by Calinda B
“Come on…” He kissed her temples then brushed his hand along her hair. “Let’s get up.”
“Mm hmmm, I’ll be right there.” Her voice sounded sleepy and soft.
She was clearly not ready to wake up. Smiling, Cam pushed himself off the bed, spotted his keys on the dresser and shoved them in his pocket. Then, he stepped into his shoes, grabbed his wallet and prepared to exit. “Just head out the garden door, okay, babe?” He kissed her on the cheek, inhaling her lavender scented shampoo. He’d missed that, too. Hell, there wasn’t a thing about her that he hadn’t missed.
He walked around to the front where he’d parked his Land Rover. Eyeing the street, he didn’t see Chér’s car anywhere. That was odd. Where could she have parked? There were plenty of spots available at this time of day. Whatever…he got in his vehicle and headed downtown for the High Road Recovery building.
The High Road building was a plain, off-white building with clay roof tiles, arched openings, and a gabled roof, built in Mission Revival style. Cam often thought that it served as a reminder of the kind of weather that was somewhere else – the building looked like it belonged down in San Diego, not here in the cool climes of the Pacific Northwest. Nevertheless, as he trod the shrub and lavender-lined walkway to the front door, his mind was flooded with memories, good and bad, of the time he had spent here so far. His internship here had been a form of self-chosen absolution, as he counseled roomfuls of men court-ordered to participate in non-violence training. It had served a need in him to so something…anything…to help men change their behavior, and hopefully, keep a few women safe. This was where he had met his mentor, James Rayton. This was also where he had met Angela Myers, the woman whom he had both lusted after and despised. He quickly pushed thoughts of her out of his mind. And yet, meeting Angela and following through on his self-destructive impulses, awakened after Chérie remembered her molestation as a child, had brought him full circle here. Now, instead of offering support and counseling to others, he was getting it from Dr. James Rayton.
James was a well-known and respected psychologist in the community. A distinguished African American of average height and build, he had a commanding presence nonetheless. He dressed impeccably and was always in a crisp linen suit or similar immaculate attire. Truth was, though, he could dress in rags and still command respect. There was just something about him…some sort of calm that radiated from the guy. When asked about it, James always replied the same: “If I radiate anything, it comes from hard-won wisdom, faith, and the support of my loving family.” And then he said no more.
Cam always felt safe and supported in his sessions with James. The man could cut to the chase with the precision of a surgeon, but he did it without judgment or expectation. James believed the path to healing was simple – either face yourself or don’t bother looking. Hell, the guy had even seen Cam at his worst – hungover, stinking of booze and tobacco after a bender left him passed out on the sidewalk in the streets of San Diego. Cam figured that if the guy wanted to work with him after that, he’d be in good hands.
Cam sat in the small, austere room that served as a waiting room. Clients were typically ushered into James’ office through one door, and then out the back through another – James took privacy seriously. The chair in which Cam sat was comfortable enough, but did nothing to ease the churning in his gut that was ever present when he came here. He picked up a magazine, skimmed it, put it down. Picked up another, glanced at the cover, set it down... Leaned forward... Stood up... Fished around in his pocket for some gun and popped a piece in his mouth.
At last, the door to James’ office opened. “I apologize, Cameron, I had an emergency to attend to. Please come in.”
“No problem,” Cam reassured him and stepped through the door. The office was tastefully decorated in ocean hues of blue and soft gold, accented with solid, sturdy wood Mission-style furniture. The only adornments on the wall were certificates and licenses testifying to James’ education and degrees, his many accomplishments, and his status as a business owner. Cam sat in the single chair covered with deep gold leather. Sitting on the neighboring couch made him feel alone. This chair suited him just fine, he thought, as he ran his hands along the polished Cherry wood.
James settled into a slightly larger chair and regarded Cam with warmth. “Where shall we begin, Cameron? The last time you were here we started scratching the surface of the anger you carry around.” He reached out to pick up the glass of water sitting next to him and took a sip.
Cam adjusted his seating position. “Yeah…” He said nothing else.
“We can talk about whatever you like, though.”
“Chérie called me…” He paused and gathered his thoughts, like arranging his equipment before a climb. “We went kayaking. It was great.”
James sat, listening intently, waiting for Cam to finish.
“We kinda got…well, I think we’re going to try again.”
“I imagine you are excited about that. I know you really love her.”
“Hell, yeah. I want to do right by her this time. Not fuck…er, screw up.” Cam tried to keep his language clean when he was in here. It sort of felt like being in church…in a good way…not that he knew much about that… He always imagined this was what it felt to walk out of a confessional booth – fresh and absolved of wrong doing. “We hooked…er…were intimate with each other.”
“How was that?”
“Fantastic…it was fantastic…” He drifted out of the room for a moment at the deliciousness of the memory.
James laughed softly. “It appears to me like it was quite special.”
“Sorry…yeah, it was…” He proceeded to share more of their interactions with one another.
When he’d finished, James offered, “I’m glad you are getting another chance at this relationship, Cameron. From our talks together, I know how much she means to you.”
“Yeah,” Cam stated, scratching his arm.
“And now the work gets deeper. Besides providing us with care, comfort, and a stable base, relationships often trigger those places that need our attention. We’ve talked about this.”
“Yeah…well, I want to do right by her like I said…I really do.”
“I imagine you do, Cameron. I’ve told you before, you are a good man, and you want what’s true and good. Still, I suspect that you’ll have opportunities to practice dealing with your anger with Chérie.”
Cam’s leg started to pump up and down in nervousness. “I always tried to keep it in check before.”
“Trying and doing is often not the same thing. You said you thought that you were not always making her feel safe with your outbursts before.”
“No… I mean yes. But she’s different now. Stronger...way stronger…she’s gone through an amazing transformation.” And can now leap, fly, fend off invisible demons, make love like Class 5 rapids, he thought. Cam paused for a few, considering how much he should tell James about the star dreamling. “And I’m different, too. These sessions have helped me.” He stopped talking for a moment and looked at the certificates lining the wall. Then he took a long deep inhalation, blowing the breath out from between pursed lips. “I had a dream I want to tell you about.”
“Go on…”
“I dreamt a giant lynx was after me. And it attacked me whenever I became intimate with Chérie.” That was a good start. Make it sound like a dream. Cam smiled to himself, pleased at his clever ruse.
“Interesting, Cameron…”
“You know I don’t give much credence to dreams and shit like, er, stuff like that, right?”
“Here and now, I believe is your motto.”
“Right…here and now. Anyway in the…in the dream…it wasn’t clear if the cat wanted to destroy me or assist me in some way.”
“I imagine that depends on you, Cameron…on your actions and behaviors.”
“Huh…could be. But what if it doesn’t? I mean what if the lynx has its own agenda?”
“Like if i
t was somehow outside of you?”
“Yeah, like that…like it was a real lynx somewhere that wanted to kill me.”
James’ face expressed surprise. He’d never known Cameron to engage in imaginative wanderings. He looked thoughtful. “If a real lynx was after you, you’d want to protect yourself. But you said this was a dream so, unless you are prophetic, I’d say it has more to do with something about you that needs some work.”
Cam felt apprehensive at having shared this much. He didn’t want James to think he was a nut case. “Okay. Makes sense…let’s get back to the anger topic.”
“Are you sure you’re finished with that topic, Cameron?”
“Yup…sure…”
James became quiet for a moment. “What, exactly, did that dream bring up for you? I believe you’re stonewalling me here.”
Cam’s quick, explosive temper flared to the surface. “It wasn’t a dream. And it brought up…brings up…all the weird shit I don’t believe in. And it fucking pisses me off, that’s what. Chérie and I can’t even…can’t even go there without this fucking dreamling trying to kill me or make its mark or something. Shit.” So much for his nice guy attempt. He bolted to his feet and now was pacing the room like a predator in the zoo. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…he wished he still smoked right now.
“What do you mean it wasn’t a dream?” James asked gently.
“I mean this,” Cam growled, pulling up the leg of his roomy cargo pants. “This is what I fucking mean…”
Upon seeing the angry, yellow-green gashes, James whistled. “You weren’t kidding, Cameron. How did this happen?”
Cam slumped down in his chair. “Shit…it happened the day Chérie called…before she called. I was in the shower. I heard this scratching and then the door flew open, but there was nothing there. You know I don’t give credence to any of this bullshit, right, Doc?”
“I know, Cameron. I know how you feel.”
“So then this fucking nightmare stalks me and Chérie when we are in the woods and bursts out of the trees when we’re…you know…when we’re…”
“Okay, Cameron, I’ve got the picture. When you and Chérie were engaged in intimacy…go on.”
“Right… So this creature flies out of the trees, but we can’t see it. It looks like the heat waves you see on the highway when it’s hot. And the heat wave looks like it’s racing towards us only then it gets stopped by another heat wave.” Cam stopped speaking and ran his hands angrily through his hair. “Jesus Christ, this sounds fucking insane telling you this.”
“It’s okay, Cameron. Take a moment and continue when you are ready.”
Cam took a deep breath to calm down. “Okay. Shit. Well, then when I tried to kiss Chérie in my room the fucking thing did this to me.” He gestured towards his thigh. “And every time I try to engage with her it pulls some shit like this. I feel like I’m going out of my fucking mind.” He stood up and started pacing again.
“Cameron, the paranormal is outside of my scope of practice. I know that many people are subject to delusions about paranormal activity, but some people actually have the experiences that they claim to have. Hence, I know that it exists… And there’s simply no explanation when it gets down to it. I tend to keep a balanced mind when it comes to such phenomena…kind of a maybe yes, maybe no attitude. But frankly I’ve never seen marks such as those on your leg. I can feel the heat coming from them from across the room.”
“No shit?” Cam asked.
“Yes, it kind of feels like heat and cold at the same time… It’s quite remarkable.”
“Glad someone thinks so. I just want to figure out what is going on so I can deal with it.”
“I imagine so,” James concurred.
“My roommate says it’s a star dreamling. He tells me that the ‘Ancient Ones’ – whoever they are – tell of a tribe of people…beings…whatever…who travel the galaxy with their star dreamlings.”
“There are many mythologies amongst cultures on this planet.”
“Apparently, it’s no myth.” Cam sighed. “Fuck. What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to deal with it, Cameron. You’re going to face it. Whether it’s real or imagined, you are going to look it in the eye and deal with it. I’ll be your ally, here, Cameron, you know that. I believe in you. I believe that once you face and truly deal with the darkness inside of you, you’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”
“If I live to tell about it, you mean.”
James did not respond to that statement. “Whatever it is, Cameron, I’ll help you deal with it. But ultimately you’ve got to figure it out on your own. So tell me…does Chérie believe you?”
“Chérie can sense it…feel it…yeah, she believes in it…in me, I mean.”
“She must be something special.”
You have no idea, he thought. No fucking idea… “I’ll say…” Cam guffawed. “Thanks, Doc…thanks, James. I appreciate this. I guess I’m ready to talk about that anger stuff.” He gave a self-deprecating smile.
“We’re almost out of time, Cameron. I was going to give you something, though, that may assist you in dealing with your anger.” He got up and opened the top drawer of the end table next to his chair. “Here…” He extended his hand to Cam, dropping a small, smooth golden orb into his palm. “It’s Cymophane – also known as cat’s eye.”
Cam jerked his hand, almost dropping the stone. “I don’t know, James. Why are you giving me this…this cat eye thing?” He looked at the opalescent stone, marveling at the milky band of light extending along its surface.
“A client gave it to me. He said he got it from a shaman in Peru. The shaman told him it is a stone which has a stabilizing influence on the wearer, opening one to a sense of self-worth and forgiveness. It’s also supposed to make the wearer invisible in battle.” He chuckled. “That might come in handy.” Then he became serious. “The client told me that it was not his stone – he knew that it had been given to him to give to another who needed it. I believe this person is you.”
Cam regarded the stone with suspicion. “Huh…well, thanks.” He rolled it between his fingertips, squinting one eye and observing it with the other eye. Then he closed his palm around it. Sure enough he felt somewhat grounded…the rock seemed to contain warmth…softness, even. It reminded him of holding Chérie. That was an image he could definitely deal with. “Thanks…I mean it,” he offered with more sincerity.
“You are welcome, Cameron. Next time you are angry, try holding the stone and see what happens. Just as an experiment…”
“Okay, Doc, sure…”
“Okay, then…time’s up. I’ll see you next time, then?”
“Yup, you got it, James.”
“Oh…one more thing, Cameron… I almost forgot to mention it. I wrangled a deal with a friend of mine to have you shadow him at the next Teen Wilderness Camp week. I’ll give you a call to fill you in on the details.”
“Good, James, thanks,” Cam said absentmindedly. He got to his feet, reached out and shook James’ hand, and let himself out into the sunny Seattle day.
As Cam strode to his vehicle, he flexed and closed the fingers of both hands into fists over and over like warming up for a fight. He felt angry, agitated, churning with energy. The part about the Teen Wilderness Camp hadn’t even registered in his brain. All he heard was the shit about the star dreamling. Look the star dreamling in the eye and deal with it…ha! As he approached the car he noticed a convenience store up the block. Without hesitation or thought, he made a beeline, walked in, and bought some smokes and a lighter.
After he got back in the car, he tore open the pack, took one out, but did not light it. Instead, he held it between his lips and flipped the little wheel on the lighter until it made a little chit sound and the flame flickered. He inhaled the scent of tobacco and willed himself to not light the cigarette. Chit… Chit… Chit… He moved the flame closer to the smoke until it almost torched the end. As he toyed with the lighter, he
felt powerful…dangerous even…why this feeling was always associated with addiction, he didn’t know. What he did know was that it felt good to feel this powerful, this strong. He thought about how last year when he’d left Chérie and hooked up with Angela, he’d discovered that he’d been keeping something in check around Chérie. He always tried to be tender and caring around her, but his angry outbursts coupled with her shy, delicate nature caused him to repress something primal…something feral…some essential part of his core. Well, she sure wasn’t delicate anymore – she seemed to be surer of herself than he’d ever witnessed. And maybe he had changed too. Chit… Chit… Chit… Damn…this was like playing with the devil. He liked the feeling – like walking an edge…a razor sharp edge…temptation on either side. He rolled down the window and glanced at the clouds forming in the sky. He stared at the water drops starting to sprinkle along the asphalt. Finally, he tossed the lighter on the seat, held the cigarette between his fingers and tore out onto the street.
Chapter 12 – Chérie
When I got back to the house – via buses and lots of walking, mind you – Kayden was lounging on the grass, holding the stem of some plant in his fingers. He always took my breath away. As usual, he looked breathtakingly beautiful, sprawled out and completely relaxed like some wild beast, languorous in the heat of the sun.
“Why didn’t you pick me up?” I started, crossly.
“Hello, to you too, sexy girl. Care to try again?” He patted the grass next to him.
I sighed and plopped on the ground with no grace whatsoever. “Hello, there, beautiful man-like creature. I’m sorry…I just feel like a liar around Cam now.”
“Chère…” Kayden began. He fingered a lock of hair out of my face.
“And you could have picked me up.” I glared at him. “I had to take the bus.”
“I was not asked to do so,” he replied evenly. “Do you think I read your mind?”
I spluttered. “You view me when I have sex with Cam, you pluck thoughts out of my brain when it suits you…yes, and I believe you read my mind when it’s convenient for you to do so.”
