A Wicked Beginning (10 page)

Think, Chérie, think
. This was Cam’s dream, not mine. Cam was gasping as he charged through these brutal woods, his lungs heaving ragged breaths. The only thing I could think to do was recall the village I had dreamt. I brought to mind the chiming streams, the tinkling flowers, and the brilliant cascade of sounds flowing from the gardens. I sent that vision straight into Cam’s heart. I urged him to choose between warmth and violence, between terror and surrender. I told him he was safe. Honestly, it was all I could think to do. And then I witnessed a remarkable thing: as Cam ran, he became younger and younger. I watched a rage-filled 20-something Cam in self-destructive oblivion, wrenching branches off the trees, tearing open the flesh of his palms, slamming against the razor sharp rocks until his legs were raw and bloody. I watched a teenage Cam run with paranoia, looking every which way like he was skirting along a mine field searching for the source of destruction. Then, I observed a small, scared boy racing through this surreal landscape, wondering where he could possibly go that was safe. I reached out to this small Cam, picked him up, and held him while he sobbed with heart twisting snuffles. Only then did I notice that the room had become very, very quiet.

I opened my eyes and saw Manoko and Severe watching me intently. Manoko’s face had a look of amazement on it. Severe’s face bore an expression of overjoyed dog-ness.
I knew you could do it,
she projected in doggy telepathy. She held her front paw up in a kind of salute.

Cam was resting peacefully, the color having returned to him, the ugly light receded from the claw marks, a soft smile curving on his face. His eyes were still closed, but he looked like he was in a profound rest.

“Ka’kriyayaga,” Manoko said, pushing himself off the bed. He looked haggard and worn. He bowed his head slightly before calling Severe to his side and heading towards the door. His arm reached out to steady his body against the door jam, and he paused, as if about to turn around and say something. Then, apparently thinking better of it, he stumbled down the hallway, with Severe skittering along by his side.

I sat next to Cam with my hand on his side until he stirred. Opening his eyelids, he asked, “Okay, what happened this time?”

“Don’t you remember any of it?”

“Not sure if I want to remember…strange dark shapes trying to eat me…hurtling through an inexplicable landscape. I was terrified. That fucking star dreamling was in there somewhere.” He tried to push up to sitting then fell back. “Whoa…”

“Too fast?” I inquired.

“You could say that…the room started to spin.” He reached out and pulled my hand towards his lips. He kissed the palm, then took each finger into his mouth, one at a time, and gently sucked it. Each fingertip made a tiny pop when he released it. “Tell me you’re not going to the ka’ place when I do this…”

“No, this feels sweet, Cam.” I smiled and wiped my saliva covered fingers on the bedspread before snuggling down next to him on the bed. “I did learn a little more about channeling that energy, though.” I traced his face with a finger then smoothed his sweat soaked hair.

He took hold of my hand again and once more kissed the palm. “That’s good…but I guess there’ll be no more consummation, huh?” He said the word consummation like “con-soo-may-shun” in a silly, mocking voice.

“Not until I figure a few things out, I guess. So tell me…how did you pull out of the terror place?” I kissed his cheek lovingly. He pushed an arm underneath my shoulders and pulled me on top of him. “Cam…” I began.

“Shhh…” he soothed. “I just want to hold you. No monkey business. That knocked the stuffing out of me.” His hands moved gently up and down my back. “To answer your question, I remember running and running and thinking of my asshole father beating the crap out of my mother, week after week. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got, the more those black gooey things attacked me. I felt all this rage and helplessness. Then this beautiful…light being or something like that…enveloped me. It felt like someone was holding me. It made me feel safe. Then I just calmed down. And I came back and there you were. I guess that’s one way to get you over here,” he teased.

“I was scared to death…I leapt out of bed and came right over.”

“In your beat up VW? That thing’s a piece of shit…” he muttered. “I know a guy I want to talk to – I think he can get you into something better.”

I burrowed my face into his neck, unwilling to let him see my lying eyes. How was I going to tell him that Kayden was back? Luckily, he didn’t say anything else about my car. His hands just kept on moving in slow, gentle caresses. He whispered into my hair, “I guess there goes my busy day…I’ll have to flip the sick card, huh?”

“I guess so…” I whispered. And then we both fell into an exhausted sleep.

Chapter 11 – Cam

The afternoon sun was pouring through the bedroom window, lighting up the room in a rosy hue when Cam woke up a couple hours later with Chérie snuggled by his side.
Mmm, nice
, he thought. This was another thing he had missed. “Hey, sleepyhead…” he whispered in Chérie’s ear.

“Hmmm…?”

“Let’s get up…the day still has lots of daylight left. I’ve pared my list down to two doable things.”

“Mm hmmm,” she murmured, eyes still closed.

“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?”