Chapter 10
Dreaming Again
Emily
Seven years ago...
Igot picked up from my ice-skating class today by our old neighbor Heidi. She was late because she went to the judo center first, expecting me there. I reminded her that judo was on Tuesdays, ice-skating on Wednesdays, piano lessons on Thursdays, and horseback riding on Fridays. Mama signed me up for activities as soon as I said I wanted to try them. I didn’t have a favorite so far. Always being away from home made me tired.
“Why isn’t Mama picking me up?” I asked Heidi, and she gave me a sad face. “She’ll explain everything,” she promised, and I leaned back in my seat, satisfied. But then I noticed we weren’t going the usual route. “You were supposed to take a right there!” I pointed at the intersection we had just passed.
“Honey, your mother told me to bring you somewhere else today.”
I swallowed and nodded, but I didn’t dare lean back and relax again.
Eventually we arrived in a neighborhood I hadn’t been to before. Mama awaited me in front of a house I’d never seen. “Thank you so much for picking her up, Heidi,” she said when I got out of the car. “Sorry about the mix-up.” She leaned down to hug me. Heidi left with a smile, but it was different than the one she usually gave me when she saw me on the street.
“What’s going on, Mama? Why didn’t she bring me home?” I asked, and my mother’s face broke.
“Lovely, I can’t come home with you.”
“Why not?” I asked, but she didn’t say anything.
I followed her inside. It was a strange place, with a leather sofa. I didn’t like leather sofas; they were cold, not cozy like our couch in our living room. “Where are we, Mama?”
She sat down on the cold couch next to me. “Lovely, you probably don’t know this, but your father and I don’t get along anymore.”
“I know that you fight. But Lucas told me it’s normal,” I said proudly.
“You knew? And Lucas...” My mother shook her head. “Never mind. What I’m trying to say is...” She swallowed, and tears rushed to her eyes.
I frowned. I hated seeing Mama cry. “Mama, what is it?”
She inhaled deeply, then cupped my face the way I liked it. “Your father and I, we decided to go our separate ways.”
I gasped, trying to understand. “You’re going away?” My heart pounded. I couldn’t be without Mama.
“No, lovely. I just can’t come home with you anymore.”
I looked around. This place didn’t look like she was living here. “Then where is your home?”
She bit her lip, tears dripping down her chin. Quickly she wiped them away. “I’m staying here. It’s from Richard, a really nice man. One day you’ll meet him.”
I pinched my brows. This didn’t make sense. She was with Papa; why would she live with someone else? “Why can’t I meet him now? And why can’t you come home with me?”
And then I cried. Yesterday, her, Lucas, and I had dinner like usual. Papa was in his office. It was like every other night. Why had it changed?
“Your father won’t let me, lovely. I’m so sorry.” She patted me gently. “It’s not your fault. I tried to stay as long as I could, but I can’t anymore. I hope you can forgive me.”
Forgive her? My head was spinning, and I didn’t know what to say or do.
I curled up on the couch. “My stomach hurts,” I said, and Mama wrapped me in a blanket and brought me a strange herbal tea I didn’t like. My brother eventually got there too. That night we watched Finding Nemo, and for a little while, everything felt normal again.
Now...
I turned my pillow over, seeking the cooler side. The temperature had gone up in the past few days. I’d caught myself dreaming about Paul again.
Stop thinking about him, I told myself. Keeping him out of my thoughts was the key to moving on.
Yet lying here in the dark, I couldn’t help but wonder where all those intense feelings were supposed to go when you were no longer with someone. For me, they didn’t simply vanish. They lingered. I missed him—not as my boyfriend, but as my friend.
The pillow was warm again. In an instant I saw the wave coming at me—fear, anxiety, a troubling memory. I sat up so quickly that my bed creaked beneath me.
“Not again,” I whispered, closing my eyes and pressing my hands against the sides of my head to block out the overwhelming sensations. Today was good, I reminded myself, and my heartbeat gradually returned to a more manageable pace.
In fact, it had been more than good; it had been magical. Being with Jon was such a high. And I went through withdrawal after every kiss goodbye.
He was serious about being a good boyfriend, and I was surprised at how well he was handling it so far. Even when we went through a little hiccup, he didn’t shy away from me. The way he apologized to Gena and Henry with such sincerity, looked at me with such care—my heart bloomed like the beginning of spring. Henry hit him with question after question and practiced his would-be evil glare (which I had to admit had gotten better since I’d moved in, but still wasn’t entirely serious). Gena reminded him about the rules, and Jon promised to make sure I followed them. Especially the no-sex-before-I’m-on-birth-control one. Now he was welcome at the Shields’ place too... but I doubted we’d be spending much time here, seeing we might run into Paul.
I couldn’t understand why Jon still wouldn’t talk to him. He had assured me he’d write me more journal entries, but until then I had to be patient.
I couldn’t blame him. I hadn’t shown him my latest ones either. And I hadn’t mentioned that Henry, Gena and I were researching ways for me to stay in America. So far we hadn’t made much progress. But Henry had a friend from college who knew everything about visas and would be getting in touch soon.
If I was feeling this weird after coming down from an emotional high, I could only imagine what Jon must be going through after that awkward encounter with his best friend. I reached for my phone to check on him. But when I tapped the screen, it stayed black. My charger had been acting up lately, and I had to fold it a certain way for it to connect. It must’ve shifted out of place. I sighed in frustration and plugged it in again, but nothing happened. I groaned. I desperately needed to text Jon, to know he was fine, to dive into another emotional high.
Paul had a charger, and I knew where he kept it.
Peeking out the window: his car was still gone. I crept through the hallway and down the stairs to his room.
I flipped on the lights and gasped. I hadn’t been down here since I’d gathered the last of my stuff. Now, piles of clothes and empty bottles lay scattered everywhere I looked. And there were even more posters on the walls than before. Where it used to say Babycakes with my sun like an over-easy egg, there was now a poster of wind turbines. I bit my lip. It was good that he’d erased traces of me in his room, I reminded myself. He was moving on, like I was trying to myself.
I had to know how much moving on he had done already. I stepped through the clutter and carefully peeled the tape off one corner of the poster. I squealed when the tape came off.
Behind the poster was a hole in the wall in the shape of a fist.
Below it were the faint outlines of the word Babycakes.
My hands went to my mouth. I wasn’t that I was scared of him—more that I was terrified of my blindness. Seeing the state of his room, I felt like even more of a jerk. I knew he’d punched the walls, but not with such force that it actually left holes in them. I quickly pressed the tape back onto the wall and sprinted up the stairs, not caring about the charger anymore.
I slipped back into the warmth of my covers, thoughts racing. Paul needed me. Maybe not as a lover, but at least as a friend. I’d been so self-absorbed, I’d ignored the signs. He couldn’t even find comfort in his own home with his own family because I was here, causing him so much pain. And I’d begged his parents if I could stay without even asking him...
I reached for my black book and began to write. It was the next-best thing to calling Jon.
The fairy-tale ending is history
But the sorrow lingers,
Just like the beating of my heart
When I hear your name.
I don’t have to unlove you to get over you,
For not to love youis a pulse without blood.
Search for beauty in the darkness,
I can feel it, so close.
But beware, the princess lies sleeping with dormant curse.
Will you walk my dreams again?
I scratched out the last line, placed the notebook on my stomach and gazed up at the ceiling.
“I’ve been a self-absorbed bitch,” I whispered.
And finally, I allowed sleep to claim me.
I dreamed about a life where I hadn’t pushed Paul away, where he still had a special place in my heart—just in a different area. And in the dream, we finally hugged without my chest ripping apart from guilt. It was quiet, peaceful.
It was too good to be true.