by B. N. Toler
“Making me have…” I pause, unsure of what to call it.
He stares at me, waiting for me to finish.
“Have seizures or something,” I finish, aggravated.
“How would I do that?”
“You tell me. You’re the magic dead healing dream walker. What other voodoo do you do?” The air between us turns frigid as Rhett’s jaw stiffens and anger advances across his beautiful face.
“Aldo, you are being ridiculous.” He wheels around to head back towards the fence.
“Am I? Do you have any other gifts I don’t know about?” My voice is still raised, and I don’t bother to modify it.
“Just one.” He turns back to me with a choleric glare as his broad body towers over me.
I feel like a field mouse about to be swooped up by a really pissed off hawk, but I stiffen my spine, unwilling to let him see he intimidates me. “Oh? And what’s that?” I put my hands on my hips, planting my feet to the ground.
“I can call it like I see it.” His voice is deep, spiked with spite.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can call an ass an ass.” I blink once and he’s halfway to the fence. Son of a bitch, he’s fast! He slips through the beams of the fence with ease.
I grit my teeth. Did he just call me an ass? My inner self sits on the edge of her seat and nods, yes, obnoxiously waiting for my next move. My tongue short circuits as my brain bombards it with signals to communicate a thousand comebacks at once. I can’t believe he just called me an ass. He’s an ass. The audacity. I stomp towards the fence.
Sarah passes Rhett and bounces towards me on the opposite side of the fence, smiling like she just heard the funniest joke.
“I may be an ass, but you’re a monster!” I yell after Rhett, immediately regretting my words.
He freezes briefly, but continues walking.
“Nice ride?” Sarah chimes, her blue eyes bright with amusement.
“Yeah, it was great,” I hiss, as I slip under the fence between the beams.
“So I heard.” She slips under the fence and grabs Esmeralda’s reigns, speaking softly to her. “You’re not scared of monsters, are you girl?”
I bite my tongue and ignore her. Sarah is mocking me. I can no longer resent her for her cold disposition. She’s entitled to it after everything she went through.
“Come on girl,” she whispers to Esmeralda, who nudges her nose against Sarah softly. Sarah comes off cold to me, but I can see her humanity when she’s with her horses. Makes sense, if I think about it. Humans are complicated. Animals just want love and affection. I see Sarah in a whole new light.
I turn back towards the house, and my breath is taken away. The setting is absolutely beautiful. I may have to create this scene in my dreams. The sky is a rich clear blue and the grass is green and plush. The sun beams down illuminating the farm house that sits simple and quaint in the distance. I’ve traveled many places in my life, seen many stunning sights, but this is in a league of its own. As I walk towards the house, I consider the voices I heard and the flash of my field by the lake. Why is this happening? Am I having a mental breakdown? That makes sense. I think I’m entitled to one after everything, right?
Inside, I walk to the kitchen for some water, and find Mickey standing by the sink still as a statue.
“May I get some water?” I ask quietly.
“Of course,” he says politely, a soft smile spreading across his wrinkled face. I’ll bring your drink with your lunch up to your room, if you would like.”
“That would be nice. Thank you. I need a shower.”
I walk up to my room, wondering if I’ll get water and lettuce for lunch. What I would give for a Coke right now. In my bathroom, I peel off my clothes and look into the mirror. I immediately regret it. I’m a hot, stinky mess. I gaze at myself, twisting my face, imitating Rhett saying, “I can call an ass an ass.” Except Rhett looks like a bitchy weirdo and sounds like Yoda in my impression of him. I continue this conversation, repeating Rhett’s words and then acting out what I wish I had said—of course I look composed and sound normal—Rhett still looks like the Yoda speaking, bitchy weirdo, when it hits me. The crack in the mirror is gone. I rub my hand across its smooth surface. I just touched the crack yesterday. I know it was there. I completely forgot about the cracked mirror and never mentioned it to Sarah or Rhett. They must have replaced it, though. They had to, because I know that crack was there. I shake my head and refuse to allow myself to focus on it anymore. Instead, I turn the faucet on to the shower, but it makes a horrible sound, like someone is hitting the pipes with a hammer. I let it run for a moment, to see if water will start running, but it doesn’t. It just continues to make loud, thumping sounds.
“Great.” Must everything go wrong today?
I grab a folded, white towel off of the towel rack and wrap it around myself.
I walk out of the bathroom and open the bedroom door, to find Mickey standing right outside of it.
I jump, startled by him.
“So, sorry ma’am. I was just about to knock.” He looks away, apparently embarrassed by my lack of clothing.
“No, it’s okay.” I laugh, trying to catch my breath. You just startled me. Please sit the tray on the bed.” I open the door and stand to the side to let him pass by.
“I’m not allowed to enter the bedrooms’ ma’am,” he nods, apologetically.
“Really? Why?”
“I’m just not allowed.”
“Okay… Um… I’ll take it.” I adjust my towel to prevent it from falling and take the tray, but after I sit it on the bed Mickey is gone. I run to the door and shout after him, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to do. My bath tub faucet is funky and won’t turn on. Do I tell Rhett?”
Mickey turns back to me from the top of the stairs. “That bathroom has always had issues. You can shower in the bedroom across the hall. It should work fine,” he smirks oddly and continues down the stairs.
I grab a few things out of the bathroom and head across the hall. The bedroom is much bigger than mine and has blue walls with white linens. I lay my clothes, brush, and makeup on the plush bed, pull my towel off, and walk into a bathroom the size of my bedroom. Made of dark stone tiles, its magnificent décor and design might have warranted attention if not for what stood inside the door-less stone shower. My mouth drops open, and I stand paralyzed, like a deer caught in headlights.
Rhett stands in the shower.
And he’s naked.
Time seems to stand still. My inner self remains frozen, eyes glued to the immaculate being naked before me. Water cascades down his massive, defined back, before descending over the curves of his amazingly exquisite posterior. Somewhere in the distance, a musical epiphany filled with the angelic voices of small children plays, commemorating this moment.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but when he finally notices me, he is equally stunned.
He raises an eyebrow as if surprised and looks around as if taking in the atmosphere and after a moment, he grabs a towel and wraps it around himself. “Aldo, I didn’t hear you knock.” He clears his throat.
That’s because I didn’t.” I manage to speak, even though my mouth is dry as the Sahara desert.
His eyes dart in every direction, but mine until they settle on his feet, and he clears his throat again.
I look down and realize I’m butt-naked. “Oh, my gosh.” I run out of the bathroom, fumbling to wrap around me the towel I’ve been holding in my hand. I grab my stuff off of the bed and start my sprint out of the room.
“Is everything okay, Aldo?” Rhett asks from the doorway of the bathroom, chiseled, wet, with drops of water beaded on perfect skin, his white towel wrapped around his waist.
“Yes, I’m sorry. My shower is broken and Mickey told me I could use this one.” I choke out the words unable to stop staring at him.
“Oh, he did, did he?” Rhett’s lips press together in a flat line as if angry.
“He didn
’t tell me anyone actually used this room.” I turn to go, but he stops me.
“Uh, well I’m done. So it’s all yours.” I quickly pass him, my eyes watching my feet as I walk, and re-enter the bathroom. As I shut the door, he calls, “Wait.”
I open the door and he brings me my hair brush that I left on the bed in my rush. When our hands touch as I take it from him, chills run though me. I avoid eye contact with him. “Thank you.” I squeak out before I shut the door. I lean against the back of the door, yelling at myself in my head. Stupid! I repeat it over and over again. The image of his naked body pops into my head and I smack my forehead with my hand. My inner self quickly pours herself a shot of vodka, but opts to chug straight from the bottle instead, then slams it back down, gasping for air.
I direct my anger at the gentle Asian man downstairs. It’s Mickey’s fault. It really isn’t his fault, but it makes me feel better to redirect my anger. After my shower and skimpy lunch consisting of lettuce and cucumbers, I continue to torment myself over the bathroom incident in Rhett’s room. He must think I’m an idiot.
No he thinks you’re an ass.
Well I feel like one anyway. I decide not to go downstairs and resort to spending the rest of eternity in this room to avoid my humiliation.
I lay down and one vision comes to mind.
Rhett.
Oh…and… he’s naked.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
What is wrong with me? My life is in complete upheaval, must I add lusting after him too? I’m so messed up. Officially, I’m just not right in the head. No wonder I’m having these episodes. I’m obviously in mental distress here. I comfort myself with the thought of, it’s not my fault—I’m just losing it. Even with that reasoning, Rhett keeps popping into my mind.
And he’s still naked.
He must be doing something to me. He has to be. I am not this disillusioned to fall for a guy like him. Yes, he has a kind side and a wicked hot body, but he’s a vampire, by all accounts, and he kidnapped me.
He hasn’t turned you yet, my inner self reminds me.
True, but he wants to. I argue back.
Another thought occurs to me. In all of the movies, vampires can hypnotize humans. That’s it! He’s hypnotizing me! He’s making me want him and be nice to him.
“Really, Aldo?”
Well if it’s not that, what else is it? I argue again.
Maybe, just maybe, you like him.
I cringe at the thought. That isn’t possible. I’m in love with Thomas.
You were in love with Thomas.
No, Thomas is the love of my life. Always has been. I think to myself, annoyed at the accusation that my devotion for Thomas has wavered.
Oh really? He’s really been there for you, huh?
My inner self is getting really bitchy.
He abandoned you when you needed him most.
He just thought I wouldn’t want to be with him because of Lucy.
So why did he leave after he found you a few days ago?
I ponder this a moment. “He left me again,” I whisper to myself. A tear slides down my cheek, and I curl up with my pillow. The truth is I didn’t just lose Thomas a few days ago. I lost him years ago. I cry quietly, numbed by the realization that I’ve been missing a big piece of the puzzle. Thomas never intended to be with me. All of the excuses don’t make any sense. So what is the real reason? I drift off to sleep as my mind turns this over and over again. Only the dark of my dreams fill my mind, but there is sound. Voices. Hudson’s voice?
“Hudson!” I yell through the darkness, but he doesn’t answer. He keeps talking as if he’s having a conversation. I try to make out the words. I hear Whit’s voice, too. They sound upset. But why?
“So you can’t do it?” Hudson asks.
“I don’t know. It’s complicated,” another voice answers.
“It’s been twelve months.” Defeat laces Whit’s tone.
“We never guaranteed we could do this. We said we would try,” a female voice says.
“I’m sorry. We’re not trying to seem unappreciative. We just want her back.” Whit lowers his voice, reining his emotions in.
“You have really tied my hands here, guys. I can’t tell her anything because you want to be the ones to tell her,” another voice says heavily. It’s a male voice.
It’s Rhett.
I strain my eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, but there is nothing but pitch black darkness.
“Fucking, Thomas man,” Hudson growls.
“We don’t know exactly what happened,” Whit tries to calm him.
“Yes we do,” a female voice corrects him. “Look. We’re giving this one more week guys,” she continues.
Sarah?—It’s Sarah.
“Do you think you can do this in a week?” Whit asks.
“I don’t know. What I do know, is Rhett has been working around the clock trying to help her.” The emotion in her voice sounds like concern.
What the hell is going on? Why am I dreaming a conversation between Rhett, Sarah, Hudson, and Whit? Why is Hudson so mad at Thomas?
“I’ll stay as long as it takes,” Rhett says.
“Rhett!” Sarah gasps with disbelief. “You know you could—”
“I know, Sarah!” he shouts, interrupting her.
“Then what?” she questions. “What happens if—”
“It won’t!” he growls.
“Would you guys leave us for a moment?” Sarah asks, and I hear commotion as Whit and Hudson exit.
“What’s going on, Rhett?” Sarah whispers. “We said we would try. We both knew we might not be able to.”
“If we leave, he will return. They are all in danger if that happens.”
“If we get stuck, then we’re all sitting ducks.”
“I can’t leave her, Sarah. I understand if you need to leave. I won’t fault you.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“We can do this, Sarah.”
“I’m not sure we can.”
“I can do this,” he says, ignoring her.
“I hope you’re right.”
“No more shenanigans like the shower bit, okay?” Rhett says firmly.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Sarah snickers.
My subconscious is obviously overwhelmed and failing me, because nothing makes any sense.
“Rhett!” I yell, but they continue talking. I still can’t see anything. I’m in complete darkness. “Rhett!” I yell again.
“Did she—” I hear Sarah begin.
“She said my name,” he interrupts her.
“Aldo?” Rhett’s voice fades as he calls my name.
Suddenly, I’m sucked into another scene. I yell Rhett’s name again and again, but I hear nothing. I look around and realize I am in the living room of our apartment in Florida. I walk down the hall to my room, where Beau’s crib sits against the back wall. As I approach it, small little murmurs fill my ears, much like a baby would make. I peek over the rail of the crib, and Beau smiles up at me. I smile back, but don’t touch him. “What is wrong with me?” I whisper to him. He coos to me and kicks his feet down. He’s almost six now, but he was a baby the last time I saw him so this is how my subconscious remembers him.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” I whisper.
Whit enters the bedroom and looks at me coldly, passing by me to pick Beau up. I can feel the anger and disappointment rolling off of him. That’s how I left Whit. Angry.
“This isn’t your son,” he says agitated.
I stare at him blankly. Where is my subconscious coming from with this?
“Of course he is,” I stammer.
“You’re no mother.”
Tears sting my eyes with his words. He’s right. A real mother wouldn’t abandon their child like I did. I may have given birth to Beau, but I have never been a mother to him.
“I thought you would be gone by now,” he says, bouncing tiny Beau in his arms.
“I’m about
to leave.”
“Well, have a good trip.” He walks by me and exits the room.
“Whit,” I call after him, but he doesn’t return.
.
fourteen
I wake up in my room at the farmhouse, my face clammy and wet with tears. What could my dream mean? Had I absorbed some kind of information from Rhett, or was I having a random dream?
I walk into the bathroom and brush my teeth and eye the mirror again, still in disbelief the crack from this morning is gone.
I go downstairs and I don’t hear anyone stirring, so I walk out onto the porch. The afternoon is absolutely beautiful. The air is warm and dry, so I take my time walking to the barn. The sun hangs just above the tree line in the distance, washing the land in an orange haze. My mind stirs, trying to decipher the conversation I had just dreamed about. When I reach the barn, I walk to Bruno’s stall and pet him apprehensively, when he pushes his large head into my hand.
“I wish I could be a horse Bruno.” I smile at him as if he can understand me. “I’d spend all day in the meadow and run everywhere.”
“It would be fun for a while,” Rhett says from the barn entrance.
I jump, startled by his interruption. He wears a black t-shirt and jeans with flip-flops, and I hold back a gasp at the sight of him. My eyes run up and down him and the image of his wet naked body flashes through my mind before I give myself a mental slap and snap my eyes away.
“It’s gotta be better than being human,” I counter, hoping he didn’t catch the eye rape I just gave him.
“Maybe he wishes he could be human for a day.” Rhett pets Bruno.
“How old are you?” I ask, realizing I never found out.
“Twenty-one.” A wolfish grin spreads across his face.
“You know what I mean.”
“You really want to know?”
I nod.
“Technically, I’m forty-seven.”
“That’s it?” I gawk.
“What?” He laughs.
“I just thought you would be at least a hundred or something.”
“So sorry to disappoint you, Aldo.” He laughs as he turns and walks to the other end of the barn. He opens a small cabinet attached to the wall and pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels.
