aimee asked, “Hey,
you hungry?”

  “Not really. I ate before I came over this morning, but I could use a shower. Mind if I go first?”

  Aimee snatched an apple from the fruit bowl and took a bite. “Sure, help yourself,” she answered as she chewed.

  Zonker scratched at the backdoor. Aimee went to let him in. Within seconds she could hear Dylan singing loudly from the shower. She giggled and picked out some clothes off the dryer, then slid into her bedroom. She peeked out the window. The street was bare except for Dylan’s FJ and the Perkins' old minibus parked along the curb. Aimee shut the blinds tightly. She pitched her shoes under the bed, scrounged in her drawer for some underwear, grabbed her clothes, then strolled out into the hall to wait at the bathroom for her turn. In a couple minutes Dylan opened the door. Steam hit her like a furnace. Dylan stood towel drying his hair. Except for a pair of basketball shorts, his amazing buffed body was indecently exposed. She bit her bottom lip and took in his incredible beauty.

  “Hey, did you leave me some hot water?” Aimee finally asked.

  “Enough.” He smirked, kissed her quickly, then eased by heading for her room.

  “Geez, thanks,” Aimee answered as she watched him waltz by, his muscles rippling from every angle. She shook her head trying to gain control of her senses, then slid into the bathroom quickly and shut the door before she lost them again. A cold shower, that’s what I need! But her shower did nothing to chase away her wandering thoughts. She couldn’t help how she felt. Women with PMS have often been accused of psycho behavior, but she didn’t want to kill, or even cry right now. Aimee knew the magic of Saturday night was probably not going to happen, but why wait for another chance? She didn’t want to wait, and she didn’t think Dylan would mind moving up their plans a couple days.

  So Aimee combed her wet hair and wrapped a towel around it. Put deodorant on. Flossed, then gargled. Brushed her teeth. Gargled again. Sprayed on some of the expensive cologne Aunt Lauren had given her, the one that Dylan loved. Finally, she unwrapped the towel from her head and tossed it under the sink, took a deep breath, then headed au natural to her room.

  The door was open about a couple inches. Aimee stopped suddenly, took a deep breath, then pushed it open enough for her to slide in, shut the door and locked it. Dylan sat at her PC, cruising intently through the Internet. He didn’t look up. She took another deep breath and quietly slipped up behind him. He glanced up into the mirror, and then like he had whiplash he jerked around and peered up into Aimee's face with his mouth forming a big “O”. His delicious, chocolate eyes told Aimee everything she so wanted to see.

  “Aimee…” he started with a quiet, but surprised tone. A smile quickly emerged.

  She put her finger against his lips. Aimee softly interrupted, “Shhh…you were right, but only half right. We’re perfect. And this moment…this moment is totally perfect.” Her voice was steady, but every cell in her body trembled. Dylan slowly raised up and drew Aimee tenderly into his body. Aimee whispered, her eyes searing ardently into his, “I love you.”

  Dylan answered, his voice barely audible, “I love you more.”…

  …Aimee cradled her head on Dylan’s chest. His face rested against her hair, and his fingers twisted gently through her fingers. He guided Aimee's hand up to his lips and kissed each finger. She could feel the beating of his heart. It had been perfect, like she had always dreamed it would be.

  “I love you,” she whispered, looking up into his face. His eyes twinkled like stars.

  He whispered back, “I love you more.”

  Suddenly her phone vibrated on the nightstand. Aimee started to reach for it, but Dylan stopped her hand.

  “No, don’t answer it. I’m not ready to have this end. I want you to stay here like this…forever.”

  Her out-of-kilter world was finally turning upright on its axis.

  **********

  “Hey, you two, smile!” bubbled Chels, then she snapped their picture without waiting for them to pose. They were free, finally out of East Medford. The graduation ceremony had just ended, and the crowd of people was slowly escaping the auditorium. A sea of caps and gowns waved wildly in the mass chaos. Dylan and Aimee had made it to his FJ ahead of the rest of their families. They were tangled together in each other’s arms while they waited for Dylan's dad to finally break away from the group of coaches and teachers he was chatting with. It didn’t look like they were going anywhere fast. His dad had an attentive audience, and the more time he spent gabbing with others, the less time he had to submit Aimee to an inquisition.

  “Hey, I have to go,” Chels shouted excitedly, and she took off quickly to catch up with Travis and Courtney. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Hey, Chels, the picture,” hollered Aimee.

  Chels turned around for a second, but kept walking backwards. “I’ll put it online later,” she announced, then she turned and sped up to join their friends. She tossed a wave over her shoulder, and then started directing Travis to move closer to Courtney and wrap his arm around her waist. Aimee heard her order them to smile.

  The rest of the night was totally awesome, well, almost totally. They survived Dylan’s dad’s interrogation about their future plans, and like clockwork mother nature struck, but it didn’t matter. They still spent their night in each others’s arms. The next night after everything settled down, and James and Sacha had left for Eugene, and Aunt Lauren was nestled in bed, and Dad was driving Dr. Morris home, and Dylan was stretched out on Aimee's bed thumbing through a magazine, Aimee finally decided to check online for the picture Chels had taken. She pulled it up and clicked on it. The picture popped open covering the monitor screen. Instantly, her stomach started to roll.

  Perched against the FJ, Dylan had his arms wrapped tightly around Aimee's waist, his lips pressed against her ear. Her blonde hair flowed softly down her back. She stared into the camera, and it captured a smile on her lips, but the smile evaded her eyes. Her crystal blue eyes peered intensely into the camera, only incredibly mysterious eyes were captured. In the far background, to the right side of the picture, a young man, still dressed in his graduation robe was walking by. His back was caught by the camera, and his blonde hair hung in layers to his shoulders.

  Aimee closed her eyes and shuddered.

  Chapter 17 Penny Ante Sleuth

  “Hey, Aimee,” shouted Aunt Lauren through the closed door while she rapped lightly. “Sweetheart, you better get up if you want to get in a run and get ready before we need to head back to Portland.”

  “Okay, Aunt Lauren. I’m up,” Aimee drowsily responded, yanking the quilt back from over her head and peeking out into the bright room with one squinted eye. Zonker quickly jumped up from behind her warm knees, hung his head over her shoulder, and brushed his wiry whiskers against Aimee's cheek. “Good morning, Z Boy,” she greeted in between a yawn and a stretch. Aimee rolled over and reached to scratch behind his ears. “I guess you’re ready to go outside and pee. I need to go, too.” She giggled softly, and then whipped the cover back and slowly raised up and stretched again. Aimee looked at the clock. Nine twenty-three. Holy cow, I haven’t slept this late since forever, she thought as she darted towards the bedroom door to let Zonker out and continue on to the bathroom.

  Last night at dinner Aimee asked if she could take Aunt Lauren to the airport for her flight back to Texas. Dad readily agreed, as did Aunt Lauren. Since she had been too preoccupied with Dylan and their graduation activities, Aimee hadn’t had a chance to really visit with Aunt Lauren. Their drive on Friday from the airport was filled with nothing but nonstop chatter about her graduation and college plans. The drive back would give them time to catch up on gossip about the family. Then they could have lunch before Aunt Lauren boarded her plane later in the afternoon. No telling when she would get to see Aunt Lauren again. Aimee really missed their visits together. Next to Chelsea, she had always been her favorite female confidant, and the closest person she had to a real mother. Out of the two sisters, Aunt Molly, the oldest, and Aunt L
auren, the baby sister, her mom’s most beloved sister, according to Dad, was Aunt Lauren. So if anyone knew Mom and her secrets, Aunt Lauren would be the best source to probe for answers she desperately sought.

  Seeing the picture of Dylan and herself, almost a perfect reincarnation of her priceless photo of her parents, totally freaked her out. The likeness was uncanny. After enduring a sleepless night, Aimee grappled all Monday with the idea of reopening the sacred can of worms and drilling Aunt Lauren about the taboo subject. No way in hell could she talk with Dad. Mom’s death was a topic she had avoided like the black plague for a number of years now, but after her recent encounter with her very undead mother, Aimee now questioned the story she had lived with since she was old enough to ask what happened to her mommy. So, was Mom’s death a diabolical cover up, or was she really losing it?

  Aimee tossed and turned most of Monday night debating with herself about how to discuss her recent paranormal experience with Aunt Lauren without revealing anything about her gift. She didn’t need all of the particulars, just enough details to enlighten Aunt Lauren about her sister’s visit. Finally around three a.m., a voice in the dark said, “Just do it, already.” For some crazy reason Aimee didn’t freak, actually, just the opposite occurred. A strange calmness swept over her, but she decided to wait until their trip to Portland later that day. Talking face-to-face was the only way she was certain to get the truth. Either Aunt Lauren would believe Aimee had completely cracked again or she would break. If she started to sweat and squirm, Aimee figured Aunt Lauren had to be guilty about something. Unfortunately, Aimee feared the worse - a terrible charade that had almost robbed her of her sanity.

  Aimee despised confrontation, and even worse, risking their close relationship, but she needed to know the answer to the hundred thousand dollar question; did her mother really die giving birth to her? And if not, the million dollar question; what really happened?