Don't Wake Me if I'm Dreaming Read online

  ***

  Overwhelmed and exhausted, I needed to disappear into an abysmal, deep sleep and was about to do just that with the help of my sleeping pill.

  Nine hours of sleep later, I fumbled through the sheets for my phone. I had tons of new emails, missed calls from Martha, Vance, and nine missed calls from Aimee. I heard a long series of small knocks at the door and hobbled to answer it.

  “What in tarnation!” Aimee greeted me with the morning newspaper, coffee, and a baffled expression. “Why did I not hear this from you?”

  I reached, grabbing the coffees from the holder. “I haven’t even wrapped my mind around it,” I grumbled and yawned. Quickly handing back her coffee, I grabbed the paper realizing the accident would be covered.

  I hobbled to the table and flipped through the paper until I found the article.

  “Fatal accident with killing one, severely injuring survivor. At five fifty-eight, yesterday afternoon, a fatal accident involving three cars occurred at the corner of West Blvd. and S Tryon St. The deceased, 87-year-old Richard Mayor, a retired Navy veteran, was pronounced dead at the Charlotte Mecklenburg Hospital. The survivor, 25-year-old Matthew Stephens, a Charlotte Firefighter, was driving northbound when Mayor failed to stop at the light, according to authorities. Stephens is listed in critical condition. A third driver involved hit the rear passenger side of Stephens’ vehicle but did not require medical attention.” I folded the paper then grabbed my cellphone and opened the map app searching for the location. “Matt was heading here.”

  “No, don’t do that to yourself. If he was heading here, it’s because he wanted to be here. It was an accident, don’t you dare blame yourself. Blame the DMV for allowing an eighty-seven-year-old man to drive.”

  I smiled weakly. “You’re right. Let’s burn down every DVM for a hundred miles.”

  “Yes! I found a substitute to cover for me for the day,” Aimee said, sipping from her decaffeinated coffee. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

  “His parents are there to keep me company.”

  “Ah, I’m sorry. That must suck.” She glanced down at my foot. “It’s looking better.”

  “Yeah, it doesn’t hurt that bad. How are you feeling?” I wondered about her pregnancy.

  “Like I could eat anything in sight just to puke it back up.” Her face skewed miserably.

  “Ugh! One more reason to never get knocked up.”

  Aimee laughed. “Was your boss okay with you taking leave?”

  “I doubt he misses me, but I should probably call him, considering I should already be at work.”

  “I’m sure he already knows.” Her voice was suddenly refined.

  My phone rang, and I fumbled trying to pass it to Aimee. It was Matt’s best friend. “It’s Chuck.” I made a weepy face. “I bet he read the paper.”

  “Here, I’ll take it.” She took the phone then headed from the room. “Hello?”

  I quickly showered and cleaned up, leaving my hair damp in a bun. Aimee drove me to the hospital.

  Charles and Marlene were talking to the doctor when we entered the room.

  I stood my crutches in the doorway and breezed past them without acknowledgment. The only visible change was his wrap around his forehead had been removed and covered with a large surgical Band-Aid, and he wore a fresh gown and bedding.

  “Hi, baby.” My words were almost inaudible. I gingerly kissed his cheek.

  “Sasha, this is Doctor Fong. He performed Matt’s surgery yesterday,” Charles introduced us.

  “Thank you.” I shook his hand. “No changes I take it?”

  “I ordered an MRI so we’ll know more in about an hour. I’m going to look at his response to the surgery. We may not have a prognosis for a while, but we should at least have an idea of what to expect shortly.”

  “Thank you.” I stared at his dark silvery hair processing his words.

  “You’ll all be the first to know.” He shook Charles’ hand before leaving the room.

  Aimee was speechless as she stood, still in the doorway.

  Cora and another nurse entered the room to transport Matt for an MRI. “I’m sorry, we’ll have to ask you to step out and clear a path. Family member’s only,” she said to Aimee.

  “I’m his sister,” she lied, glancing at Charles for approval.

  After eating lunch together in the cafeteria, we found Doctor Fong in the hall. “Good news, the hemorrhaging around the brain stopped, so the surgery worked, and the pressure is down. We still won’t know for a while how long he’ll be in recovery. It’s just too soon to tell much.”

  “Praise the Lord.” Marlene’s hand flew to my arm, as she straightened up with a breath.

  “The bad news?” Charles stood.

  The doctor reached down, placing a hand on Marlene’s shoulder. “Matthew is lucky to be alive, there is no denying that. The trauma to his brain is significant, and although he’s showing brain activity—” he paused, pinching his lips together with all our eyes eagerly awaiting his words. “There’s no way to tell Matthew’s cognitive state until he starts responding to us. He could have complete memory loss, possibly not recognize any of you, there’s no way to tell, but you can expect intensive therapy. So, for now, we wait and keep a close eye on him. He’ll be in his room soon.”

  We were silent, absorbing the doctor’s words. “I wish I had better news,” the doctor said, looking down then walked away.

  Marlene’s tears were the first to fall; Charles wrapped his arms around her, burying her face in his shirt.

  I couldn’t cry, or move, I’m not sure I even blinked. “I’m going to be sick.” I ran, bearing the pain of my foot the fifteen feet to the garbage can, spun the lid upward, and vomited.

  I returned home in the evening, but felt like a prisoner confined in my apartment. I needed to escape from my mind. I went into my studio room and walked along the sheet of mirrors lining a wall. I looked down at my ankle in defeat, as dancing wasn’t an option for a release. I glanced at the piano. Don’t be a coward. I walked toward it and sat on the bench. I put my finger on a key and pressed down. The D-sharp minor echoed through the room and sounded pleasant. Don’t be a coward. I placed my fingers on the keys and began playing Moonlight Sonata, and for a moment, the pain was gone; gone from my ankle, from my heart, and from my mind. I played with the same fire as before, but it didn’t last. I felt it smolder through my veins remembering my mom, and how she also played to release her emotions. Suddenly, all ability was gone as if I had forgotten how to play. Dammit! “Damn you! It would be really nice to have a mother right now!” I yelled. My whole body spoke with heartache. “I need you. I need you here with me. I need your help.”

  Defeated, I crawled into bed, staring at a picture in my phone of Matt kneeling by the tree that he carved our initials on. I remembered how happy he was at that moment, which inspired a thought. I reached into my nightstand for the pen and table and flipped it open to a blank page. I had found such release writing about my dreams I thought just maybe writing about Matt would help. I thought for a moment about my best memory and began writing.

  ***

  The sun’s warmth touches my legs and shoulders. I’m sitting in the baseball stadium of my former college, watching intensely. Home team is up to bat. The stands are roaring with cheering fans, and the smells of roasting hot dogs and fried sauerkraut fill the warm, dense air.

  “You look like a kraut type of girl.” The guy sitting next to me extends his arm offering me a foil-wrapped hot dog as he takes a seat. “I’m Matt.” He smiles.

  I accept the hot dog. “Sasha.” I shake his free hand and smile oddly. “Thank you.”

  “I like that… Sasha. Very cool name.” He reaches down and grabs a Coke next to his feet. “It may or may not have been sold with whiskey already in the cup.” He hands me the red cup. “Cheers!”

  “That’s just impressive.” I smirk, accepting the cup, and glance over at Vance and Aimee, as they watch the game. “It’s normally not co
llege protocol to serve liquor in the stands,” I say.

  “Duuuude, did you just give my drink away?” The guy sitting next to Matt looks over at me then gives a swift whack on the back of Matt’s head. “Dickwad.”

  “Oh Gosh! I am so sorry.” I reach, attempting to return the beverage. “I didn’t drink from it.” I give Matt a disapproving look. “I change my mind. I’m not impressed at all!”

  Matt bursts into laughter. “I’m sorry, it was a perfect play. I did buy you the dog if that counts.”

  “Wow. Just wow,” I mumble, unwrapping the dog.

  “I’m Chuck, by the way. Enjoy your drink.” He says, reaching in front Matt for a handshake.

  “Sasha. Nice to meet you.” I glance at Matt, rolling my eyes.

  Chuck is a bigger guy with piles of fuzzy dark blond curls falling under his hat and two huge dimples cornering both sides of his smile. He’s cute in a grizzly sort of way. He hasn’t shaved in days and looks unkempt, but judging by his Rolex and Tommy Bahama attire, it isn’t because he can’t afford a razor and shaving cream.

  I notice Matt’s eyes gander a sidelong glance at my legs, which makes me blush a little. Thankfully, I, on the other hand, had a hot date with a razor before the game and made it a point to shave and oil up my legs.

  Aimee leans forward, curiously “Well, hello, hot dog man!” she speaks loud enough for only my ears. “Who are your new friends?”

  “One’s a thief the other a victim. Brilliant how some friendships pan out.”

  The crowd stands, cheering loudly.

  “I’m not missing this play you ass prick. Go fetch me another drink,” Chuck instructs Matt.

  Matt laughs. “Suck it up, big guy. It’s not every day you get to buy a pretty lady a drink.”

  Chuck tips his hat. “I’d drink to that if I had something to drink.” He elbows Matt, splashing his beverage before leaving his seat.

  “You’re never going to talk to me again are you?” Matt asks.

  “Probably not.” I take a bite of the hot dog, trying to keep my eyes on the field.

  “Well, don’t be so sure of yourself. I’m willing to bet you right here, right now, one beer, we’ll be planning a date before the game is over.”

  I laugh. “Are you delusional? I bet you’ve already forgotten my name.”

  “I could never forget you or your name if I tried, Susan.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Sasha.” He winks.

  “Well, buddy, you’ll owe me a beer, because I was thinking of asking your friend on a date.”

  “Ouch! Chuck? Really?” He makes a bemused face.

  “Why not! He looks like a stud. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m here to watch the game.”

  “You’re killing me here.”

  I turn, looking at Matt. “We’ve already established you’re a thief and liar, but I’ll allow you the chance to redeem yourself. You have to make me say aw before the game is over.”

  “Aw?”

  “Yes, aw like in aw you’re so cute.”

  “You think so huh? He smiles, his face beaming.

  “No.” I bite my lower lip to keep from laughing at his crestfallen face.

  “Well, you just said it. It’s a date.”

  “I have to mean it.”

  “Oh com’mon! Fine.” He looks out at the field. “You’re eyes are a beautiful shade of green-blue. When the sun hits them just right, they look greener, and when you smile, they smile too.”

  I smile as he turns to look at me. “So you weren’t just noticing my legs.”

  “How about Henry’s bar after the game?”

  “I didn’t say aw.”

  “But you wanted to.” He could tell I wasn’t budging. “Fine, aw.” He looks back across the field watching the game then spoke. “When Chuck was a kid, he wore braces on his legs. The other boys picked on him all the time and made fun of him at school. One day, he was walking home from school, alone, and the boys saw him and ditched their bikes to chase him down. They were shoving him and calling him crippled kid and fatty. It was five against him and they were beating on him and making fun of him for crying. I rode up on my bike yelling, calling the boys names giving Chuck a chance to escape. He ran, as fast as his legs would carry his chubby butt, and I took a lick in his place, and almost ended up in braces myself. Chuck made it home safe, and we became the best of friends after that. I’ve always had his back, so if you want to ask him on a date, I’ll move over so you can talk to him, he deserves it. I promise he’s the best guy you’ll ever meet.”

  “Aw, that’s the saddest story ever. They beat you up?” I ask almost in tears.

  “It’s modified from Forest Gump when Jenny saved Forest, but it got you to say aw.”

  “You are a total ass. I almost cried.” I wrap the rest of the hot dog and set it on his lap.

  “Henry’s it is after the game.” Matt smiles.

  “No. That was such a fat lie.”

  “You said aw. There were no other rules to your game, just aw.”

  I roll my eyes. “If we must, I’m sure we can arrange something, but it’s not a date and I’m taking my friends.” I smirk, glancing at Aimee, who I knew would approve.

  “What can be arranged?” Chuck asks, returning to his seat holding a new cup. He discreetly opens a flask and pours whiskey into his cup.

  “Sasha agreed to an arranged marriage.”

  “To me?” Chuck smiles.

  “You wish.”

  Everyone except the three of us stands, cheering a home run.

  “You did not make me miss another play!” I glare at Matt. “You’re standing on a bad foot with me!”

  “I have to ask you for a favor.” He leans, looking at Aimee. He pulls his cellphone from his pocket and hands it to her, and then leans back, placing his arm around me for a picture. “I thought it would be nice to show our children a picture of us from our first date.” He kisses my cheek.

  I belt out laughing.

  Aimee snaps the shot, and then hands Matt the phone laughing.

  “Children. Ha. Clearly, you’re mistaken!” she says.

  “You’re so full of yourself,” I say to Matt, still laughing.

  After the game, we all meet downtown at my favorite college bar. Aimee challenges Chuck and Vance at a game of cutthroat, which allows Matt and me to get better acquainted.

  “You’ve been here before, I take it?” I ask.

  “Every Taco Tuesday. I’ve actually seen you here before.”

  “You have?” I make a questionable expression.

  “You moved so I could grab my beer from the bar. I think you were sitting in this same seat.”

  “Oh, you’re that guy!” I smile.

  He returns the smile. “You remember me?”

  “No. You should have said hello.”

  “My girlfriend wouldn’t have liked that much.’’

  “Girlfriend? I didn’t realize—”

  “Sorry, ex. She was very jealous and wouldn’t have been happy if I had.”

  “Imagine that. Probably because you were noticing other women!”

  “Not others, just you. You smelled really good, like a flower. I caught your scent and noticed you. It was innocent. I recognized it when you sat down earlier at the game, your perfume.”

  “Well, I’ve seen you before, dozens of times.”

  “You have?” He smiles, again. “You never said hello?”

  “Hard when you’re out playing the field.”

  “Playing the… oh, you’ve seen me play baseball?”

  “Almost every home game and a few not so far away games, you’re good, Chuck’s better, though.”

  “Ouch! Yeah, he is. He’s the first pitcher for the Durham Bulls now.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Do you play ball?”

  “I played softball a few years, did track too, but dance and piano were my things.”

  “A woman of many talents. I like that. So… I take it you’re not seeing an
yone?” he asks.

  “That depends.”

  “On?”

  “Whether or not you ask to see me again.”

  His eyes light up. “You’re blushing.” He smiles.

  “Perhaps a little.” I return the smile.

  ***

  I set the tablet and pen down on the nightstand. The sound of Matt’s laughter lingered, leaving more pain than before I began writing.

  I quickly got up and hobbled to my closet. I had only one other method of escape, and would force myself from the chains weighing me down. I changed into gym clothes, wrapped my ankle tight, took a couple pain pills, and drank a small glass of water. I stretched a moment before forcing my feet into my tennis shoes and headed out the door.

  It was peaceful outside, slightly muggy, but bearable. I couldn’t recall the last time I was out and about in the middle of the night, alone, but I found the absence of others pacifying. A dark tabby cat loomed out of the darkness and followed me two blocks before realizing I wasn’t interested in his company. I glanced back to see him settling on the sidewalk under a streetlight, licking his paw while picking up my pace.

  The impact of my shoe connecting to the pavement at a jog sent a jolt of pain into my ankle, leaving it throbbing. I pushed through it, determined to keep going, and did for miles. The pain slowly numbed away from the Vicodin. The mizzling of rain fell on my face, then within a matter of minutes the sky opened and poured, soaking me. It was cool and fresh against my skin. I continued jogging, afraid if I stopped, my ankle wouldn’t permit me to carry on. I jogged for almost an hour, never slowing my pace.

  Eventually, the rain let up, and I found myself on Matt’s doorstep. I longed for his company, and despite the emptiness within his home, I knew I would find comfort there, or so I hoped.

  I punched the code into the keypad and let myself in. The house was dark, with a dim cast coming from the hallway leading to Matt’s bedroom.

  I stepped onto the sole of my throbbing foot, removing the soaked shoe, then removed the other shoe, and peeled off my drenched socks. I stripped, leaving my wet clothing piled in the doorway and then headed into Matt’s bedroom. It felt like satin clung to my feet with each careful, painful step. I realized I was walking on a bed of white rose petals. An eerie feeling of déjà vu engulfed me. I was living a dream, my dream, and without Matt.