Vision of Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page A

him so he could sit at
the dining room table. Then I placed two sheets of paper in front
of him. As his eyes scanned the pages, I hit play on my
iPod.
    The opening percussion filled the room and
Jerry looked at me with surprise. He recognized the tune
immediately.
    “All right,” I said. “Together now.” I pointed
to the lyrics on the first page.
    Jerry and I cleared out throats. And together
we sang, “Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl.”
    After two run throughs, Jerry no longer needed
to look at the lyrics. The two of us bounced around, singing the
same song for an hour.
    Finally, he was done.
    “Thanks, Bristol,” He said. “I just couldn’t
move on until I did that.”
    With that, he was gone.
    I went to bed, on a Friday night, on my
birthday, at a quarter to ten. It took me twenty minutes to conk
out, however. I just couldn’t get that song out of my
head.
     
    * * * *
     
    I said goodbye to Mary and made my way home.
She was one of the ghosts who I was going to remember in a fond
way. When I got home, I found a note from my mom again.
     
    Bristol,
     
    Next Saturday, meet your father and
I at that trattoria you like for lunch. Get a table
outside.
     
    Mom
     
    Taking the note from the fridge, I knew they
were planning on telling me of their plans for divorce. I didn’t
know if I should fight them or not. Clearly, they didn’t love each
other anymore. I wasn’t even sure they loved me.
    I went to bed, hoping I would dream something
that would help.
     
    * * * *
     
    That night I work in a sweat. I could still
feel his hands on me. I think I actually called out, for the dream
had been so vivid. It’s getting closer.
    Of course, nobody came in to see in I was all
right. I might be alone in the apartment, but I might not be.
Either way, nobody came.
    I knew I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep yet,
so I decided to try something. I grabbed my laptop and turned it
on.
     
    Journal of Bristol
Blackburn
     
    Entry one.
     
    It was him again. The boy I’ve been
dreaming of since I was six years old. I’ve been having a lot of
dreams with him lately. Almost like a greatest hits. Him kissing
me. His hands touching me. Us sitting under a pretty weeping willow
tree and talking for hours. He’ll be my first. I’ve never even
kissed a guy because I felt like it was cheating on this guy who
I’ve never met and yet I know every inch of his body.
Intimately.
     
    So lasts night’s dream wasn’t
anything new. I’ve had it before. It was, in fact, the first dream
I’d ever had of him. That angel’s face with the devil’s grin.
Normally he looks at me like I’m his entire world, but in this one,
his eyes are filled with malice and rage. His hands are wrapped
around my throat as he slowly kills me.
     
    So yeah, I think it’ll happen any
day now. I’m finally going to meet the literal boy of my dreams.
Then I’ll find out if he’ll be the love of my life, or the end of
it.
     
    And really, I have no idea which
possibility scares the crap out of me more.