Survival Games (3 page)

Jessica woke and
dragged herself into the bathroom. It took every ounce of energy she had to
haul her tired body into the bathtub. She turned on the spout and sighed when
hot water actually came out, filling the tub and soaking with her eyes closed.

Bright blue
bedroom eyes
.
Where the hell have I seen them before?

The question ate
at her, gnawing, percolating, unanswered. She sat up, frustrated, and snatched
the shampoo bottle from the small shelf, lathering and rinsing before the water
cooled down completely. When she pulled herself out of the tub, she reached for
a towel and hesitated. Laid out on the closed toilet lid were clean clothes, a
nightgown and underwear, both of which were her size.

She dried off and
dressed, brushed her hair and teeth and stumbled on wobbly legs back into the
room. Sitting next to the mattress was a little tray of fresh fruit with some
bottled water. Jessica sighed in gratitude. She had no idea how long it had
been since she last ate and she devoured every last bite. After she was
through, she crawled to the bed, pulled the sheet up to her neck and curled up
in a ball. The lights went out and for a while Jessica stared into the darkness
sure he was going to come and do unspeakable things to her.

Slowly, she
relaxed into a state of meditation and the room dissolved around her, once again
replaced by her son’s room.

“Are you okay?”
Eric inquired, his eyes squinting with concern.

“Yes,” Jessica
responded.

“Did the bad man
come?” His eyes widened making his whisper ominous.

Jessica didn’t
know how to respond, she inhaled thinking of her captor’s blue eyes.

Eric shook his
head. “The bad man’s eyes are black.”

Before she could
ask what he was talking about, he took her hands, studying the cuts and bruises
surrounding both wrists.

“You’re hurt.” He
leaned over and pressed his lips to her palms. “That should make them better.”

Jessica’s eyebrows
arched. Tingling overtook her hands and the bruises faded, the cuts healed,
leaving her skin perfect again. She couldn’t believe it.

“See.”

“How?”

“Be careful, he’s
watching!” Eric looked over her shoulder.

Jessica turned her
head and her reflection stared back.

Eric was talking
in his sleep again and Daniel walked into the room to find him sitting up with
his hands in front of him as if holding hands with someone he couldn’t see.

Fear filled Eric’s
face and Daniel stepped toward the bed.

“Be careful, he’s
watching,” Eric said and looked at the wall near where he stood.

“Eric?” Daniel sat
on the bed.

Eric focused on
his father. “Mommy got hurt,” he said and tears welled up in his eyes. “I made
her better, but he was watching.”

Daniel looked at
the floor, inhaling, he chewed on the inside of his lip before meeting his
son’s gaze. “Honey, your mother died in a car crash.”

Eric looked straight
in his father’s eyes. “No, Daddy, she didn’t.”

Daniel took a deep
breath, the weight of his son’s denial pressing on his chest and he nodded, not
knowing what else to say to the boy. “Good night, Eric.” He leaned forward and
kissed his forehead, tucking him into bed before heading to his own room.

Sitting on the
edge of his own bed, he studied his room. Jessica’s things still occupied the
space they always had. Her clothes, her jewelry, her knickknacks, her books,
all still where she had left them. He reached under her pillow and pulled her
nightgown out and put it to his nose, closing his eyes and inhaling the
remnants of her scent like he did every night since she died.

He pulled the silk
away, realizing he shared some semblance of Eric’s denial.

“Damn it, Jess, why’d
you have to go and die?”

The ceiling had no
answer for him, neither did her knickknacks.

They needed some
help, Eric for his complete denial, Emily for her anger issues and he, he just
needed someone to talk to. He remembered the priest gave him a card and he dug
through the nightstand drawer and pulled it out, setting it next to the phone
for the morning.

With a deep
breath, he scrounged through the storage closet finding a couple empty paper
boxes and began the tedious job of packing her things. He held each item in his
hands, turning it over and over before slipping it into the box. Jewelry was
placed in two piles, one for Emily and the other in the storage box. The
knickknacks were the easiest items. The clothing was infinitely harder to put
away. Each item carried with it a hint of her scent, just like the nightgown
and with each item stored away; another piece of his heart broke. Tears no
longer came, just an all-encompassing emptiness that he never thought he’d fill
again.

When all the
closets and drawers and counters were clear, he sat and stared at the
collection of boxes representing her life. His jaw tightened and he blinked
back tears. “Damn you for leaving us.”

The boxes
disappeared into the basement storage space. He couldn’t bring them to the
Salvation Army. Not yet. He stripped and lay on his back, staring at the
ceiling, sliding the silk nightgown through his fingers as the clock ticked off
the hours.

The next morning,
after Daniel put the children on their busses for school, he grabbed the card
off his nightstand and studied it. LeAnn Sheehan, Grief Counselor. He dialed
the number and when a soft sweet voice picked up, he closed his eyes.

“Hi, my name is
Dan Connor. My pastor gave me your card after my wife died.”

“When did she pass
away?”

“Three months ago.
I’m calling for my kids. They aren’t adjusting very well,” he sighed.

“And you?” the
voice asked.

“I’m surviving,”
Daniel said. “Barely,” he added thinking of the nightgown stashed under his
pillow.

“Would you like to
come to my office, or would you like me to come to the house to see them?”

Daniel thought
about this for a moment and looked around the tidy kitchen and family room. “I
think the house would be better, the kids are comfortable here.”

“I can fit you in
either tonight or tomorrow, which is better for you?”

“Tonight would be
good. My son hasn’t accepted my wife’s death at all. He is in complete denial. My
daughter is just angry and I think it would be good for her to talk to someone,”
he paused. “To a woman.”

“And what do you
need, Dan?”

Daniel looked out
the window of his house. “I need my wife,” he whispered and the bitter taste of
tears filled his throat. He closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose
fighting for control of his emotions.

The line was silent
for a moment. “Where do you live?”

* *
* *

“Someone is
stopping by tonight to help us.” Daniel sat at the dinner table.

“Help us with
what?” Emily snipped and pushed the food on her plate around with a fork.

“With dealing with
your mother’s death.” He looked from his daughter to his son.

“Mommy’s not
dead,” Eric said and took a bite of food.

“Shut up you
stupid jackass!”

“Emily, don’t talk
to your brother like that!”

“You always take
his side!” She stormed away from the table.

Dan sighed and
hung his head for a moment. This had been a recurring theme at the dinner table
for the last three months.

The bell rang just
as Eric finished his homework. Daniel opened the door unprepared for his
reaction to the woman standing on the doorstep. Blonde and curvy in the right
places with smoky green eyes that mimicked the smile on her lips, the
combination caught his voice in his throat and the muscles in his stomach
fluttered.

“Um, hi. You must
be LeAnn?” He stumbled over his words and waved her inside.

She nodded and
followed the wave of his hand toward the back of the house. Eric looked up from
the table, closing his math book and tucking it away in his backpack.

“Eric this is, um,
Mrs, Miss Sheehan?” He looked at her for help.

She smiled. “Ms.
But you can call me LeAnn,” she said to Eric and sat down. “Do you mind if I
talk with you for a while?”

“Sure,” Eric said.

Daniel just stood
there.

“I’d like to talk
with Eric alone for a bit. You said you also have a daughter?”

Daniel nodded.

“I’ll sit down
with her after Eric and I talk a while.” She smiled and tilted her head for him
to leave.

“Oh,” Daniel said,
getting the hint. He left the room.

* *
* *

LeAnn looked at
Eric. “Tell me about your mom?”

Eric looked up at
her with his sweet brown eyes inherited from his mother. “She’s sleeping now,”
he said. “The bad man was watching her again today.”

“Where is she?”

Eric studied the tabletop
for a minute and his brow furrowed trying to best describe the concrete prison
that held his mother. “I’m not sure but it looks like the basement before Dad
made rooms down there.”

LeAnn nodded. “What
does the bad man do?”

“He likes to hurt
people.” Tears blurred his vision. “He wants to hurt my mom.” His brow creased
and he got a hint of LeAnn’s thoughts.

Jesus, this is
a little more detailed than any other denial fantasy I’ve encountered. How do I
handle this?
LeAnn put her arm around his shoulder. “It will be okay,
Eric.”

He raised his
eyebrows, looking at her as if she had two heads. “No it won’t.”

Not unless I
can get her to open that door.
However, he wasn’t about to tell a stranger
about the door deep inside his mother. Somehow, her capture triggered his
abilities. His ability to hear other’s thoughts had been supercharged the
minute she was grabbed in the parking lot. Now he didn’t need to concentrate to
hear what people were thinking, it was constant background noise in his head
and he could open the door in his mind at will, like he had with his mother’s
hands the other night. His door didn’t scare him the way hers did. She possessed
both the power to heal and a much darker more dangerous power.

He lowered his eyes
and studied his knuckles.

LeAnn took a deep
breath. “Eric.” She tilted his chin so he was looking at her. “Your mom is in
heaven now and I know this is very hard for you to understand, but sooner or
later, you will need to accept it.” She touched his face. “This fantasy that
you have concocted in your mind may seem real, but it isn’t, honey.”

“I don’t want to
talk with you anymore.” He got up to leave the room.

“Eric?”

He turned. “What?”

“I’m here anytime
you need to talk.”

He nodded and
walked out of the room.

* *
* *

LeAnn drew a deep
breath. Eric was only seven yet he seemed to hold the world on his shoulders,
and when reality set in, it would be very tough on the little guy. Her heart
went out to him.

Daniel walked in
with Emily.

“Emily, this is
LeAnn. She’s a grief counselor and I thought it would be good if you and Eric
talked to her.” He pulled out the chair for his daughter and pushed it in to
the table after she sat. Daniel nodded and left the room.

Emily sat with her
arms crossed, her lips pressed together in annoyance.

“Tell me about
your mother.”

“She’s dead.” Emily
glared at LeAnn.

“I know, but tell
me the things you remember about her.”

Emily’s eyes
softened a little. “She used to laugh a lot. She was a lot more fun than Dad.” Her
chin started to quiver. “I miss her.” The tears came.

LeAnn covered
Emily’s hand with her own.

“When will it stop
hurting?”

LeAnn closed her
eyes. “Honey, it never does completely stop, it just gets easier with each day
that passes. And as it gets easier, you can begin to cherish the time you had
with her more and more.”

“Dad finally
packed her things yesterday.” She looked down at her hands. “I used to go into
the closet and run my hands over her clothes, it made me feel better. Now there
is nothing left of hers to do that with.”

“Did you talk to
your father about that?”

“I can’t talk to
him about anything,” she said, her eyes held her pain.

“You can talk to
me anytime you need to.” LeAnn smiled and handed Emily her card.

Emily nodded
taking the card. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Can I go now?”

LeAnn nodded. “Send
your father in, please.”

Daniel walked into
the kitchen. She motioned for him to sit and he ignored the invitation. “Would
you like a cup of coffee?” he asked instead, heading over to the coffee pot and
pouring himself a cup.

“Sure.”

“How do you take
it?”

“Cream and sugar,”
she said.

“Do you mind
flavored creamer?” He asked, pulling the vanilla creamer from the refrigerator
showing it to her.

“My favorite.”

Daniel mixed the
coffee. “Jess didn’t drink coffee,” he said and put her cup in front of her,
taking the seat across the table. “I live on the stuff.”

“Me too,” LeAnn
said and took a sip. “Tell me about her.”

Daniel leaned back
in his chair and looked out the back door. “Jess and I, we could talk to each
other about anything and she certainly knew how to make me laugh.” He paused
and allowed a smile to form. “I can’t imagine never seeing her again.” He
looked back at LeAnn and his smile faded away. “I miss her.”

LeAnn nodded. “I
understand completely. I lost my husband almost two years ago and I still feel
the things you’re talking about. It does get easier with time, but...” she
trailed off.

Daniel laughed
bitterly. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me that I will get over it? I will live
again and love again? Isn’t that your job? ”

“Not really,”
LeAnn said. “I’m here to help you accept her death so you can move forward with
your life.”

Daniel stared into
his coffee, then back up at her, and nodded. “How are the kids doing?”

“Emily is doing
amazingly well. Sure, she’s angry, but that’s healthy and understandably, she
misses her mom. She was very upset with you for cleaning out your wife’s
things. They were a comfort for her,” LeAnn said.

Daniel closed his
eyes and lowered his head. “I thought that would make it easier.”

“It was the right
thing to do.” LeAnn took another sip of her coffee, her pink lipstick staining
the side of the cup.

Daniel stared at
the lipstick mark and something stirred inside him. He pushed the inappropriate
thoughts out of his mind and looked back into her green eyes.

“But Eric is
another story. While it is normal for younger children to make up fantasies
when in denial, I’m just a little worried at the vividness of his fantasy. He
seems to think a bad man has your wife and is going to hurt her. That is a
tough fantasy to stomach, especially since he already knows how it ends.”

Silence blanketed
the kitchen. Daniel’s coffee cup stalled halfway to his mouth as the reality of
her words set in. He slowly lowered the cup, staring at her; the horror of the
accident would be nothing in comparison to his son’s final fantasy.

“Jesus.”

LeAnn inhaled.
“I’d like to come by a couple times a week to talk to them for the next month
or so and then we can assess how often you need me after that. Does that work
with your schedule?”

Daniel thought it
would be good for his children to have someone to talk to and he nodded
consent.