Something To Dream On (40 page)

Jensen wraps his arms around me with caution, minding my bruised ribs. “I am so proud of you. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in the stress of life that I forget why I am going to school. It’s not just to better me; it’s to better the world. We can do better. Everyone can, they just need to find their way.”

My notes get tossed aside. As I drift off to sleep, Harold’s voice enters my head, “Close, but you're not there yet.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Sunday, July 30

Harold asked what I would do with the privileged knowledge I have acquired. I’m starting to understand just how much I absorbed, not only about others, but also about myself.
 

I thought my transformation started when Jensen brought Etta into Good Samaritan. When it actually happened was when I hit that Escape key, and I told the universe that it didn't have the right to dictate my future. Then Harold showed me that just because you stand up to the universe doesn't mean you shouldn't listen when it tries to guide you. The universe helps those who help themselves.

I hate that I never considered the girl who wronged me was hurting far worse. I also despise that her words, brought on by her own lack of self-respect, brought me down solely because I let them. Not only did I let her ruin my body image, I let her damage my spirit. I can blame others, and I can seek help, but in the end, it is up to each of us to choose what direction we spin the Wheel of Fortune.

Jensen has proven that spirits can be repaired. His was ripped to shreds with the loss of his brother, but he’s taken the reins and changed his life. But sometimes we can’t see what we need to do, or don’t have the strength to act on it. Maybe it means we are weak, or maybe there are factors that others don’t see. Someone has to help Laura, because so many have abused her that she needs to be shown she is worthy of life.

All this is a pep talk, because what I am doing is crazy, stupid, and somewhat self-abusive, but in the depths of my heart, I know it is right. Without boundless compassion, we are nothing, but what I am doing is also a gift to myself. It brings me closer to releasing a burden that I never should have carried.

With the arrangements made, I grab my yellow note pad and scratch a zero off the end of my dress budget. I could look at it bleakly, since I almost died for something I am not getting anyway. Instead, I accept that helping a fellow soul, even if it is one that on some levels I’ll always despise, is far more important than spending a few hours in a ridiculously expensive dress.
 
Maybe the accident was the only way to make me see that a dress can’t bring anyone a life of happiness, but I can.

On a fresh sheet of paper from the pad that holds my dreams, I write a note to be mailed from another city. On this day in an alternate time, Jensen prayed for whatever Laura needed to recover. The love from the prayer is out there and calling me to act.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Tuesday, August 1

Larry bursts into my room—even though the door is shut and I could well be indecent. Of course a closed door won’t stop him, but some days I like to think he is capable of showing a drop of respect. Stupid people like me never stop dreaming.

I don’t get a good morning, or afternoon, or whatever time it is out of him. Not even a fuck off. An envelope is tossed onto the bed. He doesn’t bother to put a little spin on it to make it interesting. Much like everything else around here, even his flick is boring.

It’s got no return address. What a crappy job hand addressing junk mail would be.

The thing gets tossed. I plan for it to hit the floor. Instead it ricochets off of the wall and onto my pillow. Weird shit like that usually blows my mind, but when I am practically sober, it just freaks me out.

I hold the thing up to the beam of sunlight coming through the window. Whatever is inside looks handwritten, too. Sure. I’ll bite, even though it is probably taken off of a printer and made to look real.

Dear Laura,

Please forgive the intrusion, but for a while now, I have watched you battle demons.

The fuck?

This is not an act of sympathy, it is a gift of caring. Arrangements have been made for you at the Gann Rehabilitation Center. Thirteen weeks of meetings have been prepaid. All you need to do is call and ask for Dave. Please do not put him in an uncomfortable position by asking who arranged this. He won't tell you anyway. The moment you show up for the first meeting, I will be billed for the entire program, so please keep that in mind.
 

My throat starts closing in, and I blink to clear the water that is welling in my eyes. This is a joke, right? It’s not funny, because I want it to be true so badly that I have to hold my breath to keep reading. I can’t function and look at this at the same time.

Once you are done, there is a job waiting for you in Red Bluff. The salary isn’t much, but it comes with a small apartment.

Whoever is playing this joke is winning, because they’ve got my eyes burning. I have to put the note down for a moment. Seeing it while knowing it is a joke is too cruel.

It would mean a huge move for you, but I am certain that, deep down inside, this is something you have been praying for.

I filth up my sheet while wiping away mascara-stained tears so I can see. This is so not funny!

Please don't let yourself down.

With Love,

The person whose life you changed

Praying for? Yes, every minute since Jensen bailed and basically called me out as being not worth his time. If this is real, he must be on some crazy guilt trip. That’s the only way anyone would give a shit.

This isn’t Jensen’s handwriting. His looks like a chicken had a seizure. This is all circles and swirls. He must have made up with mommy and had her write it.

The envelope has a postmark from San Lorenzo. Who the crap lives there?

How dare someone fuck with me like this? This thing needs to be shredded and tossed.

The sound of the ripping paper hits my ears, and I freeze.

I can’t tear this. I so want this to be true that I can’t destroy it. I
need
this to be true. Someone showing they care is my only hope.

I Google the place into my phone. This has to be a hoax, and I won’t be foolish enough to play into the hand of someone who is jerking me around.

The name comes up—repeatedly.

The place exists?

There are Yelp reviews from as far back as five years ago. Hell, they even have a Facebook page. The phone number on the note matches the one on the website. Still …

My jittery fingers can barely press the numbers on my phone. I down a swig of tequila as the other end rings, then another when the lady who answers says she’s transferring me to Dave. If this is fake, I’m gonna lose my shit, but if it is real …

If it is real, I’m gonna drop my knees to the floor in shock that God doesn’t just exists for others, He exists for me too.

I lose my ability to take in air as Dave confirms that all I need to do is show up. Somebody actually forked over a small fortune for thirteen weeks of appointments and group therapy. They couldn’t afford accommodations, but there is a halfway house nearby. Dave assures I’ll be safe there and will hold on to any belongings I’m afraid will get stolen. It sounds like he may actually care about me, too.

A weight floats off of my back and is replaced by an invisible blanket that wraps around me. I changed a life? When people say that, it’s about something that was done for the better. I’ve been good to no one.

It must be Jensen, because giving him that heroin caused him to shape up. Everyone else I know is passed out in the living room, and all I’ve done for them is—

Well, it’s not worth saving me over.

The letter trembles in my hands as I grip it to my chest and cry so hard I am nearly screaming from the release of all of the fears I’ve had buried inside. Ten minutes ago I wanted to die, now I’ve found that there is one person out there who cares. Someone doesn’t want me to rot in a gutter or to be used anymore. Dare I think that person must actually love me a little?

My knees hit the ground, and my head follows as I bow to whatever it is that is so powerful, it is making the impossible happen.

Thank you, God. Thank you for showing someone I am worth caring about. I absolutely promise I will not let either of you down.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Wednesday, August 2

Larry lies on the sofa, watching cartoons and nursing a fifth of Jack. I hang out in my room, standing near the threshold and shaking while awaiting opportunity. Finally, Larry heads off to pee, and I’m in action. The powder gets swirled into his bottle. Shaking it would form air bubbles. I can’t risk him noticing anything different, and I certainly can’t risk him waking.

The jingle of his buckle tells me he’s just about done. I need to be out before he flushes. God knows he won’t stop to wash his hands. I manage to make it back to my room before the bathroom door opens. I wait.
 

Finally, he passes out. I slip into the rafters in the garage and nab Larry’s secret cash stash. There’s a few grand in here. I must be hitting it mid-deal. There’s gonna be hell to pay when someone doesn’t get their score because Larry
misplaced
their funds.

With nothing but the clothes on my back and the cashed crammed into my boots, I walk under the cover of stars to the bus stop, then get lost in the shuffle of public transportation. I’m changing everything about me, including my name. Laura Muler just died.