Envisioning Hope (8 page)

He
didn't answer me verbally, instead, he flipped me around, pushing my front up
against the wall and pulling my arm up behind my back as though I was being
arrested. I guess that last question was not one that was on his list of things
to teach. Just as fast, he had his weight against my back, holding me still
between him and the wall.

Oh,
he was going to teach me how to take it rough, huh?

Laughing
was all that I could do. If I could talk to Doc Underwood, none of this would
be taking place. So, I continued my one objective of making him so mad he would
leave. I pushed my ass out and rubbed it against the rough texture of his
pants. More of his weight was placed up higher on my back as he began to
whisper through gritted teeth next to my ear.

"Listen
here, you may have these other people running scared, but not me. All you're
doing is making a
huge
ass out of yourself. I don't want to be here as
much as you don't want me here, but I have no choice. It's my job. Now, you can
reach down beside your left leg and find your shirt or I will put it on you
myself. Then, you're going to sit your ass back down in that chair and act your
age. If not, I will have one of the orderlies come in here and tie you into the
restraint chair. Do you get me, Hope?"

At
the mention of the restraint chair, I relaxed against his body. I'd had plenty
of experience with the restraint chair and I would choose the other choice
every time. Sheldon could feel my body calming under him and loosened his grip
some. I didn't say a word as I slowly reached down and felt around for my
shirt.

"To
the right," Sheldon informed me as I drifted my hand out to feel the thin
material between my fingers. I grabbed it and jerked up. I didn't need his
help. I didn't need anyone's help.

"Let
go of me!" I ordered. "I don't need you to give me navigational
directions, I know how to find a fuckin' tank top."

He
ignored my remark and moved away from me. I threw my shirt on and went to sit
where he directed.

"Now,
let's try this again. Do you have any questions." This was not a question,
but a statement. I did have one question... a real question.

"Where
will this training be taking place?"

Instantly,
he responded. "Here and then at the home you will be living in."

I
was suddenly filled with nothing but misery and despair. The only place I could
go was to my house, my old house. The house I lived in with my son and husband,
the son and husband who were no longer there. I couldn't go to that house. I
wouldn't go anywhere near that house. My dad tried talking me into selling it,
but I told him to leave and never come back. That's exactly what he did, along
with everyone else in my family. I didn't want to be a part of their lives
anymore. They would only be a huge reminder of what I lost.

"I
can't go back there," I whispered. I didn't even think it was loud enough
for anyone to hear, but Sheldon did.

"Yes,
you can," he whispered just as soft.

"I
won't
go back there," I said, louder this time. I would sleep out
on the street before I would go back to that house.

"Hope…"

I
didn't let him finish. There was nothing he could say that would get me to even
drive down that street. Maybe it was a good thing that I couldn't see because I
would never see that house again. I turned my body around to Sheldon and opened
my eyes. I may not be able to see anything, but I know that he could see what
my eyes looked like and I wanted him to know that I was serious.

"I'm
telling you, Sheldon, I am not going back to that house."

He
was silent for a moment before I heard him let out a breath.

"Fine.
We have a lot to do until we get to that point, so let's not blow a gasket over
something that will not happen until farther down the road. I will be back
tomorrow, be prepared to work. I will bring some clothes I expect to see you in
every day and you better not give me a hard time."

I
didn't answer him and he took that as my response. I felt the breeze of his
walking past me and knew he was leaving. I didn't offer him a goodbye or even a
see ya' later. I felt the pressure of the door in my ears before I heard it
close.

My
mind was whirling with thoughts and feelings I hadn't felt since I came here. I
sat down in my spot and thought. The last thought that passed through my mind
was the one I spoke out loud.

"I'm
not going back to that house."

Chapter 8

It
was night.

I
could tell because the halls had become peaceful. I lay in my bed desperately
wanting to be taken back to the place in my dreams where I was surrounded by
Charlie and Sawyer. I turned to my side and closed my eyes. I couldn't find
sleep like this. Turning to the other side, I came to the conclusion that this
position wouldn't work either. I laid on my back and opened my eyes. It really
didn't matter, it wasn't like I could see anything in front of me.

I
placed my hands on my chest and felt the rise and fall with every breath. I
fell into the rhythm until I felt my eyelids become heavy.  My breathing became
controlled and slow. I noticed my pattern had changed. My chest wasn't rising
as high and it would become less and less each time. Finally, I closed my eyes
and was immediately transported back to the kitchen where I was with Charlie
and Sawyer.

This
time, something was different. I sat where I was once before and I could smell the
apple and cinnamon plug-in scents that I had placed throughout the house. I
looked to Sawyer's highchair, but he wasn't eating like the last time I was
here. I got up and walked around. I called out Charlie's name and there was no
response. This wasn't happening, they were here somewhere. Then, it hit me.

"Sawyer's
room."

A
sigh of relief washed over me as I remembered when Charlie would come home,
whisk Sawyer up in his arms, and fly him all around the world. They had to be
up there playing. I ran for the stairs, taking two at a time until I hit the
second floor. I wanted to watch them interact together, so I quietly peeked
around the corner and found that I was looking into an empty room.

I
ran to our room and jerked the door open. I couldn't believe it. It was as if I
hadn't left it a day. It had been close to two years since the accident and my
mind could still visualize every detail as if I walked out and right back in.

I
designed this room. I wanted it to be feminine, yet make it known that a man sleeps
in here. My brandy and hunter green paisley comforter still covered my king
sized bed. The gold candle holding sconces hung on either side of the large
water colored abstract orchid painting. The colors were remarkable, reds and
crèmes mixed with light blues and a touch of yellow, it was even more
spectacular. The piece caught my eye as soon as I had seen it and I knew that I
had to have it. I moved my eyes slowly, landing on my vanity that sat beside
the large window. I always felt that you should have natural lighting present
when putting your makeup on so that when you went outside your face wasn't too
dark or too light. I strolled over and picked up an item from the table, it was
my favorite shade of lipstick. Sitting down, I noticed my reflection in the
mirror. I was me again. My hair was straight and a bright shade of blonde. I
grinned when I looked at it, I paid a hell of a lot of money for those
highlights and loved that they glimmered in the sunlight. I pulled the cap off
of the lipstick and slowly rolled it until the stick of Bronzed Buff was pushed
up the tube about halfway. Gradually, I brought the stick up to my lips. "Do
it, Hope," I said to myself, terrified that if I went too fast the dream
would end. I felt and saw the color glide smoothly across my lips. I ran it
over again just to make sure I could feel it…no, that I could see it. I brought
the tube down and looked at myself in the mirror.

It
was me.

I
could visually see me. I looked back in the mirror and saw beauty radiating
back to me. I was sexy and it was erotic thinking about how uninhibited I was
when it came to being intimate with Charlie.

"I
had everything I could've ever wanted," I said to my reflection. And it
was the truth, I wanted for nothing. I let me head fall into my hands as I
thought about how nothing mattered to me anymore when something caught my eye.
There, beside me on my vanity, sat a picture of the three of us.

Me,
Charlie, and Sawyer.

My
family

It
was the day Sawyer was born.

I
never thought I could feel anything more than what I felt that day.

"We're
a family, babe," Charlie whispered in my ear as he wrapped one arm around
me and Sawyer and snapped the picture with the other hand. I leaned back and
placed a kiss on his cheek, silently thanking him for giving me the most
precious gift anyone could have ever given me. I heard the click of the camera
and finally looked up at him to respond. "Yeah Charlie, we're a family."

I
squeezed my eyes shut at the memory.

"Wait
a minute, something's not right," I said to myself as I looked around the
room again. "I didn't keep this picture here." And, I was right, I
know I was. That picture was kept on the mantle downstairs because it was so
beautiful. I got up to move back downstairs when I heard and felt a rumble so
loud, I thought the house was falling in.

"Charlie?"
I called as I went to leave the bedroom. Then, the house began to fade away.

Suddenly,
there was the loud explosion again.

Boom!

I
quickly turned around and I was now sitting in a car.

"Had
a good time tonight, Hope."

I
turned my head and saw Charlie driving.

Oh.
My. God.

He
was driving the car I bought him for our anniversary.

The
car.

I
looked back behind me and there was Sawyer sleeping in his car seat.

"No,
no, no, no, no, no!" That was all that would come out of my mouth. I had
been through this once, I couldn't deal with it again. I knew the outcome and
there was nothing I could do to change it. "My god, Hope, what's the
matter? Are you alright?"

Or,
was there?

"Charlie,
when the light turns green, sit here…don't go." My voice was frantic. I
was sitting up, turned toward him. Panic had overcome me. I grabbed his face
with both my hands.

"Do
you hear me, Charlie? Don't go!"

Charlie
put the car in park and turned toward me, my face moving back and forth between
the back seat and the front seat. I reached back to grab Sawyer's hand and just
as I went to turn, the light turned green. I stopped moving.

"Honey,
it's okay, it was just a nightmare. I saw his hand reach down in slow motion to
put the car in drive. I felt as he pushed his foot down on the gas and my eyes
were looking both ways out to the intersection. I didn't see any lights, so
maybe we would be early. The car built up speed and my head went to the back to
look at Sawyer when I heard it.

The
explosion.

I
sat straight up in my bed, soaked in sweat. I was back to a lonely reality.

I
flew out of the bed with my hands out in front of me. I was barely awake so I
swung my arm back and forth quickly as to not run into anything. I was overcome
with emotions, I couldn't even point one of them out directly. I was pissed
that I was the only one left to have to deal with the loss, I was fucking livid
that I had to relive that night over again. I was beyond miserable because I
have to live without them
and
because I had to live that night over
again. "I can't even look at your pictures!" I screamed as I came
upon the small table in the corner that housed a small AM/FM radio. I kept that
one on continuously because it was close to my bed. I heaved it across the
room, listening as it hit the wall and shattered into a million pieces. I began
walking across the room to where another radio sat and repeated the process.

"Why?!"
I shrieked at the top of my lungs.

"Why
couldn't you just stop and look?" I said to no one, but waited for anyone
to answer as I continued on my destructive rampage. Hitting a small table, I
picked up the CD player that played one CD over and over. Not anymore it didn't.
I was so busy destroying items, I didn't hear the door open. Out of nowhere, I
was picked up, thrown down on my bed, and pricked in the arm.

"Why
couldn't he have just loo–"

That
was all I got out before I couldn't hear my scratchy voice anymore.

*
* *

"Listen
to me, doc, she knows I'm coming," I reiterated in a slightly louder tone.
I had been fighting with Doc Underwood for almost twenty minutes now with a
handful of clothes and two pairs of slip-on shoes that I had to carry in my
arms since they didn't allow any types of bags in here.

"And,
I'm telling you, Ollie, she's not even awake to respond to you. She had an…"
I could tell he was scared to say something he would regret. He wanted her out
of here, but if anything that dealt with the word "breakdown" or "suicide
watch" came up, especially in one of my reports, there was no way in hell
she would ever make it out.