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Diaphanous dreams weave themselves around her like a lover's heart. Love me, love me not. Love me. Delia wove in and out of sleep, unwilling to let go. The nightmare reality would never erase this. This nightly adventure. She sighed and finally relinquished to the oncoming day. Day. All non-dreaming moments had become a nightmare since he vanished into the house.
The dream came as a release. Deliah didn't know that joy was still a possibility for her. But the dream made it so. She feared its end. Because with its end she must die again. Again and again she had died over the last ten years. Without the dream there was no meaning and therefore no life and therefore the end of her fragmented self. The morning was a struggle. Delia felt scalded and broken as she sat up in bed. Memories of the previous days flooded her. Corinne. She wondered if the girl was up yet.
She scratched at her eyes. The itching was familiar. Then she saw the reason. Before screaming, she remembered her conversation with Corinne. The cat. She had to rescue the boy. Michael. And then she screamed.
Hasty footsteps were followed by Corinne's anxious, white face.
"What? Oh Delia. Are you okay?"
The girl picked up the cat. Delia crumbled onto the bed and began crying, squeezing tears from her already badly swollen eyes. Delia felt the weight of the girl on the bed with her.
"Take it away Corinne, please," she sobbed. "I'm sorry. Michael. I'm so sorry."
Corinne stroked her back. It felt soothing.
"It's alright, Delia. The cat is gone. Please don't worry. I'll find your boy for you."
Corinne left her to make some tea. Delia climbed back into bed. Perhaps it was better to die. Dream and then die. Yes. But tea first. Corinne brought the tea.
"I don't think you should do it," Delia told her.
"I think I have to," Corinne replied. "There is no choice, Delia. It's either this or return to my life. At the moment my best option is not life.
Delia smiled. She knew the feeling.
They sipped their tea in silence for a while. The day outside was bright and sunny. Birds twittered in the trees.
"I think you should stay in bed today, Delia. Everything has been a bit much for you. Let me take care of things. You relax. I know what I must do."
Before Delia could stop her, Corinne had left with the tea cups. Delia felt unbelievably tired and lethargic. Her swollen eyelids were beginning to recover a bit, and it didn't itch so much anymore.
"Michael," she sighed. "Forgive me." She fell asleep and began dreaming.
The dream welcomed her. It comforted and soothed. Her body was enveloped in the warm mist all around her. Everything was white and beautiful. Delia thought for a moment that this was death. She was relieved. She had been afraid that death would be nothing, or that it would be hell. This was something she could live with.
The mist was beginning to clear and there was a shape. A black shape. No. The dream was turning into a nightmare. No. Please. Yes. Delia rose her hands to her face in the anticipated need to scratch. But it didn't come. Her face was fine. Her eyes were fine. There was a cat - the big black one, and she was fine. She needed to find Corinne. She was able to help now. Corinne appeared. Her face was a few inches from Delia's.
"Corinne!"
"I know," said Corinne. "Let's go."
The mist cleared some more to reveal the dark house. Delia followed the cat with Corinne.
"The cat shows the way," said Corinne.
"Yes," said Delia.
The room that was Michael's was still bright and blue. The trap door was open and the feline sprang gently inside. The women followed. Everything was as Delia remembered. It was strangely comforting. Like coming home. The cold dampness settled on Delia's skin like an old friend. Hello, she thought. My friends. She smiled and felt peace for the first time in a decade.
They heard voices. Whispering. Giggling.
"Michael?" Delia's voice exploded through the cavernous walls.
Silence. More whispering. Then.
"Aunty Del?"
Delia fell to her knees. The child appeared, seeming to glow from within. He should have been a young man by now, but he was still only a boy. So young. No child should lose his parents at such a young age. Michael came closer.
"Aunty Del, it is alright."
"I'm sorry, Michael," Delia sobbed. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have hurt you."
The boy put his arms around the woman's neck.
"It is okay, I know now. Stella explained everything."
Michael stepped back and turned around. A young woman had appeared behind him.
"I am Stella. Michael is my boy now." She looked defiantly at the intruders.
"You can't keep him here," said Corinne.
"It is alright," said Michael, his dark eyes penetrating hers. "I want to stay. Stella is my mother."
"But..."
Delia silenced Corinne's protest with a touch on her arm.
"Corinne, this is Michael's home now. He is at peace."
"Are you sure?"
"I am sure," said Delia.
"We are sure," said Stella and Michael.
"Mew," said Meww.
There was thunder in one of the deeper chambers.
"He is coming," said Stella.
"Yes," said Michael.
The man with the long white hair came through a dark doorway. Sophisticated and suave as ever, he greeted everyone.
"Hello."
He smiled at Corinne.
"I am happy to see you, my dear," he told her.
Something about the way Corinne smiled worried Delia.
"Corinne?"
Corinne slowly approached Deville.
"What are you doing?" she asked him.
"I am building my home. My family. I have waited so long for the right people. The boy. His mother. You, the sister."
He turned to Delia.
"And you, the wife."
Delia stepped back. The dream was turning into a nightmare again.
"No."
Deville looked hurt.
"Please," he said. "I've waited so long for you."
Delia turned, but could not run. Her desperation was threatening to become panic.
"No more allergies, Delia. Please."
Corinne stepped between the older woman and the man.
"You cannot keep her against her will," she said softly. "You couldn't keep any of the others against their will. Delia is a dream, Stella is a ghost. I am real. Take me. I'll be the wife."
Prince gently took a strand of Corinne's hair between his fingers. He let it slip slowly through his fingers. He took a deep breath and sighed.
"Ah, such life."
"I will stay," said Corinne. "My life is yours. I want this."
"No," said Delia, suddenly desperate. "No Corinne, I cannot let you. Please."
Corinne turned away from Deville. She took Delia's hands.
"It is alright, Delia. This means more to me than you can know. This is what I want. This is meaning. I am needed here. I am wanted."
Michael left Stella's side to join the two women.
"Aunty Del, it is alright. We all want to be here. Thank you for everything. I love you for it. It is time to live now. It is time to leave."
The boy went back to Stella and they became transparent and vanished. Corinne released Delia's hands and joined Deville with the cat. Delia had to admit that the young woman made a good match for the young-old man. They followed Stella and Michael, and Delia was left alone in the darkness.
She opened her eyes. It was morning. She couldn't have slept too long. Delia had never felt so alive before. She smiled. It was time to get back to work. She'd phone her company and see if they had any manuscripts to edit. But coffee first. When she got up, Delia glanced at the window. Something felt strange, missing. The morning was sunny. The birds made her think of something.
Across the street. There was nothing. Hadn't there been something? She couldn't remember. It didn't seem to matter.
Coffee, then some phone calls. A quick glance in the mirror told Delia that it was time for a hair appointment. She felt young. She was happy and grateful. Her heart was as open as the space across the street.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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