Blue Aspen Read online

  "Please come inside with me. The house is so big. You could hang out on the third floor. Uncle Jack will never know you’re there."

  Vincent looked up at the house and then back at me. "Has he seen this?" he asked, pointing to my chest. I blushed and looked down.

  "Yeah. I didn’t mean for him to, but he has."

  "Then I don’t think so. He’s probably going to be watching you."

  I whimpered in desperation. Vincent wrapped his arms around me.

  "He leaves in what, two days?" he asked.

  I sniffled. "Yeah."

  "Then I’ll see you tonight."

  "Tonight?" I asked confused.

  Vincent looked at the sky. The horizon was beginning to turn from black to navy. "Yes. Tonight." he said smiling.

  I sighed in resignation. "Alright."

  He kissed me goodbye. I didn’t want to go in the house. I never wanted to leave his side again, but this was the price. All addictions have a price. I let go of him reluctantly, and slipped silently through the front door. I was praying Uncle Jack was still asleep; I had no explanation for a midnight stroll through the forest.

  I quickly punched in the code to reset the alarm. The house was dark and quiet. I exhaled in relief and made my way upstairs. Uncle Jack was still asleep in my chair. I went to my closet and stripped down. I had to hurry, just in case he woke up. I put my bathrobe back on over my underwear and retrieved the gauze bandage from the floor where I had dropped it. The tape had lost some of its stickiness. I had to press it down to get it to stay, making myself wince. At least now all that hurt was the surface, the inside felt extraordinary.

  I crawled back in bed without waking my uncle. I felt proud of myself. I had pulled off my little excursion without getting caught. And I was whole again! I found Vincent and we had reconciled. I snuggled down into my covers and tried to go back to sleep, mostly because I had nothing better to do. The cold fire blazed inside me and the headache came back, but I managed to doze.

  I was awake when Uncle Jack finally woke up. He groaned and cracked his neck before coming over to sit on the edge of my bed. I was pretending to be asleep. He sat there a long time. He put his hand lightly on my forehead, feeling my temperature. Then he got up and left my room. I was relieved. I didn’t want to talk to him. Maybe, if I stayed in bed most of the day, I could avoid him.

  I decided when he asked about my chest, I would tell him I had an allergic reaction to some perfume I had sprayed right there. That was the best excuse I could come up with, I hoped he would buy it. I shuddered to think what he thought about my antics in the solarium.

  I stayed in my room as long as my stomach would permit, but I was starving. I dressed simply, just jeans and a soft tee shirt; a sweater would have been too scratchy on my chest. I dabbed some ointment on the raw, angry area, hoping that would stop it from cracking and bleeding. I really didn’t want to wear tape and gauze over my sternum.

  My headache was buzzing at the base of my skull, but the fact that it was there made it almost pleasurable. It was such a strange indicator that all was right with the world. Well, not all was right, Vincent was not physically with me, but my headache was a byproduct of the fire that was burning inside me. So I was happy to suffer with it, knowing what it meant.

  I crept downstairs, hoping not to draw attention to myself. Unfortunately, that was impossible. Uncle Jack was sitting in the living room, watching TV, and waiting for me. And since I had to go through the living room to get to the kitchen, he had me cornered.

  He looked at his watch and said, "Good afternoon."

  "Hi," I said timidly.

  He was looking at me intently, analyzing me. "How are you?"

  "I’m much better."

  He nodded mutely and looked down at his hands. "Why don’t you sit down and talk to me for a while?"

  "Can we talk later? I’m really hungry."

  Uncle Jack stood up. "I’ll make you something."

  "Thanks," I said grudgingly. I wasn’t going to get loose from him without a fight. I sat down at the counter in the kitchen. I was anxiously mulling over the lies I might be about to tell him.

  "So, what would you like?" he asked, standing at the fridge.

  "Uh, can I have a turkey sandwich?"

  Uncle Jack smiled and began pulling sandwich stuff from the refrigerator and placing them on the counter. I tried to sit still and look relaxed, but I was wringing my hands in my lap.

  "So, I was thinking…" he said slowly. " Maybe, if you …No."

  He wasn’t looking at me. I could tell all kinds of thoughts were running through his mind. Then he smiled and shook his head. "Never mind…Here you go."

  He slid the plate with the sandwich on it at me. I picked it up and began eating. Uncle Jack just stood there, watching me. This was uncomfortable.

  "Well, I have some calls to make. Are you sure that you are alright?"

  "Yes. I’m totally sure," I said honestly. "In fact, I’m better than alright." They were the truest words I had uttered to him since he’d been home.

  "Okay," he said. "I’ll be in my office. Let me know if you need anything… and" He looked at me sternly. "I’ll be checking on you."

  I smiled innocently. "Okay. See ya."

  "Humph," he muttered under his breath as he stalked off toward his office.

  Ugh. I couldn’t wait for him to get on that plane. Interfering. After I wolfed down every bit of my sandwich, I had to think of something to do to kill the time. I was glad I didn’t have a full day to drag through until I could see Vincent. Still, I did have a fair few hours before I could reasonably go to bed again. I figured it would be wise to stay close to Uncle Jack’s office, so when he came looking for me, I would be right there, doing nothing strange. So I plopped down on the living room couch and watched TV.

  Two mediocre movies, countless commercials, one game show, two personal size bags of chips, one soda and five hours later. In that span of time, Uncle Jack had checked on me eight times. A couple of those times he said hi and had asked me how I was doing, the rest of the time he just satisfied himself that I was still in the same place before going back to his office. It seemed so obsessive to me that I had a hard time not laughing at him when he did it.

  I got up and turned the TV off. I was hungry. It was seven o’clock. I was amazed that Uncle Jack had not come out and forced me to have dinner with him already. I went and stood outside the office door. He was on the phone with someone. I listened hard to hear what he was saying. I could only catch bits, but I could tell it was about the lawsuit, of course. It sounded like something really bad had developed for Uncle Jack’s side. He was practically shouting instructions to his lawyer. I decided to leave him to it, and feed myself.

  I threw a frozen pizza into the oven and sat on the kitchen floor while it cooked. Once it was done, I cut a piece off and choked it down–it was hardly edible. I left the remainder out for Uncle Jack and made my way down stairs. What I was doing was against my better judgment. My brain and my body were at war. I paused at the door to the solarium; I knew I should walk away. I turned the knob, desire winning out over discernment. I flipped the lights on. A swift, refreshing happiness shot through me. It was flourishing again. Nothing was brown or withered. Just five minutes, that’s all. I told myself.

  I sat on the edge of the fountain and looked up through the glass roof. The moon was shining through a haze of cloud that started dropping snow. I thought back to the night Vincent had asked me to marry him. An involuntary smile spread across my face. I stroked the tiny soft flowers of my engagement ring. It was still so alive, thriving, and pure white–like our love. The stars were peeking through the clouds and I realized I had been in there for nearly a half hour, lost in my thoughts. I swore to myself and rushed out.

  I had killed enough time. I was going to go up, say good night, and go to bed. I wasn't really tired, having slept so long, but I would force myself to go to sleep. Tonight was for us. We were going to relish and delight in each oth
er. Because of what had happened between us, I was determined to do all I could to make this the best night we had ever had. I was going to undo the wrong I had done. I was going to take away the pain and doubt I had inflicted on my love.

  In the living room I discovered Uncle Jack was off the phone and sitting in front of the fire. He had a bottle of scotch open next to him, and quickly downed a large tumbler full before he was aware I was in the room. He looked at me with bleary, bloodshot eyes, and a blank expression.

  I knew I wasn't going to get away with just saying good night and running upstairs. I sighed and sat down in the chair opposite him. He hitched a cheerful expression on his face. I could tell by his demeanor that he was not going to tell me a thing about what was going wrong in the case. He poured himself another liberal amount of scotch and took a swig.

  "So, Dulcee…"

  I was fighting my internal grimace from surfacing on my face.

  Uncle Jack cleared his throat. "I’m not going to ask you questions that you won’t answer or lie to. I have no right to meddle. You’re entitled to your privacy. But I’m not blind. I don’t know what you’re going through but whatever it is, it’s got me concerned. Like I said, I’m not going to ask, but I suspect your mother has something to do with it."

  That hit me sideways. I wasn’t expecting him to say that, but I was grateful for his wrong assumption.

  He took another swig and pressed on. "I would like it if you would trust me enough to confide in me. I know what a beast your mother is."

  I looked at the floor, confused by the way his words made me feel.

  "I’m not ready," I muttered. "Give me a little more time. I promise, when your trouble is over and you’re back home, I’ll tell you everything." I didn’t know if there was any truth to what I had just said, but I hoped there was.

  I looked up at him. His eyes, though inebriated, had a wealth of compassion for me. He smiled ruefully and took another drink.

  "The right choice is always the hardest, Dulcee. Everyone says, ‘follow your heart,’ Sometimes, that’s the worst thing you could do. The heart is full of evil, even the best hearts. How could you trust it?"

  I was perplexed at his train of thought. Maybe he always got philosophical when he was drunk. I shrugged and tried my best to answer his question.

  "The way I see it, sometimes, things just are, Uncle Jack. Sometimes, there is no choice. Good or bad, some things just are. And other times someone else is making the choices for you."

  He nodded emphatically and threw down the rest of the booze in his glass. "You should probably go to bed soon," he said. "Try to get another good night’s sleep, get all caught up."

  "Yeah, I’m sure it will be a task though. I could probably stay up all night. But I’m going to try my best to get to sleep."

  "Hey, would you like some herbal tea?" he asked. "I’ve got some that works wonders when I can’t sleep."

  "Yeah, sure. Tea sounds good. The sooner I get to sleep the better. I just don’t want any more sleeping pills."

  Uncle Jack got up and went to the kitchen. After a few minutes the kettle was whistling. He came back with a steaming mug of hot tea. He plopped back down in his chair and poured himself some more scotch. We sat in silence for a while, both of us staring into the depths of the fire. I sipped the steaming tea, sweetened with honey. Maybe it might do the trick. I was starting to feel relaxed. It was time for me to make my exit.

  "Well, I think I’ll go up now," I said, getting to my feet. "Goodnight."

  Uncle Jack hardly seemed to hear me, his eyes never left the fire. "Night," he grunted, his glass on his lips.

  As I started up the stairs, Uncle Jack half whispered, "I’m sorry, Dulcee."

  "What?" I asked, turning back to face him.

  "Nothing, never mind."

  I shrugged it off, he was drunk. I carefully carried the remainder of my tea up to my room, shut, and locked the door. I was excited about seeing Vincent, but I also felt a little strange. Maybe it was the cryptic conversation I just had.

  I set the tea by my reading chair and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and striped down to nothing, leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor. I looked briefly in the mirror at my pink, scabby chest it felt irritated.

  I went and fished out the little black box that contained my blue satin nightgown from under the bed. I slid it on and looked in the full mirror on the wall. It made me sad that the top of my ragged scabs could be seen. Apart from that, I could easily admire myself. It wasn’t a mean, teasing thing for me to put this on. Vincent wasn’t going to be with me physically tonight anyway. He would join me once I fell asleep. I shivered, still feeling strange, and I couldn’t identify the reason for it.

  I turned on the fireplace and turned off the lights. The moon was out, shining brightly through my windows. I was almost ready to go to sleep, but not quite. I was amazed at how tired I felt. I sat down in my reading chair and flicked on the small lamp next to it. I picked up the mug of tea, it had cooled off quite a bit, enough for me to take bigger drinks, not just sips. I finished it off in three chugs and set the mug back down. Within thirty seconds I no longer felt strange, I felt wrong. I tried to shake it off but I was drowning in panic.

  I took a deep breath and pulled the book, our book, out from under the chair. I opened the cover and the panic pulled me under. There was nothing there! The pages we had filled had been ripped out. A haze began to overtake me. NO! I must fight it. The book fell to the floor as I stood up, unsteadily. I was dizzy, groggy.

  It’s just a nightmare. You’ll wake up. I tried to convince myself. Then I winced in pain as I unconsciously tore at my chest. Now I understood. I screamed in rage, grabbed the empty mug that had been the vessel of my destruction, and threw it against the wall. It broke into pieces and clattered to the floor. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let my uncle drug me?

  I stood at the window and pressed both my open hands against it. The snow was falling heavily, and at the edge of the trees was Vincent. He was standing completely still, and as a camera can focus on objects far away, so my eyes zoomed in on his face. I could see him as though I was standing before him. I gasped. My mind rejected what I was seeing. The ocean in his eyes had turned red. Blood was running down his cheeks instead of tears. His beautiful eyes were hemorrhaging. Then he made me feel what he was feeling. He threw a javelin of pain at me that impaled me through my core. He believed I had rejected him, taken barbiturates again to make him go away.

  "Oh, Vincent no!" I sobbed, banging on the glass. "Ii wasn't me! I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know!"

  I reached for the knob to open the doors to my terrace, but instantly retracted my hand. A slicing pain bit down on my ring finger. The band of flowers was tightening. My finger started gushing blood, turning the white flowers red. I began pulling at it, trying to remove it. Soaked with blood, the ring slid from my finger. I held it in my palm, and the flowers withered and turned to ash before my eyes. I whimpered and looked back on Vincent. The ring wasn’t the only thing he was going to take from me. A hard edge warped his features and he held up the blue glass rose he’d given me. He threw it to the ground violently and shattered it under his boot. I wailed in sorrow.

  He smiled at me in a way that made me hold my breath in horror. His face was full of malice and cruelty. He moved with deliberateness, as he reached into his coat and pulled out my snow globe. My heart stopped. Through all of the panic and despair, I felt outrage. Maybe it was his right to take back the things he had given me, but the snow globe was mine! Would he destroy it, too? He held it up, motionless for a second, before tucking it back in his coat. I exhaled in a momentary relief. Then he turned his back on me and disappeared under the trees.

  "NO!" I cried loudly, banging on the window. "Don’t leave me!"

  Hypnosis flowed through my veins and I felt like I might drop to the floor, but I was not going to lie down and just let him walk out of my life. Adrenal
ine was rising in me, trying to combat the drugs. I didn’t care what happened to me, life was not worth living if I lost him.

  I ran from my room and down the stairs. I fell sideways on the floor at the base of the staircase. Uncle Jack was nowhere to be seen. I forced myself up. My steps were clumsy and my head was spinning, but I was almost to the front door. I unlocked the deadbolts and pulled the door open, the alarm sounded through the house. A gush of frozen wind hit my bare skin, reviving me slightly. Uncle Jack burst from his room at the sound of the alarm.

  "Dulcee!" he yelled after me. "What are you doing?"

  I didn’t stop.

  "Vincent!" My pleading scream echoed through the mountains. My feet skid on the ice and my vision blurred. Fighting with every fiber of my being, I stumbled closer to where Vincent had vanished into the forest.