Luke (Bear Shifter) (New World Shifters) (16 page)

“Let's start by talking about your week,” Dr. Isaacs said to me two hours later, the same way he does every Thursday afternoon at three.

The one thing I didn't want to do was be ‘negative’. The good doctor and I had gone down too many conversations that ended in the inevitable diagnosis of negativity. I didn’t have anything against him, though. I mean, I knew that it was his job to try and work out the kinks and foibles of my increasingly downwardly spiraling personality and everything, but sometimes I wondered what I was paying $300 a session for if all the old guy was going to tell me was that I had a shitty outlook on life.

Maybe self-diagnosis is usually the worst sort of bullshit, but even I knew
that
.

I didn't want to be down on everything, but I didn't really want to lie either. What would be the point of that? If people on the whole are good at anything it's lying to themselves. I really didn't want to spend my time sitting in this presumably Spartan, well-appointed office on a chair that I was guessing was brown and completely BS my psychiatrist.

“I tried hard,” I told him. It was the truth, and not particularly uplifting. A perfect balance, or so I thought.

“At what?” he asked. I imagined him to be bald, and for him to have glasses perched on the end of a long nose. What hair he did have would be wiry and unkempt.

“Everything,” I said with a shrug. “Smiling a couple of times a day for now reason, even though that makes me feel like a crazy person. Making my own meals again. Even getting out in the world and meeting people. I guess you could say that I’m trying hard at life.”

“Good,” Dr. Isaacs grunted. “I'm glad of that. And tell me Grace, did you get a chance to practice any of those coping skills I mentioned last session?”

I closed my eyes, mostly so he couldn't see me rolling them. His idea of coping had always sounded far more to me like straight up ignoring the fact that six months ago I'd been able to see the brightness and beauty of the world and now everything had gone dark permanently. I didn't know if there was such a thing as coping with that reality, but if there was I certainly hadn't learned to do it yet.

“I tried really hard,” I said again, emphasizing all the right words and putting just enough passion into it that hopefully he would leave me alone about it. The last thing I needed was to be nagged by this guy. He made me feel like I was a twelve again and getting scolded by my dad, so I wasn't about to be told off for not seeing the sunny side of things when I couldn't see the sunny side of
anything
, anymore.

But Dr. Isaacs didn’t fluster easily. I suppose you can't be the type to get all emotional if you're going to be a psychiatrist, and he was old and cagey that he had probably seen it all. I was nothing new to him, just one more handicap woman who couldn’t come to terms with the cruelty of her new reality.

Seen it all
, my inner voice repeated.
You said seen it all, blind girl
… I sighed, unable to not hear how many expressions involved sight. Each and every phrase like that rubbed my face in what I’d lost.

When you're blind, it isn’t just your sight you lose. Whatever freedoms you took for granted get snuffed out like a candle.

I wondered how much time was left this session. I couldn't take this anymore. Dr. Isaacs didn't sound smug, but his questions were riling me anyway. I could feel my palms start to sweat as I folded my hands into fists and set them on my knees.

“Did you go out this week?” he asked softly. It was the sort of gentle, probing question that made him sound like he was staring at a bomb with no intention of disarming it.

“I'm here right now. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s a start,” he admitted. “But it's the same start you had six months ago, Grace. It's time to take another step along this road you’re on.”

“No!” I didn’t want to snap at him, but I was reaching the end of my fuse. “I didn't go out. I didn't go anywhere or do anything or meet anyone. I wasted a week’s worth of the time I have left, is that what you want hear? That God took my eyes and I’m pretty much pissing my life away?”

“I hope you know that it isn’t my intention to upset you,” he said. “I know this can be hard, but the process is only going to be as painful as you let it be. Right now, I need you to push. When the world pushes back at you, that’s just your cue to shove even harder. You can do many things, Grace. You can do so much, so long as you don't give up.”

“I'm not,” I said. “I'm just stuck, you know?”

“Some would say that locking yourself in your house with all the lights off, only eating food that someone delivered you, shutting yourself off from the outside world…” He let his voice trail off, and I heard the wet smack as he licked his dry lips. “Some would say that's giving up.”

“Well if they did,” I shot back, “I hope they get struck blind too. Let's see how good they are at coping when the world goes dark around them.”

He paused and took in a long, slow breath. My internal clock, that
tick tick tick
sense I'd always had but which had grown much sharper since I'd lost my sight, told me that it was finally about the time when our session would be over for the week, and sure enough I heard him set his pen and notepad aside and stand up from the chair that I always imagined to be overstuffed.

“That’s all the time we have, I'm afraid.”

I got up and smirked, throwing his own silliness back at him. “Don't be afraid, doctor. Have you tried those coping lessons we talked about last week? I heard they’re supposed to be really helpful.”

The taxi got me to my door. Well, for most people that would have been true, but not for me. The taxi only got me as far as the curb in front of my house, and after fumbling through my wallet and hoping to God that I’d arranged the bills the way I’d been taught when I lost my sight, I attempted to correctly pay the driver and get out.

I could feel the sun on my face, and as if to dare it to blind me further I stared into the spot in the sky where I thought it was with the pale, almost crystal blue eyes that everyone had always complimented me on. Yes, they were unusual, but there was a reason for that. Their color was an early indicator of the disease that had eventually turned out the lights…

Somewhere down the street I could hear a couple of kids playing on their bikes. It was warm outside, and was probably going to get even hotter by the afternoon. I could smell a freshly mown lawn somewhere, across the street perhaps, and I could hear the jingle of a neighbor’s keys as they got into a car and closed the door behind them.

The world kept right on going without me. I was going to have to do the same.

I reached in my pocket for my own set of keys, even though there was only a single key that I carried around anymore. I couldn't drive, so I’d sold the car which meant that key was gone. I didn’t have a job anymore, so there weren’t any keys to open the store with.

I was in the process of getting rid of the cabin on the lake as well. I'd always loved it, even as a young girl. I could vividly remember the way the sun hit the water and seemed to dance for my sisters and I, but they all had lives of their own now. The one time I let myself go up there I’d asked the cab driver to turn around before I even arrived. Despite the questionable effectiveness of Dr. Isaacs’s coping strategies, I didn't think I'd be able to stand in a place where I remembered such beauty and come to terms with the fact that I'd never see it again.

The real estate agent had the key for the lake house, which left me with just the one that would get me in the front door of my place.

It’s funny how hard it is to make old habits die. Even though I couldn't see, I still closed my eyes as I concentrated. It was twenty-three steps from the curb to the door. Twenty-three. Somewhere around step twelve there was a crack in the paved path that led to it, and if I wasn’t careful I could easily stumble or fall. Step eighteen had a funny little divot as well, and the gravel often spilled over from the edging at step twenty.

Just go
, I told myself.
Stop stalling.

I walked forward, doing my best to keep an even pace. I was even counting off the steps in my head, just like I was supposed to.

When I’d first done this it had taken me almost 5 minutes to get from the street to the door. I’d fallen down less than halfway there, and even before I hit the ground the tears had come. I’d gotten turned around, and because of that it had been hard to figure out which way was back toward the street and which way would get me home again.

That had been a while ago. But, like everything, practice made perfect. Although an innocent bystander would probably not have been able to imagine it from the grim set I of my jaw, I was about as calm and casual as I was ever going to get. Once I’d taken twenty-two steps I reached out and grabbed the doorknob on step twenty-three.

Miracle of miracles, I got the key in the lock and then stepped into the house. I was glad to be able to close the door firmly behind me. It was frightening out there, and it felt like everyone was watching me.

Maybe some of my old habits would eventually change, but most of them had been proving to have the tenacity of a grumpy old bulldog. Even now, as I walked through the blackness of my house, my traitor right hand went up to try and flick the light switch before I realized what I was doing and stopped it.

At the very least, I'd been saving on my electricity bill for the past six months…

I went inside, dropping the purse and the key off on the table in the hallway. There was a big, pointless mirror on the wall. There wasn’t a lot of furniture to have to navigate my way around, anymore. The doctors had encouraged me to sell what I didn’t need and put the rest in logical, out of the way places

It had been good advice, if not a little obvious. I can only imagine the hell involved if I lost my key or misplaced my wallet, so I'd been careful to heed their warning.

I was trembling, my heart still pounding from the stress of finding my way to the door. I was so thirsty that my tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth, but in order to get to the kitchen I had to go through the living room and the dining room.

I wasn’t lazy, but I wasn't very good at being blind either. Not yet, and maybe not ever. My shins no doubt had rows of angry black and blue bruises from all the impacts I’d inflicted upon them. It was safer just to be thirsty right now, and so I picked my way to the living room. The TV remote was right where I’d left it in the center of the couch, and I grabbed it as I sat down.

I’d memorized the sequence to turn the TV on and get to the DVR settings. The damn thing had voice assist, but I didn't need it right now. I spent my time lately watching reruns of shows and movies I'd seen a hundred times before. As I listened to the actors say the same tired, comfortably predictable lines, I would watch the shows in my head, playing them back over and over. It wasn’t as good as having my sight back, but other than my dreams it was as close as I was ever going to get.

My dreams… That made my mind turn to Darius, and the image of his imposing body and strong, sculpted jaw calmed me down.

I lay down on the couch and rested my head on the cushion, turning my back to the TV and letting myself drift. My dreams were still places of splendor and vision, and the glorious colors that surrounded me there were the only ones I’d ever know again.

Besides, more often than not, I would fall asleep and wake up in my dream next to Darius.

I was exhausted, and it didn't take much effort to let myself find peace and beauty somewhere away from this world.

When I opened my eyes, I could see the cave ahead of me just like always. I'd been able to push myself into this particular spot pretty consistently for most of my life, though as the years had gone on I'd grown more and more able to hone in on exactly what I wanted. I’d been a teenager when I’d started dreaming of Darius, and now that I was a woman I still found myself returning to the same place.

Meeting the same man.

It's a funny thing about dreams, when you think about it. The stuff that should be strange, the little details that should reach out and grab you by the throat and shake you, are so rarely able to convince you that you're dreaming.

In your dreams you aren’t fat or scared or stupid, and the people who called you those things aren’t there to remind you of your failings. In your dreams, the hot guy can want you. He can even turn into a bear, and who's to say that’s strange?

I was good at dreaming, which meant that I could throw myself into it and ignore the reality I’d left behind without so much as a hint of guilt.

But as willing as your mind is to ignore the details that should throw you out of the illusion, there are some things that are dead giveaways. I'd noticed, for example, that I couldn't read in the dreams. Not really. If ever I wasn't sure about whether I was awake or asleep I used to go to a book or a newspaper or a computer screen. If the letters had been replaced by a jumble of symbols, it was proof I was still asleep.

There were other ways to find out if what I was seeing was real, and I'd learned enough of them to be on the right side of reality when I wanted to. For the last six months it hadn't mattered. It was easy to see if I was dreaming or not, because it was only in my dreams that I could see.

I’d pretty much given up on caring if I was stuck in a dream. Even as little as a couple of years ago, I’d been deathly afraid that I’d prefer the dreaming world to the waking one and now the very thought of waking up filled me with dread.

I thought a lot about trying to stay in the dream. What would happen then? What would I do when the siren song of seduction of a world that I could control so easily tried to drag me inside?

I hadn’t found the answer yet. At least the fear that I'd be swallowed by the dream was gone as well, replaced by the hope that it may one day happen. I would've welcomed that sort of permanent escape with open arms, but it wasn't to be.

No, I had to make do with my little jaunts into a world where I was as gifted as I'd been before. When I woke, that was where the darkness was. These dreams were all I had, and I wasn't about to feel guilty for escaping to them.

I turned to look over my shoulder and dreamed the rest of the forest as it filled in around me. There was snow on the ground, and the tall trees stood amongst a carpet of thick overgrowth.

The mouth of the cave was as it always was, warm and inviting. Darius and his family called this place home, and I knew that I was a welcome visitor. He’d told me about his enemies, Wolves that could become men, and I was certain that to them the cave was a place of fear and foreboding.

I took a step forward, and I was inside the cave. That was one of the many beauties of dreams, they let you skip to the good parts. You didn't have to waste your time walking or paying bills online or getting stuck in conversations that you really wanted nothing to do with.

I knelt and pressed the palm of my hand to the spongy earth that made up the cave floor. It felt right. It smelled good and clean, like growing things in the soft places from which life sprung. I breathed deeply of the fragrance of the Earth before standing once more and calling out for him. “Darius. I'm here.”

Sometimes he would come when I called. Sometimes he was already here, waiting for me. And sometimes he wasn't, like now.

But I wasn't worried. I'd always been able to summon him eventually, and I knew that if I did the right things I'd hear the gentle growl of a Bear in the distance and before too long see the muscled mass of the beast he could become darken the entrance of the cave before he walked in as a man to hold me in his arms. After that, he and I would make this place pulse with the rhythm of our bodies.

“Darius?”

No answer, once again. I reached up and undid a couple of the buttons on a blouse I’d never purchased and didn’t own. I think I'd seen it in a magazine once, but here in the dream it is mine, just like Darius was.

Now that I was a little sexier than before, I had even greater confidence that he wouldn't keep me waiting. We'd spoken so often over the last few years, it was almost like he was real. I didn't know why this fragment of my imagination had taken on such a life of its own, but I was glad that it had.

Spending time with him had probably saved me from myself. Without the ability to retreat to his arms and gather love and strength, I don’t know what I would have done.

I listened intently and frowned. It didn’t normally take this long. He was playing hard to get, which wasn’t like him at all.

Oh well, if that was the game then I can play it too.
I make the rules, after all
, I told myself as I undid another button and lay down on the soft earth of the cave floor to wait for the man of my dreams.

“Hurry,” I called, letting my fingers drift down along my stomach and lifting my ass up off the cave floor. “Please don't make me wait. Not today. I need you more than ever, if that's even possible.”

The silence that answered stretched out for such a long time that I was just about to give up when I heard a growl in the distance. I smiled to myself, but the expression froze on my lips as I heard the growl become a roar. It was the sort of noise you might expect to hear from a Bear when it realizes that you're trespassing in its territory. I didn't hear any gentleness or care in the sound, and I wondered if this was some newcomer to my dreams.

Frightened now, I sat up. I heard the sound of breaking branches and falling trees outside as the Bear returned home at a dead sprint.

“It's me,” I called out in a quaky voice, just in case my dream was about to take a turn for the worst. “It's Grace.”

I saw his massive shadow stretch out before him. It was framed against the sunlight for a moment, and I was expecting him to walk in on two legs instead of four. Instead, the Bear rounded the corner at a run and charged right at me, growling and roaring, his huge mouth open wide to display a set of sharp, white teeth that he looked more than willing to use on me.

There was no more time for begging. Whatever cheap feminine wiles I thought to use against him were out the window as the distance between Darius and I vanished, and when it became clear that he wasn't going to stop before he crashed into me I tore myself from the dream and forced myself out of the dream moments before those jaws could close around my flesh.

I woke up panting, covered in sweat. The TV was silent. Whatever show I’d been watching was over.

I was shaking, but even worse than that I reached up in the darkness and touched my cheeks and felt the tears that I'd been shedding.

I didn't know what had happened or why to make him act like that, but all of a sudden I was more alone than I knew how to be.