Blurred Lines

CHAPTER 1: UNCERTAINTIES

The dreams are always the same. I'm immersed in darkness, surrounded by voices. I see myself floating within the inky blackness, trying to make my way toward a light shining in the distance. When I reach it, I find myself standing in front of a mirror. The face staring back at me, however, isn't my own.

A young man smiles at me. His brown hair is a tad long and curls around the collar of the blue shirt he's wearing. The shirt, to my surprise, resembles the same one I'm dressed in. His blue-gray eyes are slightly dull, like he's sad about something. What, I'm not sure.

He raises a hand in my direction.

My fingers press against the glass, trying to clasp the young man's hand. The mirror, a thick barrier between him and me, prevents us from ever making contact.

The sound of twig cracking behind me draws my attention. I glance over my shoulder, but there's nothing there. When I look back at the mirror, the young man is gone, his beautiful visage now replaced with my own face.

I scream and bolt into a sitting position, my heart pounding hard inside my chest. The dream's meaning eludes me. It comes to me every night, never once pushing me toward what it is I need to know.

Every time I wake, I find myself coated in sweat, tangled deep within my blankets. Josh is usually here to quell the fear the dreams cause. This time, however, I'm alone in my bed.

Josh is in Singapore securing a deal with Trace Robotics. Though he wanted me to go with him, I declined. I can't leave the kindergarten class I've been assigned to teach at Arbor Hill Elementary School. I've been waiting for this position for years. The fact that my request to teach has finally been approved prevents me from joining the man I've given my heart to. Nevertheless, I'll make it up to Josh once he returns to Connecticut.

I take a deep breath to steady myself and shove the drenched sheets aside. Sliding my legs to the edge of the bed, I stand and drop back down. The wave of vertigo is so strong that nausea rears its ugly head.

Without taking the time to overcome it, I dart into the adjacent bathroom and let loose the steady stream of vomit that rises to my lips. I retch again and again, emptying my stomach completely. Briefly, I wonder if, per chance, I'm pregnant. That can't be possible, though, since the doctors have clearly told me that I'm sterile. I could never have a baby even if I wanted to.

The vomiting subsides. I slump to the floor, leaning my head against the toilet's grimy edge. It means I'll have to take a much-needed bath, but I don't care.

This episode of vertigo and vomiting has drained me. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. Though I've medication for the vertigo and nausea that I can take, it does nothing for me. Day in, day out, the episodes continue. No matter what the doctors do, they can't stop them. Honestly, I don't think they ever will.

Once I feel strong enough to stand, I move toward the shower and turn the taps. Testing the water to my liking, I step into the cubicle and sigh with contentment. The warm water always seems to comfort me.

I hate the fact that my body is so weak, at times. The doctors aren't sure why I succumb to these episodes so much. Personally, I think they're lying to me. They do know. The doctors just refuse to tell me. Someday, though, I'll force the truth out of them, if it's the last thing I do.

Thirty minutes later, I'm dressed and ready for my first day at school. I collect my keys, bag, lunch, and syllabus, and walk out the door. A quick tap on the key fob unlocks the car's doors. With a flick of my hand, I toss everything into the passenger's seat and slide inside.

A high-pitched voice squealing in the distance catches my attention before I can slip the key into the ignition.

"Jenna!" Audrey Stanton cries.

She runs in my direction, her messy blonde bun uncoiling itself by the second. By the time she reaches the car, her hair lies around her shoulders in a disheveled mess.

"Hey, you," I say, sliding the key into place.

"Heading to school?"

"Yup. Got a full day ahead of me."

Audrey rolls her eyes and shakes her head, partially disentangling the mess her hair has become. "I don't know how you can do it. Babysitting noisy tykes all day long would send me straight into an institution."

I sigh and stick my tongue out at her. "Yeah, well, at least the kids are in good hands. Besides, I've been preparing for this all summer."

My best friend smiles and tugs her hair back into a ponytail. "There's that, I suppose. You sure you're up for this?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Audrey leans forward and curls her arms across the open window's edge. "Josh told me you've not been doing well," she says, lowering her voice so that only I can hear her every word.

"I'm fine. Just those crazy dreams again, that's all."

Her pale pink lips curl into the perfect O. "That sucks. You've told someone about it?"

"Just Josh. And you."

"I meant—"

I hold up a hand to silence her. "Yeah, I know what you meant. The answer is no. I don't need a shrink, Audrey. My mind's just playing tricks on me, is all."

A slight frown spreads across her brow. "But it's always the same dream."

"I know. It's one of my own making, though. Nothing to worry about," I say, shrugging my shoulders in the hopes of deflecting what she intends to say next.

Audrey opens her mouth, but no words come out. Instead, she nods and raps her knuckles across the smooth metal beneath her hand.

"You're gonna be late. If you need to talk, I'm always here for you."

I return her nod and turn the key. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

The engine purrs to life.

"You better. See you this afternoon?"

"You bet," I say, and shift the gears into reverse.

"Be careful!" she cries, watching me back out of the driveway.

With a perfunctory wave, I turn the car around and head down the street. I do my best to shove Audrey's words to the back of my mind. To my dismay, the worry roiling within me intensifies.

What if she's right? Could there be something wrong with me?

I take a deep breath, hoping it'll settle my frazzled nerves. No matter what I do, something nips at the back of my mind. For some strange reason, I can't seem to draw out the niggling thought. Distracted, I don't see the truck that crosses my path until it's too late. The sound of breaking bones and glass are the last things I hear as the vehicle's crash into one another.