A Walk Through The Darkness

Chapter 3

On Saturday morning, I woke up early and in the middle of a panic attack. I was incredibly discombobulated. I didn’t know where I was or if I was even still pregnant. Where was Angela? Was she in her room? I wouldn’t put her in her room alone as a newborn, would I?

I began moving quickly across the bed on a blind mission to find Angela.

Someone seized my arms, pulling my naked body onto their naked lap as if I were some weightless object. He was so strong. Great. Now I was gonna be r***d by some strange naked man. I wanted to be free. I had to be free. I had to find Angela.

White-noise sounds of shushing in my ear helped slow my thoughts, but they still raced around trying to discover what was real and what was now. A familiar smell faintly tickled my nose. Jack.

Jack placed one of his hands on the side of my face, tucking my head against his chest. I tried to fight him again. I didn’t want to be forced away from our child. He began petting my hair and face in slow gentle strokes.

A few moments passed before the familiar sound of his voice began to seep into the cracks and crevices of my mind. Once I recognized his voice, I tried to force myself to resurface in reality. I wanted to breathe in the smell of his skin and feel the touch of his hands instead of drowning inside of this darkness.

I finally figured out the direction his voice was coming from, but each time I tried to move in that direction, invisible waves began pulling and pressing on every inch of my mind and body, pulling me further into the silent chaos. The harder I fought to escape the black, the stronger the force became that was pinning me down.

The sound of Jack’s voice never stopped. I kept listening to the sound of him because if I was going to drown, it wouldn’t be alone in this abyss. I only wanted him.

Suddenly, Jack’s voice grew just a little bit louder and a radiant ball of white light appeared far away in the darkness. Jack had to be within the light.

Because I felt as if I were drowning, I decided to swim. I’m a shitty swimmer, but I knew that this light would be the key to finding Jack again. Each kick of my legs revealed the actual liquidity of water. I reached my arms above my head to pull the water down beneath me while I kicked fervently toward the tiny spec of light.

Using my arms and legs together made the light grow bigger, closer, brighter.

When I finally broke through the surface, I took in a long slow deep breath of air. I could feel my heart trying to slow and the touch of Jack’s skin cloaked around me.

His hand appeared on my cheek to tuck my head under his chin, against his smooth hard chest. As he began petting my hair and face, my eyes wandered around us slowly. He was asking me something, but he sounded like Charlie Brown’s Teacher. I couldn’t understand what he was saying.

Slowly, I began to focus every inch of my mind on the sound of his voice. The words began to form in his perfect pitch, “It’s not real. It was just a dream.” He repeated, “It isn’t real.”

He didn’t ask me to explain. His priority was calming me down.

It wasn’t real. It was only a dream. A creepy, terrifying, chilling nightmare.

Before I dared to speak out loud, I had to perform a quick mental analysis of my body and located Angela peacefully asleep in my womb. I wiggled my toes to make sure that I was truly awake. Good. All is good.

Happiness flooded my body from head to toe. I decided to place my hand on Jack’s bare chest to make sure that it was actually him surrounding me. The sound of his heart, the weight of his hand cradling my head against his chest, and the smell of his body engulfed all six of my senses.

What on God’s Green Earth is that sound? It sounded like Pelican dying. I released my empathetic antennas to investigate our surroundings. With exorbitant embarrassment, I learned that we were alone in our room and the sound was coming from me. There was no Pelican flopping around uncontrollably in distress, it was hysterical sobs escaping my lungs.

Moments of silence passed as Jack continued to hold me. My heartbeat slowed; my breath slowing to match the silence of the room. My eyes felt painfully dry from dehydration.

I moved to get up and Jack locked both of his arms around me tighter, refusing to let me go. “And just where do you think you’re going?”

“I have to pee really bad, Jack.”

“Your breath smells like something crawled down your throat and died, Audra.”

“Well then, let me go and I’ll brush my teeth.”

He reluctantly released his grip on me, but I could feel his eyes curiously evaluating my every move.

Closing the door to our bathroom was like shutting myself inside of a cave, a bright and spacious cave. I allowed myself to revisit my nightmare to analyze the details.

Ever since I established the telepathic connection with Angela, I’ve been privy to a reoccurring dream. The same scene, over and over again. If anything in the dream changed, it was a finite detail. Not enough to capture my attention.

Every time my eyes slid closed; I saw a faceless man peering into the crib at our daughter. His appearance was one of the details that would differ by a minute degree and in the beginning, the dream had a blank background, white like a blank art canvas.

Each time I experienced the nightmare, the background became more detailed.

The man was always dressed in head-to-toe black, like some creepy evil wanna-be Johnny Cash, except he was sickly thin. Sometimes, he would have long blonde hair. Other times, a hooded jacket covered his head. Once he even appeared to have no hair, which actually made me laugh a little.

Almost every time, he would turn his empty gaze to me. His face always appeared as a dark hallowed blur.

This time, the evil son-of-a-b***h was not only standing next to Angela’s crib, but he was holding her in his anorexic arms. When he turned to look at me, he saw the terror radiating within me and a sinister laugh was released from his voided face.

When I moved to take a step forward, he vanished with Angela in his arms like some f*****g Los Vegas magic trick.

I was left desperately clutching her vacant white crib.

My attempts at evading Jack were comically overboard, slightly dramatic, and just a teeny bit unnecessary.

“When are you gonna tell me about your dream?” He was really good about not pushing me when I wasn’t ready to talk.

Eventually, I would have to say something. It’s not like either of us could ignore what happened this morning. “It’s not that big of a deal”, I lied. “It was just a bad dream.”

Everyone knows that I’m a bad liar.

“You’ve never had a panic attack like that, especially as a result of a dream.”

“I’ll tell you about it, promise. I just don’t want to right now.” I reached out to hug him tightly against me. I still couldn’t look into his eyes. “It was a really bad dream and I’m trying not to think about it right now. When I’m certain that I’m in control of my emotions again and can accept it as just a nightmare, I promise I’ll let you know.”

Stubbornness is a key trait in my genetic makeup, so refusing to close my eyes during the hour and a half drive to my mom’s house wasn’t that difficult. If being observant was a super power, Jack would wear the tailor-made super suit that goes with it. He quickly noticed my new uncontrollable narcoleptic comas in the car, so he took on the new accommodating role as my chauffeur.

Jack and I were riding the excruciating merry-go-round of painful silence. My lack of communication was hurting Jack and he knew that he couldn’t do anything about it. Hell, I couldn’t do anything about it either because hurting him always hurt me.

In a silly attempt to ease his pain and to keep myself grounded in reality; I took his hand in mine and traced the endless circles of my anxiety with my thumb onto the back of his hand.

The scenic drive seemed long and weary this time.

I remained in a deep state of mental and emotional paralysis. Looking out the passenger window, I saw nothing except the reflection of my emotionless face staring off into a void, just like me.

I couldn’t speak aloud. Not even silently to God. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk. To anyone.

My thoughts resembled an entire spool of fishing line in a jumbled-up knot, tighter and messier than any backlash my mother could ever create when she attempted to throw out a fishing line.

I couldn’t even focus on the upcoming dreadful shopping trip with her.

Jack stopped the car. I slowly realized we were parked in my mom’s driveway. Mom lives up in Citronelle in the Country Club. It’s a time loop back to the 1960’s era with large ranch style homes on a golf course on the edge of a small town.

My mom and dad divorced when I was a kid. I’ve never known why they separated, neither of them speak about it. There wasn’t much time that passed before Steve waltzed into our lives. Now that I think about it, I don’t remember much of her rockin’ out life as a single mom.

Mom came bouncing out the front door.

“Sorry babe, but you have to do this.” Jack’s sincerity washed over me.

“Yep.”

Mom spoke through the closed window, “Audra! You’ll never believe what I found up in the attic!”

Opening the car door, I unsuccessfully attempted a normal, “Hey mom!” My voice sounded extremely fake. I should smile.

Surprisingly, she didn’t seem to notice the lack of inflection in my voice or maybe it was hidden by the sound of the car door closing.

“You got a new car?”

“Jack decided to surprise me. What do you think?

“It’s a little big, don’t you think?” She waived me on to the house. “Everything’s on the kitchen table! Hey Jack!”

“Hey Mrs. Karen.”

“Steve is in the back yard.”

“Yep. That’s where I would be too.”

I walked inside while Jack went around the house. Mom seemed to want to reach the table first for show-and-tell.

For f**k’s sake, the table was covered entirely with stacks of various types of boxes filled with Lord-only-knows-what.

My mother refuses to get rid of anything. Her attic is busting at the rafters with boxes and tucker-totes filled with dry-rotting garbage from her childhood and mine. The woman is sixty years old. That’s over sixty years of mostly useless antiques decomposing under the roof of her house.

She went directly to an unmarked cardboard box quickly swiping up an object before spinning back around. If I was as giddy as she is, I would vomit. Her arms extended out toward me with the finesse of a street race car driven by an amateur teenage boy. With both hands, she presented to me a medium sized box swathed in red velvet. “Open it.”

Inside of the sophisticated looking box was laid an elaborate round gem encrusted medallion. It was aged silver, maybe pewter, with a rainbow of gemstones strategically placed in alternating twin rows along the outer edge. In between the two rows of gemstones, the words ‘Quis ut Deus’ was inscribed, each word separated by a tiny intricate cross. Embossed in the center was a male angel with prominent wings in a battle stance wielding a sword.

I will always recognize this angel—St. Michael, the Arch Angel.

Medal was surprisingly heavy and an unknown presence was pulsating out of it, almost vibrating with my touch. Whatever this presence was, it was powerful and I was only getting a tiny glimpse of what it was.

I casually removed my fingers from it. I’ve never let anyone, except Jack, know about my sixth sense. I quickly developed a theory: If it scared me and no one ever spoke of the things that I felt and saw, then I shouldn’t either.

The magnificence of this piece astonished me. “Mom, it’s beautiful.” Zero fakeness infiltrated my tone.

“I don’t remember the history behind it, I only know that your Great-Granny Collier gave it to me not too long before she died. She told me to hold on to it until I have a grand-daughter.”

“What?”

“That’s what she said. You’re Great-Granny was difficult to understand at times, but the least I can do is honor her wishes.” Mom rolled her eyes. “If I don’t, the woman will probably haunt me until the end of days.”

Ignoring the ghost reference, I quizzed, “What is it exactly?”

“Granny called it an Amulet and said it was given to her by her mother.”

“So, me, you and Granny just had to miss out on this particular chain of family legacy?”

“I guess so. Your Great-Granny Collier was a stone’s throw away from being bat-s**t crazy.”

“That’s startin’ to seem like another one of our natures and not nurtures. What was she like?”

“I guess you could say that she spaced out a lot.” Mom went somewhere mentally, trying to picture Great-Granny Collier, I guess. “She always talked about the past and future, not really about the present. She was always around, but never there.” Mom went diving into another cardboard box. “Here.” She handed me an elegant picture frame that held a black and white photo of woman wearing a vacant expression. “Take this picture of Granny Collier so that Angela will always know who it came from.”

For the first time, in a long time, I was able to appreciate mom’s ridiculous hoarding habit. I’ve always had an affinity for family heirlooms and this was perfect.

“Do you mind if we go ahead and get on the road? I haven’t been sleeping too good lately and I don’t want to be the ultimate party-pooper on you.”

I placed the velvet box and photo on her kitchen counter top so that I wouldn’t forget it later because mom wanted to drive her car since we drove “all the way up here in that Land Yacht”.

Fine by me. I fell into my narcoleptic coma immediately after I asked her what stores she had in mind. Her voice faded quickly as she answered my question.  

The creepy wanna-be Johnny Cash remained faceless and he wasn’t holding Angela this time. Probably because he knew that I would chop his balls off and hang them around my neck like a cheap strand of Mardi Gras beads, even in my dreams, if he even dared to touch her again. What he didn’t know is that I would bedazzle those suckers so that they shined prettier than a new car so that the entire world would know the consequences of messing with my daughter.

I noticed this time that the bastard wasn’t as tall as Jack. He was still sickly thin and the only visible part of his skin was his freakishly pale cryptic hands.

Mom ran over a speed bump, waking me up as she was parking her car at Target. Everything inside me sloshed around like jello in a bowl, which was confirmed by Angela’s “Weee” in my head. I didn’t want to think about my dream just in case she had the ability to ready my mind too.

“Mom, why are we here? I can go to Target any day of the week.” Yeah, I complained. You would too if you woke up in car trying not to puke.

“Duh! Baby stuff.”

Angela didn’t seem to care what we were talking about. She just seemed to want more of the sloshy feeling again. “Okay, but we need furniture more than we need more diapers, wipes, or clothing.”

“Yes, and I’m sure you’ll love the next store. It’s a sweet little shop over in Spring Hill.” Her giddiness returned. “But, while I was trying to focus on something other than your snoring, I remembered that I need to pick some things up for the house while we’re in town.”

“Greeeat. What’s it called, Snobs R’ Us?”

“Don’t be rude, Audra.” Mom chastising me sucks just as bad as an adult as it did when I was a child. “This store has been around for a long time and they have very classic and sturdy baby furniture.”

“Ten-Four Big Momma.” Mom hated when I said that. She’s always thought I was calling her fat. She really wouldn’t like it if I said, ‘Yes Drill Seargent!’.

She actually stayed on task in Target, but still wanted to look at everything three times. I barely escaped after thirty minutes with a snack and a nightgown and robe set for me to wear in the hospital. Mom didn’t buy anything, which means that she either forgot what she needed or she was lying her ass off to get me into the store.

When we walked into ‘The Baby’s Room’, everything smelled stiff and looked crisp. Amazingly beautiful and uptight.

A lady approached us with the usual, “Are y’all looking for something in particular?”

“Yes,” I blurted out before mom could take over. I was ready to get back to my solitude. I was in no mood to socialize today. “We need furniture and bedding set.”

The woman actually stared at my stomach and said, “Of course. Have you decided on a theme or style?”

“Not really. We live on Fowl River and I’m more of a comfy-casual type person.”

The woman actually looked me up and down, clearly judging me on my appearance of jeans and t-shirt. “I see.” I had a brief day-dream of picking up the gigantic planter behind my mother Hulk-style and placing it over the woman’s head like a small trash bin, spinning her around, and shoving her off back toward the front desk. “Colors?”

“We’re expecting a girl,” I began.

“My name is Angela.” I need to talk with Jack soon about her potential abilities.

I took a moment to think. If I had the typical three months to plan this out, what would the nursery look like? “We haven’t painted the room yet, but my house is decorated in various shades of white with natural pine floors.”

“Got it.” The woman was now on a mission.

She led us to the back of the store where the most stunning baby bed was on display. An unfamiliar warmth radiated throughout my body, causing a tickling sensation to run down Angela’s spine. It was by far, the most beautiful piece of furniture I’ve ever laid eyes on. This woman was good. She may be snobby, but she definitely knew what she was doing.

Mom was speechless.

Angela swirled around in my stomach. I saw a picture of her jumping and landing on a large pile of pillows, snuggling down and getting comfy, like the bear on the Snuggle fabric softener commercials.

The bed was finished in a creamy antiqued shade of white with delicate looking hand carved intricate roses wrapping around the posts. Its shape created the perfect combination between a crib and a bassinet. The bedding set that was used in the display was creamy and trimmed in feminine ruffles. “I’ll take all of it.” It looked like Moonlight and Magnolias dancing in a meadow.

“Yes ma’am.”

After she confirmed that I wanted the Changing Table and Dresser as well, the woman seemed a little out of sorts when I told her to make sure that she included the teddy bear, plush stuffed mobile with dangling stars, the creamy colored rocker with antique styled cushions, and the coordinating bedside table and lamp.

I felt mom almost pass out when the woman announced my total and she became very intrigued by my emotionless reaction of whipping out a credit card.

I told the woman to have it delivered to our home as soon as possible and we agreed on Monday.

            When we got back on the road, mom blurted out “I knew that Jack had a good construction business going, but I didn’t know it was that good.” Jealousy pulsated from her like a strobe light.

            I cannot stand a nosy person! “I don’t know mom. I stay out of his business.” Honestly, I did. He said he had everything handled in the business and promised me that he would let me know when I could help.

            “Well, the nursery is going to be beautiful.” It must have been the snarky tone in my voice made her change subjects.

            Mom and I actually talked the entire hour drive back to Citronelle. I told her which room would be Angela’s, what the doctor said at my last appointment—because I forgot to call her back, the extreme change in my due date, wrapping up with my reassurance that Jack and I would be fine after Angela’s arrival and that she didn’t need to come stay at our house to help us. She didn’t give up on the idea of moving in with us for a week until I told her that Jack’s parents were coming in town soon and would be staying in the guest room for at least a week.

            Mom always seemed to tense up like a Jack-In-A-Box every time Carl and Cecile’s names were mentioned. I kept waiting for her head to pop, just like a Jack-In-A-Box, with the jealous rage that she tried to conceal.

I have a hard time understanding the root of her jealousy. After all, she lives an hour and a half away and Jack’s parents live on the opposite side of the country.

            I carried my lonely Target bag into the house to consolidate my belongings. I rounded the corner and saw only the photo of Great-Granny Collier on mom’s kitchen counter. Jack must have put it up in the car for me already. I wonder why he didn’t take the picture too.