Temptation: A Novel (21 page)

62. The Dream Is Never the Same

I can see her in the distance.

She’s not coming to me like she used to before I told her once and for all to leave me and my dreams alone.

Yet I can still see Jocelyn sitting on the deck behind her house. Lounging in the sun. She’s wearing sunglasses, so I don’t know if she sees me, but I can see her.

I look up and see dark skies above and wonder how she’s getting sun, but then I realize that she’s miles away. I look down and see the ground drop, as if I’m standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon. But this is deeper and wider.

I call out to her, but she doesn’t hear me. I keep trying, but she doesn’t even know I’m here.

“Chris?” a voice calls from behind.

I look behind me and see an old cabin. It looks like a haunted house, worse than the abandoned place Marsh used as his secret hiding place. At one of the windows is a face that I first recognize as Lily. But I look again and see that it’s not Lily but some monster with snakes on her head and holes for her eyes.

“Time for din-din, my love,” she says, opening her mouth and letting out a snake that was lodged back down there.

I’m feeling a bit woozy now.

“This is what you always wanted, what you always dreamed about. Come back in so we can make some babies.”

Then she starts to scream, and that’s when I wake up.

I might have spent the next few moments thinking about how big of a loser I am to be dreaming weird and wacky dreams like that one, but I hear a sound that makes me get out of bed.

It’s the sound of an engine running.

I go downstairs and see that it’s around two in the morning. No Mom is to be found.

Well, not until I look outside and see her car running, lights still on.

I go outside and feel the cool breeze against my bare legs and arms. When I get to the driveway, I don’t see anybody in the car.

Then I open the door, and Mom spills out of it. I mean literally spills out onto the driveway.

I wonder what’s happening until I see a big wad of something white sticking out of the tailpipe.

“Mom!”

As I reach down to lift her up, I really honestly believe that my mom is dead.

63. Coming Back Again

Cold harsh light.

Men and women, doctors and nurses, strangers busy at the hospital, asking for answers that I don’t know about insurance and coverage and physicians, asking what happened.

Empty hall.

A buzzing coming from somewhere.

Someone giving me a cup of coffee. Drinking it and forcing myself to finish it.

Waiting.

More questions.

Waiting longer.

Drifting off.

Wondering. About calling someone. Dad, of course. Dad certainly. Dad finally.

Denying.

Rejecting.

Fighting.

Refusing.

Closing my eyes. Drifting further.

“Oh, Chris.”

Mom utters this the moment I walk into the small room and come alongside the bed. Her face crinkles up, and she begins to cry. But it’s not just that. It’s the look on her face. It’s so sad. So sad, and probably ashamed.

I want to ask her things, but instead I just hug her.

She’s so skinny. I didn’t realize how bare-bones she really is.

There’s a lot you haven’t noticed.

She’s apologizing to me, and I feel tears in my eyes and I let the hug linger so I can get back control.

But everything in me knows that some of this—not all, and maybe not even half, but at least some of it—is my fault.

I’ve been the only one around and have been too blind to notice what’s happening.

I move away from her and stand looking down. I wipe the tears out of my eyes.

“I don’t know what happened, Chris, I really don’t.”

I nod.

“I didn’t—I was just out of my mind last night. Please—just sit for a minute.”

I take a seat in the armchair next to the bed. She’s hooked up to an IV and has a few other things connected to her. The people talking to me earlier said she’s going to be fine. But they said that in a cautionary way, as if she’ll be fine
this time.

“I haven’t told you everything,” Mom says.

Really? Well, join the crowd.

“There was someone I met at work. I—I mentioned him once to you.”

“Mike?”

She looks surprised that I remember.

“You were aiming a shotgun at me the day you mentioned him,” I say. “So yeah, the name stuck.”

“He broke things off—whatever they were.”

I might be young and stupid at times, but if a relationship causes me to get out the shotgun, something tells me that it’s probably not going to work out.

“Did you call Dad?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry—I was just wondering.”

“No. I haven’t spoken to him and don’t plan to.”

She looks away for a moment. “Turning forty was hard, Chris. Harder than I thought it would be. And Mike—he was a diversion. He allowed me to not think about everything I wanted that suddenly seemed gone. He made me feel …”

Those tears are in her eyes again. Then a weak voice says very softly, “. . . young again.”

That’s all she says about Mike.

I’ve got another name to add to the Push Off a Cliff list.

I sit there for a while, not saying anything. It’s ironic how she so desperately wants to feel young again, while I can’t wait to be old.

“Chris—things are going to get better.”

She’s said this before.

“No—I know—I know what you’re thinking. This time I’m going to get help. I have to. I just—there are some places I can check in to.”

I just nod.

“I mean it, Chris. This—
this—
is not me. This is not your mother.”

I nod again.

She reaches over and grabs my wrist. “Stop just nodding. Chris—I’m sorry. And I mean it. I haven’t been around for quite some time. I just need help coming back again.”

64. A Little More Trouble

I see the two of them walking down a dirt road, holding hands. Looking at each other and laughing. They’re younger and happier. They’re my parents. And they still love each other.

They look back at me and then wait.

“Come on.”

They wave me on, and I start running up the hill.

There is a spot in between them where I belong.

I keep running, and running, and running.

But I can’t get to them.

And soon they just turn their backs and keep walking.

Except they start walking in opposite directions, making me scream out to them to turn back around and wait a minute and just hold on …

I’m nudged in the seat and look up to see Lily standing there. I’m in the hospital room in Asheville where I rode in the ambulance with my mom. She’s still in bed sleeping, though it looks like there’s sunlight behind the closed blinds.

“Are you okay?” Lily whispers.

“Yeah.” I stand up and motion to the door.

We walk down the hall and out to the main waiting area. Lots of doctors and nurses are walking around this morning. I had texted Lily last night and told her what happened in a nutshell. I tell her everything again but don’t have much more to add.

“She’s fine?”

“I guess,” I say. Which is true because I’m not sure how to define “fine.”

I don’t think Mom is fine or will be for some time.

“Can we just go?”

“Go where?” Lily asks.

“I don’t know. Anywhere. I just want you to take me somewhere.”

We’re standing on the front lawn of the massive Biltmore Mansion, and I seriously am feeling like I’ve entered another universe.

Maybe that’s Lily’s whole point in bringing me here.

“Are we going inside?”

She shakes her head. “Only if you want to.”

We actually waited until nine o’clock to pay and drive onto the massive estate. We’re walking over toward the place called the Italian Gardens, where pools and lawns are connected and hidden by walls of stone and shrubs. As we walk, Lily takes my hand.

“Imagine that this place is ours.”

All I can do is laugh.

“No, seriously. Come on.”

“Okay,” I say.

“We’ve been married a year. This is our estate.”

“Really?”

I look at her, her long hair pulled back in a ponytail this morning, her workout pants and shirt still making her look incredible.

“What?” Lily asks.

“Well, if we were married—”

“Stop. Do guys all have a one-track mind?”

“Well, I’m just being honest.”

She stops for a minute. “And that’s all I am to you, huh? Some pretty face with long legs?”

“I never said that.”

“What do you like about me—about
me—
the me part that’s below the surface?”

“I like how you take control.”

She seems to like my quick answer. “Okay.”

“And I like how you’re confident in, well, pretty much everything.”

“Not always.”

“A lot more than I am.”

“You should be confident, Chris. Really. You have everything going for you.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I mean, my family life is crazy and just getting crazier. But sure—I have everything going for me.”

“I mean you. Nobody else but you.”

We find a bench to sit on in front of a pond. Lily sits toward me with one leg folded into the other.

“I really mean that, Chris. You know—I’ve met some real losers in my life. I’ve dated some too. You’re different. You really are.”

“Why? Different can be bad.”

“You’re just—you’re a gentle soul.”

This sounds ridiculous. “Oh, okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“Look—I’m not always gentle. I can be rough.”

Lily looks at me and shakes her head. “Oh,
okay
,” she repeats.

“I’m serious, too.”

“Maybe I need something gentle in my life. Hmm? What do you think about that?”

She places a finger over my hand and rubs the tiny hairs on it. Then she turns my hand over and does the same on my lines.

“Going to read my future?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Okay—go ahead. What do you see?”

“Hmm—I see you happy. Yes, I see Chris Buckley finally happy. Smiling in the sun—laughing even.”

I think of that snapshot that I found—that I was given—the one that faded.

It’s just a coincidence that’s all.

“What’d I say?”

“Nothing. Keep going.”

“I see love in your future. A love that surprises you.”

“Really?” I smile. “So do you see yourself there?”

“No.”

I fold up my hand. “Ouch.”

“Those two things don’t go together.”

“What don’t?”

“Happiness and me.”

“I’m happy right now.”

“I only bring temporary happiness, Chris. That’s all. And for now, for you—that’s okay. But you need more. You
definitely
need more than I can bring.”

“Stop—what—why are you saying that?”

“I’m just being honest.”

I shake my head and take her hand. “Lily, you make me very happy.”

“You need someone—you need someone like that cute blonde at the party. What’s her name?”

“Kelsey.”

“Yes, Kelsey. I can see her in your future.”

“I’m not interested in Kelsey,” I say. “I’m interested in you.”

“I know. And sometimes—that’s just not the best thing, Chris.”

I look at her and have no idea what she’s talking about. “I can’t think of anything better.”

She smiles and then looks away. I want to ask what she’s thinking, but I don’t. I don’t because it looks serious and sad and I don’t want any of that, not this morning.

“Come on—let’s check out the grounds,” Lily says, standing and pulling me up too.

“I liked sitting there with you.”

“I know,” she says with a nod. “I was liking it too. And that—that could be trouble.”

“So what? A little more trouble in my world won’t matter. I’d like
that
kind of trouble.”

She looks at me for a moment as if she’s considering something, as if she’s actually contemplating my words. But then she just starts walking.

Naturally, I follow.