Fever Dream Pt. 03

"Oh my God, Stella! Honey, what's the matter?" the voice of her mother said, causing her to jump in surprise, whipping her head towards it.

"Oh, Mom!" she cried out, throwing her arms out towards her mother, outstretched in a desperate plea for consolation, something she hadn't done since she was a toddler and causing her mother to rush to take her in her arms, despite being stunned at the gesture.

"Oh, honey! What happened!?" she asked, tears now choking her own voice, being genuinely frightened for her child. Minutes passed by, Stella unable to utter a word, and her mother holding her tight through her sobs, waiting patiently for her to regain the ability to speak.

"He's gone...and it's my fault." She stammered through sobs.

"Gone? But...his shirt is right there on the counter, sweetheart. Before I left for the office a little while ago he said he was going for a run or something. He's probably still out on the paths."

"Really!?" she suddenly exclaimed, excitement replacing her sorrow. "Oh, Mom! Thank you!" she said, squeezing her mother before trying to get to her feet.

Once on her feet again, she found she could barely look at her mother out of the sheer embarrassment she felt at someone seeing her like that.

"Don't be that way, honey. Its...a completely understandable reaction and assumption, given his track record, and how close you two are...but you don't have to worry about that, I don't think. We had a little talk this morning."

"You did? What did he say?" she asked instantaneously, her usual cool exterior stripped bare.

"That he is back...home, for good. That he loves us, and that he wants to make everything right. Your display for him this morning really touched him, I think. It looked like it practically made his year, actually." She chuckled, getting a small smile from Stella.

"See, speak of the devil...and he shall appear." Martha said, pointing her head and gaze out the sliding glass towards the back grounds where from the far end of the property that was visible out of the woods, came a shirtless running figure.

Stella turned on the spot, placing her hands on the glass, her face inches from the door, watching the object of her undying love sprinting full speed down the sloping grass towards her.

He was running much faster than she thought should be possible, given her memory of his athleticism, or lack thereof in their younger years. His gait and cadence spoke only of two primal aspects of man; speed and power. Just as her full attention was drawn to the figure outside, sounds from the front entryway signaled that others had entered the house behind her.

"STELLA!" a commanding voice called out from well behind her as her eyes drank in the man now almost to his goal: her.

"Stella! You had me seriously worried back there Stella! What is going on with you!? Stella!!" the voice said, now in the kitchen behind her, but she barely heard him.

"Stella, honey? Are you ok?" a softer, more timid voice asked behind her.

"Huh...oh, hi Tillie..." she answered behind her, barely registering them as she looked on at the topless, sweaty figure that was feet away from the front steps, about to crest them towards her, at least until the moment he didn't.

She watched in confusion as the figure who should already be running up the stairs and into her arms had instead made a beeline for the pull-up bar, leaping directly unto it in one bound, pulling himself up and down with complete and utter control, over and over again at a speed that she wasn't sure she could truly understand. She couldn't even count how many repetitions he was doing because of the distraction his chiseled muscles made as they stretched, tensed and moved with his efforts. 30? 40? Maybe 50 was the number he was counting to, but just as she was becoming sure that she never wanted to do anything else in life other than watch his impressive form do pull-ups, he swung himself forward off of the bar, and within two strides, was in a boxing stance, throwing blow after blow at the training dummy in front of him. One-two punches and jab-to punch repetitions, one after another, tirelessly came from his aggressive form with a strength she could clearly see, and a fury she was scared to ever understand as the wooden post the dummy was attached to shook and shuddered under his blows.

What finally brought her out of her lust filled trance was the sudden realization that his back had a large tattoo, or perhaps a serious of tattoos she couldn't exactly make out across his upper trapezius and across his entire shoulder blades. Just as she was beginning to see some shapes in them, he turned away from the dummy, and in 2 steps was in front of the large punching bag across from it, raining blows to it with the same power, technical precision and unbridled rage he had before. This spin move also showed her a large tattoo across his chest. She would have been stunned at the surprising, transformed figure of a man physically foreign to her if she wasn't absolutely hypnotized and gravely apprehensive by the rage before her from a person she'd never seen step on a single flower. Blow after blow he rained down, and with each one he threw, his face seemed to contort in increasing anger as the bag refused to come off of its chain.

"...Jesus Christ..." whispered Paul's voice, behind her as she suddenly became aware of him, Tillie and their mother watching the same display alongside her.

The tension had reached a fever pitch from within her, with so many intense emotions and desires, the one that was winning out within her was concern. Something instinctively told her that he was feeling just as out of control as herself, only instead of desperate need and lust, all she saw was anger...rage...and all-consuming fury. It was this thought that hit her at the precise moment they all heard his cry. A cry of desperate rage, a torturous roar as he rained his last blow, finally breaking the hinge the bag chain was attached to, throwing the bag flying and Jackson with it, on his hands and knees, trembling.

"JACK!?" Stella cried, knocking Tillie to the ground and her mother aside in a frightened bid to the sliding door, throwing it open and flying down the steps as fast her body could take her. Within seconds, she flung herself to him, grabbing him from behind around his chest, wrenching him up, his own sobs now drown out by hers as he grasped unto her hands.

"I've got you, baby!" she said, pulling him with all of her might with her as she slid her now almost sitting body towards the post holding the dummy, leaning them both against it, holding fast to his trembling form for dear life.

"I'm sorry, Stel! Please...I'm so sorry...I had to, I'm sorry..." he cried, emotionally and physically spent to the last ounce of strength.

"I know, baby! I know. Its ok. I didn't mean it. I swear, I didn't mean it. I love you! You're here and we're together, and I'm gonna make it better. We're gonna fix it! We're gonna fix everything..." she whispered in his ear, holding his head still to her chest.

"Please don't leave me, Jack...don't ever leave me again, baby! I promise I'll make it all better, just...just don't leave me!" she whispered through fresh sobs, trying to comfort him while in need of equal comfort in kind, the emotionally blind leading the blind, both caught up in the love of their own little world as three loving family members watched on, clueless and helpless to do anything except watch, hope, and love.