542 Days

8. Chapter 8

Chapter Four

Josh was right. The view was breathtaking when we made it to the top. The sun set into the ocean, leaving an overcast of purple. It appeared as if the clouds trailed off with no end. It was surreal, like some mystical universe that seemed unlike any place on Earth I had ever been. The scent of grass after a fresh rainfall instantly eased me as I took my sweatshirt off, and Josh took a blanket out of his backpack and set it down on the grass. As I sat down, I watched him lift his hoodie over his head, as his t-shirt lifted a bit over his stomach, exposing just a sliver of his incredibly toned six-pack before he pulled his t-shirt back in place and fixed his now messy hair. He started shuffling through the bag as I studied his body, his muscles retracting and a hint of a tattoo that appeared to be flames peeking out from his shirt on his left bicep.

He took out a wrapped sandwich and handed it to me.

“You like turkey?”

“Sure,” I said as I took the sandwich from him. He put the thermos of water between us, opened a granola bar, and leaned on his elbow as he took a bite and looked over his shoulder. “I told you it’s beautiful,” he said, taking in the view.

I swallowed the bite of my sandwich. “That’s an understatement. It’s stunning. Is that all you’re eating?”

“I only had one sandwich. I wasn’t expecting company,” he said, taking another bite of his granola bar. Suddenly I felt like a complete jerk for not even thinking I had just taken his only sandwich.

“Oh no, here, take half,” I said, springing up to my knees as I tried to break the sandwich.

“It’s fine, really eat it,” he insisted, laughing as if I were the most amusing thing that had happened to him in a while.

“We can share it, really,” I demanded. I finally broke the sandwich in half and held it out to him, but he firmly held his lips together. “What are you doing?”

“Revolting,” he mumbled through his closed lips. “You can’t force me to eat.”

I shook my head. “Oh, you’re going to be a massive pain in my ass.”

He shot me a mischievous smile and lay down on the blanket, his hands behind his head. “Oh, you have no idea how true that statement is,” he said.

When I finished my sandwich, I followed his lead and lay down next to him, staring up at the clouds. We spoke about Haven. He filled me in on all the details, what it was like being there, the ins and outs, how to survive, what to expect, and how to cope. He was there for three months and had three months left. He didn’t speak to many people until I came along and kept to himself. He hiked a lot, learned to do reiki, a form of mediation, and told me that he would teach me how to do it when I expressed interest. He was the son of a billionaire CEO and was handed his own company at 21. He got to choose what company he wanted, making him the CEO of a modeling agency in New York, so typical. Despite how predictable he was on the outside, there was something unusual about him. For starters, the way he made me feel. I was so comfortable around him. He had a way of making me feel like I could tell him anything and everything. He could calm me down in a second, even though I didn’t know him. We had spent all day out there, the sun was setting, as we both lye there gazing up at the stars that were now starting to appear as the darkness was setting in.

I told him all about the night that landed me there. The night the therapist was asking me about. I was in San Diego for an autograph signing. My friend Colleen and I were partying hard that night. We had just had a VIP table at the hottest nightclub in the area. We met a few guys, went back to my room, and let’s just say, things got a bit crazy. The next day my agent Debbie tried to get me up, and I was so hungover, could barely move, and was refusing to go. The only thing she could do to entice me was to go, was throw a bag of cocaine at me. I shouldn’t have driven. It was stupid. If I could take back that night, I would in a heartbeat. I didn’t see the car coming; all I could remember was that it was pouring and then a loud crash and black.

I told him that I didn’t like the therapist they assigned me and that he was trying to blame my mother. I explained to him my mother had committed suicide when I was five years old, and my biggest fear was inheriting her mental illness. I couldn’t understand how a therapist could try to blame a DUI on that.

“What was the part you didn’t tell him?” he asked.

I tilted my head and looked into his blue eyes. How did everyone know there was something I wasn’t telling them? s**t, for an actress, I was doing a pretty shitty job at hiding one damn detail. I took a deep breath and exhaled. f**k it- who cares if this guy thinks I’m crazy. What’s he going to do, tell his therapist on me? I needed to get it off my chest, to someone, anyone.

“I had got a message the day before, right before I went out,” I began. “The girl giving me the massage told me all this crazy shit.” He leaned in towards me.

“What kind of crazy s**t?”

“That I had a curse on me. She said I was a witch and that I had all these powers, except I was bound. I was a healer, some other weird stuff.” He was staring at me intensely, listening to me tell the story. “After Debbie gave me the coke that day, I watched something being traced in the mirror when I got out of the shower. Like a ghost or something, I don’t know what the f**k it was, but I watched it, Josh, clear as day. The message 542 days was written in the fog.”

His mouth dropped, and he stared at me speechless for a second. I was expecting him to say I must have been hallucinating from the drugs, but that is not what he said. Instead, he asked:

“542 days? What the f**k does that even mean?”

“I have no idea, but I freaked the f**k out and ran out of the hotel and got behind the wheel high.” We sat silently for a few minutes as if he were processing what I had just told him.

“What kind of mental illness did your mom have?” he asked with empathy.

“I don’t know. Dementia? Schizophrenia? Hard to say she refused to talk to a therapist or get a mental evaluation. She saw things,” I said. Then it hit me. He didn’t believe me. He was implying I was hallucinating. Of course he would. What the f**k was I thinking telling some random guy something as bizarre as that. I quickly stood up and grabbed my sweatshirt and zipped it up.

“I want to go,” I said crossly.

He jumped to his feet and came over to me with a look of concern. “Why? What happened? Did I say something wrong?”

I started rocking back and forth, and my eyes started burning as I could feel my anger rising. Tiny droplets of water started falling from the sky as Josh bent down to put his hoodie back over his head. He pulled his hood over his hair and reached his hand out to mine. I tried to pull back, but he wouldn’t let me. Instead, he took his other hand and placed it on top. I felt the warmth of his hands flow through my veins as if his touch were somehow a sedative. He inched closer to me, his hands still cupping mine, his eyes penetrating me.

“Cali, what’s wrong?”

“You don’t believe me. You think I’m crazy,” I said, my lips quivering. Yet, I was surprisingly calming down as if he had me under some kind of spell.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, I promise you. What kind of things did your mom see?” he asked.

“She thought she was a witch,” I elaborated.

“She thought? Or she was?”

I stared at him blankly. Thought or was? What the f**k kind of question was that? Did he believe in witchcraft? I couldn’t get into with him. Not then. I was hesitant enough after telling him about her visions, I wasn’t comfortable sharing with him that she performed rituals, cast spells, not yet anyway. But I was interested in hearing what his thoughts on witchcraft was.

“Do you think I could possibly have a curse on me?” I asked, now incredibly curious what his answer would be. He led me by the hand back to the blanket. Letting go, he sat back down. He took his hoodie back off as I looked up and noticed the rain had stopped again. He jerked his neck towards the ground for me to sit back down. I rested back down next to him.

“Yes, I think a lot of unexplainable things are possible. Curses, ghosts, gifts. Look, I think I have something on me also. I don’t know if it’s a curse or a punishment, but I know for certain I am paying the price for something I’ve done in a past life,” he said.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“I can’t explain it. But I’ve always known. A feeling I have had ever since I was a kid, a weight I’ve always carried—visions I’ve always had in dreams. You must think I’m insane,” he said as he shifted his eyes to the ground in embarrassment. Evidently, he wasn’t used to having this type of conversation with anyone.

“So, I take it you believe in reincarnation?” I asked.

“Oh, for sure,” he said, without hesitation. “You ever have that déjà vu feeling, like you’ve been here before? I think most likely you have, just in a different life. Dreams or events that come back to haunt you. The law of karma- you get what you put out into the universe, good or bad. That’s what I believe anyway.”

Realizing Josh had such a spiritual side to him, the occurrences in the past two days started racing through my mind. The way he was able to calm me down instantaneously. When I met him that first day, he knew I was picturing what he sounded like getting off, he spontaneously knocked on the door as soon as I asked for help, or how he even knew my room number, for that matter. He said “revolting” through closed lips. I never told him I hadn’t told the therapist I was leaving part of the story out, and it had occurred to me his mouth never actually moved when he was asking me any of these questions. It was like we were communicating telepathically. Without opening my mouth, I looked directly into his eyes. Are you reading my mind?

Yes, he replied.

What number am I thinking of? I silently asked.

He smiled as his eyes seemed to twinkle with sudden excitement. He lifted his hand to his forehead and extended three fingers in the air. I sprung up and looked at him in awe.

“That incredible!” I exclaimed. “Could you always do this?”

He sat up excited also.

“Yes, but I never met anyone else who could. I knew you were special, Cali.”