He Sees You When You’re Sleeping

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

"And you're sure you can't make it home for the holidays?" My mom's perfectly curated face fills up the entire screen of my laptop.

"I'm sure, Mom, it's too busy. My clients are all over the place this time of year, and I think Henry might be too old to be boarded with all those young dogs.

" The big, lazy black lab in question presses against the side of my leg upon hearing his name, though he can’t be bothered to look up from where he naps on the rug.

"Yes, but I sort of thought… with you being your own boss now and all…" She pouts, a practiced motion she deploys—successfully—on my dad all the time. Her long brown hair is a mirror image of mine, though I’m certain she’d never be caught dead with bangs.

No, I’m the bargain-bin version of her perfection.

The same blue eyes and freckles, just set in a rounder face and chubbier body.

Her makeup is more precisely applied, and Botox has made sure she’s wrinkle-free, whereas at thirty-one, even with a skincare routine, I’m starting to see the start of lines.

“Sue-lite” that’s me, except, you know, double her weight.

"If she said she can't, she can't, Sue," my aforementioned father chimes in from the background. He leans over so I can see him, using a towel to dry a glass, and smiles. "We're just going to miss you, Muffin. We know how much you love the holidays."

I fidget with a rough spot on my thumb, hoping they can’t see the movement below the screen.

The last thing I need is a reminder to not pick.

"I do, I do. And I promise, if I could make it work, I would.

Maybe next year things will be a little more solidified, less hectic and I'll be able to get away. "

"If you're sure," my mom says, with a final moue. "But if at the last minute you think you'll be available, just hop on a plane, okay?"

"Deal. I love you guys."

"Love you too!"

"Love you! Be safe!"

Be safe. The eternal refrain from my father’s lips… and one I'll have zero trouble with, considering I can barely bring myself to bring in the groceries from my porch. I close my laptop and shuffle from my living room into my kitchen—Henry barely acknowledges me leaving—to make some hot cocoa.

Would I like to go home for the holidays? Sure. I don’t want to be alone, but my parents live in Salt Lake, and getting to them requires a trip down to Boston and then a plane flight after.

The last time I went into the city ended with me mugged, my identity stolen, and now, an acute fear of leaving my house.

I try not to be frustrated at myself. Sarah, my therapist from when I was a teenager, always harped on about how all feelings are valid and that I need to “feel my shit.” But when that shit is keeping me from celebrating my favorite time of the year with my favorite people, it’s hard not to get annoyed at myself.

Ping!

My watch lets me know that I’ve got another message, and I purse my lips, playing my favorite game: Which client needs me right now?

Elizabeth has a mountain of applications to get through this week, and her kid has a soccer tournament this weekend; Melissa is trying to create a new team from the ground up.

Fae—last I heard from her—was locking herself in her room until the draft of her book was done, and Emme has a major collab with influencers coming out tomorrow.

Almost all of them are traveling for the holidays, but most aren’t leaving for another week or two.

My best guess at this point is that it’s Liz, and that she had an issue with the workflow I set up for her to wade through the applicants.

I flick up to open my phone and raise my eyebrows. It seems Fae has emerged from her writing cave.

F: DID YOU KNOW CHRISTMAS IS IN TWENTY DAYS????

F: I swear, every member of my family has new babies, partners, or puppies this year. Can you get me gift ideas for:

F: Two newborns, boy and girl. Boy family is pretty crunchy, girl family are big nerds.

A college-aged guy, I think he plays lacrosse?

Late twenties woman, here’s her socials @mariainthecity2486

A mini poodle

A: I’m on it. Do you have college kid’s name so I can do some research?

F: Yeah, Brian Banks?

A: Thanks, do you want to approve or just have me buy?

I’ve learned over the years that sometimes Fae just wants things done, other times, she wants to do them herself, and so it’s always best to ask.

Being a virtual assistant was something I sort of fell into, but now that I’m my own boss working exclusively for women entrepreneurs, I wouldn’t change it for anything.

My clients are boss-ass-bitches to a woman, and helping them balance their work, life, children, friends, and partners is an honor.

It’s super stressful sometimes, but always a privilege.

I’m good at what I do, I get to work from home, and now, I’ve bought my little cabin in the New Hampshire woods.

My closest neighbor is nearly a mile away, and because of satellite internet, I don’t even have a digital delay.

F: How about you just buy? Can you have them shipped gift-wrapped to my sisters?

The three little dots that indicate she’s typing start and stop several times. Fae can get nervous, she doesn’t love how demanding her career has become and how much time it’s taken away from her family.

A: Fae, I’m not buying all of your Christmas presents. Only the ones for people you don’t know yet. Next year you’ll be able to get them something.

The dots bounce again until I get her message.

F: Yeah, I know. Could you actually ship them to you and wrap them? The store wrapping just feels so impersonal.

A: Absolutely. Do you have a specific paper/style you’re using this year?

F: …No, but I do have a few things pinned from a few years ago I liked.

A: How about I look at your pins, pick a theme and ship us both the supplies? That way, they’ll be wrapped the same. Then, I can ship to your sister’s from here (addressed from you, of course).

F: YES! You’re a lifesaver, Ada, thank you!

A: Always. I got you, girl.

Pressing the button for my phone’s assistant, I talk into my phone. “Make a task for buying Fae’s presents.” It pops up, and I attach our text conversation to it as a reference and set the due date with plenty of time for it to arrive.

Admittedly, I don’t have the best work-life balance, but it’s honestly a welcome distraction from my anxiety, and it makes me feel less alone.

Sure, I can’t go out and do big amazing things, but I can support women who do, which is almost as good.

And don’t get me wrong, I know I do important work, but I haven’t been able to leave my own property for like a year, so I’ll take partial credit for their wins where I can.

Sitting down on the couch with my hot cocoa, I click the link to the woman’s socials and scroll to get some ideas.

Henry, seeing that we are settling in for a bit, jumps up to curl up on my feet.

I should probably train him not to since the couch is white, but cleaning helps me think, and I love his cuddles.

He lies down on my feet, his weight my favorite balm to anxiety.

The woman’s feed is full of pictures of her and a guy that definitely looks like he could be Fae’s brother or cousin. They both seem to like theme parks, and it looks like she really likes dressing up. I pop that tidbit into my notes app and keep scrolling.

Looking at their smiling faces only reminds me of what I don’t have.

Restaurants, vacations, and so many trips to the theme parks that they must live in California and have season tickets.

I don’t particularly like theme parks, too many people, but I’d like to be the kind of person that does.

What I’m really jealous of is the pictures of her seeing shows.

I’m a theatre nerd, and before all this, I used to take the train down to NYC from Boston as often as I could.

The image of her holding bright red Playbills in front of an empty stage could have been from my own feed two years ago.

Each one, and there are quite a few, sends a little pang of pain into my chest.

I’m the bargain bin woman to her name brand, or considering how cool I used to be, maybe I’m the thrift store version. I’m the Ada that used to have an interesting life, but now I just sit at home. Occasionally, for fun, I take walks in the woods with my dog who tires easily, woo!

With my spirits well and truly crushed half an hour later, I have some good ideas as to who this woman is and what she might like—or at least what the person she presents on socials might like.

I switch to looking up Brian Banks, and sure enough, he’s a college kid that plays lacrosse.

He even lists some of his favorite teams, so I pop some details into my note and then head over to check out Fae’s pins.

After a few minutes of digging, I find that she seems to really like this ‘brown paper with red and green accents’ look, so that’s the direction I take.

It’s definitely a style my mom would love, so once I have the final design, I order three sets—one for me to have here, one for Fae, and another set for my mom with a note apologizing that I can’t celebrate with them.

Pleased with my night's work, I sip my cocoa and try to brainstorm what the hell one buys for newborns. I’ve been around plenty of babies, I have a big family after all, but newborn baby gifts are really for the parents most of the time.

I reopen my notes to spitball some ideas only to realize it didn’t save my comments on Brian’s favorite teams. Damn.

I thought I was done with socials for the night, but this is the nature of my work, never really done. I open a tab to Brian’s page, scrolling to figure out which team name appears on jerseys or flags the most.

Instead, I find a picture from Halloween. In it, he’s wearing a mask and clutching a knife.

Logically, I know it’s a costume.

I know it is.