Yeah? Well, get out. I didn’t invite you in.
Just listen to me a moment, Taylor.
I’ve had enough of listening to you. I’m too trailer trash to listen, anyway. Remembering that I could do anything in my dreams, I jumped out of the car, letting it dissolve in midair, and ran for the side of the road, diving off the cliff before I heard him say anything else. I quickly floated hundreds of feet down the bluffs to the beach with the pounding surf, enjoying the exhilaration of a modified free fall. In spite of the wet rocks, I felt secure standing there, the spray refreshing against my face.
I also didn’t want to feel the pain of his earlier rejection and wanted to just shut off any thoughts or images of him.
I was angry, believing you weren’t who I thought you were, and I wanted to hurt you. He was floating in front of me, not quite standing on the rocks. He’d followed me down to the water.
Congratulations. It worked.
Don’t you want to know what all this is about?
Not really. Though I kinda did.
Regardless, I need to tell you. I don’t believe the break-ins are a coincidence. You’re in danger, and until I eliminate the danger to you, you’re stuck with me.
The hell I am. You aren’t going to know where I am. I’ve already got plans to move. I’m leaving the apartment and finding someplace where I can be left alone.
I jumped and imagined soaring like a bird along the top of the water. Ryder had been right when he said you could do anything in a dream. I was skimming along the top, faster and faster. I did sharp turns, twirls, flips and caught an updraft back to the car I’d started my dream in. It was waiting for me at the top of the bluffs, sunlight shining off the glossy black paint.
Ryder was leaning against it, looking scrumptiously hot and wickedly male with a pair of shades. My body still responded to him against my will, but I couldn’t outrun my hurt feelings. I couldn’t forget that he saw me as lesser. He needed to leave me alone, so I could get on with my life.
I can’t leave you alone. His deep voice was a soft rumble. I... He frowned. His eyes seemed to be trying to tell me something that wouldn’t pass over his lips.
What? I snapped.
His expression turned to stone. He tightened his lips in a grim line. I need to take care of you.
Gee, thanks for all that care. Even my dream voice was shaky with emotion. I got in my car. With as much sarcasm as I could muster, I said, Do me a favor and stop caring so much, okay? Stay away from me.
Taylor, listen to me! Will you quit being so stubborn? I’m trying to protect you! His deep voice gently rolled over my spirit, making me want to melt, but I had to take a stand at some point, didn’t I? I couldn’t always be a walking target.
You have a funny way of doing it. I’m going to go look for my mom. You aren’t invited.
Leaving Ryder by the side of the bluffs, I continued down the long, lonely road by the ocean with the wind in my hair, the sun on my skin and tears on my cheeks. Maybe I could find that place of contentment in Key West that had allowed her to forget her worries. Maybe then I’d be okay. Where was she? Why did she leave me? I just wanted to be able to ask that question. What could I have done to make her stay?
The road was long and continuous. It never ended, even though I always felt like I could see a destination in the distance. Like a mirage, a glint of sunlight glaring off something metal, some kind of city or town just ahead, prolonged my hope and kept me driving. I never seemed to get there though. The road just continued. Alone. Me and the road.
A seagull swooped along lazily, catching updrafts and gliding without having to flap its wings, following me on this fruitless drive, and I silently thanked it for not giving up on me. It was the first time that a living creature had traveled with me in this dream.
I couldn’t help but wish with all my heart that someone in the world would think I was special, but maybe there was the lesson. Maybe I needed to learn that I was special. And if I really learned it, maybe it would be enough.
Chapter Six
My dreams were not restful.
I kept looking for Ryder to crop up, still sensing that he was in my dream. I refused to look at whether I was satisfied or disappointed that I didn’t see him again. By the time my alarm went off, playing “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,” I was exhausted and tempted to call in sick. I’ve never called in sick. My attendance in school and at work was, and continues to be, flawless, which is what kept me from drowsing under the covers morosely.
“Act as if,” I muttered, thinking of a Dr. Phil-ism, a useful tool from my TV watching, which was likely the only positive thing I got from TV. If I acted on the outside as if everything was great, maybe I’d start feeling that way on the inside. And maybe Dr. Phil wasn’t referring to a situation where one was robbed, used and abused, but it helped me pull myself out of bed and find my slinky, sexy but perfectly professional office dress. The one that was guaranteed to make the men take notice, which I figured would give my ego a boost.
It was fitted, from the V-shaped neckline that hinted at my cleavage, and was long enough to reach just below my knees. It was a summery olive-green linen, with short sleeves and a hidden zipper up the side. I added a dark brown, wide leather belt and matching strappy platforms, eyeing the effect in the mirror with approval. I looked hot. It made me feel better.
I clipped my hair up, with tendrils loose about my face. My hair isn’t long enough to be in a real bun, and the style I adapted makes me look a bit wild and sexy. Expertly, I applied makeup and perfume. In no way did I want even remotely to feel trailer. I wanted to look sophisticated. Elegant. Satisfied that no one would know what a crazy, flipped-out weekend I’d had, I grabbed my bag and keys.
As an afterthought, I grabbed my mother’s charm bracelet from my nightstand, somehow needing the comfort of it—though why it comforted me, I don’t know. She herself had never been a source of comfort even once in my entire life. But just looking at the bracelet infused me with warmth. Go figure, right? Maybe I kept hoping. Pretty stupid, really.
It was seven in the morning, and like clockwork, Mrs. Myrtle, the elderly woman who lives with her daughter across the street, came out for her walk. She couldn’t see well and her hearing was off, but she insisted on crossing the busy boulevard two blocks down during rush-hour traffic to get to her granddaughter’s school early. She was a volunteer and thrived on tutoring the younger children, reading to them, whatever the teacher needed. Her hair was short and snow-white, shaped in a bob around her face, and she usually wore loafers with slacks and a button-down shirt, every inch the proper lady.
“Good morning, Mrs. Myrtle. How are you today?” I couldn’t let her cross alone. I always made sure to be out by seven because I knew that her daughter and granddaughter somehow didn’t have the time. Ever. Didn’t they know how lucky they were to have her? She was so fragile looking; a fall could do her in. Why didn’t they think of that?
“Taylor, I’m doing very well, thank you.” She had a genteel way of speaking that was at once kind and respectful, though she seemed a bit distracted as she gave me her usual warm smile. “And don’t you look wonderful, dear.”