Iii Wishes

By Edward Harrison

Jamil, Eric and Alicia were best friends and they as far as they were concerned, they would do anything for each other; even die. However, when Rome unleashes a plot that would forever change their relationships, he also forces them to stand in front of a mirror and question just how strong their commitment to each other really is. They discover that even truth can contain deceit and are forced to fight through an avalanche of secrets that leave them on the verge of tearing each other apart. Truth is only truth if it is absolute and they can do nothing to stop the impact of their secrets as it wreaks havoc on all involved.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456716288

Book preview

Contents

Intro

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

Intro

SOMETIMES, WHEN ONE WAKES UP from a night of dream sleep, one wakes up dazed and confused. One may wake up trying to figure out what is real and what is not. One may lie still trying to gather oneself. Trying to determine where he or she is, or what time it is. Sometimes one may wake up with bits and pieces of dreams that managed to survive the thick, white swirley clouds of confusion that exist in those moments between sleep and consciousness. Those bits and pieces can sometimes help to figure out what the dream was all about. It may take seconds, minutes, even days before the dream begins to come together. However, if one small detail is lost, the dream may never be quite complete.

The dream becomes one of a vast multitude of fragments that fall into that dark, empty, endless space within your sub-conscience. After all, dreams are just fragments that consist of things one may read about, or see on television; things that an active imagination can create; things that one may experience, or see during a daily routine. However, sometimes one may awaken with nothing. Not even a fragment. He or she awakens with just the confusion and frustration of knowing that they just had a dream and they cannot remember one single part of it. One may try for hours, days; even weeks to remember something, only to find confusion and frustration.

Dreams can be a real source of bewilderment and a real source of aggravation. Imagine waking up for real, not able to remember anything. He or she cannot remember where they are, or how they got there. The memory of where one came from or who he or she is has vanished, as if it were a contact lens lost in a swimming pool.

When it is real, and not a dream, the confusion becomes a state of perplexity that ten times exceeds that of a child, looking at a dead fly trapped between the double plate glass of a living room window, wondering how the fly got in there. An adult will know that most likely some lazy, apathetic jerk sealed the dead fly between the glass while constructing the window. A child wouldn’t have the knowledge or information to compute this. An adult without any knowledge of himself, his history or his purpose is very much like a child. Only, an adult could be in a very dangerous situation. An adult in this situation has to face a wide range of confusing emotions and feelings that could test the limits of one’s sanity and can be very dangerous to himself and to others.

Confusion and uncertainty, from time to time, could be accompanied by an element of fear that is the result of not being sure. Not knowing anything or not having one single clue about one’s self could be down right terrifying. It’s the kind of terror that could shut a man down completely, put him in the fetal position and make him feel surrounded by total darkness. It’s too dim to even see his hand in front of his face. It’s as if he is on a cliff or a ledge surrounded by this darkness. He is too afraid to move because if he moves the darkness will swallow him up completely, but he feels that he is okay as long as he stays still. When it is real, that cliff could be the front porch, the bed or wherever one wakes up. One step off that porch could be like walking down a long, dark, unfamiliar alley that only gets darker the farther one walks.

Uncertainty can also lead to frustration and anger. Anger that if left unchecked could grow into a state of rage like that of a pet dog that has been infected with rabies. That dog will slowly lose its mind and become down right deadly. It will reach a state of rage so intense that it will rip the flesh clean off the hand that has fed it since it was a puppy. Like the dog, a man in this state of rage may fall prey to his more primal instincts. The ability to reason may be completely lost. He may view everything or everyone as a threat or as the source of his pain, so survival becomes his driving force.

Physical pain is usually the result of some form of injury or illness. If one drags a hand down the surface of a wooden deck railing, one could experience the sharp painful prick of a splinter, lodged just deep enough beneath your skin to reach your nerves. The pain from a splinter is quick and may only last as long as you leave the splinter, which is why some may chose to allow the splinter to work its way free. Remove the splinter and usually the pain is gone just as quick as it came. Walk through a room with all the lights out and stub the little toe on a piece of furniture. That will probably break the bone and cause pain that singes every nerve in the body. The pain will stop one in their tracks. It will reduce a person to childhood. However, it will heal. It may not heal as quickly as the splinter, but the ability to walk shall not be lost.

Physical pain usually has a source that can be touched, even healed and over a period, the pain will go away. Gunshot wounds, stab wounds, burn wounds are all severely painful. So painful that one could go into a state of shock or succumb to the mind’s natural self-defense mechanism and blackout. However, as long as it is not fatal it will heal. For some injuries the healing process may take weeks, months, even years, but the pain eventually goes away or becomes tolerable. The blackout will suddenly or gradually dissipate.

However, emotional pain is a different type of pain. This pain seems to be pain that is specifically tailored for you. This pain feels as if of all the people on this planet, it wanted you. This pain knows exactly where to touch you and exactly how to hurt. This pain knows that it does not matter that one may know its source because it cannot be reached, like the itch in the middle of a back. It often dangles its source right in front of your face.

Because the source is usually external, one cannot go to the hospital or take two pills to get rid of it. This pain wants to wrap its over-sized hand around your entire body and slowly squeeze all the energy and life out of you, until there is nothing left but a shell of what you once were. A parent leaves the side gate to the baby’s crib in the down position and has to run to answer the phone because it has been ringing a while, and the parent fears that this may be an important call. The phone is cordless so all the parent has to do is grab the phone and return to the crib. It only takes a second, but it also only takes a second for that baby to climb on the gate and fall to the floor, break an arm, or something far worse. The pain and guilt that one feels for being responsible for that child falling out of the crib could last for years. However, to come home and find the person that you have given your life, heart and all of your trust, wearing the sexy under wear that you bought, in your bed, going hard with someone else, is another matter.

That is a vision that one will never be able to get rid of. It is burned into memory like a name scratched in wet concrete. This vision will not fade like the name, but it remains clear as if it just happened. One may remember every detail. He or she remembers the look of pure pleasure on the face of their lover. A look that makes one feel as if they never meant anything to this person. One remembers the sweat, the straining muscles as he gave every inch of himself. One remembers the arch in her back as she gave all unto him that was supposed to be sacred. He or she remembers standing there watching, momentarily crippled while the brain tries to process what it is witnessing. One can remember that quick jump in the heart as he or she realizes that their lover has just hurt them like no other person on the planet could. This pain is as personal as a certified letter, only one does not have to sign it. He or she will receive this letter and they will answer to it.

How a person handles pain depends on the person. A strong person will learn to live with it and move on. This person will have to go through his or her period of suffering. That period when one’s mind is so consumed with what happened to them that one may walk around like half of a person, letting small chunks of life pass right by them. They do not want to do anything and they do not want to see anyone. They are afraid to go out because they may run into that self-centered, insensitive cheater that ruined their life.

This cheater was supposed to be not only their lover but also their friend, which are two of the more personal relationships that exist. In either relationship, one puts part of them self in a box and hands it over to that special person, trusting they will take care of it, only to find that the words, I love you or my boy, were as casually spoken as the word hello. Dealing with the effects of betrayal may take some time and require a long period of suffering and healing.

However, after this period of suffering, the strong person will begin to get on with life. The strong person will have the ability to look at things the way they really are. If one knows that they did everything a person in a relationship should do, how can they be the fool? It is the weaker person that will really suffer.

Whether this person is weaker mentally, emotionally or both, does not matter. This person will suffer. With this person, the pain will be evident. There just is no predicting what this person will do. The pain and suffering could become so powerful that it drives this person into a mental state that is completely irrational, or even become deadly.

The one thing that the strong and the weak have in common is they may never completely heal. For physical pain you can go to the hospital or call a doctor. For emotional pain you can’t do anything but pray. Pray that God will release you, or pray that you black out and never have to remember any of it because pain has a way of creating more pain. Nothing good could come of that. Pray that what is lost, stays lost. Pray for that black out.

1

AS ERIC AWAKENS, HE FINDS himself laying flat on his back. He does not move because he feels so weak. He feels as if his whole, entire body is wrapped in steel and the surface that he is laying on is one big magnet. He wants to lift his hand to the front of his face, but it requires more strength than he has at this moment. He knows that his eyes are open but he cannot see a damn thing.

Am I blind or is it that dark?

He wonders whether he is inside or outside.

Inside or outside where?

He is confused. All mixed up. He starts wondering if he is in a room or somewhere else.

AM I DEAD?

He feels a quick jump in his heart. Then he feels fear start to rise inside his chest like water threatening to overflow a river. He struggles to catch his breath. He feels as if the wrapped steel is especially heavy around his chest. They say that when a person wakes up gasping for air that a witch was riding their back while they were asleep. Nevertheless, Eric is on his back and he is not asleep. His struggle for air definitely comes from sheer fear, or maybe even terror.

He is terrified because he does not know where he is. He does not even know how he ended up in this place.

Is this a place or am I just floating in black space?

He, frantically, wonders if this is how it is when you die.

I have to calm down. I have to think.

He begins to take deep breathes, inhaling as much air as he can and then letting it out slow and steady. He tries to synchronize his mind speed with his breathing. As his thoughts slow, he begins to realize that he can hear himself breathing.

If I’m dead, why would I need to breathe?

He does not know much about heaven and hell, but he figures if he entered either place, he would be in his spirit form and would not need to breathe. Although he finds these thoughts slightly comforting, a quick jump in his heart reminds him of the fear that is still, swollen inside his chest. He starts to think about this fear, as he struggles to gain control. This fear, that makes his heart jump as if it just received a jolt of electricity, is something that he physically feels. He figures, if he is dead he will not be able to feel anything physical.

He begins to physically, focus on his hands and starts moving his fingers, rubbing the surface on which he is laying. Now, he knows that he is not dead because he can actually feel the texture of the floor on which he lay. It feels like fur; like nappy fur. It feels like fake, nappy fur.

CARPET! I’m lying on carpet inside somewhere!

With this revelation, his breathing starts to go completely out on control. He fights, with every ounce of strength he has, to regain a little control over his fear, but he knows he is losing this battle. His eyes start darting around in every direction. He does not realize it, but he is also turning his head all over the place. No matter how hard he tries to see, he only sees darkness; complete and total darkness.

Eric’s fear has taken control of him. It has him paralyzed and too afraid to move. If he can just get a grip on his fear, he might realize that he is lying on the floor of his own basement.

A basement that he practically grew up in, spending countless hours playing as a child and entertaining company as a teen and young adult. If he could, he would remember that it is an old basement inside an old row house in West Philadelphia. Eric was five years old when they first moved into the house. The basement was completely unfinished in those days.

The walls were no more than rock; coated over with cement and painted white. The surfaces of the walls were so rough that one could literally sharpen a pencil on them. This he did several times as a child. The floor was simply a slab of concrete that ran from the front all the way to the rear of the basement. The swirls from the contractor’s trowels were evident throughout the entire basement floor.

If Eric could remember, he would remember how scared he was to go into the basement alone, when he was a child. As a child, his sister used to trick him into watching horror movies, so Eric thought the basement looked like the place Dr. Frankenstein keeps his evil monster, or where Dracula sleeps in the daytime. There was only one window in the entire basement. A piece of plywood replaced the broken glass in the window, so even on bright sunny days; it remained dark and grim down there. There was always an old pipe leaking, causing the basement to have an unpleasant, musky odor with a hint of mildew attached to it. Combine that odor, the physical characteristics of the basement, and the odor of many rats that died from poisoning, and you have what Eric considered, a place for the dead or evil spirits. He would also remember one of the most horrifying moments in his life took place in this very same basement.

When he was a child, Eric was terrified of the darkness. He would not go to bed unless his mother left the light on in his room. She would have to wait until he fell asleep then come in his room to turn the light off. She would pray that he would not wake up in the middle of the night. To make matters worse, Eric’s older sister Sheree, was merciless. Sheree was five years older than Eric was and she really loved him. However, she would use his fear against him whenever he crossed her, or whenever she wanted to have a little fun.

One day, when he was six years old, Eric definitely crossed his sister. His mom was holding a full-scale investigation into the very slow disappearance of her vodka, which she kept in the cabinet above the refrigerator. Sheree had been regularly taking sips from the bottle and putting it back. Eric wondered why it took his mom so long to notice, especially since his sister would sit at the dinner table, practically cross-eyed; giggling at anything anyone said or did. Nonetheless, Eric knew once his mom found out, it was going to be hell to pay for anyone involved, or anyone who knew something and did not tell.

Knowing this, Eric offered very little resistance during the interrogation. In fact, one could say that he was very helpful. He sang like a free-style wrapper, trying his best to win a record deal. He told about the vodka and things that had nothing to do with the vodka. His mother left the session very well informed and during her whipping, Sheree produced a siren like sound that could have only been detectable to dogs. However, Eric had no idea that the vengeance his sister had in mind would scar him forever.

If he could remember correctly, Eric would recall looking for one of his favorite toy racecars. Sheree told him that it was in the basement, and that she accidentally picked it up with the dirty clothes. She also told him that she would stand watch at the top of the stairs while he went down to get his car. What she did not tell him was that as soon as he got all the way down the stairs to where the dirty clothes were, she was going to turn off the lights and close the door. To get to the dirty clothes, Eric had to make a right turn at the bottom of the stairs to go into the middle part of the basement. They kept all the dirty clothes there because there was not much room in the area with the washer and dryer.

Eric went down the steps, turned right and when his sister turned off the lights, he jumped. He had been drinking a glass of milk and had it with him when he went into basement. When he jumped he spilled most of the milk on the front of his shirt. The sudden complete darkness, instantly, stole his voice from him. He could not make a sound. He just slammed his back against the wall and froze. In his mind, he was screaming for Sheree to turn on the lights and open the door, but not one sound came from his mouth. Sheree expected him to scream, and when he did not, she decided to let him find his way out on his own. However, she had underestimated his fear.

While he stood there shaking, it did not take long for his mental manifestations to become reality. He felt something pulling on his pants, but he was too terrified to move. The pulling soon became climbing and before he knew what was going on, the climbing seemed to be all over his legs.

Rats love milk. He had milk all over his shirt and rats climbing up his body. He felt them all over him. He felt a tickling sensation on his chin, but it happened to come from the whiskers of a rat that managed to reach the middle of is chest. The rat’s nose touched Eric’s lips as it sniffed the milk on his breath, which caused his mind to spin. However, before he passed out, he saw the lights come on and then he heard a scream.

This basement, in which Eric lay, is the same place where he experienced that traumatic moment in his life, and the reason he is laying there now is probably just as traumatic. It took him years to remember the rats. It took years for him to remember his sister screaming when she turned on the lights, but he never quite remembered everything. He never remembered the rats actually climbing all over him. He just remembered his sister’s scream and then seeing his best friend, Jamil, who had just come over to see if Eric could come outside, stomping on a rat with all the weight his two feet could carry.

However, the complete memory of that day is like dropping the back of an earring in the grass; it is not visible, but it is still there. Now, he does not know where he is. All he knows is that he is lying on a carpet somewhere and that he had better get a grip or he is going to pass out.

The thought of passing out in a strange place terrifies him. He closes his eyes and starts to take deep breaths again. He can feel beads of sweat as they roll off his forehead, down the sides of his face and around his ears. Once again, the slow breathing does offer him some relief. He decides that the best thing to do is to think. When he re-opens his eyes, it is still too dark to see anything. He starts listening, trying to hear anything that will give him a clue to his whereabouts.

He can hear a whooshing sound; the sound of air being pushed through a vent or something. The sound starts with a click and stops with the same click, but the sounds are familiar to him. He reasons that it sounds like a heater or air conditioning unit. Then he notices the sound of water dripping whenever the heater or air conditioner stops blowing. He also notices the faint smell of mildew. The smell seems mixed with a sweet aroma that smells like cherries or strawberries. He does not know that the sweet smell comes from the plug-in air fresheners that he placed throughout the basement. However, the sounds and the aromas give him a feeling of familiarity.

Have I been here before?

This feeling of familiarity seems to slightly, energize him and he does not realize that he is holding his head up, looking around into the darkness. He reasons that if he is inside, there must be a light somewhere. Maybe there is a switch or a lamp somewhere.

I have to get up!

He knows that if he is going to figure out what is going on, he cannot just lay there. He then realizes that he is already holding his head up. He slowly slides his hands back in a position that will allow him to push himself up into a seated position. However, he sits up too quickly and has to deal with a head spinning feeling the equivalent of a merry-go-round, spinning backwards, out of control. He slides his feet back so that his knees lift up enough for him to cross his forearms over them and rest his head on top of his arms. His breathing, once again, begins to get out of control. In addition, Eric experiences a wave of nausea that is now rolling around in his stomach.

It is only a matter of seconds before he begins to gag and retch so hard, it feels as if his entire stomach is threatening to come out of his mouth. What makes it so much worse is they are dry heaves and not one drop of vomit enters his mouth. The heaves are so violent; he thinks that he feels a blood vessel pop in his eye.

If I keep this up, I will die for sure!

He cannot catch his breath and he feels that one or two more heaves like this and it is all over for him. Desperate for some form of relief, he does not even realize he has scrambled to his feet. Bent over with his hands on his knees, he thinks, I am on my feet. Good. I have to stand up straight and breathe! With this in mind, he slowly starts to straighten up.

Deep breathing once again seems to be effective. The gagging and the retching seem to be subsiding, but he is sweating like a boxer that just finished taking a twelve round whipping. He is unsteady on his feet and he still feels very weak. His balance is way off, and he is rocking back and forth, so when he lifts his head, it is no wonder that he starts falling backwards. Completely out of control, he frantically backpedals, trying to regain his balance and stop what definitely was going to be a very hard crash. What terrifies him the most is that he has no idea what he is going to hit. As soon as that thought is complete, he slams, back first, into what has to be a wall. He is surprised, but he is not surprised that he hit a wall. He is surprised that it does not hurt as much as he thought it would. He had braced himself for the corner of a table or a brick wall. Instead, the wall seemed to give almost as easy as cardboard before it stopped his backward momentum. In fact, the collision was almost painless. However, he does feel a sharp pain in the middle of his upper back. It feels as if he had landed on something that is protruding from the wall. He turns to face the wall and starts rubbing his hands up and down its surface.

He is trying to find what poked him in his back. The wall is full of little grooves, as one might find in a piece of wood. The sound of his hand rubbing against the surface produces a hollow sound as if the wall is very thin. In fact, he feels the wall give whenever he pushes in, or rests any of his weight against it. As he ponders his findings, he continues to rub the wall with both hands. He does not notice how calm he is because, in fact, he is concentrating, determined to find out what is going on. His breathing has returned to normal and the nausea is completely gone. However, his head still hurts like hell. He feels as if air is rushing into to his forehead at a rate that would blow out a truck tire. He does not realize that he is frowning so hard that his eyebrows are almost touching. Despite his pain, he realizes that his right hand has come across what feels like a light switch.

This must be what stuck me in the back when I fell.

Instead of just flicking the switch, he stands there with his hand on it. His fear starts to surface again.

What if someone put me here? They might see the light! DAMN! They might be here with me!

His heart jumps into his throat with the thought that he may not be alone in this darkness. Someone may be sitting or standing here watching him, waiting for him to go too far, to see too much, or to come too close to THEM! Eric cannot move and he stands frozen in place. His breathing has not gone out of control this time because he is not breathing at all.

His breath is completely gone and he feels as if someone is standing behind him with their index finger so close to the back of his neck that he can feel it touching the ends of the hairs that are standing straight up.

Shhhhh! Don’t move! Don’t even breathe!

Eric realizes that he needs to think. He knows that he cannot just stand here and not breathe. That will lead to certain unconsciousness, so he began breathing as quietly as he can.

However, he soon reasons, with all the noise his fall made, if someone is here he would have known it by now. More importantly, he knows that if he is going to figure out where he is and how he got here, he is going to have to flick that switch. The first thing he does, once he gets his nerves together, is to turn around and press his back against the wall. This way, he knows that nothing can get him from behind. He feels that he might have some kind of chance if he can see what comes.

Once he is sure that he is as flat against the wall as he can possibly be, he takes his left hand and slides it up the wall until he finds the switch. Then he takes a deep breath and with one quick, uncontrollable blink, he flicks the switch up, to the on position.

2

WHILE ERIC’S AWAKENING WAS FULL of stress and uncertainty, Jamil’s is not. Jamil’s awakening is gradual. He had to sleep off a night of drinking and smoking, and it has been the best period of sleep that he can recall. He slept so sound that he cannot recall any dreaming. He went to bed and instantly fell asleep; awakening feeling refreshed. He can go about the rest of his day and not feel tired.

When Jamil woke up, he kept his eyes closed. He just laid there, in his room, listening to all the sounds that were in the air. He could here people conversing as they walked pass his house. He could hear the tires of cars as they rolled over the small cracks and bumps that were in the middle of the street.

He lives in Southwest Philadelphia on 56th street and all the houses in his neighborhood are row homes, with porches. His street is a bus route so when his house shakes a little, he knows that a bus has just passed by. He is used to the shaking because he has lived here all 27 years of his life. As far back as he can remember the bus would roll through the block about the same time every day. When he was in high school, he would lie in bed waiting for the house to shake before he would start getting ready. He knew that once the bus passed he had about forty-five minutes to leave the house.

This morning is different from the rest, however. It is actually about 2:00 pm and he has slept the entire morning away. This day was supposed to be a special day because it is supposed to be the beginning of a different life for him. Jamil had been looking forward to this day for what feels like his entire life.

His afternoon awakening should have awakened a feeling of anticipation. Anticipation an employee feels when he expects his supervisor to announce his promotion. However, his feeling of anticipation was not anticipation at all. Instead, it was trepidation and the feeling is so thick that he feels as if he can feel it slide through his fingers like slime.

He opened his eyes and began thinking about the party he attended the night before. It was a private party given by a person nicknamed, Rome. Rome was actually more