Don't Wake Me if I'm Dreaming Page 7

  “What?”

  “I’m pregnant!”

  “Really?” I choked as she let go. “I was only joking about you eating that burger.”

  “I’m not kidding. I took a pregnancy test, two actually, and both were almost neon pink and positive.”

  “And Vance, does he know?”

  “Oh, of course! He bought the tests. He’s been telling me all week I’m pregnant.” She reached her hands to her chest. “He said they grew overnight.”

  I glanced awkwardly. “I wouldn’t know a thing about that, but I’m so glad it’s you and not me.” I laughed and hugged her again.

  “Me too! I can’t believe it! We’re really pregnant. Can you imagine, a baby growing in here!” She placed her hands on her stomach, and then tossed her gym bag in a locker.

  I cocked my head to an angle, shaking it no. “I can’t imagine.”

  “I wish we were pregnant together. You guys should hurry up and marry and get pregnant. Oh man, we’d have so much fun with our babies. They’d be best friends like us.”

  I stared at her blankly, laughing seconds later. “Let’s burn off your energy, it’s repulsive. Congratulations, though. Oh, and please don’t tell Matt just yet, I’ll never hear the end of the baby envy spew.”

  We made our way to the treadmills for a warm up. Aimee hardly took a breath between words within the ten minutes that followed.

  “If it’s a girl, Danielle for sure, Vance loves the name Dani for short. I like it, too.”

  “I like Dani, totally dig the unisex names.” I nodded approvingly, still trying to absorb the news.

  “Right! I can’t get over how cute baby girl clothes are, and headbands and bows for her little head, oh, I can’t wait. She’ll be pink from head to toe. I’m so excited I want to start baby shopping already!”

  “That’s great. And if it’s a boy?” I asked, glancing at her, trying to keep my slow jog at a steady pace.

  Her expression changed as if my words were ludicrous. “A boy huh, funny, Vance asked the same thing.”

  “It does normally tend to be one or the other.” I picked up my pace, running faster, wishing for half her energy.

  “Right. I mean blue and green… I’m sure I’d figure out a theme. Maybe little baby sharks and octopi or whatever. I do like the names Nolan, Grayson, Porter, Joshua, and Carson.”

  “Carson would be my pick,” I said, now sprinting as she jogged.

  “Yeah, Vance wasn’t sold on any of them. He’s rather set on a name already. I mean it works, but I’m not even sure how he came up with Scott Ryan Rutledge.”

  “Scott?” I breathed, feeling like my veins were struck with dry ice.

  “I know. Right? I mean it works, but Scott, it’s just so ordinary.”

  Incautiously, my feet stopped dead in my tracks. “Scott?” I repeated. Unfortunately, the treadmill carried on. I rolled back and hit the floor in a pretzel shaped leg twist.

  “Sasha! Oh my God!” Aimee hurried off the treadmill and reached down placing her hand on my back. “Are you okay?”

  “Just a little embarrassed is all,” I said from my disoriented state. “I just need a moment.”

  “What happened?” she asked, trying to untwist me, realizing I was visibly shaken.

  “I’m not sure. I think I need to go home and lie down, please. I’m not feeling so well.”

  Aimee reached, trying to help me up.

  “Ouch, crap!” I fussed, stepping down on my foot. “I think I twisted my ankle.” I pulled up my pant leg to look. I recognized the pain and knew I was screwed.

  “Twisted! You were almost in a sailor knot! What happened anyway? You suddenly turned ghostly white and just fell.”

  “Miss, should I call an ambulance?” One of the fitness coaches asked as he hurried to give me a hand.

  “No, I’m okay, honestly. I just think I was running too fast,” I said embarrassedly. “Can we just go now?” I asked Aimee.

  “Yeah, of course! I’ll grab our bags real quick. Sir, can you help her to the car?”

  Aimee drove me the few blocks back to the apartment and helped me up the stairs.

  “Couch or bed?” she asked.

  “Sofa.”

  “It’s a couch.”

  “Be glad I don’t call it a davenport.”

  “Okay, grandma, get comfortable. I’ll stuff ice in a Ziploc baggie for you.” She hurried into the kitchen.

  “Would you relax? I’ll be okay.” I plopped a throw pillow on the coffee table and propped my foot, forcing myself into a comfortable position.

  She returned with an ice pack and secured it to my ankle with a dishrag. “That’s not looking so good.” She frowned.

  “Honestly, it’s not that bad. How many times did we twist or roll our ankles in dance?”

  “Too many to count.” She plopped down next to me, with her cellphone in her hand, and texted Vance. “He’ll drive your car back here tonight.”

  “Tell him he’s the best and congratulations.”

  “I know it’s a lot to absorb. I was just as surprised as you. I figured it would take more than one try after getting off the pill.”

  “You didn’t mention you were trying, and that’s why I get the shot. It would be my luck I’d miss a pill. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you, but man the responsibility of caring for another life is terrifying.”

  “It sort of is.” She looked concerned for a moment.

  “One thing is for sure, this baby is lucky to have you two as parents.”

  “You think so?” She sounded a little unsure, lifting her shirt to look at her flat stomach.

  “I know so. Just please, I beg you not to tell Matt just yet. He’s been on a marriage and baby conversation kick lately, and it’s not settling well with me.”

  “It wouldn’t kill you to get married and have a baby you know.”

  “Not in a million years. I’m warming up to considering the idea of marriage, that’s a ginormous step for me. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “Got it.” Her smile couldn’t mask her disappointment. “By the way, how did your appointment go with the doctor about the dreams?”

  “It’s concluded the universe hates me.”

  “That bad, huh.”

  “I don’t know. I’m just behaving like a baby I guess. The sleeping pills work fine I just don’t know what I’m going to do if there comes a time I become immune to them. Never sleep again I suppose.”

  “What about the clinic, are they going to do any type of test to find out what’s going on?”

  I huffed, “I’m not going to bother finding out. The doctor there was a nut job.”

  “Well, can’t you go somewhere else?”

  “Sure, if I want to restart the referral process and become a guinea pig.” I didn’t mean to sound so rude. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out. For now, the pills will just have to do.”

  I wasn’t about to tell Aimee my dreams were critical to her future and eventually I would need to return to them in order to figure out how to save her life. And I sure the heck wasn’t going to tell her about the coincidence of her having a son named Scott in my dreams.

  Aimee headed home to collect Vance, returning with my car, only staying long enough to drop off the key and ask one final time if she could be of help.

  After taking a sleeping pill and cleaning up for the night, I lay uncomfortably curled up on the sofa. I tried distracting my overactive brain by reading a book, but my mind was unrelenting, migrating back to the forest dream. I turned off the lights, returning to the sofa to rationalize the probability of the little boy being Aimee’s son. He had her green eyes and Vance’s pale blond hair. No matter how much I analyzed it, wrapping my mind around the idea of me meeting Scott before his conception was not going to happen. It was beyond illogical and not to mention impossible. I tried convincing myself it was nothing more than a coincidence. I tried doing the math in my head and realized it was around if not during her time of conception that I st
arted having the forest dreams. Regardless, I couldn’t help fear the events in my dreams were slowly beginning to unfold.

  I tucked my legs up under the blanket and closed my eyes. If Scott was the child in my dreams, I knew one thing for sure; I had a few years before I had to worry about the forest dream. I tried to picture Scott’s face, but it was merely a fog as I began drifting to sleep.

  In the morning, I heard the alarm clock from my bedroom. I thoughtlessly clambered to my feet. “Ouch! Son of a—” I dropped to my hip, in agony, grabbing my ankle. It felt doubled in size. I scooted, reaching for the light to find my ankle massively swollen and bruised. After taking a few slow deep breaths, exhaling away the pain, I grabbed my cellphone then hobbled to the bedroom, turning off the annoying buzzing of the alarm.

  I crawled on the bed and took a picture of my ankle, and realized I had a text from Matt.

  “Good morning, beautiful. Hope you have a great day!!”

  It’s an excellent day. I frowned in pity, thinking to myself, then texted my boss, Dave.

  “I’m completely handicapped today” I sent him the picture of my ankle. “I fell on a treadmill and thought I was going to be okay. I’m not so sure now. I need to have it looked at.” I wrote.

  Dave returned my text minutes later as I sat texting Matt, telling him that I hurt my ankle.

  “Smooth move. Get it checked out and we’ll go from there. I have a skill saw if it needs to be amputated.” Dave texted me back.

  “You always know the right things to say! Thanks, Dave!”

  “Anytime, kiddo. Feel better!!”

  After a trip to the urgent care and pharmacy, I returned to the apartment and made myself a cozy nest on the sofa and did as the nurse advised elevating my foot over the armrest. Now came the fun part, waiting for Matt to arrive with dinner. I knew he’d blow a gasket seeing my ankle, especially since I hadn’t told him how bad it was in the text, just that I hurt it.

  I read a chapter in a book, but my attention was lost, examining the apartment. It was a pigpen in comparison to my usual standards. I hadn’t tidied the place in at least a week. Despite the dreaded one-footed challenge, I hobbled my way around using the nob of the crutch to pick up laundry. I lit a few candles and turned down the lights to hide the dust, then slightly jarred the windows for fresh air and did the dishes. Luckily, my idea of a pigpen was slightly exaggerated. I had more books and magazines lying around than anything else, making it an easy cleanup.

  I could hear Matt ascending the stairs. I turned on my good heel and fell back onto the sofa, swinging my leg onto the cushion that remained on the coffee table. I tried to emulate a look of complete relaxation to not worry him.

  “Hi, honey, I’m home.” He entered with a large handled bag. As he approached, it gave away the scent of Chinese food and freesia.

  “Hi, lover.” I tried to sound sexy.

  “Hope you’re hungry! I got your Chow-mien and sum-young-pork.” He grinned, amused with his humor. “Look at you all chilled back and… broken!” His grin withered to a mirthless smile, setting the bag on the table.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks.” I tucked my hair behind my ears.

  “When you said you hurt your ankle, I was expecting a bruise, not a trip to the hospital.” He removed a floral bouquet from the bag then headed into the kitchen for a vase.

  “Beautiful flowers, Thank you. The vase is under the sink. It’s no biggie, I’ve hurt it enough times in dance to no longer stress over it,” I said casually.

  “No biggie huh?” After setting the arrangement on the table, he leaned over me for a quick kiss. “I’m sorry you’re wounded. I wish I could make it feel better.” He looked upset examining my swathed ankle. “Is the pain at least tolerable?”

  “No, I’m dying… for another kiss that is.” I held my hands up for a hug.

  He leaned over to kiss me. He smelled incredible, like a perfect mixture of sexiness and Asian food. My stomach agreed and growled ferociously from the delectable aromas.

  “Sounds like I’m just on time!” He gave me a hug.

  “Yes, you are!” He almost stood back up, but I reached, grabbing his collar, and pulled him back over me. “I think I’d rather start with dessert first.” I reached kissing him.

  “You sure are frisky for being wounded.” He chuckled. “I’m not complaining though.”

  “Vicodin,” I mumbled. “Little pain.”

  “Well, baby doll, dessert will have to wait. You should eat dinner first so you don’t spoil your appetite, especially if you’re on pain meds. The last thing I want is to see you get sick.”

  “Is food really preventing us from having sex?”

  “It’s not, starvation is, and I can’t possibly do it with your stomach growling like that. It sounds like grizzlies fighting.” He pinned my grabby hands above my head. “I must admit I do like your one track mind, however.” His brows popped a couple times.

  “Wanting sex more than once a week is not considered having a one track mind. I’m pretty sure any less is defined as deprivation.”

  “Oh, poor baby, I almost feel sorry for you.” He gave me another kiss, quickly slithering from my hands, and scuttled to the table, retrieving our food and chopsticks.

  ***

  After eating dinner, Matt unwrapped my ankle, looking it over.

  “What the hell? You really messed this up, didn’t you?”

  “Matt, it’s not that bad, trust me. It just looks really bad. I did this all the time in dance.”

  He rewrapped it. “Come on.” He carried me to the bedroom. “I’m going to grab an ice pack,” he said, setting me on the bed.

  “There should be a sandwich bag with a block of ice in it. Aimee made it and I refroze it after it melted.” I rolled onto my side making myself comfortable.

  “Got it.” He returned with a washrag and icepack and held it on my ankle.

  “You’re so good to me, thank you for everything. Dinner, flowers, now my personal doctor.” I was feeling extra special.

  “I try hard.”

  “I think it comes naturally.”

  “I love you, I want to care for you, especially when you’re broken.”

  “That’s sweet. My boss offered me a saw to cut it off. Would you still love me if my foot had to be amputated?”

  “Assuming that’s not about to happen, yes. I’d love you if all your limbs fell off, and your hair fell out, just saying.” He lay at my side.

  “That’s a disturbing and dedicated thought.”

  “By the way, I made plans for our one-year dating anniversary.”

  “That is coming up, isn’t it?” I reached pulling off his baseball cap, fluffing his curls with my fingers.

  “It’s tomorrow.”

  “I knew that,” I said, just now remembering it was the middle of May.

  “It’s going to be an awesome surprise.”

  “Why do you do that? You know I hate surprises.”

  “That’s exactly why. I got to get under your skin every once in a while.”

  “Babe, do you not see my ankle? I can’t do much.”

  “We’re staying somewhat local. I just planned an awesome afternoon on the town and you won’t have much walking to do.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Nope.” He smiled. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”

  “Thankfully skydiving is out of the question.” I rolled onto my back, lifting my leg. “It’s starting to hurt again.” I looked at my ankle. “I think the Vicodin is wearing off.”

  “It does do that after a while. You really need to keep it elevated and use the crutches as much as possible.” He ran his fingers through my hair.

  “What if I said it sort of hurts too much to mess around.”

  He sat up a little. “How hard did you fall? We should probably get you to the hospital. You might possibly have a concussion,” he said, teasingly studying my pupils. “Yes, I think it’s most definitely a concussion.”

&
nbsp; I laughed. “You had your chance earlier, and denied me. Now you’re tough out of luck.” I poked at his chest, playfully.

  He smirked in thought. “I’ll be right back.” He headed into the kitchen and retrieved my pain meds and a glass of water, and returned reading the label. He stacked a couple pillows forming a prop. “Here, rest your foot up here.” He handed me a Vicodin and the glass of water then set the glass on my nightstand after I took the pill.

  I found a comfortable position to rest.

  “Let me see your good foot.” Matt removed the sock from my unwounded foot and began rubbing it with firm hands. “Man, talk about a long week. I met the twins last night. Cute little guys.”

  “Lovely. Mmm, that feels sooo good.” I naturally moaned, leaning my head back into a pillow, relaxing.

  “Don’t do that.” He cast a wry expression.

  I glanced at him, my eyes closed as he continued to rub. “Mmm, it feels amazing.” I peeked. His eyes looked heavy as if asking why I was torturing him. My lips matched Mona Lisa’s enigmatic smile, purring a deep groan. “Oh yeah, that’s the spot. Push harder!”

  His hands froze, as did his face. He gently set my foot down. “Excuse me while I use the bathroom.”

  “Sure. If you’re not done rubbing my foot, will you grab the hot oil from the medicine cabinet, pretty please?”

  The bathroom door closed without a word. I turned my head and buried my face in the pillow trying not to laugh then quickly fixed my shirt, unbuttoned a couple buttons, and tucked my hair back out of my face before he returned.

  He reappeared, looking satisfied, holding the bottle of oil. “I should probably take my shirt off. This might stain if I accidentally spill it.”

  “Yes. You should,” I agreed.

  Every muscle managed to flex, as his shirt pulled over his head. He sat back down, pulling my pant leg up, and then drizzled the oil on my foot. His fingers locked between my toes, making a gushing suction sound.

  I bit down on my lip, pressing my head back into the pillow as his fingers deeply caressed my skin.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “Yes.” I breathed. “Superb.”

  “Maybe we can take your pants off so I can massage your leg.”