Life Of Dreams

Chapter 8

It had been three days since I’d returned home, and no closer to making contact with Trent than that first day.  I had tried everything I could think of, outside of flying to L.A. and physically hunting him down.  That, I knew, would draw too much attention to myself and I didn’t think Trent would appreciate me showing up unannounced.

Each day I went online and hoped somewhere, something would help me get in contact with him.  I was losing weight, not sleeping and my headaches were just as intense, if not worse, as when I had left the hospital. 

But worst of all, it became harder and harder to visualize what Trent and I had had together.  When I tried to picture him in my mind, tried to recapture his touch, his voice, his smell, those details became hazy and out of reach.  I found it hard to remember what we had talked about, what we had eaten, where we had been.  Our affair had become so muddled that the only clear images I had of Trent were those of his characters in the movies.  He had become less of a person and more of just an actor I had admired.

I missed the appointment I had made with Dr. Kragar and the hospital had called me several times.  When I saw their name come up on caller-id I just let it ring, I wasn’t in any mood to talk to them.  The messages left were for me to call them right back, but I just deleted the messages.  The last one, left earlier today, was from Dr. Kragar.  He said he wanted to see me as soon as possible.  He didn’t want to discuss it in a message, but indicated he wanted to do some more tests, as the ones they had taken a few days ago were inconclusive.  His tone was stern and demanding.  I hesitated, but I feared that if I was put back into the hospital, it would take away the time I needed to try to contact Trent.  Everything else can just wait.    

After a frustrating day of internet  searches and returned e-mails I sat down to eat my dinner of soup and sandwich.  I pulled over the morning paper and proceeded to scan the news.  I honestly couldn’t handle all of the murders, robberies and dishonest politicians.  I was looking for something uplifting that would take my mind off of my non-existent personal life.

I turned to the Entertainment and Arts section and started reading about some new art exhibits at a museum downtown and the new movies coming out on Friday.  One columnist focused on things going on around town and any movies or TV shows that were using Dallas as location shots.  And there it was.  This is what I had been searching for these past several days.  There was one small paragraph about Trent and a few of his co-stars coming back to town this coming week to redo a scene that had been ruined.

I was elated.  My headache was all but forgotten as I jotted down some particulars and went over to the computer again.  I didn’t have much to go on, but I could probably piece together possible areas where they might show up from reports of where they had filmed several months ago.  

Looking through past newspaper items, I was able to compile a list of likely buildings and streets they might revisit.  I was feeling very hopeful and much more confident than I had been in days.  On a whim, I went to the local Trent Pindar Fan Club site and was heartened to read that they had been given prior approval to meet with him outside the old Red Courthouse on Monday afternoon.  A short interview would be given to the officers of the club, along with photo-ops and autographs to anyone who would show up.  This had to be something that Trent had arranged; why else would they be meeting at the exact same place we had met?

Finding a way to talk to him there would probably be the safest way to handle it.  I would be just one of dozens of fans who turned out to greet him and request an autograph.  I could then tell him what happened and no one else would be the wiser.  Trent would then know everything was all right and he’d call me as soon as he was free.

Waiting until Monday would be excruciating for me.  This was Saturday, and I had a full day ahead of me where I really couldn’t do much of anything except worry.  Then a depressing thought struck me. 

I got up and headed toward my bathroom.  I closed my eyes, then stepped in front of the mirror.  Starting with my eyes in a narrow slit, I gradually began opening them to assess the damage.

In my appraisal, I still looked a fright.  I hadn’t done anything to myself since coming home, not even taken a tweezers to my brow.  My hair was dirty and my complexion pale, not including the bruises still very evident along the left side of my jaw and cheek.  This is not the image I wanted Trent to see.  Nothing could be done to prepare him for my injuries, but my appearance would have to change, I couldn’t have him see me like this. 

Maybe a day and a half isn’t enough time to get myself totally together, but it would have to do.