Authors: Rhonda Dennis
“You’re a doctor, not a therapist. I don’t expect you to listen to my problems.”
“I offered and that’s a far cry from expecting it.”
“I don’t even know where to begin,” I say.
“A good starting place would probably be the marks on your neck. How did you get them?”
I draw my hands to my throat. “I didn’t know they still showed.”
“They’re not overly obvious, but to someone who is trained to spot things like that, it shows.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“It never is,” he says, slowly shaking his head.
“No, seriously. My husband, he’s a war veteran experiencing PTSD. He’d been hiding the severity of his condition from me for a long time, but recently, it came to light. He was sleeping on the sofa, and I woke him suddenly, and…”
“He attacked you.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t him. I mean it was his physical body, but I could see it in his eyes, my husband was gone.”
Robert nods. “Is it the first time he’s gotten physical?”
I shake my head. “Once, before we were married, but it was tame compared to this recent one. I love my husband dearly, and I know that he’d never do anything to intentionally hurt me. He’s a wonderful man, full of charm and charisma…”
“Hey, no one’s saying he’s a bad guy. Remember, I started as an army doc. I’ve seen PTSD. I’m sure your husband is a great man, but I do hope he seeks treatment.”
“He has. I guess that’s one of the main reasons I was crying. He’ll be gone for at least a month. The facility he’ll be going to is in Colorado, and we’ve never been apart for that long. Plus, I worry that the treatment might not work this time. What’s his life going to be like then?”
“If he’s going to the place I’m thinking of then you can rest assured that he’ll get the best care available. They work wonders with vets, and I’m sure you’ll see that many of your fears are unfounded.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he says in a self-assured tone.
“Thank you for listening.”
“Of course. Look, here’s all my contact information, including my cell number.” He scribbles a number on the back of a business card. “If you or your husband wants someone to talk to, needs some advice or questions answered, just call. Anytime. Day or night.”
“Thank you so much, Robert. This means a lot to me.”
“I’m happy to do it. You’ve had your crying session, a quick counseling session, and now I’m going to shoo you out so I can catch a nap before my next rotation.” He gives me a playful wink.
“Seriously? I pour my heart out to you, and you’re going to make me leave?” I chide.
“Yep. Hit the lights when you go, please.”
“Fine,” I say, opening the door slightly then pausing. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Eric the vampire from the TV show
True Blood
?”
“I get that all the time,” he says with a smile. “I guess I should watch an episode to see just how much I resemble this guy.”
“I’m glad to hear that it’s not just me who thinks so.” With that parting comment, I switch off the light and head home.
The house is dark when I arrive, and nerves make my stomach clench into a tight ball.
Maybe Ben and Fletcher are having such a great time together that they decided to get some supper?
I open the door, click on the light, and I’m greeted with a chorus of “surprise!”
“What’s going on?” I ask, completely perplexed. Molly, Julia, and Lizzy, all wearing tiaras and fluffy ball gowns, smile radiantly.
“It’s your princess party! Uncle Fletcher said you never had one growing up, but that you really wanted one. Look, we have a gown for you, and a tiara, and presents, and cake, and…”
“Molly, leave a little for her to discover on her own, please.”
“Sorry, Mom,” she says. “This is going to be so much fun!”
“Your gown, your highness,” Lizzy says, passing me a gorgeous solid white ball gown.
“I don’t know what to say,” I stammer.
“You don’t have to say anything. Go put on your gown.”
After dumping an armload of books onto the counter, I take the dress from Lizzy and head to the bedroom. When I come out, I admit to the girls that I’m feeling a little silly.
“I think it’s incredibly sweet and romantic that your husband came up with this plan. I have to admit that I’m a little jealous,” Lizzy says. “Fletcher called me up and said he wanted you to experience a memory you were robbed of during your childhood. He had no idea what went into putting together a princess party, so he left it all to me. I’m so glad these stinking pageant gowns are finally being put to a good use.”
“So what does happen at a princess party?” I ask.
“Well, if I remember right, we’d giggle a lot. Talk about our future Prince Charmings. Get mad at each other at least once. Eat candy non-stop, top it off with a hunk of cake and ice cream, then go home and drive our parents mad because of the sugar rush. After that came the sugar coma and the inevitable sugar crash,” Lizzy answers.
“Yeah, that sounds about right, except you left out the part about the cheesy games we’d play,” Julia adds.
“Oh, my gosh! The stupid games where we used to scare ourselves silly at slumber parties! Do you remember those? Light as a Feather and Bloody Mary! I still feel apprehensive when I look into a mirror when the room’s dark,” Lizzy excitedly conveys. Julia nods.
“Light as a Feather? What?” I ask.
“They’re sleepover games, Aunt Savannah. You never played them?”
I shrug while shaking my head. “Should I have?”
“Nah, it’s just one of those things that kids do to scare the heck out of each other. You didn’t miss out on much,” Julia says.
“Or did she? I think she should play Bloody Mary at least once,” Lizzy teases.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “What does Bloody Mary have to do with a princess party?”
“It’s a childhood game, one you missed out on. Come on!” Lizzy pleads.
“Okay, how does it work?”
“You have to go into the dark bathroom, stare into the mirror, and say ‘Bloody Mary’ three times, and you have to say it loud enough for us to hear you,” Lizzy explains.
“And what’s supposed to happen?” I ask.
“She shows up, covered in the blood of her victims, and she reaches through the mirror to scratch off your face!” Lizzy makes a clawing motion with her hand for added effect.
“That’s it? That’s all I have to do?” I inquire, not impressed.
“Yep,” Lizzy says.
“All of your faces are intact.” I remark.
“I never made it to the third repetition,” Lizzy answers.
“Me either,” Julia seconds.
“I got scared as soon as they closed the door. I never said it once,” Molly admits, wide-eyed.
“Really? You sure are a bunch of chickens,” I tease.
The group giggles from behind as I make my way into the bathroom. I turn out the lights, and Lizzy closes the door.
“What did you do that for?” I ask.
“Remember, it has to be super dark,” she yells through the door.
“Whatever. Okay, here I go. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mar…,” I scream loudly as I throw open the door, and they scream, too. The looks on their faces are absolutely priceless! Lizzy’s gripping her chest, Julia looks confused, and Molly, well, she is a mix between the two.
“Did you see something?” Lizzy excitedly asks. “What was it?”
“It was just as you told me. There was this woman in a long white dress, but it wasn’t covered in blood or anything…,” I start to explain.
Lizzy’s face goes from terrified to not amused. “You’re talking about yourself, right?”
I smile broadly. “Uh huh.”
“You scared the hell out of me!” Julia exclaims, plopping onto the sofa.
“Y’all were trying to scare the hell out of me!” I say with a laugh.
“Okay. Moving on. Who wants to talk about boys?” Lizzy asks.
“My talk would be boring because our lives are pretty much open books,” I explain.
“Mine, too,” Lizzy says.
“But not Julia. What’s going on in the man department, huh?” I prompt.
“Not much,” she answers, wriggling uncomfortably in her seat.
“She went on three dates with Mr. Henry,” Molly chimes in. Julia sends her a look that says “shut it,” but it’s too late.
“Mr. Henry? Who’s Mr. Henry? Why haven’t I heard of him?” I tease.
“Because, there’s no guarantee that it will go anywhere, and I don’t have to tell you every bit of my business. Okay?” she says with a huff.
“I saw them kissing in the driveway,” Molly says with a giggle. Julia looks embarrassed. “And I’m pretty sure they used tongue.”
“Molly!” Julia fusses while Lizzy and I roar with laughter.
“Did you, Julia? Was there tongue?” Lizzy asks.
“Wait, I still want to hear who this Henry guy is,” I chime in.
“He’s my teacher!” Molly says with a giggle.
“What! No way! You’re not dating him to boost her grades, right?” Lizzy teases.
“Of course I’m not!” Julia snaps after shooting Molly another dirty look. “We just happen to share a common interest in history.”
“Sounds like you share more than that!” I say with a laugh.
“Okay, that’s enough. Here’s the deal. We met the night of the school carnival; the same night I met you, Savannah. He gave me his number, but I never called him. I wasn’t ready to see anyone yet. We’d run into each other occasionally when I’d visit the school, and each time he’d tell me he was still interested. Though I appreciated it, the timing still wasn’t right. Fast forward to a month ago, and Princess Molly here conveniently forgets her history book in my car. I run inside to drop it off at the front office, but I run into Henry in the hall. Literally. Like I bowled him over, and we fell into a heap on the floor. He helps me up and apologizes profusely the entire time, even though we both know the fault was all mine.”
“Awww, I’m loving this story so much!” Lizzy exclaims.
“Well, it’s as I’m dusting myself off that I notice blood coming through the knee of my pant leg, and when Henry bends over to check it out, that’s when I notice the big lump forming on the back of his head. We’re sitting in the school nurse’s office…”
She’s interrupted by laughter from me and Lizzy.
“You both wound up in the school nurse’s office! This is priceless!” Lizzy squeals.
Julia continues her story, “Well, while we’re waiting for the school nurse to arrive, we start talking about Molly, about current events, about our pasts. He tells me that he lost his wife four years ago in a car accident, so we both know what it’s like to lose a spouse to a tragic circumstance. After the nurse patched up our injuries, he asked me if I’d like to meet for a cup of coffee. I accepted, and now you know everything.”
“Well, not everything. You still haven’t told us if there was tongue,” Lizzy says with a giggle.
“Maybe a little,” Julia says, blushing. We all laugh loudly, while throwing her an encouraging comment here and there. “Who wants cake?” she asks, desperate to change the subject.
Everyone excitedly sits around the kitchen table, and partakes in some light-hearted conversation while devouring the scrumptious princess cake. Lizzy went all out for this party. There are princess plates, cups, napkins—even the forks had crowns adorning the handles.
As the chatter begins to wind down, I take advantage of the lull to thank everyone for helping me to fulfill a childhood dream.
“Most of the thanks goes to your husband,” Lizzy says. “He was very insistent that you get your princess party.”
“It amazes me what that man remembers. I say some things in passing, yet he seems to commit them to memory.”
“He’s always been that way,” Julia remarks. “He’s incredibly thoughtful, and he loves to surprise people.”
“Yeah, he does,” I say with a content sigh.
“Speaking of, I see headlights in the driveway. I guess the guys are back,” Lizzy informs.
“Perfect timing. This one has school tomorrow,” Julia says, scooting her chair under the table.
“Don’t feel bad, Molly. So does this one,” I say with a grimace.
“Yeah, but you’re almost done, Aunt Savannah. Do you know how many years I have left?”
“Don’t rush those years; enjoy them,” I advise.
“Mom tells me the same thing.”
“She’s right. They both are,” Lizzy offers.
“If you say so,” Molly says with a shrug.
Ben and Fletcher come through the door, and I know right away that Fletcher isn’t feeling well. His face in incredibly pale and sweat glistens on his forehead. I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to his situation, so I give him a quick kiss before taking his hand and leading him in the direction of the bedroom.
“We’ll be right back,” I inform. “Please, if any of you want to bring some cake home, feel free to take as much as you want.”