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

  I carefully lifted my lower body approvingly and unbuttoned my pants.

  Matt smiled, sliding my pants carefully over my compressed foot. He dribbled oil down my leg, deeply massaging up my calf and worked up to my thigh. “I should probably take my pants off too. I don’t want oil on them.”

  I nodded in agreement as he stood.

  He wiped his partially oiled hands on his lower abdomen. “Nice, this does heat up.” His face brightened.

  I could only nod in agreement.

  His pants came off, and then he returned to the bed, positioning himself at my side. He noticed the sudden change of my little cleavage now showing. “I’d hate to get oil on your shirt. Should I take it off?”

  “I should probably do it.” I glanced at his oily hands.

  He gazed a moment. “You are so beautiful.” He watched me remove my shirt.

  “Uh-huh.” Oblivious to what he said, I agreed from my euphoric stupor.

  He continued running his hands up and down my thigh, caressing my skin. His lips gently touched my knee as his fingers traced my skin, slowly moving up and down my calf. His touch was tender and his breath even and soft.

  Completely relaxed, I breathily moaned, sharing my devious satisfaction.

  He worked his way up to my stomach, adding more oil, slowing his pace. He rubbed my tummy, working his way to my ribs. Catching my glazed over eyes, with a hushed whisper he asked, “move in with me.”

  My cognitive functions quickly returned to normal. “Where did that come from?”

  “I’ve just been thinking about it a lot.” His smile faltered, eventually fading with my change in expression. “Would it be such a big deal? We’ve already declared our love stuff for each other.”

  “Love stuff, cute! But no, not until we’re married! My dad would crap a brick if I lived unwed with a man.”

  “How often does your dad come to town?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “This isn’t the fifties everyone lives together before marriage. It’s like a test drive before investing in a car.”

  “You want to see if I’m worthy of investment?”

  “No, it was an excuse.”

  I stared at him without responding.

  “Marry me and we won’t have to worry about it.”

  “Are we having this conversation again?” I sat up, propping myself with my elbows.

  “You said I had to ask your dad first,” he quoted me.

  “Well, yes, I mean I…I’m just…” I stammered my words. “Wait, you…you asked my dad?”

  “I get it. You’re not ready.” He leaned back and reached for his shirt, pulling it on. “I can just wait forever.”

  “Wait, Matt, hold on now, you’re not being fair. I didn’t think you were serious.”

  “I’m the one not being fair? You want to talk about fair, make up your mind already.” His jaw tightly showed frustration, as he slid his pants on. “You told me I had to ask your dad just to reject me?”

  “You’re not seriously leaving are you?” Who on earth walks out in an argument.

  “I’m going to the department for the night. I think you need some time to get your head straight, so I don’t keep making an ass of myself. Clearly, we have different agendas.”

  I put my shirt on, trying to hurry through the buttons. “You caught me off guard. I just wasn’t expecting it like this, like without a ring… lying in bed, no bent knee.”

  He stared at me a moment, his nonverbal communication spoke louder than words. “Sleep well, Sasha.” He walked from the room. I heard him slip his shoes on at the front door, and then leave. A moment later, his jeep drove off.

  “What the hell just happened?” I searched for my cellphone, realizing it was in the other room, next to my crutches. I grimaced; carefully lowering my feet to the floor followed with a pant-less hobble through the apartment.

  I positioned myself on the sofa and dialed Matt’s number. After the fifth ring, his voicemail answered. “Matthew! Come back here. You can’t just leave in the middle of our—”

  “If you are satisfied with your message press one. To replay your message, press two. To rerecord your message, press three. If you are finished recording, press four.”

  I pressed three. “While you’re at it, fix your voice system. You can’t just leave in the middle of our…”

  As the voice system began ranting again, I furiously pressed end on my phone. “Jerkface!” I spluttered.

  It only took a few minutes before my fury turned to anguish. I couldn’t undo the humiliation I caused him. I couldn’t pretend like it didn’t happen like he hadn’t just asked, and meant it. I also couldn’t stand knowing how disappointed he was with my response. There was no justification for it or reason for not saying yes other than just being a coward. I sat holding my phone, anxiously waiting to apologize, but it didn’t ring.

  ***

  I crutched my way to use the bathroom, then washed my hands and stared at my face in the mirror. Matt had just stood here an hour ago, smiling ear-to-ear locating the hot oil. “Dammit!”

  I headed to my bedroom closet to dress, thinking I was going to drive to the fire department, but as I shuffled through my pants, my hands felt somewhat floppy. I held them in front of me, flapping them, realizing the pain pill had left me even more debilitated. I stood trying to decide if I wanted to risk driving after him, but I thought of the car accident dream and then huffed a defeated sigh.

  I slipped my yoga pants on and returned to the sofa, sitting, once again staring at my phone. I constructed a text. It was the best I could do for now.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you. I was caught off guard. Please, Matt, don’t be upset with me. I want you to come back here and spend the night with me.”

  I sat looking at the message, then leaned back on the sofa feeling nauseous from the mixture of painkillers and uncertainty as I pressed send message.

  I jumped under my skin hearing the phone chime.

  “How’s the ankle? =(”

  Dammit Aimee!

  “Still there! =/”

  “Magnificent. Can I bring u anything?”

  “Matt fed me. Think I’m good. Thx love!!”

  “Luv U!”

  “ <3 U 2!!”

  I waited…

  And waited…

  The phone chimed making my heart leap again.

  “Not mad, just a little hurt. I love you.”

  I texted him back. “Will you forgive me pretty pleeease?”

  “I have 2. We have plans 4 2moro nite for our anniv.”

  “You still want to take me out?”

  “Plan changed to a fil-A date!”

  “Liar. I deserve it though!”

  “Not arguing that.”

  “I didn’t mean to say no. I’m sorry!”

  “Well that makes it all better. =/”

  “I could always ask you to marry me?”

  …

  “Matt?”

  “I need to think about it first.”

  “Call me?”

  “Working got to run!”

  I texted. “I LOVE YOU!!!”

  My stomach sank to the floor, thankful that he at least acknowledged me.

  It didn’t take long before the Vicodin put me to sleep.

  ***

  I dress in the Ivory lace dress I’ve saved for a special occasion, now seems like the perfect time to wear it. I return to the bathroom, and drop the rollers from my hair, and then pin it away from my face. Only a few strands hang, giving it a soft windswept look. I crimp my lashes then apply mascara. I glide my Little Red Dress lipstick over my lips, blot, and apply a clear gloss to seal the color. I spritz perfume on my collarbones and wrists and rub them behind my ears.

  Now, to stuff my compression wrapped foot in a shoe would be my only challenge. I try three pairs of shoes on before almost ripping my attire off and calling it a night out of frustration. Only my slippers are comfortable enough to wear. I finally settle for a black pa
ir of slip-on shoes.

  I remove the ivory ribbon from my waistline, and swap it with a black satin ribbon from another dress instead, tying the outfit together.

  Late spring brings many muggy Carolina evenings. Tonight is no different. I grab a lightweight sweater and look over myself in the mirror finding satisfaction in my reflection, then turn off the light, and crutch myself to the living room.

  I hear Matt’s never changing signature knock. It is brief and informative that he is entering.

  “Hey, babe,” he says, closing the door. He’s holding a fresh bouquet of roses, red and white with baby’s breath.

  “Hi.” I smile, standing on one foot, balancing, to greet him. “You look handsome.” I seldom see him in a suit and tie, once at a wedding, and again at an award ceremony.

  He approaches me, unsure of where to place his hands. “You look beautiful.”

  “It’s not too much?”

  “Nooo, not at all. It’s perfect.”

  I laugh breathily. “You look nervous.”

  “You just look so fresh and clean, I’m worried I’ll leave handprints on your dress.” He glances at the calloused stained hands of a construction worker.

  I laugh again. “Fresh and clean, as opposed to?”

  He smiles and places his hands on my waist. “You’re breathtakingly beautiful.”

  “And you’re very handsome… Are you going to tell me why I’m dressed like this?”

  “You’ll see soon enough,” he speaks, rather pleased with himself.

  “I hate surprises, Matthew!”

  “Ah, come on, you look perfect for the occasion.” He carefully kisses my forehead, trying not to upset my balance.

  I lean in, holding my head against his lips and reach for his waist. “I love you,” I whisper.

  He places a soft hand on my cheek then draws our lips together. The kiss is tender, and his breath smells winter mint fresh.

  “Your lips are amazingly sweet, like a cherry mojito,” he whispers between our mouths. He kisses me again, this time much deeper, gripping me much firmer, pressing his body against mine.”

  “Do I detect a change of plans this evening?” I whisper, suggestively.

  He responds with his lips seeking my neck, taking in my fragrance, his grip tightens firmer yet.

  I gasp a little at the pressure.

  He eases his grip. “I’m sorry. You smell really good.”

  I laugh. “No problem.”

  He carefully lifts me into his arms, carries me to the kitchen, and places me on the counter with my legs dangling in front of him. “I want to keep you off that foot. Is this okay?”

  “Excellent seating choice.” I grab his tie and pull him close enough to loosen it.

  “Easy now, kitty, we have plans and timelines to follow.”

  “Plans were meant to change. Besides, I think a romantic evening in sounds appealing. Walking in these shoes is going to be dreadful.”

  “I’ll carry you. We have dinner reservations first.” His lips reach for mine, and quickly, I wrap my right leg around him, scooting us closer together.

  “We can spare a few minutes.” I reach again, trying to remove his tie.

  He submits momentarily, with a pleasured growl, and then eases from my grip. “I promise tonight, you’ll have more of me than you’ll be able to handle.”

  We hear a series of short honks from the street.

  “Our ride is here. Can’t keep the chauffeur waiting, now can we.” He smiles extremely pleased.

  “You’re not going to give me a clue?” I ask as he hands the crutches.

  He thinks about it a second. “I think not.”

  The drive isn’t long, before arriving at a small airpark. I can’t see much through the dark tinted windows and Matt hasn’t given me the slightest clue why we’re here.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and let him lift me from the car. He carries me the short distance to a very large basket tipped on its side with five busy men standing next to it. Suddenly, a loud generator kicks on, blowing air into a huge sheath of fabric.

  It is too noisy to ask questions but only takes a few seconds to realize what I’m seeing. The fabric gradually lifts, unfolding into a humongous balloon. A burst of flames emits from a large coil, filling the balloon with hot air, illuminating the many beautiful colors of fabric. Once the balloon begins to ascend the men tip the basket upward while another approaches us. The fan has shut off, making it easier to hear now.

  “What do you think?” Matt asks with a cheerful smile.

  “It’s beautiful. Are we watching someone fly?”

  He laughs. “No. We’re going for a ride.”

  My laughter is considerably louder than his. “No, I think not.”

  “Babe, it’s fine, it’s going to be awesome to see the city lights from the sky.”

  “Well, enjoy, I’ll be right here when you return.”

  “Don’t be scared, nothing bad will happen.”

  “Hi. I’m Steve, and I’ll be your pilot this evening.” The man reaches to shake our hands. “Before we take off, I have a few safety rules I need to cover. The first ten minutes, you’ll get use to the feeling of flying. It may be a little bumpy, but the weather permits for a fair ride tonight. Keep your hands away from mechanics, and if you notice anything in our flight path, please inform me. I’m familiar with landmarks, power lines, and so forth so there shouldn’t be any issue. And most of all relax and enjoy the ride. Any questions?” he asks, his eyes beaming.

  “How many times have you flown a hot air balloon?” I ask.

  “Uh twice.” he teases, but finds he’s the only one laughing. “I’d say over two hundred times now.”

  “You’re still alive. That’s a good sign.” I glance at Matt.

  “It’s okay, babe. You’ll do great. Everything will be fine.”

  The man smiles, reassuringly. “The odds of us running into any serious issues are not even a concern. My balloon won’t falter, and just in case, there’s a backup heat generator that will land us safely. Never had to use it, though.”

  I smile with a ragged breath. “Will we be able to see much? In the dark I mean? We could do this another time.” I shake my head.

  “Are you kidding, city lights for miles. We’ll be traveling at low altitude with clear skies. I think it’ll be a perfect night for an adventure. I have a few favorite well-lit spots I’ll fly over. Shall we?”

  Steve gets into the basket first, then Matt lifts me over with Steve’s help before climbing into the basket.

  “Your crutches will be waiting for us when we land,” Matt says, wrapping his arms securely around me.

  “Everyone ready for lift off? Hold onto the side handle to stabilize your balance. We may sway just a little, so don’t be alarmed. Here we go,” Steve says, thrilled. The men untie the ropes, letting us drift into the sky.

  It takes at least five minutes of unsteady breathing before I calm enough to notice anything other than my fear.

  From the air, the city lights look undeniably phenomenal. Steve is busy with the controls, naming the ground locations and landmarks and conversing with Matt about his pilot training.

  “Are you okay?” Matt asks.

  I nod my head. “A little nauseous, but I’ll live…or I hope to anyway.” Although I’m terrified of heights, Matt’s hold around my waist ironically makes me feel safe.

  I recognize a few areas and buildings, but most captivating is the moonlight over the water as we float adjacent to the Catawba River.

  After the half-hour long flight, we land at another small airpark on the other side of town where our limo awaits our arrival.

  I feel a change in the air, realizing I am dreaming, a pleasant dream. I quickly absorb the moment realizing we move from one location to the next without actually traversing there, the same way I once had from the lake to the campground with the little boy.

  We are inside the French Cuisine, Terra Restaurant. Matt and I had our first official formal
date night here. Tonight, I order the pan-seared scallops served with spinach and ricotta cheese ravioli finished with Pernod cream. Matt orders the Lamb shank Osso Bucco served with saffron risotto, paired with a bottle of Panizzi, imported from Tuscany.

  “Happy Anniversary.” Matt smiles, reaching into his pocket. “I have something for you.”

  I feel a rush of excitement, waiting for him to get down on one knee.

  He hands me a business card. The excitement disappears as I accept the card. “Thanks?” I read the card. “Oasis Spa And Resort.” I smile, waiting for an explanation.

  “I didn’t want to carry around the gift certificate all night, but it’s a gift card for a deluxe day of beauty. Hair, fingernails, toe paint, massage, the mud stuff you women think makes your skin look nicer, and a choice of body wrap or hydro tank. I’m not sure what either means, but the lady said you are welcome to choose for yourself.”

  I laugh at his sweet innocence. “A facial.” I suddenly feel awful. “I didn’t realize we were exchanging gifts. How stupid can I be, of course, people share anniversary gifts.” I drop my face in my hands a moment to hide my embarrassment. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Maybe I can buy you a spa treatment and we can do it together.”

  He laughs. “I’ve always wanted my nails polished.” He winks.

  “This is a very thoughtful gift. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  “You can make it up to me tonight.”

  We sample from a wine collection and before leaving, a gift bag is delivered to our table, with our three favorite bottles of wine from the collection.

  With the same gust of wind, we’re at Matt’s house in the limo. When we arrive, the gentleman opens our door, lending me a hand as Matt collects the wine, crutches, and my clutch. He tips the driver then helps me up the walk and few steps to his door. A soft light glows from the small windowpane on the front door. The house is dimly lit, and soft music is playing when we enter. Not wanting me to see much, he quickly closes the door, then stands in front of me and takes my crutches, sitting them against the wall.

  “I have something for you, something a little more comfortable.” His brown eyes look soft, but show excitement.

  “I think you’ve spoiled me enough for one night.”

  “It’s my job to make you feel like a princess.”