The Superconscious Path – Preview of the first chapter!

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“I dread waking up in the morning. I get this sinking feeling that everything’s about to go wrong. I’m barely functioning.”

 

Mike was trying desperately to concentrate on what Cassie was saying, but he kept getting distracted by the sound of the tattoo drill next door to the right, and the bom-chicka-wow- wow music from the sex shop on the left.

 

He had a sound machine going for all it was worth, but the walls were paper thin, and it wasn’t doing much to drown out the sound.

Not only was it distracting, but it was embarrassing. These people were in their weakest moments, sharing their innermost secrets with him, and he couldn’t give them his undivided attention. He did the best he could to help Cassie, but he felt guilty that he probably wasn’t giving his best.

 

At the end of the session, he walked Cassie out, because the usual suspects that loiter outside his surrounding businesses, left a lot to be desired.

Sure enough, there was a couple kissing passionately and practically dry-humping in front of the sex shop. Then a guy with a greasy shirt and stringy hair came up to them and asked, “Can you spare a smoke?”

 

Mike hustled Cassie past the obviously drugged-out man, and he made sure she got into her car safely.

 

“I’m sorry about this,” Mike said, even more humiliated. “I’ve tried talking to the landlord about it, but he says they’re not doing anything wrong, so I can’t break my lease.”

 

Cassie put her hand over his. “It’s okay, Dr. Dunne. You’ve helped me so much. That’s all that matters to me.”

 

“Thank you, Cassie. You have a good night.”

As Cassie drove away, Mike looked up at his hand-painted sign that read Dr. Michael Dunne’s Psychology Clinic, now lost behind the neon-lit advertisement for tattoos and the air-brushed photos of near-naked ladies promoting the adult store.

 

It seemed that “stuck” was his default position nowadays and played into all areas of his life. He was only thirty-seven years old and already felt like a complete failure.

 

On top of everything else. Dot, his grandmother and last surviving family member, was ill and needed specialist care. When his grandfather, Frank, passed away, his nana became his responsibility. The insurance company would only cover basic medical treatment that left her unable to think straight, and it severely affected her quality of life.

 

Mike had called, emailed, and petitioned the insurance company to have a heart and cover the treatment she really needed, reminding them of how many years she’d paid into her plan, but it fell on deaf ears.

 

This left him with a terrible choice: come up with the money himself or let his grandmother suffer with a mediocre treatment. His grandmother deserved to have the best care, but in the two years since her diagnosis, Mike had gone through his savings. Now he was out of cash.

 

To try and make more money, Mike had gotten his real estate license and started a second business. Based on the boom and growth of their small seaside holiday town, it had seemed like a no-brainer. With an aging population wanting to downsize and retire, he’d known Williamstown was the perfect spot.

 

That was before the pandemic, which frightened that age group into playing it safe. Now, the property market was over-priced, and they were in a big recession.

With two struggling businesses and increasing financial challenges, Mike wasn’t spending quality time with his wife and children. The strain on those relationships was a constant reminder of just how bad he was doing. Nothing was working. He had depression and anxiety, and was taking the required medication he’d gotten from a psychiatrist friend of his.

 

As he usually did in times of despair, Mike took the neatly folded paper he kept in his wallet, opened it, and read aloud, “I am the creator of my reality. I attract money with ease. I am confident and courageous. Nothing stops me.”

 

He saw this suggestion in a self-help book, but it never worked, no matter how many times he said the words. At this point, they no longer had any meaning.

He wasn’t fooling anyone. This was especially true of his wife, June, who’d taken a part-time admin job to ensure the bills were paid. Even though he was grateful, he had a nagging pang of shame.

 

He knew that in this day and age, most families were a two-income household, but when the twins were born, they both agreed they didn’t want to spend a ton of money on childcare and nannies, so June took a break from her job. At the time, it was no big deal, since he was earning enough to keep everything afloat.

But now, their carefully constructed life was falling apart. Covid had stopped the world for an entire year. Many small businesses went online or shut down completely. It was a sign of the times. Mike wondered, not for the first time, why good guys like him always got the rough end of the deal.

 

He needed to let off some steam, so he went to his Jiu-jitsu class. He’d started going in order to relieve his tension, but it also made him feel better knowing he could defend himself against the new “clientele” that hung around his business, should the need arise.

 

He was going through the usual maneuvers, when a crippling fear overtook him. He started thinking about all of his problems and how there was no way out.

“Ow!” Mike said, as he came down hard on the mat, and the hairy, sweaty knee of his Brazilian jujitsu instructor pressed firmly into his back, “A little distracted, eh, Mike,” Carlos said as Mike tapped the mat to signal he’d given up. Carlos held out his hand and helped Mike get on his feet. “Yeah, a little. Sorry about that.”

 

Mike bowed to Carlos and took a quick shower. As he left, he glanced in the mirror and noticed he was slouching. He’d always had excellent posture, and now it seemed he was get- ting old before his time. The huge bags under his brown eyes didn’t help, or his unruly sandy hair, because he hadn’t even taken the time to get a haircut.

 

Mike made his way across town to River Downs Retirement Home, the only place that provided the care his grandmother needed for her autoimmune disorder. It was also expensive and in high demand. He parked in the back, because he hadn’t paid the overdue bill and wanted his visit to go unnoticed.

He could see his grandmother sitting outside her small unit in the early afternoon sun, reading a book.

 

“Hi, Nana. How are you?” Mike asked as soon as he was within earshot.

“Michael, I’m so pleased to see you,”

Nana was eighty-three. Before the illness and the medications, her mind had been sharp as a tack, and she was a healthy weight. But now she was much frailer, with her house dress billowing around her. “Come inside, and I’ll make you a cup of tea,” she said, before getting up and giving him a big hug.

 

Despite all she was going through, Nana remained in good spirits. Living at River Downs meant she was able to have the independence of her own place, plus the support of the staff. It was the perfect situation for her. Mike loved that his grandmother was so looked after.

 

“So, how are you?” Nana asked as Mike followed her inside.

“Great,” he lied. “How are you?”. There was a knock at the door, and then Gloria Hernandez, the general manager of River Downs, came in. Mike guessed her age at mid-forties. She wore red lipstick, black hair in a tight bun, and a grey business suit. She always looked put together and was a tiny dynamo.

 

“Hi, Dr. Dunne. I thought I saw you drive in. Can I grab you for a second before you go?” Her usual cheery expression and upbeat tone belied the message underneath, but Mike received it all the same.

He swallowed past a lump in his throat and said, “Sure.”

 

After Gloria left, his grandmother turned to him. “How are June and the kids?”

They’re doing great!” Mike replied

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen them. You must bring them for a visit.”

“I will, Nana. I promise.”

 

After an hour of enjoying his time with his grandmother, Mike looked at his watch. It was already 2:30 p.m. and probably time to go face the music with Gloria before picking the twins up from school.

 

Mike took a deep breath and knocked on the door. “Come in!” came Gloria’s bubbly voice. He put on his best fake smile and opened the door.

Gloria looked up from a file she was reading. “Ah, Mike. I was just going for a coffee. Care to join me in the café? Mike didn’t really have time for coffee, but he wasn’t about to upset Gloria more than she already was.

 

When they got to the café, she sat down across from Mike and gave her most patronizing smile. “Mike, there’s no easy way to say this,” she said and paused, looking like she was trying to find the right words. “You know I care about your grandmother, and I’m aware times are tough.”

 

Mike nodded. “Yes.”

 

Here it comes…

“Your grandmother’s doing so well here, but we are running a business and have staff to compensate. I’m so sorry to say this, but if we don’t have full payment by the end of the month, your grandmother won’t be able to remain here. We have a long waiting list, and it’s unfair to them as well. She reached over and squeezed his hand to soften the blow, but he barely felt it.

Mike once again painted on his fake smile. “Gloria, I get what you’re saying, but It’s not a problem. I’ve figured out a way to pay her bill, and you’ll have the money by the end of the month.”

 

Boy, was that a whopper of a lie. What was he going to do in eleven days when he still didn’t have the money?

“Great,” she replied. “I’m so happy to hear that. Well, I’d better get back to the office. Send my love to June and the kids.” Then she picked up her coffee and was on her way.

Mike just sat there, head in his hands, sinking into utter hopelessness. He couldn’t go on this way.

 

Why didn’t she and Pop save more for retirement?

But he immediately felt guilty for even thinking it. What sort of man can’t look after his family?

You’re such a loser. He thought to himself

“You lied,” a deep, croaky voice said from across the café. Mike turned around to see an elderly gentleman hunched over and leaning on a cane.

 

“Excuse me, sir?” Mike said, alarmed. “Were you listening in on my conversation?”

“I caught a bit of it. Mainly the part where you told her you would pay her back. But I’ve seen Gloria have these conversa- tions with enough people to know what’s going on, Anyway, I have a sixth sense about these things.”

Mike felt the blood rush to his face as the man came over and took the seat Gloria had just vacated.

 

“Listen, I know your grandmother, and I was good friends with your grandfather. You need to find a way to keep her here.”

“I know,” Mike replied, feeling even worse. “I’ve been trying, but times are tough. I haven’t sold a house in nearly a year. We have two children and a mortgage. It’s impossible.”

 

“Perhaps I can help,”. “Really?”.

“Yes, my name is Giovani Vanderhill. You should speak to my cousin, Vance.” He reached into his pocket and handed Mike a business card. “I’ll call him and let him know to expect you.”

 

What a strange old man, Mike thought. Then he looked down at the business card. It read Vance Vanderhill, and underneath was Entrepreneur. Investor. Superconscious Creator. A number was also printed at the bottom.

Superconscious Creator? What the heck was that?

 

Mike stared at the card in disbelief. Everyone knew the Vanderhills. They were the richest family in town. Their great-grandfather built the first hotel here when this town was only a beautiful beach and a few shops. Their property portfolio was known to be in the hundreds of millions. Vance had the Midas touch, taking the already successful family name and creating a restaurant chain. By all accounts, he was a billionaire.

 

But could Mike really take the word of a random old man in a nursing home? Maybe he was eccentric and carried these cards around to impress people. After all, when you have them made, nobody checks if they’re accurate. Mike could have cards printed that claimed he was the president.

So he just smiled and said, “Thanks.”

Giovanni looked at him a moment longer and said, “I’m not some kooky old man. You’ll see.”

 

“Okay, thanks again,” Mike said. “Sorry, but I need to go pick up my kids.” Then he quickly excused himself, relieved to be out from under Giovanni’s scrutiny.

When his business slowed down, and his hours had gotten more flexible, Mike made a deal with June that he would pick up the kids from school, which enabled her to work extra hours. He had fifteen minutes to make a twenty-five-minute drive. He wasn’t going to make it, and the twins would no doubt give him hell, so he decided to pick up a couple of Cokes for them to smooth things over.

 

By the time Mike arrived at Williamstown Elementary, everyone was gone. Only his two kids were left standing by the gate with the principal, which was odd, as it was usually their teacher who waited with them. They were both visibly agitated.

 

With a smile on his face, he pulled up next to them and jokingly called out in his best dad-joke sarcastic tone, “Want a ride?”

“Dad, you’re late!” Cal stated, his eleven-year-old voice breaking in frustration.

“Yeah, where have you been?” Becca said.

As the kids piled into the car, the principal walked up to Mike’s window.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mike said. “I’ll do better tomorrow.”

 

Ms. Murphy, a woman in her fifties with blonde hair and a kind face, wore a concerned expression. “Mr. Dunne, I’m sure you know what happened today. We’re trying to deal with it as best we can. If you and your wife can make some time to speak, we’d appreciate it.”

Mike had no idea what she was talking about, but he didn’t want to admit it, so he just nodded and said, “Sure thing” before she walked away.

 

After handing each of the kids a can, Mike said, “So, what was the principal talking about? Did something happen today?”

 

There was no reply from either kid as they opened their Cokes and stared out the window, their brown eyes, so much like his, looking forlorn. Then he really took in their appearance. June had sent both of them off to school with neat clothes and every hair in place. Now they looked dishev- elled, their auburn hair tousled. One of Bec’s braids was completely undone, and Mike noticed a bruise on Cal’s cheek.

 

“Hey, where did you get that bruise?

“Dad, don’t get mad, but we got in a fight today,” Bec said, a red, embarrassed glow spreading across her face. “There were boys teasing me about my buck teeth. Cal stood up for me and pushed one of them over, and then they all jumped on Cal, so I started hitting them with my backpack,” she said, starting to cry.

 

“Wait, what? Why didn’t they call us about this?”

“They tried, but they couldn’t get a hold of you,” Cal said. “Then they tried Mom, but she was in a meeting with her phone off, and by the time she called back, it was almost time for you to pick us up anyway.

 

The whole mess at the retirement home had thrown Mike for a loop, and he never thought to check his phone. Now he looked, and sure enough, there was a call from the school and numerous calls from June. She wasn’t going to be happy.

“We spent the afternoon in the principal’s office,” Cal said. “The boys are right, my teeth are ugly, and I need braces!” Bec wailed.

 

Mike took this in with a mixture of sadness for his daughter, pride in his son sticking up for her, and a fear of how much braces were going to cost.

So for the umpteenth time today, he looked at his daughter’s innocent face and lied to her. “I promise, we’ll get you braces. No problem. And I’ll talk to the school about the bullying.”

“Please don’t call them, Dad, it will be so embarrassing.”

 

He didn’t want to tell them he had no choice. They were upset enough already.

The rest of the ride home was silent. As they pulled into their driveway on the outskirts of Williamstown, June waved at them from the kitchen.

 

June was Mike’s anchor. They’d been married for fifteen years, and had been through a lot together. She was aware of the pressure he was under, and yet every time she tried to talk to him about it, he shut her down. He knew it had to be hurting her, but he couldn’t bring himself to put the weight he’d been carrying on her shoulders.

 

They walked in the door, and sure enough, June had an ex- pression on her face he knew all too well. But then she took one look at the kids, and her exasperation was replaced with a look of horror. “Oh, my goodness. You poor babies. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Mom, it was no big deal,” Cal said. “I need braces!” Bec exclaimed again.

“Go wash up for dinner,” June said. “I’ll get an ice pack for that bruise.”

When the kids were out of earshot, she turned to Mike. “Where were you? I tried reaching you for hours!”

 

“I’m sorry. I was visiting Nana. I lost track of time.”

June sighed as she raised a delicate hand to sweep her long auburn bangs off her face, a gesture that always signaled she was stressed out. “I felt so bad. My boss always makes me turn off my phone when I’m taking notes at meetings, so I’m not distracted. The meeting went over my usual work hours, so I didn’t get the message, until it was too late.”

 

Mike felt guilty for letting June down again. She’d always been so supportive, encouraging him to get into real estate, taking on the extra work, and looking out for the kids. And yet, even though she was his partner in life, the one person he de- pended on the most, he couldn’t bring himself to share just how hopeless he felt and how screwed he knew they were.

 

That night, Mike couldn’t sleep, the day’s challenges running through his mind. It was 2:30 in the morning, and he’d been staring at the ceiling for hours trying to figure out how he could make it all happen. Then he thought of Giovanni and that dumb business card, and he laughed. It had to be a joke, right?

“What’s so funny?”

 

“Nothing, honey, go back to sleep I was just thinking about something that happened today at the retirement home.

“Oh, yeah? What?”

 

“After I saw Nana, I had a quick meeting in the café with Gloria about the unpaid bill.” He spoke quickly, so June wouldn’t ask for more details. “Then an old guy who’d overheard us came over to talk to me. Said he was Vance Vanderhill’s cousin and insisted he could help solve our problems.”.

 

“Vanderhill? As in, Vance Vanderhill, the billionaire?” “That’s the one. The old-timer must have lost his mind! He gave me Vance’s business card and said he would phone ahead. You should have been there. I’m surprised he didn’t say he was related to the Pope!”

 

Silence.

 

“June? Did you not hear me? How ridiculous is that?” Silence.

“Are you going to call him?” June responded.

“No! Of course not. If it truly is Vance Vanderhill’s number, which I doubt, he’ll laugh at me! He’ll think I’m a stalker, or worse, some loser asking for a handout.”

“So what? He has no idea who you are. You could pass him on the street, and he wouldn’t know.”

 

“That’s not the point. First, we don’t need to go begging for money, and second, I have it all figured out. I’m not making a fool of myself, because some crazy old man was looking for attention”.

 

June sighed. “You’ve been trying to fix this for months. Se- riously, you’re so stubborn! What’s the worst that can happen?”

 

“It’s not worth the humiliation.”

 

“We don’t have any other options, do we?”

The truth of the question stung. Despite his feigned over-confidence, he was lying when he said he had everything under control, something he’d become too good at lately.

June sat up in bed, clearly agitated by their middle-of-the-night conversation, and turned to Mike. “What if he can help us? Maybe he can give you a loan or a donation to help your grandmother. We’re running out of time. What have we got to lose?”

 

“I’m not calling him. I don’t want to be laughed at. I’ll find another way.”

Mike didn’t need anyone else solving his problems. He was going to figure it all out.

He popped a sleeping pill and drifted off to sleep.

 

Two days had passed since the conversation with Giovani, and Mike was once again up in the middle of the night, worrying over his financial problems. He had nine days to get himself out of this mess, with no plan of how to do it.

 

A month or so ago, he’d called a credit union and asked about a second mortgage. However, it came with a huge interest rate, so he disregarded this option and hadn’t even told June about it. All he needed to do was sign the paperwork. But there was a huge catch. To make the payments, Mike needed to have a small increase in business profit, which didn’t seem likely. And if he couldn’t make the payments, he was risking his house. It was a huge gamble.

 

Could he really ask her to do this?

Yes, he thought in desperation.

He’d make his pitch first thing in the morning.

 

“June, honey, I need to talk to you about an idea,” Mike said in a calm tone while making breakfast.

June looked up from the paper. “What is it?”

“I have a way to solve the problem with Nana, I just need your support to make it happen.”

“I’m listening.” 

“If we get a small second mortgage on the home, we can pay for Nana’s care and give ourselves some breathing space to figure this out.”

June had just taken a sip of coffee and looked like she was about to choke on it. “You’re kidding, right?” she said, once she was able to speak.

“I’ve looked at this from every angle, and I can’t see any other way.” He gave her a pleading look, willing her to understand. “It’s just for the short term, and I can pay it back, no problem.” He’d been using that phrase a lot lately, but he still wasn’t convincing himself.

“Michael, I’m not doing that,” June said in a serious tone. “There has to be another option. I won’t risk our home.” She fixed him with a stare. “I will put up with a lot from you, but not your lies. You need to ring that Vanderhill fellow.”

Without giving Mike time to respond, June got up and left the room.

“Okay!” Mike yelled after his wife. ’I’ll make the stupid call and get laughed at. Then I expect a major apology!”

 

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