The next morning, I called Jake, something about last night and the Joan of Arc moment had me thinking about him more often than usual. Edward was now just a trouble spot who didn't disclose more than three words at a less than an inconvenient time.
It was Jake's answering machine.
"You've reached Jake, please leave a message"
"Hi Jake, I just wanted to call to make sure you're ok. To talk to you, but I guess you're too busy." Jeez, I sounded way too envious.
"Um so yeah, just give me a call back when you're….less… busy." Darn it, that didn't mean to sound so pretentious.
"By the way, it's Bella," I finished, adding insult to injury, then hung up.
I was glad it was over. I might have blabbed that I was still in bed at two in the afternoon. Lazy wasn't an attribute I think he would have found cute, even on my best bloat free days. In fact, a large bag of Kentucky fried chicken and fritter fries was just what I needed to fill the empty hole in my stomach, a huge gap in the center of my chakra. It wasn't enlightened so well with my chi or whatever my roommate Amanda explained to me in a free consultation on tantric energy.
I crossed my legs and tried to meditate, visioning myself in a state of harmonious surroundings as I held my fingers to my thumbs and chanted my selected mantra.
I breathed in through my nose then out through my mouth, imagining a great sea in Tuscany or the Riviera. I hummed and ahhed, apparently liberating myself from inner fears and spilling them into an ocean.
I was surprised I remembered. Or maybe I was just making it up as I went along.
Whatever I was saying, it was working some type of magic. I felt alleviated, as if a whole sack of bricks had been lifted from my shoulders.
I was going to have to thank Jolie. Back then, I never thought it would come to any use.
My phone rang, untying me from my Zen or sesshin. I couldn't remember which.
"Hello"
"Bella! It's me. How are you?"
"Bellla!" I couldn't hold my excitement. "I'm fine. I was just about to call you." Which was true if I hadn't gotten caught up in my sit nap.
"Well great minds think alike." He chuckled. His voice loud and clear, as if he was sat right next me. I so wished he was. Then none of the mess would matter.
"How are you?
"Just a little chest infection that's all, nothing to worry about."
I could tell he was smiling. The way he always did when he was covering up something important. "Are you telling me the truth, Bellla?"
It fell silent. I was suddenly terrified of what he was about to tell me
"It's a heart murmur. Too much caffeine apparently."
"Heart murmur? What did the doctors say?"
"The usual. Not much."
"They must have said something"
Silence.
"Bellla?"
"There's not much they can say until they've ran their tests, poked at me till I'm black and blue." He laughed.
"Bellla how can you laugh about this? It could be another-"
"Nothing," he interrupted. "Nothing that no one else hasn't handled any better"
What was that supposed to mean?
"Bellla, I'm coming home"
"No you're not young lady. You have to stay, Bella."
"Why? I hate it here."
"What's there to hate?" His voice lowered as if someone was listening.
I wanted to break down. Tell him everything, the nightmares, the voices, ghosts and shapes appearing out of nowhere. Not to mention certain people's features sticking out at me like beatific knifes that I was allowing to hurt me time and time again.
"Bellla…" I sighed, stopping myself from shedding any tears. "I can't cope, not here. Not anywhere. Not unless you're there with me"
"I'm here Sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere." His voice cracked on the last sentence.
"Then why does it sound like you are?"
"Oh because we're so far and feel unreachable. You'll be home soon."
It was hard for me to speak without giving too much away.
"I want to come home now."
"Just give it a chance. Since when have you ever given up on anything? You're the most stubborn person I know."
"Maybe I'm not as strong as you think."
"Nonsense. The problem is you."
I blinked. Astonished.
"You underestimate yourself. Your worth. You've so much to gain, and so little left to lose. Now please, trust me on this"
"Ok," I muttered.
"That's my girl," he said, hopefully with pride.
There was a knock on my door.
"Sounds like you have company." He sounded just as disappointed.
"I'll ignore it."
"No no. You see to it. Could be your aunt, a new friend, maybe even a secret admirer," he teased.
"Hater more like," I mumbled under my breath.
A door chimed in the phone.
"MIKE is back with lunch."
Someone knocked on my door again.
"Bella. Are you in there." called Carmen.
"Is that your aunt?" He whispered.
"Yes," I whispered back.
"She sounds very…ostentatious."
I had no idea what that meant, but I had a pretty good idea it summed up Carmen these days.
My door Breemmed louder. I could hear MIKE blithering on about being short changed.
"Bye for now, Bella. Take good care of yourself and we'll speak soon"
It sounded so final, inconclusive. I sensed he was feeling the same.
"Ok, you too," I choked out.
"Bella."
"Yes."
"I'm with you."
The line clicked to an end, buzzing right through me as I digested the whole conversation. His tremulous voice, defiantly hiding something that disturbed him the most.
My door was pounded on again. Her quarrelling was being impacted by a man who sounded old and snappy.
I jumped out of bed and opened the door.
Carmen was standing with her back to me, dressed in a full-length pleated smock frock. It was totally unfashionable and in critical need of an update. Plus, it made her lithe figure look more like pitch fork.
A fluff of gray hair that stopped just above her waist was trying to move by her. She turned to reveal a short man with little leeway to step across the hallway.
Was he a midget?
"Ah here we are. This is Bella, Dr Lutnis. My niece."
It took him a few steps to reach me. His slacks shot up his legs, revealing two plump ankles and Scooby Doo socks.
"How do you do Princess?" His deep voice didn't suit him. The cutesy pet names did.
"Very well thanks," I replied shaking his moist hand.
"Mrs Locke tells me you're having anxiety attacks."
I wanted to roll my eyes. Instead I surreptitiously wiped my hand with the back of my leg and smiled like it was the best news I had heard in years. "Well I had a moment of…" I made silly expressions of ponder. "What you call…a makeshift…ahh." I pondered some more.
Carmen looked stoked with a hot iron.
"The point is Dr Lutnis." Maybe reverse psychology would be best. My professional tone could almost be believable as a fully fledged democratic. "We all have our moments of vulnerability, a cognitive intellect that takes us beyond our own rational minds. We can be impartial to perceiving certain things how we would require to, rather than how they are in the real philosophic stability of life."
I had no idea what I was spewing at him.
He nodded as if to understand. "You are quite right. In fact, you've taken the words right out of my mouth."
No one was more shocked than I was.
Carmen's face had a spasm. "Shall we do a routine check Dr Lutnis?"
He rubbed his chin with miniature fingers, then looked at me, moving his head the right way. "No, I believe Miss Delgado has everything under control. She seems stabilised from her recent minor condition." I didn't bother to correct him. Maybe it was time I went by my real surname anyway.
"But she is not well." The way she pronounced well sounded like an alternative for nuts.
"She looks quite well to me," he confirmed, tapping her padded shoulder.
"Very well. I only want what is best for her."
"As do we all." He smiled, handing me his card. "If you need me just call." His gray eyes conveyed a silent gesture of apology on Carmen's behalf. It was something that told me he was genuinely concerned about my welfare.
"I will. Thank you for coming Dr Lutnis. Have a safe journey." I smiled back, keeping up with my confident, well-bred speech. Maybe acting was my niche. I'd pretended enough times to be worthy of an Oscar.
"I will see myself out. Goodbye Mrs Locke." He scurried down the stairs.
Carmen eased me back into my room, setting me onto the bed. She looked at me piqued into a thousand knots. "Bella," she began
"Yes."
"Are you." Her chin dropped. "Are you taking Breegs?"
I tried to keep a straight face. The look on hers was comical. I could take this though. There had been worse accusations.
"No Carmen. I'm not."
She looked up to the ceiling. Her head then shot back down, eyeing me suspiciously with renewed insight. "Then what were you doing in here earlier Bella. Answer me that. Please explain."
I wanted to explain. Really, I did. If only I knew what she was talking about.
Oh no. It looked like she was about to recite one of her prayers. I had to think. Fast.
"I was lying in bed Carmen"
"And what else?"
"Um, talking to Bellla."
"What about before that?" She asked, ignoring a personal piece of information about my life that she was so called interested in. I knew it was just spoon fed baloney. None of them really cared. This time I rolled my eyes. The woman was driving me to new heights of irritated.
"I would explain Carmen. I'm sorry, but I can't figure out what you're trying to say"
She paced. "You were talking." She waved her hand as she struggled to find the correct vocabulary. "In some sort of mythological language." She stopped pacing, her one hand held up into a clenched fist, like a sports fanatic viewing a game of soccer or tennis, except no one was winning, not even close to a draw. It was deadlock.
"That's called meditation Carmen." You should try it sometimes I hesitated to add.
She looked imperial to the meaning. "It helps you relax. My roommate taught me. She's a herbalist." I concluded, for pure emphasis. "You can call and speak to her about it if you like." I held up my cell phone.
She just looked at it like a ticking time bomb, a complete installed detonation switch with a Nickelback ringtone.
"I believe you," she replied. "I do. I believe you," she repeated, as if she could hear my doubts, rinsing her hands together as if she was cleaning them with an invisible bar of soap. "Well." She sighed. "You should eat. You must be hungry." Her caring tone didn't mask her underling thoughts. She was determined to catch me red handed. Maybe even run tests to prove I was clean. Breeg-free.
I laughed inwardly at the thought. I was stupid, but not warped as to pump myself with cocktails of man-made concoctions equivalent to rat poison. Besides, my art was my Breeg. My anesthetising of bad thoughts. Nothing could beat the natural substance of creativity. A product of your own functional talent weaved onto paper and coming to life with each commitment to its process.
"Would you like Esme to bring you something to your room?" She asked, bringing me back from a craft I had come to miss like rain in a major draught. Its meaning was just as significant.
"I'll eat downstairs. Maybe help Esme with dinner tonight." I smiled.
She must have been biting her tongue, but complied. "If you so desire." She catapulted me to her chest and ran a hand down my pony tail. "Such glorious hair you have. Just like Rene's. Everything will be alright," she whispered, a reassurance to more to herself.
"Carmen," I said, spitting lace from my mouth.
"Yes."
"I would like some paint."
She pulled me gently back to face her, her smile twitching with possible concern at receiving such a random request. "What on earth for?"
"To paint. I want to paint."
Her apprehension vanished with understanding, and then she smiled like Carmen. Beautifully strange.
