January 11
Gwen noticed that I hadn't been eating. She took me by the arm and propelled me to the hotel restaurant, where she ordered club sandwiches and fries. She meant well, but that was hardly the type of meal that appealed to me. I was having a rough time looking at the overloaded plates. I felt nauseated. That wasn't a good sign. I had to resist, but the familiar voice inside my head sprung to life once again.
"You have to fight this, Kat," Gwen was telling me. "I don't understand... You were doing so well. But all of sudden, you've turned inward."
I took a deep breath and reached for a French fry. I chewed it slowly, painfully. The fry made it down. Then another. I closed my eyes and felt the thick, grainy texture. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to be anywhere. I thought of the phone messages Paul had left for me. At least three of them. I couldn't go back there either. I wasn't ready to face him again, yet the thought of losing him terrified me.
"I'm fine," I said unconvincingly. Gwen didn't know about my tumultuous relationship with Paul. And I didn't feel like explaining.
"Kat, what exactly is going on?" Gwen's eyes were flashing. "Our exhibit is about to open, and you're heading into some kind of crisis? The purpose of this isn't to pressure you... Please tell me if that's the problem!"
"I've been having disturbing dreams," I blurted out. That wasn't the whole truth, because I still wasn't 100 percent convinced that my encounters with Destiny weren't real.
"It's more than that," she said. "I can tell."
She leaned forward and studied me with intense eyes. I wished I could disappear. I knew Gwen wouldn't let me off the hook until I spilled at least one secret.
"A strange woman has come to my door twice in the middle of the night," I whispered. "I don't know why. I don't understand what she wants from me... or if she wants anything at all. I followed her once, to this amazing party... and then, somehow, I ended up back in my bed. Don't ask me how. So what do you think of this? Reality or fantasy?"
Gwen raised her eyebrows and settled back in her chair.
"Only you can answer that question, Kat."
"You think I've got a screw loose, don't you?"
"No." Gwen took a sip of her diet Coke and gazed into the distance. She was analyzing the situation but remained completely poker faced. I wanted her to say something, to offer me some advice or guidance.
"What would you do?" I asked desperately.
"I would see if she returns."
"You think she's real, then? You actually believe this craziness?"
"Kat, there are some things in life that we have to deal with on our own. You're ready to do so. You are recovering. Only these past couple of days have weakened your spirit. You can't let that happen."
I gazed down at my plate and weakly attempted to chew on a corner of bread and overcooked bacon. Many months had passed since my last breakdown, but it was a continuous battle. For the moment, though, I maintained control. I ate a quarter of the sandwich and four fries. It took me forever to stuff all of this unwelcome food down my throat. But I succeeded. I refused to vomit. I felt disgusting, but I was making progress. This would be my twelfth week of what most would consider "normal" behavior.
I wondered if Gwen knew more about Destiny than she was willing to admit. I pushed her on the subject, but she wouldn't budge. Her eyes were unreadable. I could already tell that Gwen was used to having the upper hand in relationships, and I would be silly if I thought I could decipher what was going on in her mind.
She was smiling at me and telling me to meet her in the gallery that evening at 6 p.m. to prepare for the opening. I felt my heartbeat quicken. Until that moment, my nightly experiences nearly pushed the excitement of the art exhibit out of my mind. Everything was happening so quickly. Too quickly. I was nervous, and at the same time eager to launch this show. Maybe it was what I needed to pull me away from thoughts of Destiny.
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