Dreaming a Reality (5 page)

I caught up on some loose e-mails, sending one to Mr. Ming:

Mr. Ming, I have sent you the packages that are finished with their bookings. Can you confirm and file them, please?

Then I read the e-mail from Dean:

Wanna talk?

Apparently, he must have thought I was online at the time, so I prepared an e-mail back:

Hey, Dean,

Hope all is well. Sorry I missed you. A lot has been going on. I had a great time with you when we first met. You put me in good spirits, and that’s what I needed. I’ll try to get back to you later. Take care.

Katherine.

I didn’t want to tell him about my mom just yet. After all, we’d only been talking for a short period of time, and I still felt like I had to hold back on some of the conversations. As it was, Dean had been having problems with his son Sean and with something else; what that was, I didn’t know.

Soon after I pressed send to his e-mail, Dean’s IM popped up.

DD: Are you on?

KW: Yeah sure, what’s up?

DD: It’s been a few days. Is everything okay with you?

I thought of telling him right then and there, but something changed my mind. I just wanted to keep the chat light.

KW: Yeah, things are fine. How are you and Sean?

DD: He got someone knocked up. The hell if I care how he is.

KW: Well, look at it this way. You’ll be a pretty good-looking grandpa.

DD: Haha…yeah.

Dean and I chatted for about 30 minutes, exchanging a couple of laughs. He seemed to take on a better mood.

I worried about Dean just as I worried about all my friends. He too was fighting depression. After being clinically diagnosed, I knew what he was going through and guessed that’s why we hit it off in the first place. That’s just it. I thought of him as a friend and not a lover. It wasn’t that I wasn’t attracted to him; it was how he presented himself when I first saw him in Chicago. There was something missing, yet I wanted to hang on to the fact that he was the first decent person I’d dated in years. It was nice that Jenny recommended the site, and it was nice it was working out, but that was just it—it was nice…not wonderful.

Mitch was the only other person I’d been with since the divorce and just now, after three years of being single again, I figured I should start dating again.

* * * *

I endured several hospital stays months after my marriage fell apart and couldn’t date. That had been the last thing on my mind. All I could think of was finally getting out of the hospital. It would have been fourteen years of marriage, if that last dreadful summer hadn’t happened, when I’d realized John had had enough. I went through years of depression beforehand and stopped taking my meds, after I was diagnosed, and then developed high anxiety.

While we were married, I changed my habits and lost a lot of weight—whittling down to only one hundred and fifteen pounds. I also started going out more and not telling John of my whereabouts. He was a heavy drinker from the start and was an only child, having been raised by his grandfather after his parents divorced.

I tried to straighten up the house before Jeremy’s arrival and continued working, sending out e-mails, but I couldn’t help thinking of John again.

I remembered when his parents got into that fatal car accident. He was in his twenties, and we’d only been married a couple of years. Instead of sobering up, he got worse and started developing reckless behavior, putting Jeremy and I through a lot of pain. His careless actions also put us in financial danger. Once, when Jeremy was little, and John was completely out of it, I left them alone, thinking they would be fine, but when I got home, I saw that Jeremy was standing over a drunken John. That’s when my mom stepped in and helped out with the babysitting.

Back then I was waitressing and making good tips but couldn’t handle all the bills. In my early years of marriage, I bounced around from job to job, trying to make ends meet. John worked sporadically with his carpentry, receiving only odd jobs here and there. It was a time when we really struggled to keep it together.

* * * *

I went to the kitchen to put the meatloaf in and started up with the mashed potatoes. Finally I would see Jeremy after what seemed like a month since my trip with Jenny.

I wondered how John was doing, and how he was with Natalie. They’d been friends for years and it took me by surprise that she’d moved in with him. I was eager to hear what Jeremy had to say, but felt like I was eavesdropping on John’s life, finding out through Jeremy. It didn’t help that John never talked about it, that I had to learn everything from our son.

It was now around seven in the evening, and I had all my work done and the house neat and clean. The meatloaf was cooking, and the smell of bacon loomed through the house. I was ready for Jeremy to come home.

Chapter Seven

“Jeremy!” I shouted as he stepped in the front door.

“How are you?” I asked, embracing him by the doorway.

“I’m good. It smells great in here, Ma.”

“Good. I’m making one of your favorites.”

He took his coat off and headed to the bathroom. I went back into the kitchen to mash the potatoes one last time.

“So, how was your trip?” he asked as he entered the kitchen and sat down at the table.

“It was good. How was Dad’s?”

I didn’t want to tell him about Dean—not yet. I was more interested in him talking. I slipped on the oven mitt and placed the meatloaf on the stove.

“Dad’s was good.”

Just like Jeremy to answer in the same way.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it, Ma.”

“Come on, Jer. You can tell me. Was Natalie there?”

“You know, Ma, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.” His stern look felt like a slap on the face.

I could feel my cheeks turning red as I cut up the meatloaf. Luckily, I had my back turned where Jeremy couldn’t see.

“I’m just curious, Jeremy. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Curiosity kills the cat.”

“Har-dee-har, very funny. Now talk to me. What’s up?”

“Well, you might want to sit down for this. I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

My heart started beating quickly, and I felt nervous again. It came in waves, and right now I felt like this was a big one. What ball are you gonna drop on me now? I thought.

“They are getting married.”

* * * *

That night I wrestled around in bed thinking of just about everything, including my mom, whom I couldn’t believe was so severely sick. Why hadn’t they told me themselves? Why still carry this heavy animosity against me—this difficult grudge that we couldn’t get past? I had the urge to see her again, to confide in her like I used to.

While I tossed and turned, my thoughts shifted to John. How in the world had this happened? Natalie of all people? I thought they were just friends. I knew they were close, but still. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to wake Jeremy either, so I remained in bed. I tried to focus on calming my mind, counting how many times the ceiling fan clicked as it swirled around. My thoughts were on edge, spiraling around like the fan. I thought so much, I closed my eyes; that’s when she appeared to me again.

* * * *

We ran to an old abandoned farmhouse to go play inside. The house had chipped, pale-blue paint and a wooden porch. When we separated hands and split up, running throughout the house, the girl began to count softly. Once she reached twenty, she yelled out, “Ready or not, here I come.” We were playing a game of hide-and-seek. She was to hide and I to go look for her, but it seemed like the opposite as I could feel her eyes watching me as I searched through the house. It grew dark and cold and the cool breeze drifted down the stairs as I began to walk up them. I could hear the floors creak as she ran through the house. Suddenly, there was silence and everything turned black. I was the one hiding, and the anticipation of being caught made my heart beat even faster. How could I have been the one looking, and then suddenly trapped in the darkness?

I felt around to see where I was—I was in a wooden box and lifted up the top to peek out and see where the girl was. She had reached the top of the stairs and turned to the railing to look down. Standing there quietly, she looked me straight in the face; she knew I was watching her. I smiled and waited patiently for her to come get me, but instead she turned to the railing near the balcony of the staircase. She looked up and counted how many times the ceiling fan turned, just as she was about to perch herself on the rail, then she proceeded to climb up and continue counting.

I got out of the chest and ran to her, but everything was in slow motion and I wasn’t fast enough. Just as I got to the ledge, she jumped into a pit of grey smoke, and in that instant, she was gone.

* * * *

The tic-tac-sized numbers on the digital clock read the same time as usual, 2:27 a.m. It was the very same time I’d woken up for over a month now. I tried to remember what the doctor said: “Maybe it’s the little girl inside you, feeling trapped.”

Dripping with sweat, I decided to get up, go splash some water on my face and do my rounds, but before I left the bathroom, I glanced in the mirror. My eyes were sunken and felt heavy. I was half asleep and half awake and hadn’t realized how tired I looked until now.

“Why does this keep happening?” I asked myself in a quiet voice. Reverting back to what the doctor said, I thought maybe it was me in another life, trapped.

After being up a while, I went to the computer to see if Dean was on, but saw that his green online button was off. I then checked on my e-mail—another one from John. Why now? I thought. Didn’t we just talk about this? What was he doing to me? He has his new life with Natalie now, for Christ’s sake, and they’re getting married. This time I didn’t hesitate to open it. In fact, I felt compelled to reply to whatever he had to say:

Kat, I haven’t seen you in months. We need to sit down and really talk. Not just about Jeremy, but about us.

“About us?” I laughed. There is no “us”. My mind traveled to when there was an “us”. John would grill his famous A1 burgers, while I sautéed onions. He loved cooking for us while Jeremy played in the yard. Back then, there was an “us”.

After reading the e-mail, I didn’t have the heart to reply. I was angry at what he had said, angry for including me in whatever he was thinking. How dare he? He’s with who he wants to be with now. Why play with my mind again and make me think there is more to it than there really is? After so many arguments regarding the “whys” and “how-comes”, I was now at the point of not caring, I was now at the point of becoming manic.

Chapter Eight

The next morning I decided to give John a call. After finishing my conversations with potential customers, I was now ready and had some time to talk to him. The answering machine picked up.

“John, I don’t know what’s up with you lately. I sincerely hope you’re okay. I know it’s hard to keep in contact, but we need to for Jeremy’s sake.” I ended the call and hung up.

I went into the kitchen to start some coffee, glancing at the table again—John’s table. I thought of how he worked his way up from carving little wooden animals, when we were first dating, to his carpentry career now, and remembered when he was going to school and finally finished. It was something he always dreamed of. Lately, he seemed too busy during the day for e-mails and phone calls, yet he didn’t hesitate to do so in the middle of the night. Was that when he knew I’d be on?

I walked back upstairs to the loft where the computer was and began sifting through my e-mails. There were several from Mr. Jorgan—Mitch. He’d been away on business in Cancun with his wife for the past few days, but the moment he came back into Wisconsin, he left message after message, including some on the phone. I listened in as they began to play:

“Kat, I really wish you’d give me that second chance we’ve been talking about. As for the Denver trip, that is to be scheduled for mid-December. Give me a call when you can. I miss my kitty.”

I then proceeded to call his cell, leaving a message:

“Mr. Jorgan. Glad you made it back. I will need details for the Denver meetings so I can book them immediately. Please send an e-mail and provide me with this information. I will have printouts of the flight patterns as soon as I can.”

Mr. Ming also called, but I knew there was no rush for that. Although I’d been feeling a little off here and there, I still had caught up with work.

No word from Dean, though, which was surprising. Usually he’d e-mail or IM every day, but this morning, nothing.

I gave Dean a call around lunchtime, but he didn’t pick up, and I didn’t leave a message. Thoughts of him ran negatively through my mind. We’d been talking for weeks, yet only saw each other that one time in Chicago. We were so hot and heavy in the beginning with our chatting, it seemed odd not to hear from him for a few days.

Feeling slightly sluggish, and confused about Dean, I decided to take a walk. I slipped on my socks and shoes and headed out through the back door, smelling the pine and fresh water in the air as I walked. I took the winding suburban road to the lake, noticing there were only a few people out this time of day. Just one car passed as I began to hike down the trail to the bridge.