Suddenly, the temperature was moderate. A soothing, cool band of moisture cradled her forehead and Jayden reached for it.
“There now,” said a deep, male voice. “Take it easy.”
She caressed the washcloth that had been folded across her eyes. Confusion and befuddlement duked it out in her exhausted mind.
“Did we make it?”
“You’re home. You’re okay,” he replied.
Jayden’s mind cleared and she pulled the cloth away. “Dad!” He was kneeling beside her bed.
“It’s okay now,” he said soothingly. “You’re safe.” He smiled but his face was lined with concern. “You were dreaming.”
Sitting upright, Jayden patted her arms, her chest and her hair. She was dry. She gingerly massaged her legs, knowing that if she had fallen into the volcano vent, she’d be broken and bruised.
She was neither.
Relieved, Jayden hugged her knees, then reached out and hugged her dad.
“Oh, Dad. The climb is steeper and the fall deeper with every dream. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
Her dad shifted back on his haunches, confounded. “But you told me they weren’t the same dreams as before.”
“Well, they’re not exactly the same,” she said slowly. “Our mission is two-fold,” she whispered, repeating Max’s statement. “To rescue Georgia and to ‘fall’ into the Town of Sleepmore.”
“Our mission?” her dad repeated. “Georgia?” He moved beside her on the bed, taking her hand in his. “Tell me.”
Thirty minutes later, Jayden leaned against her headboard, drained. It was 4 a.m.
Her dad regarded Jayden with awe. “I’m at a complete loss for words. Except to say that you have my most profound respect.”
“That’s nice of you to say Dad, but oh, I don’t know, the whole thing is strange. It seems every one of my dreams has a crossing point – you know – like the ‘crossing point’ you keep talking about. Each of these crossing points comes with a climb and then a big ‘fall.’”
She closed her eyes and gave up her biggest fear. “And every time I fall, I think I’m gonna die.”
Her dad’s eyes widened in anguish. “Oh, Jayden.” He embraced her tightly and tenderly kissed the side of her head. Holding her shoulders, he looked her straight in the eye.
“I believe dreams have a purpose. And now that I’ve heard what your dreams are about, I believe your dreams have a higher purpose than most. Do not be afraid about failing or falling, because your goal – your mission – is greater than you. And you will become greater for it.”
Jayden knitted her brows in confusion. “Sorry, Dad, but that was a bit too deep for me to understand right now. Maybe in the morning?”
“In the morning we can talk about it some more,” he agreed. “Tomorrow – actually today – your softball playoffs begin.”
“And we visit Mom,” Jayden added.
“Yes.” Her dad straightened the duvet and arranged it comfortably around her shoulders. “Will you be able to sleep?”
Jayden yawned. “Yup.”
He kissed her forehead and turned out the light. In the hallway, he walked a few paces then slumped against the wall. Sliding to the floor, he took his head in his hands. “What do I do?”
* * *
Wasiem Nanjee straightened his ball cap, angling the peak lower on his forehead. The sun was high in the sky and unusually warm for late September. Parents and fans packed the ball stands and he joined the dozen-or-so parents sitting in lawn chairs beside the Royals’ dugout.
The team pitcher, B.A., clapped her hands together and in a loud voice, sparked the chant on the bench: “Let’s go Royals, let’s go!” The Royals were undeniably the most vocal and exuberant team in the league. In return, fans hooted and hollered as the lead batter stepped to the plate.
Mr. Nanjee’s mind drifted. He clapped when everyone else clapped and cheered when everyone else cheered, but his thoughts were not on the ball game. He was trying to formulate a plan that would get Jayden out of the nightmarish cycle of dreams. But because the ‘other-worldly’ aspect of her dreams was beyond his comprehension, he felt powerless. That feeling was not typical for him: he always made things right for Jayden. At least, he thought he did. His mind turned briefly to his ex-wife, Patty, and his heart filled with shame knowing that for years he avoided dealing with the disturbing reality of Jayden’s life with her mom.
“The past cannot be changed but the future is ours to write,” he whispered.
He leaned back, thoughts swirling, as the innings rolled one after the other. When the final ‘out’ was called, he was no closer to a solution than he was at the beginning of the game.
The fans applauded and cheered while the teams shook hands on the field.
“Wasn’t that a great game?” exclaimed the parent beside him.
“Ah, yes it was!” Mr. Nanjee replied. He had no idea if it was great or not. “Do you know the final score?”
“It was 10-7 for us,” she answered.
“Well, then, it was a great game!”
Jayden jogged over to her dad, her ball bag slung over one shoulder. She gave him a high-five and smiled. “We’re on to the semifinals next week!”
“Isn’t that great?” he replied. “Your team rocks!”
Jayden nodded in agreement but a moment later, her smile faded and she regarded him pensively. “Shall we go visit Mom now?” They began walking to the car.
“I thought you’d prefer to go home and change first.”
“Nah,” Jayden said. “If we leave now, we’ll be at the rehab place by three. That’s better than getting there at four o’clock.” She frowned and glanced sideways at her dad. “I don’t know what to expect...” She left her sentence unfinished.
Her dad placed an arm across her shoulders. “Don’t worry. We’ll do everything in our power to make this visit a positive experience. For all of us.” He unlocked the trunk with the remote key and Jayden stowed her baseball gear. Walking to the passenger door, he held it open, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture and bowing deeply. “Your carriage, my lady!”
Jayden laughed softly and plunked herself in the front seat. “Dad, you’re so silly.” And I love you for it.
Mr. Nanjee was inching the car out of the gravelled lot when something struck Jayden’s window. She flinched instinctively, holding her arm in front of her face. Her dad braked and the car came to a dead stop.
“What was that?” he asked.
A moment later, a girl with a giant pineapple ponytail came bounding toward them. She scooped up the baseball glove she had flung at the window and jumped up on the hood, parking her butt on the passenger side in front of Jayden.
Mr. Nanjee’s jaw dropped. “Do you know this girl?”
“Yeah,” Jayden said. It was her new friend, D.S.
“Well, tell her to get off my car!”
Jayden flipped D.S. her middle finger.
“Not like that!” her dad cried.
Jayden opened the passenger window and D.S. scrambled off the car and poked her head in. She pushed her sunglasses down her nose and peered around Jayden.
“Yeah, I’m a nosy-parker but sa-a-a-y, who’s pimpin’ your ride?” She smiled invitingly at Mr. Nanjee.
“This is my father,” Jayden retorted.
D.S. backed out of the window as if she had been shot.
“Oh... uh, sorry.” She pushed her sunglasses back to their original position. “My team’s warming up and I saw you get in this car. Um, so, how’d you do?”
“We won,” Jayden responded.
“So you’ll be playing next weekend?”
“Yup.”
“Well, we’re playing at three. If we win, we’ll advance too.”
Jayden remained silent.
D.S. leaned over the hood and wiped off her bum print. She winked at Mr. Nanjee and declared, “Just like new,” before blowing a kiss at Jayden. She sauntered away, ponytail swinging. “See you at school on Monday!”
Mr. Nanjee was flabbergasted. “That’s one of your friends? What a saucy girl!”
“Yeah, she’s definitely got spunk,” Jayden admitted. “Sorry, Dad, about your car. Do you want me to check for scratches?”
“No. Let’s just get out of here before something else comes our way.”
Driving to the rehab facility, Jayden sipped on a bottle of juice while her dad rattled on about food choices, friend choices and television show choices.
“Okay, Dad!” Jayden said sharply, holding up her hand. “I know you love to impart fatherly pearls of wisdom, but you don’t have to do it 24-7.” Her voice softened. “Okay?”
“But I’m your dad and that’s what dads do.”
“Yeah, well, right now I’m thinking about Mom and I’m trying to figure out if I should hate her or feel sorry for her.”
“Never hate,” he answered. “Hate turns to bitterness and bitterness makes your heart hollow.”
Jayden inhaled sharply. “That’s what Mom said she has – a hole in her heart.” Jayden turned her head toward the window as tears welled in her eyes. “She said I did it. That I put the hole in her heart.”
“No, Jayden, it is not your fault. You did not put a hole in your mom’s heart,” he emphasized. “She chose to grow it.” They pulled into the rehab facility and Mr. Nanjee parked the car. “Think about it. We make choices, dozens and dozens of choices every day, from what to wear and what to eat – even what to think.” He squeezed her arm. “People try to blame others for their problems but it always comes back to this question: what choice did you make?”
Jayden brushed away her tears and unbuckled her seat belt. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get this over with.”
They walked toward the sprawling concrete facility, passing manicured lawns and multiple seating areas, each surrounded by large flower gardens. It was a tranquil place.
At the main reception desk, they inquired about Patty. The receptionist made a phone call, speaking quietly into the mouthpiece. “Ms. Watson will meet you in the visitors’ lounge, down the hall and to your left.” She handed over two ‘VISITOR’ tags and told them to clip the laminated card to their clothes. Jayden attached her tag between the buttons of her baseball jersey and her dad clipped his on the collar of his jacket.
“I’m really, really nervous,” Jayden stammered. “I don’t know what to say and I don’t know what to do,” she babbled on as they walked toward the lounge area. “Should I smile? Should I pretend to be happy? Should I give her a hug?”
“Do you normally hug?” her dad asked.
“No, never,” Jayden replied.
“Well, just do what you think is right.”
They entered the visitors’ lounge. It was a large, airy room with groups of overstuffed armchairs and coffee tables, each placed a discreet distance from each other. An enormous, hand-painted mural filled the length of one wall, depicting a string of rocky, cloud-covered mountains. Charming, flower-filled gardens stretched across the foreground of the mural which included a life-sized Monarch butterfly perched daintily on one of the painted petals. The mural was breathtaking and Jayden stopped, mesmerized by its realism. Her dad’s nudge ended her trance and he led her toward the wall-to-wall set of windows, gently guiding her into a vacant loveseat. He sat on the edge of an armchair, alongside her. They stared through the windows, waiting. A large glass door between the windows led to a stone terrace and outdoor seating areas.
“Jayden?”
The voice was hesitant, softly-spoken, as if requesting permission to use her name, requesting permission to be in the same room.
Jayden didn’t budge. I can’t move. She was frozen to inaction, her mind fighting a tumultuous battle between being nice or being a bully. Her mom expected ‘bully’ because it was Jayden’s way. It was, in fact, their ‘normal’ pattern of dealing with each other. Jayden glanced at her dad and one look at his stricken face told her the choice she needed to make.
Jayden gripped the arm of the sofa and stood. Turning toward her mom, she held out her arms. “Ma.”
Patty dropped her shoulders in relief and stepped into Jayden’s arms, her face downcast. She burrowed her face in Jayden’s shoulder and began to sob quietly, repeating over and over, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
After a few minutes, Jayden pulled away, her mind still in turmoil. Patty lifted her face and Jayden gasped in horror. Her mom was a wreck. There were dark circles under her eyes and her face was puffy with pink and red splotches across both cheeks. She smelled terrible, as if every ounce of every cheap bottle of vodka and every cheap bottle of wine she ever drank was oozing out of every pore. Jayden stepped back and looked to her dad for help, but he had his head in his hands.
What to do? I need fresh air.
“Let’s go outside,” Jayden suggested.
Her mom grabbed hold of Jayden’s arm and together they walked to the glass door. Her dad got there first and held it open.
“Always the gentleman,” Patty murmured.
Mr. Nanjee nodded but made no comment.
Jayden surveyed the terrace, hoping to find a secluded sitting area.
“This way,” her mom said, pointing toward the road linking the rehab facility to the hospital. “There’s a shared smoking area over there.”
They walked in silence, Patty leaning heavily on Jayden. Mr. Nanjee kept his distance behind them. Patty was panting heavily by the time they reached the crossroad where the transparent, plastic-walled enclosure was erected. It contained a single bench and a flowerpot-sized ashtray. ‘Designated Smoking Area’ signs were plastered on the outer walls. Patty plunked herself down on the bench and Jayden took a few steps back, holding her breath. The enclosure reeked of stale cigarette smoke. Her dad remained outside.
With trembling fingers, Patty dug into the pocket of her sweater and removed a small package of cigarettes. She attempted to strike a match but her unsteady hands produced no result. Jayden stepped forward and took the box; she struck a single match and held the flame close, watching the cigarette glow as her mom inhaled. Jayden stepped out of the enclosure, stifling a cough.
Patty exhaled dramatically, then eyed her daughter from head to foot and back to head again. “What are you wearing?”
“It’s my ball uniform.”
“You play baseball?”
“Softball, actually. Windmill pitch.”
“I didn’t know,” her mom responded. “I don’t know what you do on weekends with your dad. You never tell me anything.”
“You never ask.”
Patty glared at Jayden, then slowly softened her look, replacing it with a pitifully miserable glance. She sat back against the transparent plastic wall and pulled her sweater closer around her body.
“I’m trying to get sober,” Patty said, emphasizing the word ‘trying.’
“You can do it, Ma,” Jayden replied. “I know you can.”
“How do you know I can,” Patty hissed, momentarily reverting to her defensive behaviour. Her cheeks reddened further and she waved the cigarette in the air. “Sorry – I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay. I know you can do it, Ma, because you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.” Jayden nodded at her mom. “You are.”
Mr. Nanjee piped in. “Obstinate. The most obstinate woman in the world, I would say. THE world.” He nodded sagely.
“Pretty sure that’s not going to help,” Jayden murmured.
Patty stood up, fury masking her face. “How dare you,” she sputtered. She paused, pointing a quivering hand at her ex-husband. “It’s your fault I’m here,” she said to him.
“But, I thought it was my fault,” interrupted Jayden.
“No, it’s his fault.”
Mr. Nanjee joined his hands behind his back and studied his ex-wife. “I will help you in every way I can, Patty, even paying for your stay here if you are unable to. But,” he warned, “you will not lay the blame for your actions on the shoulders of our daughter.”
Patty began to twitch uncontrollably and she cried out, “It’s so hard. Everything is so hard.”
Jayden knelt at her feet. “It’s okay, Ma. You can do this. We can do this.”
Tears spilled again from Patty’s eyes and she dabbed at them with the sleeve of her sweater. “I want to go to my room now. This is exhausting.”
Jayden helped her mom to her feet. “Sure, Ma. Whatever you say.” The trio moved toward the sidewalk.
* * *
Connor slowly braked at the parking lot exit ramp. It had been a frustrating day at the hospital – no improvement in Georgia’s condition. She remained motionless, trapped in a place where Richard roamed. Connor banged the steering wheel with his fist once, twice, three times. He considered himself a man of action but at the moment, he judged himself ‘useless’ when it came to saving his sister.
The clock on the dashboard displayed 3:42 as Connor turned out of the lot, heading home. His mom had finished her day shift and was spending the remainder of the afternoon at Georgia’s side. The posted speed limit was 40 km/hr and Connor stepped on the gas. There were no cars on the road and the manicured lawns around the rehab centre were bare except for a trio of people walking toward him. Connor dismissed them at first, thinking they were patients. He applied more pressure on the accelerator pedal and the car surged forward in response. He glanced casually at the threesome, then froze. What? Connor closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief while his heart lurched sideways in his chest. That girl. That swagger. He clenched the steering wheel and stared. The tall, black-haired, green-eyed girl in the middle of the group was her. The girl from his dreams. Jayden.
Connor continued to stare at her, mouth agape, head turning, as he drove off the road and into a tree.