A Brilliant Ride (9 page)

I was running as fast as my slippered feet would take me, and as I passed the long mirror just to the left, I caught a glimpse of my panicked face. My wedding gown was tattered, and I couldn’t get the tiny mouse to let go of my veil.

“Stop running so fast; you’re going to spoil your dress. Stop running. Geesh, you act like you’re going to miss the train,” said the small rodent. “Hey, I can’t keep up with you; I’m only little you know!” The little brown mouse was screaming in a high-pitched voice.

As I ran faster, I realized I was running down a very long whitewashed hallway. At the end of the hallway was a large silver locomotive with a roaring engine. I tried desperately to reach it, but something was tugging on my veil. “I haven’t time for this.” I pulled it off and continued my mad dash for the waiting train.

“Oh, now look what you’ve done,” screamed the mouse. “You’ve lost your halo.” The little mouse was running beside me now, laughing wildly. “Here, look at yourself. You look dreadful.” The mouse handed me a small compact with the initials O.Y.E engraved on the top.

I opened it slowly and peered at myself in disbelief. I looked haggard and disheveled.

“See, I told you. You really should slow down. I’m having trouble keeping up with you. I’m your friend…I’m
only trying to help you.”

As I approached the train, I saw Sam standing inside one of the compartments sippin
g a glass of champagne. Dressed in a top hat and tails, he was smiling broadly.

“Wait, wait…I’m coming Sam. Wait for me!”  I ran faster, but it was too late. The door slammed shut, and the train departed in a cloud of white smoke.

“Oh, what a pity,” the little mouse cried. “You looked, but you didn’t see.”

“What are you talking about?” Tears streamed down my face.

“The compact…you look, but you don’t see. You need to pay closer attention to the little things,
the details
.” The rodent pointed to the engraved initials, O.Y.E.

“What does it mean
?”

“Open Your Eyes.”

The creature laughed wildly and vanished.

I looked back to the departing train. The driver of the gleaming locomotive was looking back at me, waving. My eyes narrowed. The driver was a large rat with big brown eyes.

I must have known. I must have felt his absence as I slept, because I jumped up with a start and searched the other side of the bed. It was empty, and I felt my stomach drop. I looked at the clock. It was 2:00am, and Sam was nowhere in sight.

I got up and went to the window. The ocean was shining in the moonlight. The palms were swaying in the night breeze, and lights were twinkling in the distance. Everything was the same, but everything was different. I felt sick and thought about my next move. Should I call the front desk? What would I say? Perhaps there had been an accident?

Just then, the door opened, and he came in, drunk. He smelled of liquor and cigarettes, smiling that huge Sam smile that opens so many doors for him.

“Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick,” I held my stomach.

“Oh, you’re still up,” he snorted. “I went for cigarettes and met some guys from school. You should have been there Pen,” he sputtered. “We had a blast. You really are such a bore, you know.” He stumbled over to
the bed and took his shoes off with a smirk. “You know, Pen, I think we should stay another week. Things are just starting to perk up around here.” He laughed.

I turned to face him and caught a
glimpse of myself in the mirror. My heart sank. My starry eyes replaced with a look of fear and sadness. Stupidly, I thought I was enough. Obviously, I was mistaken.

I stood perfectly still in total silence, as I watched him sway and spew insults. I felt every muscle in my body constrict, and my eyes welled up with large salty tears.

“I can’t believe this. It’s our honeymoon, for God’s sake,” I said, quivering. “I don’t even know what to say to you. You’ve really hurt me.”

I felt my stomach heave
and placed my sweaty palm against it, trying to calm the storm inside. I felt like I was falling through the sky with nothing but a crashing fall to look forward to in the end. There was nothing more to say. The sight of Sam swaying back and forth with that crooked grin on his face was nauseating. I turned and went into the bathroom.

After what felt like an eternity, I felt strong enough to run the bath. Soaking in the warm water did nothing to erase the emotional pain I felt, but it did ease the tension in my body.

Later that
day
, after spending two hours trying to soothe my tattered emotions in the hotel’s spa, I returned to our room. I found two dozen roses and a small velvet box waiting for me.

Sam was sitting by the window with that little boy look on his face… the look that unfailingly caused me to soften and melt. He looked shaky with hangover.

“I’m sorry, my love. I drank too much and made a complete fool out of myself. I was just letting off steam. You know… it just all hit me…the reality of being married. What can I say?” He got up and sunk his hands into his pockets. Chin down, his eyes looked up at me like a child waiting to be punished for some adolescent antic.

I stood motionless, a complete loss for words, and tightened my fist against my thigh.

“Oh, Pen,” he said softly. “Come on, Je t'adore, ma cherie,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. Look, I met those guys, and I stepped right back in time. Please forgive me.”

He approached me, and I stiffened. As he neared, I felt myself tremble. Hatred rose up in me like a great heat, then the love I had for him counteracted, causing an uncomfortable unsteadiness that caused me to stumble. He was quick to catch my arm and pulled me tightly, crushing me into him. He still smelled of liquor and cigarettes, and I turned my head. Too weak to pull away, I let him clutch me and accepted his apology.

“I’m sorry; you know you’re my girl, my lucky penny. Last night…that was just the booze talking, not me. It will never happen again.”

I should have spun on my heels at that very moment. I should have listened to the voice screaming in my head, paid attention to the deep gnawing hole in my gut. I should have known right then and there what the future would be. It was a pivotal moment, and I blew it. It was all sketched out before me, and I chose to look the other way, to believe in the fairy tale and not the reality of the situation. I chose not to really look at Sam. Instead, I held on to the dream of Sam – the fairy tale - the Sam I created in my mind.

Distraught, I didn’t want to argue anymore. And, I certainly didn’t want to go home with my head down, after one week of marriage, and announce to the world my marriage was over. I convinced myself it was a one-off and would never happen again. After all, Sam had too many good qualities to consider. And, surely, everyone is allowed to falter. It wasn’t fair of me to be so judgmental. He didn’t mean to hurt me.

B
ut he did hurt me - very deeply - and it mattered.

Nothing really changed after our honeymoon. “
Leopards don’t change their spots,” Blossom would often tell me. “Miss Penelope, you gotta change the wheel; get it to spin in another direction.”

Blossom started singing
gospel songs almost hourly. I wasn’t sure whether this was a comfort or a grating annoyance. At any rate, it was a sure sign something was up.

“You know, I keep feeling like someone is standing behind me all the time.” Blossom’s
big brown eyes widened. “I think this house is haunted. Now, I can tell you some stories about ghosts that were haunting a couple back home, in Jamaica. No, no, no…Ms. Penelope. Believe me; you don’t want to go through that. That wouldn’t be good at all!”

I stared back at her with knitted eyebrows. She might be on to something. I was noticing some strange goings on myself.

“Yes, I keep finding my book in a different place, and three times this week the house alarm went off. Now you know that can’t be, Ms. Penelope, because that house alarm is broken. You know that fool carpenter cut the wires…by accident.” She gave me “the look” and tutted loudly. “And what about these lights! They keep going on and off…and the washing machine went on all by itself today. I think we need to call one of those
Ghost Bangers
to come here to Avery Lane and do some kind of clearing.” Blossom looked really rattled.

“You mean Busters.” I giggled.

“Yes, and another thing, I could swear I saw someone standing at the end of the hall upstairs. When I looked again, there was no one there. Aha, this place sure has some strange things going on,” she continued, while fingering the large wooden rosary beads she recently took to wearing around her neck.

I wonder if we’re all completely stressed out in this house. I had to admit that I, too, thought I saw a figure up on the second floor landing.

“Umm, I think I’ll call Phyllis. She has all these books that deal with all sorts of metaphysical phenomenon. Maybe she can help…”

“Oh Lord, don’t be calling Ms. Phyllis,” Blossom cried. “She can’t help us. She thinks because she wears all those crystal pendants and colored scarves…I think she’s some kind of witch doctor!” Her eyes flashed. “And that hu
sband of hers…I saw him at the dry cleaners; he slapped me on my back so hard I fell on the counter.”

“Ha, ha…
Frank’s harmless,” I laughed out loud.

Blossom wasn’t convinced. “Miss Penelope, if you call her we’ll have more trouble from the spirit world than we do right now. She’s not right in the head. Just last week, Ms. Phyllis caught me at the butcher. She was going on and on about some colored disks, said they should be spinning in my body. Then, she told me to stay away from bad Carmen. I don’t know even know anyone named Carmen.”

“Carmen?”

“Yes, bad Carmen.”

“Oh, ha, ha, ha…you mean karma, bad karma.”

“Please!” Blossom held up her hand, like a stop sign. “She got me spooked.”

I had to admit; maybe Phyllis wasn’t the right person for the job.

“Okay, well I’ll put some thought into it, Blossom.”

“Yes, please do. I don’t want my little sugarplums getting scared. Sarah said she saw a ghost in her closet. Now, I know little girls have big imaginations, but she looked very serious.”

The next day I had plans to meet Claudia at the gym. It was our routine, three times a week. I got there early and jumped on a treadmill. Moments later Claudia bolted in, out of breath. She looked agitated, and as she neared, I could see she was perspiring quite a bit.

“Geesh, did you run here?”

“Oh, no, rushing around; that’s all…a lot going on. Sorry I’m late.” She looked at me intently. I noticed she was shaking, and her hair was quite messy. Not the usual every hair in place she’s known for.

She started stretching and looked at me sideways, “Hey, what’s with you? Something’s different,” she said. “Darling, what have you done? You’re glowing. What’s your secret? And don’t tell me you’v
e been drinking that tonic Phyllis keeps trying to push on me…you know, that green gook - groove juice - something or other. Isn’t that what she calls it? How the hell does she drink that stuff? It’s putrid.” She looked in the mirror and finger-combed her hair nervously.

“Oh, no…not me; I can’t even look at that stuff.” I looked down at myself, pleased with my new workout ensemble. An excuse to shop, I decided to splurge and purchased all the top of the line workout gear I could find in an effort to speed up my frump to fabulous makeover. “I’m just being more mindful, that’s all…soul searching, sort of,” I said. “Ha, I know…deep, right? Don’t worry; I’m not going all granola. It’s just that I’m feeling different, hard to explain.” I walked over to the leg extension and increased the weight. “I started charting my future.”

“Huh?” Claudia wrinkled up her nose.

“Yes. I started a dream list.”

“What the heck is a
dream list
?”

“It’s a list of all the positive things I want to add to my life…sort of like a mental scrapbook of uplifting visuals. I know it sounds silly, but as my list grows, and I review it in my mind, it gives me hope, makes me happy.”

Claudia was throwing weights around the gym like a pro, and I was taken with her amazing strength. “Sounds interesting,” she said.

“It’s a start,” I sighed. “I’m trying to get my spark back.”

“I hear ya.” Claudia stopped and looked off with a sad expression. “Maybe I should try it. So, tell me, what made you start all this?”

“The murder at Magnolia, I guess. It made me realize how short life can be, how it can be taken away in a flash. It pushed me to think about my future and how I want to live my life. I’ve been having these vivid dreams, as well.”

“Really, darling, do tell.”

“It’s odd; in my dreams I’m free and happy, floating along without a care, infused with an indescribable euphoria. When I wake up, I’m filled with hope, and all these great ideas come flooding into my mind.”

“Go on,” said Claudia, admiring her six-pack. I looked down and sucked my stomach in.