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I looked at him. The boy was gone, the man back, but the wall stayed down, the confusion lingering, not sure why I needed to leave, still feeling as if he'd done something wrong, like me in the dream, rejected and lost and not understanding why.
"I'll walk behind you, Olivia. I would simply prefer you weren't out alone at this hour." His voice dropped. "Whatever you saw, it was only a nightmare. I'm not going anywhere."
I nodded.
"Could it have been connected to the vision?" he asked. "From the park? We still haven't discussed that. I know you were going to talk to Rose first, but I would prefer . . ." He raked back his hair again, rolling his shoulders, as if still searching for equilibrium. "It might help if you talked about it. Perhaps that is upsetting you."
I'm so lost right now. My parents . . . I think they . . . I'm sure they . . . And you and Ricky . . . So lost and so confused. Except I'm not confused at all. I know what I feel--for you--and I want to blame it on the visions, to tell myself I'm just reliving a role. But I'm not. What I feel for you . . .
Oh God, what I feel for you. I don't want that. I want Ricky, and only Ricky, and no confusion, because he doesn't deserve confusion. Neither of you do.
I want to run. Get the hell out of here and run to Ricky, and tell myself I never felt like this--that I was upset about my parents and half asleep and caught in that nightmare, and I got mixed up. I just got mixed up.
But I look at you, and I know I can't run. Because you won't understand. You let yourself reach out, and I cannot reject that. I cannot let you feel rejected. You need someone, now more than ever, and I desperately want to be that someone, even if it's never going to be more than talking in front of your window and falling asleep and waking in your bed--alone.
"I'd like to talk about it," I said. "I know it's the middle of the night . . ."
"I'll make coffee."
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
It wasn't the middle of the night after all. It was nearly five in the morning. After I explained the vision, I tried to get him to go back to bed, but he wouldn't listen, so I curled up on his sofa, and we drank coffee and talked and watched the sun come up, and whatever I'd felt earlier passed.
No, I'm lying. It didn't pass. What I felt for Gabriel wasn't a chimera of anxiety and exhaustion. What passed was that panic, that sense of needing to escape.
I had breakfast with Ricky. Actually, I picked up breakfast--by cab--and surprised him at his place. He'd been in bed. Which led to a cold breakfast. But it also did an excellent job of banishing any traces of last night's mood and fears. It wasn't just the sex. Okay, yes, sex with Ricky was pretty much guaranteed to banish anything. But more than that, it was just being with him; alone with him, I was happy, and any other longings seemed like madness.
"I haven't quit the diner yet," I said. I was nibbling my toast, thinking how much I missed Larry's rye bread.
"Yep. You need to make a decision there. Which I think you already have, but you should let Larry know what it is."
"I know." I sighed. "I'm not going back, which I should have told him a week ago."
"I'm sure he figured it out. It's just tough to cut that tie. Throwing yourself financially at Gabriel's mercy."
I spread extra jam on my toast. "It's more than that. I don't think I can even wait on the elders again."
"I get that, and I'd agree." He rolled out of bed and headed for the front room. I watched him go. I watched him come back. Both views were equally fine.
He saw me watching and chuckled. "I'd be a lot more flattered by that look if I didn't suspect you were hoping to distract me from insisting you make this call." He waggled my phone. "If you still want to jump me afterward, I'll be here. And if you don't? That's fine, too, but just remember that every time I see that look in future, I'll think you're only trying to avoid something. It'll do irreparable damage to my ego."
"I wouldn't want that."
"No, you would not. My ego is a fragile thing." He handed me the phone. "Now call Larry, tell him you'll come by later to talk, and then you can have me."
"Should I hang up first?"
"Larry would probably prefer that."
I laughed, took the phone, and flipped onto my stomach. As I dialed, Ricky hopped back in bed, sending crumbs and plates jumping. He settled in, his head resting on the small of my back as he checked messages on his own phone.
After we talked, Larry said, "Doc Webster would like to speak to you, as well. She came by asking if I'd seen you. I know the Clarks said you'd been having fevers. Not to pry, but I'm guessing that's related to why you needed some time off?"
"In a way."
"You should call Doc Webster. I think she's concerned, but she probably doesn't want to seem pushy and follow up if you're seeing a doctor in the city."
"I'll call her." We talked for another minute before I hung up.
