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Fran shudders. “I hope it’s not our turn to pay back for that.”
Dinner is as delicious as I hoped, and I get the feeling that we are slowly becoming an extended family. I know that Thomas and I will not be together romantically after the baby is born, but we’ll still be a family. That gives me a small measure of comfort.
The only thing that makes me wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat is the thought of Thomas with a new woman. I’ve had a recurring nightmare where my baby and I visit the Clarksons and run into Thomas and his new girlfriend.
I refuse to think that far into the future. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, and I wish I could control my nightmares and tell them not to worry about that yet. There’s a lot to get through before I have to deal with Thomas’s future girlfriends.
“That was a perfect evening,” I tell Thomas on the way home.
“It was, wasn’t it?” he says. “I wish we could extend it, but I have a conference to attend early in the morning. I’m not confident I’ll make it if I sleep at your place.”
“There’ll be another time.” Just saying that reminds me of just how little time we have together. Sadness envelops me, but I push it away. I knew what I had gotten myself into when I found out I was pregnant with Thomas’s baby.
He’s never lied to me about what he wants or doesn’t want. From the beginning, I knew that he definitely did not want a baby. I should be pleased that he’s willing to play an active role in our baby’s life.
He stops the car outside my apartment and walks around the car to open the door for me. He walks me to the main door and then pulls me into his arms, and kisses me.
His mouth is demanding and hot, and within seconds, I’m clinging to him and moaning into his mouth. My body comes alive, and all I want is to beg him to come upstairs with me. I know that he would say yes, but my pride stops me.
“Why can’t I ever get enough of you?” he murmurs as he pulls away.
I hope you never do, I answer in my mind. Aloud, I say, “Have a good night; we’ll speak tomorrow.”
***
I thrash my legs around. I can’t breathe. Instead of clean, fresh air, I’m inhaling smoke. I fight to open my eyes and snap out of the current nightmare. My chest feels as if it’s filling up with smoke with every breath I take. Desperation comes over me, and cries leave my mouth. Then with a burst of energy, I manage to rouse myself out of that nightmare and crack my eyes open.
I blink rapidly with confusion and sit up in bed. I can actually smell smoke. I can taste smoke. What kind of nightmare turns almost real? I flick on the lights, and they come on, and that’s when I realize with horror it’s not a nightmare.
There’s a fire. I jump out of bed and grab my phone just in time because in the second, there’s an explosion, and then the lights go off. Panic threatens to overwhelm me. My building is on fire.
I need to get out, my brain screams. Oh God, please don’t let me die. I hurry blindly to the living room, which is full of smoke. It’s becoming harder and harder to inhale clean oxygen. It’s unbearably hot, and a part of me wants to sink to the floor and wrap my hands around my knees, but I think about my baby. She deserves a chance at life. I manage to open the door, and a fresh blast of heat and smoke hits my face.
I sink to all fours and crawl out, my whole body heaving with every breath. I’m going to die.
No!
I crawl in the direction of the stairs. My eyes are open with tears seeping out from the burn of the smoke. They might as well be shut because I can’t see a thing. Where is everyone? It feels eerily quiet apart from small explosions going off every so often.
My lungs are screaming for air. Then I hear it. At first, I think I’m becoming delirious again. I can’t crawl any further. My body can’t take it anymore. And then I hear it again. Voices. I’m not crazy. The voices are real. They get nearer.
“Is someone there?” a voice calls out.
“Yes, I’m here,” I call out with a last burst of energy.
Then mercifully strong arms go around me, and someone lifts me up into his arms. A fireman.
“You’re safe now, ma’am,” he says, his voice muffled by his breathing mask. “You’ll be all right.”
I lay my head down on his chest, and as we enter the stairwell, we stop, and a mask is put on my face.
