Page 4 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
April, 2008, Johnstown, Pennsylvania, USA
Thecafeteriawasabuffet with a two-story, vaulted ceiling from which flags of various nations hung. Its back wall featured staggered windowpanes and flaunted the beauty of the forest without. Nestled in the Appalachians among lush forests and sprawling farmlands, my college closely resembled a ski-lodge. Winters were horrendous, but I loved every minute I spent there. Usually, anyway.
Sitting slumped at my lunch table, squeezing an abominable amount of ketchup on my steak fries, I watched the sun outside shine upon barren trees. Ice from the last storm clung to budding leaves despite the oncoming warmth’s best efforts. Thankfully, the cold couldn’t hold on forever. Fighting a yawn, I watched a robin hop through the sparkling puddles upon the walking paths, the bleakness of winter already yielding to the aurora of spring.
“Another bad dream last night, Amy?” Zahra, my roommate, took a seat beside me at our table, her lunch tray toting leafy greens and lean lunchmeats. Healthy food—something I rarely partook in, despite what my lanky frame suggested.
“You could say that.” My eyelids drooped, though it was 11:30 AM, and I’d already made it through one class.
Zahra slung her messenger bag aback her chair, rolling up her cardigan sleeves. She repositioned the polka dot headband reining back the raven halo of ringlets fanning her face. “What does that make now? The third nightmare this week?” She grimaced, forking a carrot. “Something traumatic happen on your trip down south?”
I glanced toward the entrée bar, where our other two lunch buddies ladled food onto plates. “Please. I went with Olivia and Grace. The only drama we encountered was a rude waitress at a diner in West Virginia.”
“Then what’s causing the tossing and turning at night? And the noises?”
“Oh, damn.” I massaged my forehead, cringing. “Was I screaming, too?”
Zahra’s lips hitched in her creamy sepia-toned face, her button nose bunching. “Only sometimes. It didn’t keep me up—for very long, anyway.”
“I’m so sorry. I hoped I was keeping quiet this time.”
“This time? Have you had nightmares like this in the past?”
“Yes.”
Her russet eyes brightened; her mouth opened around a question.
“And no, I don’t want you to analyze them, Dr. Zahra,” I beat her to the punch, smirking. “Thanks for the offer, though.”
She crunched into her carrot. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Change your mind about what?” Olivia sauntered to a chair at our table. Casual in a gray hoodie, her curls pulled back in a tight pony, she set her tray on the table and slid into her seat, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her straight nose.
“She had a nightmare,” Zahra answered before I could stop her. “And she doesn’t want to talk about it.”
I shot her a look asking,Then why did you bring it up?
“Another one?” Grace remarked as she plopped into the seat on my other side, her cheeks wind burnt. “What’s that make now? The fifth one since we left Charleston?”
“Just about,” I replied.
“What’s causing them?” Olivia asked.
“Nothing much,” I said. “Just stressed out, I guess.”
“Mm,” Grace hummed, sipping pop through a straw. “Stressing about your Women in Lit paper?”
We had the same class at separate times, for which a ten-page term paper was due during finals. A five-minute presentation based on our chosen thesis would follow. The task in its entirety sounded arduous, but I wasn’t feeling the heat because my thesis impassioned me, and I knew just how to frame my supporting arguments.
Olivia chuckled around a bite of fried fish. “Have you decided on a new thesis yet?”
“Nope. Sticking with the one I had, regardless of your opinion.”
Grace faced me. “What’s your thesis, Amy?”
“I’m actually writing about romance novels—about how they empower women.”
Her dark brows rose into her hairline. “That sounds—good.”
