Page 35 of As Long As You'll Have Me
“Thanks. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get this done for Ivy today and I have somewhere I need to be by four, so let’s focus.” His words are directed at me before he bends over to start pulling off more boards. Looking back towards Coop, he shakes his head as if to say ‘I have no idea, man’ and I’m left to help my brother finish the project we’d started.
“Help me! Someone! Please!”a voice calls out and I try to reach it. Running towards it, sweat drips down my face as my lungs work to breathe through the smoke.
“Anyone! Please, I’m in here!”it calls out again but no matter how hard I try, I can’t get to it. To him. I take a step towards him but before I know it, my foot is going through the floor and I’m falling, falling…
My body flails as I wake up from the nightmare, sweating profusely and trying to catch my breath. Blinking, I take in my apartment and notice that I must’ve fallen asleep on the couch after getting home from Ivy’s. Carter and I worked to get the porch done before he had to leave but to make it happen, we had to work at breakneck speed.By the time four o’clock rolled around, we had completely replaced the siding and front steps and managed to seal it so it would weather properly. All I remember after getting home is sitting down on the couch to take my shoes off but I must’ve dozed off.
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I take a deep breath and try to collect myself. This isn’t the first time I’ve had a dream like this. Or the second or the third. The voice of my fallen company member haunts me in my sleep since I’m the reason we couldn’t reach him. I’m the reason his wife is now a widow and their kids will never have another holiday with their dad. I dig the palms of my hands into my eyes, trying to force the sound of his voice out of my mind for good but it doesn’t work. A panicked feeling starts to creep into my gut the more I think about it.
Do something. Distract yourself.
Looking around, my eye catches the small piece of paper that’s been sitting on my coffee table for the last three weeks since she gave it to me.‘I’m always here if you need anything.’
Right now I needed a distraction and while she told me there was nothing between us at our last session, shehadtold me if I ever needed to talk, I could reach out.
I find my phone to open a new text and am grateful when I notice it’s not even nine o’clock. My late afternoon nap is going to fuck with my sleep schedule but I don’t care. The only thing I care about right now is getting the gnawing feeling in my gut to go away as quickly as possible.
I type a message quickly and reread it a few times before sending it off.
Hey, doc, you busy?
I half expect her to ignore my text since that’s what she did last weekend. To my surprise, she starts texting me back almost immediately.
Not at all. Something wrong?
Is something wrong? I don’t know, is it wrong if I continue to have nightmares where I hear the desperate cries of a fallen comrade over and over?
I just needed someone to talk to. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.
Not at all! I’m just sitting at home working.
Working? On a Sunday night? Who works on a Sunday night?
No, no, not *working* working. I’m working on a project.
My eyebrows press together as I read her text.
What kind of project?
You promise not to laugh?
I’d never laugh at you, doc.
Smile, maybe. Think about kissing you, definitely. But not laugh.
It takes a moment for her to respond but when she does, it’s a picture of something. I pull my phone closer to my face and zoom in on the photo, trying to understand what it is. It’s some sort of knitted animal I can’t seem to make out.
I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to explain that to me. What is it exactly?
Lol it’s a very poorly crocheted bunny. I’m having a hard time with its ears. For some reason they keep coming out lopsided and deranged looking. Poor thing looks like the good lord was drunk when he made them.
I burst out laughing at her text. Not because she crochets, but because of her joke. I zoom in again on the photo when I notice a piece of fabric poking into the corner. Zooming in closer, I see the very distinct outline of what look like pajama pants with tiny strawberries printed on them.
I can see it now that you’ve said it. It doesn’t look deranged, it looks…
Deranged? Possessed? Like someone smacked it with a baseball bat then threw it into a blender?
I laugh again.
