Bring Me Back (4 page)

Sore, I am so sore that I can hardly move.  I stand up and untangle myself from the sheet before I turn to walk to the bathroom.  “What the hell?”  I mumble when I see the crumpled man sleeping against my wall.  Faintly I remember him coming in last night.
Ian? Is that what he said
?  I can’t remember right now.  I am not sure what to do, so I sit down on the edge of the bed and wait. 

Chapter 10

~Ian

Singing.  That is the last thing I remember, before I fell asleep.  The same song, over and over.  The voice was soft, and I imagine it would have been quite beautiful if the trembling and ragged breathing hadn’t made it sound so choppy. Regardless, her singing is calming, and it pushes me over the edge of unconsciousness.

My neck is stiff and my left leg is asleep.  I open my eyes, unable to place my surroundings, until I look up and see her sitting there so composedly on the edge of her bed.  “Hi.”  I say so lightly that I almost don’t recognize it as my own voice.  “Hi.”  She says simply.   Pulling myself up, I stumble back into the wall when I put weight on my left leg.  The pins and needles are almost painful as life returns to my limb. I look up and smile ever so slightly, embarrassed by my discomposure.  Keeping a distance from her, I introduce myself. “I’m Ian.”  “Ally…my name is Ally,” she declares, not moving from the bed. 

She seems so poised, even though her hair is somewhat disheveled and still slightly damp from sweat.  Her cheeks are flushed ever so slightly, and her eyes are revealing absolutely nothing right now.  She doesn’t look away, almost analyzing my every movement.  “Ally, are you okay?”  I ask.  Without tearing her eyes away from me she simply replies, “No.”  I don’t need clarification.  After what I saw last night, I knew the answer before she even said it.

“Look, I’m sorry to burst into your house,” I say, running my hands through my hair. “I, um…I heard your screams, and quite frankly, I thought you were, well I thought you were being attacked or something.” I stammer.  Ally looked straight into my eyes as she spoke, “Listen Ian, I can’t explain. I don’t mean I
won’t
, but I really can’t.  I am messed up, maybe crazy, but surely broken. Some days are better than most, but today isn't one of those days.”  She was so calm.  “I am sorry to scare you, but I’m okay now.”  She got up and walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

I took this as my clue to leave. On my way out I found the bag of supplies from the hardware store that I had left on the stoop the day before.  I placed it on the counter in her kitchen, closed the door and walked back to my house.  I felt emptier than usual. 

Sometimes it is hard to see past your own pain; you allow it to completely consume you until you don’t see anyone else.  I have done this for so long that I don’t know how to stop.  I should be completely freaked out by what happened in Ally’s house last night, but I’m not—not toward her anyway.  I’m angry.  God, I am so angry at the pain!  The pain that can break people down so much, tear you down so far, that you can’t imagine ever feeling right again. I walk to my door, grab the pot sitting next to it and throw it across the porch, shattering it against the post before I walk inside and close the door.

***

I can’t work. My mind is numb and I can’t seem to sit here and think of Laney or of anything else, so I decide to throw on my sweats and go for a run.  I used to run regularly, and seeing Ally pop out from the trees the other night, I longed to do it again.  I walk passed the mess I created with the pot and kick a piece of it down the steps.  I looked to where Ally came through the trees and decided to try that way.

Once I was through the trees, I found an obvious trail, one that had been well used and started to run.  I felt the cool mountain air on my face and let myself go, running and breathing, that’s all I was concerned with.  When the trail finally wrapped back around and ended up just past Ally’s house, I was completely spent.  Barely making it back to my porch steps, I collapsed and cried.  That seems to be all I can do lately. There are certain truths that I can be sure of….Pain and tears.  The pain lets me know I’m still alive... the tears remind me that I’m only human. I stand up to go inside, but not before noticing that the mess I made with the pot was gone.

Chapter 11

~Ally

When I came out of the bathroom, Ian was gone.  I should have been scared to find him in my room this morning, but I wasn’t.  I walked out to the kitchen to make some tea.  I want coffee, but if I intend to sleep at all today, I have to try to do this right.  I notice the paper sack on the counter and peak inside. “Oh good!”   I might be able to get this table done before Ronnie comes on Wednesday with the grout and new glass cutters I’ve been waiting on. I remember right before throwing the bag away that I had seen Ian write something on it the day before.

~
Hello, Was asked to drop this off.  Ian (your neighbor)

Crumbling up the bag, I glance out the window across the drive to Ian’s house.  He is standing at the foot of his stairs with his hand clenched into fists at his sides.  He walks up to his door, and I am just about to look away when I see the pot go flying into the post and shatter.  About 20 minutes later Ian emerges from the same door with sweats on and runs down the stairs.  Glancing both ways, he starts off through the trees in a jog, and just as quick he disappears. 

My stomach is feeling sick for what I have decided to do. I have a box propped on my arm and slowly walk across the drive toward Ian’s house. This is so far out of my comfort level, and I am sweating profusely.  Several times I want to just drop the box and run back into my house.  I start to replay a mantra in my head.
It’s okay, it’s okay, It’s okay
with every step and before I know it I am standing at the foot of the stairs that lead up to Ian’s porch.  Quickly, I begin picking up the shattered pot and placing the pieces into the box I brought.  I continuously look over my shoulder as I work so that I am not surprised by him returning from his run.  As I place the last piece in the box, I notice the broom at the top of the stairs, leaning against the post.  With one last glance over my shoulder, I decide to finish the job and sweep the remaining dirt and plant off the porch and into the bushes below.  I nod in approval before grabbing the box and returning in a full sprint to my house.

***

I mix the grout and work with it to secure the glass into the permanent pattern that I have finally satisfied myself with.  The table is an intricate pattern of reds, yellows and blues with a kaleidoscope look, branching out from the middle. The colors complement each other and I step back and realize that I truly like the table, and I know Mr. Roberts will be happy with it too.  As the table dries, I start to look through and sort the broken pot pieces and try to decide what to do with them.  It was a beautiful pot, and I know it will make a beautiful mosaic piece.  I work straight through lunch and then decide I better try to sleep before it gets dark. 

It sometimes surprises me at just how routine my life can be at times and then utterly out of control at others.  This is where the anxiety sets in for a person like me, someone who needs control in every aspect, someone whose daily existence relies on avoiding triggers that will set you off in a down spiral of fear.  The irony is that often those that feel the most need for control, are themselves the ones being controlled by their own fears, insecurities, and doubts. 

I grab a bite to eat around 9:00 p.m., and wait.  I am determined to go running this evening, and after officially meeting my neighbor, if that is what we are calling it, I feel a little less apprehension about accidentally running into him like the other night. In the few times I’ve seen Ian, he has looked like he was having some sort of inner battle.  I have a feeling he needs his privacy as much as I do. 

***

I tie up my shoes and stand on my porch.  I look to the left down the drive and am relieved to see that the lights are off at Ian’s house. I tip my head back and take a deep breath. The cool mountain air greets me, filling my lungs with refreshing pine that infuses all of my senses.  I start off toward my normal path as the sounds of the nighttime forest calm me. The gravel of the driveway crunches under my feet as I start my rhythm, pat-pat-pat-pat-pat.  The only break through sounds are the occasional snapping of a branch under my feet or the scurrying of animals who are caught by surprise by the heavy feet running by, muted only by the sporadic mat of leaves.

I run, sometimes closing my eyes and allowing my acute senses to take over.  I feel so free; running into the darkness of the night allows me to figuratively run away from the darkness in my mind.  There is no Ian tonight as I emerge from the trees, and when I finally plop down on the stairs of my porch, I feel wonderful!

Chapter 12

~Ian

I don’t know why Ally would have cleaned up the mess I made with my pot.  It doesn’t make sense, but regardless I am grateful to not have to deal with it.  Feeling empty after my emotional outburst, run and tears, I strip my sweats off and head straight for the shower.  Surprisingly, the water feels absolutely invigorating!  Afraid to lose this feeling, one that has become almost non-existent, I stand underneath the water, letting it run over my puffy eyes and tired body.   As I dry off, I can’t help but think about how good I feel right now.  My skin feels alive and my body refreshed.  The run was a good idea, and something I should probably keep up. I can’t remember the last time I felt this good.

I sit down at the table to eat a late lunch before starting on some work.  While looking around, I make mental notes of things I may want to change about the house.  When I first looked at the house, I was most attracted to the rustic look and feel.  The walls are warm rust orange that I really like, and it seems to make the exposed beams look so dark and rich.  I love the kitchen cabinets because they have that same look, like they are made with the same wood as the beams.  The counter tops are concrete and have been painted and finished to a shiny crème color.  I am not fond of the tile in the kitchen and bath, and the table I am sitting at is something that the previous owner had, as well as the crème colored sofa with flower throw pillows—too feminine.  That is something I should change sooner than later.

I work most of the afternoon and into the evening.  After I finally leave my desk and computer, I want nothing more than to hang out on the couch and watch ESPN.  After heating up some Hot Pockets, I do just that.  By 10:00 p.m., I can’t keep my eyes open.  I turn off the TV and head straight to bed.

***

I wake up with a heavy heart.  I didn’t see a healthy Laney in my dreams, but I didn’t have a nightmare either.  I never thought I would prefer the nightmares over nothing at all.  I don’t know how to explain what I'm feeling right now, it’s just.....my heart hurts. 

I muddle through the morning in a stark contrast to the jaunty way I felt last night.  I work up until lunch time on a couple different projects and watch out the window as Ronnie drives up and delivers a few bags of groceries to Ally.  Before leaving, he carries a round table out to his truck and places it gently in the back.  The table top catches the light and sends off a rainbow of shimmering reflections.  “Wow.”  I mumble to myself.  It is a beautiful table, and I wonder why she is getting rid of it. 

I am not quite ready to eat, and opt instead to go and take another run.  Pulling on a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt, I move out to the porch to put on my tennis shoes.  The porch creaks as I step out and I can’t help but smile just a little bit.  It is part of the charm of this house.  The settling and the sounds it makes are sometimes like music to me. 

I start out the same way as last time, cutting through the trees in front of my house and starting on the developed trail.  The ground is slightly moist, and as I run, I can see the much smaller footprints running the opposite direction. 
Ally must have been out again last night.
I think as I continue at a relaxed pace.  I look around at the surrounding forest.  The trees are tight together and thick.  I can’t begin to envision how dark it must be on this trail at night, and for the life of me, I can’t imagine why a small woman like Ally would choose to run in the dark.