Synopsis:
Chloe Valcourt drifts between two worlds: the dark reality of her domineering mother and feeble father and the vivid fantasy of her imagination. With her condition comes the harsh observation of doctors who intend to cure her of it. But a chance encounter with a handsome and vaguely familiar young man in her dream world hints at the possibility of hidden truths—and a life she can’t remember. As her drifts become a greater escape from the cruelty of the real world, Chloe finds herself lost between what is real and what is imagined, questioning her very existence. Can she remain in the lush new imagined landscape to find happiness in a realm of her own invention? Is she doomed to return to the harsh reality of the outside world forever? Or will she become trapped somewhere between the two…unable to return to either?
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Excerpt:
“Yes. I am. Here we are.” With that, he ends the conversation.
We pull into a grassy parking lot, and my eyes become lost in the glow of thousands of beautiful lights.
“What is this place?” I grin with excitement.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never been to a carnival before?” He looks disappointed for me.
Another explanation of my home imprisonment is coming. “Nope. Never.”
“May I be your first, then?” He pauses and winks “to escort you to a carnival, that is.”
Oh my…
“I would love that.” I don’t know how I managed to respond.
He hops out of the car and walks to my door, opening it to help me out. He wraps his long strong fingers around my hand and pulls me toward the lights.
As we enter into all of the excitement, I’m entranced by the smells of delicious foods and the sounds of excited people. I try to take everything in as he pulls me through the crowd toward a long line of people.
The whole experience is thrilling.
“What’s the line for?” I ask, standing on my toes to see over everyone’s heads.
“You’ll see,” he says, gripping his arm around my hips.
There are only two people in front of us now, and I can see the people in front of them walking up on a metal platform. It’s our turn, and a large man with a barbell mustache escorts us onto a cart.
I glance up to the mechanism that looks like a mobile hanging from the sky. A bar lowers over our lap and we pop up off the ground as we begin swinging into midair. We glide into the sky with grace, and I’m overcome with an unexpected joy as the city of San Diego unfolds before us.
I grip my hands around the lap bar, holding on tight. “Oh my goodness. This is the most amazing view I’ve ever seen.” I laugh nervously.
“Yes,” he says, looking me straight on. “The view is breathtaking.”
I blush. “How have I never been on one of these things?” Then I remember: because I have the mother from hell. I can’t imagine what else I’ve missed out on in my lifetime. All I want to do is take in every little detail of this view. “This is amazing, Alex.”
“Not as amazing as you,” he whispers as he peels my hand away from the bar and places it between his.
He’s staring at me again, and just like the other night, I can’t seem to get myself to look over at him. I feel like a coward, but I know what will happen, and my nerves are too tangled to allow a moment like that to happen yet. I want to look at him, and I want to know what will happen next, but there’s an apprehension like a magnet holding me in place.
He gives me a soft kiss on the cheek and places his arm around me, pulling my head in to lean on his shoulder.
Our cart descends toward the bottom, and I know that the ride is almost over. I could sit at the top of the world like this forever. “I love how it makes you feel like you’re floating in the sky.”
“With you, I’m always floating in the sky,” he says, placing a kiss on my temple.
His words take my words away. I’m speechless and wanting to fill the vacant sounds with his breath on my breath. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and guides me back to grass. “Since this is a night of firsts, there’s something else you need to try,” he tells me, as he leads us over to a food stand. “What would you say is the most indulgent thing you’ve ever eaten?”
The aroma makes my stomach growl, and warns me of my growing hunger. “Turkey bacon is as wild as it gets in our house.” I offer a humiliated grin.
He shakes his head. “Chloe,” he says, tugging my arm to stop me. “What happened to you over the past twelve years?” His eyes are begging for information. “Please tell me.”
I place my hands over my eyes, searching for whatever bravery remains within my soul. I hate having to admit this. I remove my hands and clench my fists against my thighs. “Let’s just say that my condition ruined my mother’s life. And I will forever pay the consequence for that.” Bitterness pinches my throat from the pain I’m working so hard to suppress. “Can we just enjoy the night?” I ask. “I’ll tell you all about it another time. I promise.”
He runs his hands up and down my arms, filling them with warmth and calmness. “I’m sorry.” He lowers his chin, but lifts his eyes. “Let’s focus on your eating habits,” he says with a mischievous smirk as he walks us up to the window to place his order.
“What are we having?” I ask. I’m trying to see over his shoulder to the menu.
He smiles at the vendor. “We’ll have a candied apple, cotton candy, kettle corn, and a funnel cake.”
The vendor’s eyebrows squish together as he looks around to see if there are more of us.
“We can’t be the only ones to order everything on the menu, can we?” Alex asks. I laugh to myself.
The vendor hands Alex everything all at once. He passes me the candied apple first. “This is our dinner tonight,” he says, handing me a napkin. “I hope you don’t mind.” He smiles. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”
I take a bite. My eyes feel as if they’re going roll into the back of my head. Drool pools up in the side of my cheeks as all of my taste buds pinch and swell. “I can’t believe what I’ve been missing out on.” I try to speak through my sticky mess of a mouth.
“Wait until you try this,” he says, eagerness glistening in his eyes. He hands me a handful of pink fluff.
“How do I eat this?” I raise my eyebrows. “And what is it, anyway? Dryer lint?”
“It’s the best dryer lint you’ll ever taste.” He winks and nudges my hand closer to my face. “Just put it in your mouth. Half of the treat is what happens when it touches your tongue.”
I lay it on my tongue and feel a flash of mild fireworks crackling on the surface of my taste buds. It disintegrates into crystallized pieces of strawberry-flavored sugar. My tongue screams for more. I’ve tasted bliss for the first time, and I can’t go back to turkey bacon again.
I look up at Alex, waiting for the next treat. I see the pity in his eyes. He’s looking at me as if I were an abandoned starving child who’s getting food for the first time. I wasn’t abandoned or starved, but I’ve been unloved, kept as a hostage, and mistreated.
I’ve missed my entire childhood.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s embarrassing.” I sulk and turn my head away from him.
He places his fingers under my chin and turns me back to face him. “I just don’t understand how anyone could be deprived of these simple things,” he says.
I shrug. “Not everyone has a Celia in their life.”
His eyes graze over my nose as they lower to my mouth, and I’m now realizing that I might pass out before he gets a chance to do anything. My gut is doing summersaults, and I don’t know whether to turn away or fall into him. I want this to happen, and I want to feel his lips on mine. I close my eyes out of apprehension and wait for his next move. I probably look like a fool.
Seconds pass but they feel like minutes, and my heart is pulsating through every inch of my body. Is he staring at me? Is he waiting for me to do something? Is he laughing at me? I can’t open my eyes. I don’t want to see the incoming scene. I just want it to happen.
Just as my nerves reach the brink of disaster, his thumb slides over the corner of my lips. I open my eyes to a sweet smile.
“Sugar.” I got it, don’t worry,” he says as his grin widens, reminding me of his hidden dimples.
It was only his thumb against my lips.
My feelings erupt into a puddle of mush. I feel as if I was standing at the edge of a cliff waiting to dive off, but instead I was pulled back to safety. Maybe he doesn’t want to kiss me. Maybe he feels too sorry for me now.
“Chloe, are you okay?” he asks, his mood deflating. “You don’t look right.”
“I’m fine. Why?” I ask.
His arms fall around my shoulders, nudging me to start walking. “I think we need to get going.” He says it urgently.
I pull away from him. “Really. I’m fine,” I say again.
I don’t want this night to end. But he takes my arm within his grip and tugs me down the grassy parking lot back to his car.
He keeps the gas pedal pressed to the floor. The ride reminds me of the one I had with my mother when she was running away from that man the other day.
I place my hands on the dashboard for support and look over to him. “Alex, what’s the rush?” I’m starting to panic.
He glances down to the speedometer and then looks back to the road. “I just think we need to make sure you’re okay. Now will be better than later for that.” There’s still urgency in his voice.
“How are we going to do that?” I ask, feeling a panic rise within me.
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Just hang tight. Okay?”
Our quick car ride leads us right to his long, spiraling driveway. He pulls the nose of the car just a few inches away from one of their three garage doors.
He races around to my door and lifts me up, cradling me in his arms, and runs us both inside. I’m not sure why he thinks I can’t walk all of the sudden. This is getting a little out of hand. I feel fine.
He yanks on the doorknob and kicks the door open. “Mom?” he yells from the main entryway.
I’m fully unsettled now. Celia runs downstairs as fast as her feet will carry her. She cups her hand over her mouth when she sees me.
“What is going on? What are you looking at?” My breath comes in short bursts.
Celia takes my hand and leads me to their full-length mirror. It looks as if all of the blood has been drained from my body, accentuating hundreds of green and blue veins on my forehead. My skin is ghostly white.
I run my fingers up the sides of my cheeks, tracing the lines. “What’s happening?” I plead for an answer. “Please…tell me.”
“You need to take her, Alex, now,” Celia stresses.
“Take me where? Alex, where are we going?” I’m begging.
Neither of them will answer me.
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About the Author:
Shari J. Ryan hails from Central Massachusetts where she lives with her hubby and two lively little boys. Writing has become Shari’s great escape from the real world over the past few years. After a bout of postpartum depression with her first child, Shari was determined to occupy her brain enough to eliminate some of the blue moments in life. When she found writing to help as a newfound therapy, she started her first book. Her books brought her out of postpartum depression and helped her overcome it when her second son was born. Shari likes to think writing saves her mind. She even used one of the characters in the book (the main character’s protagonist mother), to veer away from the type of person she refuses to become. Shari has two happy little boys and the Schasm series to show for her unorthodox therapeutic method.
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