Sleep Stalker (Ghosts Beyond the Grove Book 1) (10 page)

     Zach’s diagnosis should have put me at ease but it didn’t.  Actually, it did the exact opposite.  It all sounded too easy, too perfect.  My pessimism was in rare form but it felt like more than that.  With all of the other strange things going on lately, I knew in my heart that something else was going on.  But what?

     Regardless of whether I was right or wrong, I would be returning to Ohio alone.  And I wasn’t feeling the least bit sad about it.  It would give Zach time to recover from the mono and
me
time to recover from
him
. With stress-free time to myself, I could do a little more research on my mom.  But tonight, I was going to relax and not worry about Zach or anything else. 

     When Sunday morning rolled around, I finally sent him a text saying that I was going to stop by and see him before I left.  Hours went by before I got a reply.

     “Don’t.  Don’t want u 2 get sick 2.  Ttyl.”

     That was it.  No “I love you” or “I’ll miss you” just “ttyl”.  Something besides mono was definitely still plaguing him.  Before leaving Rosewood, I downloaded Bohemian Rhapsody to my MP3 player and called out for Clay.  The road back to Ohio was a long one but I didn’t have to make that journey alone.

17.  Lifting Weights

     I figured that Ruby would argue with me and insist on coming to see me.  But for once in her life, she did the logical thing and stayed away without complaint.  Of course I didn’t want her to get sick, but that wasn’t the main reason why I didn’t want to see her.  The minute I got home and away from her, I started to feel better.  Maybe it was nothing more than coincidence but I didn’t want to take any chances.  She didn’t understand the war that was going on inside my head.  Neither did I really, I just knew that I felt better when she wasn’t around.

     When we left the apartment, I was so tired that I forgot to pick up my duffle bag on the way out.  Now I was stuck in Charlotte’s Grove for two weeks with only my cell phone and the clothes on my back.  My biggest worry was how many classes I’d missed already and it was only my first week at Pendleton.  College wasn’t even remotely like high school.  I couldn’t just have Rachel bring my assignments home for me the way I used to when I got sick. 

     After spending about an hour of getting redirected from one department to another, I finally got to speak to someone who was able to help me.  I had two options—either suck it up and miss two more weeks of class or drop my schedule entirely until next semester.  Neither choice made me happy.

     If I sat out the next two weeks, I was afraid of how behind I would be in literally every class.  It was sure to negatively affect my grades for the entire semester which would in turn decrease what little scholarship funding I had.  If I skipped the whole semester based on medical reasons, I wouldn’t lose a cent but I would feel like a failure.    I weighed the options carefully for two solid hours before making my decision.  Confident that I could get Ruby’s dad to sign a form stating that I needed bed rest for an extended period of time, I swallowed my pride and did the smart thing by dropping the semester.  That was one less weight on my shoulders for now at least.  Everything else, I would deal with later. I drank the hot chocolate Mom made me then went back to sleep.

     Although every dream I had was about Ruby, they were much less vivid and far less frustrating.  She was always somewhere far off in the distance or on the other side of an impenetrable crowd.  It seemed that distance was keeping my insatiable need for her at bay.  Either those were the best sleeping pills in the world or a definite sign that I needed time away from her for real.

18.  Downtime

    
For the first time since moving to Liberty, Ohio, I felt that the town was living up to its name.  I felt free.  I grabbed a bag of potato chips and flopped down onto the futon.  Then I sat there like that—like a zombie fueled by salty, greasy carbs—until I was ready to get up.  Coco and Foxy sat on either side of me begging for chips so I let them have a few.  Normally, I didn’t allow them to eat anything other than their cat food.  But with Zach’s behavior lately, I could see that I wasn’t the only one stressed out and in need of a special treat.

     When the bag was down to nothing but miniscule crumbs, I tossed it into the garbage and reached for my laptop.  I typed my mother’s name in and pulled up the archive photos of her and her fellow dancers.  They were my only hope for finding out who she was before she met my dad and what secrets she may have been hiding.  I took out a notebook and wrote down every name listed.

     Once I had that information copied down, I went from one social networking site to another to see if I could find any of them.  I pored over profile after profile to see if I had the right people.  While some of them seemed iffy at best, one of them in particular stood out from the crowd.

     Roxanne Pike was now Roxanne Ordonez, owner of Studio Tutu in Tucson, Arizona.  On the dance studio’s website, I found a list of her credentials which included the ballet company my mom danced for.  I also found an email address where she could be contacted.  Bingo.

     Unsure of what to actually say to her, I nervously typed then backspaced repeatedly.  Finally, I decided to be brief and to the point. 

     “Ms. Ordonez, my name is Ruby Matthews and I believe that you knew my mother, Camille Rogers.  You would have danced together with the Philadelphia Ballet Company sometime in the late ‘80’s or early ‘90’s.  My mother passed away when I was young and I am curious to find out more about her.  Any information would be appreciated.  Thank you, Ruby.”

     I reviewed the email thoroughly several times before finding the courage to release it out into cyberspace.  I hit that send button like it had the potential to start a nuclear war—anxiously and with a fair amount of regret afterward.  I was afraid of what kind of response I would receive.  Or
not
receive.  What if she ignored me completely? 

     Nervous, I gorged on a handful of vanilla crème-filled chocolates before I even noticed I was doing it.  Then, I calmed down and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Rationally, I knew that it could be days before she checked her inbox.  But that didn’t stop me from obsessively checking and rechecking
my
inbox every few minutes.  Eventually, I gave up and set my phone to notify me of any new email messages.

     I sent Zach a text letting him know that everything was okay in Liberty and that I hoped to see him soon.  His reply was disheartening.

     “Ok.”

     With the apartment in complete silence save for the occasional sound of cat claws clicking across the kitchen’s linoleum floor, I felt peaceful yet alone.  So I got off of the internet and into my writing files to continue working on my novel.  And lost all track of time. 

     When I finally checked the clock, it was almost midnight.  I got ready for bed slowly.  Even though we’d been fighting since we moved here, going to bed without at least having Zach in the next room felt strange to me.  I wasn’t exactly afraid to be alone—it was more like a piece of me was missing.  My heart was half scooped out and the void refilled with sorrow.  Sleep was not going to come easily for me tonight.  I swallowed one of the melatonin tablets I’d bought for Zach then turned out the lights.

     While my dreams used to be frighteningly vivid, they tamed down tremendously once my ghost problems subsided.  That night my dream wasn’t scary but incredibly realistic.  If I hadn’t known for sure that I was in Liberty, Ohio, I would have sworn that I was somewhere much different.

     In the dream, I was in Tucson, Arizona.  There were no signs anywhere telling me where I was—I instinctively
knew
where I was.  I could feel the sweltering heat on my skin, the hot dry air in my nostrils.  The desert sun beat down relentlessly as I maneuvered my way down a crowded sidewalk.  There was an important reason for me being there—of that I was sure—but specific details of my mission eluded me.  I kept walking—wandering—aimlessly, knowing that my purpose would reveal itself eventually.

     Block after block, I traversed the streets without any real direction.  As I rounded yet another corner, I spotted a pet store.  Feathers and Fur, read the sign outside—artfully adorned with hand-painted feathers and paw prints. In the doorway, stood a tired looking old man with a green bird perched on his shoulder.  While I had passed many strangers on my journey, none of them acknowledged me except for him.

     “Your feet must be tired,” he said casually.  “If you go down Fourth Street, you’ll find a place to rest.  It’s a long walk, but it’ll be worth it once you get there.”  He then opened the door to the pet store and disappeared inside.

     “Awk, Fourth Street!” the bird squawked back at me just before the door went shut.

     And that’s when my alarm went off.  I hit the snooze button and rolled over in an attempt to re-enter this odd reverie.  I’d come so far only to wake up without any real conclusion to my dream.  Still sleepy, I tried forcing my mind to return to that street and pick up where I left off.  But when the alarm sounded again fifteen minutes later and I still hadn’t recaptured it, I gave up and forced myself out of bed.

     I may not have finished the dream but I was certainly not done thinking about it.  While in the shower, I analyzed the events my sleeping mind created.  I learned a long time ago that my dreams contained the keys to unlock the solutions to the problems plaguing my waking life.  As I picked through the details, I noticed how many symbols were scattered throughout. 

     Feathers, again with the feathers.  Paw prints on the pet store placard could be interpreted as akin to footprints.  And the old man also mentioned my feet.  Feet and feathers.  It would make sense for me to be in Tucson looking for Roxanne but I had a distinct feeling that wasn’t the only reason I was there.  What was on Fourth Street? 

     Realizing that since I didn’t have to take the bus to work today, I had extra time to spare on more research.  I fed Foxy and Coco while my laptop loaded up then sat down at my desk.  First, I double checked my inbox in case my notifications weren’t coming through on my phone.  Nothing.  Then I Googled “Fourth Street, Tucson, Arizona”.

     There was a long list of businesses with that address but nothing stood out to me.  No pet stores, nothing whatsoever to do with feet.  Disappointed, I finished getting ready for work.  As an afterthought, I sent Zach a text asking how he was feeling then set my cell down on the kitchen counter.

     It wasn’t until I got to work that I noticed that I left my phone at home.  This was the first time I’d ever left it behind.  Usually, I was tied to that cell—excited to retrieve every message Zach sent to me.  Curiously enough, not having it with me didn’t send me into a panic like I thought it would.  The winds weren’t only blowing feathers my direction—they were ushering in change.

19.  Rising Spirits

     My first week at home in Charlotte’s Grove was over before I knew it—primarily because I slept through most of it.  Day by day, my headaches lessened but never retreated altogether.  Mom made sure that I stayed well hydrated and assured me that I could feel a whole lot worse than I did. 

     “I got mono when I was about your age only I had twice the symptoms that you do.  My fever and sore throat were ten times worse than the headaches and fatigue.  I was out of commission for a full month.  You should consider yourself lucky.”

     I
did
consider myself lucky but for different reasons.  The amount of mental peace I was gathering while being away from Ruby was tremendous.  She was never far from my thoughts but I was beginning to feel less addicted to her. 

     We were still in daily contact which each other but neither of us spoke of when I would return.  Even after my original two week timeline had expired, there was still no talk of me coming back.  She seemed perfectly okay with being alone.  And so was I—for a while.

     Halfway through our third week apart, the real depression set in.  I missed her terribly.  Sporadic texting wasn’t enough for me anymore.  I needed to talk to her, to hear her laughter.  She had the best laugh of anyone I knew.  It was kind of giggly but not in a childish annoying way.  And it always sounded sweeter when I was the one making her laugh.  I swore that I would cherish her laughter even after I died.