A Dream Come True

I've been walking for two years and my heart rate is 125 bpm according to my calendar and heart rate monitor. The sun glowers in the air like a compact ball of mockery. It beams of UVA and UVB rays twist into a smirk then slaughter my body. How much more of this can I take? My sweat is flooding, my skin is peeling, my eyes are caked, my throat is unfed, my lips are cracked, my head is pounding, my feet are blistered, my heart is racing and my body is tired. How much more of this can I take? I know I have to continue, but my head is swimming in circles, so I've completely forgotten why. Why?
    "Because of you're undying love for me." It was a male voice, around thirty-five, velvety and trained, composed, charming and calculating with a tint of the New York accent. The voice came booming from the vast blue sky of this world. His words still resonate, making the grains of sand shudder and a single cloud pass over the sun for a moment of relief.
    "How much longer can I take?" I look up waiting for a reply. I flinch when it comes blaring out from beneath my feet.
    "You only have six joules left...use them wisely..." This confuses me, I start racking my brains for all the units of measurements, but I'm pulling on a blank. Forget it. Who cares? At least I know why I'm still here...a battle for some faint, idealistic love.
    This battle is very tiresome. Is it worth it? The velvety and trained, composed, charming and calculating New York tinted voice replays in my mind. It makes up my mind for me; 
    So I keep on walking...
            And walking...
                And walking...
                    And walking....
                        And walking...
                            And walking...stop. I stop in my tracks. Ahead, rippling from the heat is a small spec yet easily identified. Tall, slender, sculpted, composed, upright, elegant, confident, handsome, muscular, angular, smooth, bronze, radiant, flawless. He stands there and my mouth hangs open like an idiot. He looks over his shoulder to me and smiles. I walk towards him and every step I take morphs something around me. Step one; the sand dissolves into velvet carpet. Step two; the vast blue sky and ochre horizons are uprooted by slicing walls and a concave ceiling all made of ornate stone. Step three; the former scenery has completely morphed into a faux sixteenth century, french gothic cathedral planted in the bustling streets of midtown Manhattan.
    On my right is my father, ruddy faced and cheery, all around me are friends and family blotting away tears and beaming proudly, to my left is the orchestra and choir playing the wedding processional and right in front of me is my Rob, my fiancee, my love dressed in a smart, newly pressed tuxedo. I want to burst out of the slow, monotonous stride and bound into his arms. I want to grab his face and pull it to mine and lock our lips in a passionate kiss. I'm almost there. Tick tock. He's getting closer. It almost seems like everything around me is dissolving into nothing and he is the only one there. I am an arms length away from him...
    ScccCCCREEECHH. The music, walking and breathing comes to an abrupt halt. I'm left stand there looking at a scene paused by an invisible remote. People are frozen in laughter and awkward transitional blinks, my dad is about to sneeze, an altar boy is caught mid trip, Rob is arrested in the same charming smile. I'm only just wondering what's going on when the sound of rusted gears escapes from the ceiling. A trap door materializes and slowly swings out. Now a large than life-size iPhone inches out of the opening. It stops when its properly adjusted in front of me. It looks like the phone on my kitchen countertop. Looks like Rob's. All I have to do is blink and the phone zaps to life. Its opening jingle echoes loudly in the silent hall. As soon as the phone is completely loaded the sail boat wallpaper quickly disappears and flips to main menu. An invisible hand desperately flies across the screen to call history, is someone in a rush? We're now on call history. I recognize all the business acquaintances as the names scroll by. Rob always comes home after work to fill me in on the juiciest gossip in the work office. I'm wondering what the point is. The rummaging comes to an end as the highlighted bar lands on an Audrey Millstone. I figure its just another business acquaintance. Well am I wrong. I'm seeing a bit too much of her. This is only the last few calls.
                                    Audrey Millstone-7/21/09-1:34 PM
                                    Audrey Millstone-7/21/09-5:17 PM
                                    Audrey Millstone-7/21/09-9:31 PM
                                    Audrey Millstone-7/22/09-8:39 AM
                                    Audrey Millstone-7/22/09-12:06 AM
                                    Audrey Millstone-7/22/09-6:15 PM
   
Secretary in a high-waisted pencil skirt leaning over to whisper something in his ear. Breathing Listerine fresh breath on his neck. This is what I see stealing my man. First I feel nothing as the image in my mind and phone in front of me dissolve into thin air. Then a less restrained emotions starts creeping into me. It starts with a sizzle and slowly, slowly increases to full blown 212 degree boiling water rage. I rip my stiletto off my foot and hurl it at Rob's meticulously groomed face. As soon as the long, sharp dagger comes in contact with his forehead everything starts rushing back to life. People's smiles turn to frowns, melodious songs turn into a jumble of discordance, a merry priest turns into a concerned priest and my healthily flushed father turns to an unhealthy, corn colored yellow. Best of all Rob's flawless face turns into the priceless lovechild of Marilyn Mason and CP30. Of course then I wasn't in for the laughs. After lashing out at Rob I stomp away towards the door. As I walk I hear the mutters, whispers, screeching, shuffling, awkwardness, yelling, commotion all mesh into one. It's a melange of unfaithful fiancees, nonplused audience members and murdered orchestra swirling together to become one. The sounds intensify, I feel the need to run. The colors and sound blend into spirals that twirl the scenery. I feel like I'm in a Haunted House. Someone help me! I've gotta get out of here...

    "Kara! Kara wake up!" A dirt speckled hand taps me lightly on the face. Two endearing blue eyes peer at me over mountains of crumpled papers and monstrous text books. My sister tells me food is ready. I rub my eyes and reassure myself I'm awake, far away from a desert to the humid, compact metropolis of New York City.
    "Come on Kara." I slowly trudge behind her praising every crumb of wallpaper, every loose stitch on the rug, every flickering bulb that convinces me I am at home, in a reality. After tumbling down the stairs I'm fully convinced I'm awake as I smell the scent of medium rare steak and potato salad waft under my nose. I let my nostrils lead the way to the jack pot.
    "Look who's arisen from the dead!" The same rudy faced father taps me playfully on the cheek, "So physics with all the fun joules and watts isn't good enough for you?" He chuckled. I catch a glimpse in the mirror of a red indent on my left cheek from the corner of my physics text book. I scowl and help set the table. As I pull a glass out of the cupboard my hand trembles and the glass shatters into a million fragments.
    "Kara you alright?"
    "Yeah...I'm just fine..." He looks at me concernedly.
    "You look a little pale..." he takes my wrist and lightly presses his thumb against my veins.
    "You're heart is racing! You should  take your pills!"
    "I'm fine dad..."
    "No really, you're doctor said if it rose to high...let me get your monitor__"
    "Dad." He leaves it alone and we silently continue setting the table. Once all the dishes, plates and silverware are scattered over the table my dad calls Rob. He answers just a sec. and appears with a casual v-neck, khaki shorts and damp hair.
    "Hey sweetheart." He puts his hand on my shoulder. He smells like mint and moss.
    "Hey."
    "I found the perfect wedding gown for you." He pulls back a strand of my hair and tucks it neatly behind my ear. I start to dream of how many more moments of these there will be. When I'm hunched over my work he will tuck my hair behind my ear, when I'm stooped over to pick up after our kids he will tuck my hair behind my ear, when we're both in wheelchairs and my back is permanently crunched he will tuck my hair behind my ear. I want him to tuck my hair behind my  ear till the day I die. I know we are meant for each other. I know we have to get married sooner rather than later, can't go back to hard and toilsome nature of our relationship. No more petty dating business. The event marked on my tacky Teen Ninja Mutant Turtles pocket calendar is highlighted in a rainbow of Sharpies. Permanent markers around July 23rd. Nothing can erase it.
    "Oh sweetie..."
    "What?"
    "I've found the perfect dress for you baby, remember the cousin I was telling you about? He made this amazing dress for you!" I can't wait for the dramatic altar kiss.
    "Isn't it bad luck for the groom to see the bride's dress before the wedding?" Her voice is squeaky and juvenile, her big blue eyes splattered freckles scream naivety and innocence. We scoff and shrug it off. It makes us giggle and we kiss. An amazing kiss. A kiss that beats Titanic, Notebook and Sleeping Beauty. He's ensnared me into a world with no windows or doors, no means of escape. I'm stuck with him. His hand strokes my cheek, our lips are locked and might never part...

    Beep. Beep. Beep. I feel the vibration against my leg. He checks his phone from his pocket. I tell him to ignore it and pull his face closer to mind. He resists.
    "Sorry babe, I gotta take this." I exhale very loudly. He slips away to the other room. I look to the clock. It's 6:15. Time for dad's Aldactone pills. It's 6:15 and something feels oddly familiar. It's 6:15 and a picture of high waisted skirt on an attractive secratary floats into my mind. It's 6:15 and I think I might barf.