Destiny Gift (8 page)

For some reason, my head snapped to the right, just as a silver car drove around a corner. It approached the hospital and advanced toward the garage, right beside the hospital’s main door. When the car was close enough, I realized it was a gray Audi A3.

I froze. It couldn’t be.

The vehicle cruised to the garage’s entrance. Its dark windows prevented me from seeing the driver. Paralyzed, I watched it proceed to the end of the first level—where there were a few empty spots—and park near an employee-only entrance.

The driver opened the door and stepped out.

My breath caught in my throat. My heart skipped a few precious beats. Raisa stood beside me and I clutched her arm, steadying my wobbling knees.

“Hey! That’s the guy I told you about,” she said. “The one at the club last week. Martha and Susan told me his name. It’s—”

“Victor.”

Chapter Eight

Victor Gianni, with his honey-colored hair, entrancing sea-green eyes, imposing figure, and his impeccable posture, stood next to his car. In my world. Not in a vision.

“How do you know his name?” Raisa asked.

Unable to find my voice, I shrugged. Besides, how could I answer that I had dreamed about him for the last nine months. And, until now, I had no idea he actually existed.

Nonetheless, there he was.

I squinted, analyzing him. His physical appearance, the car, and the setting were known to me, and yet
he
seemed different.

In my dreams, he was buoyant and romantic. He smiled and winked and spun me around imaginary ballrooms and danced with me in the middle of the street. He was my Prince Charming, born to make me happy, to be my best friend, and some day, to be my lover.

All in all, he was a very different guy from the one standing before me in the real world. The in-the-flesh Victor wore a worried crease on his forehead. He seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. I wanted to reach out, to comfort him, to help him. With blue jeans, a stark white polo, and brown boat shoes, he looked more like a mama’s boy than Romeo.

He spun and his gaze swept across the garage—across me—but his glance didn’t linger on me for more than one second. I gasped as pain stabbed my chest. He didn’t know me.

He turned his attention to his car. From the backseat, he fished out a brown jacket, which he folded over his arm. He retrieved a card from the pocket and used it to open the hospital access door.

That was when my legs regained energy and I ran like crazy. I forgot about Raisa, about my job, about everything. I dashed toward that door. I couldn’t let him get away. I had to find out why he didn’t know who I was.

I almost didn’t reach the door in time, but a nurse stepped outside and propped it open. I inched my way inside Langone.

In the cold atrium, I found myself disoriented. Too many people, too many corridors and doors, and an intense smell of anesthetics that made me nauseous. And he was nowhere to be seen. My breath came in short gasps as I searched for him.

This was too much. The dizziness and the anxiety took over. I found a staircase, sat on the lower step, and put my head between my knees.

“Are you okay, miss?” a woman asked me. Moving cautiously so I wouldn’t puke, I lifted my head and saw a chubby nurse with a kind smile. “You’re very pale.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. I knew too well I wouldn’t be all right until I found Victor.

“Are you here alone?” she asked, patting my shoulder.

I shook my head. “I came with my friend.”

“Do you need help getting to your friend?”

“No, I just need a few minutes alone.” I tried smiling, though I was sure it didn’t look good.

“Well, if you need anything, the nurses’ station is right over there, at the end of the hall.” She pointed to her right.

I nodded, and when she walked away, I returned my forehead to my knees.

Oh my God. My head spun, and there was no way I could think this through. Desperate tears filled my eyes as I considered the possibility I was losing my mind and whether I should get up and head toward the psychiatric ward. My mind now played tricks while I was awake. No visions needed anymore. How much of this could I take? I didn’t want to find out.

“There you are.” Raisa sat beside me. “What the hell was that?”

I shrugged, not sure what to tell her.

My cell phone rang. It was Adam. Reluctantly, I took the call, only to hear him ream me out.

“You’re twelve minutes late,” he yelled. “Drag your butt here right now, or I’ll tell our manager about the freak things you do.”

“I’ll be right there,” I mumbled, disconnecting before he could scream even less pleasant words.

My mind whirled with confusion as Raisa and I left through the same door. I had hallucinated—no way was Victor real. Nonetheless, at the garage, I realized two things. First, his car was still parked there, so I had not imagined that. Second, Raisa was beside with me and she had seen him and confirmed his name.

Still, I felt heartless, soulless. Victor didn’t know me.

***

At the café, the minutes dragged on forever. I couldn’t concentrate on any task. I prayed for Cheryl to show up and help distract my busy mind, but that didn’t happen.

Three hours gone, with three more to go. I couldn’t take it anymore. Pretending to be sick, I asked to go home. When my boss let me leave, I ran to the nearest campus gate and took a cab back to the hospital.

My hands sweated, and my whole body shook when I entered the garage. I was afraid Victor’s car wouldn’t be there anymore.

What now? I had felt compelled to check if his car was still there, but what else? I hadn’t thought it through and I was outside the hospital in the cold and dark. God, what was happening to me? Was I losing all reason?

The need to know if the man I’d seen was Victor prevented me from going home. I hid along a wall where people would not see me while I kept an eye on his car. And I waited.

To pass the time, I got out a book and tried to read. After rereading the same paragraph six times, I gave up and stashed it inside my tote. Next, I tried playing a silly game on my phone, but kept messing it up. Then, I hummed some songs I liked.

Cramps shot up my legs when I heard that damned bird cawing from outside the garage. I left my hideout and stepped onto the sidewalk, ignoring the fact it was already night—not that the darkness was much different from daytime, but there were more sinister individuals haunting the night. Trying to find the raven and keeping an eye out for the bats, I looked around.

The raven flew toward me from out of nowhere. I yelped and fell on my butt.

“Stupid winged thing,” I cursed under my breath. I got up and looked around to see if it would charge again.

The bird was nowhere I could see.

“Damn it,” someone muttered from behind me.

The hairs on my arms stood on end. I knew that voice—Victor.

It was him. It was Victor. God, he was here. I ran toward him, but halted when I saw him crawling to his car, one of his hands over his chest, panting as if breathing hurt too much. I watched, frozen.

He seemed unaware of my presence. Groaning, he kept crawling to his car until he was a few feet from the door. He collapsed on the cement floor, and his whole body shook.

That was when I snapped out of my trance and ran the rest of the way to him, fear and worry heightening my adrenaline.

“Oh my God, Victor, what’s happening?” I asked, hearing the tears in my voice. “Please, talk to me. What is happening?” I knelt beside him.

“Leave me alone,” he croaked, trying to push me away. As if the gesture could lessen the pain, he pressed his eyelids together. “Just go away.”

“I won’t.” I bent over him. As gently as I could, I touched his face to try to steady him, but when my skin touched his, a warm shock passed from me to him. He took a deep breath. His body stopped jerking.

As if suddenly filled with renewed energy, he surged to his feet and retreated several feet. I remained kneeling on the cement.

“I told you to leave,” he snapped.

I flinched. Not in all the months of dreaming about him had I thought Victor would snap at me.

“You seemed to be in pain, Victor. I couldn’t just leave,” I said, finally standing.

“How do you know my name?” he asked, groping at his jeans. He then pulled out his wallet, glanced at it, and stashed it inside his back pocket once more. “What did you do?” He touched his face, where my hands had been a second ago.

“What do you mean? What did I do?” I asked, more confused by the minute.

“Tell me how you know my name.” He glanced down and I followed his gaze. His hands still shook. He hid them behind his back. “Have you been following me?”

“You don’t know me?” My voice, barely audible, sounded both hurt and hopeful.

He tilted his head. “Nope,” he said, then turned toward his car again.

“Wait,” I called as he opened the door. “Don’t go. Please, ju—”

“Gotta go.” He cut me off. A second later, he was inside his car and backing up.

Unable to move or breathe, I watched Victor leave the garage—leave me—as if I were some revolting parasite.

Chapter Nine

I cried myself to sleep.

Raisa noticed I wasn’t well and didn’t force any information out of me. Even if she managed to make me talk, would she have understood?

My alarm clock blared early in the morning, warning me it was time to get dressed and go to class. I didn’t. Instead, I went to the hospital. Perhaps I was just deluding myself, but I had to try again. I couldn’t let Victor, a real flesh and bone Victor, escape so easily. Besides, I knew too much about him and I could use the information to find him.

At least I had an excuse to go there since, with all that had happened, I had forgotten about taking my curriculum in when they had asked for it the previous day.

Once at the hospital, I checked in with the receptionist and handed her my curriculum. Taking advantage of the moment, I asked to visit Bianca Gianni, Victor’s Italian grandmother. The receptionist confirmed my suspicion that his grandma was real too. She asked if I was a family friend. I lied, saying that I was, otherwise she wouldn’t have told me that Mrs. Gianni had been taken for an examination but should be back to her room, on the eighth floor, in about an hour.

So, everything he had told me in my visions was real? Why? I figured I didn’t have time to waste mulling over that. I took an elevator to the eighth floor to wait for him there. He was bound to show up at some point, and I didn’t care if I missed my classes or my job to speak with him again.

On the eighth floor, I dismissed the wooden number shining brightly on the wall and walked down the corridor, looking for Mrs. Gianni’s room. It wasn’t far.

I raked through my mind, trying to recall another episode in my life when I had been this nervous. Besides my brother’s funeral, no memories came.

To steady the trembling of my body, I leaned against the white wall, letting the anesthetic smell filling the corridor fill my lungs. Maybe the drugs would help calm me. They didn’t. I tucked my sweaty hands inside the pockets of my hoodie—another ineffective attempt to calm my senses.

Expecting to see Victor, each door that opened, each new footstep that drew closer, each new voice that crossed the corridor caused my breath to catch. I knew he would have to pass through this place sooner or later. I had to have patience.

Not much time had passed after my arrival, when I saw an old lady with white hair and bluish-green eyes being brought in by a nurse in a wheelchair. I had never seen or spoken to his grandmother in my visions, but he had showed me pictures of his family, and those eyes were enough proof that this woman was his grandmother.

I was shaking again. Holy hell, there she was. She was real. Like Victor was real. Everything I knew about him was real. I still couldn’t believe it.

I heard a heavy sigh and turned toward it. It was Victor. He was leaving the elevator down the hall and coming toward his grandma’s room. He had seen me and didn’t seem happy about it.

He wore faded jeans, a T-shirt, and a thin jacket. Too casual. I shook my head. The fact that my dream Victor and this real Victor were exactly the same physically, while their clothing styles and posture were the opposite of each other still boggled my mind.

He came to a stop before me. “You again.” There was disdain in his tone. I cringed.

“How are you?” I managed to ask and immediately felt silly. I had planted myself here in this hallway for over an hour waiting for him, and when he finally arrived, I didn’t know what to say. Though I really did want to know how he was. The last time I had seen him in the flesh, he’d been jerking on the floor of the hospital’s garage, in pain. “What was that … ah … before …?” I trailed off, hoping he would understand what I was referring to.

He shrugged, his sea-green eyes still staring at me with suspicion. “I don’t know. By the way, how do you know my name?”

I twirled a lock of my hair around my index finger as I considered my answer. I wanted to answer him. I wanted to be honest, but he would never believe me.

As if my answer would pop out of the walls, I scanned the hallway.

At the end of the corridor, a nurse left a room and entered another.

“The nurse,” I almost shouted, hoping he wouldn’t notice my sudden lie. I avoided his inquisitive eyes. “I heard a nurse calling you earlier that day.”

His deadpan expression hid his thoughts and didn’t let me know if he was buying it or not.

“What did you do to me last night?” he asked, crossing his arms. God, I hated how his voice and his posture were so guarded and mistrustful. I wasn’t used to it.

“What do you mean?”

“When you touched me, the shock and the pain went away. How did you do that?”

“I don’t know.” This time I wasn’t lying. I really didn’t know. He frowned, clearly still suspicious. “Seriously, I have no idea.”

His shoulders stiffened. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

My eyes widened as I retreated a few steps, trying to avoid his toxic tone.

Yes, he looked like my Victor—the same voice, the same hair, the same face, the same mouth that had offered me smiles that had rendered me breathless many, many times. I wanted to touch him, to embrace him, to tell him everything was going to be okay. Maybe if I touched him, he would remember me and he would
want
to touch me too.