Blue Aspen Read online

  Dulcee looked down at herself, half expecting to see her blue nightgown. Instead of the beautiful garment she was so fond of, she was wearing a faded, floral print hospital robe. An angry wind whipped up around her, blowing leaves from the dead aspen. The wind made the leaves fall around her like snow. Then a distinct knocking sound reverberated around her. Who was knocking? What were they knocking on? It sounded like glass. Dulcee moved toward the sound. As she walked, she realized just how small a space she was in. There through the dead trees was Vincent!

  Dulcee tried to run, but found that as she moved forward, there was a tugging at her wrist. She didn’t even look to see what the cause, she just pulled ahead, trying to get to Vincent. He was right in front of her, only a few feet away, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking past her, over her. Then he raised his fist and knocked. A thick layer of glass separated them.

  "Dulcee?" Vincent called.

  Dulcee could barely hear him through the barrier. "Vincent!" she yelled.

  Vincent cocked his head to the side, a frown creasing his brow. He cupped his hands around his eyes and put his face to the glass, trying as hard as he could to see in. Dulcee made to move forward to knock on the glass too, but she could move no further. The pulling at her wrist had ceased to give, and for the first time she looked down to see what it was that bound her. It was a hospital bracelet, and the end of its plastic excess ran along the ground and into the hand of Lyle Archer. Lyle was lolling against a tree trunk, watching her struggle at the other end with a smile on his face.

  "Let go!" Dulcee screamed.

  Lyle continued to smile and shook his head lazily from side to side. Dulcee clawed at the bracelet but to no avail. She whipped her head around to look back at Vincent. He was still there, trying to see in, and looking frustrated. He dropped his hands from around his eyes and took a step backwards.

  "Vincent!" She screamed again. "Wait! I’m here! Just don’t leave!"

  Vincent paused, still looking intently at the glass. Dulcee turned back to Lyle.

  "Let me go!"

  "I could let you go," he drawled. "But you still couldn’t get out of here. You’re under the glass, and there is only one door."

  Dulcee looked frantically back at Vincent, he had moved further away.

  "Where is the door?! How do I get through?"

  Lyle jerked the cord Dulcee was connected to, throwing her off balance, and looped it once around his hand.

  "I am the door, Dulcee." He looped it again, drawing her closer to him, and again. "The only way out is through me."

  Vincent’s retreating back was almost out of sight. Lyle wound the cord again and again.

  "So how do I get through?"

  Lyle reached out, grabbing Dulcee around the waist, clasping her to him. She didn’t fight. He leaned in, his lips one inch from hers, and whispered, "Kiss me."

  Dulcee sat up in bed like a Pop Tart, covered in sweat and twisting with nausea. Shivering with revulsion, she got out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, she plunged her head under its stream. She splashed her face repeatedly and rubbed her arms down, trying to wash away the dirty, violated feeling inside her. While she was still in the bathroom, someone came into her room.

  "Dulcee? You all right?"

  Wiping her face and arms quickly with her shirt, Dulcee came out to find Dr. Phelps.

  "Yeah, I’m fine," she said with very little conviction.

  "The person watching the monitors tonight said there was something going on in here that looked peculiar." Dr. Phelps looked genuinely worried. "Are you having nightmares? Are you ill?"

  Dulcee was exhausted and so very sad, she didn’t care what came out of her mouth. "I’ve been having nightmares, lots of them. I miss Vincent so much. I thought I would dream about him tonight, but it didn’t happen, at least not the way I wanted to. I’m on all these drugs and they make me sleep, but I can never seem to rest. A part of me is always awake, always sad." She sat down on her bed and rested her head in her hands.

  Dr. Phelps came over to her and started to take her blood pressure.

  "Would you like me to give you something extra to help you get back to sleep?" he asked.

  "No, thank you. I feel like the last thing I need is more drugs."

  "I understand. Would you like to talk for a while?"

  "Yes, I would," Dulcee said.

  Phelps’ surprise was obvious.

  "But, "she added quickly," I don’t want to talk and you analyze. I will only talk to you if you will talk with me."

  "Okay. That sounds refreshing to me too." Dr. Phelps smiled. "What do you want to talk about?"

  Dulcee looked earnestly at Dr. Phelps. She remembered how the first time she had seen his face she had hated him. Now, surrounded by other enemies, Dulcee didn’t feel hatred for him anymore. He was her uncle’s friend, and possibly the only real human being in the place. He would care what happened to her more than anyone else because she was his friend’s niece. She was sorry for harboring such bad feelings toward him.

  "How long have you known my uncle?" she asked.

  "Well, let me see…I think about twenty two years. We were friends in college, sort of. We didn’t stay in contact after that, but when he moved to Colorado, he called me. He was going through a great pain then, and he needed some counseling. I was happy to do it. He’s a good man. He’s been through too much." He sighed, reflecting. "And you? Have you always been close to him?"

  "No. Just very recently have I had any contact with him, my mother would not allow it before. Then she sent me to live with him, not all that long ago, yet it seems like forever with all that has happened. I was angry with him at first, but I’m not anymore. I’m very sorry that things can never be the same again. I wish they could."

  Phelps was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "I usually wouldn’t be so direct, but since we are just talking…"

  "Yes? Go ahead."

  "You’ve got a choice here, Dulcee. You can choose to get well, or you can choose to stay sick. Getting well will be harder, no doubt. It will take time and work, but you should think about your future, it was bright not so long ago. You could get all that back. It’s your choice, your life. Think about what it is that you want for yourself. What you want for your future."

  Dulcee thought for a moment. The word future hit her strangely. "I know what I want, very clearly, without doubt, but there is no one here who thinks it possible. Dr. Verell thinks what I want for my future lies deep inside my madness."

  "Do you believe that you are insane?"

  Dulcee paused. "I have misgivings about myself. I have seen some evidence that points in that direction."

  "But do you believe it?" he asked severely.

  "Sometimes."

  "Well, what is it that you want, since that is so clear in your mind?" he asked.

  "It’s complicated…Have you ever been in love, Dr. Phelps?" Dulcee was hoping he would understand. He furrowed his brow for a second.

  "No. I have never been in love, not really. I think I had something like it once, but it wasn’t meant to be."

  Dulcee was let down.

  "You know what, though," he added. "I think if I had love, I’d never let it go. I think I’d die trying to hold on to it, if I had to."

  Dulcee smiled at him. "Then you have some idea of how I feel. I had the love of a lifetime, which is really tragic for me seeing that I’m only seventeen. If I can’t get it back, I will be tortured by it the rest of my life. And if I found my love inside some hallucination, that will torture me further. I just wish I could find someone who could understand that."

  "I understand, Dulcee. If only in theory. I do understand." He placed his hand on her shoulder in an awkward way and gave her a little pat. Then his phone beeped loudly on his hip.

  "I’m sorry, I have to go. But if you want to talk to me again, some other time, I’m only here at night." He smiled and left the room.

  The large door swung shut and locked. It was dark e
xcept for the light coming in through the glass window in the door. A moment later most of the light was blacked out. Dulcee looked up to see Lyle, looking in at her through the glass. She grabbed the plastic cup of water she had on her bedside table and threw it at the window. The cup hit the glass, splashing water on the door. Lyle laughed and walked away.

  Dulcee shivered, now realizing how cold she really was. Her head was wet and her arms were clammy. She put on a sweater and crawled under her covers. Despair was filling her up. Was Vincent really in her dream, or was it just another nightmare? The only chance she had for communication with him was to go back to sleep. Trying hard to settle herself, Dulcee attempted to go back to sleep, it wasn’t easy. Her mind was still full of the last dream.

  "Just accept it," she said aloud to herself. "You are crazy. What kind of a man can enter into your dreams? What kind of a man can whisper in your ear when he is miles away? Who can turn their eyes to fire? Only someone in your head, Dulcee. Only someone in your head."

  Tears were pooling in the corners of her eyes. She lay inside her anguish for a long time, afraid it was time to face the inevitable, but then another part of her awoke. Don’t give up, she thought. Don’t lose faith. If you are mad and Vincent is a confection of it, hold on to your madness with everything you’ve got. Nourish your insanity, feed it and let it grow, until your love finds his way back to you.

  "Vincent," she whispered. "If you can hear me, comfort me."

  Dr. Verell packed on overnight bag and headed over to Jean’s house. Jean lived in an old, well cared for, part of town. Her street was lined with Victorian houses and mature trees. Jean’s house was much smaller than most on her street, more of a cottage really. She took great care of it, and Dr. Verell found it most appealing. She thought this might be the kind of house she wanted.

  Jean greeted her happily and upon entering the house, she smelled the pizza that had just been delivered.

  "I feel like a kid," Verell said smiling. "Slumber party, pizza."

  "It feels good doesn’t it?" Jean asked.

  "Yeah," she admitted.

  The two women spent the beginning of their sleep over watching a romantic movie. Jean sat through it in a normal way, enjoying the sheer fantasy of its make believe. Dr. Verell, on the other hand, was analyzing the entire thing. Further into the movie, the more disturbed she became. When the climax rolled around, Jean was tearful at the happy ending, having thoroughly enjoyed the entire movie. When the credits popped up she said, "That was a good movie. Did you like it?"

  "I don’t know," Verell answered slowly.

  "What do you mean? Why didn’t you like it?" Jean prodded.

  "I didn’t say I didn’t like it."

  "Well then?" Jean persisted.

  Dr. Verell paused, considering. Twenty minutes into the movie, she had started to think about Dulcee. "Real life is never like that, is it?"

  "No. Not usually. Why?" Jean asked, confused.

  "The movie made me think about Dulcee. I wonder if movies and books have fueled her delusions. Maybe she created her illusions from memories of things she has read or seen in movies. What do you think?"

  "Absolutely. It’s almost perfectly feminine to do that. Don’t you? I mean, in a sane way?"

  Dr. Verell looked shocked and Jean gave a little laugh. "I mean, didn’t you find yourself in that movie? Imagine it was you that yummy actor was holding? I did. It’s like reading a good romance, you are the one being romanced by the hero as you read it. It’s just fantasy. It’s normal. Everyone does it, sane or not. However, for the insane, the fantasy is real. A sane person knows it’s not real. I guess that’s something the crazy woman has over us."

  "What do you mean by that, ‘Something the crazy woman has over us’?" Dr. Verell asked.

  "I mean, that in those moments that we are in fantasy, we wish it was real, that’s all. However, unlike in the novels, there will never be a man that could always say the right thing at the right time, have looks that bring you to distraction, and make the earth move every time he made love to you. That kind of man is invented by the female authors of those books. In real life, there is no music that plays in the background. There is no perfect man, and if there were, he wouldn’t want you. Fantasy is fun, but too much is unhealthy, it can cause you to lose your grip of reality."

  The rest of the night Dr. Verell was thinking about all that Jean had said. She rolled it over and over in her head. Jean said that it was normal to fantasize, but she had never been prone to it until now it seemed. They ate their junk food, laughed like school girls, and went to bed very late. As it was becoming her habit, Dr. Verell didn’t like to go to bed without reading at least some of Dulcee’s notebook. However, she couldn’t tonight, she didn’t want Jean to see her, or question what she was doing, and she really didn’t want to share it with her.

  Dr. Verell lay awake, looking at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Her eyes kept wandering across the room where her duffle bag sat. She badly wanted to get up and get the notebook out of it, even to read just one paragraph. Jean was sound asleep next to her. Dr. Verell had offered to sleep on the couch, but Jean had insisted she wouldn’t get much sleep and that there was plenty of room in the bed.

  Finally, Dr. Verell decided to get up and just glance in the book, and then she would be able to go to sleep. The bed creaked as she sat up, and Jean shifted in her sleep. She went as quietly as she could to her bag, but the book was in the bottom and she had to dig for it. She fished it out but once she opened it, realized it was too dark to read it. The only light in the room was coming through a gap in the curtains from the street lamp outside. She moved silently across the room to the window and sat down under it. There was enough light to read.

  Verell opened the notebook to a random page, and a little folded piece of paper fell out, onto her lap. She held it up to the light and her heart instantly began thumping in her ears. The paper quivered in her shaking hand. How could it be? How many times had she read the notebook, and never seen this? How was it possible?

  It was just as Dulcee had described, made of parchment. She unfolded it and read it, her heart beating harder every second. It was not familiar, not one of the verses Dulcee had copied into her notebook. Verell knew all of them by heart, and this was not one of them.

  I know what you are. You have been caught. You don’t know what you are, but are about to be taught. Sweet dreams. -V

  The next day passed quickly and with little consequence. Dr. Verell went to work feeling tired and ill. It was not the feeling you have when you are about to get sick, it was a deep internal feeling that something is wrong with you. It was as though her soul was twisted into knots.

  Once at the hospital, Dr. Verell did not go to the staff lounge like usual, she shut herself in her office, reading Dulcee’s notebook. She was like a junky getting a fix. The moment she started reading, the knots inside her began to release.

  Her day went according to schedule with one exception, when it was time for Dulcee to come in for therapy, she did not call her. She gave no order for Dulcee to be brought to her office. For the hour that Dulcee was not there, Dr. Verell locked her door, and read some more. The small piece of paper that had fallen from the notebook the night before, was already beginning to show the signs of wear around the edges, she had read it so many times.

  By five, Dulcee had done nothing all day except sit in her room and write. She filled page after page with a letter to Vincent. When she could write no more, she sat in meditation, focusing all of herself on Vincent. Hope swelled inside her again as she watched the sun retire outside her window. Dulcee got ready for bed early, hoping that if she fell asleep as soon as possible, she wouldn’t have to see Lyle. Dulcee knew full well she may have another nightmare but that didn’t seem to bother her anymore. Any kind of dream, good or bad, confirmed her sanity, at least to her it did.

  Dr. Verell went home from work to her huge, empty house and began to pack some more. This was the last night she intended to stay t
here. After she had all of the things she was taking with her stacked by the front door, she went upstairs and got in the bath. Steam filled the bathroom, fogging the mirrors. Verell sank into the hot water, laid her head back, and closed her eyes.

  Dulcee climbed into bed, nestled into her pillow, and closed her eyes. Both women sighed and fell asleep at the very same moment. Something happened. Something unnatural. Something impossible. Distance couldn’t sever the enigmatic bond the two women shared. Fused together, they both plunged into Theta’s abyss.

  6. Mirror Membrane

  "And I set my mind to know wisdom and to know madness and folly; I realized that this also is striving after wind. Because in much wisdom there is much grief, and increasing knowledge results in increasing pain." -Ecclesiastes 1:17-18