A Toast to Starry Nights (38 page)

“Yes. Worse, even.”

“Was I there?”

I wanted to tell him no, he had no part
in my mind fuck. But I'd be lying.

“You were.” My voice sounded harsh. “We
even got married before it all went to shit.”

“Was I the reason it went to shit?”

“Not at all, but you blamed yourself.
You were as much a victim of circumstance as I.”

“Will you please tell me what happened?”
There were few moments where Dmitri genuinely wanted to get into my head. The
man did not play with shovels, he preferred an excavator.

I have no secrets from this man, and I
won't start hoarding them now. “The day after we got married, you, myself and
what remained of my family tried running before the bad guys showed up. We
didn't make it. My cousin and I were spoils of war, and you a toy.”

“What does that have to do with the
vomiting in public?”

Ohhh. Specific questions, how I try not
be be irked by thee. “The feeling I got right before I puked on you is
identical to the feeling I had in the regression thing when shit it the fan
regarding me being a spoil of war.”

“I'm trying to follow what you are
saying... so the feeling you had was identical to when you threw up on me and
when you saw Mike again?”

I swallowed the knot forming in my
throat. “Yes.”

“But Mike wasn't in your past life?”

I don't know... Landross came across
being a concentrated dose of sadism, more so than Mike. As much as it would
please me to link those who have touched me deeply in my life, good or bad, to
Ona's experience... I just can't reconcile myself to Landross and Mike being
the same. As much a jerk as Mike happened to be, it wasn't the same brand of
pure evil as Landross.

Which brought me to the thought that no
matter how I answer, Dmitri is probably going to end up hurt. He was there, the
good guy was there... but the abusive ex wasn't, the bearer of horrid feeling
conspicuously absent. I know Dmitri was not the reason I hurled chunks. “I did
not recognize Mike there.”

Furrows grew in Dmitri's brow as
puzzlement overtook his face. “So it was me.”

“No! You are not why I got triggered the
way I did... I know that as a fact. I can't explain it, but you are not the
cause.”

“But if Mike wasn't there, and I was...
How could it not be me, then?”

“Because I know it wasn't you that
caused that feeling. Maybe it was just the situation, of being center stage
with everyone looking at us.”

“Why would that do it? Won't we be
center stage at the wedding? Should I wear a rain slicker instead of a tux?”

“Do you plan on handing out tarps to the
front row guests? Because I don't plan on hurling, would hate for them to feel
they got shafted at a Gallagher show.” I'm trying to be serious with Dmitri.
Him taking things lightly started to piss me off so I resorted to sarcasm
instead of bitchiness. Already emotionally wound up from the session with
Neilsinhaur, then with the whirlwind planning via Jet... somehow mentioning
details of the past life such as Padraic raping Ona atop a table while invading
Englishmen looked on, just seemed a shoddy thing to do.

“I don't know what I'll do, Kay. I mean,
you don't really care about the wedding... you say I was in your past life but
Mike wasn't, but it wasn't me that instigated your upset stomach. So far, as I
see it, the common denominator is me.”

I couldn't refute a single word he threw
my way. Dmitri was right.

“Just so we're on the same page, I care
more about the marriage than the wedding. Maybe it's me, maybe I”m silly,
perhaps even cracked. I want to make everyone happy, Dmitri. Especially your
folks. You've broken a few traditions already, and when you marry me and we
don't have any kids, that'll be one more cultural custom thrown to the wind.
For me, what makes me happy in all this, is that the wedding serves as a
gateway into the wide world of marriage. A fraction of what the main event
is... so why should I get preoccupied with a tiny moment in the scale of things
when there's so much more to look forward to experience with you?” I shrugged
my shoulders. “I'm odd. I know. Pretty sure you knew that when you signed on
for this train wreck.”

Note to self: bad choice of words.

“Train wreck? Us getting married is a
train wreck?”

“No. Me. I'm a train wreck waiting to happen.
Thought you knew.”

“What the fuck did that shrink do to
you? Few days ago you had a color scheme and destinations picked out. Now you
could give less than half a shit. I hate to break it to you, Kaylis, but men do
look forward to their wedding, too. It's not just a mainstream female thing.”

It felt like he was attacking me, it put
me on defensive. “Oh, you could have fooled me. Thought the comment you made
about telling you when and where so you could show up indicated that the
details didn't really count and just us getting hitched mattered. Silly me for
not reading your mind.” I gestured to the tarot cards still laid before me.
“And damn these things for not telling me you wanted to help pick out the
flowers.” Irked, I began scooping them up to put back in their pouch.

“I want to know what happened to you,
Kaylis. Something has changed. How can I understand if you won't tell me?”

I looked him straight in the face and
asked, “You really want to know? Because I can guarantee you will not like it.
And maybe you can just stow the knowledge away and be fine... but I can't.” I
picked up the composition book and flashed Dmitri the dozen or so pages of
angry writing. “The therapist gave me this so I could purge myself, try to make
sense of things. Because... it sucked.”

Dmitri grasped both my hands with his.
“I want to know. If it affects you, then hell yes, I want to know.”

So I told him. First in detail about the
two childhood dreams. Then blow by blow of what happened in Neilsinhaur's
office. From walking down the stairs haunted by the thuds of Ona banging
against her prison door, to the door and the pillar o'doom from my dream. To
the abyss and then Ona's life. Her excitement and trepidation of getting what
she wanted. Of the saucy night in Padraic's arms to the death of her sisters.
Hiding in fear and being found. Of watching her cousin being raped with a
knife. The hardest part was telling Dmitri about the rape by threat of death.
Of waiting in the tiny room for something to happen, other than death.

Through it all, Dmitri never removed his
eyes from mine and tightened his hands on mine in a comforting gesture when it
came to the parts I verbally stumbled over. When I finished with Ona's death by
starvation, Dmitri spoke.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Just imagine living through that,
experiencing it all via Ona's perspective. That's where I am.”

“She doesn't set a great example of
marriage between us, does she?”

“Neither does my mother, but I'm still
happy as a clam to be with you.”

“So... do you think it's real? You and
me back in the day?”

“I don't know. I'm leaning towards
induced hallucination rather than past life. Unless there's a way to prove
those people existed at the time and locale, then I'm going to err on the side
of safety.” Last thing I want to do is emulate Willow and fully embrace other
time periods with reckless abandon and no proof.

“In that case, you just put yourself
through imagined hell for what?” Anger started to seep into Dmitri's tone as he
tried to make sense of my mind.

I can't say I did it to keep Willow from
putting her stamp on the wedding, although that was a tiny factor. Morbid
curiosity? That works. “Because I wanted to do something, anything to make
sense of me messing up when you proposed.”

“How's that working for you?”

I shot him a look of disgust at the
sarcastic tone radiating from Dmitri's voice. Gee, thought it was evident how
well its working out for me. “You tell me.”

Dmitri scooted his computer chair back.
“I will tell you what I see. I see someone who has cold feet and finding excuses
to justify them.”

What the fuck? “Excuse me? Did I not
inform you like ten minutes ago that we are getting married? That I'm all yay
marriage, meh wedding? Yeah, at first I went to Willow's therapist to fulfill
my end of our deal. But now, having seen or imagined or whatever, yeah. Sorry
the wedding doesn't mean as much to me as it does to you. But I hope that me
thinking marriage is more important than a single day acts to balance that blow
to your pride. I don't think I'm likely to change my tune about that any time
soon. Sorry.” My demeanor bordered belligerent rather than penitent.

My voice softened after I drew a deep
breath. "You have no idea what it's like to close my eyes and see those
horrific things. I don't even know if they actually happened, Dmitri. That's
what bothers me most... whether I imagined it all or whether it really
happened... I just don't know anything other than yes, it has changed my
perspective on the importance of the wedding ceremony versus the marriage
itself although the reality of the experience is up for debate.”

I sighed deeply. “My frame of reference
is somewhat jaded, Dmitri. I admit that. Between Willow's husbands, I witnessed
a wide variety of marital behaviors I know you won't subject me to, but still
I'm a little wary. This is new, uncharted waters. The only constant I have is
you.”

“I don't like you referring to the
wedding ceremony as your attempt at an Oscar. I find that insulting, really.”
Dmitri's voice dripped disdain.

“Fair enough. I can understand why you
would find that particular phrasing not to your liking. It was not intended as
a hurtful statement.”

“I also think you are taking this past
life regression stuff too seriously.”

“That's a possibility. I don't like that
I envisioned her life. I could do without it polluting my brain. I mean,
seriously. Just talking about it makes me think I smell the stench of decay.
That's how real it was, Dmitri. Willow said I'd be feeling foul for a couple
days, so perhaps this anxiety towards the wedding ceremony will mellow. It's
what I'm hoping for. Already have mixed feelings that I'm not all
rawr-wedding-time! This conversation hasn't really helped that, either. But
whatever. You can marry me or not. As long as you are content to be with me I'm
content to be with you. If me wanting the main course instead of drooling over
the appetizer upsets you so, my bad. I was just being honest.”

There. Cannot be more blunt than that.

“So it doesn't matter to you if we marry
or not? At all?”

Pretty much. “I'm happy that you asked
me to marry you. I'm thrilled that you decided you wanted me as a life mate.
Being with you matters. Everything else is frosting on the Dmitri cake.”

“You're saying we could not get married
and you'd still be happy?” I hope Dmitri's head doesn't explode from that
revelation.

“Kinda. Marry me, let's have a party to
celebrate. Don't marry me, let's have a party and celebrate. As long as we're
both happy about being together, do the rest of the details really matter that
much?”

A long, uncomfortable pause before
Dmitri spoke. “It matters to me.”

“I'm not a traditional kind of girl.
Thought you were aware of that quirk.”

“It's different. In Croatia, weddings
are lively. Everybody is excited. Festivities, parties, luncheons and
dinners... a week of partying hard. At the actual ceremony, guests are greeted
with a shot of alcohol and a sprig of rosemary. Vows, then dancing, more
alcohol and general merriment. That's my frame of reference, that's kinda what
I want with you. I want you to be excited and happy about your wedding day. I
plan on marrying only once and you are who I've chosen. Let's grow toothless
and senile together.”

“I wish I had gotten some of that action
instead of watching Willow run away from abusive, addict assholes after
repeated eloping to Reno.”

“You don't talk about that much.”

“There's not much to say about it.”
Suffice it to say I'm happy I'm not with any sort of man that bears resemblance
to my platoon of stepfathers. “She doesn't talk about her first husband at all.
My sperm donor was a drug dealer who got arrested in Mexico and locked up for
years. She divorced his ass. Her next husband beat the shit out of her and kept
her fucked up on booze and pills so she wouldn't run away from him. Grampa put
an end to that when he found out how bad it was. Her last husband... he was a
creep. Big time, Uncle McTouchy-Feely creepster. They drank themselves stupid
until he tried selling some of my grandmother's jewelery to pay off gambling
debts. Uncle Pat and his Magical Fist of Convincing ended that notion. Since
then, Willow avoids men. Can't blame her.”

“We aren't like that. You're a lot like
your mom, but with much better taste in men.”

What now? “I'm not like my mother.”
Them's fighting words.

“Yeah you are, just toned down a lot.
Her backyard's clone is in our living room. The only difference is that your
plants don't produce food. You make and sell tie-dye... don't tell me you
didn't learn that from her. Even some mannerisms. And now you can add
'experiencing past lives' to your shared resume.”