My Dream Man (6 page)

I wore Greg’s sweater for a couple of hours around the house Friday night. The plan was to return it smelling flowery and me-scented. Meanwhile I kept thinking about what Mrs. Myszkowski said, that I had to figure out what it was that would make Greg choose me.

Sitting at the kitchen table, I created a list of questions for the psychic reading. Not that she’d need them if she was truly psychic, but a few key talking points couldn’t hurt. After I’d completed the task, I was restless. I couldn’t wait to go and see her. I hoped she was as good as Valerie claimed.

Then I continued thinking about Mr. Varo. What if he didn’t schedule any more appointments? What if something had happened to him? Or to Greg? I knew I was obsessing too much about this, but I couldn’t help myself.

I hopped in the car and took a ride past Greg’s place, just to see if anyone was home. The house was dark and there was no car in the driveway.

I glanced at my face in the rear view mirror and mouthed, “Idiot.” I was acting like a fool.

While soaking in the bath that night I thought about how my life had been on a steady path before falling for Greg. There weren’t many highs or lows. Everything was humming along on an even keel. A boring even keel, but at least life was predictable. Now I was on a roller coaster. One moment I’m riding high, walking next to my dream man, chatting with him as we stroll the neighborhood by moonlight. The next I’m so low I’m frantically scribbling notes for a psychic then driving past his house like a stalker.

I had cared about Brian and enjoyed his company, but I didn’t obsess over him. I didn’t think of him day and night like a fiend.

After climbing out of the tub and drying off, I went to bed. Whenever I had a problem it always seemed worse at night. Somehow darkness magnified my issues. It had always been that way. The best thing for me to do was sleep.

I felt better the next morning. I didn’t have the answer to any of my questions, but with sunlight streaming in the room after a surprisingly good night’s sleep, I had the energy to face another day. I chose to laze around and read a novel before meeting my girlfriends later.

On the way to Val’s house I realized I forgot my list of questions for the psychic. I need a list to remind me of all my lists. I thought about turning back to go get it, but then I’d be late, and I wasn’t a fan of making people wait for me.

Val opened the door and smiled. “Hey girl. Are you hungry? I made us some food before we take off. Just snacks.”

“Sure.” I walked in and Genevieve was already seated, nibbling on cheese and crackers.

“We’ve got wine, beer, soda,” Val offered.

“Who’s driving?” I asked.

“We’re splitting a cab so we can have a few drinks first. Is that cool with you?”

I nodded and headed to the kitchen. “Hey Gen.” I grabbed the open bottle of red wine and poured myself a glass, then piled an assortment of cheese, crackers, and raw veggies on my plate. “How’s it going?” I asked her.

She took a sip of wine and shook her hand, the universal symbol for “so-so.”

After shooting the breeze about our jobs, the cab arrived and we piled in. I was feeling pretty good after two glasses of wine, and I decided not to worry about asking specific questions at the reading. I just wanted to have a good time.

When we got to the house, an elderly gentleman answered. “Come in,” he said, his words gravelly. “My wife will be right out.”

He took us to a dreary living room. Dark wood paneling surrounded the space and a well-worn burgundy carpet covered the floor. Thick, heavy drapes were closed in front of what must have been a picture window. We sat on a sofa that was old and faded and more than a little lumpy. As I glanced around, trying to imagine what the room would look like if it weren’t so dark, a heavyset woman with spiky brown hair walked in.

“Hello ladies. My name is Irene,” she said in a sugary sweet voice. “Who wants to go first?”

Genevieve stood up and looked back at us. Val and I nodded, and then she followed Irene into the other room.

“This is a little creepier than I’d thought it would be. What do you think?” Val whispered.

I leaned in to her ear. “I don’t think we should talk about it now. She might be able to hear us, or read our thoughts. You never know.”

“Oh crap. You might be right. I’ll shut up then.”

We grinned. We were already having fun. Mission accomplished.

We waited in silence. A while later the door opened and Gen came out. She looked happy.

“Why don’t you go next,” Val said to me.

I rose and walked toward Irene, who stood there, smiling. She must do that to everyone, I thought. The way I did with my new patients.

I sat down next to her at a round, wooden dining table. I expected to see tarot cards or some other divination tool, but instead she reached for my hand.

I hesitated. “I’m supposed to give you my hand?”

“Yes, honey. That’s all I need to do the reading.”

I hadn’t heard about that before, but I knew next to nothing about psychics. Maybe that’s how they all worked these days. I put my hand in hers. She wrapped both her hands around mine and closed her eyes. I closed mine too, thinking that would be best. Her hands were warm and dry, and I felt myself relax. After a couple minutes of silence, she gently let go. Then I opened my eyes and saw hers were already open.

“You like to help people,” she said. “That’s what you do for a living. And you’re good at it. I see that continuing to go well.”

That was true, though she didn’t come right out and name my profession. More silence followed, then she looked at me, puzzled. “For some reason when I think of your family I see a TV show. I don’t know where that’s coming from.”

I laughed. “There’s truth to that.”

This lady was giving me the chills. I wondered for a second if Val or Gen had told Irene about my story but quickly dismissed the idea. They wouldn’t set me up like that.

She closed her eyes again. “You have a younger relative who looks up to you, and you have a special affinity for the elderly. They like you and you can relate to them even though you’re young.”

I thought of Mrs. Myszkowski.

Irene opened her eyes and looked right at me. “You’re going to take a trip with your family. Only the women will go. This journey is life changing. Very important.”

I had no clue what she was getting at, but I wouldn’t turn down a chance to travel. That was for sure.

“There is a man you care for. No,” she corrected herself. “You’re in love with him. Thoughts of him dominate your mind.”

I blushed.

Irene regarded me. “You want to marry him. I can see you’ve dreamed of it.”

“Yes,” I admitted.

Irene exhaled. Then her expression grew serious. “He’s no good for you. Not suitable for marriage,” she said.

When I opened my email Sunday night to check next week’s schedule, I saw Mr. Varo’s name back on the list and breathed a sigh of relief.

I had spent the entire day fretting over what the psychic said. She seemed spot on about everything, so it didn’t make sense when she said Greg, someone who was genuinely sweet, was no good for me. Of course she couldn’t be expected to be one hundred percent accurate. And in the end, I decided it was really just for fun anyway.

Valerie, Genevieve, and I had compared readings afterward at Valerie’s house. They thought her insight was uncanny. I agreed, but didn’t mention the part where she’d said the guy I was hot for wasn’t suitable for me. I didn’t want to put a damper on the evening. I kind of wanted to forget she’d said it.

On my way to Mr. Varo’s, I dismissed what the psychic said and filled my head with positive thoughts. No need to dwell on the negative – especially when it was coming from a questionable source.

I rang the doorbell and Mr. Varo answered. “Hey Sam. Long time no see. How’ve you been?”

“Good. And you?”

“I’m about the same, but unfortunately Greg is sick. He had a conference in Seattle and took me along last week. We had a nice time seeing the sights in his free time, but he didn’t bring enough layers and now he’s got the flu.”

As I headed to the kitchen I heard coughing down the hall.

“You wouldn’t believe the food there Sam. Boy did I eat!”

I raised an eyebrow, then gave him an inquiring look as I pulled out my sphygmomanometer to take his blood pressure.

“Lots of fish and vegetables,” he grinned. “No sugary stuff. Scout’s honor,” he claimed as he held up his hand.

“Well, test results don’t lie. But I’ll take your word for it until then.” I smiled and added, “Thanks for dinner the other time too. It was delicious.”

“Hey Sam,” a raspy voice said from behind me.

I turned and saw Greg. He was wearing light gray pajamas. The top was soaked with sweat, and the hair on his head was sticking up in all different directions. He looked miserable.

“Hey Greg. Sorry to hear you’re sick,” I said. I put on a professional face. “Can I get something for you? How can I help?”

“Oh. I was just looking for the number to the pizza place. Haven’t had the time or energy to shop for groceries. Or do laundry for that matter,” he added, indicating the wrinkled pajamas. “I’m just so tired.” He began rummaging through the kitchen drawer and pulled out a menu. He stared at it for a long minute.

“What is it, Greg?” his father asked.

“I never thought I’d get tired of pizza. But here I am contemplating that very concept.”

“Why don’t you let me pick up something for you two at the family restaurant on the corner? I was going to stop there on my way home,” I lied.

Greg looked like he was going to say no, like he didn’t want to trouble me with his woes, but his dad stepped in. “Do you mean the Heartland Café? Ooh, their meatloaf is excellent. Reminds me of my mother’s. Would it be too much trouble Sam?”

We made eye contact and I saw a twinkle in his. He was plotting again. “No. It’s no trouble at all. Like I said, I was going to stop there on my way home.”

“Let me give you some money,” Greg offered.

I waved him off. “No. You guys fed me last time. I got this.”

Greg looked like he wanted to debate me but didn’t have the energy. “Thanks,” he said. “I really appreciate that. I’m going to go back to bed now.”

“You should change into dry pajamas,” I advised him.

He nodded and shuffled back to his room. His gait was like that of a zombie.

Mr. Varo grinned. “I really do like the meatloaf at Heartland’s.”

“I don’t doubt that.” I winked. “So meatloaf special then? You want the soup or salad?”

“I’d like salad, with French dressing. Get Greg the meatloaf too, with chicken soup.” Mr. Varo tried to reach for his wallet, but I swatted his hand.

“I told you, I got it.”

“Make sure you get something for yourself too. That way we can all eat together.”

 “I will.”

We resumed our weekly exam, and when I’d finished logging his results in the computer I rose to leave. “See you in a bit,” I said on my way out.

A half hour later I returned with three meatloaf dinners, chicken soup for Greg, and a salad for Mr. Varo. Greg was in the kitchen standing by the fridge. I noticed he’d changed into a T-shirt and sweatpants, and he’d also put on his pink robe.

My heart began to race. Then I felt bad I was having salacious thoughts when he was under the weather.

Mr. Varo began setting the table, putting out napkins, forks and knives. “I’ll get everyone some water,” he said.

Greg groaned. I wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to drink water or if he was in pain. Then he flopped into one of the dining chairs and put his elbows on the table to support his chin. His lips formed an adorable pout.

I turned my attention to the food, taking it out of the bags and removing the lid from the soup. “Be careful. It’s hot,” I warned Greg, as I slowly slid it in his direction.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, offering a weak smile. I felt like an idiot. Of course he’d know to be careful with hot soup. He reached for his spoon and pulled out some broth. As he blew on the liquid to cool it I watched his lips like a pervert.

“Sam. Do you want real plates or are the to-go containers fine?” Mr. Varo asked.

I looked up. I wasn’t paying attention but had heard part of it. “Whichever you prefer.”

“The fewer dishes to wash the better.”

I nodded, then placed a meal in front of everyone. Greg’s eyelids looked heavy, like he might not make it through dinner. We ate in silence. The only sound for the first few minutes was the half-hearted slurping of soup.

“Aren’t you going to eat any meat or potatoes?” Mr. Varo asked Greg. “They’ve got it all separated into sections the way you like it.”

Greg managed a small smile. Then he dug his fork in and took a bite. “It’s good, but I don’t think I can eat much right now. I’ll save it for later.” He wiped his lips with his napkin and stood. “I’m sorry, but I think the medicine I took is kicking in. I’m going to have to lie down.”

“Feel better,” I told him.

“Thanks,” he said, then gave me a little wave.

In his absence Mr. Varo and I continued to devour our food. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I had felt funny chowing down in front of Greg, but now that he wasn’t around, I cleaned my plate.

Mr. Varo stretched his arms over his head. “Gosh, that was tasty. Wasn’t it?”

“Agreed.” The empty container in front of me pretty much spoke for itself.

I stood and began straightening up, but Mr. Varo stopped me. “Why don’t you leave that Sam? You’ve already done enough. Maybe you could check on Greg before you leave?”

“Sure.” I still had to return his sweater anyway. I washed my hands in the sink, dried them on a dish towel and dug the cardigan out of my bag.

When I peeked in Greg’s room I noticed he was still awake. “Hey,” I said in a quiet voice. “I just wanted to return your sweater. Thanks so much.” I set it on top of his desk, being careful not to topple the tower of magnets stationed there.

“No problem.”

Even from across the room I could tell he was burning up again. I could see the sweat on his face. “Let me get you something before I leave,” I said. I went to the bathroom and ran a washcloth under cool water and rung it out. I returned, and gently placed it on his forehead.

“That feels good,” he said.

On impulse, I sat on the edge of the bed and gave him a sympathetic look.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Greg whispered. Then he took hold of my hand and closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.