Darling (15 page)

“Not just one. I’ve had...
been
having these dreams for a while.”

“How long?”

“For a few weeks. Only when I stay here.” He raised an eyebrow and she took his hand again. “It’s not you. It’s this building.”

“The building?”

She nodded.

“It
is
kind of creepy.”

She shook her head. “That’s not it.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what are the nightmares?”

She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her shins. She looked down at her hands and he followed her eyes. She played with the ring on her pinky, spinning it around, moving it up and down. She suddenly looked like a little girl; young, weak, vulnerable. More than anything, she looked innocent, and the fact that something had shaken and disturbed her worried him to his core. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and protect her.

This
is
love,
he thought. If he had any doubts about having said it to her, they were swept away.

Eileen smiled weakly and he smiled back.

She stood. “I need a glass of water.” She slid on one of his long white T-shirts. It hung to her knees, swallowing her completely and hiding her shape. It made her look even more childlike as she tiptoed out into the apartment.

Dennis sat up and peeked out the door. The couch was empty and Mike’s door was shut. He was grateful; the last thing Eileen needed right now was Mike saying something moronic.

He heard her rummage through the cabinets and then the high-pitched whistle of the kitchen sink. Her bare feet smacked their way across the wooden floor and he thought she was coming back, but then the bathroom light clicked on. It spilled out onto the sofa and reflected off of several empty Coke cans. Mike was such a pig sometimes.
Used to
his mother cleaning up after him
.

He heard water running again, and then the
rushwhoosh-rush
of a toothbrush scrubbing in her mouth. Didn’t
she already brush her teeth? He heard her gargle and spit,
then the light went off and she walked back into the room.

She shut the door behind her and sat her glass of water on the dresser. Leaned against the wall. Closed her eyes. Grimaced. “I can still taste him.”

Dennis felt a surge of jealousy and almost asked
Who?
but stopped himself. She was obviously shaken by the
dream; he doubted it was some kind of sexual fantasy. And
even if it was, he couldn’t exactly accuse her of infidelity
based on a dream.

She sighed. Took a deep breath. She opened her eyes, took her glass in both hands, and drank. Sat it back down. She crossed her arms across her chest, hugging herself and staring at her feet.

“It’s the same dream, but it...it gets worse every time.

Keeps going. Like a...a...soap opera. I get a little bit each time and it plays out a little further.”

Dennis realized that she had avoided spending the night lately. All of the early work shifts, the car problems, the invitations to cook for him at her place—it was all her way to keep the dream from coming.

And he talked her into coming over tonight.

“It, uh, it starts with me wandering through the woods. It’s dusk and I know I have to get out of here before night falls. I come across this concrete tube, like some kind of drainage thing, but big. Almost big enough to fit my car into. And there’s this rusted grate locked shut over it. I hear something inside and bend down to get a closer look. My finger gets cut on the grate, and a bit of blood drops down into the darkness. It’s quiet at first, but then there are these sounds. This horrible growling, and then these tearing sounds, like animals ripping into meat. And suddenly, there’s a flood coming out of the thing. This foul smelling tide of, I don’t know,
sewage
, I guess. And I run and run, until my heart’s about to burst. But this river of shit crashes over me, dragging me under, and there are other people trapped in it, I can feel their bodies bounce off of mine. I fight to the surface but hands grab my calves and ankles and try to drag me under.

“Then suddenly you and I are walking up the driveway. It’s night and we’re holding hands. There are these dim lights along the driveway, like...um...like gaslights. Ya know? Like outside of Scrooge’s shop in ‘A Christmas Carol,’ those Victorian lights.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re alone, but I can feel people lined up along both sides of the drive. Just, I don’t know, standing. Watching us walk. But for whatever reason I never look to the sides, just straight ahead, watching the building grow as we move toward it. It kind of…kind of
breathes
. I really don’t know how to describe it.

“Then we’re walking through the courtyard, but it’s sudden. Like, we’re in the driveway then suddenly the courtyard. Ya know, typical dream logic. The courtyard is lit with the same gaslights, but they’re not as strong. All of the statues are completely in the dark but they seem to be moving. Undulating. Dancing. Touching each other. There’s faint moaning coming from the dark. Heavy breathing. The air is hot. Thick and humid. It smells like jasmine and...
sex
.”

“Sounds hot,” Dennis said and smiled.

She stared at him, confused.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She took another breath and ran her hand across her face. “So we get to the door, except it doesn’t open onto the lobby. It opens onto the pool area, like the front of the building isn’t a building at all, just some kind of facade. The gaslights aren’t here, just the normal dim light bulbs. But there’s even more people, still in the dark, watching. They’re excited. You can feel it all around you. The air is hungry. Lustful.

“And the pool…God. It’s filled with
bodies
, floating lifelessly. Bloated. Blue.”

“Blue?”

“Yeah. From drowning, I guess. And there’s something else in there with them. It swims around under them, bumping them every now and then and causing them to splash around. And you can see that goddamned supermarket past the pool, all lit up. The parking lot, the supermarket itself, the other stores—all of it. But the graffiti’s still there and the grass is still waist high, so it’s not open. It’s more like it’s…it’s…”

She shook her head. “So you and I walk past the pool over to that grotesque fountain. The water sprays out like usual, but the color’s different. It’s red, blood red, and there are bits of white and…” She shivered. “It’s disgusting. But the worst part is the statues. They’re moving. The satyr’s hand is fondling the woman’s breast and she’s pushing back against him, moaning. Her eyes are closed, but he’s looking right at us.”

Dennis shivered. The statues unnerved him under normal circumstances in broad daylight. But this…No wonder she was so upset.

“And their skin. It’s the same color as the stone they’re made from, but it looks like human skin. It’s got the right texture, and flexibility, and there’s even a pulse underneath it as blood pumps. And you step up to the fountain and he looks at you and I scream for you to get away but he says… he says…”

“What’s he say?”

She closed her eyes. “He says that his woman is for you and yours is for him. And you just nod your head. I’m screaming at you, angry, hurt, but more afraid than anything. Then the woman opens her eyes and steps down onto the edge of the fountain. She takes your hand and whispers ‘darling,’ and squats down until she’s sitting, and her legs are spread, and she grabs your face and pushes it down.

“Then she’s moaning and clutching at the back of your head. I want to run, but I can’t. I can feel all of those people just waiting in the dark and if I run I know, somehow I just
know
that they’ll tear into me. And the satyr is watching you and his nymph fuck and he’s stroking himself.”

“God damn, Eileen.”

“Oh, it’s not over. That’s where it ended last time. Tonight… dear Christ, tonight
he stepped down.
”

Dennis felt the sudden urge to tell her to stop, that he couldn’t listen anymore. But deep down he was consumed by a morbid curiosity and, though he refused to admit it even to himself, her dream not only horrified him but also turned him on.

“He steps over you right as you yell and give one last thrust. Then he gives you a knife and you…you…” She sniffed and her lips quivered. He thought she was going to cry again, but she took a deep breath and sucked it all in. It looked like it took a tremendous amount of will, but she pulled herself together.

Her eyes focused on a point on the ceiling and she rattled off the rest of the dream matter-of-factly, as though she recited a series of statistics for one of her classes.

“You open your throat and slump over into the bloody water. The nymph grabs your body and tosses it completely in and then she mounts your dead face and grinds back and forth, moaning, as she laps up the blood coming out of the fountain. Then the satyr is behind me, running hiscalloused fingers along my abdomen. He whispers to me, I don’t remember what, and his erection presses against my back.

“Then he spins me, pushes me to my knees, and presses his fucking dick against my lips. I don’t want to open for him, but it’s like my jaw and teeth are mush and he pushes himself inside my mouth. And then he’s thrusting. Not gently, God no. He’s fucking my mouth so rough that his pelvis busts my nose open and the blood runs down onto my lips and all I can taste is my blood and this sweaty, diseased
thing
that’s in my mouth, and it tastes like rotten hamburger…and sour milk…and…”

She broke down and started gagging. She ran to the bathroom and Dennis heard her vomit. His first thought was to rush after her, see if she was okay, but he was rooted to the bed. He was a jumble of emotions—fear, distress, disgust, jealousy, anger, and lust.

What could cause a dream like that?

He heard the toilet flush and she came back into the room. He stood and took her into his arms. He held her for a long while.

He kissed her forehead. “What do you think caused it? Are you taking some allergy medication or maybe ate something that—”

“It’s this building,” she whispered, gesturing with her finger to the floor. She looked conspiratorial and Dennis had to stifle a laugh.

“The building…”

“That sounds crazy, but I just know it. It doesn’t feel like something from my own mind. It’s like…like…like a movie or something, like it’s been given to me, and I have no control over how it happens or…or…”

“But the fountain. The slitting of the throat. The statues.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What about them?”

“Well, I mean, it’s like that story I told you. The one

Margot told us that day at the pool when the Callahan kid had a seizure. That doctor built those statues for him and his mistress and then slit his own throat in that fountain.”

“And?”

“I’m just saying, maybe that’s kicking around in your subconscious somewhere. It’s a little coincidental, isn’t it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. It just seems like…”

“Like what?”

“Nothing.” She threw her arms up into the air and laughed. “You’re right. I’m being silly.”

“No you’re not. That’s a fucking scary dream. You have every right to be upset. But I seriously doubt the building is feeding you these images. That’s just not possible.”

She shrugged again and slumped down on the foot of his bed. “You’re right.”

He kissed her cheek.

“I don’t know if I can get back to sleep now.”

He stood, grabbed her clothes off of the floor, and tossed them at her. He grabbed his own jeans and slid them on.

“What are you doing?”

He zipped his pants and smiled. “We’re staying the rest of the night at your place.”

She stood. “No, no. That’s ridiculous. I’m already—”

He grabbed her around the waist and kissed her. “It’s okay. We’ll spend the rest of the night there. And tomorrow night, too. And the next. We’ll stay there every night, if we have to, until you stop having this dream.”

She smiled, her eyes filling with tears. “Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary. You have satellite TV, it’s that simple.”

She laughed and hugged him. He rubbed his hand up and down her back, trying to comfort her, but a question kept nagging at him.

What if the dream never stopped?

* * *

Mike pulled off of the interstate exit and onto Emory Highway. He stopped a little too hard at the red light and his seatbelt pinched the skin on his neck. He readjusted it and, making sure that the road was still clear, turned right.

He was nervous driving, but happy to be able to. He thought that Dennis wasn’t going to take him out again after the last time, but he did. Eileen even took him out one day while Dennis was at work. She had been much more fun than his roommate, laughing and joking the whole time, and he had felt more comfortable with her. After that he was confident enough to get his license and start taking himself to work. And right on schedule, he thought. It was the end of the month and school would be starting up before he knew it.

The thought of school sent a wave of nausea blasting through him. He wanted to go, was excited to, but had never been more nervous about anything in his life. This wasn’t like high school; he would have to sign up for his own classes, buy his own books, find his own way around campus. The thought made him want to run home, not to the apartment but to his parents’ house, bang on the door, and beg to be let back in.

But his parents hadn’t even called to see how he was doing. To Hell with them. He didn’t need them anymore. At least, he didn’t think so. He worried sometimes that he did, especially when thinking of school, but he had some money saved up and had received letters notifying him that he was approved for a student loan, so he was fine. Independent. Grown up.

Was he?

Sure. He set his own curfew, didn’t he? He had control over his checking account for once. He cashed his own paychecks. He paid his own bills. He even drank. What else did adults do?

They dated, that’s what.

He had been feeling particularly lonely since moving out, and he had to admit,
horny
. One of the reasons he wanted his own place was to bring a girl home, but he hadn’t been on a date in over a year. The last girl he had gone out with was a seventeen-year-old named Kyrie who worked at the theater over the summer. Mike had gone out with her six times, kissing her on the fourth and fifth dates, and making out with her on the sixth. He had even felt her tiny breasts that night while sitting on a bench in the park. He had thought that this was it, he had a girlfriend finally, he was going to get
laid
, but then she canceled their next two dates. She had bullshit excuses, something about helping her dad fix the garage. Then summer was over and she had gone off to college. He had tried calling and e-mailing a few times that fall, but she never called or wrote back.